#megatron HELD HIS OWN CORPSE IN HIS ARMS

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

The Coveted Star

(A/n: This is my first little attempt at a little transformers blurb of Megatron x OC/Self insert who will be greatly elaborated upon in later posts. Just thought id dip my toes in the water here.)

Tags: Nonspecific Transformers continuity (As of current at least, leaning towards TFA, or maybe changing context and interaction before going earthspark) Description: Megatron trying to persuade a human turned unaffiliated bot into joining the Decepticons. Word Count: 637 Warnings: Probably ooc Megatron x Fem oc/self-insert; Probably confusing lore but will have an oc lore dump post laterrr; brief corpse mention but not serious; Religious Imagery - hell mention; slight xenophobia; eye strain because colored text; probably poor use of cybertronian anatomy

“Look at you! A great star in the sky among walking corpses with withering souls! You hold amazing power… it would be such a waste for you not to use it…” The dirtied grey mech held out his servo in offering to Aquarion, his broad digits scratched and deeply scarred from decades of fighting, of war. The sleek femme’s purple optics moved with trepidation from the dark flat palm of his servo, flitting across his dented plating until their optics met.

The crimson glow of his optics burned like the fires of hell that made old historians writhe in their sleep before vomiting their horrors onto withered pages in striking raven ink. If his passion was inferno, he burnt like the lake of fire he'd be condemned to for the sins he held heavy servo'd against his fellow kin. Palms bathed in enough energon alone to rejuvenate his dead and broken home...

“I cannot take a place at your side…” Aquarion’s soft tone breaks with static, vocalizer quickly correcting as she vents a heavy puff of steam. White plating shone like freshly fallen snow, violet bio-lights peeking out between the crevasses, the breaks in her armor.

Her frame ran hot. Wiring burning with unease much like the nerves that used to sting her once human flesh with sensations deeper than this by tenfold. “To take up my burdens and follow you would be to turn my back on the people that I used to be a part of.” As the words left her, a frown wormed its way across her faceplate.

“Used to. Have you not experienced the hateful gazes? The fear and scrutiny in their fleshy eyes as they look up at the form that has consumed you. Changed you-" The leader of the Decepticons arms swing out dramatically, gesturing to the femme in all her new glory. The body that held her conscious was strong and sturdy, powerful, volatile, capable! It would kill Megatron to see the potential in her circuits wasted on neutrality -- or worse, the Autobots. "-Named you Aquarion and chose you out of all your kind for a higher purpose! This is a gift... You are no longer one of them! You are one of us!” Megatron demands, the deep timbre of his voice echoing not only within the gears of his own chassis, but hers as well. There’s an echo of desperation, an anticipation to make her understand that things are not the same anymore, her life is no longer what it was and never will be again.

No longer human, but hot blooded cybertronian... "I can't-"

"Take my hand!" Megatron demands harshly now, thrusting his servo forward once more at her continued hesitance, the swift movement of his hand towards her making her massive wings flare in a defensive stir. "Take my hand, and I will show you greatness you've never known! Teach you who you were meant to be..." The roughness of his vocalizer tapering off into a tender request.

Why did he persist so strongly? Demand so insistently that she follow him? Go with him into the deep dark night into even more mystery?What fears would she have to conquer as her palm fit smoothly within his own?

What manipulation, scheming, plotting would she be forced to be a part of? The decepticons certainly weren't the kindest or truthful of all beings. But Megatron their great leader, strong, dangerous, downright terrifying to any normal human... Stood face to face with her and-

"Please."

His pleading, set in motives unknown sent her over. Aquarion relents and takes his servo firmly and without another thought.

"Alright then... why don't you show me what I can do?"

Aquarion knew not what path this choice would lead her, but she was sure of one thing. This was going to end terribly.

[rscroogedraws]

Another commission for Rhazberriquartz of Megatron rescuing his interlinked human partner Rosie from Galvatron.

Rhazberri provided this particular scene from her in-progress fanfic and it's included below (Megatron's POV). For more context about Rhazberri's Transformers AU as well as Rosie, she's Rhazberriquartz on almost all social media platforms. 

--

Snippet from Rhazberriquartz' fanfic:

When Galvatron was down, calipers and joints buckling under the distress and failure of his own body I carefully scooped up Rosie. She was bleeding and bruised, but still fearless. As she settled we looked over the poorly designed copy of myself and for once - I waited to make a move. 

He represented everything I was and am. And I was ready to destroy him. As I felt my conjunx settle something in my spark flickered. A righteous rage I had never felt before. It was running deep in my circuits and it took me far too long to realize the rage I felt wasn't mine. It was hers.

"As if you have the courage to order him to end my life Rosie... you're too nice for that." Galvatron spoke as if he was praying to be correct in his assumption. 

Rosie shifted and stood up, I felt her anger boil and flood my systems as she motioned her right arm. I smirked and followed suit aiming for his spark. I was more than happy to end his life. To kill the old version of myself I saw within him. To use this victory as a representation of the changes I was making. 

But I felt her weight shift as she jumped to my fusion canon. I looked at her quizzically as I felt a moment of eerie calm.

"I'm kind not nice." Then in a motion I barely registered she pulled the trigger herself setting off my canon and obliterating the false mech before us. She fell back into my servos breathing heavily. I looked to the corpse and took two more shots. One at his head and the other at the decpticon logo on his shoulder.

"You know I could have..." I started.

"I know, but I promised we'd do this together - and I meant that." She smiled at me as she held her side, "Let Jazz get me to the hospital. I'll met you back home."

[captainsavage50]

Transformers: he death of the tyrant

“WARNING WARNING CIRCUITRY DAMAGE, PLEASE SEE NEAREST FIXER BEFORE PERMANENT DAMAGE! WARNING WARNING” the on board virtual intelligence  was blasting out its alerts as the blackness of the void enveloped his optics. The voice of the alert system quickly faded as the cybertronian regained consciousness and turned off the built-in secondary computer that controlled the inner works of circuitry and cogs that were built together to form his mighty frame. His optic lit up a solid blue, but something was amiss,, his vision wasn’t fully complete. He ran a diagnostics check from the corner of his neural interface and found out a harsh truth. One of his optical cameras on his face was completely destroyed. It was an empty black spot on his face plate, but it was too late to turn back. Not when he’s so close to his objective. The diagnostic check brought up more problems the robot was unaware of, his left shoulder armor was completely exposed, nothing was severed or cut, energon was still pumping through his veins. But that break in his armor left him exposed, vulnerable, and his own blaster had blown up at the barrel. “No matter the cost”. Optimus  continued on through the rubble,it seems like the blast that knocked him off the highway sent him through into one of the iacon spires that decorated the city. Megatron was close, he could feel it in his gears, this war has to stop now, no matter what it costs. For the sake of his species, for the sacrifices he has made, for the dead, this war has to stop. Blaster fire echoed throughout  the halls of the spire as Optimus got closer and closer to where it was originating. But this place, this spire was feeling  almost familiar to the prime, but the damage this building has sustained  made it near unrecognizable. The shots got louder and louder, then silence filled the room, and a clash of metal striking metal could be heard. Optimus reached an opening and his optic widened, he knew exactly where he was, the council of elders. Energon and oil dripped from the hanging corpse that violated the chamber, they were hanged by their own wiry. Their bodies were mauled and beaten so terribly the weight of this crime nearly crushed Optimus' spark. This was an effigy against all living things. And in the center of the room the conqueror, the dominator, the lord of the decepticon stood. And in the clasp of his hands, he held jazz by the helm. “So glad you could join us prime, i believe this is yours?” and in one fell motion he launched jazz into the direction of optimus. The prime caught him and knelt down with the warrior in his arms. Energon leaked from his missing arm and dented torso, while sparks fizzed and jittered from the exposed wires from the battered frame.  “Sorry prime… I tried to dance with him, but he stepped on my toes. Think you can take over?” .  Even though his body was in pain and near the verge of shutting down completely, he couldn’t help but give a smile, no matter how hard it hurt.

“I am sorry i was not here with you old friend”  a steady hand laid on jazzes chest as the visor of the lieutenant faded offline. “But now, you will be avenged” and with those last few words Optimus's plate collapsed closed. Setting aside his dead comrade as he stood tall. Anger built up as his gears spun violently against each other. His engine fuming with hatred for a mech who he once called brother. Megatron smiled dastardly as he circled around the prime. “How many more lives must I take from you, prime? 10, 100, 10000? You say you will stop me no matter the cost, but who are you to spend the lives of others in your crusade to stop me? Surrender and so that I will only need to take one more life prime.”  he paused as he stopped directly in front of Optimus. “ yours.” he cackled villainously as he ejected the handle of his weapon into the air and grabbed it. Once he caught the hilt the weapon flashed to life and dark purple flail came into action. The spiked ball at the end of the chain slammed into the ground from the sheer weight of it, but to the lord of the deceptions its weight wasn’t a hindrance at all. The leader of the free galaxy paused. His engine stalled as he glanced back to the lifeless body of his friend. Those words “how many more”  stung his circuitry.  He cannot guarantee no more will die, he cannot protect everyone all the time. He was only one prime in a galactic war of near unimaginable proportions. If he sacrificed himself now would the loss of freedom be truly worth saving the lives of his entire species. And then his optic went back to meatron. how far he has fallen, how much damage he has done. If Optimus was to give up himself, would he truly stop at one life? No…. no. “NEVER” the prime shouted as he clenched his fist and swung it into megatron's face. The gladiator champion didn’t even have time to react before the punch sent him tumbling into the wall. The prime stood tall as bright lights loosened from the ceiling and coated him in an aura of brightness. “You would never stop at one megatron, but I will.”.  Optimus' engine kicked into overdrive as his spark pump seared hot energon into his fuel intake. Smoke stacks on each of his shoulders bellowed in a chorus of rhythmic hum with each other. In his palm he held the hilt of his ax, which grew into the formidable weapon. Its shaft extended as the blade developed and grew, curving outward and burning with rage. Slamming the hilt into the ground, his optic, his biolights, and the matrix of leadership shone  a bright blue over megatron,  as prime  nearly ripped his vocal cords that linked his voice box as he shouted “YOUR TYRANNY ENDS HERE MEGATRON”. His voice sounded like thunder from legends as it could nearly be heard from the very bottom of the streets of iacon. It was almost like the war stopped for a single moment as optimus was about to show the true power of a prime.

                                                                                     A flash of purple blasted through the dust created by the destruction of the wall that megatron's body was responsible for. Optimus sidestepped the fusion cannon blast but before he could react the chained ball of megatron's flail smashed into his chest piece sending backwards and landing on his knees as sparks emitted from the padded scraping against the cold metallic floor. .”Don't be so confident, prime.” the tyrannical dictator barked as he began to twirl the flail in his hand with malice. The next blow Optimus caught with his free hand caught the chain of the tyrant's weapon and used it as leverage to pull megatron into his fist. It collided with the Decepticons face again but this only grew the rage in the silver mech.

“How dare you” Megatron scoffed before he swept his weapon under Optimus' legs , tripping him up. This gave the tyrant ample time to wail on the prime with his weapon, breaking and denting more of Optimus  armor as he slowly approached him. As Megatron was about to wind up a follow up strike, Optimus pushed himself up and used that force to kick Megatron in the chest with both pedes. The silver con took the blow, only to in return dish out damage as he slammed the Autobot leader in the ground after words. The prime pushed himself up immediately and slammed the weapons pommel in Megatron's chest before pulling it out and slicing off the fusion cannon. “I don’t want to end in bloodshed.” Optimus shouted. But a smile crept on Megatron's face “your last mistake.”                                                                         Optimus swung for another strike with his ax and the Decepticon leader took it in his arm, blocking it from hitting his chest. “ die prime” Megatron  kicked the prime away, pulling out the ax of the prime which was embedded in his arm. Optimus tried to retaliate but was struck by the flail again. The leader of the Autobots tried to stand back up, but the tyrant pede slammed in Optimuses chest. “The first execution of many” he cackled as the once ax of the red and blue protector will now be his undoing, as Megatron raised it one final time to deliver a killing blow.                                                 Optimus slammed his elbow into the ground, causing the floor to shatter from his awesome strength. The two tumbled through the air as they fell, giving Optimus a chance to enact additional blows which Megatron would reciprocate. Optimus was able to get the advantage over Megatron as he used the leader of tyranny to take the brunt of the impact. But Optimus didn’t offer any respite as he clenched both fists together and brought them down on Megatron's faceplate in one collective blow. The impact shattered multiple layers of Megatron's armor and shut down a multitude of systems. “ I still function, prime.” The Decepticon spoke through a fractured jaw. Optimus only stood up and grabbed the ax, his ax.  “Go on prime spare me, you don’t have the nerve to kill me, you're weak like that.” Optimus glanced at Megatron and put away the ax as he stepped towards his former brother in arms. His one functioning optic dimmed as he muttered “ there were times where I would spare you D-16” Optimus curled his fist once more as he prepared a final strike. “ But I must end your madness once and for all.”Megatron tried desperately to reach towards Optimus as an act of defiance. “ no you can’t Orion, you need me” Optimus muted his audio receptors as he spoke one final sentence, “ till all are one my friend.” before he punched Megatron's chest and crushed his spark. Optimus knelt down beside his brother's body, as the tower began to collapse around him and yet he remained stoic and still till the end.

[cadet-songbird]

WOOO ANOTHER TAG GAME (fixed because I didn't read the instructions)

I'll put character descriptions below.

Glit

"Kind but stubborn, he is the best surgeon the Decepticons have. Unusually for his allegiance, he's compassionate enough to treat any wounded robot he comes across, regardless of their faction. It is said that when he appears on a battlefield, neither side will win, because no warriors will die. Needless to say, this has created friction with Megatron, who once ordered Glit's forelegs cut off to punish him for treating a wounded Autobot commander. The protests of his fellow Decepticons succeeded in changing their leader's mind." Source

Kix

"As a trained clone trooper medic, Kix believed that when it came to the health of his comrades, he outranked them. Instead of worrying about his enemies, Kix cared more about the welfare and livelihood of his fellow troopers, armed with medpacs and pain stims to help out in any way he could. He held a high sense of honor to his fallen brothers, as shown by him getting angered by and attacking a group of banshees which were feeding off of troopers' corpses." Source

Esther

"a studious girl who follows the rules and tries everything to finally get off the ship, she works super hard to get into the medical school on land" source

This is a newer book so there's not much on her. Here's my own little thing: She's clever but can be super nieve. Paired with her natural stubbornness, that's a recipe for disaster. She's insanely loyal to her family and her life's devotion: medic school. So when she uncovers some nasty secrets, she deals with a lot of internal conflict. She's kind and assumes the best of everyone yet she can hold her own in a fight.

Dena

She can come off as gruff and somewhat mean, but she's got a motherly side to her. She's on the more adventurous/rebellious side, and isn't afraid to voice her opinion even if it's not nice. She encourages the girls to keep their head up, and she boldy faces anything that challenges her.

Not me having some kinda type... Who shall I tag? I think I wanna tagggggg... @mybugsmybugsmybugs @mexicangela @lunar-years @biscuitboxpink but no pressure!! I just thought it would be fun!

[lord-squiggletits]

That scene where Megatron (in his pre-MTMTE bimboification body) is holding his own stealth bomber body in his arms does things to me, it’s so fucked up man.

[talesfromlissom]

File 1

Fandom: Transformers [ Prime ] 

Rating: R

Characters: Optimus Prime, Autobot team

TW: Major Character death, mentons of torture, gore, etc. 

Summary: Optimus doesn’t find a will. He can’t find the time to write you an obituary either. But…while rummaging through your habsuite, he finds something else. 

Rules

Ask Box (Requests are open!)

Optimus buried you next to cliffjumper that night. 

They had received the distress beacon 4 days after you were captured. 

Arcee thought it was a trap. 

Bumble bee was one of the first to suggest going, second to Ratchet. 

They found your mangled corpse instead. Held up by two coils, were your arms should’ve been. Both of your legs missing, one optic lens cracked. The other missing entirely. They saw crusted energon leaking from your mouth. 

Optimus remembers time freezing. Hearing Megatron gloating behind him. 

Then seeing Megatron littered in his own energon, a hand twisted in a way Optimus knew hurt. Optics wide. Not terrified. Intrigued. 

He remembers looking down at his energon stain hands, telling Ratchet that none of it was his when he entered the base. Hearing Miko’s sobbing behind him as he exited the area.

It was too much. Processor swimming. Consumed by you. He knows you died painfully. Knows you died hoping someone would come. 

And in the end, no one did. And you died knowing that. Megatron most likely laughed at you too. He’s had limbs torn off before. Even the most hardened mercs cry out in agony when the act is committed. 

He finds himself in your habsuite his processor going silent after burying you . He stands in the doorway of the room. Staring down at the berth and desk now collecting dust. Nobody has bothered to move your stuff. It’s almost as if you’ve just left for a few moments. To gather energon, go on a scouting missing. A drive. The possibilities are endless at first glance. But Optimus knows the truth. 

He drags himself over to the desk. He should probably leave. Go and do the paperwork he’s supposed to. Distract himself, like he always does. Keeps himself so occupied that his processor doesn’t have time to…process. 

There’s one datapad that catches his eye. It on, and he’s certain it isn’t a normal datapad. The corners are white.

He picks it up, optics widening. 

It’s a videopad. An image of you is plastered on the screen, smiling. Seeming to being rubbing the back of your neck as you idly look off to the floor. 

How he wishes to hear you again. Hear you vent softly next to him, or laugh at one of Ratchet’s sarcastic remarks. 

He knows he should leave. But he clicks the play button anyways. 

“Uh…hey.” Your voice starts, a small fit of static behind your voice. “This is uh…awkward. Speaking my will.” 

You pause, narrowing your gaze at the camera.

“Y’know what, no no. Hang on-“ your hand grabs the video pad and the video stops. 

Optimus clicks the next one. 

“Hi! It’s me again!” You exclaim, a soft smile on your face. “This isn’t a will. More like a…last message I suppose? In case something happened? I saw Perceptor doing it, figured I should too.” 

You grin. 

“I mean, I would hope that I don’t…” you trail off, fiddling with your thumbs and biting your lower lip. “Die. Anyways, this first message is too Perceptor-“ 

You begin to express graditute. Thanking Perceptor for putting up with you, your stubbornness. Shenanigans. Your poorly timed pranks. 

The video ends, and Optimus clicks another. Sitting on the floor next to the desk. 

The this video is taken a few months after the previous. Your frame is slightly different. Bigger more blockier. 

“Uh…hi. Me again” You chuckle. “I’m gonna dedicate this next one to Ironhide-“ 

And off you go again. Thanking Ironhide for being a great mentor, for teaching you to shoot.

And for every video, there’s a message. For everyone you’ve known. 

There’s one for Blurr. Repeating one of the mech’s jokes.

For First Aid. Apologizing for breaking some equipment and promising to buy him energon gummies to make up for it.

A bot he doesn’t recognize the name of, one that you speak fondly of though. Another promise. This one to arm wrestle and purposefully lose. So she’d look good infront of the femme she liked. 

There’s even a message for Megatron; laced in anger and malice. You talk about almost becoming a Decepticon, even going as far as calling Megatron a crankshaft. Stubborn until the end.

Optimus’ finger hovers over the play button, seeing the last message there. The message was recorded almost 2 weeks before you got captured. 

1 week after you two officially got together. 

The video starts with static. 

“Wow, haven’t done this in a while.” You laugh. “Uh…I hope whoever’s watching this doesn’t try to defile my grave or anything but…I’m with Optimus now.”

A pause. 

“There’s a lot about him thst I could talk about. It’d probably take me…an hour to describe everything—“ 

You pause, hearing chatter down the hall. You wait until it dissipate. And then sigh.

“Frag it.” 

And off you go. Your words to describe him are laced with lavender and worship. Words spewing from your mouth like a dying man. Not once do you mention his body. His title. You describe him like he’s a god at an altar. A being of eternal light that walks among mortals. An Angel. He stares in disbelief when you finish with saying; “and his waist is so snatched.”

He has no idea what that means.

“Primus, I love him. I don’t think I’ve loved anybody this much.” You smile bashfully. “I’m so lucky. So damn lucky that a guy like him likes a guy like me.” 

Shouting is heard down the hallway, and you seem to panic. Part of the door opens and Optimus sees a portion of his leg step into the room. 

Optimus is alone in the habsuite again. Staring at the blank wall before him. The videopad dies in his shaking hands. 

But your energy lingers in the room. And Optimus crumbles. 

He feels the coolant sliding down his face before his systems even tell him he’s crying. 

[strangeduckpaper]

TF136: Combiners Pt. 2

Artificial Combiners: Following the loss of the Enigma, an arms race began to create artificial Combiners to supplement Devastator and Computron. The Decepticons held the upper-hand in this matter, with Shockwave’s reverse engineered Combination Core forming the nucleus of Project Black Mamba. But the Autobots would launch their own projects, including systems based off of Devisiun biology & MTO’s made for the purpose. But their true watershed would come with data stolen by a turncoat named Ambulon.

Bruticus (Inactive): The first (successful) result of Black Mamba, Bruticus was comprised of a unit of consummate soldiers, hoping the resulting Combiner would turn out to be the perfect soldier. What they got instead was a lumbering hulk of a ‘Con with more guns than his severely handicapped intelligence could count, little more than a weapon to be aimed. Nevertheless, Bruticus quickly became a threat to rival even Devastator, and the capture and/or elimination of his component ‘cons soon become top priority. A lucky break would result in the capture of Hardtop and the subsequent neutralization of Bruticus as a threat, but there are murmurs of enlisting Hardtop’s Spark brother Swindle as a replacement...

Members: Onslaught, Vortex, Blast Off, Brawl, Hardtop-Swindle

Abominus: Following the success of Bruticus, Shockwave’s attention would turn to the Terrorcons, several beastformers who had joined the Decepticon cause. Just as vicious as Bruticus, but just as unintelligent, Abominus would face off against Computron several times, with the Combiner eventually meeting its end with the death of several of its components.

Members: Hun-Gurr, Rippersnapper, Sinnertwin, Blot, Cutthroat.

Predaking: The combination of two of Shockwave’s experiments, with the component “Predacons” also being the result of reformatting beastformers with Predacon CNA. Though his components would be perfectly competent and loyal warriors, Predaking would prove too “individualistic”, a hunter who would disregard orders in favour of pursuing his own agenda.

Members: Razorclaw, Divebomb, Rampage, Headstrong, Tantrum

Monstructor (Deactivated): An ancient, deactivated Combiner dating back to the Age of Primes, Monstructor would only see one battle during the Great War, a corpse reanimated by the earliest experiments with Dark Energon and promptly embarking on a mindless rampage that required both Autobots and Decepticons to bring it down. The corpse would be captured by the Autobots, and used to further Nexus’ experiments.

Sixturbo (Deactivated): Originally the subject of the Autobots’ Devisiun Combiner project, Sixturbo would achieve a rare unity that would unfortunately result in their defection to the Autobots and shuttering of the Devisiun projects. Unfortunately for them, there defection would not spare them from death in battle.

Menasor: Victorion’s creation came as a severe blow to Decepticon morale, their superiority in the field of Combiners shattered once and for all. In order to counteract this, Shockwave turned to the Stunticons, Velocitronian road bandits with mild delusions of grandeur. These delusions would carry over to the resulting gestalt, a boastful warrior who, while nonetheless formidable, didn’t provide the counterbalance the Decepticons sorely needed.

Members: Motormaster(Torso), Deadend (LArm), Wildrider (LLeg), Drag Strip (RArm), Slashmark (RLeg)-Offroad, Heatseeker, Wildbreak, Breakneck, Breakdown (Formerly)

Megaempress: Still hoping for a counterpart to Victorion, Shockwave would turn to Galvatronia, a decorated and brutal ex-gladiator, alongside her all-femme “Elite Guard”. The resulting Combiner kept her components’ prowress, charisma, and sinister nature, more like an extension of Galvatronia than a true fusion

Members: Galvatronia, Trickdiamond, Flowspade, Lunaclub, Moonheart- Skyjack, Riotgear, Treadshock, Cyberwarp

Liokaiser: Commissioned behind Megatron’s back by Deathsaurus, Liokaiser was comprised of the warlord’s finest non-Predacon warriors. Although somewhat scatterbrained, Liokaiser would serve his leader with distinction until the death of his component Leozack would render him inert. The addition of Leozack’s spark-sister Lyzack would see the Combiner returned to the field.

Members: Leozack (KIA), Drillhorn, Guyhawk, Hellbat, Jallguar, Killbison, Lyzack.

Autobot Combiners

Defensor: Seeking to balance the scales of the war, “Project Nexus” the Autobots’ answer to Black Mamba, would look to Groove, an auxiliary member of Computron, using him and the reverse engineered corpses of Abominus and Monstructor as the basis for a new Combiner. The resulting gestalt would be comprised of Groove’s new unit, a search and rescue outfit known as the Protectobots. Though their individual units were either less than willing or less then capable in combat, Defensor themselves has proven an incredible defender and stalwart champion of the Autobot cause.

Members: Hot Spot(Torso), Rook, Blades, Streetwise, First Aid, Groove- Medix.

Superion: The second successful Autobot Combiner, helped along by Ambulon’s defection and reverse engineering Monstructor’s corpse. Her components are an oddly fractious bunch for a successful Combiner,  carrying both Neutral and Decepticon sympathies, but the gestalt herself is a dedicated and even somewhat cocky warrior, if socially aloof.

Members: Silverbolt, Slingshot, Air Raid, Fireflight, Skydive-Alpha Bravo, Airazor.

Divisiun Combiners: Most of the Autobots’ early successes with Combiners came through exploiting Devisiuns’ natural combination abilities. But in a surprising turn of events, these Devisiun Combiners proved less powerful than their Cybertronian counterparts, unable to equal Bruticus or Predaking, but they found their place nonetheless.

Subjects: Sixtrain (Deactivated, KIA), Sixliner, Sixbuilder, Sixwing (Deactivated), Sixturbo (Defected, KIA)

Landcross: The ultimate culmination of the “Six-Series” Landcross is capable of standing toe-to-toe with their Decepticon counterparts, even with their startling penchant for aggression.

Members: Wing, Waver, Dash, Tacker, Mach, Tackle

Computron V2: Following the recovery of the Enigma of Combination, Computron would find a new lease on life, with several of their former auxiliary bots forming the new gestalt.

Membership: Scattershot, Strafe, Javelin, Flareup, Backstreet, Drillbuster.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke

Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.

Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.

Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.

As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?

Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.

I know, I was surprised too!

There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:

Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?

Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.

A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.

Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?

Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.

Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.

Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.

Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.

Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.

Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.

Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.

Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.

Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—

Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.

Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.

First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?

Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.

Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—

Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.

Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.

Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.

Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.

Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.

You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.

Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.

Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.

What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.

Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.

In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.

CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT

Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.

All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.

With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.

I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?

As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.

Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.

Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.

Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.

Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.

Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.

It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.

Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.

Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.

Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.

Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.

But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.

Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?

Because his name wasn’t on it.

...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.

In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.

As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.

Man, now it really is the Lost Light.

[chronosabyss]

Chapter 1 of Decadence is live!

Summary: Starscream has instated himself as leader of the Decepticons while the Autobots deal with the aftermath of their attempt to take down Megatron. With the chain of command shaky on both ends, it's up to those remaining to pull their teams together to work past hurt feelings and decide which ideals are still worth pursuing. (Rated T for mild violence.) Story will be updated once a week until completed.

Below is a small part of ch 1. You can read the rest on Archive of Our Own. https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850817

---

"Status report?"

 "Same old, same old. A full diagnostic of the ship is still in the works, but I have Breakdown running a complete structural survey as we speak. So far there are a couple of holes here and there, but nothing that needs immediate attention."

 "And the crew?"

 "Although Breakdown is back on his feet, I advised him against any strenuous activity for the next few solar cycles. Soundwave is still absent from the ship, and several troopers found Airachnid immobilized in a back hallway. I had her placed with the others that met a similar fate." Knockout brought up a quick list of numbers on his data-pad. "I've taken a brief stock of the Vehicon soldiers and it seems that while there were 46 injured and 38 frozen, only seven were beyond repair," he announced, eyeing the numbers.

 Starscream raised an eyebrow. "That's good?"

 "You trust my professional opinion don't you?"

 Starscream scoffed. "Apparently it's why I keep you around."

 "Then considering the damage we get on a weekly basis from the Autobots on the ground, we're golden."

 "Right," Starscream said, unimpressed. "Have you had a chance to examine Optimus Prime's condition in cell block three?"

 "With the exception of minor battle damage, he seems relatively healthy. You know, aside from being a living doorstop."

 "How’s the crew taking Megatron's sudden absence?"

 The medic let out an uncertain tone, glancing sideways for a moment. "Eeh, morale could be better. You've got your typical post battle unease. Word's spread of Megatron's demise, but no one's really sure what happened."

 "Good. Let's keep it that way," Starscream finished, starting to turn away.

 Knockout sidestepped around to get in front of him. "Starscream-" Seeing the dirty glare his commander shot him, he hastily corrected himself. "      Lord     Starscream. The whole ship's on edge. Everyone's talking. The more astute bots have even drawn attention to the fact that the Autobots somehow managed to gain access to our ship while it was cloaked, something that I need not remind you should be nigh impossible."

 Starscream narrowed his optics almost threateningly. "It was the scout. Most likely he was using a concealed means of communication to contact the Autobots while he was on board. A tragic oversight, I admit, but nothing more. I've been meaning to gather the troops together to address the recent change in command. I’ll make it a point to bring up at the assembly. Is that all?"

 Knockout hesitated, wary for once at the possibility of pushing Starscream too far when he was already testy. Eventually his curiosity won out. "There is one other thing I wanted to ask you about. At this point most of the ship has been combed over by the casualty crew to gather the downed soldiers for repairs. While there are a few isolated machine levels and storage corners that still haven't been checked, there has still been no sign of our former Lord Megatron's body."

 A brief flash of alarm flitted across Starscream's faceplate which he quickly masked with a more neutral expression. "Do you really think I would have left the corpse out where any common soldier could see?"

 "Alright then. Where did you have it moved?"

 "Well um," Starscream stalled, a bit taken aback. "That's classified information."

 Knockout sighed, shaking his head. "Really Starscream? If you didn't want me privy to such mundane details you shouldn't have made me second in command. How am I to make sure your ship is running ship-shape if I don't even know where our liege's body is stowed? The crew is asking whether or not there is going to be a commemoration in his honor."

 "A commemoration?" Starscream choked.

 "An observance, a memorial, whatever you want to call it," he gestured casually. "It's been nearly a full cycle and someone had to bring it up."

 Starscream turned away, processor churning to come up with a reasonable explanation as he brought up several digits to tap agitatedly at the side of his faceplate. "Tell the crew that his body is too desecrated to be shown. Our liege suffered horrific damage at the hands of the Autobots. He would not have wanted to be seen like that," he finally said, wearing a mixed expression of both sorrow and unease.

 "Fine, but that still leaves the matter of its location," Knockout said in a matter of fact. “As the ship’s chief medical officer, I’d like to perform an autopsy.”

 "I told you, that's classified." Starscream crossed his arms childishly.

 "So what, you're just going to keep Megatron's rusting chassis in your closet?" He held up his servos defensively. "Look, I'm not one to judge, but there are certain health regulations that must be observed when dealing with the disposal and recycling of the deceased."

 "A-are you insinuating that I am keeping the whereabouts of our former Lord's body a secret out of some sort of sick fascination?"

 "I'm only saying that whatever your reasons are, it would be nice to know a roundabout area so I at least know where I should be avoiding."

 Starscream sputtered for a moment in an effort to formulate a retort. Failing to come to any sort of solid reprimand, he reached out and grabbed Knockout roughly by the lower jaw. "Why you-"

 The sound of the door opening made both mechs freeze mid struggle. They looked over to see a dark slender figure standing just inside the doorway, observing them quietly.

 "S- soundwave!" Starscream released his grip on Knockout's face, leaving the medic to shoot him an ugly glare as he rubbed a servo on the affronted area. "What a… nice surprise," he continued through a forced smile, his optic ridges drawn up in a twinge of anxiety. "Where have you been?"

[silkling]

((Here’s a short Drabble I wrote based off @technovalkyrie’s art of Prowl surviving the war and returning to the Dojo. It’s a simple piece, but I hope y’all like it.)) yes I’m aware I posted this yesterday in the form of a repost but that wasn’t how I intended for it to show up on this site. Forgive the mix-up, I’m rather new to Tumblr and still learning how it all works.

Prowl had been surprised to wake up. He’d come to in what he recognized as a Cybertronian medical bay, thoroughly confused as he stared at the worried faces of his team above him. Upon noticing his awakening, they’d swarmed him. He hadn’t understood a word of the tearful nonsense they’d spoken at him, as they’d all spoken over each other (or rather, Bumblebee had spoken over everyone else and his volume had made it impossible to hear the others). In the end, it had been Jazz who’d shooed the others out, then explain in hushed tones what had happened.

Apparently, after Prowl had given his spark to reform the All Spark, his team had managed to successfully defeat the Decepticons. When Jazz had carried his grayed frame back, Sari had refused to accept it. They’d brought the All Spark to him, and somehow she had managed to manipulate its energy to bring him back. It was all very confusing, but the best anyone could figure was that, since she had been the guardian if the Key, which the All Spark had gifted her in the first place, she had somehow become the guardian of the All Spark itself upon the loss of the Key. It was all apparently still very confusing and there were lots of unknowns about the situation, but it was generally accepted that Sari was somehow connected to the All Spark and able to sync with and use its energy in times of need.

After that had been explained to him, Jazz shared another bombshell. One of Master Yoketron’s cohorts, a mech named Dai Atlas, had seen to the repair of the old Dojo. More than that, in the wreckage, they’d found documentation from Yoketron stating that Prowl was the inheritor, and thus the next Master, of the Dojo, and by extension the next Master of the cyber-ninja corpse. It was...a lot. He’d known that his Master intended for him to become the next Dojo Master, of course. Yoketron himself had told him as much. But he hadn’t ever realized just what becoming the next Dojo Master actually entailed. Still, as overwhelming as it was, he wasn’t opposed. If anything, he was even more honored and humbled by his late mentor’s faith in him.

As soon as he had been released, Prowl had returned to the Dojo. It had indeed been repaired, though it obviously hadn’t been used. So, he had spent several days, with Jazz’s help, cleaning the place up and adding his own personal touch. That included organic plants traded from other plants, of course, because Prowl refused to live in a place with no organic life. After that, he’d taken to the streets, mind turning over the course his life had taken. There would be a celebration that night, to honor the team that had defeated the Decepticons and brought the war to and end. It had included him, and he had gone along with it for the sake of his small make-shift family. But then it was over, and the next day he was back to the streets. Specifically, he found himself wandering the same streets he had used to call home before he’d been caught and delivered to Master Yoketron.

And that was where he met Bluestreak. The little bitlet was barely more than a youngling, and for a second when Prowl laid his eyes on the smaller Praxian he’d had a vivid flashback to when he’d been younger and in the same position. The cyber-ninja had found himself crouched, an energon cube in hand held out the the frightened child. It had taken some coaxing, but then the youngling had snatched the cube, and apparently deciding that Prowl was a “good adult” and darted in the press close. He’d gulped down the energon desperately, introducing himself around a mumbled mouthful, and that was when Prowl made his decision.

He’d offered Bluestreak a chance to become his student at the Dojo. After he’d explained what that meant and all it entailed, the youngling had flung his arms around Prowl and agreed with tearful eagerness. Prowl pretended not to notice the way he was practically shaking with relief. It was on the way back to the Dojo that Prowl had learned Blustreak’s story. He’d been orphaned in an attack on one of the colonies, shortly after Decepticon activity had picked up after Megatron’s revival. He’d snuck on a transport to Cybertron, hoping to find help, but had been turned away at every corner. At the Dojo, Prowl had sent him off to the wash racks to clean, then sat him down to eat dinner with him, before showing him to his berthroom. The youngling had given him one last hug before retiring to recharge.

Now, it was a few months later. Prowl found himself wandering through the main hall of the Dojo, remembering the many, many days and nights he’d spent here as a younger bot. His expression was soft and fond, but also twisted ever so slightly in pain. He had good memories here, beloved memories, but the loss of his Master had always tainted then with a faint aura of pain. Now, he supposed he had the chance to make new memories. This time though, he would be the one helping the lost youngling find his way. It was..a good thought. Bluestreak was far more tactile and personable than Prowl ever was, and likely ever would be, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He had already found himself adjusting to his student’s need for physical touch, and the Praxian’s sometimes endless chatter never failed to remind Prowl (fondly) of Bumblebee. It was good. Life was good, now. For once, he was at peace, and truly happy.

He heard movement outside the main room, just before a small helm poked inside. “Master Prowl? Isn’t it time for breakfast? Unless you have something new to show me first, which I wouldn’t mind! Everything you teach me is so cool, and I learn a lot, and it’s great here! Though, didn’t you say it’s not a good idea to do anything more intense than stretches before fueling in the morning? Is that what we’re doing? I really am hungry, and I wouldn’t mind-”

Prowl let the youngling’s chatter wash over him, walking over and gesturing his student to follow him as he led the way to the kitchen. “Why don’t you help me prepare our morning fuel?” Was all he said in response, and instantly an eager youngling was at his side to soak in what he was doing.

Yes, Prowl thought. This is good. This is where I’m meant to be.

[starprin101]

Soundscream Week

Day 2: Compromise

Doors opened with a whirr and a pair of heels clicked against the floor toward the hulking mass currently unconscious on the slab. He leaned forward and tapped his head with a claw.

"Hello~" Starscream cooed. "Anyone in there?~" He tapped again, harder, and waited for the response he knew would never come. And as predicted, there was only silence. Nothing but the beeping and whirring of machinery wasting their time on what may as well be a corpse.

"Hm. Such a shame. All that potential wasted." He stepped back and dragged his optics along Megatron's body. His plating sparkled where the light hit it, Breakdown- or Knockout, whichever- did a fine job.

"You know, you could have been a great leader. No, really, I'm serious! It's just your ideas, your goals..." He walked around to the monitors surrounding them. "Well, your ideas and goals, that inspired so many to join you, were replaced by your overwhelming need to have all the power the galaxy had to offer, and using it against Prime." He had no idea what they meant, but he understood that when the lines stopped making the patterns they were doing now, it was a very bad sign. "It overshadowed your original inspiration, and turned you into a megalomaniac."

He glanced at the once great, brave, beacon of freedom, who was now laying in stasis lock because of his own stupidity and greed. He sighed, like he was disappointed.

"I really don't see what he sees. Not anymore." He paced to the centre of the room. "Why is Soundwave still so unwaveringly loyal to you after all this time, after everything you've done! Why does he still blindly follow you after four million years of madness and needless chaos!" He spun around and glared at him. Megatron still hadn't moved. Not that he would anytime soon.

He sighed again and stepped closer. "And your condition. Why is he so convinced you'll come back. It's obvious you won't. He's only delaying the inevitable." He circled a digit around the cord in his chassis. The one keeping his spark stable.

"It must be so embarrassing to look so weak and vulnerable." He wrapped his servo around it. "Allow me to volunteer in this final act of loyalty and respect, and put you out of your misery." And with a harsh tug, the cord popped off.

The effect was immediate. Those lines broke their pattern and shot around wildly. Warnings popped up all over the monitors and a wild beeping was blaring from somewhere. He watched the situation unravel itself with a small smile, but it fell when a stray thought entered his head.

Soundwave won't like this.

Soundwave will be distraught when he finds out.

It was common knowledge that Megatron and Soundwave fought together in the Pits, and he managed to convince him to join his cause. That begged the question; how? What did he do to initiate such undivided loyalty? Starscream's theory was that he promised him something, which could be why he's so hellbent on keeping Megatron alive, but what could it be? What could be so valuable to Soundwave?

Whatever it was, Starscream could give it to him. When he becomes leader of the Decepticons, he can give him whatever he was promised. And maybe more.

He and Soundwave had been getting along quite well recently. After that first flying session, Soundwave followed him on a lot more. He wasn't sure why he had to sneak on him instead of just ask, so he decided to do that instead. He walked up to Soundwave and asked straight up if he wanted to join him. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, he said yes and off they went. Eventually, somehow, they even made a time set in their schedules dedicated specifically for flying together.

He wouldn't say he was enjoying himself, of course not. This was all just to gain Soundwave's trust. And this seemed to be the only time he could make any progress.

But...

There were some times while flying, where everything became still and they just stared at each other. It was a quiet moment where all of his stress, and all his responsibilities and anxiety would just melt away, and he'd feel something he'd never experienced with anyone else. Maybe it was general curiosity? Did Soundwave feel it too? Maybe it was just a moment of mutual understanding-

Why is he thinking so much about Soundwave? Why does he care what Soundwave thinks or wants? This isn't about him. This is about ending Megatron's rein of power! This is about being better than Megatron. He shook his head violently and shuttered his optics, and focused on the wonderful sound of a spark failing and doors closing-

... doors... closing... not opening- closing.

He turned around, cord in hand, and froze.

"Soundwave!" He shrieked. Within a blink of an eye, said bot snatched the cord and pushed him to the side. He plugged it back in and Megatron's vitals returned to normal. A moment of silence, the calm before the storm, and the TIC turned to him.

Starscream momentarily panicked, but he had a plan for the possibility of this happening.

"S-Soundwave! I'm so glad you came when you did! I came in and saw the cord just hanging there- I think Knockout did it on purpose- and I was trying to-" A force slammed him into a wall and he slid down.

Well, it was worth a shot.

Looking up, he observed Soundwave towering over him with those tentacles of his out and waving dangerously. He was very clearly not happy, he concluded.

"N-now Soundwave! I understand you're upset right now! what for trying to kill our great leader, a-and also, possibly, for the incident-" he paused.

Why did he mention that.

Why the FRAG did he mention that.

Immediately Soundwave froze, tentacles still in the air, his joints visibly tensed.

Oh Primus. Oh Primus oh Primus oh Primus oh Primus oh Primus he just made a mistake he made a very bad mistake this is it this is how he goes and he couldn't even make a grand speech about it-

He forced himself to calm down. He can fix this. He can get himself out of this. He's fine. He's talked Megatron out of killing him he can absolutely do this. He just needed to think fast.

"- b-but how about we calm down, and handle this like civilized bots? P-perhaps we can reach a compromise?" He offered, unsure the TIC would even consider it. He, however, didn't move at all, so Starscream slowly stood up and continued.

"How about this: I no longer make attempts at killing Megatron, and to be nice I can throw in a favour for you as well, but you have to do a favour for me." They looked into each other's eyes and visor, and he held out his servo. "Do we have a deal?"

Soundwave made no notion of grabbing it or pulling away. Starscream's spark sped up in fear. Perhaps he's too mad and will just end up ripping his arm off.

A few more still seconds and he considered putting his hand down instead because he felt stupid standing like this. But then Soundwave took his hand and squeezed it, almost enough to break it, then promptly turned around and left.

Starscream was left in the room with the bot he just tried to kill staring at the place where the bot that was just about to kill him was once standing.

I'd say he handled that pretty well.

[aqua-the-smiter]

Wind Guide You

Chapter 2 - The Runaway

Arcee was just out for a walk. That’s all.

Why couldn’t she ever catch a break?

Her peds crunched along the gravelly ground and her servos were clasped behind her back as she slowly trudged forward, going nowhere in particular, just out to clear her processor. The land was barren and surrounded by cliffs and ridges, and the sky was overcast, swathed in a blanket of grey clouds that took away most of the shadows. It was calm if a bit gloomy, and the wind whispered over the ground, occasionally flicking pebbles.

The two-wheeler guessed it was just one of those days where everything was dull and a bit slow. She could tell some of the other ‘bots felt it as well, and seeing as there were no present emergencies to tend to, she’d come out here. Partially for some peace, partially just because she wanted to be alone, and (though she’d never admit it out loud) she still felt a need deep in her spark to silently mourn Cliffjumper.  

Maybe it was silly. Maybe she should have gotten over it by now. She had, somewhat, but something in her still ached everything she thought of him. Thus, she took small chunks of her time every day to grieve, and it slowly minimized her pain by degrees, bit by bit. It helped.

What didn’t, however, was finding a Decepticon passed out among the stones.

“What in the  Pit? ” Arcee asked herself out loud, staring down at the dull silver chassis of Megatron’s right servo bot.

Starscream.

At first she thought he was dead. He was lying as still as the rocks he was surrounded by, but as she watched him, she noticed like bits of movement: a wing flicking, a digit scraping, a ped twitching. No, he was still among the living, unfortunately.

She stood frozen, staring at the motionless form of the seeker, the very ‘Con who had murdered the bot she was out here mourning. Her spark clenched in anger, and she let one of her servos turn into a blaster before backing up and lowering her arm, trying to calm herself. It would be stupid to just shoot him right off the bat.

  Think, Arcee.

Primus, she wanted to just shoot him in the faceplates and be done with it. He was the reason Cliff was gone, and he’d put them through so much grief besides that, both on Earth and off. Her spark seethed, even the small bit of pity she held for him not enough to quench her desire to pay him the same mercy he’d paid Cliff; that meant none at all.

She took a better look at him. He looked...ragged. Worn out, like he’d been flying solo for a while, the kind of wear that couldn’t be faked. Her optics widened when they landed on his chest plate. The Decepticon insignia was gone, and in its place were scratches. She thought hard. How long ago had their last battle with the ‘Cons been?

Somehow, by some miracle, Starscream had defected between the aftermath of then and now. What else could it be? Maybe a trap, but something like this wasn’t Megatron’s style. Sure, he could’ve been kicked out, but if he had been, most likely, if she even found him, he’d be a corpse. He decidedly was  not  that.

She sat next to his still chassis, thinking. What to do with a possibility renegade ‘con? Primus, her luck was shoddy.

She was oblivious to how long she’d been there, feeling the cold breeze over her chassis, listening to it howl between the empty places in the rocks. Starscream did nothing more than twitch.

  What to do, what to do?

It would be easiest to just terminate his aft right there, pull the thorn that was him out of their collective sides right away. Nearly all of her  wanted  to, and yet...that little drop of pity still yanked at the edge of her processor. She didn’t know exactly why, but something about the ‘Con just made her feel bad for him. Maybe it was the desperate way he vied for Megatron’s favor, maybe it was the fact he was always getting whacked in the ankles every time something was going right, or maybe it was just that he was excellent at making  that  particular sad face. There was something just...pathetic about him, and she granted him a bit of mercy for it.

  Wait…

Call Prime. Of course, the simplest solutions were often the best, and she berated herself for not having thought of it sooner. It should have been the first thing that sprung to mind.

Maybe she was still much angrier about Cliffjumper than she thought.

-Optimus, it’s Arcee.- she said over her comms.

-We were just starting to get worried about you.-  came the reply of his usual firm but kind tone.  -Where have you been for so long?-

-Like I said, just out for a walk. You’ll never believe who I found.- she baited, her voice unintentionally taking on the same excited tone as Miko’s whenever Wheeljack came around.

-Did you run into trouble? If you've found an energon mine, come back, don’t try and clear it yourself.- Prime warned, sounding for all the worlds like a gently chiding father.

-That was  one time  , I’m  fine. I didn’t go out looking for trouble, it found me, in the form of Starscream. He’s recharging on the ground right next to me, all dinged up. What do you want me to do with him?-  she asked, getting straight to the point, and trying not to sound too willing to offline him.

-Starscream?-  The Prime paused, just a little bit alarmed  -Are you sure he’s alone? Is there anything off about him?-

-He scratched his insignia off his chest. Just a bunch of claw marks there now. It looks like he’s defected. He’s definitely still alive.- Arcee confirmed.

-Scratched the insignia off his chest.- Optimus repeated slowly, the gears in his processor whirling. That sounded like a sure sign of defection. Was it too much to hope for? He has long since seen potential in bringing Starscream over to the Autobots, and now might be his chance.  -Give me your coordinates and wait there with him. I’ll meet you there.-

-Personally?-  Arcee asked in surprise.  -Are you sure?-

  -I’m sure. Don’t worry, I won’t come alone.-

-Alright.- She relented, berating herself. This was Optimus Prime. There was nothing to worry about.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The familiar green spirals of the groundbridge gave way to the figures of Prime, Ratchet and Bulkhead. Arcee rose to her peds when she saw them, raising an arm in greeting. Starscream still rested next to her, optics firmly offlined. She resisted the urge to give him a swift kick and ran over to her comrades.

   “Hey ‘Cee!” Bulkhead called to her. “Where’d you dig up Screamer?”

  “He was on the floor when I got here.” Arcee replied, hands on her hips as the four of them made their way over to the recharging seeker. She nudged him with the toe of her ped as the others looked on. “And if you’ll look to your right you’ll see the Decepticon’s possible ex-commander, passed out cold.” she gestured to him with a servo.

  “He looks like a Predacon chewed him.” Ratchet said, eyeing him warily. “Probably been on his own for a while now. Almost definitely has an energon deficiency.”

   “You can tell all that from looking at him?” Arcee questioned, raising an optic ridge.

  “More or less. I’ve been at this for a long time, you know.” Ratchet said, his tone implying a lecture if this conversation kept rolling

   “So...what are we going to do with him? We can’t just leave old Screamer here, can we?” Bulkhead asked.

   “Who says we can’t?” Arcee spat. “If we take him with us, he becomes even more of our problem then he already is.”

   “We’re not leaving him.” Optimus interjected, his voice having an air of finality.

   “Why?!” Arcee exclaimed, failing to tamp down her anger. “What could we possibly do with  Starscream of all bots?!”

  Optimus gave her one of his looks that could possibly make even Unicron himself feel guilty. “We could help him, make him one of us. Show him the mercy he was never granted from Megatron.”

   “And that he never granted Cliffjumper!”

  “If we pull him to us, he’ll never be in a position to do what he did to Cliffjumper again.” he replied coolly. Arcee said nothing, just crossed her arms and turned away.

   There was no argument after that. Optimus was determined, and he made a good point. They brought Starscream to the base, dragging him home like an abandoned kitten found on the side of the road.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Starscream’s red optics flew open and were greeted to complete darkness and silence. He felt strange, and it took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t hallucinating or shaking from energon starvation anymore. That should have been comforting, but it only shot him through with fear. Someone had gone through some effort to take care of him. Had Megatron found him? Was he back in the belly of the Pit that was the Nemesis?

His head whipped back and forth trying to get some kind of grip on his surroundings but it was black as pitch. He tried to sit up, but his wrists and ankles were tied down to the berth. Megatron must have found him when he collapsed, there was no other explanation. He was probably thinking up some new, horrifically creative way to ensure his loyalty, or wanted him for some nightmarish way to end his life. His spark was hammering inside it’s chamber.

His bonds wouldn’t break no matter how hard he strained at them, but that could possibly be because he was too weakened after so much time alone and with no energon. He felt his optics well up with washer fluid as his spark pounded, so loud in his audials he would’ve sworn anyone outside this...place could hear it writhing in his chest as he started to shake and quiver.

An audial-splitting shriek tore from his voice box as he tried to tear free of his bonds, his back arching as he struggled.  

He couldn’t do this again.

[weaimtomaim]

☠️

Send me a ‘☠’, for a drabble about how my muse would react to finding yours dead.

... You have 1 new message

Hey. So we found our Megatron. Everything’s good I think? Well most things are. He didn’t lock us up again or anything so that’s nice.

I think you know by now I’m not good at this kinda thing so.

We can’t be in contact anymore. With you being neutral and also dealing with Autobots, liability and fraternization blah blah... yeah.

So I guess that’s it. If we’re not dead by the end of all this, let’s go get a drink. And maybe set the bar on fire. It’ll be fun, promise.

And if I do end up dead (because let’s be honest that’s probably what’ll happen) then... I dunno. It was good knowing you? Rotary frames are rare and you weren’t one of the annoying ones. 

Finally.

Finally things were starting to make sense again. They found their Decepticon comrades, the high command, Megatron… the weight of not knowing what the future held for them was lifted. Now they had direction again; they could fight with the support of the Decepticon army backing them. Things were how they were supposed to be.

They were meeting with Megatron. Their submitted logs and call transcripts had been poured over for any useful information and cross referenced with what the Decepticons had already. Some of what they’d submitted didn’t paint them in the best light. Though they didn’t show it outwardly, an anxious feeling drifted between their gestalt bond as they’d waited for their audience with Megatron.

Fortunately, it was going rather well. No accusations of treasonous behavior or declarations of them no longer being of use to him. “While this multiverse has made our operations more difficult at times, we will continue as normal unless we are forced to change trajectory.” Megatron’s commanding presence certainly hadn’t diminished in their absence. “The Autobots from our dimension are the priority, but any who should cross your path are to be met with lethal force.”

Vortex rolled his optics to himself. Dead mechs didn’t make for good interrogation subjects. Not that Megatron had utilized those skills of his for a while now. It was usually Bruticus he wanted. Which, fair enough; the guy was an 80ft tall war machine that could level cities. 

“And what of any neutrals?” Onslaught asked. “They’re quite numerous here.”

Megatron waved a hand. “They are of no consequence unless they are Autobot sympathizers, in which case I expect them to receive the same treatment those they adulate would get should you come upon them.”

Onslaught bowed his head, “Of course, Lord Megatron.”

This was so boring. Tailing an Autobot was bad enough and having to do it with Blast Off didn’t improve the experience. Vortex had been eager to test out the cloaking device Swindle gave him specifically for this mission (even if it was reminiscent of the one Starscream had, ugh), but he didn’t think he’d be using it to hunker behind some rocks while they waited for the Autobot’s rendezvous to show up.

They’d better hurry up though, because the cloak didn’t last forever and even a flicker could draw attention to himself. Somewhere on a clifftop above and behind him (and with the much better hiding spot) was Blast Off, prepared to provide cover fire in case things went south.

It would be sorely needed if a fight broke out. The sparse rock formations could hardly be considered suitable cover and the pathetic excuse for foliage wasn’t even worth mentioning. 

The air began to displace not far from where the Autobot stood, drawing both their and Vortex’s attention. An unnatural light cast a green glow across the vicinity. A swirl of color grew until it became a tunnel large enough for most mechs to fit through and coughed up what had to be the second person of interest.

The portal closed and Vortex tried to get a better look as well as listen in on what the two were saying. Rotary frame, green and grey, visor, mask… they looked familiar.

Way too familiar. That was definitely Blackguard. The Blackguard he hadn’t spoken to for months now, maybe longer. The Blackguard that was a neutral and currently seemed to be on good terms with at least one Autobot.

And of course, because things always went from bad to worse whenever the Combaticons were involved, the cloak began to fade. So there stood the copter, only half hidden, his color scheme definitely not doing him any favors in this environment. Before Vortex could even consider his next course of action, he saw both Blackguard and the Autobot turn to look his direction, and the decision was made for him.

The Autobot had their gun trained on him in an instant. Blackguard was hesitating. Fine by him, just made this easier.

Vortex brought both arms up to shield himself best he could from the incoming gunfire. A shot from Blast Off flew by overhead and hits its mark, dropping the Autobot in one go. With that taken care of, he stepped out of his hiding spot. Vortex skirted around the fresh corpse and rose back to his full height. And was face to face with Blackguard.

She sputtered for a moment, like her processor had only just managed to connect the dots that her optics were seeing. He could tell she said something– his name? Doesn’t matter. Don’t listen. Don’t think about it.

Weapon pointed at her spark chamber. All he had to do was shoot.

He hesitated.

Did he have to kill her?

That thought immediately triggered a sharp pain in the back of his head that turned into an icy chill as it traveled down his back. A voice admonished him. Go against direct orders from Megatron? Are you crazy? Do you want to get locked up again?

No, not that, anything but that place again–

Another voice filled his head, ::Vortex! Either shoot or move, but don’t freeze!::

Then Blackguard spoke again. This time Vortex heard her. “Vortex, it’s me. You know me, I’m not a fighter. Just– let’s just take a step back–”

You know what you have to do.

Vortex snarled, “Shut up!” He took the shot.

The immediate aftermath was a blur. Something that sounded like strained words came from Blackguard. Then she was down on one knee, clutching at her chest. Another shot rang out and Vortex didn’t know who it came from. That had been enough to make Blackguard crumple the rest of the way to the ground.

And then there was silence.

Vortex didn’t move. He stared down at Blackguard. The energon pooling from her wounds spread across the ground and began to mix with the Autobot’s. He told himself this was to be expected. They were in the middle of a war; people died all the time. It was inevitable that some of them would be ones you knew.

But it’d never been a friend before. And not by his own hand.

Not many people tolerated Vortex, and even fewer actively liked having him around. Blackguard had been one of those people.

And now she was dead.

Somehow Blast Off was next to him, grabbing him roughly by the arm and starting to physically drag Vortex away. “That’ll be us if we continue to stick around. The Autobot was calling for backup, we need to leave. Can you fly?” There was something in his voice that almost sounded like concern.

Vortex continued to stare at Blackguard’s form as he was pulled away, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real. He realized Blast Off was expecting an answer and nodded his head.

“Then transform and let’s get out of here.” Blast Off relinquished his grip and took his own advice. Vortex’s body seemed to move of its own accord and he soon found himself following suit and speeding away from the scene.

[skyfallofcybertron-blog]

Transformers Skyfall: Chapter 4. Blackbird.

It was a mistake. It was all a slagging mistake. We had fallen into a Autobot trap. We were starving and the Autobots knew that. The energon caste that Night Glide was sent to investigate was just a fake hotspot. There was no way we could have known. Not without proper equipment, but by this point, most of the Generals had pulled out to distant planets. Leaving those left behind to fend for themselves.

Both Night Glide and I were stationed on a warship at the time; The Covenant. Our head officers ditched us on Megatron’s orders to chase Team Prime across space. Along with most of our good equipment and resources. Leaving only a servo of us with enough processing power to protect the ship. We suddenly became officers over a few hundred vechicon drones. A few hundred hungry mouths to feed.

Night Glide crashed. Hard.

I still remember the grinding sound of plating being scraped across the ground. The twisted wreck of metal that he became. Somehow, I summoned the strength in my tiny body to drag him out of the crash sight and into a open sewer grate. I can remember, clear as a Vos morning, the whirl of a heavy helicopter making passes trying to find us. The loud chop, chop, chop.

I wasn’t faring any better myself. I wasn’t deployed at the time. The missile that the copter hit Night Glide with managed to dislodge me as well. I didn’t crash nearly spectacularly as my carrier, but the side of my helm became ragged and torn. My built-in equipment for linking us to The Covenant was now part of the sidewalk above us. Didn’t stop me from trying though.

“Communications Officer Skyfall...to Decepticon warship Covenant...Can you read me, Covenant?” I breathed into what was left of my comm. system; a few loose wires and a shattered vidscreen, “Energon cache; Autobot ambush...Requesting immediate evac... First Lieutenant Night Glide down….Repeat; First Lieutenant Night Glide down…”

My optics wondered to my carrier’s shallow intakes. To the cracked windscreen of his cockpit. The sizable hole blown right through his narrow waist that now leaked energon into the sour fluid below us. The Autobot copter wasn’t slagging around. Hit Night Glide center mass; right dead target. A little higher up that missile would have gone right through his fuel pump. Killing me in the process.

“Covenant...can you hear me…?” I pleaded.

All I got was static. I started ripping wires out of my helm as I scooted over to the Seeker. His optics flickered online as I carefully inspected his helm. He muttered something, but my audios were ringing. I quickly tossed the broken piece aside. It probably wasn’t pleasant for Night Glide, but my small servos removed his to implant it in mine. I whimpered apologizes the entire time.

The copter made another pass. I froze in my place. Holding my intakes until I was more then sure they were gone, before returning to my work. At least, I could hear them now. Thank Shockwave and his horror show; I could tell how far the Autobot was out and that she wasn’t alone. I had about two clicks to work on this.

“You need..to get out of here…” Night Glide whispered.

I ripped off my arm casing; fiddling with my secondary weapons to disable the electricity. The weapon heated up red hot quickly. Then I twisted two wires together. I looked down at Night Glide.

“And you need to shut up…”

“The Autobots…”

I fitted the casing on top of the hole on Night Glide’s side.

“Will find the both of us, if you don’t shut up...right now…”

I’m not a medibot, but beggars can’t be choosers. I needed to patch up Glide. I wasn’t going to let another one of my carriers abandon me. I wasn’t going to watch another one die. We had to make a little noise. I transformed my free servo to my built in taser and began to melt him close. Night Glide took it like a champ and clamped down hard on his glossa; muffling himself as much as he possibly could. That did quicken the Autobots search.

One click left. Time to pull something from my aft.

I messed with more wires than I knew that was in the both of us. Sticking them together. Pulling things apart. Testing. Retesting. The static in my audio became clearer. The Covenant was trying to get a hold of us. I could almost hear them. I could hear the Autobots better. They were in the sewers now. I stood on wobbly legs to get better reception; hooked up to Night Glide as my receiver.

“Com-Sky-all...R-peat...Ov-r…”

“This is Communications Officer Skyfall to Decepticon warship Covenant. Requesting immediate evac. First Lieutenant Night Glide down. Autobot squad almost on top of us.”

“We hear you, Officer.”

I never thought I would be so happy to hear Starscream’s voice. The tunnel lit up with the echoes of Seeker engines. The floor underneath us shook with cannon fire. I toppled over trying to gain my footing, only to have Night Glide catch me in his arms. He held me against his broken and bloodied chassis. I shuttered my optics as listened to Starscream gloat and Skywarp cackle in manic delight.

“...Sing for me…?” Night Glide requested weakly.

I hadn't sung in years, but I used too. It was something I was originally built for. I was part Singer after all, but I stopped singing after I was sold to Swindle. I found that it hurt too much to do so.

Yet, when Night Glide asked so quietly, I didn't give it much of a second thought.

I sang an old Vosian migration song. Something that Seekers used to sing to keep themselves in formation. Also to find those that were lost from the trine. I have no idea why I picked that off all things. I'm sure Night Glide could barely hear me over the chaos of battle. It didn't seem right to ask.

Starscream and his trine found us eventually. After they blew the Autobots sky high. Out of the three, Skywarp wore his horror the most outwardly. Both Thundercracker, and to my surprise, Starscream, where eerily silent looking the two of us over. We were a mess of scrap, wiring and energon.

They couldn't get us separated. Thundercracker had to carry both Night Glide and I through Skywarp’s warpbridge (I can still see the purple Seeker’s grin in my mind over his scraping pun). The three Air Commanders were appalled over the condition of ship. There was one thing that I’ve learned about Seekers; they will destroy any bot that harms one of their own. The original commanding officers of The Convenant where striped from their positions. Personally dealt with Starscream’s trine. Thundercracker took command of the ship afterwards.

It took our medic Echo hours to finally untangle me from my carrier. Both of us got kudos for trying to save our crew and team. Night Glide got promoted. Minicons didn’t, but I now had the Decepticon elite watch my every move. It wasn’t often to have a Deployer jerry rig a communications system out of their own (and carrier’s) haft dead corpses. Some called me insane. Others called me resourceful. I would have called myself frightened, desperate and wanting to survive.

Perhaps that’s why I landed this job in Immigration. Perhaps, somebot read my file, saw the information on that day and threw me in with the big bots. Or maybe it was a P.R. stunt; hiring a former Decepticon as a sign of good faith. Primus only knows. I was happy to be here. Happy to be alive and useful to so many.

One of those was Cityspeaker Windblade. The city was literally built on the back of a titan. Poor Metroplex was wounded during the Exodus. He never managed to leave the planet with the rest of his colossal brothers; trapped forever in his alt. mode. The Camiens learned the titans’ ancient language. So, in turn, Windblade came to Cybertron to speak for Metroplex. I was assigned to assist her in this. On top of everything else I did. The Autobots may have won the War, but it didn’t stop them from being paranoid about letting their secrets out.

“Good morning, Cityspeaker.” I addressed the scarlet femme and her bodyguard, Chromia.

“As to you, Skyfall.” Windblade smiled softly, “Are you my little shadow today?”

“Afraid so, ma’am.”

Chromia hummed softly, “Still not giving up the keys to the city, huh?”

I couldn’t help, but to fidget. Chromia did slightly intimidate me. I did see her train with Fireworks once and she was brutal with an axe.

“Sadly no, I’m afraid. Not yet at least.”

Chromia smirked, “Yeah, it’s not your fault, kid.”

“You’re going above and beyond to help.” Windblade reinsured.

I felt my wings perk up slightly with the compliment.

We started making our way down. Down, down, down. Pass all kinds of security and checkpoints and locked doors. Picking up our own security in the form of Ironhide (the Autobots where ever so careful). Into the very center of the core of the city. Where Metroplex’s mind laid.

Windblade beamed upon reaching the chamber where Metroplex’s brain module powered away, keeping the city up and running. He controlled everything; power for the towers, the lights in the streets, water, sewage, everything. The city was him. It was Windblade’s job to keep him happy and healthy. My job was to make sure she didn't tamper with him.

Biolight vidscreens popped up all over his cerebral cortex. He was greeting us as best he could without a functioning voice box. Windblade smiled as she read his messages.

“Good morning to you as well, Metroplex.” She said, “You are ready to start?”

I broke away from the little group to set up my workstation. I wasn't a skilled mechanic like Ironhide or I couldn't read titan like Windblade and Chromia. The only glyphs I was familiar with was the ones that Windblade pointed out. Which was our names and ‘hello’. So, I wasn't going to be much help. Other then answering questions, of course. These days where a good day to catch up on my emails and read reports.

I was pulled out of my reading when I heard Windblade chuckle softly.

“Alright, I'll ask her… Skyfall?”

Like on cue, I lowered my datapad and perked at the sound of my name.

“Yes, Cityspeaker?”

“Metroplex wants to know what you were singing. He remembers it, but can't place the name of it.”

“Um, oh,” It was like getting caught with my plating off. I didn't even realize I had started singing to myself while working. “I-It's the hymn of Juno the Skold.”

I found myself playing with my database nervously, being caught under Metroplex’s curiosity. If I was small compared to most Cybertronians, I was a speck to the titan. A tiny star among a vast cosmos. I shyly hide behind my screen.

“If it's bothering him, Windblade, I can stop.”

“On the contrary, Metroplex wants you to sing louder. He's enjoying it. He didn't think people would remember such old tunes.”

My wings twitched in surprise, “R-Really? He likes it?”

The Cityspeaker smiled with a nod. I nodded back. Windblade’s smile was contagious. I went back to my work and I sang.

[falloutstasis]

Her World in Her Hands

note: uh fair warning things are going to get pretty ansty and sad haha. this takes place a day before the trail of megatron for reasons you’ll see in this fic.

"Trauma is an unrelenting beast. It never quite leaves our side. But that doesn't mean we owe it a damn thing."

After declaring herself being neutral, giving her Autobot Elite Guard sigil to Jazz rather than her sire. If there was anyone she trusted the most other than Prowl, it was him. She had already made up her mind about quitting the Elite Guard and as an Autobot.

"You sure about this, Sol?" Jazz asked, after pulling her aside so he can talk to her privately.

"Yeah." Even though her tone of voice was sad, but she was completely certain of her decision.

"You wanna fill me in on why?" Jazz asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

Solar looked away. "I've been having this feeling for a while. But, I feel like I never belonged in the Elite Guard. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I can be stronger and actually help other bots. That my training with Yoketron and at the Autobot Boot Camp wasn't for nothing. It's obvious that's not true."

"Hey." Jazz placed a hand on her shoulder pate. "I hope this isn't leading to you blaming yourself for Prowl's death."

Solar didn't respond and continued to look at her feet.

"There's no way any of this is your fault and you know it. If Prowl were here, we would say the same thing."

Instead of lashing out in anger, she spoke with the same tone of voice she had earlier. "You're right. 'You did the best that you could have done' is would he would say. But that doesn't mean the feeling still doesn't linger around my processor."

Even though Optimus has known Solar for a short while, after all he just meet her on the final battle on Detroit. But he asked his team to give her some space, since she was the one taking this the hardest. Jazz, however, was worried about her the minute she was given her space. And as any good friend would do, he would check up on her once a day to make sure she was doing alright.

Cybertron Cyber Ninja Dojo Night time

She knew her way to the Cyber Ninja Dojo like the back of her servo. She always did. Who was keeping watch of the dojo and who was working there. Nowadays, it was Dai Atlas, who somehow got stuck to cleaning the dojo as well as training a young ninja bot, Drift. For the life of Solar, she didn’t know why he kept cleaning the place if it made him miserable all the time.

Using the cloak trick she learned from her former sensei, Dai Atlas never saw her coming when he led himself out of the dojo, turning off the lights on his way. When the doors opened, she walked right in and waited until it closed behind her. Solar turned the lights back on when the door closed the second time.

The minute she turned to look in front of her, she felt her spark jump out of her chest plate.

Prowl.

There he is. His coffin standing upward and his lifeless, colorless frame facing her. The mix of sadness and fear grew ever so slowly on her. It must have been several minutes, but it felt forever when she finally shifted her helm towards her sensei’s room. She started to feel uncomfortable as well when she did move as if...as if he was watching her. She moved the sliding door, entering it she looked for a Processor Over Matter sensitive black, white, and gold case. As it would have it, not much longer when a large rectangle case was seated on the table within her view, collecting dust. It was like this the last time she saw it and that was stellar cycles ago.

Previously, she couldn’t open the case because her Processor Over Matter wasn’t developed then. Solar lifted her servo just a little to have the case open to her, revealing the legendary Star Saber sword. Forged by Solus Prime herself.

The sword itself was huge because it was a broadsword, but when Solar lifted it up it was surprisingly light. The blade was a single edged sword and it was at least a few inches taller than Solar with the blade being more wider than a normal sword. Right at the handguard where two holes are, one of them is occupied by an orb that seemed to be glowing in a bright sky blue color the moment she held it by it's handle. Suddenly it disappeared from Solar’s grasp.

“What the-” She whispered, watching the traces of light blue aura dust that it left behind. She had no idea how to get it back now that it was out of its case.

“Slag, slag, slag-”

When she reached her servo outwards, the Star Saber popped right back into her servo by the handle.

“Oh.” Right away, Solar seemed to get what the sword was trying to do. She let out a sigh and made the sword disappear into her servo. Reaching for the sliding door, she let herself out of Yoketron’s room and slowly closed the door in front of her.

She tried so hard not to stare at him. She did not want the image of her conjunx’s corpse in her helm to be one of the many things to remember him by. But the more she thought about it, the more she was tempted to just look back and-

She made the first steps towards Prowl’s coffin, her feet making these small noises against the floor that can only be heard by her within the dojo. Once again, what felt like forever, seemed to be a few minutes that passed by when she was face to face to his lifeless frame. If he didn’t look so achromatic, she would think he would be resting but…

Solar moved behind his coffin and pressed a small button, which caused the coffin to slowly and carefully lowing itself so that it was floating, but now facing the dojo’s ceiling. She pressed another button, the one that was next to the previous one and that opened the coffin. Next, she moved near where his helm is and stood behind the coffin. It was the first time she saw her own servos start to shake. She pressed two digits on the side of her helmet and her helmet slid her visor upward, revealing her faceplate. She knew that she’s blind without the helmet activated, but she didn’t have too see herself being scared. She felt terrified.

What the hell happened that made her get to this point in her life cycle? The last time she saw him was when she arrived on Earth for the first time with Jazz, Sentinel, and Ultra Mangus. He was so full of life with the way he talked about nature and now he is gone. She stood there after failing to collect all the Allspark fragments and watched him die. She just finished her training with Processor Over Matter before Prowl died.

She didn’t realize before it was too late but tears fell out from her opticless face plate to his helm. Her intakes were rather shaky and fast, so when she touched his face she actually flinched on how cold it was. Her servos moved away from his face as she began to panic.

“I-I can’t do this. I can’t…” She moved away from the coffin and started sobbing from her empty optic sockets. Solar leaned against a wall and slowly sat back down. Closing her legs, she started to place her servos on the sides of her helm, lightly scratching the sides of it out of frustration. She knew Prowl did the right thing. She knew that Prowl did what he could to save the people he loved.

Suddenly, she felt a light touch on her left arm to her left servo and it startled her. This caused Solar to quickly move away from the coffin and stand up to hold her arm out for the Star Saber to appear on her servo. For obvious reasons, her servo started to shake with the Star Saber due to her crying and the constant feeling of being scared. She pressed her digits on the side of her helmet to turn it back on, seeing her soundings once again. She swore she felt something touch her arm. Was she imagining things or…?

No. There’s no way.

The sword pointed to every direction but the coffin, so that she won’t accidentally knock it off or attack it. Nothing was shown or seen to indicate a bot or con in her line of view that would suggest that something physical came into contact with her. As she stood there, she started to calm down just a little and tried to get her intakes at an even pace. She turned her attention to the coffin and walked towards it, the Star Saber disappearing in the process.

“I love you.”

Her right servo cupped the right side of his helm. “I love you so much.”

She leaned a little bit to give a light kiss on his forehead and quickly pulled away to give one last look at Prowl before she left the room.

“I’ll see you later.”

With that, she closed the coffin, pressing a button that slowly raised the coffin to its original position. She cloaked herself, making her way out of the dojo and hopefully finding a place to rest for the night.

[notwhelmedyet]

ficlet: The Rite of Deceptibrand

this is a scene snatched from my current WIP, because you don’t need to read that to enjoy this scene of Deadlock’s initiation into the Decepticons. Also because I’m shameless about cross-promotion.

Gen, 3000 words, PG, bit of violence & a lot of political rhetoric.

Deadlock crept down the halls of the undergrid, checking over his shoulder to ensure he had not been followed. He had been to the rallies before, to stand at the edge of the crowd and hear Megatron's words for himself. But today was different. Today Lord Megatron had spoken to him. He had known Deadlock by his old name and he'd cast it to the dust, offering him a new life where he would be needed and where his talents could fight for good. He'd touched his cheek and asked Deadlock for his loyalty. He'd already had it. Deadlock had expected to linger on the sidelines, a footsoldier for Lord Megatron's revolution against everything he hated - the government, the police, the functionists, the mode-creation separatists. Megatron apparently wanted him at the front of the charge.

Pride surged in his spark as Deadlock checked the path for the mark of paint that indicated the correct turn. They had dispersed after Megatron had gathered his recruits. It was dangerous to conduct business close to the surface. Even with the Senate dead, the skies still swarmed with spies. Megatron was a wanted mech and to join with him was to brand yourself a terrorist in the eyes of the government. So he had given directions for the recruits to disperse and travel into the undergrid, to meet again for their initiation.

Deadlock turned another corner and met with a stony-faced mech, Decepticon sigil worn over his spark in a badge of purple. The mech nodded in greeting and held out his hands. "No weapons are allowed in the initiation chamber."

Deadlock nodded his understanding. The unsworn soldiers were not yet trusted. He disarmed himself slowly, a smile playing about his lips as he pulled smaller and smaller guns from increasingly improbable hiding places. Deadlock raised his arms to allow himself to be scanned, then passed through the doorway under the auspices of two huge mining types.

The room was dark, lit from above with a purple glow of light filtering from some chamber above them. There was a great dais at the front of the room with a solid platform of solid metal at the back. A great hammer sat on the platform, Lord Megatron standing beside with his hand resting on the handle. He saw Deadlock enter and nodded, a slow and nearly imperceptible acknowledgement. Deadlock nodded back, unsure what level of reverence was appropriate. The fighters of the pit treated Megatron as a Lord, but his writing spoke of the end of such hierarchies. His speeches spoke of the inevitable but regrettable need for hierarchies in militarized revolt. Deadlock turned to stand with the other recruits, standing silently in anxious anticipation. They shifted silently such that none of them brushed shoulders as Deadlock slotted into place. There were two medics in the room, he noticed, standing just beneath the platform, medic sigils painted on their backs.

Deadlock did not bother to study the mechs around him-he knew them or knew of them. They were the recruits of his city, his resistance, his underworld. They knew him as well, leaving him a bit more space than the other waiting mechs. Deadlock had never set out to make his fellow Decepticons fear him. He'd merely done what he did best. He didn't need the money anymore. Sometimes he could kill just for him, a little bit of vengeance here and there. Rodion hadn't been a safe place to work at a Relinquishment Clinic for many years. And if you worked for the Senate, or for the new upstart 'Prime'...you deserved what was coming to you.

One of the medics moved through the crowd to approach Deadlock, waving him closer. "Lord Megatron requests your presence," the medic said, pointing over to the dais. Deadlock looked up, startled, and found Megatron still staring, considering him. Deadlock dipped his head again in acknowledgement and walked over. He did not see stairs of any sort up onto the platform, but Megatron was a tall mech and would not have needed them to ascend onto the platform. Deadlock slowed a moment, aware of the eyes on his back. He'd always hated an audience. But he took two steps and leapt, landing lightly on the dais in front of his Lord.

Megatron regarded him somberly. "Someone would have offered you assistance."

Deadlock chuckled. "I take care of myself." Then he caught himself, back-talking his general before he'd even been accepted into his army. Deadlock cringed.

Megatron merely nodded. "You will adjust. We are not merely building a movement or an army, Deadlock. We are building a new way of life for our people. One in which we build each other stronger. It is not enough to be individually strong, or we will all crumble."

Deadlock regarded Megatron for a moment. He is always on, isn't he? Megatron spoke as he wrote. Not at all what Drift had imagined when he'd watched those pit fight recordings. "What do you want of me, Lord Megatron?" He asked. The wince that crossed Megatron's face at the honorific was nigh imperceptible.

"I have asked all of you here to swear yourselves to the Decepticon cause," Megatron, raising a hand to his own chest and the badge that rested there. "And to take part in the Rite of Deceptibrand. The ceremony is intimate and requires both loyalty and courage. I find that recruits often need an example to give them the strength to continue. I would have you as that example."

Deadlock cocked his head. "You don't think I might need an example?"

"I don't think you fear anything, any longer," Megatron said, letting his hand rest on Deadlock's shoulder.

Deadlock looked to the hand on his shoulder, then back to Megatron, unknown feelings curling in his core. He hadn't...Megatron wasn't wrong. Besides the anger, there hadn't been much to feel lately. Deadlock had felt himself drowning in the anger, clawing at him like his addiction used to. But there was no one to trust, and thus no one to worry for. There was nothing left saving, some days. He had latched onto Megatron's words when he read them because they spoke of a hope that couldn't be extinguished, a rage that couldn't be quenched. To forsake resistance to nihilism and apathy was the greatest betrayal, Megatron had written, because that was a fighter choosing to snuff out a fire before it could burn their oppressors. Loyalty and hope were drugs Deadlock had not yet tasted, but he yearned for them, craved them in his very spark.

"I'll do it," he said.

Megatron lifted his hand from Deadlock's shoulder and turned towards the crowd, picking up the thread of his speech as if he'd never left off. It was nothing he had not heard before, read before. He'd been devouring Megatron's writings, new and old. But to hear it from only a few feet away gave it a deeper resonance.

"They tell us the Senate is dead and, with it, the oppressions we would fight against. But we killed the Senate. We knew they were dead when we stood amongst their scattered corpses. And we will know the oppression of Functionism is over when we have stood upon its shattered corpse. When there is no sense of what it had been, when we have forgotten what it was like to live in its shadow. We will not yield to those who have lived always in privilege. Who pantomime understanding now only because they fear our rage. Because that rage is poised like a dagger to their necks. We are strong because we are angry. Because we are unyielding. Because we, and they, know that we will stop for nothing less than justice," Megatron thundered.

He lifted in his hand a Decepticon badge. "This is a symbol. It is a thing to which we give weight. In itself it is nothing. A small piece of metal, hammered flat, stamped to shape. The shape? A face, a nameless face that could be any one of us and yet is none of us. We are not pledging fealty to some Prime, to some god, to some nameless thing. We are pledging fealty to us, to our loyalty to each other. You give the Decepticons their worth. You give this symbol its weight. And what weight will you give it? Because I will ask of you to pledge your life. Your body. Your spark. Everything you can give to justice, because no one else can give it for you. Do you pledge this?"

A roar rose up from the crowd, shaking the walls around them. Megatron lowered his fist, still clutching the badge in his hand. "Then today you will all become Decepticons, not just in name, but in action. Deadlock and I will perform the ritual first. Then the medics will assist each of you through it."

Megatron turned to him and laid his hand over Deadlock's chest. "Please, open."

A voice, an echo, a chorus of medics in stark white rooms leveled that same command, spat it back at Deadlock in his mind. But Megatron was not a clinic doctor and this was not an order. It was a request. Deadlock let his chestplates unfold, spark bared to his lord. Megatron kept his hand there, washed blue in the glow of Drift's spark.

Megatron spoke again, voice raised to be heard by the audience. But not the booming oratory that had carried him earlier. "I would take from your spark a piece of the casing that keeps it safe. I would take this thing, most precious to you, that you could form it into a sign of your commitment to our movement. I would do this even though it will hurt. I would do this even though it will make you vulnerable. I would do this for those reasons and for one more."

Megatron let his own chest casing unfold, revealing a spark glowing green. Deadlock froze, transfixed. He'd never seen anyone else's spark before and it was...beautiful. But there, right to the left of the core of his spark, Megatron was missing a narrow slot of metal, cut from that which ought never be cut. Megatron reached down with his other hand to take Deadlock by the wrist and lift Deadlock's hand to hold over his own spark. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the waves of energy beat against the palm of his hand. "We all have suffered, we have all lost to the tyranny of the system that stands. The differences in our suffering gives us strength, the multitudes of our adaptations gives us cunning that they will never have. But this is one suffering we will share, one sacrifice we will all make. We will never be able to understand all the pains of our comrades, but this one shared core, this one hurt, we will all have in common."

Deadlock blinked up at Megatron, the crowd watching them suddenly so far away. There was nothing but the pulse of Megatron's spark on the air on his palm and the knowledge of how close Megatron's own hand stood to his spark, fragile and waiting.

"May I?" Megatron asked.

"Yes," Deadlock said, unsure of what he was expected to say but certain in his answer.

Megatron lowered Deadlock's hand and took a laser scalpel from the shelf beside him. Leaning closer, he whispered in Deadlock's audial, "Cross your arms behind your back and hold tight. It will hurt a great deal, but less than you're expecting." Then he lifted the scalpel to Drift's spark and cut.

It was like fire, it was like nothing Drift had ever experienced. His spark reared back from the intrusion and he jolted once in pain, unable to hold himself still. But Megatron's hand was back on his shoulder, a unmovable force that held him still as the blade made a cut parallel to the first and then freed the casing fragment. Megatron cupped his hands around the fragile thing and lifted it from Deadlock's chest, exposing a slot of Deadlock's spark to the air and leaving him breathless with the pain and emotions he could not describe. Megatron put the fragment into Drift's hand and it was warm, still warm from his chest as he curled his fingers around it.

"You've made it through the first test," Megatron said, a smile on his lips. "You can seal away your spark now." He did the same, frame closing over that green light and leaving them again illuminated only by the lights above. "Now walk to the forge and take up the hammer. Strike the plating until it glows."

Deadlock took a shaky step forward, then straightened his back. He was being watched. He was Deadlock, not Drift. In three long strides he was at the platform and took up the hammer, setting the rectangle of plating down reluctantly. The hammer was heavy, unwieldy in his hand. He raised it above his head and struck. Sparks lit against the fragment along with a crack of heat. Clearly not just a hammer, a source of heat. Deadlock struck against the plating again, watching the sparks dance across the platform in its aftermath. He struck again and then again, letting a rhythm build in his haphazard strikes.

Behind him, Megatron spoke again. "I named you Deadlock. But you forge yourself. I cannot make you into a Decepticon, because only you can do that. You forge yourself anew."

The plating lit to red and then began to glow. Megatron stepped up and thrust a form onto the plating, molding it into the shape of the Decepticon sigil. He lifted the form by the handle and pressed the glowing brand against Drift's plating, branding it onto his frame.

It burned. Oh, it certainly burned. But it paled in comparison to the pain from before and Drift snarled in triumph. Megatron stepped away and Deadlock was complete. Megatron touched his fingers to the surface of the brand, already cooling to take up the purple color Deadlock was so familiar with. "And with this let no one question your loyalty or your devotion because you are Decepticon."

Deadlock let the hammer fall to the platform and stepped to the edge of the dais. He wanted to scream, he wanted to say some speech, mangle his words into something inspirational, he wanted to roar at the crowd in incoherent joy. Instead, he just let his hand linger on the brand on his chest and then raised his hand above his head. The hush broke into a roar, the crowd stomping their feet and hollering. Deadlock let himself be guided to the side of the dais as the rest of the initiates began the rite. The medics circulated through the crowd, opening chests and quickly cutting out slots of spark casings. Some mechs shuddered, some yelled, some's optics overheated and sparked. The first of the initiates was led up onto the platform and given the hammer to make his own badge. Deadlock watched the crowd.

He had never felt whole in this frame before. He'd settled in, certainly. He'd made use of it. Over time he'd made peace with Chasma's frame, easier now that he was out of Dead End and away from people that had recognized the frame and had shunned him for stepping out in a dead bot's body. He'd replaced it in bits and pieces over the years, upgrading parts when he was injured. Never made any big changes, even once he could afford it; it just felt wrong when he was living on borrowed time. But this badge, this was his and only his.

As Megatron stepped forwards to brand the next initiate, Deadlock caught movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the recruits, near the side of the hall. A laser scalpel in his hands, ripped away from the attending medic. The recruit hefted the scalpel and then raised his arm to throw.

Deadlock threw his body in the path of the blade, catching it through the palm of his hand in a hot blaze of pain, catching it out of the air from where it would have struck Megatron in the optic. Deadlock pounced on the assassin. One knee to the chest, an elbow to his neck as Deadlock ripped the scalpel out of his hand with his teeth and pressed it to the base of the assassin's jaw. Deadlock panted, energon spattering on the floor around them. Arm trembling as he resisted the urge to kill this traitor immediately, to snarl and show Lord Megatron that he was something less than a person and incapable of control.

A presence stepped behind him, and Megatron said, "You can kill him, Deadlock. There is no information he can give us."

Deadlock's captive squealed under him but that didn't stop Deadlock from stabbing the blade through his helm. The body tightened and grinned, maniacal. Deadlock watched until its plating dulled to grey and fell limp under his hands, then pushed himself back to his feet and turned to face his lord. "Megatron, sir," he said.

Megatron touched a finger to the back of Deadlock's hand and frowned. "There was no need, Deadlock. He would not have hurt me."

Deadlock shrugged. "I couldn't risk that."

"Thank you." Megatron looked around and waved the medic over. "He would not have attacked unless he had contacts outside. We will have the enforcers on our doorstep. Once this is patched, can you join the guard at the door? We cannot stop the ceremony partway through."

"I can go now," Deadlock said.

"After," Megatron insisted. "You'll do me more good with a gun in each hand." He turned to return to the dais as the medic took Deadlock's hand to apply the patch. "You have already proven yourself, Deadlock, you do not need to impress me."

Deadlock watched him go with hunger in his optics, sure as sparks that that was absolutely what he would devote himself towards doing. Forged anew into something Lord Megatron would respect. He eyed the door where his guns and the imminent threat of intruders awaited. First day as a Decepticon and life was already looking more exciting.