#Starscream: appears for three frames in one second

[bumblecow]

YES YES YOU GET IT, absolutely AMAZING, I'm losing my mind, GREAT ADDITION, IM DYING TO SEE THEM LIKE THIS. Early war Megatron Starscream is literally my fav dynamic ever because you KNOW how they end up in the end, but how they BEGIN is different depending on which iteration, and that is always so intriguing to me. The ways you could interpret their origin is endless!! Was it mentor/mentee? Was it idol/worshipper? *Cough* idw Megatron origin *cough*

Reblogging for archiving purposes, because this is too beautifully put not to.

Starscream & D16 edit

We are weapons of war

[earthstellar]

Rewatching Transformers G1 S2: Episode 1: Autobot Spike

Yes, this is where the Surprised Ratchet meme image comes from:

This episode has a lot going on including near-death of a human character on screen, body horror/a Frankenstein plot, and some genuinely unsettling scenes mostly made creepy due to the combination of some interesting dialogue/voice acting and typical G1 Quality. 

And Spike shoots Starscream in the ass mid-flight, which is fantastic. 

He also shoots his dad, which is less fantastic. 

Being a horror nerd, I love this episode, so here we go! 

Gonna put this below a cut because I’m taking a lot of screenshots here:

You can watch the whole episode on YouTube here in 4 parts, if you want to watch along! 

Alright, so it opens with Sparkplug trying to create “Autobot X”, which is straight up just a Frankenstein’s Monster of autobot parts. It’s weirdly creepy, and vaguely reminiscent of the infamous Ratchet-Megatron fusion in the Marvel comics.

I want to point out that Sparkplug says “I wanna see what I can do with a lotta spare Autobot parts and some human ingenuity” before the reveal shot above, and that’s horrific if you think about it for more than like, three seconds. 

It also may have been the origins of the MECH plot line in TFP, actually! Very similar body horror type thing going on. Anyway.

It works briefly, but it flips out and has to get shut down. 

Ironhide fires a laser, problem solved, nobody’s worried. They put Autobot X in storage, because surely a rampantly aggressive seemingly sentient pastiche of random Autobot parts is nothing to worry about. It’s fine. 

Wheeljack is like, hell yeah, I’ll help you work on it later. Which is when we get the Surprised Ratchet image, because yeah, I bet Ratchet’s freaked out a little since this thing is made of SPARE AUTOBOT PARTS. 

Then we’re swept immediately into a fight with Megatron, as many Seekers as you can fit in frame at one time, and Soundwave. 

For whatever reason, Bumblebee shows up driving through a bunch of partially blown up missile/rocket components, with Spike in the driver’s seat. Even Spike is like, dude, why are we here? And Bumblebee is just like, I mean, we couldn’t NOT show up. lmao

Unsurprisingly, Bumblebee gets shot-- In alt-mode, with Spike inside. Uh oh. 

Megatron leaves, because Frank Welker can only voice so many characters at once, and our attention is turned to the carnage. 

Ratchet is like, sure, I can fix Bumblebee right up! Meanwhile, Ironhide is like oh god, oh my god, is this how you hold a human??? Is it dead??? Optimus is gonna be pissed. 

So Optimus rolls up like, listen, take him to the hospital, come on. Ratchet lets him in the back of his ambulance mode, and Prowl goes with him so that he can throw his emergency lights on to give the illusion of a police escort, ensuring the drive is even quicker. 

(I miss the days when Prowl wasn’t a total asshole.) 

It cuts pretty quickly to Spike in an operating theatre; Apparently getting shot by alien space lasers isn’t conducive to human health: 

It cuts again to the attending physician standing at Spike’s beside, presumably in ICU although they appear to be in a private room, with Sparkplug on the other side of the bed. 

The doctor says “Hmm, if only there were a way of separating Spike’s mind from his body while we work...” Which, uh, what? What surgeon says that? You can sort of already do that in actual human medicine, it’s called an induced coma. 

But sure, we need exposition here, I get it. The screenplay here is tight. Sparkplug says he has an idea...

Back at the Autobot hangout, things seem fairly chill, considering. 

Ratchet is welding Bumblebee’s ass in alt-mode, while Bumblebee complains about how long it’s taking. lol 

Meanwhile, Wheeljack and Sparkplug somehow have Spike hooked up to a Ghostbusters colander helmet, which will hopefully transfer his mind into the malfunctioning/in stasis Autobot X frame. Yikes. 

It works! Spike is now also Autobot X. We will call him Spike X for short. 

And for some reason, Spike saying “D-Da-ad?” with this faceplate expression is incredibly funny to me, while also being really weird and creepy: 

However, this is only cool for like two seconds, at which point Spike X truly starts to lose his shit. 

It gets real creepy here, with Spike X saying in a very oddly flat inflection “Why? Why did you do this to me? Why?” and it’s pretty wild. There’s even a mild strobe effect for a few frames. 

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker try to help calm him down, but Spike X throws them both across the room. 

Optimus is like, oh shit, we made a giant metal teenager. Stop him, but use low power, because if the Autobot X frame is damaged too much, then Spike’s consciousness may not be able to be returned to his actual human body. 

Note that Optimus says this in a pretty relaxed way, then levels a shoulder mounted cannon straight at Spike X, which is incredibly funny. 

It quickly gets deeply weird and creepy again when Spike X is temporarily able to talk with his dad, and states that “it’s hard to think, like something is telling me to do... bad.... things!” Yiiiiiikes. 

He gets it under control again, apologises to his dad for the outburst (I think it’s OK, Spike), and Optimus says that he’s cool to stay at the base and he’ll be taken care of while his human body heals up. 

However, oh shit, the Decepticons have found out that Spike now has an Autobot frame-- And they know he’s unstable. 

Starscream tries to roast him, but Megatron’s like, shut up nerd, we’re gonna make Spike X turn against the Autobots! It’s a good plan, I’m serious! 

Back at the Autobot base, Ratchet is still welding Bumblebee’s ass, and Bumblebee is still complaining. Wheeljack hooks up Spike X with some network television, and he’s watching... Frankenstein. Because the six year old kids who are the intended audience of G1 may not be familiar with the source material for this episode’s plot, I guess, which is fair. (Frank Welker nails it here as Dr. Frankenstein, but that’s unsurprising, because he always nails it. I think he’s also voicing Frankenstein’s Monster, but I haven’t checked the credits.)

Obviously, this isn’t a great thing for Spike X to be watching at this particular moment, so he freaks out again. 

Wheeljack and Sparkplug come running, and somehow Sparkplug is covering ground faster than Wheeljack. It’s fine, don’t worry about it. 

Ratchet’s progress on welding Bumblebee’s ass is interrupted by Spike X breaking through the wall and seemingly flying away. lmao 

They just sort of stand there, like, well, we lost him, I guess. 

Bumblebee is like, alright, gonna go get my boy. 

So he drives out of this massive crater, and Ratchet is like, wait! Your radio transmitter still doesn’t work. (Apparently their radio transmitters are located in their asses. Fascinating.) 

Spike X sits on a cliff and says “what a drag”, which, yeah. Being a Frankenstein space robot would be cool if not for the immense psychological damage this is absolutely causing. 

However, he also calls himself a “walking garbage can” in a completely genuine put-out tone of voice, which absolutely sells that this is a teenager in a giant robot body and I laughed, I won’t lie. 

Some of Megatron’s cronies locate him and hold his position. 

At the same time, Bumblebee shows up and tries to talk Spike X down from a random destructive rampage. 

He throws Bumblebee off the cliff! And Megatron’s squad is rolling up. (Well, flying up, anyway.) Uh oh! 

Spike X is like, hell yeah, bring it. More ass to kick. And it turns out his arm mounted cannon works, because he shoots Starscream directly in the undercarriage and says “YEAH, MAN!” and it’s so genuine. 

This is the perfect reaction to being a teenager in a giant robot body and just suddenly being able to shoot lasers and kick ass. Look at how happy he is, that he just shot Starscream in the butt mid-air. It’s awesome.

Unfortunately, the Seekers do actually beat him up, although Spike X puts up a good fight. 

Megatron then takes advantage of his further weakened state, and swoops in to pitch a classic “Join Us” speech. Spike X calls him “Megacrumb”, which is probably acceptable because he’s absolutely concussed by this point. 

Megatron is willing to overlook this for the sake of teaming up. 

Bumblebee eavesdrops, and drives away-- But Spike X gives Megatron a handshake, and agrees to “make them pay”. Oh shit! 

For some reason, Optimus and Ironhide are back at the rocket facility to watch a launch. Because I guess whatever, this whole situation is chill, let’s go watch rockets? IDK 

But either way, Optimus roasts the inferior quality of human technology, while Bumblebee just drives up on site despite Military Police levelling sniper rifles at him in order to report that Megatron is taking advantage of Spike X’s inability to think clearly. 

Optimus says “I feared something like this might happen”, which, if that were the case, why not take actions to prevent it, maybe? Not the strongest Optimus episode. 

To be fair though, Ironhide transforms and is already driving off before Optimus even gives the order to roll out, so I guess Ironhide either really wants to kick some ass or cares slightly more about Spike X’s wellbeing. He has no dialogue here, so we can only guess. 

They get there, with even more Autobots who showed up at some point in the rapid scene cuts here, and Spike X is super unhinged-- Charging his weapons, he starts speaking in a more strained and angry way, and engages the Autobots! 

He hits Optimus with what appears to be a chest laser? It’s hard to see. But it’s super effective: 

Optimus pleads with Spike X to calm down, but Spike X straight up pulls MEGATRON IN GUN MODE out of his sub-space and shoots Optimus directly in the faceplate. Damn! 

The Seekers and Soundwave drop in, and start rapid firing on all the Autobots present. 

We get some great shots of Megatron in his gun alt-mode as he tries to convince Spike X to keep attacking. Optimus and Bumblebee hide behind cover, attempting to bring Spike X to his senses long enough to disarm him. 

Suddenly, Wheeljack and Sparkplug roll up; Sparkplug attempts to talk some sense into Spike, too. 

Optimus and Bumblebee are at a loss; If they take out Spike X, the damage might take him out for good. 

However, Sparkplug fails in his efforts to talk to Spike X; He SHOOTS HIS DAD AND KNOCKS HIM OFF THE CLIFF. 

Can you imagine if they put an ad break here? lmao 

Luckily, he has like, a claw machine arm, and he catches his dad before he becomes a human smoothie. 

This shocks Spike X badly enough that while he still has Megatron in gun mode, he takes a few pot shots at the Seekers and the Decepticons decide it’s time to bounce, so Megatron bails too. 

He apologises for almost killing his dad, his dad is like hey no beef man, and it cuts to them in the hospital: 

Sparkplug takes his son’s body back to the Autobot base (that sounds worse than it is), and they prepare to transfer him back into his body. 

What’s extra funny here is that he nervously laughs and says “Hope you fixed this thing up good, Ratchet!” And Ratchet says absolutely nothing. Not a word. 

It’s a success! Dad and son hug, totally not even addressing anything that happened this whole episode, because that’s a job for a therapist. 

Ratchet, who continues to not really care about any of this, tells Wheeljack “You know, I could probably repair that mess, but I think it’s best that I don’t.” (This is a play on what Wheeljack said earlier in the episode when he offered to help Sparkplug fix up Autobot X to begin with.) 

I love how tired Wheeljack looks. LOL

Spike, now recovered, leaves us with a great question to close out the episode: “I wonder what it’d be like for a robot mind to be transferred... to a human!” 

Depending on what kind of kid you were, his question was either imagination fuel for fun humanformer ideas, or was a blatantly bad question indicating he learned nothing and providing nightmare fuel trying to imagine one of the Autobots losing their shit in a human body the same way Spike lost his shit while inhabiting Autobot X. 

Anyway, great episode! 10/10 Scary, funny, creepy, Starscream got shot in the ass by a teenager. 

[grayseekerswritinglife]

Tricks & Treats (1/5)

Chapter One: Smoke-Bombs

Starscream locked his lab door behind him and took a long, hard look around. He was alone. There was no telltale ‘vop’ of teleportation, nor was anyone perched on his work-bench, feet swinging idly as they babbled a string of increasingly nonsensical questions.

Hey, Starscream! What about exploding snakes? That’d be cool, right? No—wait! What about sparklers that turn into snakes and then explode? I mean! One second you’re wavin’ a sparkler around, and next it turns into a snake and explodes! Wouldn’t that be nifty?

“It would not,” Starscream growled, stalking through his now-vacant lab. “It would not be the least bit ‘nifty.’ It would be a puerile, pointless waste of my time and intellect.” He yanked open a supply cupboard, grabbed a sturdy trash bag, and began clearing away the mess. There was glitter. A lot of it, in varying shades of orange, black and purple. Also various accelerants, types of fuses, scraps of hollow, articulated cable meant to resemble snakes, globs of sticky orange resin designed to bond to one’s exo-structure and look… well, gross, and—last but not least—a pumpkin-shaped mold for making inflatable gourds.

Once the last bit of ‘snake’ tubing had disappeared into the bag, Starscream allowed himself a sigh of relief. While he’d accepted long ago that the only sure way to get any uninterrupted lab-time was to appease Skywarp’s need for ever more creative pranking supplies, this event that humans called ‘Halloween’ was testing the limits of his fragile patience. He tossed the bag in the trash receptacle and trudged to his workstation where he paused, one hand on the power-switch.

“Now, where was I?” His gaze settled idly on the holocube that sat beside his workstation. It showed two explorers about to depart Cybertron on a deep space mission. Neither of them had heard of Halloween, which was probably why they both looked so optimistic. “Ah, yes,” he said as he sat down. The screen flickered to life, and the project he’d been working on three days ago, when Skywarp had first invaded his lab, appeared. Within moments he’d re-immersed himself, and was in the throes of some highly sophisticated mental calculations when someone pounded on the door.

“Go away!” Starscream shouted. “I’m busy!”

The knock came again. Louder this time, and more urgent. So much for uninterrupted lab-time. Starscream pushed his chair back with a growl, pausing just long enough to switch off his monitor before he stomped to the door. Whoever his caller was, it couldn’t be Skywarp. Skywarp wouldn’t have knocked; he would have teleported right in and started nattering about his latest prank idea. The only other likely choice was Megatron, who sometimes knocked, but wasn’t always in the mood to respect a locked door. The last thing Starscream wanted was for Megatron to see what he’d been working on. Unlike Skywarp, he might actually figure out what it was.

“I’m coming! Hold on to your trigger-guard, and—” Starscream broke off as the next round of knocks were accompanied by… yes, it was: a faint boom of thunder. A sonic boom, just strong enough to rattle the chemistry glassware on his shelves. He yanked the door open.

“Thundercracker?” Starscream stared at his Trinemate. He wasn’t used to seeing Thundercracker by himself. Normally, Skywarp was at Thundercracker’s side—when he wasn’t haunting Starscream’s lab—and his presence provided a certain buffering influence. Alone, Thundercracker looked… dangerous. Especially with his wings hiked to such an aggressive angle and his fist raised to batter the door again. Or, possibly, Starscream’s face. He looked angry enough to try it, and Starscream took an involuntary step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Is he here?” Thundercracker demanded, peering into the lab. “Please say he is.”

“Is who here?” Starscream asked, irritated at his own reaction. He was the Trineleader, for frag’s sake. He had no reason to feel intimidated by an underling. Thundercracker shoved past him and stalked into the lab, raking his gaze over the shelves, the monitors, the small berth upon which Starscream occasionally slept, and the cabinets filled with supplies and scientific apparatus. “Wow,” he muttered. “Geek Central.”

“What do you want?” Starscream demanded. It occurred to him he couldn’t recall the last time Thundercracker had set foot anywhere near his lab. His presence here seemed ominous. It also occurred to him that he had more to hide than just his secret project. The holocube on his desk was rather incriminating. Normally he shoved it well out of sight before entertaining the few visitors he got down here, but this time he’d forgotten. He edged in front of it, trying to block Thundercracker’s view. “What are you looking for?”

Thundercracker let out a sigh. “I was hopin’ he’d be with you, but…” he reached into his subspace and drew out a plain black metal box. “You know what this is, right?”

Starscream nodded. He’d recognized it instantly. Originally designed to hold specimen-jars, it had recently been repurposed to house smoke-bombs. “What about it?”

“I found it on his berth.” Thundercracker raised the lid. “It was empty. He also cleared out the compartment where he was stashing his other Halloween junk.”

“So?” Starscream adjusted his wings as he spoke, mentally gauging the optimal angle to keep the holocube from Thundercracker’s line of sight. “He’s probably commenced this… Trick-or-Treat nonsense he keeps going on about.”

Thundercracker shook his head. “Nah. He was saving all that for Halloween, which isn’t for a couple days. I checked.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Starscream corrected automatically. “But what about it? Maybe he’s getting an early start.”

“Maybe.” Thundercracker sounded doubtful. He started to pace, forcing Starscream to turn in his direction to keep his wings in the right position. “But I don’t like it.” He stopped and leveled a glare. “You couldn’t just let him have his fun, could you?”

“What?” Starscream flinched at the note of accusation in his Trinemate’s voice. “You think this is my fault?”

“Who else? You got him interested in human traditions in the first place!”

“Me? I beg your pardon?”

“You encouraged him to go looking for Santa Claus at the North Pole!”

“Just to prove there’s no such thing!”

“Well, he didn’t take it that way! He took it as encouragement.”

“But—”

“He’s also decided he’s the Easter Bunny.”

“What?”

“He’s gonna… I dunno, hide a bunch of eggs in the Command Center or… something.” Thundercracker swept a hand over his forehead, as if trying to push the thought aside. “Human traditions are so bizarre. Anyway, when he got interested in Halloween, you encouraged him.”

“I did no such thing! I merely—”

“Helped him build smoke-bombs? Yeah, exactly.” Thundercracker shook the empty box. “And all that other nonsense, the… fake snakes and stuff. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“If you know so much, how can you claim I wasn’t letting him have his fun?”

“Because!” Thundercracker slammed the box on the nearest table. “Halloween isn’t just about playing tricks!”

“It’s not?” Starscream had been rather under the impression that it was, considering how thoroughly Skywarp had latched onto it.

“No. Apparently it’s also an excuse for humans to gorge themselves on whatever disgusting food passes for sweets in their weird, organic diet. Well, guess who else likes treats?”

“I…” Starscream’s mind raced. “Wait. Are you talking about the gold? I couldn’t let him keep that!” Earlier that day, Starscream had discovered a sizable bag of gold ore in Skywarp’s quarters. Primus only knew where he’d gotten it from. Starscream allowed his fliers to consume some of the rich, sweet metal, which could be healthy in small quantities. It could strengthen one’s frame by improving flexibility, for example, but in larger quantities it could soften one’s armor and add excess weight, ruining a flier’s aerodynamic performance. "I am the Air Commander,” Starscream pointed out. “I need my fliers combat-ready, and Skywarp was taking on too much ballast.”

“It was just until Halloween,” Thundercracker argued. “You could have waited a couple extra days instead of takin' away all his goodies. Now he’s…”

“What?” Starscream felt a twinge of unease. “What’s going on, Thundercracker?” He realized that in his rush to defend himself, he’d neglected to ask. He’d also forgotten about the holocube, which was now in plain sight if Thundercracker cared to glance in its direction. He didn’t. His gaze was on the empty box which had contained the smoke-bombs.

“I dunno,” Thundercracker said heavily. “He’s not answering me. He’s run away somewhere—probably to get more treats—but hell if I know where.”

“More treats?” Starscream mused. “If gold is what he’s after, I might have an idea.”

~~~~~~~

This was written for @darkstarofchaos for the @transform-or-treat Halloween gift exchange. There are five chapters of it in all, and I will be posting a chapter a day until Halloween! Many, many thanks to @justawayninja or being my awesome beta. Your suggestions helped me get the story to the next level.

[dragongirl642]

Dreadwing x shy human reader x Skyquake (TFP)

Author note:

Requested on Wattpad.

Keeping fairly canon so expect some angst and hurt/comfort. Only change is Skyquake survived long enough to have a room and possessions aboard the Nemesis, (about a three weeks), and meet reader…before engaging the Autobots in battle and dying.

(y/n) = your name (first name)

(l/n) = last name

(h/c) = hair colour

(e/c) = eye colour

(m/f) = male/female (pick your presenting pronoun based on how your feeling right now)

(she/he/they) or (her/his/their) = pick your descriptor.

Breem = 8.3 minutes

---------------------------Start---------------------------------

 Heavy thumps echo through the Nemesis’ corridors as its leader returns to the bridge. Drones hurriedly stumble out of his way or risk accidentally angering an already volatile Cybertronian.

As the green glow of a portal closes in the wake of the warlord’s departure. Three Cybertronian mechs linger in the bay. The Nemesis’ Second-in-command Starscream, Third-in-command Soundwave, and newcomer, Dreadwing.

Following his master’s pedesteps, Soundwave, silent as always, drifts away from the other two towards the bridge. The remaining two mechs stare at each-other, one with disdain, and the other with blank uninterest.

Starscream eyes Dreadwing and sighs, “follow me. Your quarters are this way”, he waves (fabulously) for Dreadwing to follow him and begins to walk down the corridor.

A few corridors later, accompanied by the echoing click of pedes, the jetformer struts to a stop and sneers. He gestures to the nearest door. “You should be grateful Lord Megatron saw fit to bequeath you Skyquake’s possessions, Dreadwing.”

The mech in question merely hums and proceeds to enter. Starscream doesn’t appear impressed with this reaction, or lack thereof, and sniffs haughtily before continuing down the corridor.

Inside is a set of officer’s quarters. It is clear the previous owner did not have much time to get settled in. It’s sparse, no personal possessions in sight bar the one abandoned datapad lying on the shelf to the side.

Another door on the other side of the room opens when Dreadwing approaches. He peers inside to see a fitted washer and waste-disposal facility.

The second door in the other corner of the room, also opens when approached. Dreadwing steps into a blank berthroom. This room reveals more signs of life than the others. A few scratches on the surface of the berth suggest someone had recently recharged there.

“Skyquake?”

Dreadwing turns at the small voice. Eyes narrowing as he spots the small fleshy peering around one of the legs of the berth. Upon meeting his gaze, their eyes widen, and they duck behind it.

Swiftly, Dreadwing crosses the berth room and reaches down to grab the human before they can escape. Squirming in his grip they whimper and claw at his digits in vain.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?”

The human stops their attempted escape at his rumbling statement. Sudden understanding dawning on their face as they take in his similar frame. “Brother?”

Dreadwing lifts them higher as he studies their form. Optics rove over the (h/c) strands covering the human’s head. He noted their oddly coloured plating that seemed to offer no protection bar hiding their fragile protoform from sight.

(She/he/They) wiggle in his grasp, craning (her/his/their) neck as if striving to see over his shoulder. “Where is he?”

 {Flashback:

 Upon being awoken, the spiked Cybertronian showed disdain at following the orders of the Decepticon Leader (former Second-in-Command) Starscream. He didn’t have long to voice his displeasure before the Autobots arrived. A fight ensued.

In the wake of the departure of the Autobots and their human ally, the spiked Cybertronian looks around his surroundings with a curious awe. The clack of dislodged rock catches his attention. A scan of the surroundings reveals a lifeform crouched in a nook.

Skyquake crouches and attempts to grab the being. Digits scrape against the cliff-face as the lifeform crawls further into the crevice. Unable to reach his quarry, the mech opts to crouch before the crevice and peer inside. “What are you?”

The smaller being presses back into the rock, trying to will themselves to phase through the cliff and out of sight. “I’m a human.”

Skyquake blinks, mild shock evident on his faceplate upon discovering the smaller being can talk. “A human? Do you have a name?”

“Um…I’m (y/n)…(l/n).”

“Will you be a worthy battle opponent (Y/n).” It’s more of a statement than a question, prompting the human to shake their head vigorously.

“No…I won’t…”, they look around in panic, “I don’t know how to fight!”

Skyquake hums in contemplation. He analyses their form and moves back to stand. “You may come out I will not harm you. It would not be honourable.”

He retreats two steps and waits. Optics supposedly lazily surveying the surroundings. His patience is rewarded when (Y/n) crawls out from the crevice, clambering to stand on unsteady legs. Heart beating a mile-a-minute, they regard the giant in-front of them. They drag a bag behind them, and hastily shove the rectangular object cradled in their arms into its confines. “Um, I’d like to go home,” they glance at the sky where the others had left, “I’ll just leave, I won’t tell anyone I saw you.”

The mech feels a surge of unfamiliar protectiveness rising in his spark, the smaller being reminding him of a sparkling, unsteady as they find their pedes in their protoform. This is quickly stamped down by his limited knowledge of the Decepticon’s position on this planet.

Skyquake hums in contemplation, “I…I do not believe I can allow that.”

(Y/n) gasps and immediately turns to crawl back into the crevice, but Skyquake scoops them up in a servo before they can. They wriggle in his grasp and blink back tears, “Please, you said…”

He gently squeezes, the threatening pressure causing them to squeak and fall into silence; turning his servo to examine them, they watch him wide-eyed. “You are no warrior,” he transforms, a cacophony of whirring gears surrounds the human being tossed into his jet-form’s cockpit, “…but you may be one day.”

Skyquake ignores the human’s protests as he soars upwards, heading for the Nemesis.

 *                   *                      *

 Over two days, the human’s appeals for release had turned to sullen silence, had turned to tears, had turned to barely whispered pleas. The only interaction they had been brave enough to initiate with Skyquake, was to ask to be taken to the toilet, after an awkward explanation, the mech had set up a mini-facility in the washer-room.

Now soft gasping breaths flutter from the chest of the human lying prone on the berth-side table. Skyquake looks up from his spot on the end of the berth.

“Human?” No answer. He moves forward and gently prods them with a digit. “Human!”

They groan and grasp their head, pushing themselves up to their knees. A pallid sheen coats (her/his/their) skin, despite the blush inflaming their cheeks. (Y/n) blinks drearily and gulps, the air searing their sandpaper throat. They wince, the sudden motion upsetting their stomach, which they promptly empty onto the table.  (Y/n) crawls away from the puddle of bile before promptly collapsing again.  

The mech leaps back, a look of disgust flashing across his faceplate. This slowly switches to concern when (Y/n) collapses and stops moving. “Human!”

They weakly blink but otherwise don’t answer.

“(Y/n)!”

The room seems to grow cold, a chill creeping down Skyquake’s spinal struts. He turns and leaves the room.

 *                   *                   *

 Pede-steps echoing through the corridor of the Nemesis as Skyquake purposefully strides to the communications centre. The domain of Soundwave.

Monitor stations line the walls, the only source of illumination, throwing strange shadows across the floor. The personal drone assistants of the communications officer check the screens and input or highlight important information for Soundwave’s perusal. In the centre of the room, within a raised station of glimmering desks and hovering screens, stands the mech himself; tentacles latched on to the console in-front of him.

All information that passes through the Nemesis, passes before the optics of Soundwave.

The ever silent mech doesn’t turn when Skyquake storms into the room. Nor when he growls at a nearby drone who approaches to ask if he can help him. He only inclines his helm slightly to the side when Skyquake stomps to his side and leans into his peripheral vision.

“I require your help.”

A further imperceptible shift of Soundwave’s frame lets the mech know he has his attention.

“I have a…pet. I do not know how to care for it, and it seems to be…”

“Dying.”

Skyquake’s optics widen at the recorded reply coming from Soundwave.

“The…human…is dying.” Soundwave turns to face Skyquake, disconnecting one of his tentacles from the console as he does; he raises it and the end sparks menacingly. “What is the…human’s…purpose?”

If he were human, Skyquake would be sweating. The TIC is immobile, stance calm and open, or at least it seems to be.

Skyquake cools his face into a blank expression. “I was holding it for study, of the planet’s indigenous species.”

Soundwave tilts his helm and one of the monitors suddenly changes, human security camera feeds and literature flash across the screen.

Skyquake eyes it warily. “I was told the Autobots have human allies. I wanted to…to study a live one for weaknesses,” he tries a ruthful smile, “I’ve found one so far. I just need to keep it alive to find more.”

Soundwave doesn’t move. But the screen suddenly switches, files in Cybertronian and English flash side-by-side. A datapad pops out of a slot in the side of the console. The raised tentacle stops sparking and swiftly snakes down to extract the datapad. Soundwave slowly waves it in-front of Skyquake, who hesitantly takes it.

“Your report will be…expected.”

Skyquake nods and takes a step back out of Soundwave’s zone. He nods and turns to leave. He fights down the urge to run and forces his pede-steps to remain even as he walks out.

In the communications centre, a drone brings a blank datapad to Soundwave and inserts it in the empty slot. They silently return to their station and Soundwave returns to his work, pulling up two small windows in the corner of the screen, a near-unconscious human front-and-centre in one, and a quick-marching mech in the other.

.

.

.

Skyquake thunders into the Nemesis supply warehouse. Optics scanning the datapads screen intently. The two drones on door duty scampering out the way. “Water…fuel…heat…”

Another drone squares his shoulder-plates and cautiously approaches. “Can I help you Sir.”

Skyquake takes one look at the towering shelves and the dark shadows hiding probably labyrinthine series of storage units, decides it isn’t worth searching himself, and begins to scrutinise the drone.  They shift uncomfortable under his gaze.

“I require what this planet calls dihydrogen monoxide, sodium chloride, sheets, and…fuel! No! Food…human food.”

The drone jolts in shock. “Um…sir, that’s…we don’t…”

“It’s for a report,” Skyquake growls, “…for Soundwave.”

The TICs name is all it takes for the drones to snap into action. “We have some ice stored you can take. Uh…uh we can see about acquiring the human fuel…I mean food, for you.”

One of the other drones’ sprints into the storage units, emerging a breem later with two storage cubes in hand. Mist rising from the cold unit in their servos. Another follows, digits full of a variety of folded sheets and canvas covers.

Skyquake accepts both with a slow tilt of his helm. “I will return tomorrow.” There’s promise in his tone and violence in his optics. The drones shakily nod and snap to salute, a motion which is lost on the mech who is already striding out.

.

.

.

The berth-room door can’t slide open fast enough for Skyquake, his shoulder-plates catching on the metal. He thunders in, dumping his collection on the berth. He glances at (Y/n), they haven’t moved, they don’t even acknowledge his entry.

Skyquake quickly fetches a blade and bowl from the main room in his quarters. He opens the storage cube and shaves a chunk of ice into the bowl. The click of gears accompanies one of his servos switching to cannon form. It hums as it powers up, the air beginning to waver hypnotically above it.

He holds the bowl above his cannon, optics zeroing in on the mist rising from the frozen liquid. The bowl begins to heat up in his servos, a red glow starts to eliminate from the metal. Optics hardening against the pain, Skyquake doesn’t lower it, he just watches the droplets begin to form from the icy surface. The ice slowly sinks into the bowl as it melts.

Once it’s gone, he swirls the bowl and transforms his cannon back. Digits streaked with energon burn marks. He places the bowl near the human and scuffs his servos together to remove some of the blackened dust. Once his digits have cooled, he nudges the human, they groan and weakly fight against him.

Skyquake carefully props (Y/n) up and brings the bowl close to their face. “Human! Wake up! You need to drink.” The water sloshes over the lip of the bowl, some gets in their mouth, most soaks their clothes. They gargle and fight, but drink all the same, greedily, water dripping down their chin. Primal survival instinct kicking into high gear. Skyquake pulls the bowl away too quickly for (Y/n), they grab for it, but he moves it back to the berth.

Opening the second cube, he pinches some of the salt and places it in (Y/n)’s lap. “Eat this. Not too much, just a…” he trails of when (Y/n) licks the chunk of salt and promptly spits it out. He sighs and kneels, resting his servos on the table either side of the human. “Please (Y/n), if you don’t replace your frame’s salt levels, it will reject the water.”

Bleary eyes blink up at him. “Why?” (Y/n)’s voice croaks softly, mouth dry as they force themselves to chew a small bit of salt. “Why keep me alive?”

His spark heavy in his chest, Skyquake grabs the water bowl again. “When I told you, I would not hurt you and that you may one day be a warrior.” He slowly raises the bowl for (Y/n) to drink again. “I truly intended for you to see that day.”

 *                      *                      *

 “Tell me about human culture.”

(Y/n) sits up, sheet falling from around their shoulders. The berth-room is dark, but they can see the glow of Skyquake’s optics hovering over the berth.

“Now? There’s a…there’s a lot of cultures.”

A low hum emanates from the mech’s frame. “Then tell me what you would need in your daily life.”

“Well,” the human snuggles back into their pile of blankets, “Food and water. Toilet access. All things I have here.”

The mech ex-vents heavily, baring his denta in exasperation. “That’s not…what I meant.”

“Well, I liked to read. Mostly fiction, like the fairy tales in my bag. I also liked…” they sigh, “…singing. My mum knew the best lullabies.”

“Show me?”

“Um…show you?”

Skyquake’s optics flicker in the dark. “The lullabies.”

“They’re not really something I can show, I’d have to…have to sing.”

“Why don’t you…sing?”

(Y/n) shakes their head, aware Skyquake can sense the motion in the dark, even if he can’t see them. “Um…how about I tell you about fairy tales instead?”

“Very well.”

 For the next few hours, (Y/n) talks until the words run out. It’s uncertain whether it’s from fear of the Cybertronian, or nostalgia at the memories, that keeps their voice going. Tales weave through the air. Their voice slowly lowers, until it’s a whisper, until it stops. Light snores begin to fill the berth-room.

“Rest well little one.”

 *                       *                      *

 “Human!”

A startled “eep” follows the human-in-question’s ducking out of sight.

Skyquake growls as he enters the berthroom, and the human jumps back into sight, recognising the warning.

“Why did I encounter Starscream panicking over small monsters attacking his pedes and infesting the vents.”

(Y/n) immediately hides their face in their hands, fighting to stifle the grin that breaks out on their face as they remember Starscream’s startled face and feminine shrieking.  

A warning growl emanates from Skyquake towering overhead.

Tremors wracking their body, the human (m/f) gulps for air. “I…I…” they breath and count to ten. Finally calming enough to speak they flap the blanket around their shoulders. “Another one of you came in here, so I ran into the vents. I was looking for you…”

“What happened?”

“I had my blanket over my head, and when I tried to cross the corridor Starscream was there and…and I just climbed over his pedes to get to the other side. He started shrieking and…I may have hit him…with this.” They hold up a twisted but sturdy piece of discarded plating.

Silence meets this confession. Tension claws its way down (Y/n)’s spine, and twists in the air.

A startlingly loud grumble cracks the silence. The human jolting in shock as Skyquake begins to shake. Deep chuckles, like the growl of an engine, steadily surging from beneath his chestplate. Skyquake, still chuckling, brings all his focus down to bare on the human; the first smile they had seen him give, blooming brilliantly on his faceplate.

“You may make a mighty warrior yet (Y/n).”

*                   *                    *

 The swish of the door sliding open accompanies Skyquake’s entrance. It only just manages to cover the startled gasp from the human sat among the two cubes under the table. His derma twitches as he notices their eyes following the cubes in his servos.

He places his load on the floor and lowers himself to kneel. He opens the tops and places them on their side, nodding to (Y/n) to come forward. The (m/f) does so, crawling out from their pile of blankets to look inside the new cubes.

The shadowy depths of the first, gives way to boxes of groceries, barrels of water, and cans of food, most likely taken from a delivery truck ambushed on the road.

The second, reveals piles and piles of clothing, acquired in much the same way as the food. Sealed bags of mass-produced t-shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses, and lingerie.

The mech watches as his human pulls a bag out, splits it, and reaches into the pile of fabric and pulls out a pair of jeans. It is a luxury item compared to the ripped, fading, mud-stained pair they wore.

“I thought you would appreciate more human necessities.” As he says this, Skyquake draws a small bundle from within his chassis, barely the size of one of his digits, placing it beside (Y/n). The (m/f) leans back and looks at the bundle in confusion. Reaching over, they flip the corner of the sheet away. A small datapad, the size of an average pc monitor, sits nestled among the rags. Its screen flares to life, the home screen containing icons that wouldn’t look strange on a human computer: a book, a globe, a CD, and a phone symbol.

Upon tapping one the CD icon, a music player appears on the screen. Tapping back out and on the book, reveals a library of human, and some translated Cybertronian, literature. “This is…” (Y/n) gazes up at Skyquake in thankful confusion, “…is this a datapad? For me?”

Skyquake stands. “The human communication device symbol will allow you to contact me.”

The doors swish as the mech exits, and softly thump as they close.

 *                   *                     *

 “Little one?”

(Y/n) looks up from their spot near the head of the berth. Bookmarking their spot and placing the book of fairy tales to their side.  Skyquake steps closer and kneels, making sure to push (Y/n)’s supplies under the table so he doesn’t crush them, laying a fist on the surface beside them. Opening his digits reveals a small tablet with a handle.

“For you.”

(Y/n) slowly takes the gift and feels its surface.

“Careful!”

They quickly drop the object at their feet when Skyquake suddenly stops them. Scooting away from the object on all fours. “What is it?”

A low rumble sounds from beneath Skyquake’s chest-plate. (Y/n)’s look of surprise slowly morphing to annoyance. Placing a digit on the berth, he swivels the gift around. “Hold the handle and point away from your face.”

(Y/n) returns to their previous position and cautiously grasps the handle, lifting the (surprisingly heavy) object and pointing it forward. Thumb finds catch and presses, causing the tablet part to split and leap forward into the shape of a blade. Glowing plasma racing along the edges. The gift now resembled a mythical sword from one of (Y/n)’s fairy tales.

(E/c) eyes trace the edges and their fatal glow, while hands shift to a more comfortable grip on the moulded handle. “It’s…comfortable.”

“I had it shaped to fit you.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widen as they snap the catch to retract the blade. “Is this for…” they slowly lower the sword and sighs, “is this for me to…to fight you.”

The mech’s optics widen surprise, a strange feeling of guilt welling in his spark. “No, this is…for you to defend yourself. From the others if they try to stop us.”

Confusion fills (Y/n)’s eyes and wells up, spilling forth. “What do…”

“I am being sent to slay the Autobots as a test of my skill and loyalty. I must leave now but when I return, I will return you to your people.”

A watery smile blooms on (Y/n)’s face and (he/she/they) pull(s) the datapad into their lap. “Thank you Skyquake.”

The mech hums, keeping his voice calm despite the sudden skip of his spark. His servo twitches with the urge to hold a digit to (Y/n)’s cheek, to feel (his/her/their) warmth and know they are alive.

“It is the honourable thing to do.”

 End flashback}

 “You knew Skyquake?”

(Y/n) looks back at Dreadwing, “Um…yes.”

The mech scans the rest of the berthroom. Optics alighting on the open storage cubes turned on their side under the table. Sheets and human supplies spilling from the recesses. Dreadwing vents, the human’s scent drifts around the room, testament to how long they’d been staying there. “How long have you been living here?”

“After Skyquake didn’t come back, I started rationing. It’s been about a month…. I think.”

Dreadwing narrows his optics and places them on the floor. Kneeling to look under the table, his optics trace the ladder of twisted cables hanging down the back of the table and the open vent leading in the direction of the washer facility. A low hum flows from his chassis as he stands. “Skyquake was caring for you…why?”

“Well he was, until…” (Y/n) chokes, tears beginning to well up and spill from their eyes. They sit among the blankets and wrap their arms around their knees. “He was supposed to come back…he promised.” The (m/f) breaks down in tears, not-caring anymore for the hulking Cybertronian above them.

He watches as they release their grief, mourning the loss of their only friend aboard the Nemesis, mourning the other half of his spark. The shadow of his own grief rises above him, threatening to spill. Dreadwing was a mech who preferred to release his own emotions in private. But watching their tears, he feels heat rise to his faceplate and his optics burn with pressure. For a moment there is anger, that something so fragile could outlive someone as strong as Skyquake. But a wave of understanding follows because it was Skyquake’s care that ensured their survival.

His sense of loyalty to the Decepticons wars with the sounds clawing their way out from (Y/n)’s body sound; so close to spark-break, that Dreadwing can neither force himself to leave, nor attempt some sort of comfort. So instead he opts to sit in silence, cross-pede’d on the floor, back-struts to them. The lubricant running down his faceplate his only support.

---------------------------------------Time-skip-------------------------------------

Dreadwing cannot bear himself to lie down or remain in the berth-room, the shade of his twin’s presence hanging over the room like a cloud.

The human had passed out, dead-to-the-world, curled up in the mountain of rags tumbling from a storage cube. If he listens carefully, the mech convinces himself he can almost hear their heartbeat in the other room.

He lies on the table, having set up a temporary recharge station and power’s down his optics. His recharge is filled with swirling scenes, he sees his twin and the human fulfilling the memories (Y/n) had described for him. He hears voices in the dark, the human’s voice weaving foreign music through his processor.

----------------------------------------Time-skip----------------------------------------

“What was he like?”

Dreadwing looks down in surprise, not having expected the human to suddenly appear from the vent at his feet.

“Before coming to earth, I mean.”

His optics soften as he regards the fidgeting human from his position sat at the table. Considering whether to answer them or continue reading his latest debriefing, a sudden surge of nostalgia wins out and he leans down, offering them a servo. They climb on and he lifts them up to the table, pushing the datapad he was perusing out the way. He rests his helm in a servo and hums. “You wish to know about our life before coming to earth.”

(Y/n) interrupts, “and maybe, if possible…before the war?”

The mech powers down his optics briefly, before focusing on (his/her/their) shining eyes intently watching him.

“Where do I begin…”

-------------------------------------Time-skip-----------------------------------

“Dreadwing, where are you going?”

The spiked Cybertronian turns and salutes the Decepticon Warlord as he enters the Ground-bridge control centre. The few drones manning the stations also snapping to attention.

“I was…going to scout the Autobots last known location.”

Megatron squints. “Really now.” He stalks forward. “This would have nothing to do with the human Skyquake was keeping.”

The sharp vent is all the evidence he needs.

“Soundwave informed me of its existence and survival. Tell me,” he bares his denta, “what are you planning to do with it?”

Dreadwing straightens his spinal struts as he pulls himself even more to attention. Rehearsed words flowing calmly from his derma. “It is a distraction…but it would be dishonourable of me to offline something Skyquake cared for. So, I will continue to care for it, as a pet of sorts.”

Megatron looks to the side, where Soundwave silently slinks from the shadows. His visor lights up with a security feed, the image of what appears to be the human’s feet poking out from the storage cube as they sleep, appears on the monitor. A fence has been constructed around the table, creating a cage, like one you would keep a hamster in. The feed cuts of and Soundwave tilts his helm slightly.

“Very well Dreadwing, report to me when you return.” With those words, the Warlord turns and leaves.  

Dreadwing waits a moment, but when soundwave doesn’t follow their leader, he instead opts for a tactical retreat. Walking towards a drone, he requests a Ground-bridge to the last recorded location of their enemies and proceeds to walk through.

His last glimpse of the Nemesis being the reflection swirling in the TICs visor.

---------------------------------Timeskip--------------------------------

The sun sits just past the brow of the horizon as Dreadwing lands in the shadow of a butte overlooking Jasper Nevada. (Y/n) tumbling from his cockpit to his servos as he transforms.

“Is that it? Your home?”

The human blinks back tears in the dying light of the sun. “Yes.”

“Do you have your provisions?”

(Y/n) hefts the backpack they are carrying, the same they had when taken by Skyquake. Their personal possessions as well as some snack bars and bottles of water jangle and slosh within. (He/She/They) nod(s).

“When it gets dark, I will accompany you to…” he stops, the distant sound of approaching engines interrupting him. A scan of the horizon reveals its source. “Autobots,” he hisses.

He holds the human closer to his spark and steps further into the shadow. Another scan reveals the distance to be traversable by (Y/n) in two hours, which coincidently is the time they have till true nightfall.

Swiftly kneeling, he places them on the ground. Servos cupped around their body, as if to savour their heat. “It would go against my duty to allow you to fall into Autobot hands. You must walk from here.”

He does not move or pull away, waiting as (Y/n) performs a very human gesture, a kiss to the digit closest to them. Resting their own hand on his, as if afraid to pull away.

“Thank you Dreadwing.”

The Decepticon stands, “I will lead them away.”

(Y/n) nods and turns, not wanting to watch but listening as he transforms, clothes writhing in the downdraft he creates as he soars away overhead. They begin the trek to the town, even as he fires upon the Autobots, causing them to U-turn to chase him down.

They force their feet to carry them further, even as he fights to keep his path steady…having left the final part of his spark behind.

“Goodbye.”

[riseoftheradiotrons]

“I like this human disguise.”

Starscream admired his holoform in the camera of Pharma’s digital notepad. He liked this appearance - his thin face, the silver rings through his earlobes, his severe grey eyes and lean, elegant frame. The crop top hoodie detracted from the elegance, but it fit, he thought. This wasn’t a very high-class city, so carrying oneself like a king would be strange here.

“Why are each of our hood-sweaters missing something?” Moonkiller tugged at the armholes of her purple sleeveless hoodie. A bold tattoo of the Decepticon symbol was on her shoulder.

“I think it’s a human thing. They like playing around with these ‘hoodies’.” Pharma conjured an additional article of clothing for tors holoform - a pack of hairclips, the color of Bulb-Rust - and clipped them into tors bleached-blonde hair.

Moonkiller’s holoform leaned back against the body of Moonkiller herself, which was currently parked on land despite being an aircraft carrier. It was made invisible at the moment, so it looked like she was simply leaning on air.

“Pharma, half of your fuselage is out.”

“I don’t mind it. If the humans like it, I’ll keep it.” Pharma tugged at the side of the chest window in tors hoodie. It revealed a swatch of skin about where you’d expect.

Starscream finished his preening, tying his unusually cut black hair back into two ponytails, one above the other. “Don’t the humans have a different word for fuselage? And hull?”

Pharma shrugged. “Maybe.”

Moonkiller hoisted the holoform duffel bag onto her shoulder. “If it is a necesary term, we will learn it.”

“Well, there’s a city out there that we need to blend in with.” Starscream conjured one last item for his holoform - wireless earbuds, to block out excessive noise - and started off towards the flashing lights and towering buildings close by.

The city was teeming with life and artificial lights - no amount of stars in the sky could compare to the blinking yellows and flashing neons of every sign and building. The scent of fried foods was thick in the air, and conversation and chatter could be heard at every corner. Amongst the crowd of wildly varying humans, Starscream, Pharma and Moonkiller went unnoticed.

One failed attempt at holding Pharma back from hijacking the cash register and three food cart visits later, Moonkiller was munching away at a churro.

“Human food may not be optimal for military supply, but it tastes wonderful.”

“I’ve visited other human-inhabited planets before! They... didn’t quite have this many humans, but they still had great food.” Pharma took a bite of tors birthday cake flavored ice cream, and a passerby looked on in disgust, as if biting rather than licking ice cream was akin to taking one’s pants off in public.

“We’ve still got someone to look for,” Starscream said between bites of eclair.

“Who?”

Moonkiller looked confused. “Did we not... discuss the mission with you, Pharma?”

“No. Maybe you just discussed it between you two, and forgot.”

“...ah. We might have. His name is Cryogen. He’s moneycapped, for 500,000 shanix. His alternate form is unnatural, a subzero exploration rover created by Perceptor.”

“Ohhh. Him. I think he likes Pax-03 a bit more than Pax-08, but there’s a good chance he could be here.”

“Do you know what his holoform looks like at all?”

“Kinda short, skinny. Long silvery-blue ponytail. Wears a cloak all the time. Creepy hands.”

“That’s a weird detail to notice.” Starscream remarked, licking the eclair filling off his fingers.

“He’s got creepy hands, though. Really creepy hands.” Pharma shivered. “First thing you notice.”

“...I’ll take your word for it.”

Moonkiller had finished her churro, and was now eating a second. “If Cryogen is not here, we can go straight to Pax-03, to finish off the city planets as quickly as possible.”

Pharma looked back up at Moonkiller, tors half-eaten ice cream cone in hand. “...could we set tonight aside for just trying human food? Learning a little more about human society?”

She looked back at Starscream. He was actually eating something, for the first time in days.

Well, they still needed to learn more about human society, and hey, maybe they’d find Cryogen trying to inconspicuously order food.

“...regrettably, I will allow it.”

[thenamesblurrito]

Astrotrain/Spacewarp dude. Record, for the main four Decepticons finding their relics? Ask meme.

Record: give us an in-character blurb about x thing or event in this AU, from history, from the plot, etc!

Written as a fic excerpt instead of in-character, but hey I got it done. Bonus points to anybody who spots the furmanism!

Also the hellsite’s readmore is broken, I hate this.

Starscream shuffled closer to the meager shelter of the arch, folding his wings in tight against the wind. Skywarp huddled behind him, and Thundercracker hadn’t even left the doorway. Megatron, however, braced himself out on the tarmac of the Academy’s elevated landing strip. His fierce grin, turned towards the force of the tempest, was illuminated just enough by his optics to make out over the distance. Lightning writhed in the tangle of clouds that had swallowed the sky overhead, and the wind-driven rain splattered in buckets against every surface. A chunk of debris from a shattered outbuilding slammed into the side of the hangar and dropped into the pile of other detritus quickly accumulating not far from the trine’s position.

“Why is he even out here?” Skywarp shouted over the gale, difficult to hear even though he was right next to Starscream’s audial.

“How should I know?” Starscream yelled back. “Probably to get inspiration, or emotional power, or some other scrap that he prizes over surviving!”

Another tongue of lightning lashed the sky above them and the following whip-crack of thunder shook the hangar to its foundations. Starscream was half a second from marching back to the door and leaving the melodramatic idiot out there to die alone, but a powerful blow from the gale winds pinned him to the wall. Megatron, bereft of the support of the hangar arch, went sprawling, skidding backwards and rolling pedes over helm like just another piece of debris until he thwacked into the wall only a few meters from them.

“That’s it!” Starscream howled. He left Skywarp to give Megatron a hand, instead fumbling his way to the door and shoving in past Thundercracker.

“I’ve been dragged into hundreds of stupid plans in all my vorns stuck with you, but this one was the worst!” Droplets flew from his frame as he whipped around to jab a finger at a bedraggled Megatron, clinging to Skywarp. “You can stay here and ‘appreciate the fury of the storm’ all you’d like, dumbaft, but I am going back down into a proper building with solid walls and waiting this out like a sensible person with survival instincts!”

“Don’t you feel it, though? The gravitas?” He wore the same smile Starscream had seen over and over again: the one that appears when he sees something awful and immediately wants to emulate it. “It’s like the darkness is alive. This isn’t any ordinary storm! This is a calamity.”

“You’re a calamity!”

“Uh, guys?” Thundercracker muttered, unheard over the storm outside and the brewing argument.

“No, there is something out there,” Megatron said, shoving off of Skywarp. “Didn’t you see it, or were you too blinded by its terror? Could you not experience the majesty within the dread? Do you so cling to the light that you cannot bear the shadow for fear of drowning in it?” He paused. “I should write those lines down.”

“Guys?”

“Here’s a line for you, with small words so you can understand: You! Are! Stupid! We shouldn’t have flown you up here! What if the stairwell is locked? If we’re stuck in this hangar, I promise I will make sure you don’t enjoy it.”

“Guys, please!”

“WHAT?” The two turned to look at Thundercracker, who was still staring out the door. Skywarp had joined him, and they both seemed nervous.

“Was the thing you saw like that thing?” he squeaked and pointed up.

As all four of them clustered in the doorway, lightning illuminated an enormous square of sheet metal and durasteel, hovering in the wind like some predatory bird among a swarm of other fragments of buildings. It tumbled one way, soared another, mesmerizing in the way it spun, and they watched it for a long frozen moment before another gust slapped it directly at the hangar.

If asked about this later, Starscream will deny ever shrieking, instead insisting that he smoothly sprung away from the door towards the stairwell along with the other three. His siblings, however, would delight in detailing the way his voice broke in the middle of his terrified screech and how he had to scrabble for purchase against the puddles covering the floor. Each youngling made a mad dash for the other side of the hangar and the safety of the stairs. The howling gale covered their frantic pedesteps—that and the sound of the flying metal wall exploding through the roof.

The only thing Starscream could think, clutching in desperation at Thundercracker and clenching his plating against the sting of a rubble avalanche, was that this was so much worse than turbulence.

The enormous projectile went clean through the top of the hangar and slid through the back wall, crashing down into the library section of the main building below. Starscream only registered bits of it: a beam from the ceiling sweeping him and Thundercracker off the side, the sudden presence of the rain again, a flash of Megatron’s green paint in a rush of falling concrete, a great shattering thunder as the roof below them caved in. His grip on his sibling’s arm never faltered.

The sudden jolt of deceleration didn’t register to him as much as being pelted with datatrax instead of debris. Opening his optics—when had he closed them?—he found himself in a thoroughly ruined library. Records and datapads rained from splintered shelves along with the deluge coming through the hole in the ceiling. The flying wall stood embedded in the floor like a monument to its own destructive force. Starscream blinked away the fugue and looked—Thundercracker beside him, wincing but not obviously wounded, Megatron groaning atop a chunk of steel, and yes, there’s Skywarp, dazed but standing. He let his helm flop back down against Thundercracker’s thigh in relief.

He heard Megatron wheeze as he clambered to the ground, then take a deep vent, before, “FRAAAG YOOOU TOOOO, YOU SLAG SUCKING STOOOORM!”

Starscream grunted in rare agreement.

“Why do you hate everything?” Thundercracker moaned.

“Because the world is broken,” Megatron roared. “and there’s nothing I can do to fix it!”

“What,” Starscream muttered and propped himself up to watch him stomp back and forth.

“I want to revel in the glory of the sky, not wonder if this was a manipulated event! I’d rather be terrified of Cybertron’s natural roiling power than at the possibility that the weather department whipped this up deliberately to destroy an institution that so openly defies functionism!” Fists clenched and dentae bared, Megatron paced in a fervent energy he usually only reached during a performance, sneering up into the rain. “The students accepted to this academy are the best and brightest younglings in all of Cybertron and the colonies! Why then must I suspect that the functionist regime was willing to wipe out the hundreds of us here to eliminate a potential threat?”

“Holy hand, does everything have to turn political for you?” Skywarp sprawled onto a pile of records and flung his arm over his face.

“YES!”

He made an impressive figure, Starscream had to admit to himself. Pedes planted, optics blazing, and fist raised defiant, Megatron looked less like the moody, melodramatic youngling rebel he knew and more like some commander out of the history books. A lyric from one of his songs filtered through his mind: To war, I’ll roar, until I rage no more.

“We are being deceived! Our government, the ones whose duty ought to be the protection and guidance of the people, have instead betrayed us by turning frametypes into a measurement of personhood! We are told to despise our fellows for simply having been forged in different shapes, and no one is aware enough to realize we all share the same suffering! We are directed to labor only in the manner dictated to us, when true quality is only attained by the dedication and skill of those who are not forced away from the work they want to do! What freedoms we have are a pittance, tossed to us as an afterthought by tyrants.

“The only solution to tyranny is anarchy! Every scrap of resistance is worth something!” Megatron spread his arms and yelled into the storm, “I’ll stand alone if I have to! Has Primus left me without support?”

“Yup,” Thundercracker grunted.

“Nooo…” Skywarp raised a limp servo before letting it flop back down.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Starscream said.

“It doesn’t matter!” He ignored them. “I accept it! I will have no function from my oppressors, but this I declare as my very PURPOSE!”

At first Starscream thought Megatron had been struck by lightning. The instant blinding light, the shockwave, the wash of charge and sound that whited out his every sensor, it all seemed to fit. He unwound slowly from his reflexive curled position, still blinking at a luminous afterimage of his friend burned into his optics. But the room wasn’t burnt. Megatron huddled on the floor, shuddering, but not a molten mess of slag.

“Wha-att,” voice breaking, he had to pause and reset his vocalizer. “What the frag was that?”

Thundercracker shuffled to a sitting position with a spooked expression. “Lightning? Power cables snapped?”

“Are you okay?” said Skywarp, the only one of the three who had rushed to check on him.

“Yeah,” croaked Megatron. “I… I think I’m the best I’ve ever been.”

“Holy slag, he’s actually gone insane now,” Starscream said.

He and Thundercracker jumped up to look for themselves. Megatron unfurled haltingly. His left arm he kept clutched to his chest until the end, revealing at last a glowing white hexagon. It was a plaque of some sort, with some stylized picture on one side that Starscream couldn’t make out. Only about a finger’s width thick but as wide as his face, it was not unlike a datatrax but for its shape and intricately etched surface. Also the fact that it began hovering a few spans above Megatron’s hand.

“What the pit-” Skywarp yelped, skittering backwards.

Megatron just stared, entranced. “It… speaks to me. It’s connected to me, I think.”

“Starscream, he’s actually-actually gone insane now,” Thundercracker hissed.

He didn’t bother replying. There was just, something, something there, maybe. If he looked a little harder, Starscream thought, he’d be able to see it. The thing pirouetted and pulsed like it was—like it was alive, and he found himself tingling all over with a knowledge that he was in the presence of something powerful beyond mortal measure. Or maybe the tingle was genuine waves of power it emitted, he didn’t know, but he wanted to know, and he wondered if Megatron would just be willing to share for a moment—

“Uhm? There’s more of them!”

Skywarp’s panic made him look, and there they were. Three more hexagons, scattered in an alcove made by piled debris a couple meters away, not yet glowing but certainly more shiny than the dust-turned-mud should allow. Thundercracker grabbed a piece of rebar and made to nudge them into the rubble, but Starscream snapped, “Wait.”

He and Skywarp turned to look at him incredulously. Starscream worked his jaw for a moment, gaze fixed on those three things, then dragged his helm back around to look at Megatron. He stared at him, orange optics glinting white with the thing’s glow. There was a challenge there, and encouragement, and maybe, just maybe, some hint of that power Starscream felt still filtering out across his frame.

“I—”

His siblings seemed scared. He was more scared of allowing the moment to pass than of the danger of this unknown.

“I want one.”

[sgtransformersdork]

Nemesis Crew

Throughout my writing process I've been referring to the original Decepticons I introduced as the 'Nemesis Crew'. It just kinda stuck, I guess. I kinda think about it like how the main Autobots in Transformers Prime are called 'Team Prime'. I'll admit that I've taken some inspiration from Prime, but I'm also trying to find my own footing too. Anyway, back to the main focus, which was listing the Nemesis Crew. Quick note is that this mentions original and basic characterization and that there are more complex arcs and personalities. Anyway, here we go:

Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons and commander of the Nemesis. White body, gray limbs, blue wings attached to back, cannons attached to shoulder, Cybertronian combat jet alt mode. Megatron is a wise, stoic, and experienced leader, but is also aloof and somber, though not uncaring. Though seeming intimidating, he can be compassionate and poetic.

Starscream, Decepticon Second in Command. White, black, and red Seeker frame, swords attached to wings. Starscream is intelligent and a strong fighter, but he struggles with a lack of self confidence and an anxiety disorder, though don't mistake these issues for weakness, for he will still fight to the death for the Decepticon Cause and fellow Decepticons.

Soundwave, Communications Officer. Dark blue and white, yellow visor, face half covered by battle mask. Soundwave is laid back, a little unorganized, a music fanatic (Cybertronian and Earth), but also an excellent communications officer. He also has an arsenal of minicons, made up of Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat. Despite his laid back attitude, Soundwave is well aware of the tragedy of war, but seems to try to forget whenever possible.

Shockwave, engineer. Red and black, tall thin body, one blue eye instead of a face. (I would like to clarify that Shockwave is modeled after TFA Shockwave, but is red and black, the previous Decepticons are modeled after their Shattered Glass versions). Shockwave was forced to undergo empurata, when the Autobots decided he would be useful to them. The Decepticons later found him and rescued him, but he was still damaged physically and emotionally, hence why he doesn't fight. Despite this, he works hard to be useful to the Decepticons and create inventions to further their efforts against the Autobots.

Knockout, Chief Medical Officer. Aquamarine, car alt mode, on the smaller side, very scratched up and dented. Knockout is a medic with limited fighting skills, but has an electric staff (for awhile I jokingly referred to it as a 'Cybertronian cattle prod') to defend himself. He can be kind, awkward, but also serious when it comes to his job. While he doesn't seem to care for his appearance or self care, he does an excellent job of caring for his patients and conjunx.

Breakdown, nurse. Blue and gray, orange face. (Confession: I like his appearance so I kept it the same). Breakdown was once a great warrior, but due to an event he dislikes to talk about, he now suffers from PTSD and has since decided to dedicate his life to helping injured Decepticons, along with his conjunx, Knockout. He can be soft spoken, solemn, easy to miss despite his size, but also has great bedside (berthside?) manner.

Thunderblast, soldier. Purple and yellow, strange wing-like attachments, feminine body, speed boat alt mode. (I don't know how many people know about her, she's a female Decepticon from the Cybertron cartoon, the final entry in the Unicron Trilogy. She essentially looks the same as normal, but with blue eyes and the yellow and purple of her design switched). Thunderblast is a Decepticon soldier, with a passion for history and recording it. She can be somewhat rude, flaunting her intellect, and is not particularly well liked. Though her tendency to rely on no one but herself and her unwillingness to open up stems from her past.

Skywarp and Thundercracker, seekers. Thundercracker is a dark blue and white seeker frame, while Skywarp is purple and white. (I forgot they had Shattered Glass versions when I started, so I ended up creating my own versions. I'll admit I did not stick to the actual Shattered Glass stories at all). Despite being veterans of the war, they're not above being somewhat immature. They tend to joke a lot and tend recieve discipline for their actions. However, they are inseparable, and very loyal to Starscream, as the three are in a trine.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Fortuna Inversis

Kaon. It’s an open, festering wound on the otherwise generally peaceful and prosperous planet of Cybertron; a city-state prostrate under the heel of the tyrannical Lord Straxus. Everyone knows this, and no one knows it more than the inhabitants of its closest neighbor, the city-state of Vos. Kaon is a place of energy deprivation, filth, poverty, and misery; in short, it is a place Vosians go out of their way to avoid. So how did a well-bred Vosian noblemech like me end up in one of Kaon’s hovels? That, I am afraid, is a rather complicated story, and for you to fully understand it, I need to start at the beginning. My name is Succendam Off de domo Domini Cael (or, for those of you who do not speak Vosian, Blast Off of the House of Space), the creation and only heir of Dominus Spatium and Domine Astrum.

My creators were extremely wealthy, arguably even wealthier than the royal family, and they were a regular presence in the court of Rex Ventus, the King of Vos; however, they were also spacefaring explorers, and, as such, they were killed in a particularly unpleasant spaceship explosion when I was four stellar cycles away from the age of legal majority. It was a tragedy, of course, but as they had been away from home frequently for most of my life prior to that point, it did not affect me as much as it might have, and upon their deaths, I became the master of the Cael estate and its workers. Not long afterwards, I hired a mech from Kaon to serve as my clerk. He was quiet and efficient, and generally did good work, but he was always filthy and clearly half-starved, not to mention a war-frame, and that did not fit in with the image I wanted my staff to project. Thus, I fired him; which proved to be stressful for both of us. When I informed him that he was being let go, he started creating quite a scene, begging me to keep him on for the sake of his family and generally acting horribly undignified. In the end, I grew tired of trying to reason with him and had my guards remove him from my estate. After a few days, I forgot about him altogether, little imagining that we would encounter each other again, and my life progressed quite smoothly for the next two stellar cycles. I even arranged a sponsalia (that is, an engagement) for myself with Illusion of the Furtim Line, a female from the Towers District. But my happiness proved to be transient. Just a few solar cycles after I reached sedecim (sixteen) stellar cycles of age, I was baselessly arrested for treason. Sure, I may have made a few….inopportune….statements about Rex Ventus’ ability to rule, but I had never plotted to overthrow him, and everyone knew it. As he soon made clear, his real interest was not whether or not I had betrayed him but rather to see if he could get his filthy hands on my land and holdings….and irritatingly, because he was the king and thus the head of the judiciary system of Vos, it soon became apparent that he could do just that. On the pretext of incredibly flimsy evidence (even the king’s young creation, Princeps Stella Clamor- Prince Starscream- remarked on the flimsiness of it), I was found guilty of treason, and stripped of my title, my lands, and my holdings. Ventus made a show of mercy, claiming that he would spare me from execution because of my youth. Then he banished me to the slums of Kaon with no servants, no Shanix, and no energon….which, had fate not intervened, would have been nothing more than a prolonged death sentence. So much for his mercy. Not long after I was abandoned in Kaon, I was approached by a mech whom, I would soon learn, was one of Lord Straxus’ Enforcers.

“What are you doing out at night, Empty?” he spat. While I could understand Neocybex fairly well, my ability to speak it was rather limited. Most nobles (and their servants) could speak Vosian, after all, so there had been little need for me to practice speaking the language. Thus, my response to his question was less than elegant.

“I do wrong?” I stammered in broken Neocybex.

“What’s the matter, Empty? Can’t you speak?” the Enforcer mocked

“Empty?” I echoed, utterly confused. I knew the word-in Vosian, it was vaccus -but he seemed to be using it as a noun rather than an adjective.

“Yeah, an Empty. That’s what you are…a worthless piece of gutter trash. Although if you’re too stupid to know what that means, then maybe you’re also too stupid to know that no one is allowed out after curfew. If you don’t get inside in the next ten minutes, I’m taking you to prison. You got that, Empty?”

“Yes,” I replied. With that, I bolted away from the mech and started searching for some way to get inside before I got thrown into a Kaonite prison, which I was certain would make the one I had been locked up in in Vos seem like my palatial estate by comparison. After a few minutes, I stumbled upon a small building-a hovel, really-and, in desperation, banged on the door.

“ Fac me introire! Ergot placet mihi! ” (Let me in! Please, let me in!) I was in such a panic that I didn’t even stop to consider the fact that whoever was inside probably didn’t speak Vosian. After a few seconds, the door was opened by an exhausted-looking war-frame, one who was startlingly familiar.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he barked in Neocybex.

“Need roof...help,” I replied, now desperately wishing that I was more fluent in the language.

“ Vosiane loqui possum. Quod requires? ” (I can speak Vosian. What do you need?) the other mech asked, surprising me. His rough, thickly accented voice was also familiar, but I still couldn’t place him.

“ Et opus tectumque . Quaeso! ” (I need shelter. Please!) I replied. The war-build examined me, and then glared at me coldly.

“Et nota videtur. Quod nomen tibi est? ” (You seem familiar. What is your name?)

“ Succendam Off de domo Domini Cael ,” I replied….and just as I said this, I realized why the war-build seemed so familiar. He was the same one whom I had fired from his position as my clerk two stellar cycles previously. A sense of dread washed over my spark. This was not good.

“Quid si ego auxiliatus sum tui? Et accensus sunt me, cum scires haec non erat familiaris. ” (Why should I help you? You fired me unjustly, even though you knew I had a family.) the war-build said coldly.

“ Paenitet! Paenitet-” (I’m sorry! I’m sorry…) I exclaimed, stopping short when  I realized that I had never bothered to learn his name.

“ Impetus. Impetus sit nomen meum. Cum tibi, ne quidem sciunt nomine meo: ego auxiliatus sum tibi, non. Exite!” ( Onslaught . Onslaught is my name. Since you do not even know my name, I will not help you. Go away.) In complete panic, I fell to my knees.

“ Amabo, noli me manere. Faciam quod vis facere! ” (Please, let me stay! I’ll do anything you want!) I pleaded.

“ Quidquid ?” ( Anything ?) Onslaught asked.

“ Ita, quod, ” (Yes, anything.) I replied. Onslaught seemed to ponder this for a few seconds, then pulled me to my feet.

“‘Ut maneat in domo in tribus conditionalibus. Primo, vos mos reperio a officium, mercedem tuam super me, et convertam. Habeo tres alere velis nobiscum sic oportet operam. Secundam, maneat, si tu non es membrum de familia. Et erit servum, et sic potest haberi. Tertius, et sic loquetur ad me, domine . Mecum adhuc volo?” (You may stay in my home, on three conditions. First, you will find a job and turn over your wages to me. I have three brothers to support, so if you wish to stay with us, you must contribute financially. Second, if you stay, you are not a member of the family. You will be a servant and be treated as such. Third, you will address me as “sir.” Do you still wish to stay with me?) he asked. Naturally, I was horrified by the conditions that he had set, but because the alternative was even worse, I was forced to swallow my pride and accept them.

“ Ita domine. Habeo alia optio, ” (Yes, sir. I have no other choice.) I said. Onslaught nodded.

“In that case, you can come in. You will speak Neocybex from now on.”

“I...try, sir,” I replied. Onslaught nodded, and mercifully did not comment on my broken Neocybex. Then he led me inside the shack of a building he called his home, and I was shocked by the squalor inside. There was a table, three recharging centers, and four chairs, crammed into a space that was smaller than the storage closets on my estate. Other than that, there was no furniture-no washracks, no energon dispenser, nothing! In place of those essentials were a third grown mech who clearly transformed into a tank, a grey youngling whose rotors marked him as a helicopter, and the tiniest sparkling I had ever seen. He was bright yellow and had enormous purple optics, and he appeared to turn into a ground-based vehicle of some sort, though I wasn’t sure of what type.

“These are my brothers, Brawl, Vortex, and Swindle,” Onslaught said, as he pointed to the tank, the youngling, and the sparkling in turn.

“Who’s that, Onslaught?” the tank, Brawl, asked. He was exceedingly loud, and I could tell right from the beginning that he was going to be a major irritant.

“This is Blast Off of the House of Cael,” Onslaught replied.

“The rich jerk who fired you? What’s he doing here?”

“I’m not entirely certain of that, Brawl, but given the fact that he, a very wealthy, very arrogant mech, begged me to allow him to take shelter in what he probably thinks is a shack, I’d guess that he has run into a disaster of some kind,” Onslaught replied. When he said this, I realized for the first time just what I had done. I had agreed to work as an unpaid servant in exchange for being allowed to take shelter in a hovel !  

“We can barely keep ourselves fueled; why’re we givin’ some of our energy and our home to a rich, spoiled jerk?” Brawl asked.

“We aren’t “giving” Blast Off anything. This is probably a foreign concept to him, but rest assured-from now on, he’s going to have to earn every drop of energon we give him,” Onslaught replied. Although he was ostensibly speaking to his brother, it was clear that Onslaught was telling me something as well: namely, that if I didn’t please him, I would not get to refuel.

“Where’s he gonna recharge?” This question came from Vortex. The question being something that I, too, was interested in, I turned to Onslaught for the answer.

“There isn’t enough space for him to recharge on the floor, at least not without us tripping over him on a constant basis, the recharging center you share with Swindle is far too small for another sparkling, let alone a shuttle of his size, and my recharging center barely fits me. Thus, he will have to share Brawl’s recharging center,” Onslaught replied.

“ What ?” Brawl and I exclaimed simultaneously. Vortex giggled.

“Now you know how I feel having to share a recharger with Swindle,” he said to his older brother. Brawl growled, and I backed away from him, but the small helicopter just giggled again.

“Vortex, go back to recharge,” Onslaught said.

“But I’m not tired! And Swindle kicks really hard in recharge,” Vortex whined, gesturing at the unconscious sparkling. How that sparkling managed to stay in recharge with Brawl and Vortex shouting around him, I did not and do not understand.

“I know that sharing a recharger is unpleasant, Vortex, but we don’t have enough Shanix or enough space to get you your own. If you don’t recharge properly, you’ll be at risk for developing a virus that we wouldn’t  be able to afford to treat. Please at least make an effort,” Onslaught said gently. Vortex pouted, but he climbed onto the tiny recharging center regardless. Evidently, he had been lying about not being tired, as, only a few minutes later, he was clearly in recharge. Once he was assured that the youngling was resting, Onslaught turned back to Brawl and me.

“It’s very late, so it would be wise for the three of us to get some rest, too. I’ll see you both in the morning,” he said. With that, he went to his own recharging chamber and was almost immediately dead to the world, leaving my-shudder-new companion and me staring awkwardly at each other.

“Just my luck, havin’ to share a recharger with a prissy little snob,” Brawl muttered.

“I...not like….either,” I replied, mortified by how poor my spoken Neocybex was. Brawl shot me an odd look.

“Why’re you talkin’ funny, Prissy?” he asked. I scowled at him, as I did not at all appreciate him calling me “prissy”. It was hardly my fault that I had been bred to be disgusted by the squalor that these brothers lived in!

“I speak Vosian. I...not good...speaking...Neocybex,” I explained, inwardly fuming at how unfair it was that I was expected to adjust to the language used by these plebeians.

“Oh. Okay then. Which side of the recharger do you want? I ain’t gonna like it regardless, so it don’t matter none to me,” Brawl asked. I idly wondered why he insisted on butchering his own language before replying.

“Left,” I replied. I had no desire to be trapped in between the tank and a wall.

“Fine. Just so you know, Prissy, I snore. Hope you don’t mind,” Brawl said as he got onto his recharging center. I very much did mind, but, under the circumstances, there was nothing I could do but wish fervently that I was anywhere but in the slums of Kaon and follow him to the recharging center. I gingerly joined the tank on the center, glad that the lighting was too poor for me to see how filthy they both probably were, and struggled to enter recharge. It seemed as though every time I was about to do so, Brawl’s engines decided to rumble noisily, and then, as though that wasn’t unpleasant enough, he eventually rolled over in such a way that he pinned my arm to the recharging center’s slab. This was, as one might imagine, quite painful, and I cried out, but no one reacted. Evidently, they were accustomed to recharging through a racket. After what seemed like an eternity of discomfort, exhaustion eventually took over and I fell into recharge.

“Wake up! You have work to do!” I checked my chronometer, and was startled to find that it was only 4:30 in the morning.

“ Suss etiam mane, ” (It’s too early.) I protested. I was not fully awake, and, as such, my CPU had not yet fully registered that I was no longer at home. Then my optics focused, I saw Onslaught, and the events of the previous night rushed back to me. I groaned in a mixture of exhaustion and disgust, and then quickly got to my feet. A quick perusal of the room (my processor simply refused to accept it as a building) revealed that Onslaught, Brawl, and Vortex were already awake. The tiny sparkling was still asleep, but then, he wasn’t even out of his first frame. Clearly, then, and much to my distaste, I was going to have to become an early riser.

“I had better not have to wake you up again, Blast Off. As one of my employers told me, it’s ‘not my job to coddle the hired help’,” Onslaught snapped. The fact that I had been the employer in question made the whole situation even more mortifying.

“Yes, sir,” I replied weakly. I knew that protesting would likely only make my-*shudder*- employer angrier.

“Good. Now, your alternate mode is a shuttle- if a small one- correct?” Onslaught asked.

“Yes, sir. Quare -er,why?” I asked, wondering what my alternate mode had to do with the work that he would expect me to do (whatever that proved to be).

“You have no work experience, and you can barely speak Neocybex. Due to those handicaps, the quickest way for you to get a job is to get you employed as transport of some kind, since, as a shuttle, your alt mode meets the main requirement for that position. Here are the instructions to the transport center; download them to your CPU,”  Onslaught replied as he handed me a small chip. I stared at him, mildly appalled. A noblemech working as transport? It was beneath my dignity!

“Hey, Onslaught, I don’t think Prissy likes that idea,” Brawl observed, sounding mildly amused. Vortex snickered.

“Can I call him Prissy, too?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Sure, kid,” Brawl replied.

“You’re in no position to complain about what they call you, Blast Off; or, for that matter, the job I want you to get…..unless, of course, you’d prefer to find energon and shelter on your own,” Onslaught said coldly. I sighed weakly. Any ludicrous hope I had had that I would be able to maintain a semblance of dignity as the-ugh-unpaid servant of a pauper was effectively dashed by what Onslaught had just told me.

“I….be good, sir.” Onslaught nodded.

“In that case, get going. Brawl and I have our own jobs to get to,” he snapped.

“Energon?” I asked. Surely, they didn’t expect me to go job-hunting on an empty fuel tank! Brawl and Vortex laughed.

“Wow, you’re even dumber than Brawl if you expect energon now! We never get to refuel at this time of the solar cycle!” Vortex exclaimed.

“Dumber than Brawl? I’ll show you dumb, tiny!” Brawl bellowed.

“You always do, bro,” Vortex replied, giggling as he ducked to avoid the punch Brawl threw at him. Such barbarism!

“Enough! Blast Off, not everyone is able to refuel whenever they feel like it. This unit is lucky if we get to refuel once a solar cycle, and at present, I have gone without refueling for three solar cycles. Do you understand?” Onslaught asked. I stared at him in shock, wondering vaguely if this was some sort of joke, before realizing that he was serious. If the unit couldn’t even fuel itself properly, no wonder Onslaught needed my labor! Grimly resigning myself to hunger, I nodded.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Then, for the last time, I will tell you to go find a job. I don’t have time to explain everything to you. Brawl and I have work to get to,” Onslaught said. I nodded and quickly left the hovel, then downloaded the directions to the transport station into my CPU, transformed into my alternate mode, and took off. Roughly forty minutes later, I arrived at my destination, which, although not quite as disgusting as the hovel I was currently living in, was still quite filthy. I transformed, landed, and walked inside the building. The inside was just as filthy as the outside. I reluctantly walked over to the window that was marked as “Employment”. Much to my surprise, I was the only one there, so I winced, swallowed my pride for the millionth time in less than 24 hours, and walked closer to the window. The mech on the other side looked at me with very little interest.

“You a shuttle?” he asked. He had a very strange, slightly echo-y voice.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“You’re awful small for a shuttle,” the mech said. In response, I transformed into my alternate mode, which, although much sleeker than the shuttles typically used for-ugh- transport, was still most definitely a shuttle. Once I was confident that the other mech was convinced that I was, indeed, a shuttle, I returned to my robot mode.

“All right, all right, you’ve made your point. Though why a delicate thing like you is applying to work as a garbage shuttle, I couldn’t begin to guess,” the other mech said. It was at this point that I realized just how much of a grudge Onslaught held against me. It was one thing to expect me to work, but this? This was an entirely different level of humiliating.

“Job,” I replied weakly.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he asked.

“Vosian. Not good at Neocybex,” I replied. His optics brightened in apparent understanding.

“You can’t speak Neocybex? That explains it, then. Garbage transports don’t have to talk much-and given how lithe you are, I think I’ve got a good job for you. You see, the Towers District has been requesting more garbage transports, but they say they think our regular employees look too bulky. A sleek shuttle like you would be the perfect fit, and I can finally get my boss off my back about that. What do you say?” he said. My first instinct was to say “absolutely not”, but then I remembered that my life was very dependent on my getting a job.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying not to sound absolutely horrified.

“Great! You’re hired! Follow me!” he exclaimed. I complied, and he led me to what appeared to be a hanger of some sort. A few other shuttles, all much larger than me, were milling about. They were all filthy and covered in grime, and I shuddered. My beautiful, clean plating….

“Can you transform for me?” a different mech asked. I did so, and then he started gathering cans of paint.

“What...you doing?” The new mech laughed .

“Repainting you. All garbage transports have a specific color, and you don’t match it yet. That being said, this will probably take awhile, so if you want to take a nap, you can. I’ll wake you up when I’m done,” he said. More out of a desire to escape my situation than anything else, I decided to take his advice. I was reawoken about forty-five minutes later.

“All right, I’m done. You can go ahead and transform back into robot mode now,” the second mech said. I complied, and had to hold back a nervous breakdown. My beautiful purple-and-white coloration had been replaced with a hideous shade of brown, and my family crest had been painted over and replaced with Neocybex lettering that read “Garbage Disposal”. Once I had calmed down from panic to mild disgust, I turned to the second mech.

“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t feel thankful at all, but it seemed prudent not to let him know that. The mech smiled.

“No problem,” he replied. He walked off, and the mech who had hired me walked up and took his place, then handed me a chip similar to the one Onslaught had given me earlier.

“Here’s your schedule. Your shift starts at 6 and ends at 5. You make 12 Shanix per day; if you’re late to any of the pickups, it comes out of your pay. Any extra Shanix you earn will come from tips. Any questions?” he said rapidly.

“I...start now?” I asked.

“No, you start tomorrow. That way, you have some time to go over the schedule, though I guess you’ll have to find someone to read it for you if you don’t understand Neocybex very well,” he replied. I didn’t bother to tell the mech that I could read Neocybex just fine; there didn’t seem to be much point.

“I...go home?” I asked. I felt very relieved that I was not going to be immediately thrust into a humiliating, unfamiliar work environment.

“Yeah, you can go home now. But if you aren’t back here by 6 AM sharp tomorrow, you’re fired. Got it?” the mech replied.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. With that, I left the transport station, transformed into my vehicle mode, pulled up the directions that I had used to get to the station, and then simply reversed the directions in order to get back to Onslaught’s hovel. (One of the benefits of being a shuttle is the fact that we all possess a natural skill for navigation.) Upon my arrival, I returned to robot mode and knocked on the door, which was opened by none other than the tiny sparkling.

“Hi,” he said. He seemed a bit bemused, but not particularly frightened. A few seconds later, Vortex joined him at the door.

“That’s the shuttle I told you about, Stumpy, the one who showed up last night when you were in recharge. His name is Blast Off, but Brawl and I call him Prissy because he used to be Onslaught’s boss, back when you were even littler than you are now. He used to be really rich, and he still thinks he’s better than us, but something bad happened to him and now Onslaught says he’s the “hired help”, and that means he has to do what we say. Ain’t that right, Prissy?”

“Yes,” I replied, still a bit shell-shocked by the fact that I-the wealthiest noblemech of Vos-now had to take orders from two filthy little brats.

“Onslaught must think you’ll make a lot of Shanix.” Unbelievably, this particular comment came out of the mouth of the tiny sparkling.

“What?” I asked.

“If you’re living with us, we’ll have to buy energon for you, which will increase our expenses. If Onslaught’s letting you stay anyway, it must be because you’ll bring in enough energy to cover the difference-and also make a net profit,” the little sparkling replied. I stared at him in utter bewilderment. What sort of sparkling had that level of understanding of economics?

“Onslaught says that Stumpy’s an “economics prodigy”,” Vortex explained, as though sensing my confusion.

“I see,” I replied. It was rather unfortunate for Onslaught, then-but quite fortunate for me, conditions being what they were-that the sparkling was far too young to be employed full-time (even in a cesspool like Kaon).

“What are you doing back here so early, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be getting a job?” Vortex demanded.

“I...got job. Job starts tomorrow,” I explained quickly.

“Oh. Okay. See you later, Prissy. Stumpy and I have stuff to do,” Vortex exclaimed. He grabbed his younger brother by the hand and proceeded to pull him outside.

“You go to school?” I asked.

“School?” Vortex and “Stumpy” echoed, apparently perplexed, which in turn puzzled me. Surely a youngling and a prodigy knew what a school was.

“Learning place,” I explained. Vortex frowned.

“We know what school is, dummy. We just don’t know why you think we go to school,” Vortex replied.

“Schools cost money, and Onslaught can’t afford to send us,” the sparkling added. This shocked me. Apparently, my assumption that public education was available across the entirety of Cybertron was mistaken.

“Where going?” I asked.

“Out,” Vortex replied. Before I could ask any more questions, both the youngling and the sparkling scampered away and disappeared. After a few seconds of worry that Onslaught would be upset that I had not kept an optic on them, I quickly realized that, since Brawl and Onslaught both worked, and I hadn’t lived with them until very recently, they were accustomed to Vortex and Swindle taking care of themselves in spite of their youth...and in truth, they were both probably more street savvy than I could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, with their departure, I was left alone in the tiny, filthy hovel, with little to do except reflect on my thoroughly unpleasant situation. Starting the following day, I-a noblemech of Vos!-would be working 11 hours every day as a garbage transport, all so I could pay my former employee for the “privilege” of living in a hovel and sharing a recharging center with a loudly-snoring, filthy tank. How had I been reduced to this? Overwhelmed by the blatant unfairness of it all, I started to weep. Why me? After I finished wallowing in (very deserved) self-pity, I finally downloaded the schedule that I had been given at the transport station, which promptly created yet another cause for self-pity. Because the universe apparently has it out for me, the last stop on the schedule was Amabilia Manor, the estate of my sponsa (betrothed), Illusion of the Furtim Line. In other words, there was a very real chance that Illusion, whom I was still quite fond of, would see me working on her estate as a garbage shuttle ! What had I done to deserve that? A few hours of alternatively wallowing some more in self-pity, vaguely wondering if I was supposed to be responsible for cleaning the interior of the hovel, and trying to ignore my ever-lowering fuel levels later, Vortex and the little yellow sparkling returned with a handful of Shanix and one (very small) energon cube.

“How... you get that?” I asked.

“Stumpy. I dirty him up a little, set him in full view of passersby, have him make his sad face, and bam! Instant Shanix. Nobody can resist helping out a poor, starving orphan, after all. It’s great!” Vortex explained. Wonderful. I was living with a pair of miniature con artists.

“I hate it. Why don’t you ever have to be the orphan?” the tiny sparkling said.

“Because I’m a warbuild, and thus, not small or cute enough to get sympathy. For some reason, you were the only one of us our creator didn’t design as a warbuild, so you have to do the cutesy stuff. Besides, you’re a better actor than I am,” Vortex replied.

“But I have to do all the work!”

“No, you don’t! When your cute face doesn’t bring in enough Shanix, I make up the difference by raiding their subspace containers while they’re distracted. How do you think we got the energon cube today, magic?” Vortex replied. Oh, terrific. One of them was a thief as well. However, much to my surprise, rather than keeping the Shanix for themselves, the pair instead deposited it in a container located under Onslaught’s recharger. The box was largely empty and lined only with a thin layer of Shanix, which puzzled me. Even considering the fact that neither Onslaught nor Brawl was likely to have a particularly well-paying job, it seemed like they should have more Shanix than that. With two grown mechs (soon, I reflected sadly, to be three) working full-time, why were their savings so limited, and why did they have to ration energon so strictly? The answer to that question arrived a few minutes later, when a large red-and-white mech stormed into the hovel, prompting shrieks of fear from Vortex and the sparkling, who both  promptly ran to hide behind me.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“An Enforcer. Do whatever he says,” Vortex explained, clearly ill at ease. Given how confident he had been previously, this was rather alarming.

“All right, Empties. Pay up!” the Enforcer exclaimed aggressively. In response, Vortex ran over to the Shanix container, handed it to me, and instructed me to hand it to the Enforcer, which I did. The sparkling started crying into my leg, and for the first time, I actually felt a pang of sympathy for the two of them. If I was terrified, it had to be even worse for a youngling and a sparkling. The Enforcer emptied the container into what appeared to be his personal subspace compartment and then scowled.

“Is that all the Shanix you have?” he demanded. I looked at Vortex, who nodded. In response, the Enforcer proceeded to upend the hovel, apparently in search of any hidden Shanix, and totally destroying one of the chairs. My fuel pump felt like it was beating out of my chest, and my spark constricted in terror. After what seemed like an eternity, but, according to my chronometer, was actually only five minutes, he stopped tearing the hovel apart, now apparently having determined that Vortex had told the truth. Then he stomped over to me.

“Tell Onslaught that if he doesn’t have at least fifty shanix waiting for me next time, I’ll take your two youngest brothers as payment instead. There’s a titanium mine that would pay hundreds of shanix for a couple of slaves who are small enough to fit in those hard-to-reach crevices,” he said threateningly. With that, he grabbed the energon cube, downed it in one gulp, dropped it back onto the floor, and stormed out of the hovel. As soon as he was gone, I found myself awkwardly attempting to comfort a sobbing sparkling while also trying to work out what, exactly, had just happened. After a few seconds, I gave up and decided to just ask Vortex.

“What happened?”

“I told you that guy was an enforcer, right? Well, all of the Enforcers work for Lord Straxus and make sure he gets to stay the boss. Because of that, they can do whatever they want-short of trying to overthrow him, that is-and almost all of them eventually set up this thingy they call a “patrol fee”, which is a fancy way of saying that they can come into your home and take as much of your Shanix as they like, and you can’t do anything to stop them...unless you wanna get thrown in prison. And if you can’t meet the fee they want for whatever reason, they’ll throw you into debtor’s prison or sell you into slavery,” Vortex explained. This, as one might imagine, was less than comforting news. While it certainly explained the desperate poverty of Onslaught’s unit, the revelation that most of my earnings wouldn’t benefit me even remotely was even more disgusting and unpleasant than the fact that I was expected to work as garbage transport in order to earn them in the first place. Once the sparkling finally stopped sobbing, I reorganized the hovel to the best of my (very limited) ability, as Vortex watched with very irritating amusement. I was trying my best! It was not as though I had ever personally had to reorganize a room before! As soon as he was convinced that his home was (more or less) back in order, Vortex started heading for the exit again, dragging his younger brother behind him.

“No! I’m n-not going out again! The Enforcer might still be around, and if he catches us begging, he might put us in jail!” the sparkling said, clearly terrified. His huge optics somehow seemed even wider than usual. Vortex laughed.

“C’mon, Stumpy. They’ve never caught us before,” he said, remarkably boldly, I thought, for a youngling who had been hiding behind my leg, in apparent fear of an Enforcer, not thirty minutes before.

“‘“M not going. Enforcers are scary,” the sparkling replied, suddenly sounding a lot more like what I had expected a sparkling still in his first frame to sound than a business mech.

“Only if they’re close enough to hurt you. If they don’t know where we are or what we’re doing- which they won’t-they’re no threat,” Vortex replied. In response, the sparkling latched onto my leg again, much to my mild disgust. Although I pitied the pair, I had no desire for them to be putting their filthy hands on me on a regular basis.

“You can’t make me. The Enforcer is too close! And if you do, I’m gonna tell Onslaught,” the sparkling said. Vortex scowled.

“Fine! Stupid sparkling,” he exclaimed. With that, he pouted and sat down on his recharging center. It was at this point that I realized that I had not yet learned the sparkling’s name (or, for that matter, how old he was). Onslaught had told it to me the previous night, but I had subsequently totally forgotten it.

“Name? How old?” I asked the sparkling.

“Swindle. I’m five stellar cycles old,” he replied. “Swindle” seemed like an odd name for a sparkling, but then again, “Onslaught” and “Brawl” weren’t exactly names that I would have imagined a creator giving to their creations either. Perhaps it had something to do with what their creators were like. Since three out of the four brothers were war-builds, it seemed likely that at least one, if not both, of them were also war-builds, amongst whom such names might be common. My curiosity having been aroused, I decided to continue questioning the sparkling to see if I could obtain any further information about Onslaught’s unit.

“Creators?” I asked. Much to my surprise, it was Vortex who answered. I had assumed that he was too street-savvy to trust me with such information, but evidently I had either overestimated him, or he did not think that the information was important.

“Our male creator was named Dragline and our female creator was named Highwall. They were miners and they died in a cave-in two solar cycles after Stumpy was brought online. He doesn’t remember them at all, and I was only three stellar cycles old, so I only remember little bits and pieces. Brawl was eleven stellar cycles when the cave-in happened, and Onslaught was thirteen, so they remember more,” he explained.

“Other members of house?” I asked.

“Well, there was Dragline’s brother, Onslaught. He was a soldier, but he was offlined in battle a long time ago, I think before Brawl came online. Our Onslaught’s named after him,” Vortex replied. Stunned, I started performing some mental calculations. If Onslaught the elder was the only member of their house besides their creators, and he and their creators had all gone offline by the time Onslaught had reached the age of thirteen stellar cycles, that meant two things. First, Onslaught had been raising his three younger brothers, alone, since he was thirteen, and second, if he had been thirteen when Swindle had just come online, and Swindle was five stellar cycles old now, that meant that he was currently only eighteen stellar cycles old, barely any older than me. I had thought he was at least thirty-five stellar cycles!

“I see,” I replied at last. The next several hours passed largely uneventfully (especially in comparison to the shocks that the morning had provided), and, around 7:00 in the evening, Brawl returned to the hovel. (His approach was so loud that I heard him coming several minutes before he actually arrived.) Upon his arrival, he immediately collapsed into one of the chairs, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Hey, Brawl, how was work?” Vortex asked.

“Long. Did Prissy get a job?” Brawl replied.

“Yep. He starts work tomorrow,” Vortex said.

“You stay out of trouble, Tiny?” Brawl asked. Vortex smirked.

“Of course, bro. Stumpy and I would never do anything that would get us in trouble.” Brawl snorted. Clearly, he knew better than to believe his brothers.

“And what really happened?”

 “We got ten Shanix and an energon cube from our usual methods, but then the Enforcer broke in and took all of it, so now we’ve got nothin’ again. I hope you picked up some extra shanix today, ‘cause if not, none of us are gonna get to refuel, and I’m hungry,” Vortex explained.

‘Lousy no-good Enforcers. Ain’t like we got any Shanix worth stealin’,” Brawl muttered.

“How much Shanix did you earn, Brawl? I’m hungry too,” Swindle asked. In response, Brawl actually gave what passed for a smile; which was much more terrifying than his scowls.

“10, plus 6 extra I spent on energon,” he said. Vortex and Swindle cheered, and even I felt a sense of relief. Admittedly, it was disgraceful that I- a noblemech!-felt relief at the prospect of something so basic as being able to consume fuel, but it was still better than dying of fuel deprivation. Vortex started pawing at his older brother, likely in search of the energon.

“None of that, tiny. Nobody’s refuelin’ till Onslaught gets back,” Brawl said. Vortex pouted, but didn’t argue, instead choosing to kick me in the shin to relieve his frustration.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed. Vortex giggled, and I glared at him. Why had I felt sympathy for the filthy little youngling, again? I elected to ignore him and turned my attention to Brawl instead.

“Where...work?” I asked.

“Construction. Ain’t many jobs for a stupid tank like me, but I can lift stuff pretty good. So long as I can do that, my boss don’t care that I’m not so bright and don’t have no ed-you-cay-shun,” Brawl replied tersely. (I am not exaggerating his pronunciation of the word “education”, by the way. That’s exactly the way that he said the word.)

“No...school?” I asked.

“Not really. Our creators worked real hard to make sure that they could send Onslaught and me, but I only went for a stellar cycle. Teachers said I was too stupid to learn anything, and so my creators took me out ‘cause it was too expensive to spend Shanix on school for me if I wasn’t gonna be learnin’ nothin’. My female creator tried to teach me some after that, but she was always real busy, so I never did learn much before our creators died. Onslaught’s real ed-you-cated, though. His teachers said he was the brightest student in his level, and he always made real high scores. Our creators were so proud of him. He was ‘posed to be our ticket outta bein’ poor, seein’ as he was so smart and all. His teachers even said he could probably get a scholarship to Kaon’s Military Academy, but a stellar cycle before that could happen, our creators were killed, and he had to drop out to provide for Vortex and Swindle and me. Don’t bring that up around him, though. Makes him mad,” Brawl explained. I had a feeling that this was the longest that I would hear Brawl speak for a very long time. He didn’t seem particularly chatty by nature. The fact that he didn’t say another word until Onslaught arrived at the hovel about an hour later, even as his younger brothers chatted nonstop around him about a variety of inane topics, proved my suspicion correct. Upon Onslaught’s arrival, he took one look at the room and then glared at me.

“What happened here?” he demanded.

“I...sorry, sir! Not...clean...before,” I apologized. Onslaught didn’t look appeased.

“It wasn’t really Prissy’s fault, Onslaught. An enforcer showed up and tore the place apart looking for Shanix other than the ones in our container. Prissy was just too stupid to know how to put things back right,” Vortex said. Normally, I would have glared at him, but I was too relieved that he was defending me to really care whether or not he was calling me an idiot (which, for the record, I am most certainly not.)

“An enforcer? Are you two all right?” Onslaught asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine, but the Enforcer said that if we didn’t have at least fifty shanix when he came next time, he’d take me and Stumpy as payment instead,” Vortex replied. In response, Onslaught sat down on his recharging center (remember, there wasn’t-and, sadly, isn’t- that much room in the filthy hovel) and buried his faceplates in his hands, clearly quite upset.

“He said WHAT?” Brawl exclaimed as he jumped out of his seat, so loudly that I am surprised my audio receptors weren’t burnt out. Vortex repeated his explanation, and Brawl collapsed back into his chair, his anger evidently spent. Onslaught, for his part, turned to me.

“Did you get the job?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying not to think about how horrible the job was.

“Good,” Onslaught said, sounding utterly exhausted. Then the little sparkling walked over to him, huge optics filled with worry.

“If we don’t give him enough Shanix to pay his “patrol fee”, the Enforcer’s gonna take us away! You won’t let that happen, will you, Onslaught? I don’t wanna be taken away by an Enforcer. They scare me,” Swindle asked.

“I most certainly will not allow that to happen, even if it means working even more shifts than I currently do. Nothing is going to pull this unit apart,” Onslaught replied firmly. At this, Swindle seemed to relax. I, on the other hand, still felt nervous. No matter how hard Brawl, Onslaught, and- *sigh* -I worked, I did not see how it was possible for us to be able to purchase energon and consistently maintain at least fifty shanix for the enforcer on our meager salaries.

“Now can we refuel? I’m hungry,” Vortex asked.

“Yes,” Onslaught replied. With that, he, Vortex, and Swindle joined Brawl at the table (which was, like the rest of the furniture, rather worse for wear), and Brawl retrieved four energon cubes from his storage compartment. One was split between Swindle and Vortex, one was taken by Onslaught, and one was taken by Brawl. Assuming that the last one was mine, I reached for it...only to have my hand slapped by Onslaught.

“You are the hired help, remember? You fuel after we are finished,” he snapped. My circuits heated up with embarrassment, but I retreated back to “my” recharging center and sat down on it to wait anyway. While it was humiliating for me-a noblemech!-to be treated like a servant by my own ex-employee-a desperately poor pauper, no less-I could not afford to raise a fuss. Luckily, Onslaught’s unit refueled remarkably quickly, so I was able to refuel myself less than thirty minutes later….only to immediately gag. The taste was disgusting!

“Energon...bad,” I choked out. Onslaught gave out a harsh laugh.

“I would advise you to get used to it. It may not taste like the delicacies you’re used to, but it’ll keep you alive, and it’s all we can afford,” he said sharply. Although I hated to admit it, he made a good point, and so I forced myself to consume the fuel despite its taste. After all, for all I knew, it might be solar cycles before I could refuel again. Not long after I finished, Onslaught sent Swindle and Vortex to recharge. Both complained extensively, but eventually gave in, and were in recharge in only a few minutes. This being accomplished, Onslaught collapsed onto his own recharging center and was immediately offline to the world, and Brawl followed suit. Clearly, both of them had been absolutely exhausted, and that did not bode well for the career that I would be starting the next day. It was only 8:45 in the evening! Was I going to be that exhausted from work every solar cycle for the rest of my life? However, I still joined Brawl on the recharging center a few minutes later. If I was going to have to wake myself up at 4:30 in the morning, I needed as much rest as I could get. I set an internal alarm to ensure that I wouldn’t oversleep and anger Onslaught again, and tried to ignore Brawl’s loud snoring. I fell into recharge after what felt like an hour (but likely wasn’t). Luckily, the alarm worked, and I was woken promptly at 4:30, then left Onslaught’s hovel to head to my first solar cycle on the job (shudder). I arrived at the transport station at 5:10, and sat around awkwardly for twenty minutes, then departed for the first stop on my schedule. (I definitely did not want to have my pay docked for showing up late, so I felt that it was wise to depart early.) I arrived at the first of the manors of the Towers District at 5:50 and sat around awkwardly once again. At about 5:56, a mech whom I assumed was one of the manor’s servants arrived with a garbage container. I winced, tried not to think about what I had been reduced to, and then opened the door to my cargo bay. The servant then deposited the garbage into my interior, and I shuddered. It was so unfair! I hadn’t been built for work like this! Once he finished emptying the container (into my interior!), he pulled out a few Shanix.

“Hey, you! Transform so I can give you your tip,” he said. I complied with an intense feeling of humiliation. Why me?

“T-thank you,” I stammered, hoping my mortification wasn’t too obvious. The servant handed me the Shanix, and I put it into my subspace compartment. (Shuttles actually have two, one which stores the cargo they can carry in alternate mode, and one which is for personal use.)

“No problem. My boss really appreciates your streamlined design, so he decided to reward it. He says it’s much more “aesthetically pleasing” than the other shuttles he sees,” the servant replied. I nodded, reverted to my shuttle mode, and then took off for my next stop. For the next eleven stops, nothing particularly interesting happened, though my beautiful plating quickly became covered in filth and grime. I did receive tips at all eleven of these stops, evidently because of the sleekness of my alternate mode. I had no idea if this would be a regular occurrence or not, but I wasn’t about to complain about it. The more Shanix I made, the more reason Onslaught would have to keep me around. While it was still humiliating to be tipped like a servant, it was preferable to the alternatives, so I planned to keep my mouth firmly shut on the matter. However, the thirteenth and last stop was not so uneventful (sadly). The flight between the twelfth stop and the manor of Illusion was shorter than the flights between most of the other estates, which meant that I arrived early. Although one of the servants was ready with the garbage (and my tip) when I got there, this meant that I had a full hour before I was expected to deposit the garbage at the dump. As such, I found myself standing around awkwardly on the grounds of the estate, listening to the servant talk about various things.

“Sure, they’re a bit stuck-up, but they’re not that bad, all things considered. And in speaking of not bad, the Lord’s daughter is a beaut...and whaddaya know, she’s come out on the grounds with some of her friends now. Aren’t they lovely? Of course, they’re way out of our league, but a mech can dream,” he said. My circuits heated up in humiliation. I had been betrothed to Illusion less than five solar cycles ago, and now she was “out of my league”?

“Yes,” I said quietly. He grinned.

“Well, I gotta run. Have fun watching the lifestyles of the rich and famous,” he said. With that, he left me and went back inside the manor, and I turned my attention to the conversation Illusion was having with her friends.

“Is your betrothal off then, Illusion?” one of the friends asked (I believe her name is Argenti.) Illusion sighed.

“I don’t know. Blast Off hasn’t so much as called me in three solar cycles, and the King of Vos says he hasn’t seen him for awhile, That doesn’t seem like him,” she replied. I sighed. It was official. The Universe hated me.

“Well, if this is his way of calling off your engagement, then I’d say you dodged a laser blast,” Aurum, another of her friends said.

“No kidding. If he doesn’t appreciate someone like you, he’s crazy,” Argenti added.

“But I know him, Argenti. He’s a bit arrogant, but he’s not inconsiderate of me. He likes me! He would never just fail to call me for three solar cycles. Something must be wrong,” Illusion replied. As you might imagine, I was more than a little relieved that Illusion, at least, didn’t think that I was some sort of irresponsible cad.

“I’ll say something’s wrong. Your conjunx-to-be is a creep,” Aurum said. Suddenly, a blue-and-white mech appeared out of nowhere, prompting shrieks from the females. I recognized him as Mirage, Illusion’s cousin. I had met him once or twice at dinner parties.

“Mirage! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Illusion exclaimed. Mirage laughed .

“Is that any way to talk to your favorite cousin?” he asked.

“Mirage, you’re my only cousin,” she replied.

“Technicalities. And I have to say, I agree with Aurum. If Blast Off doesn’t appreciate how beautiful you are, he doesn’t deserve you,” Mirage said.

“Me? Beautiful? That’s why suitors have been beating down my door, I suppose,” Illusion replied dryly.

“They don’t know you’re available again yet, cousin dear,” Mirage said.

“And they won’t be the only ones chasing you. I think that garbage mech is sweet on you, Illusion! He hasn’t taken his optics off of you since Tersus left,” Argenti exclaimed.

“And no wonder! You’re probably the first clean, beautiful thing he’s seen in a stellar cycle,” Aurum added. She, Argenti, and Mirage laughed.

“He would certainly make for an interesting story, at least...and you could use the smell to scare off all the other suitors!” Argenti said. This conversation, as you might imagine, was mortifying, and I decided to make myself scarce. I headed for the edge of the estate, hoping that I would no longer be able to overhear the conversation. Much to my surprise, however, Illusion actually followed me to the edge of the estate.

“I’m so sorry for what my friends said about you. You weren’t causing any harm, and….Blast Off?” she exclaimed. Apparently, being covered in grime and wearing hideous brown paint was not sufficient to prevent my sponsalia from recognizing me.

“ Ita ,” (Yes.) I replied quietly.

“ Quid tibi accessit? Ubi eras?’ (What happened to you? Where have you been?)

“ Me expulso rege fictis maiestatis criminibus. Et comprehenderunt omnia mia. Ego autem in Kaon cum pristini ... servum suum servo suo ut nihil minus. Qui autem pauperrimus, et sicut tale, et iussit ut reperio a officium ad terminos occursum. Est nimis ignominia.” (The king banished me on false charges of treason. He seized everything I own. Now I am living in Kaon with my former servant…as his servant, no less. He is very poor, and as such, he ordered me to find a job to make ends meet. It’s very humiliating.) I explained.

“ O, non! Quod sonos terribilis! Quid facere possum?” (Oh, no! That sounds terrible! What can I do?)

“ Proelio nostros dicere videmur. Non possum non enutriet, et non aliquid incorruptelam possidebit.” (I think we should call off our engagement. I can no longer support you, and you will not inherit anything,) I replied. Because Illusion had an elder sister, Apparition, she would inherit very little from her creators. As the younger child, her fortunes were dependent on picking a suitable Conjunx Endura. I, sadly, no longer fit the criteria.

“ Non curo illud! Te amo,” (I don’t care about that! I love you.) she exclaimed

“ Ego autem en uno-locus, magno cum quattuor aliss. Opus mihi quotidie horas undecim. Ibi sus ‘nunquam satis cibum. Illic est non satis manducare. Non possum facere vobis.” (I am living in a one-room hovel with four other mechs. I have to work eleven hours every solar cycle. There’s never enough energon. If you become my conjunx endura, you’ll have to slave away just to stay alive, too. I can’t do that to you.) I said. As horrible as it felt to call off my engagement, I couldn’t drag Illusion into the desperate poverty that I had somehow found myself in. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and living with a Conjunx Endura that I was unable to support would have been unbearably humiliating. Illusion frowned, but then nodded, apparently having realized the full costs of becoming my Conjunx Endura.

“ Saltem accipe pecuniam,” (At least let me give you some money) she said. Then she handed me a pile worth about 500 Shanix. Part of me wanted to reject it, but knowledge of my dire situation won out.

“ Optime. Gratias tibi,” (Very well. Thank you.) I replied.

“ Gratias. Bona fortuna,” (You’re welcome. Good luck.) she said. I deposited the Shanix in my subspace compartment, bid Illusion farwell, and then transformed into my alternate mode and departed from her estate. I dropped off the garbage at the dump, flew back to the transport station, where I received my (pitiful) wages, and then returned to Onslaught’s slum. Swindle and Vortex were waiting there for me.

“How many Shanix did you earn?” Swindle asked.

“Twelve. Thirteen...tips. 500...female,” I replied.

“500? We’re rich!” Vortex exclaimed. I deposited the Shanix in the container, as Swindle and Vortex enthusiastically speculated about what they would do with it all. About an hour later, Brawl returned home, deposited his earnings in the same container....and then stared at his younger brothers and me in shock.

“Where’d we get so much Shanix?” he asked loudly.

“Apparently, a girl gave Prissy a bunch of Shanix for some reason, and now we’re rich!” Vortex replied.

“That true?” Brawl asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

‘Huh. Maybe you ain’t as bad as I thought, Prissy,’ Brawl said. Coming from him, this was high praise indeed. Onslaught, upon his return to the hovel, was just as surprised.

“How did you manage to get this much Shanix?” he asked.

“Can’t explain...Neocybex. Don’t speak well,” I replied. Onslaught shrugged.

“I suppose that it doesn’t matter where we got it so long as we have it,” he said. That was all he said on the matter, and for most of the evening he treated me with the same hostility of the previous two nights. However, after his brothers had entered recharge, he walked over to me and actually gave me a look of what seemed to be respect.

“You’ve worked all day without a single complaint, and you managed to bring more than 500 shanix to my home with you...more than enough to keep Swindle and Vortex safe from the Enforcers the next time they come by. For that, I suppose I should thank you. I still don’t like you, but you’ve proven that you can earn your keep. You’re still our servant, but you’re now a member of the unit, which means that I’m not kicking you out. You do good work,” he said. With that, he went to his own recharging center and was quickly dead to the world, leaving me to my thoughts. As much as I hated the life I was now stuck in, at least I was no longer utterly hated by the mech whom I depended on for shelter. That, at least, was a positive development, and it is one that has stuck. The past six lunar cycles have been dreadfully humiliating, but at least there is one glimmer of hope. If I could win over Onslaught and his unit, then maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that all of us might be able to escape the festering wound that is Kaon.

[prince-toffee]

Transformers: War For Cybertron - Siege -

Episode two!

Spoilers

Not a lot happened really. I expected more cause there’s only six episodes. Don’t get me wrong I much prefer when a series takes it’s time and slows down, but again, only six. So let’s get into it.

-I like Ultra-Magnus. The fact that he can just throw a Seeker around is fun. He’s uncertain and doubtful. He’s not a true believer in the Autobot cause. Starscream mentioned something about Surrender stations, and Megs talked about a treaty... non of that here. Magnus just waltzes in.

-He and Megatron fought together? Against who? Or do they mean Megs saved Magnus from his Decepticon forces. I get how that might sway his opinion into considering the Decepticons’ treaty. But the show frames it very one sided. For a second Megs is like, I need to think about if I wan to torture and reformate the Autobots, and then the next second he’s like yeah do it, why not. I wish they drew it out a bit more, but hey.

-I LOVE THE PAINTINGS IN MEGATRON’S PALACE. He’s such an arrogant douchebag. I love it. I want that framed on my wall.

-Was the All-Spark created by Alpha Trion, or was it his research that provided of its existence, it didn’t quite get that, because I was focusing on Shockwaves terrible voice.

-Don’t like Soundwave’s voice either. It’s just bad.

-Love the designs of the two tho.

-Shockwave made the data-pads he uses to interact/respond to his cannon arm. I just thought it was funny seeing him tap the screen.

-RAVAGE!!!!! Aww, he’s a good boy. He wants some pets, and total annihilation of the Autobots, but also pets.

-I continue to like Red Alert. Tho a weird thing I noticed in one of his dialogue parts. Sideswipe softly asks if Cog is gonna be alright, you know gently and with worry, and Red Alert’s voice’s volume and intensity doesn’t match the scene, cause he just stands still but yets, get him the thingymagig!

-Energon is pink like in the G1 cartoon, or at least purified kind, but like what’s the difference?

-Bee is great. Appears for three seconds, but he’s the kind of jerk I like.

-Optimus and Elita have a couple’s argument. Cool I guess. I don’t ship them. I don’t feel anything between them yet.

-Shut up Barricade. I hope you die. Like your colour scheme tho.

-Starscream trying not to look like a coward infront of Megatron to appeal to him, I see you Starscream.

-Cog has a hole in his chest. First I thought they shot the energon cube, and it exploded into him, but no.

-IMPACTOR!!!!!!!

[jarna-kat]

Medbay (Pt. 2 of Bittersweet)

Pt. 1 here

Her optics rebooted, code scrolling by as she came into the world again. Looking around, (Y/N) remembered where she was and why she was there. She felt sadness for everything that happened and cursed herself, knowing that her squad died because of her not being prepared.

A Decepticon nurse stood next to her berth, observing her sparkrate and energon levels making sure that everything was stable. The nurse turned to her and was shocked that the femme was already awake. "Oh primus you're online." the mech said as he panically started looking for medical grade energon to give her.

Once the nurse found it he handed her a cube. "Here, drink this." He said.

The nurse handed her the cube and (Y/N) grabbed it with a groan and downed the energon, making a face of disgust, medgrade was not meant to taste good. She could feel the energon pump through her veins and immediately felt her frame relax a small bit.

"You had taken quite a bit of damage." The nurse said while taking the empty cube away from her. "What's your designation?"

"(Y/N)." She said blatantly. Her voice was raspy, almost more electronic, and it startled her a bit. "Why is my voice strange?"

"It's normal, your systems aren't fully repaired. Usually it'll take a few mega-cycles to go away." The nurse continued. "Alright (Y/N), I'm gonna go ahead and let the doctor know you're back online and he will come have a look at you before you can be sent off."

And with that the mech walked away, leaving (Y/N) by herself. She looked around her surroundings and realized there was not much privacy here. The only thing that blocked her from the next bot down was a thin curtain. The sounds in the building were awful too, femmes and mechs moaning in pain, there were even distant screams. War was nothing pretty.

(Y/N) shut her optics while she waited for the doctor to arrive, which she hoped would be soon so she could leave this wretched place. She could feel her systems start to power down when she heard a fairly loud voice not too far down.

"Hook!" The mech shouted. "Status report."

"Well Starscream, as you can see, it's not great." Hook said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Starscream. (Y/N) knew she had heard that voice before. He was second in command of the Decepticons, side by side with Megatron. He was notorious for many things and most of them were not good.

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Hook."

Hook groaned. "I don't have exact numbers Starscream, all I can tell you is that there is a large number of bots here and I don't have time to get exact numbers. Now if you'll excuse me I have Decepticon's that need repairing."

(Y/N) heard Hook's peds come closer and closer until he appeared around the curtain. "(Y/N) is it?" He asked her as he went up to the monitor next to her berth. "You were a piece of work I might say. My name is Hook and I'm just gonna run a few tests to make sure you're fit to leave." Hook scrolled through his datapad until he set it down and started his examination by grabbing a small light from his pile of tools.

"I'm just gonna shine this in your optics real quick so go ahead and keep them wide open for me." (Y/N) did exactly that The light was bright and caused her to blink harshly. "Optics sensitive but work nonetheless." He said as he typed more on the pad. "Okay, I'm just going to test your audials real quick, let me know if you can hear these sounds."

Hook pressed play and waited for the femmes reaction. (Y/N) nodded as her answer. The doctor continued to play many different sounds and frequencies, inputting which ones the femme could hear and which ones she couldn't. "Alright, let's go ahead and move to the wings." (Y/N) winced when Hook slightly moved her wings. "How did that feel?" He asked her, grabbing the datapad and ready to input her answer.

She looked up at him. "It hurt like a glitch." She growled.

Hook typed something less profound into the pad before looked back to her and said "Go ahead and stand up for me." (Y/N) started getting up. Her frame was so sore and heavy, she felt so stiff like she had begun to rust. Her joints still creaked with every movement and she made a face of pain as she finally stood tall and as straight as she possibly could in her condition. Hook typed something else in his datapad before saying "Okay, can you move your wings on your own?"

(Y/N) tried to do what Hook had asked her to do, but cried out in pain as she gripped the small table next to the medical berth for support. She shook her helm as fluid started to flood her optics. "No..." she said shakily.

Hook sighed. "Well, I'm afraid to tell you that I can't let you go if you can't move your wings, you can't even transform right now. In fact, I might have to send you to therapy."

"Absolutely not!" Both (Y/N) and Hook turned to where the voice came from. Starscream stood with his arms crossed and trudged over to where she stood. "You and I both know that those fragging idiots know nothing about seekers!"

He was tall and slim, wings high up on his backstruts. (Y/N) looked over his lithe frame and freshly buffed paint and realized how beautiful he was. She had heard bots who had seen him before in person describe how gorgeous he was but never did (Y/N) listen to them, she thought that those stories were over exaggerated by bot's that were just desperate from being abstinent for so long. Turns out they were right and she was wrong.

"Well Starscream," Hook hissed "those 'idiots' are all we have! They are the highest trained bots that we have for physical therapy. They know what they're doing."

"I'm sure they do know what they're doing, for grounders." Starscream observed (Y/N) up and down and turned back to Hook. "But none of them are seekers and are not specially trained in the field. For all I know they would probably work her wings too hard and ruin this femmes chances of ever flying again."

"Well this femme won't be able to fly again if she doesn't get help!" (Y/N) could tell that Hook was getting angry. "What would you suggest Starscream? Oh and by the way you can sit back down." That last part was directed to (Y/N).

There was no hesitation in the motion, (Y/N) was relieved to take the weight off her peds. The grim realization of the fact that there was a chance that she would never be able to fly again hit her. Flying was something a seeker needed to do, it was in their nature, like fueling and recharging. The thought of not being able to fly ever again was an overwhelming thought.

Starscream watched as (Y/N) sat on the berth, observing her clear discomfort. "I'll do it." Starscream said bluntly.

Hook stared at his commander for a nano-klik before shaking his helm and chuckled. "You're really funny Starscream," he started "you are really great at coming up with terrible ideas. For one, you don't have the time, you have an army to command. Two, I'm sure you're not particularly trained either. Three, knowing you, you don't have the patience."

Starscream growled. "One," he hissed, mocking Hook, "you don't know how much time I have and how much I don't have. Two, do you know how many times I've nursed my own wings back to health after-never mind that, point is I probably know more than your fools do. Three, I have a lot more patience than you think, Hook. Besides, I wasn't asking for your permission."

The seeker was now in the doctors face. (Y/N) didn't know why he was so intent on helping her, he was second in command for primus sake! Hook was right, Starscream had an army to command and was probably more busy than she could ever imagine.

Hook backed up in submission, clearly realizing that Starscream was not messing around. "I will leave it up to the patient." Hook said as he turned to (Y/N).

She looked up at the doctor in shock, not wanting to be in this position. Her choices were rough; on one servo she could go to 'professionals' to help her, but there was a chance they would do more harm than good. On the other servo she could go with Starscream, even though he was highly intimidating, but he was a seeker like herself and probably knew better than the latter.

(Y/N) turned her optics to the commander, who looked like he was getting impatient. "I...I think I'll go with you, commander Starscream." She said, making sure to be respectful.

Starscream smirked in triumph as Hook sighed. "Very well, then it's settled." Starscream said to her. "Hook, please pack this femme some medgrade to take with her, then have her transported to the command outpost within the next mega-cycle."

The command outpost. (Y/N) should've realized that that's where she'd be going. The command post was where all the most famous and highest ranking Decepticons stayed, including Megatron himself. (Y/N) was starting to regret her decision, she would much rather be around mechs that were her rank, but no, now she was going to be mechs that were double that.

Hook groaned. "Whatever you say, Starscream." he said in a sarcastic tone.

"What was that Hook?" Starscream replied, clearly annoyed and displeased by Hook's tone.

Hook realized that Starscream was not in the mood to be played with. (Y/N) could see the clear submission that Hook displayed when the seeker fanned his wings out in dominance. "Um, nothing. I will get on that right away commander." And with that Hook went to work.

Starscream huffed and turned to the femme sat on the berth. "I will see you soon." The seeker stomped out of the room with a much more irritated aura than he did when he walked in.

(Y/N) was now starting to rethink her decision, but it was too late to go back now. Now, the commander was expecting her, and if she weren't to show up he would most likely blame the doctor, and she didn't want him to be anymore angry at the poor mech than he already was. The sight that had unfolded before her just cycles ago scared her. Hook was not a small mech, and the fact that Starscream just had to look at him for Hook to submit was quite a sight.

As mentioned before, Starscream was a notorious mech who was known for being ruthless to anyone who displeased him. (Y/N) had heard many stories about him, a couple of her squadmates had met the seeker before and from what they had told her was not a pleasant experience. One had told her about a time where they saw Starscream tear a mech's arm off for calling him out on his unnecessary anger towards the troops.

Hook handed her a few cubes of medgrade to store in her subspace. "I really hope you realize what you've gotten yourself into." He said. "The command outpost is not a glorious place if that's what you were thinking, there are a lot of bad mechs that reside there."

(Y/N) stored the cubes and started thinking about her decision. To be completely honest she was scared, Hook was right she didn't think this through. Hook reached out his servo and helped her up off of the berth, then proceeding to lead her through the building. As they walked through the exit she saw the transport trailer, this one much different from the one she came in with.

A wave of panic reached her and her intakes started speeding up and she looked over to Hook. "What do I do?" She asked frantically.

"Just whatever you do," He said as he helped her up into the trailer "don't try to act tough, be submissive. The mechs at command could easily kill you. Be respectful and act small. As far as Starscream goes...just do as he says and do it without question, and never bring up Megatron to him."

(Y/N)'s frame was shaking, Hook's words did not encourage her. "Sir I don't think I wanna do this anymore! I-I'm fine with physical therapy I-I can't go to command!" She was hysterical now.

"I'm sorry but if I don't send you now, Starscream will think I disobeyed orders, I hope you understand that this was your decision. Good luck." And with that Hook stepped out and closed the hatch, leaving (Y/N) to her thoughts.

The trailer started moving and the real panic hit her. Deciding nothing else would help her at this point she pulled out two cubes of medgrade and chugged them down as fast as she could. It wasn't the way medgrade was supposed to be used but it worked as she could feel her frame go numb. Within the next couple cycles she felt herself go into recharge.

[transformerimagines]

Neutrality (Tfp Megatron X Reader X TFP Optimus)

Request from http://comicbookcrazy.tumblr.com/ who requested ‘ Could you do an imagine where there's a very talented warrior but she's a neutral and both Optimus and Megatron have fallen for her and want her on their sides? They kidnap her her (Megatron) or meet her in battle (Optimus) and offer her to be on their side. She used to know both of them before the ear and is indecisive of what she should do.’ Thank you for your request and I hope you like it, you might see some G1 faces and names in here because I just couldn’t help myself.

“Backup is needed. I repeat, backup need-.” The Vehicon had been shouting down his comlink rapidly until you approached him and aimed a perfect blow to the side of his helm, sending him harshly into a pile of rocks inside the cave which sent him into stasis. You looked up and wiggled you digits after disposing of the decepticons who were watching the energon mine you were currently standing in the middle of. You were tall, mechs had often said you were all legs and wingspan, but were built for battle and as a trained gladiator you wore a yellow line of paint that ran through your neutrally green optics. You had attacked the Con soldiers for one purpose only, to get energon for your survival, you wanted no part in the war and only cared about yourself, what the factions decided to do was up to them. As you were placing some energon shards inside your subspace, a swirling ground bridge appeared behind you. Stealthily, you ran behind the nearest column of shards possible to avoid any further confrontation and waited patiently for the sound of pedes on the solid ground. They came not two seconds later when you counted three sets of pedes exiting the ground bridge.

“How did this happen?” An unearthly screech sounded from where the ground bridge had opened, followed by the clicking of struts on the floor which was a decidedly Seeker trait. “Was it the autobots?” The Mech screamed again as he paraded around the open cave.

“L-lord Megatron.” A chocked voice sounded next to you, once you looked down you saw that it was a Vehicon you had previously dealt with. That name though sounded too familiar, and it was so close to a name you wouldn’t forget. This new thought is what made you brazenly kick the vehicon in the faceplate from your hidden position before stepping out with your helm held high. Out of the Mechs that had greeted you, only the tyrannical gladiator in the middle was the one you recognised. You were right in your guess that one of them was a Seeker, the other one only had one optic that was beaming in to you with curiosity.

“Megatron?” You asked in an amused tone as you fully came to a stop in front of them, stretching your magnificent wings out and fixing Megatron with a sarcastic glare. “Is that the name you go by now, Megatronus?” At the use of their Master’s original name, both of his subordinates looked to him with shock. Megatron however couldn’t look away from you, all of a sudden, images of the two of you fighting together in the days before the war surfaced. He remembered the melodic sound of your laughter when you would win against a weaker Mech, the feel of your wings pressed close to him as you recharged due to the small spaces you were forced in to because you were gladiators. When the war broke out, he had tried to find you but you had seemed to disappear from the face of Cybertron itself. He didn’t expect that this would be the next time he got to lay optics on the femme that had stolen his spark. “Wow, I’ve rendered you speechless, you used to be a fun conversational companion, Megatronus.” The statement was followed by a series of ‘tuts’ from you as you currently teased the Deception leader.

“You’re looking good, Y/N.” He told you as he dragged his optics over your frame, you couldn’t help the small smug smile that appeared on your faceplate which all but stunned the other Mechs in the room. You looked over Megatron with your own judging optics, seeing how he had changed his servo since the last time you had seen him but overall, nothing had changed.

“As do you,” You replied with a wink, causing a smirk to appear on the Titan’s dermas. You turned then, looking towards the entrance you had come through before looking back to the three who were with you in the cave. “Now if you’ll excuse me Mechs, I better be leaving.” You told them, preparing to switch to your alt mode before a shot sounded and the rock just above your helm exploded into pieces. You rolled your optics in annoyance, wings drooping slightly as you turned back around to see Megatron with his cannon raised and smoking from its last use.

“I haven’t seen you in Vorns,” Megatron was getting slightly annoyed at your intention to leave after such a brief reunion. “And yet, you try to leave me.” He took a few steps closer to you, attempting to make himself bigger than you, and while he will always be taller, your unusual wingspan would also prove to be daunting. You raised you wings up in the air and spread them out in a counter to his intimidation technique.

“I do. I don’t want any part of this war, Megatronus, and I refuse to pick a side,” You told him as you took a daring step closer yourself, raising a servo so you could poke your digit into his chest plate. “Do you know how many friends I have lost because they chose between the factions?” You asked him seriously, green optics lowered into a glare as he growled at you for laying a digit on him. “Drift, Blitzwing, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Blackarachnia. Do I need to go on?” You asked him, noticing how when you mentioned the Seekers you had befriended in another galaxy who got offlined by some Autobot extremists, the Seeker present raised his head to turn to you.

“You are coming with me, Y/N.” Megatron hissed at you as he grabbed your servo in his much larger one and pulled you to him till you were flush against him chest plate. His other servo reached out to grab your faceplate so that he could force you to look up at him. “Whether you want to or not.” His command rang through you, the harshness in his tone that was a result of the war shook you to the very core. Never did you think that someone who you cared for would speak to you like that. With a hiss, you shook your helm to remove his servo before you utilised your upgraded wings to send him away from you, you did have the power to send him flying into the walls of the cave but you only pushed him back a few feet.

“I am not going anywhere with you, Megatronus.” You told him as you took a defensive stance, you might have rethought his offer if he was nice about it but you could see how much he had changed and that scared the pit out of you. “I’m the second strongest Cybertronian to ever live, I can’t allow myself to be a weapon.”

“Shockwave,” The cyclops turned towards Megatron, “Starscream,” You recognised the name of the Seeker, he was the other member of Thundercracker and Skywarp’s trine and you had heard them mention his name fondly many times. They were trying to reunite with him when they were intercepted. “Ensure she comes back with us.” They both looked to you then, taking an offensive step forward before you heard the tell-tale sign of a Ground bridge opening from behind you. You raised one wing towards the swirling vortex, ready to dismiss any Con that came out of it but you were well and truly shocked when another ghost from you past exited instead.

“Orion!” You shouted to him in shock, not expecting to see the two mechs closest to you spark in the same day after Vorns of not seeing them. The Autobot leader saw you and was completely surprised to see you in this situation. They had picked up another Cybertronian signal but he could have never bet that it would be you that he saw. He had met you one day in the gladiatorial pits while conversing with Megatron, you had literally dropped in to his life as you powerful wings had carried you through the open roof and landed you between the two mechs. You had stunned him instantly with your infectious smile and teasing behaviour which made him come up with excuses to visit Megatron more often.

“Y/N what are you doing here?” He asked you as he made his way to you, ensuring the Autobots kept an eye on the Decepticons so that there were no surprise canon fires. He held your faceplate softly, unlike Megatron had and inspected you for any injury before his optics stared in to yours with interest.

“I was getting some energon when I ran into an old friend,” You told Optimus before looking over to the absolutely seething Decepticon who watched as Optimus ran his servos over your frame, the fires of jealousy burning inside of him. “Seems it’s become a habit today.” You turned back to Optimus with a small smile before placing a servo on the autobots cheek. “It’s good to see you, Orion Pax.” That seemed to send Megatron off the deep end as he shot another round at Optimus who quickly grabbed you and pulled away from the line of fire.

“Get the femme.” Megatron spoke the simple order before Starscream and Shockwave ran towards the other Autobots, who responded in kind by running at them. As the Autobots held the attacking forces back, Optimus turned to you with pleading optics which you tried, but couldn’t ignore.

“Come back to the Autobot base with me Y/N,” He started which had you immediately shaking your head. It seemed hilarious to you that after years of not joining a team, both were vying for your favour. “You will be safe and you could be a great asset to us.” He asked you once again, taking your servos in to his but all you could do was shake your head more.

“My dear Orion,” You spoke softly as you took your servos from him, sending him a small smile as you did. “I don’t want to be an asset to anyone,” You began. “I care for you and Megatronus deeply, I can’t side with one without betraying the other and I won’t do that to either of you.” That was the real reason why you were neutral, you could not imagine a world where you hurt either Mech, Primus, it hurt you just seeing them fight after all that they had been through. “Besides, I have people who depend on me and I need to get back to them,” You smiled at him cheekily then, “So if you don’t mind keeping your old friend at bay as I make my escape, I would be eternally grateful.” Optimus looked between you and the Gladiator who was quickly dealing with his troops, he wasn’t going to push you to choose between the two of them which is why, with sad optics, he nodded to you once before charging at Megatron.

You watched as they clashed with roars of battle, your mind quickly changing to a similar scene before the war when Megatronus was showing Orion some simple defensive moves, since the librarian didn’t want to be violent. You remembered the day vividly as one of laughter and jest, both Megatronus and Orion were anything but serious when it came to their training battles which would often have you doubling over in laughter when they would wrestle like sparklings. It was so bizarre to see them now, fully intent on hurting each other when the last memory you had of both of them was on that training day, rolling around in the rust as you found it hard to watch. With that daunting thought, you transformed in to your alt mode and jetted off into the atmosphere, trying to put the events of the day behind you.

-=-

You landed on an old abandoned industrial pier, your pedes hitting the floor as you entered one of the warehouses and removed the energon that you had collected from the day on a steel table. Not seconds after doing this did two sets of engines sound from outside as two Seekers entered the warehouse and walked up to you with identical smiles on their faceplate.

“Hey! Looks like you got a good score!” The purple tinged Seeker shouted happily as he reached for one of the energon shards with a servo before you hit him away with you wings.

“Did something happen?” The blue one asked as he saw the drained look on your faceplate, he was much more courteous than his trine mates.

“You will not believe what sort of day I’ve had, Warp,” You told Skywarp as you kept Thundercracker’s hands off of the limited supplies. “TC, I swear to Primus don’t test me.” You raised your voice at the other trine member who only then noticed your deflated personality.

“Primus, what happened?” TC asked you as he patted your arms in support.

“I ran in to Megatron and Optimus and the Decepticons and the Autobots,” You reeled your lists as you placed your helm in your servos in order to ease the aching instrument. “Starscream was there.” At the mention of their last trine member they both looked to you expectantly.

“Does he think we’re-.” Skywarp began before you butted in.

“Offlined?” You asked the rhetorical question before continuing. “Yeah because I didn’t know it was him at the time, you wanted the Con’s to think you had perished but if I had known he was there I wouldn’t have-.” You rattled on, only for both trine member to come forward and engulf you in their hold, granted they were shorter than you but you still appreciated the gesture.

“Don’t worry, it was an accident.” Skywarp tried to calm you down as you thought you failed them.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to get involved,” TC chimed in with a small grin, “Or at least as involved as we can get as neutrals.” He added once Skywarp sent him a look.

“No, I think you’re right,” You told them both, no longer feeling sorry for yourself but instead thinking back to your confident gladiator days. “We could make this war a little more interesting.” You smirked to them both, silently asking them if they would join you.

“We’re in.” Both trine members said at the same which caused you to grin at them before temptation started to brew inside of you. Time for you to re-enter the fray.

Should I do a sequel to this? Thoughts everyone.

[empressofthelibrary]

💬 💬 💬 :P

Gonna be long, sorry mobile users.  It’s all first-draft stuff, but it’s got a lot of promise.

From the first episode/chapter of my PreCure fanseries:

For context: Astra, the mouse-fairy, is distressed because the badguy essentially stole a person’s entire will to live.

The mouse shook her head.  “It is very bad!  I’ll explain later, just get up there and assess the damage!”

Lucy glanced up at the window.  “Uh, right, okay.”  Holding the mouse close to her chest, she turned and hopped up to the balcony.  She was adjusting fairly quickly to her new superpowers, thankfully, but not quick enough.  After hastily scrambling down from the roof, she knocked on the sliding glass door she was fairly sure lined up with the window she’d seen Somna hovering outside of.

No answer.

“Uh, sir?  Madam? …Nonbinary esteemed person?”

The mouse groaned.  “Just go in. No one’s gonna answer you.”

Lucy winced.  “But that’s breaking and entering!  Heroes don’t do crimes!  Besides, I’ve already made a bad enough first impression.”

The rodent rolled her eyes.  “We don’t have time for this!”  And with that, she leapt out of Lucy’s hand and leapt through the glass like it was water, complete with ripples fading out in her wake.

Lucy yelped.  “Tiny mouse-lady!”  After a moment of hesitation, Lucy yanked the door aside and hurried in after her.

From an original work I hope to be a book soon:

For context: two old friends are having to deal with some really dark and heavy stuff.  One tries to be silly to lighten the mood, and it backfires, more or less.

With as much ceremony as she could pack into the moment, Helena held the box in front of her, eyes closed.  "Sir Mar'kanth Elias Greenwood, The Ashblade, Lord of the Brightwood and knight of the Order of the Oak.  As blood-bound sister and once-champion of the late Queen Lyrianna Fireblade, and guardian of the true heir to the Silver Throne, I lay a task before you."

Mark stifled a grin.  "There's no need to be this dramatic."

Helena cracked an eye open.  "When am I not dramatic?"

"She has a point," Tim laughed, dodging his wife's playful elbow.

Helena cleared her throat and the scene resumed.  "As all of that stuff I just said, I lay a task before you. This amulet was given to me by Her Majesty Lyrianna Fireblade herself.  It has more protection and safety charms woven into the metal than I can count, and the stones hold part of her own power in reserve.  A dear friend of mine needs protection and safety on his journey to a new home.  I believe that, between your abilities as a spellsword and whatever boost this amulet can give to you, that he will reach his destination whole and healthy.  Now, I also ask that you keep this amulet safe until I am able to retrieve it myself, or send one of my agents to do the same.  Will you accept this task?"

Mark dropped to one knee and bent his head.  "I would be honored, Lady.  I swear, upon my honor as a brother of the Oak, as Lord of the Brightwood, and as a Knight of the Silver Court, to serve you as I did Her Majesty, and as I intend to one day serve Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Illyana."

There was a sharp crackle of energy in the air, and to those who had known magic, the world tasted green for a split second before returning to normal.  Helena's breath caught -- The formal oath of a fae was no small thing.  "You didn't have to do that."

Aaand from an old Transformers fic that has been discontinued.  A rewrite is planned, pending worldbuilding revisions:

For context: Optimus, as his pre-Matrix self Optronix, has “rescued” a young Starscream from what he assumed was certain death at the hands of a gang of angry dinobots.

I snatched the kid up, spun as soon as my feet hit metal, and started running for the street.  The mech I'd tackled, the smallest of the five, started to get up as I approached.  I jumped onto the disposal-bin, sprang towards the exit, and didn't stop running until I was three streets away.

"You okay kid," I managed after a moment, feeling the brawl and mad dash for safety in every inch of my frame as I set him down.

The young mech stared at me imperiously.  "My name is Starscream," he snapped, lifting his chin.  "You would do well to remember it."

I glared right back.  "Listen, twerp, I just saved your ungrateful shiny hide back there!"

He crossed his arms and turned away.  "I could've handled them myself.  I didn't need you."  After a moment, he looked back over his shoulder.  "Well, you did make yourself useful, at least."

"Happy to be of service," I said dryly.  "Now.  Where are your parents?"

"Not far," he replied, his tone no less annoying.  "I was actually on my way home when those cretins attacked me."  We stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again.  "You can go now.  I don't require further 'aid.'"

I just stood there and stared at him, my arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted.

"Ugh.  Fine.  It's this way."

We walked in silence, Starscream half a step ahead, towards the Science Quarter.  It was the opposite direction from my own apartment, but I could find my way home easily enough once I made sure the brat was safe.  The buildings around us were offices and labs, not residential, when he stopped at the external doors of one.

"Well, goodbye then," he said, without a trace of sentiment.

"Nope," I responded with a wry grin.  "Lead on, Starscream.  I'm making sure you find an adult and they know what happened."

Starscream groaned again, his shoulders sagging.  "I'm not a child, you brainless oaf.  I can walk up a flight of stairs without dying."

"Prove it."

Starscream's optics narrowed, flashing red in the streetlamps' glow.  Without a word, he straightened, spun on his heel, and slammed a hand onto the doorpad.  It slid open easily, and we walked inside.

True to his word, Starscream led me up three flights of stairs, down several winding corridors, and through a multitude of probably-locked doors before he stopped at one.

"This is my mother's lab," he said tersely.  "There, I am safe.  What an accomplishment.  Huzzah.  Now shoo."

"Sarcasm only rusts your processor," I said cheerily, raising a hand to knock on the door.

A massively-tall mech answered.  "Er, yes?  How may I--  Starscream!"  The mech's face split into a relieved smile as he knelt and hugged the much-shorter mech.  "Oh, thank Primus!  When you disappeared, we were so worried!"  He pulled away and took Starscream by the shoulders.  "Where have you been?!  Your mother is worried sick!  I was worried sick!   You can't just go running off like that!"

Starscream pushed away, angry.  "I'm almost as old as you are, Jetfire.  Don't treat me like a sparkling."

A femme appeared in the doorway behind Jetfire, fumbling with a pair of dark goggles over her optics.  "Starscream?  Is that you, dear?"  She was dressed in a scientist's work-robes, designed to protect her chassis from damage while working with dangerous chemicals or lasers or the like.  Freeing the workwear from her face, she saw me and her visor contorted in confusion.  "...Who are you?"

I stretched out a hand.  "My name's Optronix, ma'am.  I passed Starscream here on the street, helped him out of a tight spot.  After that, I felt like I needed to make sure he was safe, so I escorted him here.  I hope that's okay."

The femme's mouthplate shifted into a smile as she took my offered hand and shook it vigorously.  "That's wonderful!  Thank you so much!  I'm so glad my little 'Screamer is making friends."

"Mother, please."  Starscream's tone was as acidic as it was pleading.  "Goodbye," he snapped, glaring at me over his shoulder as he pushed his way inside, bringing the older scientists with him.  The door slid shut with a quiet hiss, clicking as it locked into place.

"...You're welcome," I sighed, staring at the sealed doorway.  With a shrug, I turned and started back the way we'd come.  It took a little while, thanks to the unfamiliar layout, but soon enough I was back on the street.

[starscreamwastaken]

give us some fluff, nuzzles maybe? mask kisses? star and jackie making do with whats there but still lovin' each other up.

Okay, so I’m not 100% sure how well this satisfies the request, but I hope it’s still satisfactory.

Wheeljack waked through the hallway of the Spire, datapad taking up all of his attention. He was on his way to the lab when something reached out and grabbed him. Before Wheeljack could react he found himself in a supply closet pressed up against a bright red Seeker.

“Starscream,” he greeted flatly, part of him having almost expected this. “I do have a comm.”

Starscream crossed his arms. “I’m aware,” he scowled.

“Is there a reason you’ve dragged me into a supply closet?”

“You haven’t come to give your report in three weeks.”

“And?”

“Which means I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

“...And?”

Starscream growled. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Me? Avoiding you? Now why would I do a thing like that?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. Mind filling me in?”

Wheeljack leaned in a little, placing his head beside Starscream’s, speaking right in his audio receptor. A small wisp of air followed by as soft click sounded beside Starscream’s head. Wheeljack’s voice came smooth and clear. “I got a surprise I’ve been workin’ out for ya.” he whispered. That little click sounded again as Wheeljack leaned back.

Starscream sat stunned for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. Wheeljack just smirked at him. Or Starscream assumed it was a smirk.

“See ya later tonight,” Wheeljack said smoothly, slipping out of the closet.

Starscream stuck his head out. “Don’t be late!” he yelled at the grounder’s back. “Tonight’s date night!”

Starscream suddenly noticed all of the other bots in the hallways. All of whom had stopped to stare at him. “What?” he snapped. “Don’t you all have work to be doing?”

Everyone quickly scurried along, lowering their heads slightly. Starscream stepped out of the closet and ruffled his plating before standing up straighter. “That’s what I thought,” he grumbled before stalking away.

Later that evening Wheeljack came by to gather Starscream for their date. To Starscream’s surprise the grounder looked a little cleaned up. He had bothered, for once, to clean the dust, oil and scorch marks from his frame. It even looked like he’d given himself a little polish.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Starscream commented, coming beside his partner so they could walk out together. “Special occasion?”

“We’re goin’ on a date, ain’t we?”

“Hmph,” Starscream stopped and leaned down a little to look Wheeljack in the eye, their noses nearly touched as Starscream eyed his partner suspiciously. He planted his fists on his hips. “You never seemed so inclined before. What’s so special about tonight?”

Wheeljack gently brushed past his partner. “I said I had a surprise for ya, didn’t I?”

Starscream stalked after him. “Is this the surprise?” he asked once caught up.

“Nope. Just wanted to look nice for it. Now quit bein’ such a sour puss, and be happy. It’s date night! Means ya get to spend time with me,” Wheeljack’s eyes smiled as he put his arms out. Certainly, Starscream’s significant other seemed a little more cocky than normal. Starscream would call it mere confidence but that would be too kind. He was sure if Wheeljack went out gambling right now he’d act like a winner before he even won anything.

Starscream wrapped an arm around Wheeljack’s shoulder. “Oh spending time with you,” he sighed. “I can’t think of anything better,” Starscream smirked, looking down at his partner. “So where are you taking me for date night?”

“I thought ‘a takin’ you to that new little energon ice joint that opened up down the street. You like sweet stuff right?”

Starscream let his arms drop, stifling a roll of the eyes. Eating overly processed energon mush that was artificially sweetened wasn’t his idea of a good date. Regardless he got to spend time with Wheeljack. And that was always worth it.

“Sounds delightful,” Starscream drawled. “Can we go to a real sweet shop afterwards?”

“Sure,” Wheeljack slipped his hand into his partner’s, interlacing their fingers. “We can do whatever ya want.”

Starscream squeezed the hand given to him and smiled down at his partner. He leaned in and planted a kiss on the side of his mask. When he leaned back he hummed. “Sometimes I wish I could really kiss you.”

Wheeljack nuzzled his partner. “What? My nuzzles ain’t good enough for ya?”

“Oh, their adequate I suppose.”

Wheeljack hummed. It vibrated against Starscream’s neck. The sensation tickled a little, forcing a giggle out of Starscream. “Quit it,” he demanded, lightly pushing the grounder away. Giggling was far too immature for the ruler of Cybertron.

Together they walked to the little energon shop. Sitting there made Starscream’s wings twitch. Date night had arisen after their relationship accidentally became public. It was supposed to be a nice change of pace. Every three weeks they’d go out so everyone could see Starscream was capable of keeping a stable relationship. People stared at them, on occasion Starscream was approached. Sometimes is was positive, other times it was negative.

Mostly they just got stared at.

Starscream and Wheeljack had decided to share a bowl. Starscream couldn’t decide on anything and Wheeljack could see he was slightly uncomfortable. The way his wings were hiked to attention. Every time he glanced around the room they would twitch. Starscream picked at the ice but didn’t eat much. Date night was their night to get out of the spire. Starscream, though, had become much less comfortable being in public through the years.

When they finished up Wheeljack hurried them out. The streets were almost always better. Somewhat fresh air. More open space. More room to run away.

Hand in hand they walked to the sweet shop on the corner. Starscream very quickly selected two boxes of energon goodies and went to the counter. Wheeljack offered to pay, as he often did, and Starscream refused, as he always did.

After that they walked back to Starscream’s apartment where they settled on the couch. Wheeljack sat upright while Starscream laid with his legs over Wheeljack’s lap, his head propped up by the arm of the couch. One of the boxes of treats sat in his lap while the other sat on the table. For a while they sat and watched a human film on the vid-screen.

Halfway through Starscream looked to his partner. “So what’s this big surprise you’ve got for me?” he asked before popping a treat in his mouth. Wheeljack looked down at him. He appeared to be thinking. Starscream waited patiently for Wheeljack to reply.

Wheeljack plucked a treat from the box and asked Starscream to sit up a little. Reluctantly Starscream complied. “What is this?” he asked, getting slightly impatient.

“You’ll see. Now here,” Wheeljack handed his mate the treat. “Put this between your teeth.”

Starscream, again, did as he was told. His patience was wearing thin, though. “Wha ah ou oing?” Starscream asked once the treat was securely between his teeth.

“Close your eyes.” Wheeljack instructed.

Before closing Starscream gave them a roll.

There was a soft click.

Starscream felt something warm and soft make contact with his lips, stealing half the treat from between his teeth. Starscream’s eyes popped open and he found himself locked in a kiss.

Wheeljack pulled away. A bit of purple had risen in his cheeks and he wore a goofy smile, one that looked quite cute on his new face.

Starscream sat there for a moment, wide eyed. “You got a face,” he said, unable to get any more words out.

Wheeljack sheepishly scratched one of his finials. “Yeah I- wanted to try it out. Probably not too great at kissin’ right now but I’ll get-”

He didn’t get to finish before Starscream grabbed him by the finials and pulled him into another kiss. Wheeljack’s lips moved with his partners. The box of treats toppled off Starscream’s lap as they moved together, but neither seemed to care. They were both a bit too preoccupied.

For a moment they separated. “You’re a horrible kisser,” Starscream commented.

“I know.”

Then they were back at it. After the second time separating they took a longer break. Starscream put a sharp digit on his partner’s lips. “I think you can assume what I’ll be wanting, Jackie, the next time we...go at it.”

Wheeljack hummed and dipped down to plant a peck or two on his partner’s jaw. “I’m looking forward to it,” he rumbled before settling in on top of his partner. Below him Starscream smiled.

This should be fun.

[phantompain-rp]

RP sample #2

(Fandom: Transformers)

- Me In the shadow of the column in the side of the so called street further on their way to the gates of the stadium, an inky violet mech with single arms and single cyclopic green optic in stead of a face followed the trine with unreleting gaze. The sort of which could be assumed as challenge down here among the slaves, but when that seemed to go unnoticed the mech did not waste time walking after Thundercracker. "I've seen you around", the mech said nonchalantly. "You vosians", he continued, making the target of his attention strikingly clear.

- Friend :) Following the now rather content looking leader of his Thundercracker did not miss the curiosity that stared at them. Those with only one optics were somewhat rare themselves, usually lower working class and few the seeker knew were from their rivaling town Tarn.. But raising attention or trying to pic up age old fights was not their purpose here, they were there to observe them so the blue flyer completely ignored the following gaze as if he had not evennoticed it. Ignoring became harder when the cyclops started to trail them and speak. The first phrase did not get any acknowledgment but the second part made Starscreams phase slow, not stop, but slow. With it Thundercracker too rephased himself before turning his helm just enough to create eyecontact. "What of it? Kaon is not exclusive to ground bound visitors." Now that he was watching the purple mech he noted how fixed his gaze was upon just him and he was not sure if he was happy about that or not. At least it meant Starscream was unlikely target of whatever this bot was after thought Thundercracker supposed it was possibly credits he was after.

- Me "Hah, so cold and awkward...", the purple mech said, oddly in voice that had no intent to taunt. Instead the likeness insult was spoken like simple fact. "It's not first time you are around here." He repeated, not allowing Thundercracker chase him by simply trying to vary the pace of his walking. "...And I was just wondering what three of such polished and cute bots are doing in bad place like this?" The one armed and one eyed mech shot glance at lord Starscream and Skywarp, who prance on owning his newly improvised bodyguard duty. "Well, two at least."

- Friend :) Insults.. if it was meant as one.. did not distract the blue wingman who kept his optics locked on what he saw of the other over his shoulder, seemingly uninterested. Thought his gaze became slightly sharper when he noted the others helm turning towards his comrades followed by compliments on their appearences. Compliments or measure how rich they were. "What does any high class member do in here? Go watch the fight.." he told truthfully, thinking it was useless to hide as they were already heading towards the arenas and if they were seen multiple times it likely meant the other was aware they visited the same place each time.. and knowing Starscream this was unlikely to be the last either. The last comment the other had made made him lift his  eyeridge lightly, uncertain what to make out of it and was it aimed at himself or Skywarp. Eitherway it was excluding one of them out of the earlier compliment. "I thought all seekers look the same to you." and by 'you' he of course meant everyone outside of Vos. At least that was rather common misperception.

- Me One could perhaps feel the impression of cocky smirk on the faceless mech's facet. The blue seeker's replies, no matter how indifferent they were, seemed to please him for the indication that he was getting under his skin. The trio was obviously wealthy, it was as if they had not even tried to mask it, but money did not interest the inky violet mech.  "Oh, simple motive. That suits you" he said, in slightly darker and lower voice. The comeback, that the seeker was now referring to their frames back at him, was joyous surprise to him, although probably for the wrong reasons if the seeker was asked. "To unobservant idiots maybe."

[verdigrisprowl]

Nov 30 Blurr’s Horror Stream - Sleight

Prowl showed up for the first time in ages, at Bonecrusher’s request, to show Buzzsaw the finished avatar that Bonecrusher was working on. Buzzsaw thinks it should be in a gallery, and is prepared to arrange it. Prowl isn’t going to admit that he’s proud of Bonecrusher, but he told everyone whose attention he attracted for more than three seconds that Bonecrusher is going to be in an art gallery.

Except Whirl. Prowl’s mad at Whirl. Whirl killed Imperius Drax.

The movie was good, not that Prowl would know, because he didn’t pay attention to it. Whirl did though. Whirl shouldn’t have.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. B l u r r: / yes he is here. Skids in on pedes / B l u r r: [[ brb! ]] B l u r r: [[ im back! ]] B l u r r: [[ y'all lemme know when you ready! ]] FakeProwl: ((CRO ARE U HERE i asked you a question on skype)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((YES sorry moment of distraction I AM HERE)) FakeProwl: ((o7)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((and generally ready)) B l u r r: [[ okie. ]] Bevel: ((also ready B l u r r: [[ i shall wait for everyone yes ]] Bevel: ((it is cold in my room but the heater makes horrible annoying noises so I am distracted B l u r r: [[ rude. ]] B l u r r: [[ of the heater, i mean ]] FakeProwl: ((I'm here and ready)) B l u r r: [[ okie. After this song, we start. ]] B l u r r: [[ >>;; cause i like this song ]] FakeProwl: *a Very Extremely Majorly Uncomfortable-Looking Nova Prime appears* FakeProwl: ((it's a Good song)) B l u r r: [[ its my favorite part ;A; ] Bevel: *bulky tank bot Bevel has arrived* B l u r r: / He is here and throwing himself on his couch / ItsyBitsySpyers: Soundwave trudges in looking a little bit dusty for once and... and seeing Bonecrusher, immediately moves to the opposite end of the room. THEN drops down.* B l u r r: / waves at everyone / Whirl: *BUSTS IN* Whirl: TEACH B l u r r: ... Yes? Whirl: You're alive. Bevel: Hi, Whirl B l u r r: ... For the moment. Whirl: 'Sup, Shovel? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble and Ravage follow a couple of minutes behind, one sitting near Bevel and the other about to stop at Blurr's feet when SUDDENLY WHIRL and there is a startled cat hissing and spitting-- ItsyBitsySpyers: and jumping into the air* B l u r r: / sits up a little and pats Ravage. It okay / B l u r r: / wiggles claws at Whirl / Whirl: *he trots on over to his hammock--oh my GOD THAT RAVAGE REACTION WAS HILARIOUS BUT. BUT. Whirl's wrestling with a deep internal struggle* Bevel: Lots! 'Sup with you? Whirl: *he..... ignores it and merely ascends his hammock throne. For your sake, ravage* B l u r r: You're one to talk, Whirl. I haven't seen you in a while. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage will lick the hell out of a front leg to hide his embarrassment.* Whirl: *clicks his claws right back at Blurr* I've been busy, and stranded, and someone hit me with a spaceship, and you know. All that good stuff. Unable to make it. B l u r r: Sounds like fun. Whirl: A laugh and a half, I assure you. FakeProwl: *"Bonecrusher" looks over at Soundwave—and gives him a greeting/permission ping. Not Bonecrusher, just Prowl wearing Bonecrusher's costume.* B l u r r: Indeed. K-Kyehehehe. Bevel: What happened to the spaceship? *waves to Rumble* B l u r r: I haven't been doing much, personally. Robbing people. FakeProwl: *He tries to shuffle across the room to Soundwave's seat. It's difficlt. He's big. He might bump into one or two people.* Whirl: Right now I've got it. I'm getting my revenge by *huge claw air-quotes* "renovating" it. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Ew. What's in his shoulder?// B l u r r: Oh? Well, if you need help. I've got a few mechs in my ship that can help. B l u r r: / snarls / Excuse you, mech. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is a little confused by the permission. He's more confused by the shuffling. There's some looking around in confusion.* Whirl: *sticks that legy out and rocks his hammock* I might take you up on that, Teach. ItsyBitsySpyers: *In general, a lot of "wut".* B l u r r: Mmhm. Don't hesitate to ask. Bevel: Renovating? Whirl: Gutting it, mostly. FakeProwl: Sorry. *tries to move out of he way and nearly falls over an empty couch. Damn this stupid body.* Bevel: Sounds fun! Whirl: I might be able to use it, but... too early to tell. It's a fixer-upper. Bevel: Do you want any help? Whirl: It's somethin' to do. *bobs his head; he'd offer you a seat Bevel, but you're too big to share the hammock* B l u r r: / snorts at the fall  / Walk much? Whirl: ...*tilts his head; he seems genuinely taken aback by the offer* Oh. Uh. Whirl: Sure, if you want. *TWO PEOPLE offering to help in like. the span of ten minutes. Amazin* Bevel: *way too big for that hammock* FakeProwl: *Mutters.* Not in this frame I don't. *Okay. Mission accomplished. He sits by Soundwave.* Bevel: I do. Whirl: But it's good to see you, Teach. *very casual. Exceedingly casual. Whirl might have missed his friend* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Catches the mutter and tilts his helm. What frame would - oh. But why is he wearing THAT?* B l u r r: Good to see you, too. Naturally. Whirl: Then, yeah. I'm not really... doing anything, except for ripping it up, so you can just ping me when you wanna come over. Nowhere else to be. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Greetings.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: =Does it have files?= Whirl: ((GUS IS THAT U)) B l u r r: (( IT IS )) Whirl: (OMG)) FakeProwl: ... Hi. Whirl: ...*does Prowl still smell like prowl or* Bevel: Ok! FakeProwl: *well. he smells like a hologram.* FakeProwl: *which is what prowl usually smells like, so.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Why are you wearing that?]] Is this because of what he did? Some weird Autobot-style punishment? Whirl: ((PFFT)) FakeProwl: *although what he LOOKS like is a half-rusted zombie Nova Prime.* Whirl: ((pardon, I am unsure of Prowl's in-person privileges as I am out of the loop)) FakeProwl: ... Bonecrusher wanted Buzzsaw to see the final result. FakeProwl: ((he's still locked up, still visiting people in hologram. NO CHANGE, BASICALLY.)) Whirl: ((ALAS, POOR PROWL)) FakeProwl: ((but we have a Plan now)) Whirl: ((good)) Whirl: ((u need someone to smuggle u out..... i might have a ship u can use...... maybe)) FakeProwl: ((no no, he's getting out legally.)) B l u r r: ... /mumbles / That date looked boring anyway. Whirl: *ping ping* @Blurr: Oh, second question. You seem like the sort of guy who'd know where to find one-a these--you know any good taxidermists? B l u r r: / outright cackles / FakeProwl: ((... by which i mean by punching a cop and under-the-table bargaining with starscream.)) B l u r r: / sorry, whirl / Bevel: ((close enough Whirl: ((y'know, i think whirl might approve. Depending)) B l u r r: @Whirl: Your favorite mech on my ship. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Ah. Give him a moment.]] And a literal moment it is. Buzzsaw zips in and perches on the tip of Soundwave's shoulder, peering down. B l u r r: / where is ravage. He will pet / Whirl: *stares into space. Cycles a long, long sigh. REALLY long. Gradually sinks out of siight at the bottom of the hammock as he does this. It's like watching a deflating balloon made of elbows* B l u r r: / oh my god whirl / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage is at Blurr's feet, lightly dozing. He makes the Cat Activation Noise, then settles back under the pets. Buzzsaw turns his head this way and that, examining the holo work.* B l u r r: / pet pets. Respectable pets / Whirl: @Blurr: I'll consider it. B l u r r: @Whirl: He'll do it if I tell him to. Whirl: @Blurr: I mean I',m sure he WILL I was just enjoying a nice, long, Piston-free period of my life. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}This... this is marvelous. Axle grease in the face of every Senator's ego. Such meaning! The textures and details--{{ Beak clack. Thinking. B l u r r: @Whirl: Oh, he's not so bad. B l u r r: @Whirl: He's been rather nice lately. FakeProwl: And he added tiny people, too. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw's optic band blinks. He floats over to the holo's shoulder and perches there, peering even closer.* Whirl: *head pops back up to peer at Blurr* @Blurr: I don't trust him. FakeProwl: *He lifts up an arm to point at tiny people swimming/flailing in a rust wound along Sentinel's right chest and under his arm.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw chatters to himself, clicking and beeping. This is good. This is so good.* }}Gallery.{{ B l u r r: @Whirl: I know you don't, but he'll listen to me if I give him strict rules and orders. FakeProwl: ... They are extremely uncomfortable to feel through. FakeProwl: What? Whirl: @Blurr: maybe. I'll consider it. It's kind of a big deal. Whirl: @Blurr: I got this huge dead snake, and I at LEAST want the head mounted. B l u r r: @Whirl: Oh? Hnnh... Piston would be willing to do that. So long as you let him keep a piece. Whirl: @Blurr: Nope. Whirl: @Blurr: This was a gift, it's all mine. B l u r r: @Whirl: Then you're going to have to let me order him. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}A gallery, sir. An exhibit. It belongs in one!{{ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble's audio receptors are burning. He's not sure why. He'll look at Bevel and squint.* B l u r r: @Whirl: He'll probably be sulky, but he'll work. FakeProwl: ... You really think—? Is that a recommendation or an offer? B l u r r: [[ ugh is it dropping? ]] Whirl: @Blurr: ...I'll consider it. I mean, I don't know any OTHER taxidermists, but yeah. I'll get back with you. Whirl: ((not on my end!)) Bevel: *looks back, she did nothing* B l u r r: @Whirl: sure. Just let me know. He's been needing work lately. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble motions from his visor to her and nods. He knows you're talking to the Boss about him. Aren't you.* Whirl: *bobs his head; the pact is sealed. The "maybe" pact. He flops back into the hammock* ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Both. I have... contacts.{{ Sunstreaker's turned out to be a bit of all right, and Buzzsaw's pretty sure he can get the other two in on this if he sends them a shot. B l u r r: ... Whirl /waves claw / Whirl: *waves claw back* B l u r r: Question about your ship. Whirl: Yes, that's me. B l u r r: Is it big or small? B l u r r: / is going to distract whirl / Whirl: iT'S... hmm. It's not nearly as big as your ship. B l u r r: Does it have a lot of weapons? Was it a war ship or cargo ship? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble gets ready to throw food at Ravage, just in case.* Whirl: Probably comparable to like... uh. Whirl: It'll have some. Rooms. B l u r r: [[ it keeps telling me it's dropping. B( ]] B l u r r: [[ but i don't know if it is or not ]] B l u r r: Rooms? Whirl: *very quietly shrivels up in the hammock* B l u r r: You running a hotel in there? Bevel: *she isn't talking to anyone. she shrugs in confusion at Rumble* B l u r r: A literal Air B&B? Whirl: *a valiant effort, but damn that scene was drawn out* Whirl: Probably not. Uh. Whirl: Be RIGHT back. Whirl: *going to untangle himself and hop out into the hall for a sec* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Right. That's a whole pack of rust sticks hurled at Ravage, who startles and snaps at the nearest object. Sorry, Blurr's leg.* FakeProwl: I'm—I'll tell Bonecrusher you said so. I'm sure he'll be pleased. B l u r r: / YELPS loud which is more like a snarl and a monstrous yipe/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *THAT was a mistake. Ravage zooms away from Blurr and toward Soundwave, using "Nova Prime" like a bridge and everything on the way.* B l u r r: / snarls and rubs his leg. Rude. / B l u r r: [[ i totally haven't eaten dinner. I'll be back ]] Bevel: *jumps at all the noise* FakeProwl: *starts. why cat* Whirl: *he stops pacing in the hall long enough to peer in because what the hell is all this yowling* ItsyBitsySpyers: *It's a Distraction From Whirl's Exit is what it is.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave gently scratches Ravage's shoulders while he listens to Buzzsaw talk.* }}Good. I must get back - but see that you do!{{ Whirl: *it will be appreciated when he puts two and two together later* B l u r r: ... I'll bite you back. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Hisssss.* =No.= B l u r r: What the frag did you bite me for? boomtank: what did I miss?)) ItsyBitsySpyers: =You dropped fuel on me.= B l u r r: I did no such thing! ItsyBitsySpyers: *STARE at the rust sticks on the floor where he was. What's all that, then.* B l u r r: ...Ravage, do you honestly think I'd drop rust sticks? They're my favorite. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Squint. Sloooooow look over to Rumble. Rumble quickly darts out of the room.* B l u r r: ... I can catch him. ItsyBitsySpyers: =I live with him.= Or, "I'll catch him myself later." B l u r r: ... Mmm. It's better to know where they live. Whirl: *is very careful not to step on the fleeing minicon* Bevel: *bye Rumble* Whirl: Sins found you out, eh? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw floats up and leaves the room, snorting at Rumble on the way out.* //Lil bit. Shoulda used crunchers. Heh.// FakeProwl: *nods toward Buzzsaw as he leaves.* Whirl: Mayeb next time. *snorts. After a moment he peeks momentarily in the room, then looks at Rumble, then looks away* But, hey. ...thanks. Whirl: ((! did it just go offline for anyone else or.....)) boomtank: cut off here)) FakeProwl: ((yeah it's offline)) Bevel: ((it did, so glad it wasn't just me B l u r r: [[ is it back now? ]] B l u r r: [[ omg comcast really? ]] boomtank: still down on my end)) Bevel: ((still down Whirl: ((down here too >8V COMCAAAST)) B l u r r: [[ i paused it. B( ]] B l u r r: [[ I don't have time for it to be doing this ]] boomtank: comcast you bum!)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble nods.* //No prob.// ItsyBitsySpyers: ((definitely offline)) Tara: (( yeah, down :c (says the lurker in the background) B l u r r: i reset it. Did it work? ]] Whirl: ((I see a pause screen!)) Tara: (( same - pause screen B l u r r: okay. ]] B l u r r: [[ I wait for the rest of u ]] Bevel: ((looks like it's back boomtank: yup!)) FakeProwl: ((yep!)) Bevel: ((*waves to lurker* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((there it goes)) Whirl: ((ye! o/ )) Whirl: *bobs his helm again and looks to the doorway* Safe for you to go back in yet, mech? B l u r r: / tilts helm and relaxes again, slouching on his couch. Getting bit and crap. How rude. / ItsyBitsySpyers: //The Boss scratchin' him?// Whirl: *pokes his head in, peering* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Yep. Scratching a murder cat while sitting next to a zombie Senator, nbd.* Whirl: *withdraws* Yep. Coast clear. I'll cover you. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Cool. Hammock?// Whirl: But of course. *nods graciously and trots back into the room* Okay. Where was I? Rooms, right. B l u r r: Rooms. B l u r r: omfg COMCAST. B l u r r: ]] FakeProwl: *... you know what. There's no reason for Prowl to still be in this body.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Trotting right alongside. Not that it's hard to see him, spindly as Whirl's legs are, but it's the principle of the thing.* Whirl: *swings ab ck up in his hammock and pauses to give Blurr what he thinks is a meaningful look. Or he hopes is, he's not good with faces, but he wants to say, "thank you."* I have to finish gutting-- Whirl: --the ship before I know EXACTLY how much room I'll have but probbaly enough for one deck, about eight rooms or so. Whirl: No crew, though, just me. FakeProwl: *Nova Prime flickers out and Prowl appears in his place.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Thank you. That was... closer to a senator than he prefers getting.]] B l u r r: Ahh, I see. Sounds entertaining. Bevel: *...that was definitely not a transformation* B l u r r: Well, like I said. I just remodeled mine. FakeProwl: It wasn't any more pleasant to wear. B l u r r: So, I'm willing to help ItsyBitsySpyers: *It wasn't. Bevel should ask about it.* Whirl: *salutes* Well, consider yourself invited. B l u r r: / smirks and salutes back . B l u r r: / Bevel: *she is going to as soon as she finds words* Prowl? *ok one word down* FakeProwl: Imagine growing a bunch of little... cilia-fingers-people out of your side. And feeling through all of them. FakeProwl: *shudders* Whirl: ((it went down again on my end D: )) FakeProwl: *oh wait that was his name.* Yes? Bevel: ((same :( FakeProwl: ((same)) ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Like when he first got his feelers, then.]] *Amused. He'll be quiet for a moment so Bevel can talk, gesturing to her. Yes, go on.* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((damnation it's down)) B l u r r: oh my god im getting annoyed ]] B l u r r: [ Comcast is doing the thing again ]] B l u r r: [[ the slow down thing ]] B l u r r: is it back?? ]] Whirl: ((got a black screen so far :|a)) Bevel: Is that a holoavatar? Whirl: ((ok! Got a pause screen!)) Bevel: ((it is back FakeProwl: ((ye)) FakeProwl: Yes, it is. I don't come to these things in person. Bevel: That is really cool. You can look however you want. Even like an organic! Whirl: *out goes the legy. Rockin time* Bevel: *which is something she can't do!* FakeProwl: ... To be clear, Nova Prime isn't my choice. It's a— hm. An art piece, that Bonecrusher made. FakeProwl: ...... I'm his model. Bevel: It looked really neat. Is it supposed to be someone? FakeProwl: Yes—it's Nova Prime, as he looks in our universe. Whirl: Heheh. Bevel: Nova Prime was the other bad Prime, right? Whirl: Dead as hell, and the world's a better place for it. Whirl: There aren't any good Primes, Shovel. Trust me on this. Bevel: *...thank you Whirl that answered her question some* B l u r r: / scoffs/ FakeProwl: Yes. Right. It'sssss... symbolic ooof... *give him a second.* B l u r r: Theres one good prime /mumble / Bevel: Which one? B l u r r: Mine, of course. Whirl: Okay, wee-ell... fair, your Prime never did anything to *** me off. B l u r r: See? Whirl: But I only knew him for a few minutes. Whirl: ...and he was. Weird. FakeProwl: ... The way that theee... corrupt actions of the senate, protected the Prime, and concealed the... oppression of the people? Or something like that. Bevel: I do not know your Prime and mine... *shrugs uncomfortably* He left. And he did not come back like the others do. Whirl: You're probably better off. Tara: *slides in l8 but w/o starbucks, is just gonna stand in the back of the room for a mo* B l u r r: My Prime was the best. The most capable. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave nods to Tarantulas.* Bevel: *nods vaguely and focuses back on Prowl before she gets distracted by horrible feelings* It looked really neat. I hope Bonecrusher does more work like it. If you do not mind modelling for it. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He will not be Prime if he does come back.]] *Soundwave's made certain of that. But he won't say anything else. Touchy subject.* Whirl: *twists his head around like an owl, looks briefly at Tarantulas, and returns his attention to the screen. ...and Rumble, if he needs a claw up* FakeProwl: If it feels like that, I hope not to model again if I can avoid it. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble's been chilling under the hammock, but now he'll take that claw.* Bevel: So you can feel stuff through an avatar? *general you but yeah* Whirl: *hoisted up like a claw machine; you are now Absolutely Safe from feline retribution* FakeProwl: Yes, yes. It takes an extra patch to be able to feel more than heavy pressure and no pressure. The avatar wasn't designed to work with that patch. FakeProwl: ... It's apparently good enough to be in a gallery. ItsyBitsySpyers: *If Whirl thinks that, he hasn't spent enough time around Ravage. But the sentiment's nice.* Whirl: *...hmm. He feels like he should... do something. Galcnes about. Raises a claw... then puts it down. Then raises again, uncertainly. Then turns the motion into scratching his head* Whirl: *Raises his claw again. Hesitates... and then, with very careful slowness, as slow as if he were trying to sneak up on a fly, rests that claw on Rumble. Just on him. Wherever it falls. Pap.* Whirl: *he's very bad at this* Bevel: That is really cool, Prowl. Tara: You're welcome for that patch, hyeh. *has come over to prowl now, touchtouch just to emphasize his point* FakeProwl: It is, yes. It's... very cool. Bevel: Oh! You did it? Awesome! ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble tries not to snort and just pats the arm that is, apparently, covering him sorta blanket-like because WHIRL IS WAY BIGGER THAN HIM* FakeProwl: *puts a hand over whatever paw is touching him.* Whirl: *VERY VERY MUCH SO* Tara: *to bevel* Only the patch, not whatever else it is you're speaking of. Tara: *puts another paw on top of hand on paw* ItsyBitsySpyers: =Primes.= Yawwwwn. Ravage is an aft. FakeProwl: *looks up at Tarantulas* Bonecrusher made an art piece out of a holomatter avatar. It's going to— it MIGHT be getting displayed in a gallery. Bevel: Just the patch. Avatars are neat. I want one someday. Bevel: *all the transformation power bwahaha* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Why? You already shapeshift?]] Glance to Prowl. [[He was quite serious. The others will be planetside again within a month.]] Bevel: I could blend in more on Earth and go into places I am too big for! FakeProwl: ... Within a month. Hm. Whirl: Heh. Nice. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Oh, hey. He's all like that Matrix human.// Whirl: *nods* Pretty sick. ItsyBitsySpyers: =Why Earth.= Bevel: Lord of the Rings, duh! But other places that are too small would be cool too. *but mostly it's about that Tolkien stuff* FakeProwl: ((the screen's black ;;)) FakeProwl: ((oh there it is)) FakeProwl: ((what did they applaud at)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i have no idea)) B l u r r: [[ idk i walked away ]] B l u r r: [[ i had to go burn my head ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((WHAT)) Tara: (( ????? speedy?? B l u r r: migraine. ]] Bevel: ((the screen was black here, maybe it was supposed to be vague like he is still performing magic? Whirl: ((SPEDDY...)) B l u r r: so i put hot water ]] B l u r r: [[ on my head ]] Whirl: ((GOTCHA. I'm sorry bout your head dude D: get thee some CAFFEINE)) B l u r r: [[ i caaan't ]] Bevel: ((oh that kinda burn Tara: (( dun scare us like that speedy B l u r r: IM SORRY. ]] B l u r r: [[ I forgot you guys don't know what I mean ]] B l u r r: [[ also, for an indie film that wasn't so bad ]] Whirl: ((ye i enjoyed it! edsp. main dude's performance, he was good)) B l u r r: yeee ]] Bevel: ((that was really excellent ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave stretches a little.* [[You hum. Why?]] Whirl: Not bad, Teach, not bad. B l u r r: ... Thanks. Bevel: That was cool. B l u r r: I've still got it. /smirks/ FakeProwl: Just thinking. Whirl: That you do. B l u r r: Well, thanks. B l u r r: I know I've got good picks. Whirl: Dunno how often I'm gonna be able to make these anymore. Depends on, y'know. Where I do or don't get stranded. *gradually lifts his claw, glancing questioningly to Rumble; he is Released from Prison* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[About?]] Whirl: And-or what ships do or don't hit me. B l u r r: / waves claw / Sometimes I don't really make my own. B l u r r: I've been rather busy mysekf. B l u r r: *myself. Bevel: Are you pirating now too? FakeProwl: *shakes head* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble grunts. He was enjoying that, but he'll stretch and sit up, looking pretty pleased.* Whirl: ...was that for me or for Teach? Cos Teach is existing in a perpetual state of pirating right now. Bevel: You! Bevel: I know what Blurr is doing. Sometimes. ItsyBitsySpyers: *He'll take that as an "unimportant" or "not your business". Fair, given what he did to Bonecrusher. He'll just nod.* Whirl: Ah, gotcha. And, no. Law-abiding citizen, that's me. *drapes a claw over his chest* Just touring the galaxy. ItsyBitsySpyers: *NOW Rumble snorts.* Whirl: ...okay. Fine. *shoots Rumble an amused look* i don't have citizenship. B l u r r: No one ever knows what I'm doing. B l u r r: Except me. Whirl: ...and I have a really, tremendously huge bounty on my head right now, but honestly, that's SORT OF working in my favor, so... Tara: Are you quite sure YOU always know what you're doing, Blurr dear? B l u r r: ... /snort/ Nope. Whirl: I was about to say... B l u r r: No idea what I'm doing half the time. Bevel: I saw you walking down a hallway once. *that counts?* B l u r r: That's a mystery B l u r r: Don't even remember where I was going. Bevel: I have never checked if I have a bounty on my head. Maybe in other universes but I do not think so. Technically mercenaries are legal in most places and a totally valid part of warfare. *or something* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Now he is curious.]] They don't really have a parade of aliens who hate their guts on the same level as Whirl and Prowl's timelines do, but still. Whirl: You should. It's a hoot. You'd be surprised how long the collective galactic memory is, for creatures with such short lifespans. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Perhaps he should be grateful most of his work was of the hidden variety.]] FakeProwl: *... Now there's a question. Did Starscream put a bounty on Prowl's head? If so, Prowl's entitled to it. He turned himself in.* Whirl: Well, I'd also guess a lot of your work was against your own kind, right? Bevel: *he should check and collect* Whirl: Aliens tend to get... moody if you mess with THEM. Apparently. B l u r r: My bounty is high. /smirks/ Very high. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Yes. We did not destroy nearly as many organic planets as he is told your universes did.]] Whirl: Amazing, what we managed to accomplish in such a relatively short amount of time. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Like how high?// Whirl: And yeah, Teach--spill. B l u r r: Like very high. B l u r r: / pulls out datapad to search it / It's worth is in credits, though... B l u r r: not sure how that trades in currency Bevel: It depends on the universe. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He wouldn't know.]] Whirl: Last time I checked--and this is what a dog told me--I'm sitting around five million galactic standard Whirl: But SOMEONE told me I was worth more dead--which seems like a lie, usually it's worth more to bring someone in alive. Whirl: But I did... sort of make a big Oops. Recently. B l u r r: Wh? B l u r r: *Eh? Whirl: Before I came here and met all of you guys, I mean. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Whadja do?// Whirl: Apparently, assassinated a beloved politician. Whirl: Well, okay, I know he's DEAD but I didn't know he was important. FakeProwl: ... WHICH beloved politician. Whirl: ...I thought you knew. Whirl: *peers* Not important. He's very dead. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Ain't Ratbat, is it?// Whirl: No, no. Not one of ours. FakeProwl: No, he said beloved. Whirl: *snrks* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave trembles with the strain of holding back a laugh; Rumble explodes with one for him.* FakeProwl: Would it be the beloved politician I spent the last four thousand years courting an alliance with before he was unexpectly killed by a "wandering, malfunctioning cyclops" on Hedonia? Is it that one? Whirl: *shrugs* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Drama and gossip senses tingling. Soundwave stops trembling to listen.* Whirl: I mean, doesn't SOUND like me. I'm functioning perfectly normally, after all. Bevel: *giggles into her hand* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble offers the Boss a listening snack. He waves it away.* FakeProwl: I THINK they were referring to the fact that said cyclops wandered out of a bar, MURDERED someone, and wandered back in. Whirl: Hmm... also doesn't sound like me. When have you ever heard of me ever WILLINGLY leaving a bar? FakeProwl: Four thousand years! I was on a reduced fraction basis with half of his preferred gestalts! All wasted! Whirl: Man. Yeah, that sounds frustrating. Hope you catch the guy. Bevel: *welp now seems like a good time to leave huh* FakeProwl: You—! FakeProwl: .... RRGH! *shoves his face in his hands. FOUR THOUSAND YEARS. FOUR THOUSAND.* FakeProwl: *FOUR THOUSAND YEARS OF /SOCIALIZING/.* Whirl: *tilts his head. The Most Innocent Face* Bevel: *wave to SW and co. bye!* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave just. Gently pats his shoulder. What the hell else do you do other than a There, There to something like that? ANd a nod to Bevel.* B l u r r: [[ welp, i gotta open so yall have fun! ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((byeeeee)) FakeProwl: ((gnight~ sleep well)) Tara: (( i gotta peace out too, night guys <3 B l u r r: / waves claw and just tells people not to break stuff / Whirl: ((GNIGHT)) Whirl: Seeya, Teach! FakeProwl: *grabs soundwave's knee for stability. soundwave. four thousand years.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh, there we go. He'll cover the hand with his other hand. He knows. Not this specific thing, but many things like it, and enough to know that four thousand years of socialization is awful.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble pings Whirl.* @W: //Okay but how'd ya do it?// Whirl: @R: I just shot him. Didn't seem to see it coming. ItsyBitsySpyers: @W: //Psh. Swear to Primus politicians don't never go down tough.// Whirl: *nods* @R: Too pampered, most of them. Whirl: All right! I can sense our good pal Prowl needs... a moment, he seems kinda verklempt. So I'm out. Whirl: Catch you guys later--probably at Dancitron. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Very well. Consider bringing some tinsel.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble squints at Prowl. He doesn't look very clamped at all.* Whirl: *nods* I'll see what I can scare up. *going to carefully extricate himself so Rumble doesn't get dumped out--and nudge him one last time, in thanks. He tried* FakeProwl: *he's extremely clamped* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Bops Whirl goodnight and grins. Seeya Monday.* Whirl: *and with a final bob good-night, he is gone* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Would you prefer company while you process this data or should he return you to the Constructicons?]] FakeProwl: ... Mrgh. Doesn't make a difference. *he's moving through the stages of grief. he's already hopped from Anger straight to Depression.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *...He will try not to be insulted by that somehow.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Come with him, then. He will distract you with details of his last project.]] FakeProwl: *will soundwave's presence or lack thereof bring Imperius Drax back from the dead?* FakeProwl: ... Sure. ItsyBitsySpyers: *...Well, he got several minicons back...* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Anyway, it's the best he's got as far as comfort goes. He'll nod and withdraw his hand so he can leave the ship and go back home. Prowl's welcome to follow or not as he wants.* FakeProwl: *he waits for Soundwave to leave, then flickers out to go join him.*

[roseymoseyberry]

Arrangement (1/?)

THIS IS NOT THE FIRST PART. IF YOU MISSED IT, HIT UP THE PROLOGUE FIRST.

Chapters are gonna be pretty meaty so make sure you’re nice and comfy and in for a long read. Enjoy this taste of the political quagmire this is gonna be, haha.

From this point on, warnings are going to be chapter specific. If you want some of the overall warnings you can check the prologue or just ask about any specific ones you’re worried about popping up.

One change is that I have waffled between it being two or three years after predaking rising. When i posted the prologue I thought I wanted to go with three, but I’ve changed my mind and switched it back to two. I’ll edit the prologue accordingly.

Next chapter will be posted in two weeks (so every other thursday).

Title: Arrangement

Series: Transformers: Prime, post Predaking Rising. More or less ignores everything about RID15, and facts from the rest of the Aligned verse will be cherry-picked as I see fit

Pairing: MegaBee/BumbleTron

Warnings: Politics, mentions of previous canon character death (one of which is said if it was suicide), almost violence, and mentions of past violence/murder. But mostly a lot of politics.

Fic Summary:

“It’s not my deal. I’m just the glitch who agreed to take the job.”

The balance of peace in post-war Iacon is precarious enough when a former warlord returns unannounced from his exile. Without a war to fight in or a leader to follow, a scout turned warrior turned uneasy politician decides to irreparably tie their lives together for the sake of maintaining that peace.

And maybe it won’t turn out to be the worst decision Bumblebee’s ever made.

Chapter Summary:

The three Neutrals were not Autobots. They often leaned their way, but ultimately they weren’t loyal to either faction. Their votes had to be won, and for that the Autobots had to work within their rules.

Somedays, it was enough to make Bumblebee feel as if they were no better than the Cons.

|Prologue|

The lights of Iacon were bright when Bumblebee drove towards them. Most of them were still a ways away but the outskirts were finally coming up, scattered twinkling streetlights and lit windows. His visual sensors cycled and shifted to adjust to the artificial glare after spending hours scouting the vast ruins beyond the city. They were constantly watching for any Predacons straying too close and checking dilapidated buildings for their potential in the next expansion push. Bumblebee rarely needed his headlights on to see in the uninhabited portions of Cybertron thanks to the light of thousands of stars, both near and far. The vast majority of the planet was still lit in only that gentle fashion, the light soft against the jagged ruins of previously stunning cities. Or so Bumblebee had been told, since there was hardly any city untouched by war by the time he was brought online. Eventually it would all be rebuilt, but that would still take time. A couple centuries at least by Shockwave’s latest estimate.

The flood lights of the guard station were nearly blinding in comparison to the gentle starlight.

Bumblebee flashed his brights as he approached it, hoping that would be enough to convince the guard to raise the gate. Technically he, like any other explorer, was expected to check in upon arrival. And really, he should. It was hypocritical that he had had a part in planning these very guard posts himself but wanted to just skip the formalities.

But it had been a long day, his chassis was no doubt scolding to the touch from his long drive back, and there weren’t that many of them that went out on scouting shifts anyway. There was no way that the guard wouldn’t recognize Bumblebee, so what was the point?

And if Bumblebee knew that this was a guard post in the Cons’ part of town and just wanted to avoid having to talk with one of them right now, so what? Surely he was already putting up with more Con slag than anyone could expect from him when he had to listen to Starscream on a regular basis.

However, the gate did not lift. With a harsh ex-vent, Bumblebee cursed his luck and hit his brakes.

The guard didn’t look any more eager than Bumblebee felt. The line of her mouth was flat, though it twitched and threatened to curl into a sneer when another whoosh of Bumblebee’s vents expelled a wave of scorching air.

It would have added another hour to Bumblebee’s trip, but maybe it would have been worth it to get back home through the Neutrals’ part of the city.

“Uh, hey,” Bumblebee started, his chassis settling and his engine humming, “Bumblebee, checking in. Clocked out around--”Before he could get much further though, the Con raised a servo to stop him.

“I know who you are, so don’t bother,” she said, her servo now waving dismissively. “HQ couldn’t contact you, so they told us to tell you to call them immediately.”

It was probably for the best that Bumblebee was in his vehicle mode since otherwise he would have rolled his optics. Just what he needed after a long day – to get called into some last minute meeting. Still, he bounced on his tires and said, “Alright, well, message received. Mind opening the gate for me?”

The Con wasn’t even looking at him anymore, just typing a few keys before the gate shifted. As soon as it was clear, Bumblebee gunned his engine and drove as fast as he dared across the bridge and into the city proper.

The streets were lined with rubbish and Cons, the latter barely having time to sneer at Bumblebee before he was past them. Well, only a handful appeared outwardly hostile – the rest simply looked annoyed with how fast he was racing by. It was enough to guilt Bumblebee into slowing just a bit.

::Hey Arcee, just got back into town. Guard said--::

::Finally! Bee, you need to get your aft over here!::  Even across the commlink Arcee sounded unusually panicked. Bumblebee’s spark clenched in sudden worry.

::What’s going on?::

There was a pause then that dragged on while Bumblebee’s nerves only heightened. It was probably nothing, but maybe Starscream was throwing another fit, or worse yet, Soundwave was settling into a silent protest, or maybe Discbrake had finally snapped and was mutinying against them all—

::Sorry, had to talk with Magnus. Just get here fast as you can, would you?::

::I’m doing my best,:: Bumblebee replied, his engines whining as he popped into a lower gear to accelerate faster. The annoyed looks were back, but they were easily ignored and within seconds he had finally reached a main road. ::But it’s still going to take at least half an hour, so tell me what exactly I’m driving into here.::

There was another pause, but this one much shorter.

::You’ll never guess who decided to show his fragging face.::

“Where’s Megatron?” were the first words out of Bumblebee’s mouth as his sprint slowed and finally skidded to a stop by his fellow Autobots. Ultra Magnus straightened from the bent over position he often took when speaking with Arcee, and Bumblebee was momentarily surprised to see that Ratchet was with them as well. Of course, not being an official member of the Council had never kept him from inviting himself when the medic deemed it necessary.

And Bumblebee was sure that Ratchet was one of the few who had even more to say about this unwelcome guest than he did.

“He’s been incarcerated in the one of the prison cells,” Ultra Magnus said. The only outward indication of his mood was how his mouth was a tighter line than normal.

When Bumblebee opened his mouth, Ratchet interrupted to explain, “And yes, in the new cell block, so nobody else has seen him.”

“Other than everyone that was there when he showed up,” Arcee said with a grim frown. “He came right up to a guard station in Neutral territory.”

“It is not a ‘territory,’” Ultra Magnus corrected sharply.

Arcee gave no indication that she had heard him. “So we’ve done our best to keep it under wraps, but the guard on duty along with anyone else who cared to look would have seen him. Everyone in this city will know by the end of the day.”

“Which is why we need to get this meeting started already,” Ratchet snapped. Ultra Magnus nodded in agreement.

“It’s imperative that we have a plan of action and make an announcement before it is demanded of us.”

“‘Plan of action’?” Bumblebee stared at the three Bots with narrowed optics. “Is that even a question? This is Megatron we’re talking about. Seems pretty obvious to me what we need to do with him.”

“Oh? Would you like to share with the whole Council what’s so obvious?”

Bumblebee’s plating pulled in tight to his frame at the taunting voice in his audial. Starscream had straightened by the time Bumblebee had spun around, and despite the seeker’s casual tone, his wings were raised high and his own plating flared, giving away how agitated he was.

Soundwave and Shockwave were still across the room from them, seemingly ignoring the ruckus.

With a smirk, Bumblebee replied, “For once, I think we’ll actually agree on a topic, birdbrain.”

Arcee’s engine choked and Ultra Magnus ex-vented nearly silently. Ratchet’s ex-vent though was far from contained as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Actually, the Cons are unanimous is their position that we shouldn’t have even locked him up.” When Bumblebee simply gaped at Ratchet in confused silence, the medic added, “That’s what I said.”

“I seem to recall your reaction being much louder and colorful, Doctor,” Starscream said coolly. His optic ridges lifted when Bumblebee turned back to him, the warrior’s expression still twisted in confusion. “Don’t act so surprised. Whatever disagreements Megatron and I may have had in the past are irrelevant to the fact that this violates the first treaty this very Council created. Some of us wish to uphold our promises to this city.”

Behind him, Arcee’s engine now growled and Ratchet’s joined it.

“Your arguments were recognized the first time they were brought up,” Ultra Magnus said, and even his tone was laced with exasperation. Bumblebee wondered how many times he had had to explain it over the last two hours for even the stoic Ultra Magnus to grow impatient. “However, the treaty was not created with the magnitude of crimes Megatron has committed in mind. This is a special case--”

“Yes, yes, as you’ve all already made very clear,” Starscream interrupted. Finally a scowl crossed his face and his wings twitched irritably. “I can’t help but wonder if you would still be upholding that opinion if it was your dearly departed leader who had returned.” Then, the seeker tilted his helm and smirked, and Bumblebee felt his plating flare in preparation. “Of course, I suppose it would be much more impressive, considering Optimus’s--”

Ratchet lunged, held back only by Ultra Magnus’s strong grip on his shoulder and Bumblebee’s pressing back against his chest. “Just try it, slagger,” he hissed, optics flaring. “Go on, say it, see what happens.”

Starscream’s wings spread out wide as he lifted a pede to step closer. It froze, though, and the look he shot over his shoulder at Soundwave was murderous. No doubt there was a comm conversation between the two before Starscream relented.

Whatever he had planned to say, however, was interrupted.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Discbrake bellowed, shoving herself between the Bots and Starscream. She was barely taller than Bumblebee, but she had nearly double his weight in her stocky frame, broad with sharp corners and densely packed limbs. It was almost a blessing that she had been a Neutral, because she would have been a heavy hitter for whichever side she picked.

Not that she would ever, in a million years, so much as touch either badge except to shove at them like she did now to the one of Starscream’s chest, sending him stumbling back hard enough that his wings acting as a counterbalance was all that kept him on his pedes. “You start one more fight, Con, and I swear I’ll finish it for you.”

Starscream bristled and his servos flexed and clenched, but he did not retaliate, instead brushing himself off and watching as next Discbrake turned to shoulder past Bumblebee. She grabbed Ratchet by the collar plating and yanked him down to face her.

“You don’t even have an official seat on this council, so I’m doing you a favor agreeing to let you stay. You don’t want me throwing your aft out, so I suggest you keep your engine nice and idle, yeah?”

Ratchet’s engine turned over, but it otherwise stayed silent.

“Charming as always.”

Discbrake’s frown gave way to something almost like amusement as she shoved Ratchet back a step. “Keep it in your panels, Bot.”

The Autobots exchanged looks, but kept their voice boxes locked. Discbrake’s ire was evenly split between the Autobots and the Decepticons, no matter how loudly both sides had argued to sway her in the council. Neither side could rely on her vote and she reveled in their frustration that her opinions would not fit neatly into either belief set. She was the perfect immovable representation of the many Neutrals who had blamed the results of the civil war on both factions in equal measure.

If anything, her mass that she threw around with ease reminded them that Neutrals outnumbered them all.

Discbrake considered Bumblebee for the first time since he arrived and her frame seemed to relax a bit. “About time you made it back. Metalhawk and Watts are already in the meeting hall,” she said and then increased the volume of her voice, so that even the Decepticons could hear her from their corner, “so let’s get this scrap show started already.”

One by one they filtered in and each took their respective seats around the large, circular meeting table. An extra chair had already been added for Ratchet, who settled himself as far away from the trio of Cons that he could. From there, the factions all sat next to each other – the Cons sat with Starscream between the other two to be more easily held back when his passions ran high. Next would be either Watts or Discbrake, depending on which faction they thought would be more hostile and in need of a bruiser to hold them back. Usually that meant Discbrake sat by the Cons, but today she settled in next to Arcee without hesitation. Watts sat by Shockwave, the minibot peering up at the one-opticked face and nodding in greeting, but even she kept otherwise quiet.

As usual, Metalhawk stood between his fellow Neutrals. While there had never been any vote or even verbal discussion about it, the tall, angular mech had become the de facto referee of the Council due to being the most composed of the Neutrals. For all the arguments and near brawls that had passed in the council room, Bumblebee had never seen Metalhawk look anything more than disappointed or exasperated with the rest of the group. While both the Cons and the Bots would have preferred one of their own running the meetings, that silent battle had long been put to rest for the sake of actually getting anything done.

Unfortunately this left the Autobots to have to butt up against the Deceptions on their other side, so Ultra Magnus and Soundwave always sat themselves together as the most level-helmed of their factions.

Today though, even Ultra Magnus bristled as Soundwave settled in beside him. The Con did not reveal his emotional state in nearly so obvious a way, but the fact that he did not carry Lazerbeak was indication enough that Soundwave did not see the meeting going well.

Metalhawk looked around the table, no doubt surveying the high tensions. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started, shall we?” His gaze settled on Bumblebee and he continued, “While I assume you’ve been informed on your way here, Bumblebee, I think it would benefit not only you but this entire Council if we begin with a summary of the events. Watts?”

The minibot nodded and pulled a datapad from her subspace. Despite the topic, Watts still spoke in her usual calming voice.

“At 14:37 today, a report came in from the mech posted at guard station 7 requesting emergency assistance. Within two minutes, Autobots Prowl and Bluestreak and Neutral Cuff arrived to find Megatron waiting outside the guard station.” With a swipe of her digit on the screen, Watts continued, “According to the guard’s report, Megatron approached the station and requested the guard contact whomever was in charge of the city. The guard informed Megatron that reinforcements were on their way, at which point Megatron stood there and waited.”

There was more swiping. “Bluestreak indicates in his statement that upon arrival, Megatron appeared to be intimidating the guard, but this is not supported by Prowl or Cuff’s statements where they corroborate with the guard that Megatron appeared to simply be waiting silently. All statements agree that at this point, when Prowl arrested Megatron, he willingly allowed himself to be cuffed and detained. There was no struggle when he was loaded into a transportation vehicle and brought here to be imprisoned.”

“I do hate to interrupt,” Starscream said, his tone saccharine as he waved a servo to further catch the attention of the other Councilmecha, and when Arcee rolled her optics he ignored her, “but my companions and I are still confused as to why, exactly, this arrest has yet to be properly questioned regarding its legitimacy.”

“Don’t act as if we haven’t had to hear you whining about it since you arrived,” Arcee replied. “I think it’s been questioned enough.”

“Yet ours are the only voices I’ve heard so far.” Starscream managed to tear his glare away from Arcee long enough to shoot the Neutrals an acidic look as well. “I can understand why the Autobots are practically gleeful in their disregard for his rights, but I have yet to hear even a word from the rest of this council about how this is a gross breach in protocol.”

“I think it goes without saying why that monster is an exception,” Ratchet growled.

“I didn’t ask you, medic.”

Watts frowned and turned to look at her fellow Neutrals. It was Metalhawk who finally spoke up. “While we agree that this does defy the first treaty of this government, these circumstances are beyond what any of us expected and we do not condemn the choice the arresting officers made.”

Starscream sneered. “So you support this unlawful action?”

Discbrake shot him a dark look and retorted, “You know I hate agreeing with Ratchet, but for once he’s right. Frankly, those Bots showed more restrain than I would have had.”

“And you wonder why we doubt the true neutrality of your lot,” Starscream huffed, twirling a digit in Discbrake’s direction. “Why don’t you just ask for some of those badges? I’m sure the Autobots would be more than happy to call you their own.”

This time it was Watts who replied, “It is not a matter of which faction he led, but rather the fact that he led at all. Were the circumstances somehow swapped, I personally would still uphold our position that the arresting officers made the best call.” Discbrake and Metalhawk both nodded their agreement.

That had the Autobots sitting up straighter. Bumblebee barely managed to keep his systems from revving, but he could hear that Ratchet and Arcee hadn’t bothered to muffle theirs. Ultra Magnus waved a servo in their direction though, his meaning clear: they would let that one drop.

And in truth, Bumblebee wasn’t surprised. Watts wasn’t hostile like Discbrake, and she was more biased towards the Autobots and their ideals. However, the self-described sociologist gave both factions the benefit of the doubt, and could often be heard discussing how the similarities between Cons and Bots outweighed the differences. When confronted about it, Watts always appeared surprised by the ire her statements garnered. “I still believe the Autobots hold the moral high ground,” she would insist, “but I cannot deny that both factions were born from similar goals and hold similar social hierarchies and group dynamics. The differences are in gradients, not binaries.”

If Discbrake represented those Neutrals who held a grudge against both factions, then Watts was the perfect stand in for the other majority of Neutrals – mecha who trusted the Autobots over the Decepticons, but were not willing to blindly fall in line with them either.

And Metalhawk – well, Metalhawk was a hard mech to read on a good day. He was far more shrewd than the other two while also better able to mask his own opinions until he revealed them with precision and poise. At times he even voted in ways he admitted he did not agree with but felt best reflected the desires and needs of those he represented.

The three Neutrals were not Autobots. They often leaned their way, but ultimately they weren’t loyal to either faction. Their votes had to be won, and for that the Autobots had to work within their rules.

Somedays, it was enough to make Bumblebee feel as if they were no better than the Cons.

However, it meant that the Decepticons had to act accordingly as well. And for that reason alone, Starscream relented, though not without the smallest glance at Ratchet. “I don’t suppose I could get that in writing, just in case.”

Shockwave was not as adept at politics the way the seeker was, and for the first time since Bumblebee arrived, he spoke.

“Holding both factions to the same standard does not address the base concern,” Shockwave insisted, his optic bright with irritation as he glared down at Watts. “The first treaty clearly states that all mecha, regardless of faction, be granted immunity for actions directly linked to war efforts. I can again recount the entirety of the treaty if the councilmecha have forgotten--”

“We all know the treaty,” Bumblebee interrupted, even as the Autobots around him all ex-vented in exasperation. The warrior could only imagine the giant scientist in the hours that preceded Bumblebee’s arrival reading the treaty word for word when the arguments first started.

And while Shockwave did not follow up on his threat, he turned his optic to the rest of the council and continued to argue, “This was the basis upon which our population has been able to stand and move forward towards reconstruction instead of becoming entangled in endless glitch trials. Ignoring the treaty could lead to a regression to that unproductive state which will only further waste our time and resources to overcome.”

“You’re over exaggerating,” Arcee replied with a dismissive wave of her servo. “Arresting a former warlord isn’t going to result in some doom’s day scenario where everyone starts pointing digits again. If even Discbrake agrees it was understandable, then I doubt any other Neutrals will raise a fuss.”

Watts braced her elbows on the table and knitted her digits together as her optic ridges furrowed. “While I agree that the likelihood of the situation getting out of hand isn’t as great as Shockwave suggests, I would disagree that it’s not a concern at all. After all, while Megatron is certainly infamous and feared by even those of his own faction, we would be setting a precedent that goes against what we have previously upheld.”

“Do you believe that there are mecha who would act on that?” Ultra Magnus asked genuinely, ignoring the looks it got him from the other Autobots.

With all optics on her, Watts sank a little further in her seat, which only further emphasized her small stature. When she glanced at Metalhawk and received an encouraging nod though, she untangled her servos and held them out as she replied, “In truth, I think there is a possibility, yes. For all that we can correctly state that Megatron is a special case, the fact also stands that that is only due to his being the official instigator of the Decepticon Revolt and then the official leader of the resulting faction. Beyond that, his crimes are not much worse than the crimes that were committed by many residents of our city and even this--”

The minibot’s voice box clicked as she suddenly shut it off, though hardly quick enough. It only took a glance for Bumblebee to see that his fellow Autobots and the Decepticons were all watching with rapt attention. Even Soundwave’s helm was tilted ever so slightly, indicating his focus.

It took a moment for her to gather up her courage, but finally Watts continued, “In truth, many members of this very council committed and were forgiven for crimes of a similar degree. Warriors would have likely spent more time in battles than a leader would, so it’s certainly plausible that the same or possibly even more direct deaths were caused by their servos than Megatron’s.” Bumblebee and Arcee both stiffened, and Watts glanced at them apologetically. Still though she did not stop as she then looked to the others around the table. “Furthermore, Lieutenants were allowed enough power within their armies to make some of the same sorts of decisions that would have directly or indirectly resulted in multitudes of deaths and destruction. In the majority of cases where they did not, they would have still collaborated on such plans or even created them to be approved by their leaders. And that is all without discussing the fact this council includes the former Seconds in Command for both factions, meaning that each of you filled the roles of Megatron and Optimus at various times during the war.”

Watts looked between Starscream and Ultra Magnus who each pointedly did not look at one another. “There were times, however brief they may have been, when you were the official leaders of the Decepticons and the Autobots. Stating that Megatron’s arrest was deserved because he is the former Decepticon leader could leave plenty of room for any mecha, factioned or not, to call for your arrests as well.”

There was a moment of silence as Watts’s words settled in.

And then there was chaos.

Starscream and Ratchet were the first to their feet, screeching and bellowing, and they were quickly joined by Arcee, Shockwave, and Discbrake. Arguments flew left and right – “This arrest is unlawful and will lead to the downfall of--!” “Cut the hysterics, you bucket of--!” “While my calculations are still incomplete, there is a non-zero chance--!” “How dare you compare us to--!” “Shove it up your tailpipe--”

Bumblebee stood, ready to join in, but found nothing in his voice box queue. He was angry, certainly, his plating flared and his optics cycling and narrowing and his spark twisted uncomfortably in his chest – how could anyone compare them to Megatron? – but he wasn’t sure what to say.

All he could scramble together was instinct and loyalty and self-preservation. There wasn’t a single argument he could think to add or rebuttal he could make that didn’t come down to “You’re wrong because I’m right.”

He hated how often it seemed to happen these days.

Luckily, no one noticed his floundering because soon enough Ultra Magnus slammed his servos down on the table with a resounding ring and ordered, “Silence!”

The tension seemed thick enough to stick to Bumblebee’s vents.

However, the council waited and watched as Ultra Magnus sat back in his seat before turning his helm to address Soundwave.

“Lazerbeak left soon after you arrived,” he stated. “Can I safely assume you sent her to survey public reaction?”

Soundwave nodded.

“You did?” Starscream hissed, glowering down at his fellow Con. Bumblebee stared at the quiet Con, his surprise echoed by the rest of the council. Soundwave nodded again and Starscream bristled. “Well? Do you have anything to report?”

Soundwave’s visor display shifted and dimmed before white strands of light spread across the surface, quickly drawing outlines of the city along with a timestamp which all stood in sharp contrast to the otherwise dark surface. One by one, colored points of light lit up across the city, starting at a single point where the guard station was and rapidly spreading outward as the timestamp was nearly a blur with how quickly it fast-forwarded. By the time the visual data reached their current time, the dots were spread around most of the Neutral section of the city and a ways into the Autobots’ section. The dots were very scarce along the Decepticon border, but those that had made it were quickly starting to spread in real time.

Soundwave’s voice was monotone and cold, though it no longer held the novelty it once had for Bumblebee. The Decepticon’s vow of silence had been broken since he was brought back from the shadowzone to find the war over, and while he was still silent most of the time, there was nothing that could stop him when he did have something to say.

“Neutrals: aware of rumors of Megatron’s appearance and arrest,” he started, the dots in the Neutral area glowing brighter to emphasize them as he spoke. “Opinions are varied, generally neutral or positive regarding arrest.” A small graph appeared next to the map, too small for Bumblebee to really see from where he sat, but Ultra Magnus considered it carefully. “Autobots: arguing over legitimacy of rumors. Opinions are positive regarding arrest.” The same brightening of dots and graph appeared, though even Bumblebee could see that the bars on the graph were vastly different. “Decepticons: still learning about rumors, observations incomplete.” Then, with only the slightest of movements, Soundwave’s helm faced the Autobots a bit more. Somehow, his tone was even colder as Soundwave said, “Opinions are varied, generally neutral or negative, but unsurprised regarding arrest.”

Bumblebee could have sworn his spark froze in his chest. Starscream was always full of indignation and even Shockwave could rant with the best of them, but Soundwave had always been level-helmed even without his master.

It was just a crack but a crack in Soundwave’s exterior meant there had to be a torrent of emotion behind the visor.

If Ultra Magnus noticed the venom laced in the glyphs though, he gave no outward response to it.

“Thank you, Soundwave. Could you send that data to me?”

“I would like it as well,” Shockwave added.

The image on Soundwave’s visor flickered away and within seconds Ultra Magnus and Shockwave were pouring over their datapads.

Metalhawk had yet to take his optics off Soundwave. “In your opinion, Soundwave, do you believe there will be backlash for the arrest?”

“Data still inconclusive,” Soundwave stated, “but, if Decepticons continue to follow pattern: approximately 6% of population will act in protest to the arrest.”

“Six would be manageable,” Watts commented, pulling her own datapad out. “What do you think would be the worst case scenario?”

Without hesitation, Soundwave replied, “18%.”

The whole council winced.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.” Discbrake settled back into her chair, and all the others who were still standing followed her example.

“Probably all Cons anyway, so at least they’d all be in one place.” Starscream’s optics threatened to burn holes through Arcee’s helm, but she just shrugged at him. “What? Are you honestly going to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Just because you don’t represent them doesn’t mean they aren’t still citizens of your city.”

“Yeah, and I know them well enough to know they’ll be the ones to whine about it.”

Starscream was back on his pedes but it was Soundwave’s thin digits on his arm that kept him silent. They shared a look – and no doubt another commlink conversation – before Starscream sat down with a loud huff of his vents.

“Arrest: irrelevant at this time,” Soundwave stated, not even twitching when Shockwave’s helm snapped to the side to stare at him. “Autobot opinion: officers acted appropriately. Neutral opinion: in agreement. Decepticon opinion: outvoted. Further argument, pointless. Proposition?”

“Of course, Soundwave,” Metalhawk said, his expression giving away nothing.

“New discussion about next step.”

The room remained surprisingly silent after that, which had Bumblebee looking around. Finally he ventured, “Well, he was arrested, so that means we set a trial date, right?”

And, yet again, over half the council got to their pedes, a couple chairs tumbling to the ground behind them, and their voices were even louder than before.

All Bumblebee could do was shrug as Ultra Magnus, Soundwave, and Metalhawk all stared at him with exasperation.

While it had been years now since he had been promoted from being a scout to a warrior, old habits died hard as Bumblebee just watched and listened. When the council was first being formed, he had put up just as much a fight as Arcee or Ratchet did, refusing to be quiet as Starscream and Shockwave were allowed on the council, refusing to be gracious when the Cons were allowed to retrieve Soundwave from his Shadowzone prison, refusing to even listen when the three Cons tried to get Decepticon issues on the table.

“He has killed countless mecha, destroyed this planet, and then tried to destroy another on multiple occasions, and by the Allspark, he’s going to be held accountable for that!”

“We could lose everything if we give that monster even an inch!”

But it hadn’t done any good in the end. Arcee seemed satisfied knowing she had tried her best and would continue to, but Bumblebee couldn’t find solace in just yelling at a proverbial wall and slowing down any progress the council made.

So Bumblebee had watched Ultra Magnus and considered falling more in line with his style – collected and reasonable and open to giving some concessions if needed. Ultra Magnus never raised his voice except when calling for silence, never shouted his opinions. He kept his emotions in check.

“You cannot put Megatron on trial, and that’s final! If we start putting war crimes back on the table to be judged, you and I will both be offlined right along with him!”

“No one is suggesting that execution even be a consideration as a potential punishment.”

“Well then I hope you’re ready to be locked up together for eternity!”

“Soundwave, do you have updated statistics regarding public response, and could you extrapolate them to the scenario in which we hold a trial.”

“Don’t you dare entertain him for even a second--!”

“Protests in case of trial: 15% in best case and 36% in worst case.”

“We’re doomed if you put that bucket of bolts on trials!”

It became pretty clear to Bumblebee, as he watched Ultra Magnus calmly respond to Starscream’s shrieked protests, that he would never achieve that level of control over his emotions.

Which left Bumblebee at a lost in these meetings. He would consider giving his official seat in the council to Ratchet if he thought the medic would actually take it, but knew better.

So he fell back on scouting.

And it was with frustration that Bumblebee could see that they were going to lose this fight. While the Neutrals weren’t swayed by the fear-mongering that Starscream was spouting – they supported the first treaty because the city was in chaos, not out of real forgiveness of what had occurred during the war – they also seemed unconvinced that a trial was worth the risks.

Frankly, even Ultra Magnus looked concerned, his optic ridges furling deeper the more he looked at Soundwave’s data.

It was with a heavy ventilation cycle that Bumblebee bolstered himself. There was no point in scouting if he didn’t share his findings.

“Hey, guys?” Once at least a few optics at the table turned to him, Bumblebee continued, “Listen, we can debate this trial all night, and I know I was the one who even brought it up, but it’s pretty obvious that the trial isn’t an option.” Ratchet looked absolutely betrayed, and Bumblebee couldn’t help his shoulders drooping a bit. Now, all optics were on him. “I don’t mean that as my opinion, but the fact is that not enough of us think it’s worth the risk. The Cons obviously are against it” – Starscream nodded resolutely – “and I don’t mean to speak for the neutrals, but Watts is clearly against it, and I don’t think Metalhawk and Discbrake are convinced either.”

Watts only nodded, her opinion known, and Discbrake shrugged as she said, “I have no problem personally with putting him on trial, but I also know if I wasn’t on the council, I would want to use the excuse to put most of your afts on trial too.” She easily ignored the glowers as she turned to Metalhawk. “What about you, stiff?”

Metalhawk’s mouth turned down a bit before he nodded. “I understand why you and many others desire it, but making an exception for Megatron will leave too great an opportunity for those who were unhappy with the treaty as well as those who are hold little respect for factioned mecha."

"So you'll all allow Megatron, who only wanted peace through his tyranny, to escape the consequences of his actions?" Ratchet growled, his digits digging into the palms of his servos, his mouth tight and his optics bright with ire. "What use is a council if the Cons and Neutrals hold us back with their fear?"

"It's not just them," Bumblebee pointed out. He flinched when Ratchet turned to glare at him again. But still, the warrior looked to Ultra Magnus and said, "You don't support having a trial either, do you?" It was a question technically, but the way Bumblebee spoke it made it clear it was one looking for simple confirmation, not out of genuine curiosity.

Slowly, Ultra Magnus let out a long ex-vent and nodded. Now Arcee was running hot as well, her and Ratchet's optics locked on the tall rule-keeper.

"You've got to be kidding me, Magnus," Arcee hissed. "How could you back down on this? Megatron needs to--"

"What I want unfortunately does not make up for what must be done." With a few swipes of his digits on the datapad, he slid the device down so that Ratchet and Arcee could see it better. Bumblebee looked down as well, but the graphs and statistics were too complicated for him to pull apart and glean the small details from. The percentage numbers though were easy enough to understand, and they were only getting larger as more data filtered in. "We must face the fact that the risk is, indeed, too great. Protests would come not just from the Decepticons, but from frustrated Neutrals as well as our own faction. There are far too many who would wish to utilize any break from the established treaty to indulge their own desires for revenge or justice."

"So we're brought down by cowards."

Arcee did not immediately add to Ratchet's comment. Her engine was still running hot, and Bumblebee saw that Discbrake was watching her warily, her frame poised to move if needed. However, ultimately, Arcee's crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat. "Fine, so we're outvoted. If none of you will listen to reason, then let's just move on."

Ratchet, however, still turned and looked at Bumblebee. "You too?"

That made the warrior pause. For all that Bumblebee had gathered the information and figured out that the fight was lost, he had not spent time to consider if his opinion had actually been swayed. He absolutely wished for Megatron to face his crimes, to have everything he had ever done laid out before him, to make him look at it all and know they were the reasons for his punishment. The public humiliation was tempting.

But Bumblebee also remembered all those Decepticons and Neutrals he had passed on his way to the meeting and their looks of distrust.

He’d heard his fair share from overcharged Autobots about what they would do if they had a chance to be in the same room as Starscream.

"I'm as sick and tired of Megatron coming back time and again as anyone is.” Bumblebee opened his servos and looked down at them, remembered how it felt to push that sword through Megatron's chest and watch the life fade from his optics, the relief knowing he was gone, before continuing, "But this is a dead end. We can’t risk everything we've worked so hard to make just because of him."

"Well said, Bee."

Bumblebee frowned over at Starscream, his plating flaring out in irritation. The seeker didn't seem to mind though as he continued, "Since all the official councilmecha are agreed then, shall we consider the circumstances of his release?"

"Whoa!" Bumblebee exclaimed, optics wide as he held his servos up. He was far from the only one. "I didn't say anything about release!"

"Nobody did and nobody should," Discbrake agreed with a surprising growl in her voice.

Nevertheless, Starscream's wings shifted to a high, aggressive stance and Shockwave's optic cycled narrow but bright.

"If we are not putting Megatron to trial, then it is unlawful to hold him," Shockwave insisted.

"By old laws, certainly," Watts agreed, and this time she only twitched when Shockwave's stare was blinding in its intensity down at her. "The guard has been functioning under similar rules as we had before the war, but technically only some of those rules have been fully processed and cemented by this council to be law. Many of them are still being tweaked and kept slightly fluid to best fit the current city situation as it changes, and one of those aspects is detainment."

"But if the arrest itself is unlawful because it was due to Megatron's war crimes, then that in turn means that detainment would be as well."

"Logically, yes. But we as a council did agree that we have accepted the reasons for his arrest and pardoned them, so the illegality of the arrest is now moot. With that out of the way, the only question is whether is it legal for us to keep someone detained without trial," Watts explained, "and technically we have not made a law about that. In fact, we avoided it for a while when we were making arrests but did not yet have a court system set up. There were several citizens we had detained without a trial date who remained imprisoned for months until we were able to process them."

"But we have those systems in place now," Starscream pointed out. "We held onto those mecha because we had no other means to deal with them. Now, however, we do have a path to trial, but have chosen not to follow through with that. Therefore, we cannot detain him."

"You're still speaking in moral terms," Ultra Magnus interrupted, looking to Watts for a moment to make sure his intrusion was welcome. When Watts nodded, he continued, "What Watts is saying is that legally we do not have a law against long-term detainment without trial. Whatever moral qualms we may or may not have, it is within our rights."

"And what about his rights!" Starscream slammed his fist against the table. "What about his rights as a citizen!"

"Sounds to me like they're saying legally he doesn't have those rights in this case," Discbrake replied with an almost gleeful glint in her optics. "And I’ll state up front that I have no problem letting him rust away down in that pit of a prison cell."

"While I agree that legally we're in the clear, I cannot imagine we can let this go on indefinitely." Ultra Magnus reached his long arm out to grab his datapad again. "Once enough questions are asked, we will have to tell the city that we do in fact have Megatron in our hold. Once we do, the next logical question is what we plan to do with him, and while obviously a trial is out of the question, detaining him for too long would likely result in similar sentiments."

"Timeline longer, build up slower. However, protests: still inevitable."

"Well, that's all fine and good, but we still can't just let him go," Arcee argued, leaning forward so she sat on the edge of her seat, her servos moving in front of her as she spoke. "I'll let the trial go, but what else can we do but keep him locked away."

"Maybe if, for once, this council would just listen to me, then you'd realize I'm not suggesting we just let Megatron wonder the streets." This time, Starscream pushed his chair back with carefully manufactured poise. It looked as if he was ready to pace as he spoke -- like he had tried to do constantly when the council first formed, and Bumblebee still wanted to ask if Decepticons just didn't have chairs at their meetings -- but he kept himself in one spot. "We cannot send him to trial because of the populace, and we cannot keep him indefinitely detained either for that very same reason. It will be slower, but there is an undercurrent of pitiful grudge keeping in our city that we can't ignore."

"Can't imagine what that would be like," Discbrake muttered, but she leaned back in her seat and otherwise kept her thoughts to herself.

"So, we must find a way to make it look like a show of good will. Make it appear that we have every intention of keeping on as we have been. For all intents and purposes, it will seem as if we have allowed Megatron his freedom."

"If you honestly think that that will appease any grudges the Autobots hold, you're sorely mistaken," Ratchet pointed out. "They'll be furious. I’ll be furious!"

"True," Startscream admitted with an almost dainty looking shrug of his shoulders, his wings fluttering just once. "However, history shows that your lot aren't the revolt type, are you?"

"I think I could find it in me."

"Ratchet, come on," Bumblebee said quietly, elbowing the medic ever so gently. "Just let him get it out of his system or we'll be here all night."

Ratchet's plating shifted and flared before finally settling against his frame with a huff of his vents. "Fine. Get on with it then."

"How gracious," Starscream replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It is true that there will be resistance to that as well, but we'll find resistance regardless of what we choose to do, so why not pick the path where ill feelings will remain feelings, shall we?"

"We're already letting you have your moment so just get on with it already," Arcee insisted.

Finally, with a nod, Starscream said, "We will release Megatron, but under house arrest. That way we will have an opportunity to get a feel for his intentions and keep an optic on him at all times, since I think we can all agree he cannot be trusted on his own.” Bumblebee glanced at Soundwave, but the quiet Decepticon revealed nothing, not even a shift of a single plate. “He will still essentially be detained, but to the public it will look like we’ve granted him his freedom as follows the treaty."

“And I suppose you want to be his new jailor?” Arcee’s optic ridges arched high.

Starscream practically preened as he glanced down at his digits – still clawed even after the war. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but if you insist--”

“No one is insisting,” Discbrake tried but still Starscream continued.

“—it is true that I and my companions are uniquely qualified to handle Megatron. You spend enough years with that maniac and you start to see how he ticks.”

“Yet you never did find the trigger for that bomb, did you?” Arcee quipped, a smirk growing on her face at the indignant squawk that pulled out of Starscream.

“That’s an entirely different situation!”

“I think I finally get why you’re on board with defending Megatron,” Bumblebee added. “Easier to kill your former lord when he’s trussed up in your living room, huh?”

“I don’t have to take this from your lot!”

“Jealous that after millennia of trying, I got him in one shot?”

Shockwave’s servo clasped Starscream’s arms tightly while one of Soundwave’s data cables wrapped around the other, keeping the seeker solidly in place even as his wings beat an aggressive staccato against his back.

“Yet he still lives while your paltry excuse for a leader went and killed himself!”

Before either Arcee or Ratchet could make their move, Discbrake was behind them, her thick arms wrapped around them in tight helm-locks that lifted Arcee off her pedes. The small warrior’s kicks were no doubt precisely aimed though since Bumblebee heard the neutral mech hiss in pain. It didn’t help that most of her focus was likely on Ratchet whose strength was a close match to hers as he attempted to wrench his way out from under her arm.

Bumblebee didn’t really notice anything else though since he was already on his own pedes, opting to simply follow the shortest path between him and Starscream by hauling himself onto the table. In a flash though, Watts had vaulted her frame up onto the table and stood in front of Bumblebee, her arms outstretched to make her intension of getting between them clear, but even the warrior could see she was trembling.

Lightning fast, another one of Soundwave’s cables was between Bumblebee and Watts, the wires at the end spread out wide and sparking with charge at the warrior.

The threat was pointless though as Bumblebee’s gyros suddenly spun, his frame yanked up effortlessly and pulled tight against a larger one behind him. The arm around his middle was like a vice grip.

“Soldiers!” Ultra Magnus shouted, his tone sharp and leaving no room for argument. “At ease! Now!”

With his spark twisting and roiling it his chest, it felt wrong. Two years and still the absence hurt, a void that would never heal over, never stop being painful, never quiet the restlessness that plagued Bumblebee.

Yet spending his entire functioning as a soldier had his body stilling instantly. There was a relieved ex-vent from Bumblebee’s right as no doubt Arcee and Ratchet followed suit.

Even Starscream grew silent, though he still pulled uselessly at his companion’s holds on him.

Ultra Magnus did not release his grip either.

“Metalhawk, I recognize that we are on a short timeline, but I still suggest we break to collect ourselves.”

“I agree,” Metalhawk replied coolly as he slowly got to his pedes. “My only request is that when we return, there be no more discussion of the war beyond what is necessary. We must focus on this city as it is now.”

“Agreed.”

“Affirmative,” Soundwave added on behalf of the Decepticons, the data cable that had hovered above the table finally coiling back towards his frame.

And with that, Ultra Magnus finally dropped Bumblebee, but only so he could push him forcefully towards the door.