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Chapter Text

He was floating, that much he understood. He was suspended above the rugged terrain of an unidentified moon. Amidst the infinite darkness, the Earth loomed in the periphery of his vision, a distant beacon of familiarity in the otherwise cold and shapeless void.

His body, once a resilient vessel, now bore the scars of abuse, its surface marred by cuts and bruises. Each breath he took was a struggle against the vacuum of space, his frail form trembling against the backdrop of stars.

Through his optics, a barrage of warnings flashed through his HUD, obscuring his view of the desolate landscape below. Despite the urgency conveyed by his HUD, he found himself unable to muster the strength to move, his limbs heavy with exhaustion or perhaps resignation.

Questions echoed in the recesses of his processor, elusive fragments of memory slipping through his grasp like grains of sand. How had he ended up here? The answers eluded him, lost amidst the labyrinth of his damaged internal wires or circuits.

As he struggled to make sense of his predicament, a wave of despair washed over him, mingling with the dull ache of physical agony. In that moment of clarity, he confronted a primal fear that had long lain dormant within him: the fear of death.

With each passing moment, the boundaries of his consciousness blurred, his thoughts becoming fragmented whispers amidst the vast emptiness of space. In the face of impending oblivion, he found himself grappling with a profound sense of isolation, a solitary speck adrift in the cosmic expanse.

In the fading twilight of his existence, he embraced the full weight of his mortality, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life amidst the unforgiving void. And as the stars shimmered in silent witness, he resigned himself to his fate, a solitary figure swallowed whole by the infinite abyss.

He did not see the lights approaching him when he fell stasis to his injuries.

Chapter Text

The wind felt nice on his wings this morning, cascading against the damp turbulence as the clouds set in the moody undertone of a slight drizzle. Rain felt nice too, even if it was bothersome at points. Luckily, because of his speed he didn't have to worry about it too much, the air carried much of the issues with it.

Starscream was just glad he wasn't on the ground during the pelting. He could already imagine the annoyance of the muck from the dirt riding up his struts and between the seams of his legs. The amount of cleaning and preening he would have to do to thoroughly remove it. Ugh.

He increased his speed, letting the rain slide across his wings as he idled closer to the ground.

He was on patrol, not a joy ride, even if the notion of flying was one of the reasons why he even patrolled in the first place. He came alone this time, his trine-mates hanging back at the Nemesis to get some much needed recharge for the later mining that they were going to need to do to keep the Energon stocks up.

Starscream opted to cover their shifts, boasting that he could handle himself without his trine to Megatron, as per usual. Though his trine kept him much needed company during patrol, he held out his care to them for their well-being even if he tried desperately to hide his vulnerability towards his brothers.

They hadn't been getting enough recharge and were getting worse every solar-cycle. He could see it in their optics, and their demeanor. Skywarp's bubbly demeanor had dwindled to a mere smile and he hadn't been as excited as usual, no pranks either. Thundercracker was dragging and he felt too tired for any sort of comebacks to some of Starscream's remarks made to his frame. They were both courageously tired to an extent that Starscream wasn't happy about.

He remembered coming from a long patrol to find them struggling to keep their optics online, Skywarp much worse than Thundercracker. Neither of them were barely responsive to questions and both of them collapsed on the berth as if they had just went through the worst hellfire imaginable. Starscream debated on calling Knockout to see if there was something more going on. Another long day with Starscream at the starting edge of line-ups for aerial training and the duo were still at the edge of collapsing. 

"What's the matter with you two?" Star had asked them when the training had concluded and they back in their shared quarters, crossing his arms over his chassis. He didn't feel as antagonistic as he was before, truthfully he was tired himself. He stared at their exhausted demeanor making him feel pity for whatever had been occurring for them to be this way. When they confided it was clear who the culprit was, it was Megatron. It always was.

He had been working them to the wire; from Energon mining to useless, sometimes silent, patrols. It was no secret that Megatron had been a bit more paranoid since the Nemesis' crash on Earth. He was also more skittish to the ideas of Optimus Prime suddenly raiding their vulnerable base. Not as vulnerable as it had already been. Starscream was well-aware of the lack-luster technology that plagued the old systems. Soundwave had tried at many points to keep breaches from occurring on multiple occasions and while the bot wasn't someone that Starscream favored to be around, Soundwaves position was something he could not fill.

Starscream was clever enough to recognize that both sides were equally struggling after some extensive observation on his own time. Both ships had crashed near the same time, from the war. But even after explaining the evidence of the potential upper-hand, Megatron's paranoia had not subsided and there were multiple instances where Starscream sat before the combustible leader as he raced through plans that were short-lived. The plans were hastily constructed and it was immediately clear that they were fated to fail. Even the enemy could've seen this coming from miles away.

As much as Starscream didn't credit the Prime, he was extremely intelligent, the only thing he lacked was nuance in certain situations. Comparatable to Megatron, Prime had more confidence and political involvement than Megatron did, specifically in past tense. These plans were nothing more than childs play and could be easily adapted to which made Starscream even more irritated at his leader's arrogance.

As always, Megatron did not take no for an answer even with Starscream strongly contesting against the idea. He could almost hear the sound of rushing vents as Megatron's irritation only grew with his interruptions but Starscream wasn't willing to back down. "These plans aren't full-proof and anyone in their right processor would be able to see the failure behind the rushed plans!" He had yelled out as Megatron bore a glare straight through his helm. If his plating could melt with just his gaze alone he would’ve been molten metal.

It only became worse as Megatron’s temper had far from subsided and he became physically violent with the seeker, his servo colliding with the SIC’s face. The sheer force sent him stumbling back on his aft. Starscream was lucky that was about as much as the leader was willing to do to him in a brief fit of rage. Starscream had lost the small amount of respect that he had left for Megatron that day, it was a miniscule amount. He could still feel the sting of the slap that he received then. Yet, here he was still abiding by his rules, because the safety of his trine overrides any inner arrogance that Starscream held for himself.

When he decided to reach out to his trine to check on them he could feel the calmness radiating back from their connected bond. The response made him relax a bit even if he was highly stressed. He eventually slowed to a stop and decided to do some foot patrol as the weather began to clear up. The sun peeked through the clouds, lighting up the land with its rays. His HUD displayed increase in temperature and the rain eventually slowed to a stop. 

When Starscream landed, he cringed as the not-so-dry dirt clumped on his landing. Luckily, none of it got into his struts and he held in a sigh as he began to walk. His earlier thought came to mind and his wings reacted with his disdain, flicking up in a tight stance. 

Truthfully, Starscream didn't know what he was looking for. It felt boring to look for Autobots to fight. He was tired of the repetitive fighting over resources, much of which reminded him of Vos and its political endeavors. Cybertron was not much better off than The Great War was. Whereas he would've been sitting in an conference hall with other shady bots who seemed more interested in a frag or a murder than the mutual neutrality that Starscream tried to keep in place. His opinion was about as meaningful as he was in the Decepticon army.

Still, he walked amongst the damp dirt, looking back and forth at the endless desert. And for about the next couple of kliks he walked in silence.

"Ugh, there's nothing here." Starscream scoffed to himself as he came to a stop eventually. He crossed his arms and made an expression like an angry human toddler. He checked his HUD again; nothing showing with the next couple of miles. No signals, just pure boredom. He checked his chronometer and felt even more exasperated when the patrol wasn't going to be done for at least another breem.

"I can't stand this, I need something to do." Starscream used his map knowledge to scope out for previous Energon mines the Decepticons had scoured before. Starscream knew the other bots weren't good at completely mining out the remainder crystals. There was always at least a couple of pieces of Energon left in the mines. It wouldn't hurt to take a couple of cubes for himself and for his trine. Primus knows that their rations were always low.

It almost felt like luck when he spotted a yellow bot searching the mine when he arrived. Although Starscream wasn't in the mood to fight, he couldn't help himself to mess with the Autobot. The scout was alone and didn't seem to notice Starscream's arrival, even though the seeker was pretty dramatic in his entrances. Starscream approached a bit closer as the bot scoured the debris that he cut through, becoming silently irritated when he didn't find what he was looking for.

"Looking for something?" Starscream chided with a smirk, chuckling as Bumblebee turned with a fright. Evidently, the bot wasn't expecting company and swiftly readied his arm cannon in a moment, quickly regaining his composure. Starscream made a mocking movement of surrender as Bumblebee watched him intently, surprisingly not saying much towards the SIC.

Starscream smirked at Bumblebee and readied a missile as he paced his steps slowly, keeping his arms to his sides in a relatively closed off stance as he stepped with purpose. He rounded the yellow bot and watched him with a sharp eye.

"Theres not much here, looking for scraps maybe?" Starscream flashed a toothy grin as Bumblebee's expression changed slightly, his optics narrowing at him. Starscream shrugged at the silence in response, "Just an observation." He remarked, the grin remaining on his lips. They were both alone, at least as far as Starscream could tell at a surface level, he wasn't detecting any unmentioned guests and the Autobot seemed far to riled up to have backup.

"What are you doing here con?" Bumblebee's chirps and binary was an unwelcome sound. It cut through the subtle silence which rudely reminded Starscream of his failure to remember that Bee's vocalizer was gone due to his current leader. Starscreams slight cringe at the sound of Bee's, rather lack-thereof, vocalizer didn't go unnoticed.

"I believe I asked you that already. Though, this is quite boring on its own, really." Starscream couldn't hold his cockiness back as he spoke, fake yawning as they stood at a standstill, one waiting for the other to shoot. Starscream kept pacing his steps, amusement crackling around his EM field as he watched Bumblebee's wary expression.

Bumblebee didn't seem too inclined to answer Starscream's question and just made a sound similar to a sigh, "It's none of your business." Starscream rolled his optics as if expecting the response from the other, "On the contrary, I believe it is, you're in our mine." Starscream remarked with a bit of irreverence in his voice, a scowl taking place of his once amused grin. He enjoyed messing with an Autobots confidence but pacing around the bot was starting to become tiresome.

Bumblebee only started to move as Starscream had moved a bit away from the exit to the mine. Starscream did notice the movement but let it slide, truthfully he didn't want to start a fight in the mine, he just wanted to kill time and this was doing just that. Bumblebee on the other hand, seemed ready to get this over with.

"Got nothing to say?" Starscream couldn't help himself but mock the poor scout, driving in the dark knowledge of his missing vocalizer which made the yellow bots optics narrow and the door wings on his back flare from his rising anger.

Starscream held the grin that appeared on his face again, "Oh... I'm sorry, I forgot." He stated impishly with a slight shrug, expecting a strong emotional response, maybe even a shot to the head. What he didn't expect was Bumblebee forfeiting his use of the arm cannon to fist fight him. Though the decision was appreciated on Starscream's side whether or not he chose to voice it.

Bee did get a starting surprise punch in before Starscream retaliated, managing to shove the bot back a decent ways before the scout came charging again. He really was thinking with his head and managed to get him in a body lock before they both tumbled with Starscream pinned down to the ground. Starscream was much less talkative while being physically fought which the bot commented on, much to Starscreams irritation.

Bee held a grip on the seekers arms, holding a tight clasp on both wrists. Starscream audibly griped about the uncomfortable position for his wings while he struggled underneath the Autobot as he attempted to try to gain leverage on the other.

"Try that on for size, con." It was Bee's turn to mock him and the only retort the SIC could come up with was a snarl and a flare of dentae. He was coming up with something to counterract and while his pride was slightly scorned by the brute force shown by Bee, he wasn't deterred.

While the yellow scout was busy responding to a ping that he no doubt received from either Optimus or that medic, Starscream used that moment to shimmy his strut to the side position it just near the cadulen and fired the thruster as much as his energy would allow in this position. Bee, not expecting the sudden heat, jerked and lost his hold on Starscream which prompted the seeker to kick him back.

He wasn't staying a moment longer. If he let himself get caught again as his foolishness had allowed the first time, he really didn't want to risk being held captive by the Autobots or worse deal with Megatron's wrath in return. Before Bee could fix his composure, he was already in alt mode and fled off, expertly flying through the mines at high rate of speed. He would deal with Megatron's annoyance, he had already wasted enough time as is.

"Bumblebee, are you alright?" Optimus' voice cut through the comm's. He must've heard the commotion when Bee was trying to explain the situation. Just trying to tie down the seeker was a job on its own. For a bot that usually spends most time in the air, Bee didn't expect Starscream to be so agile especially while grounded. Yet, Bee had a knagging feeling in his spark about the entire interaction. Starscream was almost too easy to subdue and it didn't make any sense to him. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Starscream is gone, guess he got scared when I managed to overpower him for a bit." Bee sighed as he looked at the remnants of the brief fight. Dirt was thrown every where, and the mine wall was caved in from when they collided against it before going to the ground. Bee's paint was partially scratched from the slight tussle and his arms and legs were covered in dirt. Bee scoffed at the mess, a sentiment he could probably share with Starscream.

Bee looked to the less-than-empty mine as he was stuck in his processor while he paced the interior of the mine. Starscream's arrival felt meaningless and his processor was working on overtime to try and find a reason for his sudden drop in.

Bee put a digit to his audial a minute of walking and waited until he heard a crackled click as the comm line open manually, "There's nothing here. Not sure why he paid a visit. The mines empty." Bee was reeling, processor working to figure out Starscream's plan. He showed up without a memo and didn't seem too interested in fighting. More so, he was interested in the mine than Bee himself.

Optimus chimed over the comms, "It's possible that there is something left in that mine if Starscream had returned to it. Does it show to have any evidence of current Decepticon activity?" He queried, his voice pulling Bee out his thoughts. Bee took another look around the barren interior, looking for any equipment left behind but there was nothing but open holes and chiseled rocks.

Bee shook his head, as if Optimus could see him, before he corrected himself and spoke, "No, nothing. Not even mining equipment." He sighed, pacing for a minute, "It just doesn't make sense." Bee spoke out loud, hoping that Optimus could provide his intake on the brief interaction. Although, he didnt expect much from the naive leader.

Ratchet's voice was up next to override the comm's and a welcome one at that, "Was Starscream alone during this brief tustle?" Bee seemed to take that question in a bit, he was alone. Starscream usually had his trine with him, so what changed?

"Yeah, actually... he was alone." Bee eventually added after a minute of silence. He kicked at the dirt that was tussled from the brawl that happened earlier. This confusion that he felt would be stuck in his processor for a minute.

"In any case, return to base Bumblebee. I want to affirm your health before we send you back out. Arcee will cover the remaining hours of patrol." Optimus ordered as his voice came over comm's again and Bee nodded in agreement. He made his way out before signaling for a bridge back.

Whatever was going on with the cons, they didn't like it. Not one bit.

Starscream's return was... lackluster at best. He had half-expected Megatron's forefrontal attendance to his return with a more-than-anticipated scolding. He did return a couple of klik's earlier than normal from patrol but he also believed that Megatron on most occasions rooted for his demise out on the field. Which, that thought was normally affirmed when asked.

It was out of the ordinary for their leader to not be mostly aware of these kinds of things. So when he returned to command room, he was surprised to see that Megatron's aft had yet leave the comfort of his throne. But telling by the TIC's closeness to their lord, it was understood pretty quickly that Megatron's favorite had quelled any rising anger that was becoming apparent in his large form.

"Lord Megatron," Starscream greeted with a slight grit to his words. He made a laggard bow as Megatron's optics met his own. He didn't miss the optic roll that Megatron passed as he stared down at his SIC with a disapproving gaze.

"The patrol went well, though I did run into the annoying scout, no injuries to report and a relatively quiet morning if I do say so myself." Starscream continued even without the engagement of Megatron, he expected nothing less from the leader as it was not the first time he had a figurative one-sided conversation in the presence of Megatron. Yet, the action still earned a slight expression of displeasure from the lord. Starscream didn't waver on testing his patience though. Even if it was something that could, possibly, most likely, get him sent to medical bay.

Megatron shifted in his throne, a new expression on his face that Starscream couldn't quite read. Not that he could read his EM field either, it was proximate to the brutes frame. Effectively shutting everyone out from reading the overbearing lords emotions. "A brief encounter with an autobot? Tell me, was it hesitance or cowardice that made you fail to leave a scratch on him? I expected maybe a couple of battle wounds on yourself had this 'battle' gone as well as you state." As always, there was something that Megatron would bring up that would create a sense of trepidation in Starscream's spark. The fight itself was brief and although Starscream didn't exactly go out unscathed, save for aching wings and a pulsing thruster, a scratch to Megatron was equivalent to a missing limb or molten metal. Starscream wasn't really in the mood for Megatrons analogies.

"I-I did, my lord. I burnt him with my thruster, we didn't have a fight between weapons but rather a fight between fists." Starscream cursed his nervousness when answering, stuttering to find the right words. The stuttering made Starscream want to rip out his own vocalizer. Internally damning the leader for his negative effect on him.

Megatron hummed, optics trained on him and his expressions. He seemed partially pleased with Starscream's inability to talk clearly and Starscream outwardly attempted to not remind himself of Megatron's twisted fantasies. It wasn't a secret that Megatron enjoyed inflicting pain on the SIC, even more so when it involved his voice. The hum dragged the deep feeling of dread from Starscreams core and he held back his expression from changing. 

Starscream held his wings in place, trying to keep himself in a position where he couldn't be read, where his fear wasn't shown through his wings or his face yet his reactive body always betrayed him. If Megatron were truly looking, he would've seen Starscreams servos slightly trembling which the seeker was sure he saw with full intent.

"You are quite lucky I'm in a good mood Starscream, otherwise this report from you would've been tasked as a failure. Get out of my sight, at once." Megatron's hand motioned him away, irritation radiating off his form again. Starscream was quick to leave, almost stumbling on his own pedes, his steps loud across the floor as he fast-walked to his shared quarters.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were online when he walked in, no longer recharging as he made his way into their quarters. He sighed softly as he sighted them, only relaxing when the door finally closed behind him. His stress was legible through the shared bond which made Skywarp and Thundercracker look at him from whatever they had occupied themselves with.

"What's wrong?" Skywarp was the first to ask, as Starscream trodded across the room to the connected wash room. At first he didn't answer but did give a response before TC could ask the same question again and knag him for the rest of the day, "Megatron." He would say as he grabbed a polishing cloth from the wrack and some solvent from the floor. 

Only then did he take in his state and he didn’t look as worst as he could have been, scratched paint and some dirt littering his frame from the interaction with Bumblebee. He huffed at himself in the mirror before spraying the solvent in the rag. 

Skywarp stalked over to him, leaning on the wall. Both him and Thundercracker were much more relaxed and active, it was clear a well-needed recharge was all they required to be back to normal. A sight that made Starscream feel a little bit better. But they were more curious about him.

"What about him?" Thundercracker asked, still standing by the doorway rather than invading Starscream's personal space like Skywarp was. Starscream didn’t seem to mind though. 

Starscream started to water, planning on just rinsing himself off from the dirt and grime from earlier. Skywarp quietly offered to help and Starscream allowed him before he continued, "Megatron is..." He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. He shuttered when Skywarp took hold of the shower-head and rinsed his back and wings. The water was cold but it felt nice.

"Unhinged? Deranged? A Loose Cannon, literally?" Thundercracker gave possible answers and Starscream shot him a look. TC only shrugged in response, "He's been a lot of things lately," He added as watched the both of them, not interested in helping.

Skywarp only nodded with TC's statements, "Did he hurt you again?" He asked as he took the solvent damp cloth and helped Starscream polish any scratches on certain parts of his frame.

Starscream shook his head, "No, thank Primus for that. Soundwave seems to be doing a favor for me, I have no idea why." Starscream went to correct himself, it was no favor. Soundwaves involvement meant nothing to him. Just like every other mech on this ship, it was clear the Soundwave didn't like him.

Thundercracker corrected him, "Maybe not a favor, but more that his behavior has become so uncontrollable that Soundwave is stepping in to try and take some action against his 'irritability', whatever that means." He scratched the back of his helm as he tried to understand what had been going with Megatron. Starscream could only nod in agreement, leaning his head on the wall as he thought for a moment. 

Skywarp continued to preen him, moving his wings and pulling on plates to get any unnecessary grime that was hiding from the surface. It worked well as gunked up dirt hidden behind mesh seemed to slide freely to the floor with the waters stream. Skywarp seemed satisfied with his work and shut off the water.

Starscream sighed as he finished up, "Even still, this behavior is troubling. We'll just have to keep an eye on him a bit more than normal." He muttered, stuck in his processor again as he walked over to their shared berth with a clean towel in hand. Skywarp and Thundercracker following.

"Maybe later— we'll worry about it later," Skywarp stopped himself mid-sentence and corrected what he was going to say as he sat next to Starscream. Warp watched him dry off his frame and offered when Star had a hard time reaching areas. 

"You need rest, it was a couple of breem's that you were out patrolling. You deserve to relax." Warp suggested while Thundercracker sat nearby in a chair. "We'll keep watch." TC added on, "Nothing is going to happen while we're here." Skywarp agreed with his statements as he finished up and tossed the used rag to the entrance to the wash room, planning on cleaning it up later. He’ll forget.

Starscream just nodded, he did need some recharge and although him and his trine-mates had some differences that caused them to butt heads they did care for each other immensely. He just hoped he could provide as much as protection as they were providing him.

Chapter Text

Starscream's recharge felt like nothing, like a light switch that had been flicked once and he was online again. The only passage of time that showed had been a couple of breems later according to his chronometer. His HUD lit up like it was dawn and it strained his optics as he squinted at the stamped time.

Taking a small moment for his body to wake up, he slithered out of his trine-mates torpid embrace, being careful to not wake the rowdy duo. Once he was up and standing, he stared at the two's pervasive positions, arms and legs sprawled across the berth. Each limb was languid and making either bot look like a frozen damsel in distress against the comfort of the berth. The sight made Starscream snort softly, amused at the sight before moving to grab a data pad on the joined desk close by the berth. 

Opening the data pad led a flood of notifications through the feed, from extensive reports from the aerial units to private messages forwarded from the invasive red doctor who seemed keen on knowing every detail about his frame. Starscream ignored the messages from Knockout, planning on meeting the hot rod at a later time that day and inspected the other notifications. Most of the reports were bare, the illiteracy of the band of seekers was noticiable and Starscream felt an irritation seeping from his EM field. He would've taught them how to write had he had more time before being dragged into the war with whispers of a promise that their leader couldn't keep. 

He felt like he was deceived from reaching that semblance of peace and confidence that was his involvement in the seemingly neverending war, right? Reaching peace and equality.

Was he being deceived?

He ignored it, dragging himself from the hell that was his thoughts and let himself sigh as he skimmed through the poorly written reports before finally deciding to put the data pad down back on the barren desk. Starscream made it his effort to wake the snoring lunatics on their berth and although it took some time he managed to wake them.

"You interupted my dream.." Skywarp groaned as he sat up, stretching his long purple wings, which ended up smacking Thundercrackers shoulder. Thundercracker let out an annoyed growl as he took his sweet time getting up. His digit coiled around the dull metal and pinched. Skywarp snarled back at him, fully awake now, "Do you want to go TC?" He threatened the blue mech as his wing flicked away from his conniving digit which tried to snatch it again for another pinch. Thundercracker was partially amused at the thought of wrangling the other seeker in a small fist fight.

Skywarp on the other hand was not amused and was quite serious in his threat. He made a move to launch himself at the blue seeker. Starscream managed to wrap an arm around, the mid-lunging, Skywarp and pulled him back, "We don't have time for this." Starscream sighed as Skywarp attempted, again, to claw at Thundercracker who only sported a cocky smirk. All of which did not make the situation any better.

Starscream was rubbing his helm as Skywarp squawked his irritations towards TC with a loud mouth that made his helm throb. Thundercracker didn't entertain Skywarp's obvious irritations but each small comment about being 'hotheaded' made the paint on Skywarp glow a bit brighter purple with how much his vents hissed and made him appear condensed. 

"Enough, I don't have the patience to deal with this at the moment, we need to get moving before Megatron chews our afts about being late again, and I'd rather not deal with him this morning." Starscream finally bit the raging end of stick and watched as Skywarp's irritation switch to him. Warp was definitely in a mood, probably from his abrupt awakening. Starscream didn't feel sympathetic enough to apologize and decided on quickly walking on without them while Skywarp decided when it was his time to calm down. Warping seemed out of the question today, not that Starscream cared, his pedes were almost always reliable.

As Starscream walked closer to the landing pad, Megatron’s booming voice was the first thing he heard as he walked out, "Get moving now! I don't want to see any bot dragging pedes!" His voice was as close to a sharp yell as it ever could be without boiling his stifled anger. Aerial bots clambered down the runaway with a speed Starscream didn't appear to know as possible, more than likely from their fear of disappointing their leader. Starscream could tell through his EM Field alone that Megatron woke up with a rattle up his tail-pipe and a vocalizer that rivaled Alpha Trion. This was a slow morning, yet Starscream was the one dragging his pedes all the way up to the fierce leader who turned to meet the seeker.

"Its quite impudent for the Aerial Commander to be late to his own take-off, wouldn't you say?" Megatron was spitting venom while Starscream was fed every blow. He managed to respond to his teetering commander, "Had my trine-mates failed to cause an issue, I wouldn't have been late." He replied snarkily, wings carrying the stride of his words, he wasn't in the mood for games. But neither was Megatron.

"Clearly." Megatron remarked gruffly, seemingly taking the snide remark without consequence. Starscream shook his head passively before taking off on his own, transforming to his alt mode and moving in a grace that others would envy. 

Starscream’s flight was relatively silent, save for a couple of pings from Megatron that insulted his abilities to be a second in command properly. Starscream just ignored them and landed heavily when the mine came into view. 

Skywarp and Thundercracker were there already by the time he arrived and he made the assumption that Skywarp was better than earlier and warped them both there. Though, Starscream said nothing to them on his arrival, the two still partially greeted him when he walked in. Starscream was mainly ignored as he walked between the bots displayed across the mine like little bugs, each mining at their own pace. The trine were only there as moderation and passage of energon onto the freights while they worked.

Starscream made sure to appoint himself in a position of authority, watching belatedly from above as the aerial bots and wreckers worked through the tough rock and pierced energon crystals. His trine-mates sauntered through the lined bots as they worked, glancing lazily at each one and made sure they worked as efficiently as possible. 

Then came the repetitive cycle. The invasion of the Autobots felt like chaos. An eruption of confusion flooded the entire mine. To the Decepticons, it wasn't expected. But to Starscream, it was something he had been waiting for. It been multiple breems since the Autobots made a move since the crash onto Earth. Starscream knew it was only a matter of time before the Autobots did something, they've been recovering for a while now. With the most recent incident with Bee still in his mind, he knew this was all coming.

Starscream still fought, attempted to, he was never good at close combat and it showed when he was starting to get overrun by the scout, again. The femme in their group, Arcee, backed up Bumblebee as they cornered him. His blasters were raised at both of them as he backed away, glaring daggers back at the two while the background looked like a spinning top. Multiple bots collided with each other while plumes of blast fire zoomed past helms and limbs. It could've been a bloodbath had the Autobots extended more brutality towards the Decepticons. 

Starscream felt humiliated to be in a position like this but he kept his arms raised and his wings stiff. "Got nothing to say con?" Arcee's annoying voice split through his thoughts and he focused his gaze on Arcee. His blaster was aimed strongly at the both of them but even more so on the smaller bot.

"On the contrary, I have quite a lot to say but this is an unfair situation!" Starscream snarled as he looked at the two. Coming up behind them was the rowdy and reckless seeker Skywarp who had seen the predicament that Starscream was in. 

Starscream took notice of Skywarp's presence but made it his goal to keep the two Autobots unaware of the flank. While the two were also in slight conversation on what to do with the SIC, Starscream shifted his footing which caught the attention of Arcee. 

Skywarp creeped forward, getting close to Bumblebee, setting in who he was going to go after. Warp had a sinister grin on his face as he stepped closer and closer, the inner workings of his messed up processor working on overdrive. The sight made Starscream internally cringe. 

Is that how he appeared to everyone else? Wait, don't answer that.

When Skywarp made the jump, his arms hooked under Bumblebee's torso and he dragged the bot back. Starscream followed through, kicking Arcee back, lunging at the femme who swiftly moved out of the way. Both were resorting to close combat, Arcee attempted to sweep at his legs but he rolled to the side and attempted to grab her leg as a counter. Hastily, she managed to pull her leg in quicker than he could grab. 

He snarled, "Clever slagger." Arcee gave him a sly look before running at him. Starscream collided with her as a result, letting her overtake him as they tumbled to the ground. His wedged his wings, making sure the fall didn’t damage them and punched Arcee in the face. The femme staggered from the blow but failed to be hit off of the seeker. 

Arcee and Starscream were emphatically struggling, wrestling like mechlings in a fist fight while Skywarp and Bumblebee were evenly matched. All were exhausted, each bearing the weight of their blows. 

Starscream had managed to get the pin on Arcee while she held her blaster to his chin, stuck impudently in a position of a stalemate until one or the other makes a move. 

“You’re extremely annoying,” Starscream said through gritted dentae, “Right back at you.” Arcee responded wittingly, having a glaring competition with the SIC who had her pinned. 

The call for retreat was received on both ends of the factions. One that made both Arcee and Starscream cautiously raise a fist to one another while the release was slow. It was common ground and although Starscream thought about adding another scuff to the bots plating he held back at temping any more future events. 

Skywarp was difficult to convince to fall back but the purple seeker eventually listened to his trine leader. Soon, Thundercracker joined on the retreat. They all watched the Autobots slink back into the ground bridge and the Decepticons return to the Nemesis. 

There was a heavy air and Starscream learned of the loss that they had suffered on return to the Nemesis.

Skywarp seemed to have forgiven the earlier plight from this morning and warped himself and the other two seekers back to the landing pad. Starscream didn’t step foot through the hallway when his HUD pinged with a summons request. 

It was Megatron. He wasn’t happy, but truly when was he ever?

Starscream did a further inspection on the mining expedition, they had lost about 25% more than their last run, which meant during the brief fight with Bumblebee and Arcee. They somehow made it out with a decent amount of fuel. Which meant Starscream was about to take the fall for it. 

The frown must of been evident on his face as the seeker siblings noticed quickly, “Megatron?” Warp was the first to ask and Starscream’s delayed response answered it without him having to say anything. Thundercracker failed to hide his snarl and Skywarp had to nudge him. 

“We have no authority,” Skywarp added with a glance to TC, it was the smartest thing Skywarp had said for eons. Starscream shook his head slightly, “Well said.” 

“I’ll deal with this myself,” Starscream started, separating himself from the two as the hallways branched paths, “Wait for me in our quarters, it shouldn’t be long.” Thundercracker and Skywarp watched him leave, walking idly down the corridor with heavy pedes before they looked amongst themselves. Unhappy with the turn of events but unable to do anything about it.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick. 

Chapter Text

The walk to his quarters felt like the end all be all. Even standing behind the closed metal door, Starscream could feel the impending doom that loomed and seeped through the cracks of the door. He knew what Megatron wanted, he knew what was going to happen, yet he still stood behind that door, waiting, hesitating.

He never questioned why it was his quarters. He had asked at one point, but then it was a different time, a different punishment. A different.. humiliation. He hoped this time it wasn’t the same but knew that one can only hope so much. Starscream was familiar to useless hoping, useless wishing. He had been stuck in that spiral before.

Yet, he hoped the door wouldn’t open when it did, sliding into the wall and revealing the dull quarters behind it. In the room, Megatron sat at the desk tucked to the side, close to the entrance but far enough away to feel like Starscream wasn't trapped. 

Anywhere with him felt like a cage and Starscream felt it, the barred enclosure around his entire being. His room was suffocating to be in. It was only at times like these when he felt the most defiant that his thoughts ran rampant to reasons why he still responded to him with ‘Master’ or ‘My Lord’. Megatron had become aware of his presence and had shifted his body to face him.

“Starscream. I will not repeat myself.” Megatron’s voice cut through the smog in his processor and he realized he didn’t hear the first sentence that Megatron spoke. He kept his frame from rattling, though he never understood the unconscious nerves his body set in place without his consent. It was expected. Necessary. Just apart of his judgement.

It never is. You know this.

“Yes, sir?” He asked impishly, confused and cautious. Megatron motioned with his hand, a motion for him to come in. His expression was displeased and for a moment Starscream thought about turning around and leaving. He thought about walking away but his body was frozen and refused to listen to his silent commands. Although, he said nothing in response, Megatron patience was growing thin. 

Still, he responded to Megatron like an obedient servant to his leader, walking in but kept a distance. He ignored the flinch he made as the door slid shut with a loud noise. He silently berated himself for allowing himself to be precarious around Megatron. As assumed, Megatron noticed most interesting things like that. He kept it in a log in his head and when things were discussed, Megatron would mention it, he would test Starscreams emotional status.

“You wanted to see me?” Starscream’s hesitation was heard in his voice. He wanted to be more confident but confidence was not coming to him in that moment. “You failed, yet again Starscream. I expected much better from you.” Megatron started, his digits tracing the edge of a cup that sat on his desk. The statements were minor insults, disappointment laced in the edge of his voice.

“Megatron, sir, I wasn’t in direct correlation to the-“ Starscream automatically defended his point, only for the cup to be crushed in a single hit. His fist collided with the metal in half of a second, crumbling the poor metal cup into a flat coaster. All of which cut him off. Megatron’s anger fumed past his frame, flooding his overbearing EM Field. He wanted Starscream to know he was angry.

He flicked the crushed cup off the desk, watching it fall before meeting Starscream’s gaze, “You are Second In Command, Starscream. I expect order and consequence, especially when I am not accompanying you on the expeditions. You. Failed.” Megatron spoke with a heavy tone, loud and boisterous with each word before he leaned to stand. His last two words stung Starscreams core, he never wanted to fail, he tries not to. Megatron would never know the guilt Starscream feels watching Decepticons perish from failure knowing that he was the one commanding them. Starscream would never voice it.

He would rather die than to provide any semblance of information on his emotional regulation to Megatron. Especially Megatron. 

Starscream didn’t know when he started to back step, or when his wings became flat against the entry door that did not open on his whim, “Megatron, sir, I-“ His words were stuck in his throat as Megatron loomed over the seeker with his approach and although Starscream was not ideally aware of his current expressions he held onto the idea to fight back against the brute. Just as before. He was not a coward, at least not in front of his leader.

Megatron was silent to his attempts to verbally defend himself. Only a grim expression on his face in response.

The first hit came fast and without warning, a punch to his gut, close to his cockpit that threatened to shatter had he aimed higher. He rasped at the sudden hit. As quickly as he had been hit the first time, a second quickly followed, aimed for his jaw. Starscream reeled from the hit but managed to recover from the onslaught and immediately went on the offensive. He threw a well aimed hit to Megatron's helm, reaching to bridge the gap. Barely a sound came from the leader of the Decepticons, not even a stagger. Megatron was swift in his movement, much faster than Starscream expected, and within seconds he felt the malicious hand of his leader wrapping around his throat, pinning him against the door.

Starscream struggled against Megatrons hand, his own flailing hand hitting the keypad on the side of the door almost frantically while his other hand attempted to swipe and claw at the brute in an attempt to get him off. Megatron’s grip on his neck became tighter and he gasped, not for air, but rather the uncomfortable and painful feeling of the wires being squeezed beneath the casing, his vocalizer straining with the pressure.

Megatron seemed amused by his attempts, a slight chuckle escaping his lips which made Starscream glare back at him in response, “Did you think I was going to let you leave that easily?” The question led a sinister connotation behind it and Starscream belatedly coiled in on himself from it. It was all a sadistic plan to trap the seeker in, to keep him from leaving. It was starting to become a more dire situation as Starscream realized that this might be more than just a normal physical punishment. This is something worse.

"You've gone binary!" Starscreams vocalizer rattled as he stared back at his leader with a scowl behind the pained expression. Megatron only laughed in response.

With one free hand, Starscream tried to activate a missile, aiming it at his helm. Megatron caught his action immediately and ripped off missile housing, throwing it to the ground in a crumple of shards of metal. It was a miracle that it didn’t set off from the throw. Pain then erupted from his arm and it earned a pained wail from the seeker. Megatron's hand tightened around his neck, Starscream's other hand held in place by Megatron, keeping it in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. 

Unsatisfied, he shifted Starscream upwards against the wall, painstakingly dragging his wings against the wall which pulled them down in an awkward and painful position. The metal scraped against the slick wall, pulling paint with it before it settled when Megatron stopped pushing him. 

Starscream eventually resorted to kicking while his other hand attempted to flex and reach to attempt to claw Megatron’s arm to inflict discomfort or pain. Anything to get the brute to release his neck, as his vocalizer felt like it was being painstakingly crushed through his leaders iron grip. He was quite adamant that Megatron would probably enjoy a silent Second In Command, but he also felt that his twisted leader enjoyed hearing him in pain, whether or not he had to elicit those sounds forcibly.

Megatron was frightfully amused by his flailing and kicking but seemed to grow tired of Starscream’s desperation and a pede went down on his knee coupler. It immediately broke from the force, making Starscream scream out in pain. 

Megatron laughed through his wails, “You live up to your name, Starscream. If only you had complied, like you are told to, things would’ve been different.” His words sparked a flame of anger and humiliation, reminding him of the suffering he inflicted on him prior. He was disgusting, and ruthless. How could he be so sparkless?

“How dare you! How dare you!” Starscream blurted out, strained from Megatron’s hold, the vocalizer staticky and even more gravelly from the strain that Megatron had caused. He was seeing red and although the pain in his body increased with his thrashing, he was desperate to do anything and everything to enact pain on him. His failure was constant and now he had humiliated himself further through the pain he was causing himself.

Megatron stared back at the seeker who was suspended against the wall, Starscream was still thrashing and kicking with his good leg and Megatron found it mildly irritating, “Anger drives the spark Starscream, it’s disappointing how pathetic you look.” He spoke brazenly.

Starscream’s anger knew no bounds, his glare could’ve melted metal if it believed it to, “Comment however you want, you will pay! You will pay for this!” His yell was grating and Megatron winced with its volume before, unexpectedly, Starscream used his good leg to kick the leader in the knee which successfully managed to get his grip to release.

However, the landing reignited his pain on his release. It sent a wave of burning that cascaded through his leg and up his body like an aftershock. Starscream took most of his willpower to not scream again and as a result he shook violently instead. His wings remained bent downward and his leg twisted from the fall. He was leaving behind a puddle of energon in his attempts to crawl and he could care less of the mess he made. 

Megatron had recovered from the kick and pulled the seeker back to him, gripping Starscream’s injured leg, “You’ve tested my patience long enough. You will come to know your purpose, I’ll just have to show you.” His words made Starscream dread his next moves and he looked at Megatron with a wide eyed look as he attempted to scramble and kick at his leader. Megatron’s expression did not change, showing no signs as to what was to come but Starscream had possible knowledge as to what was going to happen next.

Megatron’s hand gripped the broken leg, dragging the poor seeker to the berth at the other end of the room as he cried out in pain. He begged to his leader for mercy, pleading that the pain was enough punishment. All were lost on deaf ears. All in vain to his fate. 

Chapter Text

The Autobots felt invigorated with their win. They hadn’t had such a large impact on the war until this moment. Although it wasn’t much, it was still exhilirating nonetheless. Without Engex, the night felt bland but Autobots alike were happy to eat a little more that evening. Optimus did not engage in the festivities, his priorities were in a different part of his processor and he wasn't able to provide proper celebratory behavior for the party goers of the Autobot faction, not that it had ever deterred them anyway. 

The failure of the Decepticons had Optimus reeling in confusion and while Megatron was not present, Starscreams inability to control the situation was strange. Maybe it was intentional, but the way that Starscream was cornered didn't seem planned. Optimus felt something else was going on and he didn't know what. Optimus hovered around the main console and stared at the map as if a signal would appear if he stared long enough. 

Bumblebee approached Optimus when he noticed the leader failing to join the festivities, "Something the matter?" Bee asked as he looked at the stoic bot. Optimus glanced at Bee with a small smile, "I'm just fine, thinking on the victory we had earlier." Optimus said thoughtfully, Bee gave him a sympathetic look before glancing at the console which was barren with nothing but the landscape of dusty Nevada. Bee leaned on the table with a cube of Energon looking up at Optimus, "You look confused, we should happy about our wins," Bee stated enthusiastically while Optimus didn't share the sentiment, "While I am happy with our triumph, something isn't right and I believe it has something to do with either Megatron or Starscream." Optimus explained sullenly, which partially dampened the mood that Bee held in that moment. 

Bee made a noise that sounded similar to a sigh, shaking his head but something that seemed familiar crossed Bee's face and Optimus stared at him curiously, "I did.. hear something before we did that assault. It was from Starscream." Bee spoke honestly as he glanced up at Optimus, taking a sip from the Energon cube in his hand. Optimus only raised an optic ridge at his statement, silently voicing him to continue. 

"I didn't think much of it, I mean you know how Starscream and Megatron are. They've always been.. physical, even verbal. That much is obvious." Bee continued, putting his attention on the Autobot leader. Optimus seemed intrigued to know what he witnessed and Bumblebee set the stage for the moments leading up to the flank. 

Prior to the Autobot assault, Starscream had been on his comm-link, patrolling in a part of the mine that wasn't particularly occupied by many bots. Though his post was temporarily abandoned, Thundercracker and Skywarp had it handled while the seeker held a relatively private conversation. Much to Bumblebee's surprise, Starscream didn't notice them creeping up in their flank positions. In fact, the seeker seemed engrossed in a heated conversation with someone on the other line of the comm-link. Starscream was exasperated, clawing the mine wall out of frustration while his voice mumbled out obsceneties to, at this point assumed-to-be, Megatron. 

"Understand this, you gloating aft, I am not in any mood to take this venom from you. I already explained this morning's hitch and this constant verbal assault through message pings is getting quite annoying!" Starscream kicked at a small piece of debris, sending it flying towards where Bumblebee was hiding. Bumblebee ducked behind his cover and watched the rest unfold. Starscreams berating continued before it ceased entirely and his frame almost appeared to rattle in place, wings in a downed position, held tight to his frame. Whatever Megatron said made Starscream's expression completely sober in a complex fear.  

Starscream took a moment to gather his composure, wings flicking upwards quickly before his gaze wandered around the proximity of his location. He was taut, high-strung in moments and he was relatively back to normal, "Let me hold my position with poise, and you hold your malice with pride. We will figure this out later, whether or not I want it." His response was partially cordial and partially dull, not as alarming to Bumblebee at the time he heard it. Starscream ended the call with mostly silence and stood there for a minute, appearing to contemplate returning to his position.

Starscreams indifference as he walked back to the main group was apparent but Bumblebee never really gave thought to Starscreams behavior and readied himself behind cover for the flank. He commed in that he was in place and then began the assault.

"Thats all I witnessed, I never thought anything of it but what Starscream said at the end stuck with me, I don't know... Maybe something else is going on further than the norm that we are used to." Bumblebee reasoned, unsure if his concern was anything. Although, he wouldn't call it concern, Starscream was not the nicest bot and never has been. He had a lot of heinous crimes under his belt and they continue to pile on as the war rages. Even so, Starscream was not a bot to be tied down and these nuances that were appearing seemed to raise quite the red flag to Bumblebee and now Optimus. 

Optimus hummed in thought, his expression unchanging to this new information, "We will keep an eye on Starscream," He said after a moment of silence as his gaze returned to the empty console. Bee looked at him with an expression of surprise, “Are you sure? Should this be brought up to the others?”  Bee asked, standing a bit straighter than before. 

Optimus shook his head lightly, “I will speak with them at a later time. Not when the festivities are high.” Optimus breathed out a small sigh while Bee watched him a bit longer, “You need rest too.”

“I’ll rest when I get the time to. Go on, enjoy the party. I’ll be here.” Optimus smiled at Bee and motioned for him to join the rest who were engaged in a Cybertronian variant of Charades and other miscellaneous games to keep themselves entertained. 

Bumblebee reluctantly left the stoic leader to his own devices, slow to return to the group as he glanced back at Optimus but nevertheless rejoined the others. 

While Optimus loathed the thought of something changing, he hoped it meant for open possibilities for the future. He repeated a mantra of words in his processor to keep himself grounded in moments of doubt. 

‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.’

All of which included Decepticons, he told himself. He repeated it again, and again. And again. He only faltered when the console suddenly lit up for a slight moment, following the trail of a Decepticon signal. His eyes pondered the signal, watching it move fast across meters of land, shifting into two signals when the console zoomed in. 

And he repeated the mantra again.

Chapter Text

Each swift turn was met with a loud whistle as the air was being split in two by their wings. The noise was sharp, piercing the audials of the blue and purple seekers as they travelled forward towards an unknown destination. Thundercracker didn’t care, he had long come to get used to the noise while Skywarp was a bit more susceptible and cringed on hearing it. 

The air crackled with Thundercracker's growing irritation and anger. It fizzled and swarmed around the blue seekers frame like a conjured snake warped in flame, it was fast and slithered with purpose. Skywarp kept a distance had TC decide to crack the wind and create a thunderclap unintentionally. Warp was cautious to make sure he wasn’t to be caught in it. 

They were approaching a speed that was close to breaking the sound barrier and Skywarp had to warn him to keep his distance in check before Thundercracker decided to slow down and keep a hover speed next to Skywarp. 

Thundercracker felt so much malice in his spark in this moment that the shared bond was flooded with it. He wanted to break down in rage, coil around every living being and crush them until the insides gushed out like a bloody fountain. A sentiment that was shared silently by Skywarp, although TC could see he had a lot to say but didn’t know how to word it. They both were angry, just in different ways.

They landed in a nearby clearing, one of the small rare instances where there was tree lines and a skyline filled with nothing but the cascade of the magnified sunset. Hues of pinks, blues and oranges reflected on every surface, including the seekers. Their frames were glowing with its whimsical light. Though they weren’t here to enjoy the view.

Skywarp sat awkwardly on the ground. His wings were stiff and held high, a testament to his emotions that were raging beneath the facade of somebot who often tried to maintain a certain level of clumsy confidence. His EM field was showered in uncertainty with faint crackles of anger or frustration mixed in.

Thundercracker stayed standing, replaying the moments leading up to this last minute decision, one that he didn’t agree to but Skywarp pulled him into. He crossed his arms begrudgingly, stuck in a memory loop inside his processor. Both were waiting on something. 

The ping from Starscream was sudden. It was breems later, almost entirely the next solar cycle and there was a point where the seeker siblings were precarious in their concern. Thundercracker and Skywarp knew that Starscream’s initial plan to confront Megatron wasn’t going to work to some extent, but the punishment was longer than expected. Nothing considered out of the ordinary.

It wasn’t the first time Starscream had taken the hit for most, if not all, of the army. Especially for the trines behavior. Starscream would usually be battered, almost broken beyond repair and it usually occurred during one cycle or, on rare occasions, multiple cycles. Starscream’s thoughts on the matter were lost to the two. Though, it was clear that the silver seeker didn’t enjoy being a punching bag, he voiced it on continuous occasions, his personal issues relating to the abuse was lost to his brothers. 

It was common knowledge that the abuse between the leader and the SIC were predictable and consistent. Skywarp and Thundercracker would never be able to get a read on Starscream no matter how hard they tried. 

Starscream often kept his EM field close to his body, shut off, almost like Soundwaves. There were inklings of moments where it branched out and gave them a hint of what Starscream was feeling. But most oftentimes, Starscream kept to himself. It was infuriating to the two.

Both of the seeker siblings seemed to agree on the same point after talking to one another that morning; that whatever happened this time, was something close to the same that Starscream had experienced before. A repeat. 

Megatron was partially creative when it came to coming up with punishments. Most punishments weren’t the same or they were fragmented from old punishments with a different twist. This time was a repeat with no twist or fragment of difference. 

The ping just had the word ‘Help.’ written in it, directed to both of them, as well as coordinates that led to Megatron’s quarters. Skywarp and Thundercracker were up getting their morning cube when they received it and Warp wasted no time grabbing TC’s arm and warping them in front of the door to Megatron’s quarters. 

They found him sitting on the floor, having climbed himself out of an energon soaked berth. He was crumpled on the floor in a tangled mess of his own limbs. His leg was bent the wrong way and Energon mostly caked his frame. Starscream’s field was partially overwhelming when they came into contact with him, trying to lift him to stand. The EM Field crackled with turmoil and a mix of emotions that the seeker siblings didn’t understand or couldn’t interpret. They had never felt something like this. The bond was still closed off and trying to pick and prod the pieces of emotions would take multiple breems.

Starscream was mostly silent, save for a couple of hisses or moans from the pain of being moved around. When they would ask about what happened besides the assumed obvious, he would refuse to answer and his EM field would disappear into his frame, never to be felt again.

Skywarp could only keep to himself on the multitude of questions he wanted to ask. He looked to TC as he hoisted one side of Starscream, “Help me move him TC. We have to be careful with his leg.” He muttered to the blue seeker who stood to the side of them. Thundercracker moved over reluctantly, uncertain on what to do and grabbed Starscream's arm gently.

Thundercracker helped him silently, hoisting and moving Starscream’s leg as to not cause further damage. 

Then the smell is what hit them after a moment of readjustment, and pieces were coming together of what really happened besides the physical damage done to Starscream’s frame. 

The room reeked of a deep scent of transfluid; musky and gross as if the room hadn’t been aired out in a while. Though TC and Warp had never truly intruded in Megatron’s personal space, they never saw their leader as a messy bot much less somebot that could handle such a smell as this for more than a couple of breems.

Starscream’s frame and its remnants were a show that his pride was not only shattered in this altercation but his dignity as well. There was slimy residue from what was dried transfluid on the inner thighs of Starscream’s legs which made both of the brothers sparks twist in disgust at the sight. 

Starscream seemed to be too disoriented to really pay attention to his siblings reactions to anything.

Thundercracker was a volcano of emotions, and anger was his main one but he kept to himself. Skywarp didn't share his feelings either but carried Starscream with a stiff expression. Starscream continued to be silent all the way to the medical bay. 

Knockout was working on a nameless vehicon when they dragged Starscream's half-destroyed frame into the semi-organized medical bay. Knockout was annoyed at first to the sudden intrustion, "Can't you see I'm working-!?" Knockout was cut off upon setting his optics on Starscreams frame and he seemed to realize what this visit was for. Starscream was much less interested engaging in Knockouts meddling as the bot looked over his frame with partial concern and partial interest.

Knockout moved the vehicon to a different berth and instructed for Skywarp and Thundercracker to lay Starscream down on the main berth for evaluation. The purple and blue siblings complied with the red doctors orders and Starscream was leaned against the hard berth within a couple of kliks. Knockout was thorough in his examination, asking questions when needed which were met with one worded responses. The seeker siblings were at least content with some responses from their trine leader.

"Is there any extensive damage internally, that you know of, before I do a scan?" Knockout's voice cut through the chittering of the welding tool as he looked at Starscream who, at this point, looked exhausted.

“No,” Starscream droned in response, staring at the ceiling of the medbay with a partially lost look. He wasn’t fully grounded and he probably wouldn’t be until he was put in a proper recharge. Due to Skywarp and Thundercrackers concern over Starscream’s behavior, Knockout was quick to explain that he was probably put into a temporary shut down due to the injuries instead of a proper recharge which caused the strained ‘loopy’ behavior. 

Thundercracker wasn’t happy with Starscream’s lie. It was clear now, both of the seekers knew that Megatron did more than just physically damage him on the outside. Skywarp spoke softly to TC when Starscream had fallen into recharge as Knockout worked. 

“Something else is going on, he lied to Knockout.” Skywarp said, frowning as the red medic cleaned the silver seekers frame as delicately as possible. Wiping away the evidence of what could be Starscream’s worst experience. 

Thundercracker nodded with a deep sigh to Skywarps statement, “It has to do with Megatron and.. I’m quite certain that it’s relating to interfacing but..” TC didn’t know how to put his words into play. Giving to the fact that Starscream was possibly sexually assaulted by their leader was a large accusation to place out but also their trine leaders behavior mainly solidified it. 

Skywarp just gave him a small look of dejection, “If we had known… things might’ve been different.” He pouted to the blue seeker and TC kept a solemn expression as not to let himself spiral into negative emotions out of his control. 

“I know.” His words were weak in comparison to how he wanted to say them. He was supposed to be strong but knowing that their leader was possibly destroying Starscream’s mental state in a barbaric way destroyed him. It angered him.

Skywarps plan was unorthodox, they usually were, but this one was also quite far fetched. Thundercracker was not willing to entertain it at all and he gave Skywarp a look when it was suggested. 

They had talked for a while, sitting in their shared quarters, staring forlornly at the items that were strewn about that belonged to Starscream as if he were no longer alive. Even though he was alive and breathing, laying asleep in the medbay under watchful optic of Knockout.

Skywarp stood up suddenly, a scowl expressed itself onto his face, “This is binary! He’s a glitch, a slagging glitch! He’s always been one but he’s worse now!” Skywarps shrill yells could be heard into the halls if someone listened hard enough and Thundercracker strained from Warps loud volume. 

All he could do was nod as a helmache cascaded his processor, “I know, I understand.” He responded robotically, practically on autopilot. Skywarp held an angry pout at the Thunderaft sitting across from him and crossed his arms over his chassis as he sat back down.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” He groaned, waving his servos like he was a human toddler experiencing a tantrum for the first time. Thundercracker made his own noise of exasperation, “Arguing about this isn’t going to solve anything, it’s the whole reason why these events even happened.” Thundercracker muttered the wrong thing as he rubbed the front of his helm and Skywarp became almost hysterical, jumping up from his seat yet again, “So you’re saying it’s our fault that Star got assaulted?!” He wailed and Thundercracker lifted his head and grabbed onto Warps shoulders to sit him back down and make Warp focus on him

“No, no of course not! You know Megatron, Warp. He’s messed up and he would’ve called Star back even if he did something wrong, no matter how small!” Thundercracker grit his dentae, irritated with himself to even getting to this point of anger. Of course, he was mad at Megatron, just like Warp was. Skywarp was just childish in his way of handling situations like these. Skywarp was pouting again, this time a bit calmer than before. His shoulders slumped and he stared back at Thundercracker. TC only sighed, rubbing the side of his own cheek to soothe his gritting. He was irritated with the course of decisions made today.

“Should we even continue staying here?” Skywarps question was valid, it wasn’t the first time we went rogue as there were times when the leaders questionable choices led to rash results much to the dismay of the Decepticons. Starscream was adamant on leading on his own accord, wanting to make his own army and wouldn’t return. Of course, the decision was made without much thought and Starscream’s attempts to wrangle in Thundercracker and Skywarp into this plan took a lot of convincing. But there they were, back again, on the Nemesis with a more aggressive leader than before due to their desertion of the Decepticon cause. 

Thundercracker spent a minute reeling in his processor about the possibilities of leaving, again, and every situation reminded him of the danger they would be in if Starscream were to leave with them, but that was always the consequence of betraying Megatron. So, it wasn't entirely far fetched.

"We could leave, go rogue again. Maybe try to avoid the war as much as we can." Thundercracker was unsure as he offered the idea and Skywarp intook the information slowly, unsure how to feel about it as well. 

"Well, that goes against our coding.." Skywarp reasoned, more thinking on the fact of their absence from the war. Combat was something that they were trained for, worked hard for. Absence in war was something they weren't used to and to completely abandon their training was a difficult task. Thundercracker knows this. All he could do was vent, "I don't know." Skywarp gave him a sympathetic look, he understood Thundercrackers predicament and thought for him. He sent waves of comfort and reassurance through the shared bond, extending it to Starscream as well, who was quite shut off on the other side. Starscream returned his own waves back, a mixture of apologetic and thankful feelings through his less-than-eventful recharge. 

Skywarp's head flicked upwards with an idea, which impartially gives Thundercracker a sense of dread. Skywarps ideas were almost entirely deadly, from coming up with volatile pranks towards the crew aboard the Nemesis that could most easily offline someone on the right day, to long drawn out attacks on emotional sanity by repeating the same phrases or music. Skywarp was obnoxious, that much as apparent. His obnoxiousness carried with his hazardous plans as well. 

Thundercracker was well versed when a plan of his was going to be implemented or fail miserably. Warp didn’t have a devious look, in this instance, he seemed like he had a genuine idea. 

“What if we try and talk to the Autobots?” Warp asked, the idea was foreign but also not a first. Thundercracker was quick to decline the idea.

“No, absolutely not.” Thundercracker said with an inflection in his voice. He was losing it, at least he felt like it. Skywarp seemed to pout, “Why?” The question seemed stupid when offered, they never mingled with Autobots. They were on opposite sides and considered enemies. Starscream would’ve wholeheartedly agreed with Thundercracker and wouldv’e spent an entire minute lecturing Warp on the facts that the morals between Autobots and Decepticons were much different. That the Autobots would never understand their ways, their choices. 

Yet, Warp wasn’t stupid. In fact, he could be quite intelligent in some instances. He knew these things and yet he still asked as if the answer was going to be different, “You know why,” Thundercracker sighed and ignored the expression that Skywarp had on his face. The purple seeker wasn’t happy with this answer, maybe it was because he truly believed the idea would be one of his better ones. 

Skywarp didn’t agree to go rogue again, he hated the idea and TC couldn’t blame him. He hated going rogue too. But it was a much better idea than talking to the Autobots. At least, he felt that way until Starscream had woken up finally after the procedure was done with. 

Starscream looked better than when they found him, but his behavior had changed less. He was closed off but engaged more in conversation now. When they tried to approach him on the grounds of confirming their suspicions, he shut them down with a quick ‘No.’ and didn’t continue from there. 

Knockout was still present when the seeker siblings tried to talk with the SIC further about the incident. He had done a further examination during the procedural process to rebuild the knee joint. Also for the fact that Starscream still had remnants of the assault prior to being seen by Knockout anyway. 

Although Knockout cared for Starscream in some capacity, he wasn’t just going to allow Starscream to destroy himself and his trine with him. 

“I did some tests while Starscream was unconscious. After I rebuilt his knee joint, I did notice some peculiarities along the inner thighs and due to further investigation into the matter. It does look like his highness damaged further than just the outside. Contrary to what Starscream told me before the procedure began.” Knockout droned on, partially irritated that not everything was up to the state that Starscream supposedly said it was. But, it wouldn’t have been the first time. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp were irritated to a certain degree, Thundercracker more so than Skywarp. Knockout couldn’t blame them. As for Starscream, he was almost embarrassed, more ashamed than dismissive as he was kliks priors. The seeker siblings were mad at their trine leader, mad at him for trying to contain the truth and potentially trying to destroy his own life by withholding the information.

“What is wrong with you?!” Thundercracker couldn’t withhold his anger, he yelled at Starscream. Starscream took all of his anger, expecting it, but it still didn’t hurt less. 

“I’m fine-“ Starscream tried to interject through his snarling, Thundercracker cut him off, “No, you’re not. Megatron did something heinous, and you just wanted to hide that from us! Have you gone binary? Do you think his actions were something worthy of hiding?” TC growled, a toothy scowl reaching his lips. 

Starscream shook his head vehemently, “No, of course not!” He yelled back, disagreeing with the fact that he felt Megatron should get away with what happened to him. Thundercracker at least felt gratified that that was the answer he was looking for, “Then why? Why attempt to hide it?”  He asked. 

Starscream had opened his mouth to say something when his hands gripped the berth and his frame froze. Thundercracker and Skywarp were confused at first until they followed Starscream’s gaze. 

Megatron sauntered in at a slow pace, a sadistic grin covering his lips, showing the fanged dentae, “What’s going on in here?” He asked, obscenely curious at to what kind of conversation that the seekers were having. 

Skywarp was the first to say something, “Nothing, sir.”  He said quietly. Megatron seemed even more interested, “It didn’t sound like nothing, what kind of commotion started?” He asked, this time looking at Starscream who stared at Megatron like he had grown a second head.

“Nothing, my liege. My trine were just upset with me for being incapacitated.” The lie came quickly and smoothly. Megatron seemed to take in this answer with some thought, “I see, there has been some relapses due to your incapacitation. See to it that you return to your normal schedule as quickly as possible. Otherwise, we will have more issues.” Megatron stated with a malicious tone as he stared down at Starscream who had a death grip on the berth underneath him. 

Starscream was the one to break the eye contact. His  newly repaired wings hung low, and Megatron seemed satisified with Starscream’s lack of response. 

The large mech sauntered out of the room, dragging with him a field of malicious gratification that made Thundercracker sick to his tank. The reality of the situation made it worse and the anger that TC felt only increased, this time directed towards the Decepticon leader. Skywarp stood next to Starscream, unsure on what to do next but he looked towards TC who was staring at the door where Megatron left. Seemingly making his decision. 

The sounds of the natural world of Earth were louder, insects of many types crawled around the dormant seekers. Other animals, such as deer and rabbits scrambled away with every shift from their foreign frames. 

The sun had long set and Thundercracker took up refuge next to Skywarp who was drawing with his digit in the mud. It was more than a couple of kliks but Skywarp assured Thundercracker they would show. It was going to take a minute. 

TC was impatient, and even more so when the light of the ground bridge opened up nearby. Filling the void of Earths nature with staticky energy that crackled at the edge of their EM Fields. 

Walking through were who they expected, Optimus Prime, accompanied by Autobot lackeys, Bumblebee and Arcee who seemed none the wiser to entertain the two exhausted seekers. Both of the lackeys had their blasters raised while Optimus Prime stared with a skeptical but guarded look. His battle mask was up, preventing them from reading his relatively easy emotions.

Skywarp was the first to get up and the first to get aimed at, though the purple seeker didn’t seem to care all that much. 

“So I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here?” He asked, quite dully to the point that Thundercracker had to kick his calf to get him to be more engaged. Skywarp gave him a look in response. 

The Autobots were not amused and kept a strain on both of them. Skywarp gave a weary smile to them, “Listen, I know this is weird. I’m not the brother that does the talking, this is weird to me too.” Warp put his servos up in a surrender motion, showing them he was unarmed and had no intentions of activating his weapons. 

Thundercracker rolled his optics and stood up after Skywarp earning him the same guarded treatment which made the blue seeker care less, “Starscream is in trouble. We all are, truthfully, but this time is worse. A lot worse. It’d be better if he’d speak for this himself but he hates talking about anything involving himself.” TC spoke out, cutting off Skywarps attempts to say anything further. 

Skywarp only just nodded with his words, looking directly at the three Autobots. Still skeptical, and now confused. 

Optimus was the first to speak after a painful moment of silence, “Explain. What do you mean Starscream is in trouble?” His voice was strong and with purpose, he seemed willing to hear out whatever request they may had to the dismay of Arcee and Bumblebee who gave disapproving looks towards Optimus’ direction. 

Thundercracker sighed as he continued, “Megatron.. he’s..” He struggled to find the words, Skywarp interrupted, “Lets just say Megatron hurt him again. But it’s different. It’s barbaric. More so than what our leader would’ve done.” Warp interjected, trying to be discreet in his wording. 

As much as they wanted to outright say what they both were thinking, the story was not theirs to tell and they didn’t know all the details. There was a lot Starscream was hiding and they were unsure of how much he was hiding.

Optimus seemed to take this information in before speaking again, “It’s crude to say, but is this specifically different from the normal abuse?” The question was rude in a sense but was not intended to be. From Optimus, it seemed almost courteous but it was an insult to Starscream’s upheld dignity. One that Skywarp and Thundercracker took offense to.

It must’ve shown on their expressions because Optimus interjected before the siblings could reply, “I see.” He said, his voice was somber in tone. 

The seeker siblings looked at each other for a moments glance, “His abuse is not a reality that should become entertainment, it’s unprecedented and unpredictable. There is no normal abuse.” Thundercracker hissed, anger resonated from his frame, disgusted with the opinions of the opposite faction. Skywarp kept the distance between him and the others, chittering quiet words of assurance to TC to try and calm him down. 

Optimus stayed witness to this moment and hung his head partially, “I apologize. It was not my intent to offend you both. The extent of the incidents were only surface-level at best to us. My men make assumptions. As do I. I will hold myself to it and for others.” Optimus spoke like he understood the world and his compassion towards the enemy seekers made it hard to stay mad at him but TC’s anger was contained and brewing.

Skywarp took over, “We need help. We’re not sure what to do. Going rogue has never worked for us, and it’s clear to us at this point that Starscream is being targeted by Megatron due to these attacks.” Warp sighed, crossing his arms. 

“So you call for us to come drag you out of this situation? Fat chance.” Arcee’s brash voice cut through the air and both the seekers tensed with her interjection. 

Thundercracker turned to the femme, still upset about earlier, “We wouldn’t have come to this point if we had any other ideas! Megatron is relentless! Yeah, sure, let’s fly to another part of Earth where our locators give us away! Oh frag have to move locations, again, because Megatron is tailing us!” Thundercracker felt like he was losing his mind as he outwardly displayed the obvious signs of reason why they couldn’t just leave and hide. They had no ulterior motive besides survival. 

If Starscream was considered to Megatron as his disgusting play-thing then they were stuck with the constant suspicion that Megatron was always going to be trained on him by either himself or Soundwave. The Autobots would never understand it. No, they wouldn’t. Because their leader was not marginally insane like theirs was. 

“Ugh! Whatever! I’m done with this, this idea was absolutely stupid. Warp, lets go!” Thundercracker yelled out, throwing his hands up exasperated and throwing a explosive tantrum. Electricity crackled around TCs frame and Skywarp had a take a step back from getting electrocuted. 

The anger reached a breaking point and the dirt broke underneath TC as the electricity traveled to the ground. It split into pieces, and then followed the sound of a quake as Thundercracker moved on, stomping away. The Autobots took their own steps back, uncertain, concerned and suspicious. Skywarp gave them a sheepish look, “We will be back.. at a later time. It’s just a lot to handle right now.” The purple seeker said before running after Thundercracker, leaving the stunned Autobots behind. 

“Should we follow them?” Arcee asked, looking at Optimus who only shook his head in response, unsure what to make of what just happened, "No, I'm confident that they will return, possibly accompanied by Starscream.” Optimus sighed as he took a moment to recollect on the information that both seekers shared. If it was true, as hard as it was to believe, then there was more to it than just the war and Optimus wouldn’t know how to proceed knowing this information.

Chapter Text

The Nemesis resumed its normal operations once the sun had risen, bustling vehicons scrambled through the halls to get their cube and Starscream was one of the first that was seen getting his. The mess hall was chaos and Starscream strained his audials listening to the chatter of the energized vehicons ready for work. Skywarp and Thundercracker had returned to the ship late into the night but spent enough time in recharge to be late that morning. 

The instance made Starscream wonder just where his brothers had went but he didn’t question them on it when the two came sauntering into the hall with drowsy expressions and subdued attitudes. Though they seemed chipper to see Starscream up and moving.

They were the first to greet Starscream that morning who only responded with a small "Hello" but otherwise seemed like normal. He handed them their cubes which they took gladly, “You both were out late,” Starscream remarked briefly as he looked at the blue and purple seekers. 

They both shared a look before saying anything. TC was the first to start, “Yeah, it was important. Which is something we need to talk about.” He stated as he leant against the counter, sipping his cube slowly in an attempt to savor it. Skywarp on the other hand downed it without spilling a drop, an action that earned a small look from Starscream. 

The honesty from Thundercracker prompted Starscream to ask, “What kind of importance?” His curiosity was peeked but he also was suspicious. They were known for their interesting plans, especially Skywarp. So some concern was in the mix.

“It’s private, better to be talked about when the eyes and ears of the Decepticon army isn’t within 100 feet.” TC grumbled as he flicked his helm in a direction. To the right of the entrance of the mess hall was Soundwave, sitting idly with his untouched cube on the table. He seemed to be partially engaged in listening to whatever the seekers had to say while also splitting his attention to his cassettes and some passing bots.

Starscream shook his head, finishing his cube and starting to walk out, “Lets go. I’d rather not be here any longer.” He was disturbed by the fact that he knew Soundwave was intruding, although it wasn’t the first. The telepath had more than one way of showing that he knew about something that was, under the impression of, being private information. Starscream had his fair share of moments with the TIC.

The siblings agreed with his statement and followed him as they made their way to the landing strip. The walk was quiet, though Starscream would occasionally glance back at the duo, more so looking behind them than at them. The paranoia was there, it was small but there. It was enough to make TC and Warp give concerned glances towards each other.

“Away from the Nemesis is the best way to talk.” Starscream sighed quietly once they made it to the landing strip. The doors opened with a loud thud, making him jump slightly. He silently cursed the Nemesis’ clunky machinery for his jitteriness. 

“We needed to patrol anyway, I’d rather avoid Megatron’s sight for the remainder of this week if I can.” The red seeker added as he crossed his arms. He walked to the edge of the landing strip with TC and Warp following him to the edge, "We agree." Warp said as he transformed, the other two seekers following through, "We have a lot to talk about." Thundercracker chimed in as they took off towards a predetermined destination.

They traveled for a couple of miles before landing in a spot, a clearing of trees. Nearby, lodged in the dirt, was half of a large ship that appeared to be Cybertronian in origin. It was known as the Harbinger,  but it was only a portion of the transport ship and Starscream stared at it forlornly, partially irritated that the ship had nothing of use besides its main control systems. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp landed beside him, gazing at the wreckage with a newfound sense of wonder but also regret. The transport ship held allies, allies that were more than likely long dead by this present time.

Starscream paced around the edges of the torn ship, staring at the damage before looking back at the two seekers, “You wanted to talk to me about something?” He asked openly, both of them seemed nervous to start the conversation.

Starscream was relatively normal, save for a couple of unconscious tells. He would shift abnormally on his pedes, consciously holding both arms, crossing them over his chassis. An expression of disgust would flash across his features and the seeker siblings would forward their sympathy to him. 

“It’s about Megatron,” His name ignited an expression of irritation from the SIC and he stared at the two, “What about him?” Thundercracker sighed as tried to organize his words carefully, he didn’t want to trigger Starscream into a fit of rage. As has happened before.

“We know he hurt you, Star, and this time it’s gone too far. You’ve seen his behavior. We think it’s because of the search for Dark Energon that he’s become even more crazed than usual.” TC said cautiously, watching the red seekers movements and expressions. 

Starscream took in his words with a moment of silence, “I’ve noticed some changes. But I think it’s due to exposure. Hopefully not consumption.” He hummed to himself, in audial range to his brothers, “What is your point?” The question pegged an emotion of confusion from Thundercracker and Skywarp. They were unsure if Starscream truly was incapable of realizing the circumstances of his situation or he was just ignoring it to save face. 

Thundercracker approached him, grabbing his arm firmly but with no intent to harm him. Getting overrun with anger wasn’t his approach, harming Starscream would only make things worse, as much as his processor was telling him to knock some sense into the seeker. 

“Listen to us, you are in danger. Even more so now if he’s decided to pursue Dark Energon. From what Warp and I can see, it’s like an obsession and a volatile one at that.” TC explained with a serious expression, trying to push the narrative. Starscream was smart but stubborn and he had a position of authority in the Decepticon ranks. He felt his purpose was needed which was hard to bypass as a bot that had no ‘God-Given’ ability. He fought for his rank, suffering through to make ends meet. Thundercracker and Skywarp knew his sacrifices, although they didn’t agree with him on it and they never will. 

Starscream seemed to contemplate his words as he stared at Thundercrackers arm with a deep malicious stare. He was never one to like being touched. 

“Megatron is relentless, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, there is no way out. He will use Soundwave to find me, find us. Going rogue never helped us and never got us anywhere.” Starscream challenged, a statement that reminded TC of the conversation he had with Skywarp about the possibility of going rogue. It was like listening to a holotape on repeat. An annoyance at best. Thundercracker had heard worst.

“The Autobots,” Skywarp intervened, stepping up close to them and pulling Thundercracker’s hand away from Starscream’s arm. Starscream was immediately disgruntled at the mention of the enemy faction, much to the expectancy of the seeker siblings, “What about the Autobots?” He asked with a partial venom. He never ‘hated’ the Autobots, it was more of a form of partial respect. Although he had his opinions on the selection of bots on Primes team. 

Thundercracker intervened, “Listen, I mean it, actually listen. I didn’t like the idea either but you know how Warp is with his stupid ideas. We briefly spoke to them-“ Starscream became even more exasperated as Thundercracker failed to finish sentence. 

“You did what?!” He shrieked, vocalizer straining with his volume and the red seeker cringed. He held a servo to his own throat and TC gently touched his shoulder,  “I know, it was a horrible idea,” He stated, giving a look to Skywarp who gave a sheepish but mischievous smile. Warp held no regret to his decisions.

Thundercracker continued, “But, they listened to us. Well, I should say Optimus did.” Skywarp was the next one to intervene, “Yeah, until TC lost his cool and ran off!” Warp piped up and the blue seeker gave him a glare which was met with a shrug of contentment as a response from the purple seeker. 

Starscream seemed partially mortified, he didn’t want to talk to the Autobots, they would never understand. He would just be held prisoner for information, as he was on multiple prior occasions. His concern stretched to his brothers as well, flooding the bond with flicks of stress and caution. 

TC pulled him out of his thoughts, returning the feelings with fleeting marks of calm emotions, “Star, we’re here with you. We don’t want to do this either but it doesn’t seem like our leader is sane anymore. I think he’ll end up killing you.. or worse.” The blue seeker attempted to comfort him and Skywarp made it inherently worse, “Death is the worst thing, what could possibly be worse that that?” He asked but was shut up pretty quickly when both of the seekers gave him a look of annoyance. 

“I’m worried…” Starscream admitted to them. His servo rubbed the cabling around his neck as if that would soothe the crackling felt internally. His voice was strained from the cycle before and he was only making it worse. 

“He could kill you both.” Starscream continued quietly, “I don’t want that to happen.” There were moments like these that the red seeker would give them inklings, moments of affection or worry for the others. TC and Warp always knew he cared, he had a different way of showing it, but it still felt nice to hear it.

They gave him a look of empathy, “The feeling is shared, Star. We’re much stronger than you can ever imagine.” TC assured, hesitantly enveloping the red seeker who didn’t immediately return the gesture. TC wasn't offended, he never was when it came to loving Starscream. It was known for years that affection was a tough spot to overcome and they wouldn’t stop now from continuing to try.

Skywarp piled in, holding both of them tightly, “Brothers. In one.” Warp chirped, placing his helm against theirs. Starscream reluctantly returned the affection, “Brothers.. in one.” He repeated softly, as if trying to convince himself the same. 

Megatron was in a chipper mood which made most of the crew extremely anxious to his next move. No matter his mood, Megatron was volatile and no one wanted to be on the other side of it. He was sitting in the command room when Starscream entered, his trine in tow and Megatron was active to greet the three.

“Glad to see my second in command could join the briefing and with his trine mates to accompany him," He stated indictively, staring at Starscream before sharing his gaze to the purple and blue bots beside him. Thundercracker didn’t hold back a glare to the leader, his anger still very much present.

Megatron only chuckled at his glare, unaffected, “Use that anger for todays skirmish, Thundercracker.” Megatron grinned at the blue seeker who held unbridled malice for the leader. Starscream on the other hand felt more nervous than the other two, conflicted and confused about what Megatron was saying.

“What skirmish?” Starscream asked, looking at Megatron who returned his gaze, “Soundwave was able to locate a signal, an artifact that could be of great use to us in this war. We must excavate this artifact from this planets earth. ” Megatron stated, expressing with his hands just how exhilarated he was to get something valuable. It disturbed Starscream but he kept his gaze on him. Concerned that if he looked away for a klik that Megatron would pounce on him again. 

His tense frame didn’t go unnoticed but wasn’t mentioned. Megatron didn’t care to say anything about Starscream’s behavior, rather it seemed he relished in his second in commands caution. 

“Most of the briefing has concurred. I suggest that you ready the troops for the excavation. Or, shall I do it for you?” It didn’t take a mindless drone to figure out that the tone Megatron held was a threat. Still holding that wide smile, he watched as Starscream shook his helm firmly, “No, I can handle it, I’ll rally the troops.” He stated, staring a hole in the leaders face as if he’d look hard enough it would melt on command. 

Megatron seemed pleased with that answer and returned to a full standing position, “Wonderful.” The word felt sickly coming from his lips and Starscream held a cringe in as the silver mech turned on his struts and left.

Whatever tenseness Starscream felt was drained from him and he felt exhausted in that moment, ‘What was that?’ Confused, he peered down at his frame, not understanding his sudden change. But he could see that he was fine. Pristine and clean as he was before the incident. 

Skywarp approached him, touching his servo to bring him back to the present, “Hey, let’s go get those troops. You okay?” He asked, analyzing Starscream’s expressions and body language, as if he understood. Which he really didn’t. 

Starscream moved his hand away, “I’m uh.. I’m fine. Let’s go.” He turned around, walking back the way they came. He turned down the hall with a rushed walk and headed towards the barracks. Warp and TC followed with a increased steps to keep up with him. 

The barracks was a short walk with the trine, walking up to its door, “Why haven’t you made you choice yet? We’ve given you an out..” Thundercracker was the first to talk after the couple of kliks of selected silence. Starscream gave him a look, “Are you binary? Going with them is a mindless idea, no matter if they agreed with it!” He whisper-yelled at him, minding his volume as they were close to very nosey bots. 

TC gave him a look as if a realization came to be known, “You don’t believe us, do you?” He asked and Starscream gave him a awry glance, “No, of course I believe you both.” He stammered softly. 

Denial. Denial. Denial. 

Moments like these, Starscream was a horrible liar. His wings also gave him away, a twitch in his left wing showed them both that he was partially lying. TC was not amused but Starscream didn’t have time to give him any thought. He opened the door with a quick flick of a code and it disappeared into the wall with a thud. 

The vehicons looked their way and the next thing the trine knew they were doing, they were corralling troops towards the landing strip for the skirmish. Starscream gave a small lecture on formations and keeping up-to-date on the active training to the aerial troops with slighted confidence, something that the seeker siblings loved seeing. It was clear that Starscream’s passion was to lead and he enjoyed being a figure of authority. Even if at times he could be considered entitled or egotistical. 

They weren’t given much of a chance to bring the earlier topic back up as they were forced onto the field to provide additional coverage in case things went south. Skywarp and Thundercracker were in position with the troops and separated from Starscream, who was disgruntled, and standing near their leader. 

Starscream was uncomfortable, he could feel the Decepticon leaders EM field from his distance. It touched the edges of his frame, crackling with excitement and anticipation, emotions that made Starscream nauseous. Not only was Megatron intensely interested in the recovery of the artifact, but he purposely extended his EM field to Starscream. Starscream could only theorize as to why. He believed that maybe the leader thought that Starscream could share his excitement for this newfound revelation but Starscream was no overly optimistic mech when it came to objects of power. 

Artifacts felt out of place in the war and he had voiced it on multiple occasions. It felt unjust to use precarious items, especially with the caution that with just one mistake it could be turned against them. But Megatron did not think like that and every instance of disagreement was met with physical violence. 

Starscream had never looked at Megatron the same since their last encounter. But when has he ever saw eye to eye to him?

He felt nauseous again, intensely so. He bit his lip to keep himself from purging his tanks then and there. This was a skirmish, and he had no intentions of drawing attention to himself or others for any cause for punishment. Yet, Megatron always found something to nitpick.

“Something the matter, commander?” Megatron’s tone was mocking, low and quiet in volume. He had gotten closer to the red seeker in the kliks that Starscream was focused in on himself. Spaced out from the action around them. 

Starscream stepped back, his wings shifting upwards and tensing with his frame, “Nothing, I’m fine, My Liege.” Starscream failed to look at his leader, he didn’t want to look him in the optics. Worried for his safety, worried for his trinemates safety. 

Megatron kept quiet for a moment, looming over the seeker with a tight EM field. He was suspicious, that much Starscream knew from the limited information and his current behavior.

His frame continued to be tense even as Megatron moved away, observing the progress of the mining from their current view. Megatron’s mood was dampened, and he held a frown on his lips. Relatively normal, save for the certain look in his optics that made Starscream want to run. 

Every waking thought that flashed through Starscream’s processor was harsh and as fast as light. Each one yelling at him that he was in danger and he had to make sure no adrenaline protocol was launched. His wings chittered in place, twitching as he looked to where Megatron was looking. 

As if on cue, the static in the air changed and in the midst of the vehicons mining were the Autobots. They appeared from the ground bridge with upmost confidence and direction, it made Starscream envious of their command. 

The fighting commenced, his trinemates included. All the while, Starscream stood beside Megatron. He wanted to fight, to help his brothers but even one step made Megatron glance his way with a certain wayward look and he remained put. He wasn’t being ordered to. But Megatron didn’t have to say much for him to obey. A forced protocol that would be difficult to overcome. 

The Autobots held their own, fighting for this signal that they became aware about minutes before. The mining crew unearthed it, it was stuck in a case. One that both factions were fighting over. 

“Do you see this assault Starscream?” Megatron’s words were gruff and irritated, he didn’t spare a glance to the seekers way. And when Starscream didn’t reply immediately, a servo gripped his arm and yanked him to his side. The action made Starscream yelp in surprise.

“Do. You. See. It.” Megatron spoke every word with articulation, clutching his arm like a lifeline and forcing him to look at the fight, forcing him to watch his brothers lose their battles with the bots. 

Starscream shuddered from the fear he felt in his core, nodding his head and trying to make himself appear small, “I do, sir.” He replied shakily, looking at Megatron with forced compliance. 

Megatron returned his gaze before throwing him forward, making the seeker fall and collide with the ground, “Return to me with that artifact, or should your punishment be more forward next time.” It was a promise and a threat, Megatron kept his word and it set in to Starscream that Megatron knew what had happened between them and he held no remorse for it. In fact, he promise more harm in the same way. 

He held no spark. Starscream convinced himself of that in this moment. 

The seeker stood quickly, intending on complying just for the sake of his liberty and for the safety of his brothers. His sudden entry into the battle was unexpected and the Autobots attempted to adjust accordingly. They knew that Starscream was bound to intervene but they didn’t expect him to do so, haphazardly. 

The seeker was, lack of a better word, clumsy and he stumbled to the artifact that was currently in the hands of one of the vehicons. Starscream reached for it only for Bumblebee to shoot it out of the vehicons hands and knock it away in a direction away from Starscream and the Autobots. 

Arcee at this moment made it her mission to retrieve it, and was seen already making her moves to get it. Starscream noticed and immediately rushed to grab it. Both bots collided, grabbing the container at the same time and playing a cautious game of tug-of-war with one another. 

“Give it to me you pest!” Starscream hissed, trying to kick the femme who only returned to courtesy by kicking him back with no loosening on her grip, “Never!” Arcee growled, kicking him again, this time harder than the last. It successfully faltered his grip and she wrangled it from his servos much to his dismay and made the seeker panic. 

The seeker activated his thrusters and pursued the femme when she went to make a run for it. His arm transformed into a blaster and he took aim at her, shooting the plasma rounds in her direction. Arcee was swift as she was smart and dodged accordingly, making it to Optimus who stood in Starscream’s way. 

Starscream halted his pursuit and landed on the ground with a thud, his blaster trained on Optimus now. His processor spiraled, he felt sick, and staring at Optimus made him feel like he was hallucinating. He stumbled on his pedes, which earned a small look from Optimus who continued to keep his stern gaze trained on the SIC. Although, it looked like he was partially concerned for the seekers wellbeing. 

The fight had halted momentarily due to the artifact being in the possession of the Autobots and clearly Optimus having the upper hand. Most of the vehicons were incapacitated or deceased and clearly their numbers were lacking now.

Megatron clearly wasn’t pleased with this outcome, having lost another battle to Optimus. He watched from afar before shouting, “Decepticons, Retreat!” His voice was boisterous and rumbled Starscream’s core, shaking him out of a daze as he looked towards his leader.

Megatron glared a hole into the seekers helm from where he stood, “If you succeed on returning, your death won’t be swift. I recommend you amend your mistake before coming back to the Nemesis. This is your only warning.” He hissed towards his second through the private comm before turning and disappearing into the ground bridge that appeared behind him.

The only other bots that didn’t retreat were his trinemates who came to Starscream’s aid, pulling him away and distancing him from Optimus. The Autobots stayed, some returning through their own ground bridge. 

Starscream was not okay, his entire frame was shaking as he tried to hold onto his brothers for support. He still held a partial glare towards Optimus, “This… this would’ve been avoided if you haven’t-“ Starscream started to grit out before the rush of nausea flooded his senses and he purged his tanks in front of them, clearly not expecting it.

Skywarp supported Starscream, looking to Thundercracker for assistance on what to do. Thundercracker couldn’t provide any insight before he glanced at Optimus, “He’s going to kill him if we return to the Nemesis.” He said seriously, which offset Optimus who had been observing this entire instance, alongside Arcee and Bumblebee.

The Prime was unsure of what to make of the situation, much less Starscream’s sickly reactions. They had never seen the seeker in such a vulnerable state, no matter the continuous attempts that the Decepticon second made to keep his composure. It was a failure. 

“I understand your concern but as you had said in our last conversation, it is Starscream’s decision.” Optimus vented as he looked at the worried brothers. Starscream snarled at Optimus, “What makes you think I’d accept any terms for staying under the Autobot guise when I would be held as an extensive prisoner for interrogation! I won’t be a slave to your morality code!” Starscream screeched out, his vocalizer glitching and malfunctioning with his volume. 

Optimus seemed taken aback by the accusation and winced at the word ‘slave’. He held no malice towards Starscream, even with the crimes he had committed and this behavior, he had to rationalize, was because of his reactions to whatever internal issues were occurring with Starscream’s frame. 

The red seeker took a moment get ahold of his thoughts before speaking again, “If I seek asylum with your faction will my brothers be safe?” The question was more calm than his last statement and Optimus took a moment to reflect his question. 

“We will keep your brothers safe with as much as protection as we can provide. Although your presence and your brothers are a threat to us Starscream. You wont be a… ‘slave’ to the Autobot morality. You will be treated with as much respect as you give but will have limited capabilities and might have to be cuffed.” Optimus reasoned with Starscream, while Arcee seemed to scoff at the idea of the seekers seeking refuge with them. 

Starscream had never felt this exhausted in his existence before, and he knew he was making a mistake deciding on this when he wasn’t of complete sound mind. But the ringing in processor and the warnings on his HUD telling him about his dropping levels were more convincing than whatever the Nemesis could provide him. 

“Fine.” He mumbled, “Do what you must.” He looked at Optimus who didn’t seem entirely too surprised by the decision but he looked towards Bumblebee, “Retrieve the stasis cuffs, we will need them for the seekers.” He ordered to the yellow scout, who nodded and went into the ground bridge to supply them. 

Skywarp and Thundercracker seemed relieved but only for a moment. Panic set in when Starscream’s frame felt heavier and the seeker leaned forward without a sound. 

“Starscream!” Warp yelled as he caught him from falling face first. Thundercracker kneeled to hold him as his body slumped against TC’s chassis. His optics were offline and it appeared he had fallen unconscious. 

Optimus kneeled beside them, looking over Starscream who was unresponsive to any attempts to talk to him or online him. He commed Ratchet with a rushed tone as Bumblebee returned from the ground bridge with stasis cuffs in hand, “Ratchet, ready the medbay for an injured! We have bots in custody and one collapsed!”

Chapter Text

Warnings flooded his HUD before Starscream even managed to online, his Energon levels were low but were slowly being replenished. There were malfunctions with previous repairs, which were considered relatively normal to Starscream, and most notably his weapons systems were offline. He ran internal scans with nothing but failure pop-ups returning which increased his slow rising panic and confusion.

Pain also resonated in his helm and he felt like he had just gone through a round of punches from Megatron. The pain didn't just stay in his helm, but cascaded to the rest of his body over time as he tried to move. 

At first, he believed he went into another reboot, and there was a bout of amnesia as he tried to comb through his logs to figure out what happened before his blackout. His optics weren’t listening at first, refusing to online even as a flood of voices shrouded his sensors and he could hear arguing. Muffled arguing.

“—you binary?! Bringing him here—in this condition— a threat..” There were words being strung out, some that he could hear, others he couldn’t and he didn’t know who they were talking about at first. It was coming from a voice he didn’t recognize.

The most discernible out of the bunch of voices was Skywarp’s which made Starscream reach out to him through the bond, confused and concerned about his whereabouts. 

Skywarp sent a comforting feeling back to him as if trying to reassure him to keep him calm, “We’re here, Star. Everything’s okay.” His voice was quiet but close to his helm which made Starscream relax a little bit.

He realized pretty quickly that he was able to move and soon enough his optics finally onlined after multiple reboots. His wrists and ankles pulled up in the attempts to move only to be constrained. Bright blue rings were cupped around his wrists and ankles to keep him against the berth. 

The room was bright white, save for a couple of areas that were painted silver or a grey color. The lights blinded his optics and he winced when he came in contact with them. Panic was rising in his system as he realized that he was essentially being held against his will on a berth and in an area he didn’t recognize. 

“Where am I?! What is this!? Release me!” He shouted as a white bot with orange stripes came into his blurry view. The old mech placed a servo in his chassis and pushed him back down, “Ep ep ep! Lay back down! You have a lot of issues with your frame that need to be addressed. You’re in the Autobot base… the cuffs were precautionary due to your past.” The mech explained. 

Starscream took a moment to adjust, partially calming down once he intook the information and leaning back. After his vision focused, he recognized the bot at the old Autobot medic, Ratchet. Ratchet didn’t seem pleased to see the seeker in his bay but he begrudgingly helped nonetheless.

“Autobot base..” Starscream muttered to himself before looking to the other side of the berth. Thundercracker was in a nearby chair resting, while Skywarp was sitting next to Starscream. He beamed at Starscream when he turned, “You with us now?” He asked and the red seeker gave him a look, concerned as to why Skywarp was not going crazy from being in a place such as this one.

“I suppose I am now, what happened?” Starscream asked, glancing between him and Thundercracker. Both of them wore stasis cuffs, the links glowing a bright blue with white cufflinks to keep them in place. A sight that made him feel uncomfortable. He felt like he got them into this mess.

Skywarp took a moment to think on his response, “You passed out, I mean fully passed out. You’ve been offline for about two cycles.” Warp stated as he watched Starscream for a minute. The red seeker took a moment, processing this information. 

“What!?” He shrieked, jerking and pulling against the binds and his vitals on the monitors jumped with his emotions. Ratchets servos came back down on his chassis, pushing him back down on the berth. Skywarp sat up a bit more while Thundercracker stirred awake from the loud noises.

“Lay back down, you’ll stress yourself out even more than you need to. You went into a shut down sequence. You’re levels were dangerously low and it sounds like you’ve been having fainting spells recently?” Ratchet asked, glancing at Skywarp and then Thundercracker as he says this. 

Starscream appeared confused until it clicked and he looked to his brothers, who both looked guilty. Starscream was immediately defensive after, “I’m fine now, get off me! Let me go! Right now!” He yelled, pulling and jerking against the binds which made Ratchet vent in exasperation before moving to grab something from a drawer. All the while the red seeker panicked and continued pulling. 

The next moment was more yelling and struggling while Ratchet sported a syringe, pricking Starscream’s upper arm and making the seeker let out of a screech before his body complied with whatever sedation Ratchet had supplied him with. 

Skywarp, who was still sitting next to Starscream as he fell back into a fitful recharge, was impartially perturbed by the scene but did not audibly put up a fight towards what was happening. Thundercracker only shook his head and vented. 

These next couple of cycles were going to be long. 

Optimus felt his recharge was going to be continuously interrupted, no matter how much he attempted to try and recharge peacefully. Maybe it was because of the years in the war that he could never have a stress-free sleep or maybe it was he was being scrutinized by allowing the seeker trine to reside in the base. 

Though, of course, he felt that the latter was the most obvious reason. Still, he couldn’t help but sit in the control room staring at the console as if there weren’t other things to do. He was neither offended or annoyed at his troops’ behavior towards the seeker trine ‘supposedly defecting’, put in the words of his more-than-active Second. 

He understood their trepidation and equally accepted the consequences that came with that behavior. For most, it was passive anger, arguing with him no matter how many reasons he pushed onto the table to defend his decision. Optimus expected it all. This was not the first time that he had made decisions that the troops felt affected their strength. 

Yet, he kept confidence in his actions, even if they backfired on him. He would remark to himself in those moments of forced clarity that at least he tried to make a change. 

When the seeker brothers came to seek his aid, one’s so serious and used to be so loyal to Megatron. It struck a chord in Optimus. How curious it felt as he watched them explain their reasoning when the feat alone to speak with him was courageous, especially knowing that Starscream would’ve vehemently denied the idea.

“Optimus.” His name drug him from the deep seated thoughts in his processor and he looked to the one calling his name. It was Arcee who seemed partially concerned as to why their leader was seated in the Control Room alone. She must’ve been calling his name for a moment as she appeared relieved when he looked her way. 

“Yes, Arcee?” He asked, analyzing her as she spent a moment gathering her thoughts, “I just… I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. That was… rude of me.” Arcee said with some inflection, she couldn’t look at him for a minute before finally meeting his gaze. 

The earlier commotion with Optimus' decision for the trine to stay was considered controversial to the Autobots and it only continued to garner frustration over the course of the breems that the trine remained cuffed. A part of it due to the team wanting the trine to be kicked out immediately. Optimus was very much against throwing them out because of their safety, especially with how worried the trine brothers were. 

Amongst the many bots who disagreed was Arcee who had voiced her disdain loudly. Although vulgar, most of Arcee's concerns were pointed and had logic behind them. Most of her statements Optimus found reasonable and didn't counteract them. Arcee was a valued member of the team and it showed in her actions and her decisions, even if she felt she was being unreasonable. Optimus learned pretty quickly after he became a Prime that decisions, such as one that could be considered unreasonable, were choices that one had to make for the safety of others. Arcee was no exception to these decisions. As such, Optimus felt great pride in Arcee for having such a strong will.

As far as her apology, his expression didn’t change much besides a slight movement from his optical ridge which served none to tell Arcee what he was thinking. Besides the twitch, she was none the wiser to believe he had no reaction to her apology. 

“It’s alright,” Was the most that Optimus said which caught Arcee off-guard, “What do you mean ‘it’s alright’? I just screamed at you for no reason!” She stated as she approached him. Optimus watched her approach but his expression didn’t change, “There was a reason for your outburst and I don’t think much less of you because of it. You have a right to be upset due to my decision.” Optimus explained as she made an effort to calm down again, trying but failing. Optimus only shifted in his seat, glancing at the console through her small fit.

Arcee didn’t expect the explanation, unsure what to make of it besides surprise. Optimus observed her expression after a klik, “I’m telling the truth,” He iterated when her face flashed in uncertainty, “And I forgive you.” He added as he turned to grab his Energon cube that had been sitting idly on a table nearby, neglected and full. Arcee just watched him.

“What will you do about them?” She asked, not acknowledging his forgiveness, which was more out of stubbornness than appreciation. Optimus didn’t chide her for it, “They will remain cuffed unless said otherwise. They have to prove their cause, if they are truly defecting, I need to oversee the differences, even more so with Starscream than the brothers.” He explained as he sipped his cube. Arcee seemed to agree with his statement after a moment.

“And if he tries to do something costly?” She prompted and he met her gaze as he sipped again, “Then it will be dealt with accordingly.” He said nonchalantly as he placed the cube back down. 

Arcee crossed her arms and shifted her weight as she watched the red and blue leader who did nothing but sit, stanced in a way that was unreadable, “We don’t have room for them.” She argued as if it would change Optimus’ mind as to why they didn’t need the seekers. 

“Thats being handled,” Optimus replied almost as quickly as she added which caught her by surprise, “And how are you doing that?” She asked, testing just how many questions she could ask. Unfortunately, Optimus refused to continue to indulge them, “That is something for me to worry about,” He stated as a certain guarded expression came over his face and Arcee knew when to drop it. 

The commotion of Starscream waking up was an event that Ratchet reported on, with various diagnostics on his condition. 

As far as Ratchet was aware, there was no obvious cause for the fainting besides low energon levels, which according to Thundercracker and Skywarp was a normal occurrence but wasn’t the likely cause of the fainting. Although a portion of it did worry Optimus, it wasn't on the list of priorities. He told Ratchet to focus on making sure that Starscream's levels were at a functional percentage. Functional being much more courteous than what the seeker siblings told Ratchet was their normal. 

Ratchet listened reluctantly, not wanting to deal with the seeker again at a later date but his medic morality pushed him to continue to help the stubborn Decepticon. He gave Starscream an additional drip and let him sleep it off for the next couple of cycles. 

The silence from the other faction was what worried Skywarp and Thundercracker. Both were muttering in the quiet of the nights when they believed Ratchet was out of audial range, although they never spoke as if they were scheming. It was more stress-related and claustrophobia. 

Thundercracker was more antsy than Skywarp, wings twitching every nano-klik and sometimes he would glance in the direction of Starscream. 

The seeker siblings had each received one ping from Megatron demanding to know their whereabouts. Just one. They only received them after two cycles had passed. Although, they weren’t entirely too aware of what Starscream was receiving. The possibility that Megatron tried to comm Starscream was a high chance and pings like theirs were probably more than many than Starscream would’ve received. But the seeker wasn’t awake to tell them.

Precautions were put in place in case he woke up again and became aggressive; Starscream was still bound to the berth, another drip hooked up to his arm and a piece of machinery that monitored vitals. The vitals readings was a little too high for Skywarps liking.

There were only a couple of times where Starscream would wake, but it would be brief and he would have no active awareness as to where he was at and would fail to respond to any sort of questions before falling back into recharge. Ratchet would start getting more concerned over the course of the couple of cycles that had passed as it continued. 

Eventually, Starscream did fully online again. It was during the night to morning hours and most weren’t actively awake. He woke up to a flood of notifications on his HUD, some from Megatron himself, others from Soundwave or Knockout. Megatron’s pings were filled with nothing but threats of execution or violence if he didn’t return which he promptly ignored. Not being in the presence of the Decepticon Warlord who making those threats made Starscream much more comfortable but still alert. 

He looked around now that his helm felt clear from pain or fog. He was still in the Autobot’s medical bay and still bound to the berth which made him frown, staring at the light blue cuffs. As he pulled at the cuffs, he didn’t seem to notice a bot approaching him from one side of the medical bay.

“I see that you’re awake now,” Ratchets voice made him jump and pull at the energized cuffs binding him to the berth. Starscream looked at the Autobot medic as if he grew a second head but he was much more passive than his last encounter with the medic. 

He didn’t respond immediately which prompted Ratchet to ask more questions, “Any pain anywhere?” He sighed as he grabbed a data pad while he approached Starscream, looking between the seeker and the dull data pad.

“No,” Starscream muttered, staring him down. The medical bay was dark with some light coming from the various medical equipment. Ratchet was more of a silhouette to him, partially illuminated by the monitors around him. The monitor that kept track of his vitals was a little more annoying now that he became aware of it of the course of the kliks they stood in silence.

“Thats good,” Ratchet responded flatly as he marked something down on the data pad, glancing at the vitals to mark them too. Starscream watched him the entire time, as if expecting the medic to strike him down, “How long have I been recharging?” He slowly asked, refusing to tear his gaze away from Ratchet who seemed quite unbothered by him staring. 

Ratchet looked at him after a couple of kliks and took a seat near him, “About four cycles,” He responded as he lifted his arm to do a surface scan. Starscream tensed when the medic moved which earned a look from Ratchet, “Just doing a surface scan to make sure everything that is visible is okay,” Ratchet stated firmly and did said scan within a couple of nano-kliks. 

Starscream continued to stare, still processing what Ratchet had told him, “I’ve been recharging for four cycles, when I first woke I was at two. I slept for two more?” He muttered to himself, trying to decipher what was going on with him. He could barely get a decent recharge in the first place, let alone multiple cycles in a row. It bewildered him to no end. 

He was starting to believe that maybe defecting was a horrible idea, he was never this sick inside the Nemesis. Injured? Yes, horribly so. But not deeply sick as he was. Even leading up to the defection he felt horrible. He would rather take another beating than fight his own frame for whatever illness he possessed. Pain was at least bearable when you knew where it was coming from.

Ratchet could see his inner turmoil, it showed on his face plate and his vitals spiked with his stress, “If you continue to do that, you’ll put yourself in a worse state.” He said with a tone of annoyance. It seemed to work decently as Starscream focused on him a bit more, “Do you have a explanation for the excessive recharging.. ?” Starscream wracked his own processor for the answer himself but lacked the proper knowledge to know it. 

His self-repair systems also did not help him, when asked for an internal diagnostic report it tells him that there is an abnormality but doesn’t elaborate on what that abnormality is! He felt like he was losing his circuits with the amount of stress he was feeling. 

“Your frame is not in its best shape, there could be multiple reasons. To low energon levels, to errors in reconstruction. Based on the amount of damage you’ve underwent over the years, basically anything could cause you to ‘unnecessarily recharge’ for long terms. It happens to the best of us,” Ratchet sighed as he replaced the drip. The removal of the needle caused Starscream to jerk, pulling at the binds again in order to try and avoid him. 

Ratchet looked at him again, “You know I’m doing this because it’s necessary. I’m not going to hurt you.” He remarked, trying to be kind to him. Which worked as well as you’d expect.

Starscream scoffed, “Says the Autobot who hates me,” He grumbled as he looked at the disgruntled medic. Ratchet rolled his optics, “Do you want to get out of this medbay as fast as possible or do you want another dent in that helm of yours?” He threatened as he grabbed a wrench nearby. Where did he get that? 

Best not to ask.

“The former..” Starscream responded, defeated. Ratchet seemed pleased with his answer and put the wrench down and went to prepare another drip. He stood and walked away from the berth to grab something from the various cabinets.

Starscream only now seemed comfortable enough to look away and overlooked his frame or at least as much as he could see from his position. He looked better, the paint on his frame seemed to be a bit more vibrant than he remembered but it didn’t bother him. There were a couple of scuffs here and there but it was better than nothing. 

Starscream noticed that his brothers were also absent from the medical bay. Panic rised in his frame and he reached out to them through the bond, not immediately feeling them. He calmed down a bit after he felt both of them return his call through the bond with their own reassurances. 

“Where did you take Thundercracker and Skywarp?” He asked with an accusatory tone as Ratchet approached him again with a drip in hand. Ratchet seemed confused at first before he realized what exactly Starscream was asking.

Unbothered by Starscream’s partial aggression, he responded, “They were put in our brig. It was a precautionary measure that would’ve been changed once you woke up. They’re fine, no bot has harmed them.” He stated as he replaced the drip, holding Starscream’s arm as he pricked the seekers mesh to supply him the drip. The movement made Starscream flinch again but he did not attack the medic, as much as he wanted to react.

“Now, lay back down. You don’t have to recharge, I’ll be here. The others should be waking up soon and you’ll see your trine mates again.” Ratchet explained as he sat back down near him, grabbing a different data pad and started to do something on it. Starscream reluctantly did as told, watching Ratchet at moments to sate his need for engagement and waited impatiently for his brothers.

Anger. 

Anger couldn’t possibly describe how Megatron was feeling. He was beyond angry and without Starscream as the forefront of such rage, many bots who were unfortunate enough to be in his path were slaughtered like cattle and thrown away like trash. 

It had been four cycles since the trine disappeared. Since his Second-In-Command disappeared. 

First, it was anger and betrayal. 

Soundwave had tracked their movements to the Harbinger prior to the Autobots attack. Not too far from the Nemesis but far enough not to be disturbed. Marks from their landings had dusted the surface of the Earths crust. Everything was mostly shifted and it was clear that the seekers had been there.

He stared at the remnants of the ship that Starscream failed to mark. A capsule of the past, one that he knew the seeker held some kind of lingering sorrow about. Upon searching, Megatron found bodies decaying inside the wrecked ship. Megatron recognized their each face aomits immediately and smiled. It was a sickly smile. 

One he returned to the clearing, he found Soundwave who stared amongst the debris behind the visor. He stared with him. The trine had been there, talking amongst themselves, about possibilities of defection?

Soundwave silently confirmed his suspicions, reading his thoughts. All of which made Megatron lash out. 

“Do you see the flames Starscream? Do you feel the destruction? This is the veil of our power. Our control.”

“Dismantle the ship, bring back anything valuable. Destroy the rest.” He ordered to the Vehicon units, staring at the wreckage with a newfound hatred. The units complied with utmost speed and the Harbinger was dismantled within breems. 

Soundwave was pronounced his new second in Starscream’s absence, a temporary change that angered Megatron. Yet, the telepath was still loyal to his decisions even through the rage which earned quiet appraisals.

“Follow me, let’s become one together. Rule with me and we will show them that justice can be shared.” 

“You’re sickly.” 

“A compliment coming from you.”

“Flattery distorts you.”

Second, it was greed and desperation. 

The second cycle he felt impatience, the pings he sent to Starscream’s frequency were received which upset him further. Why wasn’t he responding? Why wasn’t he groveling and begging to return to him? 

He wanted to see the face that Starscream made when he came crawling back, broken and battered from survival and begging for forgiveness for abandoning him. Abandoning the Decepticons.

The Nemesis was beginning to falter in his care yet remained functional. Soundwave still listened and cared for it in his mental absence. The trines disappearance was beginning to take a toll on him. He was becoming unhinged. Soundwave knew this.

“This is insane. This isn’t… this isn’t right.”

“Is it not? Prove it to me. Prove your loyalty to me. I want to see you kill him.”

Third, it was envy and possession. 

By the third and fourth cycle, Megatron was losing sleep. He became desperate to find answers for their abandonment. Soundwave was able to find out that the trine was taken by the Autobots. Starscream was the one who made the final decision. 

Yet, Starscream had dropped unconscious in front of them. Megatron believed that it was an act, it had to be. He watched the replayed feed with unbridled disbelief and scoffed when Optimus knelt beside the unconscious seeker, believing that Starscream was duping the Autobot leader. It was working, but if it were an act why hadn’t Starscream returned? 

“I can’t do this. I..I can’t.” 

“You can. I’ve seen it. Remember what you are doing this for. Don’t disappoint me.”

Every breem, It felt like his helm was splitting between two voices of the same person. One of reason and one of disillusion. It coaxed him into two different directions but one sounded more enticing than the other. The voices disagreed with each other but his mind felt clear. He knew what to do.

He couldn’t let this happen. Starscream was his, his frame, his body, his spark were his. Starscream was not allowed to just leave. Leave him. 

He would kill him. He vowed to kill him. He would need to retrieve the seeker, rid him of his trine and re-train him. Starscream was no longer a young seeker anymore, he knew that now. He need to employ different tactics. 

“Listen to me.”

“. . .”

“Look at me, Starscream.”

“. . .”

“This world doesn’t fight for you. You have to fight for it. If you overstep me again, I will not waste time killing those brothers of yours. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Chapter Text

Starscream didn't know when he had fell into recharge but he did. Albeit brief as the recharge was, his dreams held nothing but nightmarish ideals. Whisps of his past horrors flooded his sights; the fires, the explosions, the death. 

The stench of soot and energon caked his senses and he was back on Cybertron, standing at the ruins of Vos. It was shortly after his deal with Megatron. He felt like he was born again, foolish and wandering at the whims of somebot he barely knew. His body sauntered behind Megatron like a lost puppy, following his new leader blindly. Megatron's red gaze bore through his spark, "Starscream." His voice was guttural, softer than what he knew. This wasn't Megatron, was it?

“Lead with me, Starscream.” He almost whispered, his hand motioning to the destruction. No, not this again.

“See what we can do together?” Megatron asked, a crazed look in his optics as he stared at the smaller seeker. His body, his frame, it looked different.

"Starscream." His name was called again, it was that voice again but coming from Megatron himself. Then the tone shifted and Megatron began yelling his name, yelling it before his face distorted in a mess of liquid. The silhouette of what was once Megatron lunged at him and Starscream jerked awake as he felt the grasp of the Warlords servos. 

When he gained consciousness of his surroundings, Optimus stood off to the side of the medical berth he was still laying on. The binds that kept him against the berth were gone but replaced with stasis cuffs around his wrists. He was sitting up on the berth, his frame felt undeniably warm, as he was overheating. Yet, he ignored it and stared on at Optimus.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were present this time, sitting beside the berth with concerned expressions on their faces. Ratchet was more than disgruntled than the last time Starscream saw him, "I see you're awake now." Ratchet said as he approached him. 

That line sounded familiar.

Starscream hated this many optics on him, in any other circumstance he would've relished in it, but being a prisoner in a base for a completely different instance made him feel extremely defensive and anxious, "You were tossing in your sleep and kept saying Megatron's name." Optimus' voice cut through the awkward silence that ensued after Ratchet spoke. 

"I was?" Starscream asked stupidly, he didn’t recall saying Megatron’s name in the dream but he wasn’t entirely conscious either. His name made flashes of his face come into Starscream’s vision and his optics offlined as if trying to rid the image from his processor. He's not here. You're fine. 

Optimus only nodded to his question, a look of sympathy crossed his face, though it was brief. Starscream shook his head, "Don't look at me like that." He remarked when he onlined his optics. He sat up further with his rising emotions, “I’m not somebot to sympathize for! I’m the enemy don’t you know that?!” 

His tantrum had no effect on Optimus, in fact the Autobot leader seemed more aware of his words than anything. He had dealt with an assault of words worse than the ones received from Starscream. His men have broken down, tired and angry with him before. Screaming and shouting obscenities through tragic times. 

Whatever Starscream had to share did not affect Optimus truly in the slightest, which scared himself more than it scared the seeker. 

“I know you are an enemy. I accepted those terms when you sought asylum here.” Optimus stated as Starscream managed to calm his nerves even in the slightest. But the seeker was still reeling even as his trine mates tried to chastise his behavior through comms.

They don’t understand how hard it is to make Optimus Prime an enemy. 

“Then you’re idiotic for coming to terms with that. I could do anything, bind me in some fortress and I’ll find my way out. You’re stupid, Prime.” Starscream was spitting nonsense, he felt attacked but he was the most aggressive out of everyone in that room. The knowledge of that was jarring to know and yet even if he willed himself to stop, it was like a broken record on repeat. 

Optimus didn’t say anything for quite a while and Starscream stewed in his thoughts for kliks on end until the Autobot leader said something else. 

He felt horrible, much more than he would on the Nemesis. Where he could focus his rage on Megatron there, here there was no directed reason for him to hate Optimus other than the fact the Autobots were insufferable and they would never understand the ideals of the Decepticon nature. Which were reasons that didn't feel justified to Starscream no matter how much he tried to explain them to himself. 

"I believe you're expertise will do us well, but there are a lot of steps we need to take to reach a point where we can trust you, Starscream." Optimus spoke cooly, ignoring most of the spouting hatred that had poured from the seekers mouth earlier. 

Only the Prime would be able to take such malice without feeling offended in the slightest. Still, it didn’t make Starscream feel better.

Starscream seemed partially surprised by the inclination of trust for his and his brothers future recruitment. Prime felt that he truly was in the best interest of saving, though the seeker strongly disagreed. As he was considered defectors along with his brothers, his options were slim and he was forced to think about the other consequences that came with not only defying Megatron but defying Optimus. 

Megatron’s position was grandiose in the scheme of things, defecting him naturally placed a bounty on your head that most could avoid. 

While defection in the ranks of Decepticons was a death wish, defection in the ranks of Autobots seemed more as a morality crusher rather than a threatening ordeal. 

Though, Starscream felt that was his personal experience and it was more of an assumption on his part.

The Prime could do anything, his demeanor could change. Everything the Prime said or did wasn’t to be automatically trusted. 

All of which were seen only through the optics of Starscream.

Starscream’s lack of response to Optimus’ statements made the leader vent softly, “I understand that this is a surprise to you.” He started and that seemed to snap Starscream out of whatever daze he put himself in, “You don’t say?” He said sarcastically. A look crossed his face as he stared at the large bot in front of him. 

Optimus held no reaction to his blatant sarcasm and continued, “I have high hopes for you to make the right decisions. Thats why I came here to tell you that I still accept your terms but with one conditional change.” He said as he watched the seeker expectantly. 

Starscream narrowed his eyes at him, “And what is that?” He asked suspiciously. His demeanor had relaxed partially but his wings were still hiked up on alert. He had significantly calmed down since he had woken up and started the mini tirade. 

Optimus expected most of it. 

“We want you to join us.” Optimus stated softly as if the words he’s saying could bite him back. In this instance, it was possible. 

Though, his statement was a vague lie, it was clear to himself, and probably to Starscream, that no one but himself wanted the seeker to join his ranks. 

Yet, he continued, “I vaguely understand that there is some… issues.. with Megatron and while I don’t condone actions that intend to kill others as you’ve preached before. I want it to be a motivator for you to try and become stronger than what you are now.” He kept trying to choose his words carefully expecting the seeker to become upset.

Optimus would never truly understand the turmoil that Starscream was put through, and there is still a lot of secrets that are hidden beneath the surface. But, he trusted Starscream to come to terms with his actions and the trauma that was inflicted upon him. Even his tirade was a mirage of projected anger but he wouldn’t point it out, yet. 

“What would you know? You don’t know what he put me through, I want him dead. Dead!” Starscream’s voice reached a higher volume, almost screeching. It was gravelly and broken. Optimus winced with the sudden change in volume, he knew it would’ve brought out worsening feelings but it nonetheless still startled him.

“I know—“ Optimus began but Starscream interrupted him, “No, you don’t know! Dont say you do!” He was angry, but it wasn’t entirely directed towards Optimus. 

Starscream felt like screaming, crying even. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time, not since the beginning of the war. He covered his face with his servos as if blocking his sight would rid him from being in this room any longer. It didn’t help that the stasis cuffs clinked with the close proximity, reminding him that he was a prisoner. A prisoner of war and most of all, a prisoner of his own doing.

“Okay.” Optimus responded softly after a couple of minutes of silence, "We will give you time. I will be here to talk, if you come to a decision." He stated as he stood slowly. His height towered over the seeker which caused Starscream to cower slightly. 

There were moments where the leader's demeanor mimicked Megatron at times and it scared him, making him believe that the dark lord was in the room again, ready to pounce and dismantle him all over again. Optimus reacted with his cowering, a flash of concern crossed his face again before he excused himself and quickly left the medical bay as not to trigger any further outbursts.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were still in the room as Optimus left and they had witnessed the entire ordeal along with Ratchet. All unsure what to do, or what to say.

Starscream continued to cower even in the absence of Optimus, stuck in his own processor, reeling through the different choices. He didn't understand why he was being treated this way. He didn't deserve kindness. He didn't deserve to be considered. 

His feelings must've traveled through the bond, sharing his intense uncertainty and fright, as his brothers reacted.

Skywarp came to his aid with what limited mobility he had and tried to soothe the seeker by stroking his wings gently. It worked decently well, calming Starscream down enough for Ratchet to approach him.

"You have time to decide. For now, I need to speak with you, alone." He said sternly to Starscream before he looked at Skywarp and Thundercracker, "I'll have somebot come collect you two, have either of you eaten?" Ratchet asked as he vented. They both shook their helms in response, and Ratchet vented again. 

He was exasperated and tired but he put a digit to his comm and asked for somebot to come collect the seekers who partially protested to leaving Starscream.

Ratchet watched them leave with Red Alert as he chided the two for their behavior, "He'll be fine, we'll notify you both of his status if anything changes." Red Alert stated as he walked them out to go get their Energon cubes for the morning.

Ratchet turned back to Starscream, “It’s about your frame.” He started abruptly, getting straight to the point and not wanting to waste any time. “You have a lot of external damage that is clearly from previous events but there is also some internal damage that I’ve gathered from your time unconscious.” The implications of it made Starscream snarl slightly, he felt like his privacy had been invaded, even if it was the medics job to determine a cause for his problems. 

“You did an extensive scan without my permission?” Starscream asked angrily, looking at Ratchet as if he had just kicked a puppy. 

Ratchet said nothing for several moments, choosing his words before he spoke, “It was necessary, you were basically in an emergency shut down for two cycles Starscream. I cared for you on a surface level the first day you put into my care but your condition only worsened and I didn’t know why.” Ratchet replied steadily and with a stern tone. 

His expression didn’t change from the disgruntled look that he had on his face, “I did what I felt necessary. Most of the information that I gathered has been withheld from everyone, even Optimus.” The statement from him made Starscream scoff. 

“I doubt that in its entirety.” He stated, giving Ratchet a look. He assumed Ratchet was lying which earned him nothing but a deadpan look as a result from the medic. 

Ratchet shook his head, “I’m telling the truth. Do I have to drill it into your processor for you to understand that not everyone is out to get you?” He asked, irritated but not yelling at him. 

Starscream took that question with a glare, “How am I supposed to trust you when you do something like that? I don’t want you to know anything about me. Medical or otherwise.” He countered with a growl. Ratchet only vented with a defeated attitude, arguing with Starscream could only be handled by a specific bot and Ratchet wasn’t one of them. 

He’s dealt with rowdy and stubborn patients before but Starscream was a different breed of bot he had no full experience treating, much less a seeker of his caliber. 

“This steer-off doesn’t matter, what matters is what’s wrong with you. I’m not asking you to give me details I just want to confirm some things, got it?” Ratchet asked as he approached the seekers side and grabbed a data pad and pulled another piece of machinery closer to the berth. 

Starscream gave him a strange look, one of mild confusion but still holding a definitive grudge, “Depends on what it is.” Ratchet only rolled his optics and shifted the screen to face Starscream. 

“Do you see these diagnostics?” He asked plainly as if Starscream’s sight was part of the list of issues that needed to be fixed. Starscream peered at the monitor with vexation, concerned he might see something on the list he didn’t want the medic to see.

The monitor displayed a list of general errors, incapabilities from prior reconfigurations and repairs, and a general consensus on his well-being. His energon levels were higher than what he normally consumed which he considered was a plus. Amongst the drifting code was the abnormal reading, highlighted in red text. 

‘ABNORMALITY 001; UNSTABLE SPARK FLUCTUATIONS.’

And it continued. 

‘ABNORMALITY 002; STRUCTUAL INTEGRITY OF SPARK CHAMBER LIMITED.’
 
‘ABNORMALITY 003; GESTATIONAL TANK OVERFLOW MALFUNCTION’

Starscream felt sick again. In fact he threw up, spitting up what energon he had held down for that morning. It covered his servos and legs which served no assistance for his swimming processor.

Just look away. You’re fine. Look away.

Ratchet vented and grabbed some wash cloths to clean the mess. He came back over to the seeker and went to help him, spraying a bottle form solvent. But the seeker pushed him away and Ratchet compromised by giving Starscream the cloth to wipe himself so he didn’t put up a fit. Starscream followed through quickly, wiping away what filth remained from his own sickness. 

“I assume you know what those mean.” Ratchet said after a minute of letting Starscream calm down again. Starscream only nodded slightly, “I know of the reasons for two. There’s only one I couldn’t tell you what’s wrong, mainly because I don’t know.” Starscream explained quietly but didn’t clarify anything. 

The low volume didn’t fit him, he was usually loud, boisterous and goading but this side of him was hard to look at. 

Nonetheless, Ratchet nodded with his response and moved the screen away and got up to grab some things from the cabinet nearby. 

“I can give you things to subside whatever pain you might be experiencing. Until you allow me to diagnose this issue, there isn’t much I can do.” Ratchet explained as he returned with a pouch of medical grade energon and a small dosage of pain blockers. 

Starscream watched him for a moment before taking the items from him and subspacing them for later. 

Red Alert returned shortly after their conversation ended to collect Starscream. While Starscream was more than subdued when he left, the seeker was caught in his thoughts again. This time, it was about Optimus and what he had said earlier. 

As much as he didn’t want to talk to the Prime, he had to. For the sake of his life, and for the sake of his trine mates safety.

Starscream felt better when the sun hit the horizon and the sky had cascaded to the pink and blue hues. It was a new feeling considering what he had been through the last couple of cycles. A part of him was thankful for the peace. He didn’t feel quite as sick as he did before and he seemed to have a bit more energy.

They were put in the brig following what Starscream’s decision would be. Until then they were cuffed and isolated from the rest of the crew. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp rarely fully recharged now that the trine leader was in sight, it felt like he was being babysat for an unorthodox amount of time and Starscream couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Still, he appreciated being around his brothers. He felt more at ease with them around.

Skywarp crawled towards the red seeker, being careful not to strike his wings on anything. Warp felt like he had seen many sides of Starscream before, but what they witnessed in the medbay was a combined personality that they had never witnessed. 

It was as if the seeker went through a whiplash of stages of intense grief and rage. Maybe that was its best description.

A waterfall of indiscernible emotions in a messed up concoction. It would make any mech go mad.

Starscream appeared now like an oppressed sparkling. He was curled up near the berth, sitting on the floor with his legs hugged close to his frame. When Skywarp approached, Starscream looked at his brother with a look that made Warps spark wrench. 

“What is it?” Starscream asked as Warp looked at him with a newfound empathy. 

“Let me preen you. You’ll feel better. We all will.” Skywarp offered, shifting to sit on his knees. Starscream stared on at him uncertain. Thundercracker watched them for a moment before adding on, “It’s the least we could do, we convinced you to do this.” He said.

TC vented softly when Starscream’s gaze reached the ground but the seeker then shifted away from the berth and stretched his wings downwards, “Fine. But only for a little while.” Starscream said softly. 

Skywarp beamed and positioned himself behind the stubborn seeker and began to work. 

He gently preened him, carefully trailing the seams and removing any dirt or debris that managed to slip behind the plating. Starscream leaned his head forward on his knees and let Skywarp do as he pleased, his wings relaxing after a couple of kliks. 

Thundercracker only smiled at the two. It was the best they could do as a distraction until something changed. 

Chapter Text

"Primus Star, whats going on with you?" Skywarp muttered as the red seeker keeled over, coughing up what was left of their lunch that cycle. The fainting at least had ceased temporarily now that he’s seen Ratchet but another issue came after the first. 

Starscream blamed it on not being used to having a full tank which Skywarp and Thundercracker seemed to agree with. Since being in the Autobots base they’ve been given more than their usual share of Energon and while it was appreciated, the sudden change made them mostly ill to their tanks. More so Starscream than the other two. 

When it came time to have a conversation with Optimus about the final decision, Starscream was relatively cordial with the Autobot leader even through his grouchy illness. It surprised both Skywarp and Thundercracker but it made them hopeful that Starscream was contemplating never returning to the Decepticons. As much as it was against their nature, Megatron was still very much a threat to all of them, much more to Starscream and the likelihood of Starscream deciding to change his mind was very high.

No matter how much they tried to make it feel normal, the atmosphere was completely different with the Autobots. They knew that even if Optimus accepted them into their ranks, scrutiny was bound to occur, along with fights. Much of which was explained by Optimus himself.

They were held in a briefing room, separated from the rest of the crew with only a couple of Autobots to accompany Optimus, one of which being Prowl, another being Arcee and the last being Jazz. Starscream was seated on the opposite side of a large table with Thundercracker and Skywarp on either side of him. The display felt as if he was back on Cybertron, arguing with the senators once again. A ugly and foggy memory that drifted through his processor.

This time instead of an argument over resources, it was an argument for him and his brother’s fate. Though, Starscream already had his decision lined up, he would let Optimus speak his truth. 

Optimus cleared his throat and shifted forward in his seat, “I understand that this decision was very forthcoming and I’m glad you took time to think through your choice.” He spoke kindly to Starscream and while the red seeker held no real expression to the start of this conversation, he was more confident than he had been since he was first dragged in.

“I’ve made my decision.” Starscream immediately added after Optimus had said his first sentence which took the leader by surprise. Clearly not expecting the seeker to decide so soon but also joyous that Starscream had the probity to announce his peace. 

“Is that so? I’m sure you’ve come to understand the consequences on either side that comes with making this decision?” Prowl piped up, his discernment and calculated approach made Starscream sneer. The way Prowl treated himself made him think of Shockwave on the offhand, but he constrained his wings in an inwards position and flattened his expression. 

“Yes, I am very much aware of the consequences that come with either.” Starscream strained himself from replying sardonically, as much as he wanted to piss off the strategist.

Optimus raised his hand to Prowl, who had seemed to catch on to the contempt of Starscream’s responses. The leaders interference seemed to calm his approach as the strategist was becoming increasingly antagonistic towards the seeker. Not that Starscream seemed to care. 

“Understand this, your acceptance into our ranks will not grant you immediate access to our information, you will all remain on probationary status until proper training and evaluation has been completed. Which includes the observation of redeeming actions. You are here because we allow you to be, any action that acts against Autobot code will be treated with accordingly and could set you back to square one depending on the severity of the violation.” Optimus explained. His voice held no change in inflection but he meant every word and Starscream listened to all of it without a word given. 

The leader had more to add, “You will all be supervised by a chosen Autobot, they will supervise you on any given basis and report to me with any information or changes that you've underwent or experienced." Optimus stated as Starscream's expression changed a bit. Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed to be against the idea of having a babysitter while Starscream felt the same sentiment. Prowl and Jazz noted their uncomfortable body language, Optimus took it into consideration.

"Knowing these terms, do you still wish to be apart of the Autobots?" Optimus asked, leaning forward on his elbows. It basically felt like Optimus was staring through Starscream's spark but he had mulled on this decision for many breems and he felt that it was right, no matter how much his programming said otherwise, "Yes, I do accept those terms." Starscream stated without missing a beat. Optimus seemed pleased with that answer and went to stand. Starscream watched him and his crew carefully as a result of the movement.

"Understood, then from today on you and your brothers will be considered neutral partisans until a considerable change warrants a promotion.” Optimus stated as he approached Starscream while Prowl, Jazz and Arcee stood, prepared, in case Starscream did anything. Optimus held out his servo to give him a handshake,  Starscream who didn’t immediately return the handshake seemed to stare at Optimus expectantly for a moment before outstretching his servo and taking Optimus’. The agreement had been finalized. 

“Neutral partisans…” Skywarp murmured thoughtfully as they sat outside. The wind on their wings gave them some peace of mind. He stretched his servos out to feel the wistful air and vented softly when it flew by, kissing his digits with serenity. He liked being outside just like the rest of his trine, flying was always the best feeling.

Thundercracker leant forward on his legs, his optics offline and letting the feeling of the cold air embrace him. He felt bothered by the entire ordeal much more now with Starscream finally agreeing to stay with the Autobots. 

It was unusual for him to be so upfront about his decision, even as he was against it vehemently for the entire thing. He didn’t put up a fight even when Optimus laid out the terms that were going to be in place when he did accept. He knew Starscream didn’t like to be limited, yet here they were. 

While he was happy to be outside, Starscream seemed more rigid and uncomfortable. He attempted to enjoy the morning air but the bot that was babysitting them was laser focused on the red seeker the entire time they were outside. The gaze could be felt miles away and Starscream felt sick to his spark, more so than usual. The tension was palpable and Starscream was avid on ignoring any possibilities of conversation. 

Skywarp seemed to feel the tension, though mostly because he wasn’t paying too much attention. He glanced back at the Autobot that was standing behind them, “Hey Skyfire, I had a question.” He asked casually which caused Starscream to hike his wings in alert. When he meant any possibilities, it included his trine. 

He made his irritation clear, chastising Warp through comms for even starting conversation with the bot that he attempted to kill in his early career with the Decepticons. 

Skyfire, who had been overseeing the seekers, looked at Skywarp, completely unaware of the red seekers annoyance at the situation. “Yes?” He responded with a curious glance. Skywarp shot him a sympathetic look, “I’m not exactly the smartest of the bunch, can you explain to me the implications of a ‘neutral partisan’?” He asked, leaning back on his servos while his wings twitched in curiosity. Blissfully aware that he was starting a fire as he glanced at Starscream, who was glaring a hole through his helm.

Skyfire seemed to ponder his question for a good while before responding, “A neutral partisan implies that you are of neutral standing, you have no real decision on sides. In this case the factions involved in the war. Unless you outwardly display signs of being one or the other, you can be considered inactive in the war and are willing to let the sides fight it out.” He explained. His mellow voice could explain anything and someone would either listen intently or want to block it out. In Starscream’s case, he wanted to rip out his audials, so much so he contemplated doing it now.

“And does that mean we have say in any sort of plans?” Skywarp followed up, ignoring the red seekers irritated pings. Skyfire seemed interested in the conversation a bit more now that Skywarp was prompting questions, “It depends on if Optimus requires your input.” He considered, “I’m not sure, Optimus is dependent on circumstances.” Skyfire seemed to think about his response a bit further. 

“Alright, and just to clarify, any sort of situation involving aggression or nonsensical haste decisions could cost us a write-up?” Skywarp asked, and Skyfire seemed to stare at him for a moment before responding, “Yes.”

Skywarp nodded with a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat, “Thanks, Skyfire. I think I understand it a bit better, do you understand it Starscream?.” He asked mockingly as his wings flicked due to his anxiousness, Starscream was going to murder him and the red seeker was giving him the same look that he normally did when Warp had said or did something that affected Starscream’s pride or reputation.

Skyfire seemed to look curiously between Starscream, who refused to look at the shuttle and was only focused on Skywarp, and Skywarp, who was staring straight back at Starscream with an unapologetic look. He knew what he was doing.

Thundercracker looked between the two, his tanks flipping from the aggressive emotions flitting off of Starscream’s EM field. He looked mostly at Skywarp, giving him a look as if to ask ‘why?’ but Warp only grinned as a response which didn’t make the churning in TC’s tanks any better. 

Before TC could do anything to rectify the situation—as he mostly did when issues like this arised when Skywarp and Starscream had their own arguments—the red seeker lunged at Warp, tackling him to the ground. His claws were extended, the only weapon available to him, and he swiped at the purple seekers face and neck. Paint chipped with the scratches, all the while Skywarp maniacally laughed the entire way, fighting off Starscream with similar ease. 

The fight was broken up when Skyfire yanked at Starscream’s wings, eliciting a yelp from the red seeker. “Enough! Both of you!” Skyfire yelled, pulling Starscream off of Warp, who seemed marginally more entertained now that he had successfully pissed off their trine leader.

Starscream snarled visibly, dermas sharp and in view, his wings flicked and hit Skyfires hand as Starscream stood up to regain his composure. His wings hiked and spread out in an aggressive stance, never seeming to burn the flame that Skywarp had started. Skyfire backed off and let him go even as the red seeker glared at him. 

Though the tussle was brief, Starscream’s unusual silence during the brief fight is what really made TC and Warp nervous. Warp must’ve made him really mad. Normally he would vocally speak his outrage, but he didn’t, which kinda scared Warp and TC. 

Skyfire vented after they both had seemingly calmed down and weren’t at considerate risk of attacking each other, “Lets head back inside before another incident occurs, please.” He motioned to the entrance of the base. Starscream was the first to walk back, arms crossed, while the other two seekers quickly followed behind. 

Skyfire was the last to enter and was met with Optimus’ gaze as he made it inside. “Optimus.” He greeted, surprised, “Good Morning. I didn’t believe you would be up so soon.” He stated nervously, his optics looking at the time on his chronometer. He intended for the greeting to be said optimistically, it still came across quite anxiously. Though, Optimus didn’t have quite the reaction that Skyfire believed he would’ve had. 

“You took them outside?” He asked, his optics flicking towards the three seekers. Starscream was more separated from the two, seemingly keeping his distance from them as a way to cool himself off. His wings were still hiked and tense.

Though there was no signs of anger or resentment towards Skyfire, it still didn’t make him less nervous as Optimus was generally quite vigilant when it came to the operations of the Autobot base, but Optimus seemed to have the nervousness effect on everyone.

Skyfire nodded with his question, “Yes, seekers often get claustrophobic being grounded and confined, even in a open room. It’s to prevent them from being unnecessarily violent.” He said as he glanced at Starscream and Warp. A direct statement to the two. 

Starscream just rolled his optics and Skywarp smiled sheepishly, wings low and twitching. Warp was getting more concerned by the minute and if he stood next to the erratic seeker for a moment longer he felt like I was going to be attacked again. Skyfires presence did significantly decrease the chances but it was never zero.

Optimus hummed in thought before he responded, “I see. Well, in any case, please notify me when you take them anywhere outside of the base. It would be appreciated.” He stated calmly and Skyfire nodded again, “I understand, sir. Thank you.” He said with a smile and then looked towards the seekers. 

“Let’s get moving back to the room. You’ll all be getting your cubes soon, I will come and retrieve you when the time arrives.” Skyfire explained as he walked them back to their newfound quarters. Since the seekers slept together, Starscream had opted just for one room when negotiations came tied with Optimus. The base was still in its finalizations and the request met no resistance as most of the internal layout hadn’t been explored past a certain threshold. 

Starscream began regretting his decisions when he found himself stuck in the room with the mech that irritated his core. In any other instance, he wouldn’t have indulged Skywarps antics, much less attack him. The anger he felt was much too intense, much more than he had ever felt before and he didn’t know where it came from. It scared him. He was becoming no better than Megatron. And that was something he didn’t want to become.

What was happening to him?

Skywarp sat on the berth with TC while Starscream paced absentmindedly, seemingly in a partial trance, optics scattered and jumping between multiple points of interest even though the only interesting thing was the walls. 

“Star—“ Thundercracker started but the red seekers wings hiked up again from their tense state, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear anything. From either of you. Let me sit in peace.” Starscream snapped back at them, anger still bubbling in his processor. It traveled through his frame like a current and he opted to sit near the corner with optics downcast until his thoughts were back together. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other, unsure what to do while their trine leader angrily sulked in the corner. 

The door opening suddenly startled the two seekers seated on the berth. In the hall was Ratchet, annoyed again as usual. He was most likely called in by Skyfire to overlook any sort of injuries that Skywarp procured from Starscream. But a quick overview of Warps frame showed that most of the wounds were mostly cosmetic rather than truly damaging. 

“You’re fine. A buffer could remove those scratches easily. Anything else?” Ratchet asked with a dull look as he put his scanner away. Skywarp didn’t know what to ask when so many thoughts popped up in his processor that he responded awkwardly with a; “Uh no. I guess.”

As if with almost convenient, unfortunate, timing, Starscream doubled over in his seat. Energon spilled onto the floor in a steady flow until the seeker was sputtering and coughing. His optics flickered in brightness, fighting whatever wave of issues came flooding through his HUD. 

TC had gotten up, rushing over to Starscream’s aid. Ratchet followed him suit with a little less pep in his step, knowing that this problem would be continual. Skywarp remained where he was, concerned for his well-being but also concerned for his own safety considering Starscream’s volatility.

“Leave me alone..” Starscream mumbled out when TC tried to coax him into talking about what was going on. Ratchet had less luck when the seeker just gave him an exhausted look when he went to open his intake. 

“Starscream, understand that refusing for me to help you, is going against medical advice. If your frame reaches critical levels, I will have to undergo another evaluation on you if you become unfit to do anything. Let alone walk.” Ratchet urged as he kneeled near Starscream’s side, a look of faux concern. Most actions done by the medic were perfunctory and Starscream held no real value towards him but he also hated undergoing interpersonal scans when he isn’t actively aware of them. 

He didn’t want to look at the results again, even thinking about it brought the nausea back and he leaned over preparing to vomit yet again. When nothing came, he sat slumped in the position in case the sudden urge to throw up came around again. 

“I know, what the implications are. Just leave me alone.” Starscream hissed out, directed towards the medic but also his trinemate. Thundercracker reluctantly backed off of him and sat back down near Skywarp. Ratchet vented with his stubbornness and reminded him that this would come back to bite him. He knew that. It was constantly imminent.

“Again.” Starscream griped out, when Warps punches didn’t meet his expectations. The purple seeker openly groaned, his wings mimicking his exasperation, but he restarted the sequence. The training dummy being on the receiving end of the onslaught of his punches and kicks. 

Thundercracker watched idly, keeping his distance from the, deemed sick, trine leader. It seemed like every cycle, Starscream was getting worse, whatever was happening to him internally was draining him. In more ways than one. 

The color on his frame began to dull, sucking the vibrancy from his once confident frame. He was partially sluggish but was still quite active, even with the cuffs constantly reminding him of the hindrances and limitations. His expression was almost always tired, if not dazed. 

Thundercracker had caught, on more than one occasion, where the trine leader has stood still, staring forward, optics unfocused, and barely comprehensive to his environment. It was concerning, they had never seen him like this and with his choice of refusal to see Ratchet, TC felt there was only so much they could do. 

Megatron had made an attempt to contact the base more than a couple of breems ago. When Optimus requested Starscream’s presence to speak on the incident, he was quite surprised to see the seekers state. 

“Starscream. Have you seen Ratchet?” He asked, seeming genuinely concerned for his health. Starscream visibly snarled at the mention of Ratchet, “I’m not letting that medic touch me.” He growled, not bothering to shift his expression when Ratchet had entered the control room, seemingly with a box of items he had located in the storage room. How convenient.

When Optimus looked towards him, Ratchet looked between the two and vented, “He refuses to do another evaluation, despite the blatant decline.” He remarked, the statement jabbing at Starscream who crossed his arms. Optimus’ expression hardened once hearing this and he returned his gaze back to Starscream, “I order you to be properly cared for by Ratchet.” He said seriously and Starscream glared at him in return.

“You can’t be serious? Ordering me around just because you think you can—“ Starscream began to argue, his wings hiking with his aggression but Optimus wasn’t standing down, “It’s an order, not a suggestion. Unless you wish to have more limitations.” Optimus threatened, referencing to his wings, which made Starscream tense. He didn’t want to be physically grounded, more so than he already was, and it felt nice to be able to stretch his wings.

“You don’t win this one just because you’re the Autobot leader.” Starscream spit out as he slowly made his way to the medical bay. His sluggish walk only cementing his fate.

Optimus vented, now staring at the frequency request from Megatron with a newfound irritation. Ratchet watched him for a moment before speaking, “Thank you. I know that was hard for you.” He said assuringly. Optimus only glanced at him, disappointed in himself, “I shouldn’t have to threaten him to comply with medical treatment.” He responded sullenly, clearly upset that Starscream isn’t taking care of himself properly. 

“There is a lot more going on that I don’t think we understand, while I don’t like him and I really don’t fragging appreciate his resistance. There is only so much you can do to help him.” Ratchet explained as he retrieved an item from one of the many boxes littering the floor of the control room.

Optimus seemed to agree with his statement and didn’t say much else, wallowing in the guilt of his actions. Ratchet left him to sit and went to the medical bay shortly after. 

He didn’t exactly expect to see Starscream sitting on the berth when he walked in but the seeker was there, helm buried in his servos, optics dimming every so often. 

“I don’t want to be here.” He mumbled when he heard the medic walk by him. Ratchet scoffed slightly with his remark, “You’re a pain in the aft. Do you think I want to experience more issues with you?” He asked but not really wanting an answer, it was more of a statement. Starscream lifted his helm and gave him a look, unappreciative of the medics honesty, even if he felt grateful for Ratchets lack of a filter on certain aspects. 

“Tell me your symptoms,” Ratchet vented as he wheeled over a monitor to hook up to Starscream. The seeker was too apprehensive to say anything and Ratchet took a moment just to let him sit in silence while he hooked up the vitals monitor. 

When it was hooked up, it calibrated to Starscream’s frame. As it finalized and began giving but readings is when Ratchet finally decided to say something, “I’m not going to pry into more personal details, but you also have to understand that you’re not alone in this fight. Whatever may be going on, it can be overcome, it just takes time.” There were moments where Ratchet could be empathic when he felt in the mood for it, truly he was just a softy at spark, even if his patients dragged his temper to its limits. 

Starscream appeared to have taken in his words though he was still defensive, “Extreme nausea, dizziness.. sometimes my joints lock up on me..” He muttered away his symptoms. Although there seemed to more than just the three, Ratchet decided to work with what he gave him. 

He made quick work, doing a surface scan and grabbing a drip to start restoring his energon levels which had reached low levels again. Ratchet only vented when he saw the results of the scan, “Starscream. Is there a reason why you’ve been adamant against seeking medical care? This isn’t healthy for you,” Ratchet tried to understand, even though any excuse that Starscream came up with now wouldn’t sound reasonable in any aspect. 

Starscream watched the medic with tired optics, “I thought I would be fine. I’ve dealt with worse, experienced worse. I thought it would’ve gone away by now.” He admitted, too exhausted to really put up a fight. 

“It’s not going away. Have you seen yourself? Have you looked in a mirror?” Ratchets questions were invasive but in no way malicious but the thought to look at himself in the mirror after that. It felt repulsive. No matter how clean how he felt, looked, appeared. It wasn’t enough. There was marks, naked to the visible eye. They couldn’t see them but he could. 

He felt the servos, the pain, the—

“Starscream!” Ratchet pulled him out of his spiral, shaking him. He could hear the monitor blaring with his increased spark rate. He was laying down now. When did he lay down?

Ratchets servos pressed against his shoulder plating, pressing him gently into the berth, trying to ground him to reality but it was as if Starscream was floating. Unfocused and unable to listen. His spark rate reached critical levels and the sound from the monitor became muffled.

His optics failed to function properly, warnings popping up on his HUD and he was plunged into darkness. Silence followed shortly after.
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The sound of music came into the wake of his senses, soft, methodical instruments that played in a warbled tone. As if played on an old mechanical box. 

It was his favorite song. The sweet melody that played lured him to the source, a femmes mellow voice buzzed from the machine. Lyrics of Vosian spilled from the record and Starscream found himself in his room before the destruction of Vos. 

The room was filled with trinkets of all kinds, the berth messy and littered with datapads. 

Looking down at himself, his frame was pristine, untouched by the war. When he would look for a mirror every one of them was foggy and shattered, shielding him from seeing himself. 

It almost seemed like a warning.

When his gaze returned to his room, the music was still floating around the room with a bubbly tone. There, sitting beside the windowsill was a mech, shrouded from the darkness of the night light outside. It illuminated barely anything past the window, and the lights inside the room did nothing to show him much more. 

It was unnatural but he did not approach. He didn’t know why he was here, let alone know why he was put in some sort of twisted dream. 

“Who are you?” Starscream’s voice was smooth, less raspy and resonant. It surprised him, his servo reaching up and touching his own neck cabling. He had long forgotten what it sounded like before the fight and he longed for his vocalizer to sound like that again. 

The mech seemed to look at the seeker, although his face was hidden. His frame gave away to the fact that he was a larger frame but it served no benefit to the seeker as to who he was. All of which made Starscream less interested in approaching the mystery mech. 

“Oh, Starscream. You shouldn’t be here.” The voice that emitted from the mech was a mixture of bots he’s heard before. If he focused, he could hear Megatron.. or Optimus.. or Skyfire… but every voice in one sentence felt like chaos mixed together, creating a new sound. 

The statement from the mech wasn’t malicious, it was somber, as if he was sad that the seeker had somehow stumbled in here for another reason. 

“What do you mean?” Starscream asked, still keeping his distance from the shaded mech. Its head cocked to the side, observing the seekers expressions and behavior. 

The music continued to cascade the room with its melody and rhythm, every lyric gave Starscream nostalgia to his younger years but he remained focused on the bot in front of him.

“There is not much time. I suppose if this keeps happening, we will keep seeing each other.” Every word was an enigma to its true meaning. The mech was speaking in riddles and it didn’t make sense.

Starscream was beginning to become agitated, “What? What are you talking about? I don’t understand!” He yelled, taking a step forward but the mech was unfazed. 

“You will soon enough.” He responded, his digits tapping on the arm of the chair as he watched Starscream become increasingly more agitated. 

A burning sensation made him keel forward, clutching his spark chamber, he yelled out and then glared at the mech as if he was the cause of this hardship, “It seems our time is out. We might see each other again, if you are… unlucky.” More riddles. Starscream felt like his helm was swimming.

“Oh… and congratulations Starscream.” Was the last thing he heard the bot say before he was plunged back into darkness. 
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“Oh, thank Primus!” Ratchets voice was the first to greet him when Starscream was back online again, this time Thundercracker and Skywarp were next to him again. Skywarp was sobbing almost hysterically, coolant falling in globs down the purple seekers face plate. Thundercracker was none the better of the two, he had been crying at some point, streaks of coolant that was dried stained his face plate. Although he was much more calm, TC’s servo was in his, absentmindedly squeezing. 

Starscream became acutely aware that his own frame was basically immobile and straining with his requests to move. It felt raw, energy that crackled across his feed as if he had been struck with a null ray.

Ratchet eyed the vitals monitor, waiting for his spark rate to return to normal, “I had to go to drastic measures, your frame is in a temporary lockdown as I had to restart your systems manually.” His explanation just basically told Starscream that he had to use some sort of defibrillator to bring him back to working order. 

His vocalizer failed to operate when he went to open his intake so he opted at an attempt to squeeze TC’s hand back as a way to comfort his perturbed trine mates. Unsure of what exactly happened, the stiffness and aftershock a reminder that something had occurred. His processor drew blank when he tried to think on any sort of solutions as to what happened, and his spark ached much more harshly. 

“Congratulations”? What did he mean by that?

Starscream's processor was swimming with confusion and throbbing pain. All he could do was wait until he was back in functional order, again.

“He’s a risk, much more so to himself than others. He let himself crash, Optimus. What more do you want me to do for a mech whose inexplicably attempting to offline himself?” Ratchet was angry, undeniably so. He had spent the last couple of breems making sure Starscream booted back online properly and had functional circuitry. It felt like kliks when it was just nano-kliks of time when the seeker just collapsed in front of him.

He felt like he was going mad. All of these cycles of behavior seemed like a strange nightmare that he couldn’t escape.

Starscream and his trine had only been with them for an entire Earth week and yet Starscream made everything feel on edge, more so with his unusual medical problems than anything. The strangest aspect being that he had ran the scans necessary and Ratchet felt dumbfounded to see that he had no inkling as to what he could do to fix the underlying problems besides giving basic medicine, which didn’t seem to help. 

Starscream was unnaturally resistant to pain blockers, as the seeker had returned them to Ratchet quite quickly after receiving them. When it came to any questions about spark integrity he would normally avoid to answer and call Ratchet an expletive for even asking in the first place. 

Whatever issue that was happening with Starscream had been narrowed down to a spark issue considering that most of the energy that had been sucked from his frame was being mostly drawn via the spark but due to his patient morality, Starscream vehemently denied being thoroughly scanned and Ratchet was stupidly abiding by it.

Optimus seemed to take all this information in seriously, both concerned for the safety of Starscream, and the sanity for Ratchet.

Ratchet continued to rant, “This is becoming a sick joke. If he continues to back pedal and refuse my service he will die.” He yelled, fists clenching and holding back all impulses to throw or kick something. As this conversation wasn’t exactly private, Arcee added onto the conversation, “Then let him. If he wants to die and continuously cause problems then what’s the point of wasting resources on him?” Arcee’s negative proclamation made Optimus’ spark churn heavily in disagreement and as such he made a grunt in response. His lips crinkled into a frown and his gaze turned to Arcee. 

“While I understand he is quite difficult to deal with, I don’t agree with that assessment. Starscream may have underlying issues that we won’t understand but allowing a mech—that has potential—destroy himself, willingly, is against our morals. You should know better than to suggest it.” Optimus argued, his gaze staring a hole straight through Arcee. She reacted with a stiff sigh, not appreciating the directed response. 

When he felt Arcee understood the severity of his words, he returned his gaze back to Ratchet who sighed and leaned against his own servo. 

“Ratchet, take my word for it at face value, do what’s necessary to get Starscream back in working order. Even if it goes against medical morality. We can’t allow a mech to offline himself in our care, no matter his history.” Optimus ordered, watching the medic with a certain confidence though his gaze also showed hidden sympathy. 

Ratchet only sighed in response, “I’ll do what I can. Don’t expect to see instant results.” He responded with a grunt before standing up properly, walking back to the medical bay and Optimus gave him a small smile as Ratchet walked back, “I don’t expect any less from you, Old Friend.”

Ratchet rolled his optics and entered the medical bay on Optimus’ orders. 

“Lord Megatron. The plan is in motion.” The drone of a vehicons voice was irritable and disturbed Megatron’s helmache that had become much more pronounced the more he sat there in his throne. 

“Wonderful.” He responded gruffly as he rose to stand. His joints coiled with his weight, reminding him of his age. Soundwave shuffled nearby, digits pressing against the console behind him and the Nemesis moved. 

Megatron glanced towards his new second, “Are we set to course towards the coordinates?” He asked the silent mech, who simply nodded his helm in response. Megatron smiled as he stared at the screen. 

“Soon. Everything will change.” He remarked with a grim laugh. Soundwave merely glanced at him before focusing on the controls. 

Knockout had made his entrance onto the deck with Breakdown, watching Megatron with a wary glance. Since Starscream and his trine’s defection, much of the duties that Starscream once held were being neglected with mild observation from Soundwave who was already being swamped with tasks. 

“Lord Megatron.” Knockout started, nervous to even bring up any sort of conversation with the leader. Megatron was flipping between a decent mood to a sudden twist of anger, “Yes Knockout?” The tyrants response hinted at the sudden good mood that he was in. Clearly happy of the progress that they were making so far. 

Blatantly ignoring the recent events. 

“I looked into the matter you requested. Although ignoring blatant patient confidentiality, your suspicions were correct.” Knockout grit his dentae with his response, quelling whatever anger he had. 

Breakdowns EM field touched Knockouts, calming him almost immediately and he maintained a level helm. Though, he wanted to do anything but remain calm.

“I know. But we can’t act out.” Breakdowns ping shifted Knockouts focus as if reading his mind and he forced himself to focus of them rather than what those implications could mean.

Starscream was his friend, albeit a very stubborn and shut off friend. He was his friend nonetheless and the disregard that Megatron showed to him by asking Knockout to look into… this invasive request. Finding out the truth was what hurt worse. He couldn’t imagine the type of pain that Starscream was going through

Megatron seemed to eerily beam at the news Knockout gave him, receiving good news after another. The reaction made Knockout sneer but he was quick to hide it from the volatile leader. 

“Soundwave. Continue as intended. I will attempt to contact the Autobots once more. If they refuse to answer, I will give you a different task to take on.” He remarked with unwavering confidence. Soundwave simply nodded with his order which made Knockout almost gawk with disbelief, though he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“Knockout,” His name made the red medic jump slightly, “Yes sir?” He asked as Megatron approached him. The stance of the leader made Knockout stand a bit closer to Breakdown. Megatron towered over the both of them, much less Breakdown than Knockout. Breakdown was laser focused on Megatron, still making attempts at calming Knockout while he worried about Megatron.

“I want you to compile the effects of Dark Energon into a list, I need to know everything.” Megatron ordered. It made Knockout express avid confusion, and he gave him a look of caution, “Dark Energon? What could you possibly be thinking now?” Knockouts question was impulsive at best, one that he regretted almost instantly. The look that came across Megatron’s face made Knockout inadvertently turn in on himself. 

“I hope you aren’t questioning my authority on this matter.” The response was a threat, a threat to his life. One that Knockout took greatly, “N..No…Of course not my liege, I’m just concerned for your safety is all.. considering that Dark Energon is quite volatile.” Knockout sputtered, failing to form fully coherent sentences. He was starting to sound like Starscream. Suddenly, he knew how he felt. 

“In comparison to Energons votality?” Megatron asked and Knockout felt slightly stupid in that brief moment, “Indeed.. since the components are different from normal Energon.. as such it’s volatily also changes as well.” He explained quickly, but Megatron didn’t seem pleased with his answer.

“I’ll compile that list for you..” Knockout stated, defeated as he hung his helm. Megatron stared at him for a moment longer before speaking again, “See that you do.” He remarked before turning and walking back to the control console where Soundwave had moved to the side for him. 

Knockout let out a brief vent as Megatron walked off, he turned and looked at Breakdown as they stepped back into the hall. Breakdown was on edge, “I would’ve stepped in if he had done anything.” He stated as he looked at Knockout trying to quell his worries. 

“You don’t have to be the punching bag for me, I can handle myself. Though… I do appreciate it.” Knockout praised with some reluctance. Breakdown responded by gently caressing his back. 

Knockout let him for a couple of kliks before grabbing his servo and walking him back to the medical bay, “Let’s just get this over with before I lose my processor.” He huffed while Breakdown followed him without protest. 

Megatron placed his servos against the console, clenching them and holding back his impulsive desire to smash the digital control panel into the ground. Another rejected message made him boil, Optimus was quite keen on making him wait. 

Though, there conversation was brief the first call, it was clear through most of the Primes responses that Starscream and his trine resided with them. 

“Don’t take me for an idiot prime, I know you’re harboring that traitor and his treacherous brothers.” Megatron had stated, a snarl written on his face while Optimus remained mostly calm on the other side. Megatron had hoped what he witnessed in the feed cycles prior was just a trick, a ploy for Starscream to deceive Optimus. Though, Optimus held no real reaction to Megatron’s statement, most of his face was covered by the battle mask. It was clear that his lips were pursed in a line, hidden behind the confines of the mask. No matter what Megatron had to say, Optimus was neither happy or interested to hear his reasoning. 

“We are, and they are safe.” Optimus’ honesty at the time made Megatron sick. He felt like the Prime was almost gloating, when in reality that was not the truth. Optimus felt a slight twist of malice towards Megatron’s actions, even more so since having spoken with Thundercracker and Skywarp. No amount of pride could ever make him feel confident to say that his own choices on making bots safe were labeled as gloating, it was appalling to not have basic understanding that the safety of any mech should be a passive constant in an army. Megatron’s blatant disregard for his own was outstandingly bad and disgusting in its own right. An aspect that Optimus failed to respect.

“And the discussion of negotiation in return of my Second in Command?” Megatron asked coyly, as if expecting the Prime to yield within immediate request. But as falsely as he led himself to believe, Optimus was not willing to play his games. 

“No. There is no negotiation. All further decisions are chosen by Starscream, regarding his and his brothers safety. I will not make that choice for him.” Optimus responded gruffly, treating Starscream as an independent rather than an asset. His words separated the Decepticon SIC and the Neutral Partisan Starscream, the divide in the two concepts was already making a difference in impact. An impact that affected Megatron mostly. 

Having heard what he felt he needed to hear Megatron ended the call without saying his goodbyes, though he’s never been polite the Prime in the first place. 

Starscream had become an ally, rather than a captive as much as Megatron hoped he would’ve become. It would’ve made his retrieval easier, if not simple in the grand scheme of things. The fact that Starscream had simply chosen to stay was baffling on its own but was not the final product of self-righteousness. Starscream was ingrained with the Decepticon nature, it would be difficult for him to disobey when a particular situation were to appear before him. Especially one that benefitted his own well-being. 

Megatron would just have to be the one to offer it to him.

Yes. This would be simple, especially knowing the information that Knockout gave him, Megatron would know just what to do and say to coax the seeker back to his team. 

The main part would be to retrieve him first.

“Soundwave. You have a new task.” Megatron said suddenly, voice booming and loud. It caused most of the working vehicons to jump, while the silent mech simply turned to him, unfazed by the volume of their leader.

“Hunt down the Autobot base. I don’t care what methods you use, we are retrieving Starscream. With or without his brothers.” He ordered, motioning his servo to the console. Soundwave nodded with his order and immediately turned to the console to begin tracking anything that would somehow lead them to the Autobot base. 

Megatron pleased with Soundwaves compliance turned to the ships windows, staring out at the gray skies. Dreery as was the weather, fitting to his mood. 

“Hide all you want, Starscream. I will find you.”

Chapter Text

"We have a problem." Ratchet had started the conversation like that, a grim expression on his face. One of the few times that the medic was truly upset and for once, it made Optimus feel slightly nervous to hear his report. He tapped his digits against his desk while Ratchet fished a data pad from his subspace. 

“What is it?” Optimus asked reluctantly as the medic approached his desk, still sporting the grim expression. Ratchet had returned from the grueling three breems of doing nothing but extreme diagnosing. While Starscream was mostly incapacitated the entire time, he did attempt to put up a fight with Ratchet the first instance of the medic even attempted to do much further than a surface scan. 

Whether or not Starscream knew what exactly was happening to himself was an entirely different question and one that Optimus didn't want to ask.

“He’s stable and returning to his normal health, but his results show something that might become a problem and I’m upset I didn’t notice the signs earlier.” Ratchet admitted angrily before thrusting the data pad into Optimus’ hands as if the piece of technology was physically hurting him. 

Void of patient confidentiality, Optimus felt it was necessary to take this step since Starscream was failing to properly care for himself. He knew that there was a definitive reason as to why Starscream was acting the way he was, as it wasn't usual for him. The more Optimus thought about it, he realized just how unusual Starscreams behavior was, especially leading up from the past couple of battles. When he fully read the results, his mouth became a thin line and an overwhelming amount of.. anger overcame him in that split moment. He was quick to suppress it once he put the data pad down on the table. He stared at it for a moment longer before looking at Ratchet who was avoiding his gaze.

Megatron became somebot of a mech who held no respect in Optimus’ optics but this new turn of events made him shove the Decepticon Leader further down the ladder of barbarous and extreme. It was... heinous, much more now since Megatron had no immediate consequences for such an action.

“How far along?” He asked, wanting to cement what he just read even though he saw the numbers. He pushed the data pad back towards Ratchet. It skidded against the table roughly and bumped the medics servo with the momentum. Ratchet's servo pulled away as if it had burned him.

“Four jours (months). Whenever this occurred, it was before the most.. recent.. attack and before we had him in our custody. A thorough scan showed remnants of the attack you mentioned…” Ratchet paused, trying to get ahold of his own emotions before he continued.

“He was.. destroyed, Optimus. The inner mesh lining was torn, gestational tank was glitched shut. The rest of his frame underwent several lacerations during.. and after. Both externally and internally. I’m not sure how he survived. I’m not sure how the bitling survived.” Ratchet vented, fans running to cool his overheating frame. He was angry; angry at Megatron for being indecent, for being barbaric. He was angry at himself for not noticing the signs of a struggling mech, not noticing the signs of the atrocities further than verbal and sometimes physical abuse.

“Primus.. if I had known—“ Ratchet wailed, tearing himself apart, servo clamping down on the metal of the table but Optimus stopped him from hurting himself. He grabbed his hand and held it to prevent further damage, “You couldn’t have known, and judging by Starscream’s behavior leading up to this it doesn’t look like he did either.” Optimus assured, angry in his own right but more concerned over the fact that Ratchet was breaking down in front of him. 

Saving lives was his derogative. It had been years since Ratchet had seen or dealt with a sparkling. The symptoms and the behavioral problems became apparent to him the more he thought about it. But what made him more upset was that Megatron not only violated Starscream out of sick righteousness but he also violated that sparkling that was living inside him. Starscream and that child’s life status was a miracle in itself. No one, no one should’ve been able to survive an attack like that. 

“Is he awake?” Optimus asked, trying to drag him from his thoughts. Ratchet spent a moment breathing to get himself back on track before pulling his hand away from Optimus', “Yes, he should be awake by now.” He responded quietly, looking at the Autobot leader with a wary expression. 

“Has he been made aware?” Optimus followed up, worrying a little less when Ratchet had managed to calm himself down, “No… no he hasn’t. I’ve been spending time trying to stabilize the other issues that it didn’t come to mind when I finished.” Ratchet explained and Optimus nodded with his words.

“I’ll go speak with him.” Optimus replied, waiting for any sort of protest from Ratchet but none came. Instead the medic gave him a slight look, as if begging him to do it instead of himself. Optimus understood the implications and walked to the medical bay with a bit of a drag in his steps. 

A wave of sympathy washed over him as he got closer to the doors. He chastised himself internally, wishing he would’ve noticed the signs earlier on in the war. Wishing he would’ve rescued the seeker earlier. Though he knew that Starscream would've denied any abuse when confronted. That fact only cemented itself when he remembered that he was only brought here because his brothers had managed to convince him to defect.

When he entered, Starscream was sitting up in the medical berth, mumbling to himself. He didn’t notice the Autobot leader at first and rambled on quietly. The color to his frame had returned and he seemed much more awake and aware than he was breems ago. A drip was hooked up to his arm, along with what seemed to be a booster to accelerate the self-repair process. 

Optimus—feeling awkward and not wanting to scare the seeker—cleared his throat, which caught Starscream’s attention almost immediately. His senses were sharper, which was very good. It was unfortunate that all this good was about to be shrouded in some tricky news. 

“Starscream.” He greeted as calmly as he could as he took a seat across from Starscream. Starscream seemed to be on edge, curious and concerned as to why the leader was in Ratchets place. He shifted his position on the berth as if to accomodate to the leader but also scooted himself back to put a distance between them. The trauma of Megatron seemed to never leave him and Optimus felt uneasy knowing that his frame size causes the seeker distress.

“Prime.” Starscream warily greeted, still not used to the leaders presence, “To what do I owe the pleasure..?” He asked with a slight cringe in his expression. His wings were tilted up, stiff and alert. Whatever Optimus had to say, was more than likely not going to go well with Starscream.

“I am stepping in for Ratchet on this instance. He wanted me to notify you of something. But before I do, how are you doing?” Optimus asked. Starscream’s expression had shifted with his confusion, surprisingly more expressive since his mysterious illness had become a problem, “I’m fine..? Much better than I was before, if that’s what you were looking for.” Starscream commented, leaning back a bit as if to create more distance between him and Optimus.

“I will be honest with you, Starscream. I read the report.” Optimus said blatantly, watching as Starscream’s expression shifted again but mainly staying on a cautious, concerned, look. 

“What report?” Starscream asked suspiciously. His wings twitched but remained mostly still with his skepticism. 

“Ratchet conducted a full, extensive, report on your frame. I understand that is not what you wanted—“ Optimus had started to explain but Starscream was already reacting before he could finish, “Not what I wanted!? This is an invasion of my privacy! Something that I’ve constantly been telling you and that medic since day one!” Starscream yelled, exasperated and feeling overtly betrayed. The seekers emotions were unpredictable, a cause that Optimus knew now, so he nodded with his response, expecting that reaction from him. He felt guilty for going against Starscream’s wishes but at the same time, the seeker had been basically destroying himself due to some sort of pride issue.

“I know this upsets you, I do. But it was necessary. Even more so with this new information that we have.” Optimus continued, being careful with his words. At the mention of ‘new information’, Starscream seemed to calm his mini tirade, confused again and now even more anxious, “New information? What new information?” He asked urgently, wanting, hoping that this new information would be the solution to his problems.

“Starscream, the scans show your carrying a sparkling.” Optimus finally broke the news. He expected anything, maybe an lash out or some sort of anxious babbling but not laughter. The laughter that spewed from Starscream’s vocalizer was... nervous laughter mostly. He didn’t immediately believe the Prime.

“Thats… that’s not possible. I’m not a carrier, my frame isn’t even a match to carrier frames..” Starscream became very rattled in a strange way, and then his entire demeanor shifted. His optics stared at Optimus with a very distant look, but his frame still tremored.

“Is it.. is it his?” The question was very specific, one that Optimus wished he didn’t have to answer honestly.

“It is." Optimus confirmed the seekers obvious suspicions, "You’ve been carrying that sparkling for about four jours. Much before your defection.” Optimus explained softly which didn’t seem to calm the seeker at all. It was set in stone now that Megatron had basically ruined his life, physically and mentally. 

Starscream felt like his entire world just collapsed and everything made sense in a twisted way. The sudden changes, the vomiting, the spark aches. And that mech.. that weird riddled mech. 

Congratulations? What a sick, fucking, joke.

Optimus couldn’t say anything to help the situation, even as Starscream crumpled in on himself and sobbed. Coolant spilling down his face and into his servos. He cried until he couldn't, ignoring Optimus as the prime sat uncomfortably across from the distressed seeker. He was unsure on what to say and what to do, so he sat in silence as he let Starscream expel his emotions.

When was the last time he cried? It’s been awhile.

Ironic. Isn’t it? An oppurtunity to escape to freedom and yet he still plagues you in his own way.

The news of the newfound sparkling was not the only thing that Optimus told Starscream. He underlined the other issues that was wrong with his frame along with what Ratchet had fixed. He wasn’t given the data pad that documented all of what his findings were, but Starscream wasnt looking to have it anyway. He had seen the extense of his history before, forced to have it in his memory bank for future medical procedures. He kept it for mostly frame reconfigurations but now he didn't even want to see it. Though, he was sure that it will at one point be given to him.

Toiling alone after Optimus left, Starscream had nothing else but to bitterly stare at the confines of his chassis. Trapped inside his spark chamber was a part of Megatron that Starscream didn’t wish to have. He contemplated for multiple moments that death was suitable for the both of them. He didn’t want to give birth to the sparkling in the midst of war. He didn’t want to give birth to something that was a literal part of Megatron but he constantly snuffed the thought when it surfaced.

Optimus’ words repeated in his processor, “No mech should’ve survived that attack. You’re lucky, Starscream. You being online with that healthy sparkling is a miracle in itself.” And Starscream let the thought of self-destruction leave his processor entirely. 

He placed a servo on his chassis, as if attempting to feel the sparkling through the plating. It was the size of a marble. It had no real conscious until the later jours but it felt weird to think about. He thought about it longer, if he did have this sparkling, he could teach it things that he would have rather have learned himself. This child wouldn’t be a Decepticon… but they could be an Autobot and be raised as one. 

He scoffed at his own thoughts, “Look at me, trying to make sense of all this and you’ve been nothing but a nuisance since the beginning.” He didn’t mean his harsh words, but knowing that this sparkling was going to be apart of his life for the next five jours, he was attempting at being optimistic. And failing, horribly.

“I’m not good at this sort of thing.” Starscream mumbled, dejected, “You picked the worst carrier.” He muttered, staring down at his chassis, as if the sparkling could up and leave if it wanted to. When he got no answer but silence, he groaned and laid back on the berth, servos placed against his face. 

“I need help.” Starscream asked, begrudgingly, when Ratchet came in to check on him in the morning. Ratchet gave him a look, an optic ridge raising in curiosity. The seeker looked tired but still quite energetic even after recharging for the entire night, he seemed to be looking for genuine advice from the medic which made Ratchet feel like he was almost being deceived.

“What kind of help?” Ratchet asked as he grabbed a scanner to check on the progress of his repairs. Starscream seemed apprehensive to say anything at first but eventually got it out, “I have no idea how to deal with this.. sparkling issue.” Starscream stated while motioning to his chassis. 

Ratchet stared at him for a moment before he snorted, “Get in line. Most of us haven’t seen or dealt with a sparkling since pre-war.” He responded as he ran the scan. Starscream gave him a slight glare, “Wonderful, I guess that explains why you didn’t know what was wrong with me until the very end.” He argued, a jab at the medics expertise and Ratchet returned the look with a glare of his own. 

“I tried my best with the resources I had. And with you constantly pushing me away, how was I supposed to know what’s wrong with you? Don’t act like your out of fault just because you’re feeling better.” Ratchet bickered with Starscream, arms crossing over one another, “Which, if I had to mention, you’re only feeling better because of my intervention.” 

Starscream snarled, clearly not happy with not getting the last word but the medic was right and he couldn’t argue that he felt much better. He took a look at his frame again, happy that the color to his frame had returned and he was vibrant again but then the thoughts plagued him and he looked away to focus on something else. Ratchet seemed to notice his behavior change and vented softly, "We are angry for you Starscream, if that makes any difference." Ratchet stated as he replaced the drip on Starscreams arm. 

Starscream kept frowning, despite his feelings, "It doesn't, I learned that this extension of me was conceived multi-cycles ago before I decided to leave and I have no idea, or even an inkling of understanding on how to raise a sparkling." He admitted, "If there might've been a different time-frame, a different circumstance... a different sire. I would have some stability to raise a sparkling. But this..." He couldn't continue, the further he thought about it, the further he would spiral and he was already contemplating destruction. He didn't want to be stuck in his own processor again. 

"Starscream, we will help you. Birth is not an easy process and it never will be. Thats why I've taken the liberty of doing your usual check-ups. No ifs, ands or buts now, I will be taking care of you on the medical side. As far as outside of the medical bay, its up to you to decide on who to tell, though in my personal opinion, I feel it would be best to tell your brothers. They care about you." Ratchets advice, this time, was one of the few times that Starscream was going to take. 

His brothers deserved to know, as much as it was going to add onto the fuel to the hate train that had started to become a thing amongst the Autobot ranks. He also had no idea how his brothers would react to such a revelation, and he was mostly concerned with Thundercracker becoming upset about the entire ordeal in the first place. Considering the fact that this sparkling was a result of an unfortunate event.

Ratchet returned to him with the familiar stasis cuffs while he sat idly in his thoughts. They shined blue and silver in his servos and for a moment Starscream forgot that they weren’t even on him. When they were linked back around his wrists, he stared at them numbly. Ratchet vented with a knowing look. “It’s precautionary. Don’t forget, you still have a long way to go. But we have taken the sparkling into consideration.” Ratchet explained as Starscream realigned himself on the berth, his wings returned to their relaxed state and he ignored the cuffs for now. They didn’t limit his movement at least and he was glad about that. 

“For now, you’re free to go, if anything changes, you notify me. Got it?” The medics concerns were being hammered into the seekers circuitry and all he could do was nod and roll his optics, “I get it.” Starscream responded as he hopped off the berth and walked out to the connecting hall. He stood in the middle of it for a moment, the clarity of his processor made him actually take in his surroundings much more than when he came under Autobot custody. 

Were the symptoms that bad that it altered his present mental status?

To prevent himself from being stuck in a loop, he looked around. The base was quite busy that morning, with some bots he recognized while others he didn’t, not immediately of course. He tried to keep his distance from most of them while he returned to his shared quarters, but amongst the few bots that he came across one of them was Arcee. He couldn't seem to avoid her, no matter how hard he tried. He'd rather not start a fight with somebot other than his brothers, much less a renowned Autobot.

She was in quite the fowl mood and didn’t suppress a glare when he came into sight, “Starscream.” She hissed out as she passed the seeker, luckily not sparing time to chastise him. Starscream held his glossia when it came to insulting her, responding to her with just a simple nod. As much as he wanted to say something to the femme, he was on probation and as such he had to watch what he said. Even if his processor was screaming at him to call her some sort of slur.

When he made it back to his quarters, Skywarp and Thundercracker were attempting to busy themselves with boring items. They seemed crucially concerned and upset, having not recovered from the earlier incident. A sight that didn't make Starscream feel good, at all.

As they caught sight of Starscream when he entered, both of the seeker brothers came and enveloped him tightly. Shuttering their vents, Skywarp was really the only one attempting not to cry again. Thundercracker was more reserved and held more mild anger than sadness. 

Starscream, still reluctant on physical affection, returned the embrace with cautious abandon, “What’s going on?” He asked, though in hindsight the question was stupid. Still, his memory banks served nothing but to remind him of the sight of his crying brothers faces when he woke up from the strange limbo. The image hurt, dreadfully. But he felt his brothers had more insight as to what happened while he was incapicitated.

“Whats going on?” Skywarp repeated his question in disbelief, “We thought you fragging died!” Warp wailed, not wanting to let go of Starscream. Starscream felt even more confused at this revelation.

Death? 

He had certainly been on its cusp before but he didn’t feel like the recent event was the closest he had ever come to dying before. Though, he sensed familiarity in Skywarp and Thundercracker reactions and he couldn’t put down where he had experienced this before. 

“Well, I’m not dead. Where is this coming from? I don’t remember what happened before I woke up to you two next to me.” Starscream tried to make sense of what little he could understand. Skywarp was becoming an emotional mess again while TC was being the next edgelord and not speaking to him for these kliks that he’s being, essentially, coddled.

Skywarp attempted to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation, telling the events from their point of view. At the time of his sudden trance in limbo, the bond split for an entire breem. The split was painful and hollow, as if Starscream had died. The feeling had been felt by both TC and Warp at the time it happened and when they came looking for him, Ratchet was already performing measures to stabilize him. 

His spark output had dropped significantly, as if not providing any further energy to keep his systems running. Coupled with the fact that Starscream found out the sparkling was siphoning more energy from his spark than it should’ve, it inadvertently crashed him, to the extent that Ratchet thought Starscream was going to die.

As such, the surge on his systems—and the sparkling creating more damage than it intended to—caused a lapse in his memory. One that plagued him for an entire cycle now. 

Puzzles were piecing together and Starscream could only do one thing and it was to opt for an apology, even though he had no real understanding of the cause of concern. He wished he could rewind time and feel the instance that they were talking about. 

Maybe, it was like when he lost Skyfire. That, hollow, sharp feeling, as if something was missing. 

The memory jolted many things from him, such as his remembrance of Cryak and the last conversation that he had with her. It was that pain of grief and longing all over again. It made his spark ache again, but he wasn’t sure if it was his feelings or the sparkling harbored in his chest. 

Before Starscream had left the medical bay earlier, Ratchet had explained to him the further implications of his internal damage, one of which made the medic look at his spark during the full operation. 

Ones spark normally was a white color, maybe teal, or even blue. Signifying a healthy born spark, a neutral color to symbolize it, Primus made and given. Often different colors in a persons spark signified something that was in relation to its frame. Purple often signified Triple Changers or other frames that supported mutliple alt modes. Yellow signified combiners. Green was in relation to the Mini-Cons. While, Starscream’s spark was Red. A deep ruby red that sometimes shifted to an orange-red on occasion.

Starscream’s collection of information did not tell him what the meaning of a red spark meant. Neither did Ratchet affirm his concerns either. It seemed the medic was also in the dark about this information as much as he was, which scared him to some extent.

At first he believed it had something to do with cold constructs, and he was stupid enough to mention it Ratchet in a brief respite. He rambled on an excuse as to why he brought it up but Ratchet didn’t question him on it and said it was a possibility. A possibility that Starscream would end up researching later on.

“Theres something I want to tell you both.” He said when they both had finally settled down and let him go, they were anxious but curious as to what the trine leader had to say. Starscream felt more nervous than them, he had no gauge on how they would react and he contemplated for a full klik on not saying anything at all.

“The cause of the issues, the weird illness that we—.. that I didn’t know, was the cause of me being sparked.” His statement came out weaker than expected, he had tried to push himself to feel proud of the bot that he was creating. Pushing aside the implications of its conception, he tried to love the creation inside of him but all he felt was rage and disgust. The implications were the reason why he was here in the first place. Yet, he wished for it to have a better life than he had built for himself and that seemed to ground his processor again, once more. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp were silent, and for the first time in his life Starscream felt a deep humiliation. Only because he valued his brothers opinions more than his own, though he would never say it out loud. 

“H…how far along are you?” Warp was the first to ask, shuttering his optics to keep any sort of feelings from seeping and Starscream just stared at the ground, “Four jours.” He mumbled in response.

That response seemed to crack Thundercracker, “So before we even defected? You’ve been carrying?” His questions were in disbelief, disgust and most of all rage. He was angry at Megatron. Angry at himself. 

“There was another time..? Before you called for us?” Skywarp felt absolutely broken by that information, and Starscream couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. 

“Y..yes. It was not as gruesome but..—“ Starscream started but TC interrupted, “But he still took advantage of you. Violated you and then sparked you without a care in the world. That fragger!” He growled, stomping his pede with a loud yell. 

Starscream had started crying again, only because he expected something else, he expected them to throw him away or tell him that he was a liar. He was glad that he was wrong. He was glad that his brothers cared as much as they did and he hated himself for doubting their compassion. He collapsed to his knees and sobbed again, this time wailing as if he was a sparkling. Thundercracker and Skywarp kneeled beside him, comforting him and holding him, trying to console him as they knew just what to say. 

This time Starscream accepted it, leaning into them and feeling safe again.

“It’s okay, Star. We’ve got you.” Skywarp cooed, rubbing the back of his wings in gentle circles. The purple seeker was also inadvertently comforting himself as well, his EM field gave away to his sympathy. Thundercracker simply held his servo, squeezing when he felt that Starscream needed it, still angry despite wanting to help him.

“We can do this together. We’ll help you.” Thundercracker assured as he squeezed his servo again, “Brothers never leave each other behind. We work together, save each other and kick aft.” He pressed his helm against Starscream’s and Skywarp’s. The red seeker returned the affection with quiet gratitude, thankful for both of them.

You’re going to have some rowdy but caring uncles, sweet spark.

Knockout was quiet for most of his focused time, compiling a list that included all of the symptoms from Dark Energon. Including consumption. He knew his leader, as much as he didn’t want to.

“How are you doing?” Breakdowns voice had cut through his thought process as the wrecker walked into their shared quarters. Knockout smiled tiredly at his conjunx as the mech placed down a box of parts, “I’m alright. I am almost finished.” Knockout stated triumphantly as he could while showing BD the data pad that had continuous lines of text that listed the symptoms in alphabetical order. 

“Thats… a lot of information.” Breakdown commented simply, not wanting to read it all and Knockout vented with a small frown, “Trust me, I know.” He said as he placed it down on the table and stared at it blankly for a moment.

“Do you think Starscream is doing okay?” Knockouts sudden question caught Breakdown off-guard. It was clear the red medic was hooked on Starscream’s condition and it was tearing him up. 

Breakdown gently rubbed his back and leaned down to plant a kiss on Knockouts cheek, “I’m sure he’s alright, he’s a tough bot. Probably one of the toughest seekers I know.” He assured, “You have to be mindful of yourself sometimes too. You can’t be blaming yourself for something out of your control.” Breakdown reminded him as he stood back up. 

Knockout continued to frown, even if he felt better with the affection from BD. At the time, he looked into the request from Megatron, he found it odd. Out of place even. 

Megatron had requested for him to look through Starscream’s documented medical records to see if there were specific symptoms after a recent time-frame, as if the warlord knew what he was looking for. As if the warlord knew the result already. 

When it was true, Knockout confirming with his own research, he felt sick to his tank. Starscream had clear signs of being sparked yet because of either some form of tunnel vision or distraction Knockout never commented on it or even diagnosed it. 

The revelation was disgusting on its own, considering Megatron’s reaction upon being told. Knockout even regretted on saying anything in the first place. The Decepticon leader was unnaturally delighted about the idea, as if raping the SIC into carrying his child was something he had been wanting to do for a while. And maybe it was true. But Knockout couldn’t determine Megatron’s psyche even if he tried. 

He should’ve come up with some sort of lie. Not only did he blame himself for not diagnosing it sooner but he also just put Starscream in more danger because of his mistake. 

“I can’t do this Breakdown.” Knockout mumbled as continued to stare at the data pad, “I should’ve said something else. A lie. Anything.” Breakdown watched him with a sympathetic gaze before sitting down next to him and making the flamboyant mech look at him. 

“You know he would’ve suspected you were lying. He would’ve done his own research and still found out the truth. Blaming yourself for trying to save your own life is not a mistake. You’re not perfect, you have your own ways of doing things. Every bot has flaws and I don’t know what got mixed around in your processor to choose me because Im full of them but you have them too. We all do. Nothing can change that.” Breakdown grabbed hold of his servo and squeezed. Knockout returned the gesture with a small vent. 

“Besides, Starscream can handle himself. You’ve seen him fight and get back up. Don’t destroy that wonderful processor of yours worrying so much about the past and think about the present, besides your facial plate doesn’t look as beautiful with that frown.” Breakdowns flattery was pushing down the walls that Knockout had created and the red medic placed a servo against his own face, out of embarrassment. The wrecker would always speak the most when Knockout was down and he wouldn’t change that for the world.

“Shut up, before I regret letting you in here.” He snarkily replied and Breakdown only chuckled, “There you are.” He grinned mischievously and Knockout rolled his eyes with a smile, feeling better. 

Chapter Text

This was the first earth week that Starscream had decent health since joining the Autobots with his brothers, even if they were labeled as neutral partisans, they were still under Autobot regulation. With more instances coming up where Starscream was exposed to the nature of the opposite faction, he felt like he was in an odd dream, finding disbelief in certain actions that he came across.

One of the things he wished he was notified on during the initial agreement was the intrusion of humans. They were a pest when he was given reign to sit freely in the main control room without issue. Though, he supposed he should’ve assumed that human contact was inevitable considering Optimus’ compassion for the organics. 

While he was attempting to become acclimated to the new base and its inhabitants, he found that often times Optimus sat idly near the console, working on Primus knows what. The leader was usually awake for most of the day and would only disappear for maybe a couple of breems before returning to his assumed post. 

Today was no different, this time with the accompaniment of the human children that they often kept around. Jack, Miko and Rafael were seated at their own little area while Optimus worked nearby. 

“Hey Optimus,” Jacks voice cut through whatever focus that Optimus had and the prime turned to Jack with a curious glance, “Yes, Jack?” He asked as the human approached him in catwalk, intending on asking at least a couple of questions. It was obvious by his demeanor that this conversation was going to be an unhappy one.

“I know you had briefly told us about the new bots that were going to be hanging around the base but you didn’t mention that it was going to be Starscream and his brothers.” Jacks tone seemed to imply some sort of malice. Whatever Arcee had ingrained in the humans mind had transferred from her to this mini male version of her. A sight that made Starscream visibly sneer.

“While I understand that you too have your own hatred towards him, he is here to better himself and has made choices thus far to support it.” Optimus replied, acknowledging that Jack wouldn’t really like that answer. Which he didn’t, Jack seemed unhappy with the Primes response, “I don’t believe it, Starscream is as equally as bad as Megatron, if not worse. I feel like he’s deceiving you Optimus.” Jack tried to argue with the prime to no avail. Optimus had his own opinions on the matter and he did not want to personally involve the humans on the issues of Starscream’s underlying feelings and physical problems. He felt that the information was too traumatic to uphold anyway.

He had vowed to himself that he would tell the truth eventually to the rest of the team when the inevitable came. It seemed Ratchet was upholding that vow as well which made Optimus continue to feel appreciation towards the medic for his work and dedication.

“I will not speak no more on the matter,” Optimus ended the conversation with a simple look, “I’ve already told you my reasoning and I have no intentions on changing it.” The invocation from the Prime was admirable, and while he valued the lives and opinions of the humans that have come to trust them. He felt that the trauma from these recent events were too difficult to explain and to bear.

Jack scoffed in disbelief and stomped off down the catwalk like a child having a tantrum. Rafael seemed to have watched the entire ordeal and although he trusted Optimus’ judgement he was also hesitant of Starscream’s presence even if the seeker hadn’t overtly done anything to warrant a reaction.

Starscream’s reputation preceded him on every occasion that involved the other bots that roamed the halls of the Autobot base. He couldn’t have conversations with certain bots because of his history. Not that he wanted to try and have a relationship with some of them anyway.

He mostly spent his time surrounded by his, now possessive, brothers who seemed quite adamant of knowing how he was feeling every second of the day. 

“One more question and I will lose my processor.” He hissed at Skywarp when the overactive purple seeker asked him for the twentieth time if he was feeling alright.

Skywarp openly pouted, wings mimicking his emotions even if it was deceptive, “I’m just making sure you’re okay, especially since you’re carrying our soon-to-be niece or nephew.” Starscream gave him a look, arms crossing over his chassis, “Speak louder, maybe the entire base will hear you.” He stated sarcastically. His optics glanced across the room and it seemed that no other bot had heard them, yet, but it still made him nervous. His wings showed his anxiousness and Skywarp's tune switched up a bit at the mention of voice volume. He knew he was a loud talker.

It was known by the trine that only Ratchet and Optimus knew about the sparklings conception and they were adamant on keeping the information private unless stated otherwise and by Starscream’s discretion. If Starscream wanted someone to know about it, he would be the one to say it. The red seeker didn’t want anyone to be aware of it anyway besides his brothers, it already made him uncomfortable knowing that Optimus and Ratchet knew about it. But he knew that if they didn’t, he wouldn’t be there today anyway.

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one, let alone one that’s going to be a seeker.” Skywarps wings fluttered with his excitement as he blabbed on about the sparkling with a quieter volume. Starscream listened occasionally to his spouts before responding, “We don’t know if it’s going to be strictly a seeker. From what Ratchet told me, it’s possible it’s going to be a hybrid.” 

Thundercracker sat down next to them with cubes in hand, Starscream took it with a bit of fervor and started to drink it while Skywarp took his cube with a grin, “What are you both talking about? A hybrid?” TC asked as he sipped his own, inserting himself into the conversation as he sat down. 

“The sparkling. The medic told Star that the sparkling might be a hybrid.” Skywarp intervened his thoughts with a nod, still keeping his voice volume at a low. His servo motioned to Starscream as he spoke, the red seeker holding a disgruntled look. TC looked between the two of them with uncertainty, “A hybrid of a tank and seeker?” He asked, trying to confirm the image that had manifested in his processor, “Doesn’t that mean the sparkling will be larger than average?” 

Starscream finished his cube and nodded, “Yes, you’re correct. The larger the sire, the larger the offspring.” He waved his servo in a pensive way as he spoke, replicating his thoughts in a motion of fluid movement with just digits alone. 

Skywarp seemed to take that information into account for a moment before responding, “But doesn’t it also mean there might be a possibility that it could lean more into one side than the other?” Skywarp asked and Starscream gave him a confused look, servo halting with his pause in thoughts, “You mean between the divide of seeker and tank? It’s possible. I suppose, I haven’t studied the physiology relating to genetics with sparklings.” The red seeker shrugged with his response and leaned back, flattening out his wings and placing his servos against the metal of the seat. 

The conversation felt like a subtle reminder to his intelligence, it had been a while since he debated and he missed the semantic arguements at the Senate’s table. When it came to the subject of their discussion, Starscream knew many things but genetic science was not entirely one of them. He pondered for a moment if it was something he needed to look into in the future, considering the situation.

Skywarp and Thundercracker watched him for a moment while they sipped their cubes. They felt awkward, seeing as how the trine leader was mostly back to normal. Save for the fact that he was like the trigger on a blaster when it came to emotional responses, it felt like eons since they’ve seen Starscream properly relax. But the desire for comfort was subpar, considering that a sparkling was now occupying the space in their trine leaders spark.

The stasis cuffs gleemed a bit brighter in their field of view. Reminding them of their status.

“How does it feel? Like now that you know, does it feel any different?” Skywarps questions felt more particular now. The red seeker shifted in his seat, rolling his neck as if to get more comfortable, but the stiffness in his wings still told them that he was guarded. Starscream hadn’t really thought on it. The sparkling had become something he was only recently aware of and the more he acknowledged the being growing inside his spark chamber, the more he could feel it. Notice it.

It was like a second heart, accompanied by his own. Every breath he took, any misstep he would make, laugh, cough, cry; the sparkling would move and react. It was like a feeling a hiccup but minuscule and sometimes would have no affect. Other times, it would cause the nausea to return, or sometimes it would be a sting of sensation.

Whatever the little one had to say was exuberant and forward. Having no voice but still wanting to talk. The thought almost tugged a smile onto his facial plate but he resisted.

Starscream looked towards Skywarp, taking a moment to contemplate his response before speaking, “It feels crowded. I can separate our bond from the sparkling, the energy it resonates feels strange. It reacts to sensations and I can feel it.” Starscream explained. His gaze became downcast and he stared at the empty cube in front of him. His digit pressed into the corner of it, willing it to break. Claw curved inside its edge. 

“Before I knew, I thought it was because of a different reason, my spark has always felt off.” His words became more somber the more he spoke, he hated the sick, sinking feeling that accompanied the pain when he acknowledged the incomplete bond. TC and Warp knew what he was referencing, they were the ones who tried to help him, working him through the pain of losing his then lover. 

The memories made Starscream cringe and he pressed harder on the corner of the empty cube. It caved with the pressure and cracked but not breaking. 

“Are you ever going to talk to him again?” Thundercracker asked, trying to be calm when the seekers optics flicked up from staring too long at the cube. The blue seeker motioned with his servo to Skyfire. The shuttle was not too far from them, speaking with the Autobot leader. Their conversation was too far to hear anything legible, not that Starscream cared to know what any of it was about. 

A flicker of guilt flashed across the red seekers face when he glanced in Skyfires direction. He had paid no mind to the seeker, which hurt more the more he sat there. Starscream wanted to say and do multiple things. To make up for what he’s done. But their relationship was still too fragile and he felt that attempting to speak with Skyfire was going to pull him down a rabbit hole he didn’t want to be in.

“I’m not sure.” Starscream stated honestly, returning his gaze back to his brothers. TC nodded, “I feel like you should. You’re only going to see more of him now.” He took a sip of his cube while the red seeker toiled in his own thoughts for a moment. He didn't want to be forced to deal with this issue but he knew it inevitably would happen. For now, he was just going to avoid the shuttle even further until he could feel grounded enough to deal with him.

Their tender moment was suddenly interrupted by a small human girl with pigtails sauntering over to their makeshift table, “Starscream! Starscream!” Miko yelled with a screeching voice that rivaled his own. Starscream held back a growl as he looked at Miko with trickling irritation. Starscream held back any sort of protocol to snatch the child and squeeze. Annoyance fluttered through his EM field at a quick rate, Skywarp and Thundercracker wings both flicked in time with the sudden emotional change.

Starscream was much more intensely emotional now that the sparkling was the cause. So the brothers took it upon themselves to make sure the trine leader didn’t say or do anything he would regret. At the moment, the human child was currently testing Starscream patience without even knowing, so the brothers sat up correctly and focused on the both of them.

“What do you want fleshling?” He asked, facade having returned and boisterous as usual. He stared down at the loud child with expectancy, still teetering on a thin line of annoyance and irritation. He didn't want to be talking this human any more than he wanted to.

Behind her at a distance was Rafael and Jack, trying to call her back to the catwalk. But Miko, a very avid rebel, did not listen to them though Starscream wished she had. He didn’t want to be conversing with humans, much less Bulkheads pet.

“I know you’re all big and bad but I’ve always wanted to take a ride in the cockpit of a jet! Would you take me?” Mikos questions were baffling and amusing at the same time, he couldn’t help but scoff at her request. He also had no idea why this girl had no inkling of awareness when it came to dangerous individuals. A sight that Bulkhead would gawk at and probably would’ve scrambled to get her away from him.

But unfortunately the green brass brain was no where to be seen, actively on early patrol with Arcee and Bumblebee. An intervention that he was slightly thankful for. He considered this his consequence for being away from the aggressors of the Autobot group.

Skywarp and Thundercracker shared no sentiment towards the humans either since the appearance of M.E.C.H., but due to Mikos size and her unique behavior, they currently didn’t see her as a threat, while Starscream saw her a nuisance.

Briefly, Starscream glanced at Optimus, to see if the mech had anything to say or do about the situation. What he didn’t expect to see was the blue optics of the leader staring back at him. It was more of an observation to Optimus, but seeing the side view of the Prime with no visible angle to see his mouth and apathetic optics, it felt like Starscream was looking at the leader when he had his battle mask on. It was terrifying.

He looked away from him, now acutely aware of the Autobot leader watching, silently. He refocused his attention on Miko who seemed to be impatiently waiting on his response. He sneered slightly before giving his response, “Bold of you to ask and to think I cared enough to provide to a request. My brothers might be willing to abide.” Starscream remarked and the two seekers gave him their own looks but didn’t exactly verbally protest. Any excuse to fly was a good excuse. 

“No! I don’t even know who they are!” Miko yelled, motioning to the purple and blue seekers, who flashed confused looks at Miko. She quickly replied with; “No offense!” Before returning her focus on Starscream, “I want to go with you.” Miko defended her point and Starscream groaned inwardly. He was beginning to become annoyed of those who were starting to become obsessed with him for no apparent reason. 

Skywarp and Thundercracker found the interaction amusing, much to Starscream’s disapproval. Even the sparkling seemed to wallow in his dramatic social disparity and fluttered in his spark chamber. 

He was being laughed at. 

“That isn’t up for me to decide, as far as I’m aware we’re not allowed to fly. So even I wanted to, I couldn’t. Which I don’t want to anyway.” Starscream explained dully while he stared at Miko. Miko only pouted further, “You’re no fun.” Starscream rolled his optics at the response. For the amount of times he had to break up events, he felt quite immune to any childish attempts to somehow reverse his decisions. Skywarp being one of those mechs who attempted. 

When Miko dragged herself back to her two anxious friends, actively pouting, is finally when Thundercracker decided to comment, “A human child is pretty much an equivalent to a sparkling.” The comment made Skywarp light up with an idea, “Oh yeah! Maybe you could try and gauge the human children and it will give you an idea of how to entertain or cater to a sparkling.” Skywarps idea made Starscream think about it, as much as he didn’t want to. The idea was a decent one but it was one that he hated. He did not want to converse with humans, but he would be forced to because of the Autobots. 

Starscream spared a glance towards the Prime who seemed to have returned to his work, ignoring the seekers gaze. Whatever Optimus was thinking, Starscream wouldn't have an ounce of knowledge as to what he was feeling. Where Megatron was pretty readable on most occasions, Optimus was more unpredictable and in some instances, mysterious. Starscream felt that no matter the amount of time he would spend as a neutral under the watch of the Primes men, he would have a hard time trusting Optimus. There was always the constant fear of him and it wasn't going to go away.

“I hate it.” Starscream openly admitted after a couple of kliks, and Skywarp snorted with his declaration, “I know you would’ve but it’s an idea isn’t it?” He asked expectantly and Starscream’s wings flicked with mild annoyance, “Sure. If you call that an idea.” He remarked with a sarcastic twinge and Skywarp beamed at him. 

"Normally you'd disregard it, so it means you actually think its decent," Skywarp challenged him, his servos pressed against the table as he stood up. His wings outstretched with his mischievousness and Starscream rolled his optics at the display, "Don't pat yourself too hard on the back." Despite Starscreams reluctance and arguing, Skywarp considered it an admittance so the purple seeker sat there with a grin on his face for the rest of the breem. 

Another ping on the console pulled Optimus to look at the screen, this was the third time that Megatron had attempted to communicate with them about Starscream's retrieval and he felt quite exhausted ignoring it. Especially with the special case of the sparkling adding into the mix, Optimus had no reason to speak with the offender. Yet he still answered with a heavy spark, "Prime." Megatron greeted, his expression was nothing but partial glee, as if he had been waiting for the Prime to finally answer his call. 

"Megatron." Optimus response was gritty, uninterested, but he stared at the Decepticon leader with suspicion. There was no visceral reason for the warlord to be as delighted as he was, "As I am under the impression that you do not wish to return my second in command," Megatron started and Optimus frowned, "I am not saying such a thing, I already explained what was going to happen from here on out." Optimus explained dully, staring at the screen with a partial glare. Megatron simply smiled at the expression, "Knowing my cowardly second, he would not bend so easily to return to me with Thundercracker and Skywarp by his side." The statements were obvious to both of them, but to Optimus it felt like there were hidden threats underlying every word he said.

"I would advise you against threatening my men." Optimus responded gruffly and Megatron's response was to laugh, "Your men? So you state that the treachorous trine has officially joined forces with you? I find that hard to believe considering the amount of damage theyve inflicted on your army for the past years." Megatrons observations were true as much as Optimus wished to deny it. He wanted to ignore the harm that the trine inflicted on them but he couldn't, he was forced to watch as they repented for the crimes they've committed. It made him glad but at the same time, the deaths that trailed their shadows were also apparent to the leader and it would never disappear with repentance. 

Though, he had to understand that he had his own hypocrisy. Both him and Megatron.

His silence only seemed to feed into Megatron's delight, and it became more obvious that the tyrant was hiding something, "What is it that you want Megatron?" He felt like he had asked that question multiple times throughout his time as a Prime and no matter how many times he asked it, the question never lost its relevance, "Starscream is not ready to talk to you, his condition is too unstable to even do so. Tell me something different this time."

Megatron spent a moment thinking, "I wish to warn you, consider it a grace of mine to gift you with such an advanced time frame of events." He was starting to speak in riddles, but he got to the point, "Hiding him will do you no good, I will find a way to tear him from your grasp. I just hope you see the signs before I make my move, brother." Megatron's voice was mocking, and even as he ended the call, the words carried a undertone of malice. The word 'brother' drew a distant shudder from the Autobot leader. He felt no such affection towards it anymore, not as he once did. 

"How did it go?" Prowl's entrance threw Optimus off, he felt like he was suddenly declining. With Megatrons words repeating in his helm, for the first time in his life since pre-war, he felt he needed a damn drink. They gave him privacy when he decided to answer the call, hoping that a solution that could be made. But Optimus' expression made Prowl think otherwise and he felt horrible for asking, "He threatened us, yet again." Optimus vented, servo coming to his facial plate as he stared at the console as if Megatron was still scrutinizing him. His servo traced across his own face, the sensation slightly distracting him.

"Thats pretty normal," Prowl reasoned and Optimus shook his head, disappointed, "His threat is more personal this time, he will be making moves to attempt to retrieve Starscream." Optimus explained. He removed his servo from his facial plate and focused his attention on Prowl whose expression was more hardened than neutral. 

Prowl seemed skeptical of Optimus' apprehension, “Why should we prevent that? If he wants Starscream to return, what’s to say that Starscream doesn't want to return?” Prowl asked and Optimus seemed to understand his point. He didn’t ask Starscream, he just assumed. As much as he didn’t want Starscream to return to Megatron, he felt it wasn’t right not to ask the seeker himself. 

So he requested an audience with him again. 

Starscream was skeptical at the request but still met the leader, keeping his distance, "What is the meaning of this?" His question was obvious in the scheme of things, he had a hunch as to what Optimus wanted. It wasn't every day that the leader had wanted to speak with him, in fact it seemed like the Prime was avoiding him these past couple of breems. Whether it was more out of concern for the sparkling, or the fact that Optimus didn't favor him. Either one was reasonable to Starscream.

He was told on a couple of occasions that Megatron had contacted Optimus for negotiation on his retrieval, some times he even heard the warlord when he was close enough to the console on one the fateful nights that Optimus would answer the call for once. The difference in behavior with Megatron is what scared Starscream, but he would never openly admit it.

"Its about Megatron. Hes made statements of coming to retrieve you and up until this point I have denied his requests for negotiation on your release to him." Optimus explained first, getting right to the point. Starscream listened with a curious glance. He was unaware that Optimus was denying negotiation, but he was right about it being in reference to Megatron. He knew it had something to do with him and Starscream was concerned that this conversation was going to lead up to something else entirely. 

He didn't want to go back. 

Don't make me go back.

Optimus spent a minute, debating on what to say. He was at a loss for a moment as what to ask him. Starscream was coherent, partially sane, and as healthy as he could be. As far as Optimus knew, this was the first time he had a decent conversation with Starscream. Whatever the seeker had to say to the inevitable question Optimus was going to ask was going to be a strange experience, "Starscream." His voice drew the attention of the seeker within seconds and Optimus tried to ignore the shutter in his wings, "He's making threats..." Optimus halted himself for a second before continuing, "I should be more specific; hes been making threats, but this time they have become personal." 

Starscream knew what he might'be been entailing, it wasn't the first time his life had become threatened and it wouldn't be the last. Megatron was known to be relentless and determined, sometimes stupidly so. Megatron must've created some doubt in the leader, otherwise Optimus wouldn't have been telling him this, "I assume its because of me." Starscream stated, shifting his position and focusing his attention on the prime who still seemed to be awkwardly nervous. 

"It is." Optimus confirmed before spending a moment to think about his next response, "I want to assure you that I have no intentions of returning you to Megatron but also it would be extremely demoralizing if I did not give you the choice between staying or returning." Optimus paused, but spoke again before Starscream could reply, "I apologize, I made the assumption when I shouldn't have." Optimus seemed to jump to his own conclusions, apologizing faster than he could really get the words out. He felt remorseful. An expression that Starscream failed to immediately understand. 

Starscream had his own feelings in the face of understanding why Optimus was defending him. In one servo, he felt that he didn't deserve his kindness, that his extension of care was unprecedented. As besides his brothers and previously Skyfire, he was led to believe that no one would put forth the effort to care about him again, not like they do/did. In the other servo, he felt immense relief. Thankful that he wasn't being forced to return to Megatron under the pretenses of information or exploitation. Thankful that he was given a choice. 

Optimus felt uncomfortable with Starscreams silence and shifted again in his seat. The seeker was unbashfully staring at the leader, unsure what to make of this, "Please say something." Optimus mumbled quietly, as if slightly embarrassed by the train of events. Starscream fixed himself out of his thought process before opening his intake to start speaking. 

It was cut short when the base suddenly shook with a violent tremor, as if an earthquake was happening. Both Starscream and Optimus knew better to assume that a natural event was happening. It seemed almost coincidental that something would happen after the call with Megatron. The warlord was never one to be patient, let alone methodical in his approach. 

Optimus stood quickly and left his office with Starscream following in his pede-steps. He quickly approached the console while some other Autobots came rushing in to investigate the issue. They were all confused, concerned, and on alert, partially surrounding the Autobot leader who seemed to fluently control the digital console with ease. Starscream stepped away from the commotion when it became crowded too quickly. He let them take the reigns over what was happening. He didn't want to get involved, especially if comes to actually be Megatron. 

He wished his intuition wasn't right when the warlord's face came across the console with a gleam in his red optics, "Hear this, Autobots!" His voice was booming, reminding Starscream of the times where he used the verbal oppression to coax what he wanted from his men, specifically him. It made him anxious, but he was really the only one who knew what that tone meant. Megatron had some form of upper hand. It only made sense considering that Megatron was almost never outwardly confident like this unless he had some sort of trick up his sleeve.

"Return my second to me, or this human will pay the price for your transgressions." Megatron announced, his tone threatening as he lifted the human in his servos, looking so meager in his grasp. While Starscream didn't immediately recognize the human, Optimus and the others did and their expressions hardened into wary looks. The human in question was William Fowler, a government agent who had assisted in getting their current base while also containing the secret of their race to the rest of the world.

His position and life were in jeopardy, all of which negatively impacted the future of the Autobots. 

“Tick tock, Prime.” Megatron goaded mockingly while clawed digits held tightly around Fowlers unconscious body. Optimus felt almost helpless in this situation. 

He didn’t want to return Starscream, and even more so as he knew the trade-off was unjustly. While he valued Fowlers life and wanted to protect him, he was just giving up Starscream’s life as well. He was pulling himself back to square one and he glanced back at the seeker, who had been watching from the sidelines. 

“Starscream. I require your input.” He ordered, anxiously tapping against the console as if it would make a difference to his riled up circuitry. Starscream looked at the Autobot leader with a slight look, servo coming to his own face and covering his mouth from being seen, “He won’t back down.” Starscream pointed out, motioning with his servo towards the console, “Whatever contingency plan you decide on creating, will not work against him unless a miracle happens.” He remarked. 

“So what’s your idea then, smart aft?” Arcees grating voice intervened in the conversation and Starscream ignored her stare.

“Hand me over.” Starscream stated, staring at Optimus who flashed a look of surprise and then sympathy, “I can’t do that, Starscream.” But the seeker refused to listen, “You have my brothers, keep them here. Turn me in and you’ll have that human back. I can… I can make up a plan. You just have to trust me.” Starscream’s determination was sudden, and in his own rights he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know why he was doing or saying anything. His brothers would hate him.

He was scared. 

“This is all I’m asking from you, please.” Starscream felt pathetic pleading, pleading to trade his life for another. He was weak, but he was smart. Megatron was daft, he knew how to navigate him than anyone else. He could do something, come up with something.

Optimus took what seemed like minutes to decide on what to do, to decide on taking Starscream’s suggestion, when he finally spoke, “Okay, Starscream. I trust you.”

Chapter Text

Megatron’s glee was very apparent when Optimus reluctantly agreed to his terms. Since having been trying to get the Prime to hand over his second in command for about two earth weeks, most attempts were to no avail. If he had known all he had to do was threaten a puny humans life, he would’ve done so earlier.

He knew that Optimus was soft-sparked when it came to the organics, but it was specific to certain humans and certain conditions which is why he was skeptical of this plan when Soundwave found the human. 

William Fowler was researched to be the liaison officer between the humans and the Autobots. When this was relayed to him from Soundwave, Megatron had finally felt like he had a chance at redemption. 

Initially his plan was to infiltrate the base and take what was rightfully his. His legacy and his seeker. But Soundwave was the one who introduced a different idea to him, and while he didn’t question his communications officer, he wasn’t exactly excited to execute such a plan without a solid success rate. The human was finicky, loud mouthed and put up a fight until the leader got fed up and made sure the human could be quiet, at least until the time to create a negotiation was imminent. He didn’t feel like the plan could work well without a failsafe, especially with the human now in their custody. But he trusted Soundwaves judgement on the matter.

Significant praise was in order for Soundwave now that Optimus anxiously stood outside the concealed base with the seekers arm in his servo. At first, Megatron believed that there might be some sort of ambush planned, but the way that the Autobot leader was looking at them, he knew that Optimus held no glorious plans like that. At least not that he could perceive.

Starscream—although cooperative with Optimus—was resentful, not towards the Autobot leader but to Megatron. His gaze was transfixed on Megatron with unwavering resolution. The sight angered the warlord. The seeker should be shaking, or even begging the Decepticon leader to return and yet Starscream remained mostly silent. As if he had finalized the fact that he didn’t want to be on the Decepticon side. Megatron was determined to change that, now that there was a sparkling in the mix.

“Dont be an aft and return the human to him. You’ve gotten what you wanted.” Starscream’s bitter words dragged Megatron from his thoughts and he visibly sneered. The seeker was in front of him now, cuffs free from his wrists, but it still didn’t make Starscream any less dangerous. 

The perfect decepticon.

Optimus held back, watching from a decent distance. His expression was unreadable behind the battle mask, but his EM field gave away his worry, both for Fowler and Starscream. Starscream chose to ignore Optimus and focused his attention on Fowler and Megatron instead.

Megatron, reluctant but compliant, released the human who had finally awoke during the commotion. He dropped Fowler, the government agent hitting the ground like a bag of bricks. Fowler huffed with the impact, taking a moment to get up and grumbling about the, “More than aggressive hospitality”. It reminded Starscream of just how fragile the humans were, reinstating the knowledge that Megatron knew exactly what he was doing. He could’ve killed Fowler in front of Optimus and taken Starscream for himself. But he didn’t.

The act of malicious compliance on its own was at least a bit of a good thing, even if Megatron was being very aggressive and disagreeable. 

Starscream watched as Fowler managed to return to Optimus with a limp. When each sides were exchanged, Starscream stared at the Autobot leader with artificial indifference. He put on a face, only to please the warlord considering he was in pouncing range now. He was thinking for two now, instead of one, and Starscream became aware of how much he wanted to live. 

He was doing this for himself. For the bitling.

Optimus stared back, still worried but carefully turned his back to return to the base with Fowler. Even as Megatron and Starscream left through the ground bridge, Optimus couldn’t help but look back. Hoping the outcome would’ve been different.

Arcee was the first to cheer with the former SIC’s absence as Optimus returned with Fowler. She was quite open about her opinion on Starscream but even with Thundercracker and Skywarp still in attendance to the Autobots, she held nothing back when their leader returned. 

Optimus on the other hand accepted the glares that Starscream’s brothers shot towards him. It was expected for them to hate him, to blame him. Optimus would never remedy that, but Starscream—although untrustworthy—was quite adamant on being trusted in this instance and Optimus couldn’t refuse, he felt that Starscream had strong ideations for redemption and there were moments where he saw himself in him. He knew that Starscream had some form of contingency plan. He just had to believe.

“My brothers will be upset. It is best to ignore them as best as you can.” Starscream mumbled to him when they got a moment alone. The seeker was still putting a physical distance between them. Starscream’s optics were focused on the console, Megatron’s face still displayed, Fowler in his servos, unconscious and one squeeze away from dying. The image was jarring to both of them, especially Starscream now that he was on the other side. 

Optimus could see that Starscream was almost mortified of the image of the warlord, seemingly scared of him. The seekers wings vibrated slightly before they stiffened when he noticed the Autobot leader looking at him, “You don’t have to do this, Starscream.” Optimus reasoned, gently placing a servo against his shoulder. Starscream tensed and rolled his shoulder to make Optimus let go of him and the Prime complied. 

“No, it’s necessary.” Starscream responded, arms crossing in a defensive stance, “I need to do this for them,” He referenced his brothers who were none the wiser of the decision he just made. They would hate him, maybe even try to smite him. But he held his helm up and snarled openly. 

Optimus didn’t chide him for it, “You will keep our frequency, yes?” He asked, hopeful that the seeker will make the right choice when it came to this incident. Starscream spent a moment thinking before replying, “I will have to hide it somehow, maybe encrypt it. He will become suspicious.” Optimus understood, it was too ambitious to think that it would be safe to keep his frequency.

“Then take mine,” A voice interrupted, mellow and warm. Starscream knew the voice anywhere and he hated that he had missed it. Skyfire’s interjection was unexpected to both of them but Optimus seemed more welcoming to the shuttles presence than Starscream, “If Megatron knows Optimus’ frequency then take mine and encrypt it. He won’t know and I can be the communication between you and Optimus.” Skyfire’s argument held logic behind it, as it always did. Which made Starscream vent and hold his EM field tighter to his frame. He stared at the shuttle with an expression of a half-assed glare and a tired frown. 

“You don’t know what you are getting yourself into,” Starscream remarked coldly but Skyfire still pushed, “I know exactly what I’m getting into.” Skyfire backed with some poignancy and Starscream scoffed in disbelief before his servo came to his face plate and dragged it against his cheek. He felt so exasperated and Optimus would never understand the history that Starscream and Skyfire had. The leader was lost from whatever chemistry that had manifested between the two. 

“I’ll take care of your brothers, take my frequency and commune with me, again. You’re a neutral amongst the Autobots which also applies to the Decepticons. I’m not going to take no for an answer Starscream. You’ve finally made the leap and now you need to prove that you’re going keep moving forward.” Skyfire reasoned, watching Starscream navigate through the inner turmoil that was his processor. He, at least, knew that a trustworthy mech would be handling his brothers with care. It was too good to pass up, as much as he didn’t want to talk with Skyfire, especially this early.

“Fine, but don’t think you win this one.” Starscream accepted begrudgingly and Skyfire showed him a gentle smile, “I wouldn’t think of it.” The shuttle indulged him and Starscream’s wings hiked in embarrassment before he quickly turned away and set his nerves straight. Optimus, oblivious to what transgressed between the two, seemed to nod at Skyfire’s earlier statement, “Then it’s settled.”

Starscream was none the happier but felt partially relieved and glanced back at Skyfire even as he was walked out with Optimus.

Ratchet stalked over to the leader with an apprehensive expression, “How did it go?” He asked, even though he knew the result. Starscream’s absence was its own answer. Optimus refused to look at Ratchet and focused his attention on the console that was now mainly showing the map of Nevada. It was pitiful. 

Eventually the leader responded, “As well as I expected. Disappointing.” Optimus admitted, glancing at Ratchet. The medic gave him an empathetic look, “I know, it’s concerning. He will be alright. He’s strong.” Ratchets assurances did not comfort him and Optimus just vented heavily. He shifted in his seat and assumed his role by the console. Attempting to busy himself from his tumultuous mind.

At the entrance, Jack, Rafael and Miko came running from a dark SUV that had just driven in. Jacks mother, June, had driven them there and she was the last to get out of the car when the kids managed to catch their breaths. 

“What happened? We heard something happened.” Jack hurriedly asked, glancing between Arcee and Optimus expecting an answer. Optimus refused to look at the children and their presence only made his growing personal frustrations worse. 

Arcee leaned against the wall as she looked towards to the two seeker brothers who were standing on one side of the control room, glares constant and never leaving their expressions. This was the angriest they have ever been, as far as they’ve seen them. 

“He’s gone.” Thundercracker interjected, which tore the kids faces from Optimus to the blue seeker, “You’re leader pawned off our brother to his abuser for the human.” TC motioned angrily to Fowler who was being seen by a on-site human medic. June also took her time to look him over, using her knowledge as a nurse to assist as much as she could. 

Arcee scoffed, “Pawned off? Hardly what happened. Your ‘brother’ made that decision for himself.” She argued, getting off the wall just make her own ground, “That human is considered our lifeline for our base and our existence to the human race. He is arguably as important as that treacherous brother of yours, if not more.” Every statement made both the seekers get more progressive reactive and agitated. Their wings hiked with their emotional status’ and Skyfire stepped in front of them to make sure they didn’t make any regrettable decisions.

“I told him I would take care of you both. We can talk about this later but you both need to calm down.” Skyfire coaxed as he prevented them from taking any steps towards Arcee, who was smirking their way. 

TC and Warp reluctantly followed through with Skyfire’s orders, even though they didn’t want to comply, and left when they were motioned back their shared quarters. Skyfire watched them meander through the hall before the shuttle turned to look at Arcee, “My statement also applies to you, Arcee. You need to calm down. Provoking them will only make matters worse.” He scolded and had no reaction when Arcee scoffed and turned her gaze away. 

“How else will they learn to get used to how these things work? Not every bot will like them.” She argued and Skyfires frown deepened, “You don’t believe they already know that? Prowl, Bulkhead and yourself have shown your ignorance to their situation on multiple occasions. And might I remind you, you become as agitated as they are at provocation. I’d recommend toning down the hypocrisy.” Skyfire felt his nerves activate from even engaging with Arcee due to her behavior. Prowl and Bulkhead said nothing even with their attendance in the admidst this conversation. No one dare bud in.

Optimus stood abruptly before shuffling past the bots that had surrounded the control room to move back to his room, ignoring the glances that were thrown his way. Ratchet watched him the entire way before looking towards Skyfire and Arcee, “I would suggest not creating anymore issues than there already is. Optimus is strong but there are some things he can’t handle.” He remarked to the both of them, Skyfire simply nodded while Arcee crossed her arms and looked away.

“You’re all dismissed, I will handle things from here with Prowl.” Ratchet waved his servo for them to leave while Prowl approached from the side to take hold of the console in Optimus’ absence. Ratchet felt about nervous as Optimus about the entire ordeal. If things go correctly then Starscream should be fine. But if they don’t, Starscream and the sparkling were at risk. 

Ratchet just hoped that whatever Starscream had planned would go well. 

Servos. 

Megatron’s servos gripped his arms like a lifeline and he hated every moment of it. He felt like a possession, dragged back to square one and any sort of emotional barrier he had placed up to combat Megatron’s invasive prodding was crumbling yet again. Like a cycle on repeat. A bird trapped in a cage.

He just wished the bitling was separated from his body so it wasn’t forced to watch their carrier deal with the mess of its sire. But no, it flipped in his spark chamber, happy to be close to him. Blissfully unaware of the distress he was in and what he had to deal with.

Digits gripped his mandible and dented the plating with how hard the warlord was squeezing and he wished the leader ceased his actions as the metal pressed against his lip, “How dare you.” Megatron hissed with undeniable venom, pressing the seeker against the wall with a force that Starscream didn’t miss. 

Deja vu flooded Starscream’s senses and he felt like he was back in Megatron’s quarters again, forced to undergo the same inflictions, “Please don’t! Not again..!” Starscream wailed behind Megatron’s servo, biting his lip due to the dented plating.

“Oh no, I won’t. I suppose you’re lucky. If there wasn’t someone worth of value to me in that useless frame, I would’ve killed you already for your treachery.” Megatron’s words felt like a stab to the chest, and his lines ran cold. 

No, no, no. How? 

How did he know?

Why? 

He won’t take you away from me. I won’t let him. 

Dermas sunk into the mesh of his servo, an impulsive decision, and Megatron hissed and pulled away with the sudden sensation. Energon trickled onto Starscream’s lip, coating his dermas. He wiped it away from his mouth, disgusted by the taste of Megatron’s blood, it was tainted with Dark Energon, rancid in design. Revealing a much sinister aspect to Megatron’s psychotic mind.

For a moment, Starscream felt proud of the look that flashed across Megatron’s face with his sudden attack until another beating ensued. Harsher than his normal, but not enough to kill him or harm the sparkling physically. Every punch and kick from Megatron was met with unruly fighting in response, Starscream clawed at every piece of the warlord in hopes of achieving some form of revenge against him. It worked for the first couple of times, injuries gouged into the mesh on Megatron’s neck and arms, fitting between the grooves. 

Even as Megatron growled and hissed words of disembodied praise that were sarcastic, it was clear that the Decepticon leader was in some minute pain, no matter how small.  

Starscream’s distress was evident with every passing moment, shared to the second spark unintentionally, and tank churning with every bout of nausea that overwhelmed him. When Megatron was done, he was covered in the seekers blood and tears. Gleefully happy with his destruction of the seekers pride yet again.

The pain was more bearable than the strong feelings of dizziness that came with the nausea. Even as he spit out the Energon that pooled in his mouth, he willed himself to keep himself from throwing up. 

Megatron was meticulous with his hits. Deliberately giving injuries where they would cause annoyance over long periods of time. His vocalizer strained with the indented mesh of his neck and he wailed into the ground while his wings failed to move with his directive. The connecting joint between his back and the limbs strained to an impossible angle creating an almost constant ache. 

“Double cross me again, Starscream. You will regret living.” Megatron growled as his servo clamped down on his left wing, denting the plating. He dragged the seeker to the brig, all the while Starscream wailed more as his wings pulsed with pain and he struggled against the leader. Servos pulling at the warlords wrist an attempts for freedom and release.

“M..a.s..ter..   ple..ase..” Static came across every syllable that he spoke and the noises that came from his vocalizer from his aches of pain were crackly and sickly sounding. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe.

Megatron had no ounce of patience as he dragged the red seeker to the brig where he planned on keeping him for the entirety of his stay. For the entirety of his emergence. 

“I will have Knockout come take a look at you and my child. If you do anything to it, I will personally extinguish that spark of yours. Do you understand?” Megatron’s questions would go unanswered as he threw Starscream into the brig and energized the bars when he felt that Starscream was situated. 

Starscream felt disgusted, he was disgusted that Megatron knew, and had the audacity to claim the child when he had no rights to it for his conduct. He wished he was back on Cybertron, he wished could give the sparkling a better life than this one.

He won’t have you. I won’t allow it.

As he walked away, he didn’t see that glare that glanced his way as he left the seeker to his own devices. Uncaring of how Starscream was in pain and exhausted from fighting. He called for Knockouts assistance.

Knockout felt like he might’ve been having a nightmare when he saw Starscream in the brig, beaten and bloody but functional. Feelings of regret flooded back to the medic and he almost debated on leaving. But Starscream needed help and his moral code screamed at him to get him help. 

He hadn’t seen Starscream since the defection, the seeker at the time had been training the aerial units with a brash presence. He used to be confident and defiant, a trait that Knockout admired, but now he was staring at a mech who had been through much more than war. A mech who had been mentally and physically destroyed. 

“Starscream.” Knockout greeted cautiously when he approached the energized bars of the holding cell. He was curled up, having nestled himself close to the birth, wings crooked and unable to move without pain. Starscream looked his way when he called his name, expression unreadable besides the pain that was clearly evident from his injuries.

“Primus. I’m… I’m sorry.” Knockout hurriedly said as he opened the cells door and walked over to him with a trauma kit. He felt at that he did this, Starscream’s condition was because he had told Megatron about the sparkling. He felt like he had done everything wrong, “This is my fault. I…” His servos shook as he kneeled near the seeker who hadn’t said anything since he entered. Servos still shaking, hovered, unsure what to start working on. Every part of the seeker was touched by Megatron’s hands and he felt even more nervous with Starscream staring at him.

“Yo..ur  fau..lt..?” Static left the vocalizer with a loud buzz and Knockout winced, pointing that out as his first project for him to work on. Starscreams expression didn’t change from its pained appearance even as Knockout started focusing on his neck lining.

He didn’t want to continue but Starscream kept staring at him, prying him to say more and he reluctantly did, “I was the one.. who told him about the sparkling…” Knockout vented with a regretful tone. Starscream seemed to go through a mix of emotions, Knockout could feel the tightly held EM field becoming a turmoil of emotions before Starscream seemed to settle on anger but not at him, ultimately understanding where Knockout was coming from and what his position was at the time. 

Starscream was tired, tired of being angry at bots he once knew. Knockout was more than likely in a position that could get himself killed or worse if he denied Megatron. Which is why Starscream felt empathetic for the red medic as he basically weeped in front of him. Coolant tears silently falling on the face of Knockout who normally didn’t allow himself the courtesy. Even as the medic worked, he cried, cried for Starscream and for his own failure.

Decepticons don’t cry. Crying is—.. was weakness. But on the more than one occasion Starscream had wept and seeing in this moment Knockout cry, over a misconstrued situation, felt validating in his own way. They still had feelings.

“Don’t.. blame…” Static still followed every word and Starscream felt like a mechling with the limited vocabulary that he was graced with to endure and adapt to. 

I don’t blame you.

Don’t blame yourself.

Those were sentences that portrayed what he wanted to say but couldn’t and it seemed that whatever phrase that Knockout acknowledged with his attempted portrayal was enough to get the medic working a bit more intricately. It seemed to have calmed him down a bit as well, not as emotionally vulnerable as he was moments ago. All the while, Starscream’s neck was getting better and his vocalizer didn’t feel as constricted. 

Knockout cleared the coolant from his optics and focused his attention on parts of Starscream’s frame that was broken or torn from Megatron’s aggression and although the cockpit was mostly untouched, Knockout was concerned that the other injuries littering the seekers frame may have caused some other issues.

“Will you open your spark chamber? I need to see it, to see if anything has changed. Even if it’s small.” Knockouts words were more of a mumble, concerned about the invasiveness of the question. Starscream was reluctant to comply but was also worried about the status of the sparkling now that Knockout was prying. It had been at least a couple of breems since he was last checked up on. He didn’t know what was going to happen from now on. 

Although slowly, Starscream opened his spark chamber to allow Knockout to see the little light. The sparkling had become much larger since he had last seen it, about a quarter of the size of his own spark. It reacted to the cold air of the brig and another bout of nausea flooded his senses but Starscream was quick to suppress it.

Knockout used a scanner to track the progress on emergence and smiled slightly at the status return. The sparkling was unaffected or at most partially distressed by the injuries to its carrier. Whatever Starscream felt was transferred to the seekerling and it was clear due to Starscream’s reactions, “It’s healthy, a little upset but will be fine. If you’re interested, you are at the mark in your progress where there is way to know if it’s a femme or a mech. If you want to know, that is.”

Starscream felt some surprise at the offer, forgetting entirely that the shared spark was either to be a femme or mech. He hadn’t come this far before, and it slipped his processor entirely. He nodded with Knockout’s offer and the medic smiled at him before scanning the spark chamber again. 

The return was a bunch of fluctuations, waves of information and code that Starscream couldn’t understand. He knew that sparklings had specific coding to decide the primary frame type, the protoform being the basic start to all beginnings. Knockout could read it just fine, and through that jumble of information, he read out the transcript, “It’s a pretty decent percent that the little spark is going to be a femme.” Knockout stated as he showed Starscream the monitor of the scanner as if the seeker understood the lines of medical jargon. 

A femme. A daughter. 

It had been quite a bit of time since he’d seen a female seeker and the fact that he was going to be birthing one seemed surreal to him. The sparkling was his daughter, but it wasn’t just his but Megatron’s. The thought only brought a sour taste to his mouth. Megatron didn’t deserve any sort of legacy or creation. He didn’t deserve her.

When the spark chamber closed after Knockout was finished, Starscream placed both of his servos to his own chassis, holding them there and feeling the second spark deliberately. He wanted to hold her but he couldn’t. 

Just a little longer.

Her existence pushed him to make a plan to get away. He needed to go back to the Autobots. He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t give birth to this child on the Nemesis. Not near Megatron. Never near Megatron.

Knockout continued to work on him to the best of his abilities. Intricately working in silence and Starscream let him. In fact the seeker stared at the red medic as thoughts rolled through his processor. He could have a way out, he just needed assistance. The solution was sitting right next to him.

Knockout and Breakdown were always quite questionable to the Decepticon cause, after Hooks demise Knockout was mostly appointed due to his basic medical background. Even if it was clear that Knockout was no Hook, Knockout still got the job done which is why he was kept around. He was the only medic. The only bot that could fix mostly everything. 

Knockouts personality was a bonus to a certain extent, although Starscream hated the prying that Knockout often engaged in doing, Knockout was at least trustworthy in the factor that he knew that Megatron was not in the right mind for leadership. And anything that Knockout felt or thought normally was also reciprocated by Breakdown. 

If Starscream could convince Knockout to help him escape, he could offer them to defect as well. Help them leave, for good. Help them live. And love.

“Is there something on my face?” Knockouts question was more of an icebreaker than an actual question. Starscream had been staring for quite a while, clearly stuck in a thought process. 

“Help me escape.” Starscream bluntly said, static was much less obvious through his vocalizer and he seemed more grounded and less in pain. Knockout halted his movements, looking at him and taking in what he just said, feeling confused. He felt like he had misheard something entirely. 

“What?” Knockout asked, staring back at the dulled red optics of Starscream who did not break his gaze from the medic. 

“Help me escape.”

Please.

Chapter Text

Knockout thought he was hallucinating when he heard the words leave Starscream’s intake. He stared at the seeker as if he grew a second head, as if Starscream’s idea was horrible, and by popular belief it was. The seeker gave him a expectant look and Knockout couldn't help but give him an unimpressed look as a result. The difference in Starscreams ambitions had changed and nothing felt more stranger than the seeker asking for help. It wasn't something that Starscream was known for.

Help him? Escape? Was that even possible? 

Megatron would kill them both, and would spare no mercy at that. As far as everyone knew, leading up to this exchange, Starscream was his prized possession. A mech that he wanted to control and enslave for his personal gain. He wanted a servant, not a soldier. A thought that was psychotic on its own. But with Knockouts knowledge of the sparkling currently growing in the seekers frame, it was possible that Megatron simply wanted the child and rather saw Starscream as an incubation frame for his sick mindset.

A thought he had voiced to Breakdown on certain instances when the topic came up occasionally.

Knockout felt deprived of his normal forms of relaxation, besides the usual fragging, he hadn’t been able to see a movie at a drive-in theatre or street race around Jasper. Interests were becoming scarce and with the dwindling sanity of their leader, Knockout and Breakdown were already thinking of leaving. But medic morality always pulled him back in, it was his one and only role. What would the Decepticons do without their medic? He didn’t know and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out. 

“Help you escape? Are you insane?” Knockout almost laughed at the idea, believing it might be some sort of wistful prank. A part of him had believed that the seekers presence would return the warlord back to normal but it hadn’t and arguably made him worse. He had hoped that Starscream would assume his role as SIC again. Take over Soundwaves assumed position in his place, but that didn't happen, instead the seeker was sat to rot in the brig for an extended time.

Everything was suffering without Starscream and most refused to acknowledge it either due to pride or their simple hatred towards the former SIC.

Even now, Starscream wasn’t laughing at his question of insanity, in fact his expression was still quite serious. He shifted under Knockout’s gaze and his optics rolled to one side, staring at the bars of his enclosure while Knockout began working on his wings. The first languid touch made Starscream flick his wing towards him but he relaxed after a moment when Knockout continued the action. He focused on the struts, ironing them out while he let Starscream stew in his thoughts for a moment.

“It’s not a joke.” Starscream finally said, vocalizer returning to mostly eighty percent functionality. A feat that made Knockout feel proud to have rejuvenated it to its former status. A part of him had missed the scratchy vocals of Starscreams banter and pride, the other part hated the grating sound, although most of it was never of Starscream's pure intention. Knockout had heard rumors, small stories of how Starscream's voice came to be and how it was before it was seemingly destroyed. Rumors, thats all they were.

“I didn’t say it was, I just find it hard to believe. The past version of you would be brimming with disbelief at a statement like that.” Knockout teased, attempting to find light heartedness in the midst of the tension that threatened to swallow them both whole. He felt like their relationship was in question for a while, ever since Starscream and his trine had left there was a void that was not acknowledged to any degree and bots continued to ignore it, Knockout himself included. He sat in the medical bay for cycles on end, feeling guilty for not providing Starscream the help he needed.

Starscream didn’t answer to his blatant statement, though it held truth, instead opting to stare at the bars as if they’d melt spontaneously. There were so many things he wanted to do but not enough power to ignite them. Knockout looked at him after his silence settled in and found his own realization to be correct, “You are serious about this, aren’t you?” He asked as he focused on the plating on his wings. Starscream glanced at him with a look of mild disappointment, upset that he wasn't being believed. 

“Of course I am. I don’t want to stay here. Not with my sparkling potentially in danger of that insane tyrant.” Starscream motioned in front of him as if the warlord was there, when he wasn’t. The good sign was that at least Starscream was acknowledging the newspark as his, rather than Megatrons. Knockout vented a bit as he touched the broken mesh under the plating. He grabbed a cauterizer to close it up while Starscream dug a irritated glance into the red medics face.

Starscream winced with the assistance, reminding himself that no amount of pain blockers would null the pain. No matter how much he wanted it to go away. Knockout spent the next few moments in silence working diligently. To Starscream, it felt strange to even be in a quiet room with Knockout present, normally the racer would spout whatever came to mind but nonetheless, Starscream appreciated Knockouts due diligence to make sure he was back to functionality. Even if it was mainly out of guilt.

“I understand, a least a bit now. Though I wish you would’ve told me.” Knockouts statement was vague and Starscream had barely an inkling of understanding about what he was talking about. At first he didn't say anything before asking the question that would cement his suspicions. 

“Are you talking about the first attack?” Starscream asked and Knockout nodded with his question while he continued to work, moving on to his wings. Starscream looked to anything but to Knockout now, contemplating on whether or not to elaborate for him. KO didn’t mind, the former SIC had gone through a lot and silence between the two of them was a given due to the situation. In fact, Knockout didn't think that Starscream would explain it at all.

Starscream spent moments in the tumultuous mind of his own. He didn’t want to talk about the first attack, he didn’t want to tell him anything. Even now as he hissed and winced with every pull and prod from Knockout, he didn’t feel ready to speak on anything about it. Instead he opted for, “It was… a lot, Knockout. And I didn’t know. I didn’t know that.. she.. was the result of it.”

Starscream’s admittance was enough for Knockout to stop again and look at the seeker with a look of surprise before it was overtaken by sympathy. Knockout, for some reason, was under the impression that Starscream knew—the signs were there—but at the same time Starscream had gone through so many frame reconfigurations and had subjected himself to military operations since he was basically a mechling, he didn’t know or never knew that he was a carrier frame and seemingly never looked into it, having dedicated himself to Megatron during the early reign.

The only mech he had merged with once before was Skyfire and even that endeavor didn’t lead to a newspark, but only because Skyfire was precarious and cautious. Willing to please and be pleased. He didn’t go against Starscream’s wishes like Megatron did, who was unbashfully responsible and fully aware of his actions. The reminder only making Starscream feel disgusted.

The more the thought seared into Starscream’s processor, the more he understood that Megatron had done it maliciously, with the intention of an heir. Whether it was due to insanity itself from the consumption of Dark Energon or it was a direct decision under an able processor. Either being possible. Megatron was once a normal mech. That much Starscream could acknowledge, whatever this amalgamation was, was not the gladiator that Starscream met during his reign under council. Optimus was right, he always has been. 

“I will help you.” Knockout said, after a couple of kliks of silence, “I will help you escape.” Knockout repeated, taking Starscream’s servo into his to capture his attention. Starscream wanted to pull away, any touch felt like fire to him and he wanted to scream. If he could've help it, he would never let a mech touch him again. But he held his dignity, he knew that Knockout meant well and had no intentions of harming him. Still, parts of his processor considered every flicker of touch a threat. It was going to take some time to rewire that issue.

“Clearly, the Autobots are better fitting for you, commander.” Knockout smiled at him, using his once powerful title again. It sparked a small moment of confidence, selfish joy in the seeker. He longed to be a commander again, to be in a position of power, to lead and become a symbol. The gesture was so uplifting to the seeker that for a second, Knockout thought he felt Starscream holding his servo back. 

“What?” Jazz asked in disbelief. It was like he just heard that his favorite human actress just got assassinated during their debut on the show and he was in the front row seat. It wasn't despair but more confusion. Unfortunately for him, this was a very real, and very difficult situation.

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose, another mech testing his patience, “Do I need to repeat myself again?” He asked and Jazz intervened, servos up in a motion to stop him, “No!… No. I’m just… in shock honestly.” He felt like his helm was on a spin top. He was Special Operations, not Rescue-A-Sparkling-And-Former-Decepticon Operations. 

Jazz was trying to make sense of it, through humor, as usual. But he couldn’t find the right punchline so now he was just stuck in a nasty gutter with a bit of disappointment hanging in his EM field. Personally, he had no issues with Screamer besides the basic disdain for Decepticons in general. Sure, he was a Second-In-Command with the Decepticons, at least former according to Optimus. But Screamer had no direct issues with anyone since joining besides Arcee and sometimes Bulkhead when the big ton of lubber decided to speak his peace.

Everyone had their opinions; Jazz’s? He didn’t really have a basis on it. You don’t know the full history, you don’t comment on what you don’t know. It’s the reason why he tried to steer away from Prowl’s visions even if they seemed contradictory or ruthless in their own right. But he couldn’t help himself, Prowl was attractive in his own right even though they were polar opposites.

“Are you even listening?” Ratchets voice cut through the blatant sodomy that Jazz envisioned in his processor. The Spec Op leaned back in his chair, cooling his vents before speaking, “Totally, doc, truly.” Jazz’s insouciance earned him a whack on the head from a familiar wrench. 

Jazz groaned with the non-welcoming ache in his helm now, “You picked the smaller one today I see,” He razzed and Ratchet waved it at him again prompting Jazz to put his servos up in defense, “Okay, okay! I yield, I yield, you crazy bot!” He yelled and Ratchet put the wrench down, for now. 

Jazz relaxed and repositioned himself in his seat, “I don’t understand. If this sparkling was so important, why did we allow the exchange to happen?” Many questions were being left unanswered and Jazz had a hard time understanding how the exchange couldn’t have been prevented. 

“Soundwave over-sought the entire operation. We had Bumblebee do some scouting outside the initial meeting area when Megatron sprung the situation. Soundwave had units set up just out of sight in case things went awry. If we had attempted an ambush or any sort of offensive operation to prevent it from happening, we would’ve been overwhelmed.” Ratchet explained and Jazz took in all the information with a curious glance, “Starscream knew all of this and still opted to take the risk of being released to Megatron.” 

“Knowing that Megatron would become more than likely violent again?” Jazz asked and Ratchet nodded, “He theorized that because of the existence of the newspark, it was possible that Megatron wouldn’t immediately kill him. But I’m not sure how comfortable he would feel telling that information to Megatron.” Ratchet explained with a vent. He looked at the console, hoping something might come up but nothing did. 

For the past couple of breems, there was nothing from the Decepticons. No movement or sightings. It was nervewracking. But they were moving again, this time with just vehicons and nothing more. 

“It’s a death sentence, if Megatron knows about the sparkling, this might change the war for a completely different reason.” Jazz stated as he glanced between Ratchet and the console. Ratchet looked back at him again, “I know.” 

“Does Prowl know?” Jazz asked, it felt like something was off. Ratchet had told him about the Starscream, about the sparkling, about its sire. But the way Ratch went about it made Jazz feel like this was some form of secret, kept between certain mechs. 

“No, no he doesn’t. And truthfully, because of his conduct, I don’t think he should know,” Ratchets brutal honesty caught Jazz off guard. He knew Prowl could be objective when it came to others and what he thought was right. Hell, he had done it to him on multiple occasions. He budded heads with the strategist like they were in a boxing match, it was not new. But, Ratchets thought process made him believe that they believed that Prowl was thinking about it in a much more sinister light and while Jazz could see it potentially happening—especially considering the mech that they are talking about—he didn’t see Prowl as being capable of making such a decision like that.

“You’re talking as if he’s annouced before that he would kick a sparkling off the face of the Earth if he was given a chance. That’s not Prowl, Ratchet.” Jazz countered, disappointed and almost angered by the insults to Prowls morality. 

Ratchet shook his head now, “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying it’s a possibility. Anyway, I would suggest you keep this between us and Optimus. We are the only ones who know.” Ratchet stared at Jazz with a look of expectancy which told him as much as he needed to know. Jazz tapped his pede against the ground and shifted in his seat, he tried to push the thought of Prowl becoming a possible problem in the future but it was stuck in his processor. 

Prowl could be problematic at times, but to forsake a sparkling on the basis of its carrier? It was not entirely unheard of, especially in the horrors of war but for Jazz it was hard to envision any of the Autobots doing that. Especially Prowl.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep it under wraps.” Jazz muttered, unsure in his own thought process. Ratchet just nodded, “Better. I’d rather not stress out Optimus more than needed.” Jazz simply stood and left, needing to clear his processor.

Optimus felt many things; confliction, concern, disappointment, but most of all disgust. The events that transpired seered into the Autobot leaders cortex with a flash of indignity. Megatron's excitement, willful maliciousness and his possessiveness being displayed while he handed Starscream over was disgustingly palpible and he hated every second of it. He wished everything was different, he had wished he had done things differently. 

What’s done was done, though every ounce of his frame wished for things to have changed. As if they could in the seconds that he sat there. 

While Optimus procrastinated; disturbed and overwhelmed, Ratchets unsurprising intrusion into his office was unwelcome but he didn’t have the spark to ask the medic to leave him alone, “I notified Jazz,” Was the first words out of Ratchets intake and Optimus felt even more weight put on his shoulders.

“And?” He didn’t want to hear the results of a kept secret being told to his right-hand, especially when it didn’t come from him, and telling by Ratchets facial expression he must’ve hinted as his disdain in his voice. Jazz must’ve felt perturbed and disappointed to hear it come from Ratchet and Optimus felt even deeply offended of himself for not being the one to tell him.

“He will keep it a secret. Though he wasn’t happy with my decision to keep it from Prowl.” Ratchet explained and Optimus nodded his head with his words. Partially he was comforted by the fact Jazzs irritation was more about Prowl than his inability to get ahold of himself to tell Jazz himself. 

Jazz and Prowl were like oil and water, opposites that didn’t mix but existed in the same glass. Jazz had his opinions and Prowl had his opinions, both clashing quite often. Even with their differences, Jazz held as much respect for him as much as Prowl did. It made sense to Optimus that Jazz held offense to the decision not to tell Prowl as the two coincided on multiple occasions. But Prowls behavior towards Starscream was also unacceptable and while Optimus had planned to speak with him about it, he didn’t have the chance to as Starscream took his priority with the less-than-ideal exchange. 

“It’s expected. Has Skyfire relayed any communications with Starscream yet?” Optimus felt eager to know the seekers status, with his brothers growing agitation he felt obligated to at least try and ease their worry for their trine leader, even if he was the cause of the instance. 

Ratchet shook his head with Optimus’ question and it made the leader vent, chiding his impatience on the matter. Starscream was in perpetual danger now that he was in the servos of Megatron. Ratchet gazed at the exasperated leader with a look of sympathy, “I meant to ask you how you were feeling,” Ratchet commented and Optimus looked at him, “With the tensions from the others, I believed you might’ve had some turmoil.” 

At first Optimus refused to answer, not wanting to focus on himself, what he felt right now didn’t matter and he replied as such, “I’ll be fine. This is.. frustrating, but it will pass.” Optimus partially lied but he didn’t want to be probed for another cycle. Ratchet didn’t seem convinced but accepted his answer. 

“I’ll leave you be, I will notify you if anything else changes.” Ratchet left shortly after, closing the door behind him and leaving Optimus in his silence. 

He sat there at his desk, leaning on his servo with a blank look for several moments before his fist hit the top of the desk out of sudden frustration and he stood quickly. He needed something to change. He hoped an environmental change would help, so he stepped outside his office again and left to patrol on his own.

Laserbeak watched Starscream like he was an animal in an enclosure. Knockout was gone, having determined his diagnoses and assured the seeker that he wouldn’t have an early emergence but Starscream wasn’t entirely convinced. There were too many signs to him that pointed to it, he couldn't help but be concerned for the safety of himself and the newspark. He was watching her progress more closely now that he wasn't at the Autobot base.

He felt stressed again, fearful as he once was, and it didn’t help that the closeness of the confines of the cell were making him uncomfortable. He had plenty of room to stretch his wings, comparatively it was much better than a cave-in where the tips of his wings had scraped every inch of the walls and reminded him of his claustrophobia and mania. But the space itself still did not help to make him any less comfortable, the walls dipped in and warbled, he had to offline his optics to feel an even semblance of peace. He tried to ignore it. 

Laserbeak chirped at him again for the fourth time when he sat still for too long. It was her way of knowing he was awake and still functional. Either that or she was being annoying on purpose. Both were possibilities, knowing her carrier.

It had been at least one cycle and six breems. One cycle and six breems since he had been forced into this cell. At least that's what his chronometer told him, he kept count as that was the only thing that made him feel sane. Of those six breems, there were two separate incidents with Megatron after Knockout fixed what he could. Frame wasn't as pristine as it was and he missed the feeling of being clean again. 

Megatron's visits were unwelcome and invasive. Questions about the progression kept getting brought up and mildly Megatron had asked on some occasions to see the growth of the sparkling, which Starscream reluctantly complied with. Each visit felt like a inch in the ground, digging a deeper grave to his already impending end.

It was becoming more clear to Starscream that this sparkling was outside of the norm of usual newsparks. Her progression was exceedingly faster than the normal. Just in the breems alone he felt the pain, the movement from his spark chamber to his gestational tank and the medics diagnoses were becoming wrong in assuming he wouldn’t have an early emergence. He could feel it in every fiber of his body. This sparkling was going to cause some problems in the near future, he knew it.

—0776080 : Status?

The sudden ping pulled the seeker out of his daze, he hadn’t expected to have any of his communications to be active especially with Soundwave being functional on the Nemesis. Hazed, he didn’t immediately recognize the frequency as it had been quite some time since he had used his communication frequency since becoming a neutral. 

The Autobots were adamant on suppressing any sort of external communication coming from the inside of the base, so for most of his time Starscream never touched his comms besides looking at the receiving pings. He shifted to a better sitting position across the cold ground. He felt like a mess, his frame rigid and sore. He stared at the frequency with persistent foggy confusion.

He spent a moment identifying the numbers in his helm but remembered that the frequency was encrypted and there was only one mech that it could belong to. 

Skyfire.

“Could be better.” He responded to the question with minute honesty. He felt gross, the soreness in his joints reminded him of Megatron's vice of control and Starscream had already spent his time throwing up moments earlier. He missed Skyfire. He missed his brothers.

—0776080: Did he hurt you? 

He debated on answering honestly, wondering if anything could be done about his situation. Starscream was now just waiting on Knockout to make his move and was starting to grow impatient on that escape. He wanted to go back to safety. This wasn't safety, far from it.

“You could say that.” He responded back and Laserbeak chirped again, reminding him that the cassette was still nearby. He looked towards the bird with a look of disdain but Laserbeak did not react or change her position. He scoffed and looked towards the walls again. Another ping on his HUD drew his attention but before he could read it Soundwave came into view on the other side of the bars, silent and stalking with very slight steps. 

“—Starscream.—” A replay of Megatron’s voice chortled through Soundwaves equalizer and the seeker stared at the communications officer with a glare. Soundwave was unfazed by the expression, “—You..-Have been summoned—To the bridge.” Each word and phrase sounded like a broken record, split into parts and chopped up into an edited transcript. It was a mixture of voices, ones that reminded Starscream of the mysterious mech from his stasis in limbo. 

The bars to the cell de-energized and Soundwave opened the door with a patient servo. Starscream didn’t immediately get up, intending on being uncooperative and difficult with the mech. It didn’t faze Soundwave and he moved to drag the seeker himself. A servo wrapped around Starscream’s arm and he was yanked up with a strength that nearly made him topple over. 

“Order: Cooperate.” Soundwaves equalizer spit out his own words. A fragment of the past of the Communications Officer, when he was a freshly reformatted and served with a new body. His first bout of calculated revenge was on nobodies who dared conflicted with their new leader Megatronus. 

That was a time where they were allies, when Soundwave had a bit of leeway towards Starscream’s antics. Now, they were enemies and the grip that the prior TIC had on him reiterated the realization that they were no longer friends as they once were. 

He reluctantly followed Soundwave to the bridge with dragging pedes, the servo still clamped around his pauldron with a demanding force and he was pushed to the ground when the double doors opened with a thud. The tendrils that plagued others, now plagued his vision and he was dragged across the metal ground by the arms, pedes scraping with a loud squeal.

Megatron sat idly in his throne, smug as always and Starscream had no other choice but to abide by Soundwaves direction as he was shoved to his knees and forced to kneel in front of the warlord with a snarl. The cuffs around his wrists ached with his position, held tightly behind his back and underneath the joints of his wings. He was ‘declawed’, tips of his digits ached with the missing extensions and his weapons were removed, not that he could use them away. 

“Bear witness to your treacherous commander.” Megatrons voice called out, peering to the audience in the bridge arms outstretched. Starscream became acutely aware of the army that stood around them. Vehicon seekers, grounders, and other bots he had either trained, commanded, befriended stood before him as if were to be executed in a gladiators ring. 

It may as well have been a glorified show, Megatron seemed to be gloating quite openly about the situation and the more the Decepticon leader paced, the more Starscream understood that he was to be an example to the others. He didn't bare himself to look at anyone so he looked towards the ground, Megatrons pedes in his peripherals as he walked around him.

“He has betrayed you. Abandoned you.” Megatron continued, sneering at every word. Every statement made the crew talk amongst one another. Starscream was a failure to them, to Megatron. He approached the kneeling seeker as if he was able to do much else but watch and sneer. An arm extended, servo held open but Starscream knew better, it was a motion of show. His servo came to his face, gripping his mandible and lifting it to where Starscream was forced to stare at him. And stare at him he did.

“Accept your fate, Starscream.” Megatron muttered, staring wildly at his former second with a look of deranged ambition. He wanted control. He wanted to force the seeker into submission. He wanted her. Starscream was just a tool to him.

He was never going to get control. 

Starscream spit in his face, coolant globbed and landed on the warlords face, proudly slicking a spot on his cheek, “Go fuck yourself.” Starscream hissed, wings flaring with his Earthly declaration, perhaps Miko rubbed off on him. The army's chattering became silent, unsure how to react to this public defiance. Megatron’s anger flared in his EMF and in the next moment, a slap collided with Starscream’s helm and he was pushed onto his side from the force. 

Vehicons alike that held no regard for Starscream’s position or the mech himself cheered with Megatron’s reaction. Announcing their leaders name with a proud boast. Others took no part, some bots included. They held some respect towards Starscream whereas the majority did not.

Megatron approached him again, standing tall and proud as his pede collided with his helm and pushed him further across the ground. The warlord followed where he was thrown around, pain resonating in his frame as each punch and kick was thrown meticulously. Saving the pain from the sparkling, but it didn't matter much in the long run to begin with.

Megatron made a spectacle of Starscream on the bridge, beating him again, this time in the audience of bots who seemingly did not care for the well-being of the former second-in-command. Some couldn’t handle the sight and shielded themselves away. The bots who couldn’t were tucked away near the throne, amongst them being Knockout and Breakdown. They had seen the aftermath of an attack but never been witness to the full abuse. 

The only difference now was that Starscream did not give him the satisfaction of noise. He took every injury with a silent look of fear, vocalizer offlined and unused which only seemed to anger the warlord more.

Starscream’s optics met Knockouts briefly through the chaos of the flurry of attacks. A silent cry for mercy. A silent cry for help. Still, Knockout could not help and only looked at Breakdown for assistance. BD placed his servo on Knockouts shoulder, coaxing him to try and calm down but it only made things feel more distressing.

There will be time. Not now. Not yet.

Starscream felt like he was floating again, in a place he shouldn’t be. The familiarity of the feeling of his surroundings was chilling and he felt more dread now that he was standing in the hallway leading to his room, like before, this time with fuzzy clarity. Every part of this mysterious dream was becoming more clear to him the more he 'visited' and the intricacies of the designs on the walls and floor reminded him of the palace of Vos. 

Why was he here again? 

The pain from his frame did not exist, the absence of the newspark's beating spark made him feel like something important was missing. A piece of the puzzle that needed to be placed but couldn't be found. Even reaching for his brothers in their bond had no results. He was truly isolated in a bath of gray. 

The silence that greeted him when he first woke up in this place was now being replaced with the same song, originating from his room. Warbled and barely recognizable, the lyrics held no meaning and all he could hear was the instrumental. When he entered the room again, like a nightmare on repeat, he saw the mech again. He was sitting in a different spot, on the berth in the corner of the room. The lights that were functional in that spot the last time he was there were now blackened, dark, and shrouded.

The mechs previous location was lit by a lamp and the window remained open. The chair was pristine, untouched, although a mech of that size would've destroyed its delicacy. A fact that made this all the more fiction.

"Welcome back." The mech's voice was a bit more distinct, but still sounded like a mix of multiple bots in one. His greeting sounded genuine but at the same time malicious which made Starscream stay near the entrance of his room with a look of suspicion, "Why do you keep bringing me here?"  Starscream asked, that same mellow tone coming his voice that he once had, and the mech tilted his head at him through the shadows of the corner. Barely distinguishable. 

"I don't bring you here, you find me." The mech responded precariously and Starscream could almost see a grin fitting the mechs face through the dark. The sight angered him, confusion still clouding every possible explanation as to why he was here. Every word the mech spoke was an enigma, something to be picked apart, but Starscream wasn't playing any sort of games.

"I don't believe you." Starscream stated as he watched the mech with a sharp gaze. The music was grating the more it repeated its tune and Starscream killed it, fist colliding with the mechanical box with a loud thud. Silence filled the room again, just as it did when he first arrived.

The mech wasn't perturbed, rather that grin still remained, "This place should be comforting to you." He remarked and Starscream scoffed as he looked at the room with an offensive glance, "Comforting? I was the reason why this room doesn't exist anymore. Why do you show me this?" Starscream's wings hiked with his irritation, though the feeling was dull, like he was grasping onto the emotion. 

"Would you rather me show you something you wouldn't like?"  He asked, voice fitting more to Megatron's tone but not quite to its volume, "Your mind shows you what it wants, conscious fits what you decide to see. But I have the option to shift it, show you other things." The mech explained as he stood, walking towards the window. Lights shifted and broke during his approach, like a living cloud of smog. A walking nightmare. 

He looked towards Starscream, "Our time is up. I'd recommend being mindful of the.. little one." He said, glancing down at Starscreams frame. Starscream followed his gaze and was met with the sights of the small protoform in his arms, bloody and fearfully frozen. A chill ran down his spine and he looked up to the mech being gone and he was shrouded in the darkness again with nothing but this grotesque depiction of his child.

Jazz made quick work of the systems on the console with fast digits. He combed through any sort of ping that the console picked up on radar, scrubbing through the data with more focus then he had ever used in his entire time on the force. Skyfire stood beside him, "Its been cycles, Jazz." The shuttle iterated softly and Jazz shook his head slightly, "I know, I know. I'm working on it."

Starscream hadn't responded to his most recent comm, which wasn't entirely tripping the alarm but Skyfire's insistence on the factor that Starscream's reponses had some underlying messages behind them made the shuttle stress more about it than normal. Jazz was the unfortunate recipient of said worries. 

The data pad still in hand, Skyfire looked at it again briefly, hoping something would've changed. He hoped that Starscream had said something back by now but there was still nothing back. 

Starscreams response about Megatron made Skyfire feel worried about Starscreams wellbeing, "You could say that." He had responded. Skyfire remembered asking him about the sparkling with no response and the silence that followed for cycles. With Starscream now constantly in danger, the more the cycles that passed made even Optimus become nervous. 

It had been at least six cycles since the exchange, and four cycles since Starscreams last comm. His brothers, Thundercracker and Skywarp, had become more antsy, unable to recharge or eat well since the shuttles last communication with him. Even with Skyfire assisting the seeker brothers, they were a little bit more open to his presence but were still quite adamant on wanting to retrieve Starscream themselves. They were open with their opinions, and angry too. 

"Whats the point of freedom if you are just going to trade us as soon as one of your human pets gets in trouble?!" Thundercracker had yelled, "You're as useless as they say, we should have never come here! It was a fragging mistake!" The blue seeker was a mess, just as much as Skywarp was. It took a lot of talking from Skyfire to get them to finally calm down and recharge. Skyfire had shared their sentiment, understanding that most of their anger was coming from the concern over their trine leader.

Jazz continued to work when he finally got a hit on something that was traveling fast across the radar, towards the northeast side of Nevada, "I got something," Jazz commented and Skyfire looked at the console. The ping on the console was moving far too fast for it to be any normal unit, it had to be the Nemesis, "Is it—?" Skyfire started and Jazz motioned with his hand, "The Nemesis? Yeah, I think so. We need to let Optimus know." Skyfire nodded and moved away form the console to retrieve the Autobot leader.

Optimus had been idling in his office for a couple of kliks now, trying to figure out some sort of plan to infiltrate the Nemesis since Starscream's retrieval was becoming more of a difficult task then it initially believed to be. With Starscreams silence, it made it all the more dire to retrieve him. 

Ratchet had told him about the recent re-diagnosis. After some significant studies that followed after Starscream had left, all evidence pointed to an early emergence. The newsparks progression was unusual, which felt tied to the strange color of Starscreams spark. The information about his spark wasn't immediately told to Optimus due to Starscream's request for privacy but with Starscream's growing absence, Ratchet gave it to Optimus with reluctancy. 

Now they that he knew that, he had been working on some form of extraction plan to retrieve Starscream. So far, most versions were failures or there was too many gaps in the formulated ones. 

“Optimus,” Skyfires voice cut through his focus and made the Autobot leader look up at him, “Yes, Skyfire?” He set aside the data pads in front of him and turned his attention solely to the shuttle.

“We got a read on the Nemesis’ location. Jazz is tracking it now.” Skyfire explained and Optimus stood up to walk out with him to see the console himself. Seeing the ping on the digital console was enough for him to try and start accurately figuring out a course for extraction, “Any update on Starscream?” Optimus asked and Jazz shook his head. 

“No, I’m not getting a reading on his signal, even with the encryption data that he provided.” Jazz vented, servos pressing against his own thighs with an irritated frown. 

“Continue to monitor it, I’ll update Ratchet. We need it to reach a speed we can bridge onto. Until then, the most we can is watch and wait. I’ll talk with Bumblebee about scouting out the general area. Do you have a pinpoint on the location their headed to?” He asked, zooming out the aerial view to look at the mapping of the area. 

“Yeah, I think so at least, not as populous but has the supplies I think they’re looking for.” Jazz moved the screen to show a small town up northeast. 

“Elko, Nevada. I did some research, It’s known for gold mining, which means there are more than likely some areas that may contain energon. Or even Dark Energon.” Jazz pointed out general populous areas and the mountainous regions as well. Optimus took that information into account, “I’ll give Fowler a call, I’ll see if he can assist in possibly evacuating. This might get messy.”

Jazz nodded and began working to track the Nemesis and its speed. Skyfire stared at the console a bit longer, “I hope he’s alright.” He mumbled out loud, and Jazz glanced at him, “Starscream… err he’s a strong mech. I’m sure he’ll bounce back from whatever hits him.” 

Skyfire looked at him with a concerned expression, “Not this one.” He stated before walking off to his quarters. Jazz vented, slamming his servo against the console out of frustration.

Chapter Text

What is this? 

Everything hurts.

Where am I? 

Pain. Pain. Pain. That’s all Starscream felt; an overwhelming, nauseating pain. He felt like he had been stabbed, ripped apart and ran over. His optics were offline, and with his commands ignored he felt like wires had been singed, broken, or cut. Every part of his body felt electrified, malfunctioning in a way where he was paralyzed and couldn’t move. There was silence and all he could do was feel the cold ground and the pain that came with his frame.

He didn’t know how long he had been in that stasis for, holding the illusionary languid body of his child; some form of mind trick. He had been through many mind tricks before. When Tarn had made his entrance, as brief as it was, he became a forced guinea pig of experiments. The belief being that having dealt with mental experimentation it would make one more mentally fortified. No, Starscream simply now has a knack for unmasking the type of mental attacks instead of defending against them. 

It made for an easy guessing game.

Eventually, after some time, his frame began to listen to his commands and optics powered on with glitchy HUD feedback. Next, his audials came back online, then his vocalizer. A quick glance at his surroundings and he knew he was back in the brig. It was darkened and silent, save for distance alarms. When he went to move, he immediately threw up, Energon caking the ground in abundance alongside his already bleeding wounds. Self-Repair was still functional at least and began its work, slowly but surely. 

Servos felt twisted and bent but were still able and he pressed against them to at least sit up. Arms shook with the added weight but they held. The undelightedly cold air hit his back struts with a sharp pain as he sat up. It took everything in his power not to scream as he realized both of his wings were missing half of their wingspan. Most of the resonance of pain was coming from them, bloody and mauled. He whimpered audibly as he managed to get ahold of his own emotions, coolant tearing again with the extreme pain they caused just existing in this state. He locked the rotating cuffs to prevent moving them unintentionally and tried to ignore the pain, looking down at his frame. 

He looked like he was shredded into pieces, armor missing paint, some plating bent, jarred or missing entirely, exposed wires sparked with minute movement and made every possible attempt to get up excruciating. 

He was partially missing a chunk of his right arm, charred from a fusion blast no doubt. Starscream didn’t even want to think about what his facial plate looked like. But no matter how much he was worried about his physical frame, one thing took his attention away from any sort of pain he was feeling and he ran an internal diagnostic. It gave some kickback with the command since his systems currently hated him due to the immense damage but it followed through. 

When the diagnostics returned with a percentages and a spark rate readback, he felt some relief. The sparkling was still alive, thriving but barely. His Energon levels were almost completely depleted from his extended decommission. Along with trying to keep himself alive during stasis, the sparkling more than likely drew from him for sustenance. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t even know how he had enough to throw up, let alone keep down. 

This situation felt almost laughable. In fact, it reiterated the understanding that Megatron was vacuous. Foolish and simple-minded. He had no inkling of compassion and even with his attempts—his wants—to have this sparkling, he was careless to neglect its host, the carrier. 

A wave of nausea and pain crashed against his internals, making him keel over. It rippled across his entire frame but originated from one point. It was constant and sudden. Errors popped up on his HUD because of it but Starscream couldn’t care to read them, trying to understand what was causing the tension. He outwardly groaned as another wave of pain flooded his senses and he felt dizzy from its effects. It was a wave that clashed from the tips of pedes to the top of his helm, and it flipped between those two points, he never felt stable. 

Get up. Get help.

He strained himself to stand, pedes shaky and unreliable. He used the berth in the corner to his leverage but every part of his body screamed at him as he moved and each shift caused more unbearable pain to his wings specifically. He wanted to sit there and die, the pain was excruciating, but he kept moving. He managed to press himself against the brig wall and drag himself to the bars. They were not energized but it didn't mean he wasn't still trapped. 

The Nemesis' alarms blared louder now that he was closer to the bars, a curious notion that made Starscream try and focus on the possible issue that was happening on the Nemesis. Due to the limited vision of the cell, Starscream could only see so much from his view behind the bars and he opted to lean against them instead, trying to focus on standing stably. The sound of pedes came rushing towards him and his instinct told him to step back but he didn't want to move. He was lucky that the bot that came into view was Knockout. The red medic gawked at him at first before quickly opening the door to the cell and catching the seeker when he tumbled forward. 

"Starscream! Come on.. stay awake, we have to get going, now!" Knockout supported him as he got Starscream back on his pedes and the expression that crossed the seekers face followed with a movement of his servo to his own cockpit. The same crashing pain and nausea came across him again and he keeled forward with a loud groan. Knockout kept hold of him while glancing back at the entrance to the brig. He knew what was happening but he was too focused on moving Starscream and getting him out of this area specifically. 

Knockout nudged Starscream and helped him stand back up, "Come on, we got to move. I'll help you." Knockout said as he wrapped an arm underneath Starscream's arm and held his side, being careful not to touch the sensitive and marred wings. Starscream reluctantly held onto the red medic with a pained expression. The constant wave of pain was divided and happened twice every couple of kliks. Starscream was unaware of what exactly was happening but Knockout moved with more urgency, practically carrying the seeker with one arm. 

The alarms blared, echoing down corridors while a red light beeping and flashing certain hallways. Starscream barely registered the fact that some of the defense systems in the Nemesis were haywire, mechanic doors that were designed to trap unsuspecting bots were deliberately closed around the ship and he realized that Knockout was carrying him down a specific path. 

"What did you do?" Starscream muttered with some realization and Knockout smiled warily as he continued to hobble down a path with Starscream on his arm, "You wanted an escape, so this is an escape." He remarked with a joking tone but the desperation on his face made Starscream realize that this is more dangerous than Knockout is letting on, "What about Megatron? Soundwave?" He asked, looking around as he asked, worried that they would appear if he said their designations. 

Knockout moved him into a room quickly as they turned a corner, waiting for a moment and then a loud thud sounded shortly after. Starscream peeked around and the once open corridor was now closed by another large door. Knockout let out an audible sigh and Starscream gave him a look, "Breakdown is handling that portion of things," Knockout finally answered as he helped Starscream back up. 

"Handling things?" He asked as they started to move again, down a different corridor. The pain continued to cause hiccups in their pace and he was having a hard time keeping track of just where they were going, "Yeah, handling things." Knockout affirmed as he continue to help Starscream down the hall. He was noticing the sluggish movements from the seeker so when they finally made it to some form of supply closet, he managed to slowly sit Starscream down on the floor with ease. 

"What are we doing?" Starscream was barely holding onto whatever reality he was seeing, servo clutching Knockouts arm as if he was going to disappear from existence if he didn't hold onto him. The pain created constant nausea now, and Starscream felt certain he was being torn apart from the inside, "I thought we were moving to leave." He managed to gasp out as he was once again forced to endure another wave of pain. Knockout kneeled next to him with a serious look on his face. 

"You're having contractions and I don't think we will make it to our destination with the pace we are going at now." Knockout explained, identifying the pain that his ignored errors were trying to notify him of since the beginning of his wake. 

“Contractions? Is that what that is?” Starscream felt exasperated even as he tried to pull some form of joking tone out of his vocalizer but it came across as gasping more-so than sarcastic. It didn’t help that his frame was vibrating with pain from all over not just from the sparkling itself but from the other raging injuries that self-repair couldn’t get to. Knockout overlooked him again, for a second time since seeing him before sighing. 

“Listen to me, there’s going to be a problem. You’re frame is compromised to the point where a natural emergence is not going to be possible.” He started and Starscream looked at him as if he was speaking Morse code, “Meaning?” Starscream asked, servo clutching his own mid-waist and gasping again when the pain shot through his frame again. 

“I will have to cut that child out in order to save the both of you. And I have to do it now.” Knockout said as his servo transformed in a circular saw. 

The Nemesis had two main control panels aboard the ship. There was the main deck, it housed not only the flight controls but also bridge controls, often easily dubbed ‘the bridge’ in most cases, and where Megatron’s throne laid. Then there was the stern, the far back of the ship. Its control panel had no purpose other than emergency propulsion control and shut down activations. The main deck also had the same options, amongst the many monitors, but Breakdown was a distraction for KO to get to the main deck. So he did what he knew best which was break things in order to cause a stir. And a stir, he did.

He hadn’t ran so much in his life before, but his joints began to hate him much more in this moment. The intention was initially to redirect Megatron specifically away from the main deck and he ended up also catching the attention of Soundwave as well. BD considered it luck when he did manage to get into the second control panel room and lock the door behind him. Soundwave could be heard on the other side, servos clawing behind the door with purpose. BD hoped to Primus that the door would hold while he figured out the panels systems. 

Smacking a flat servo against the keyboard did more than he was expecting, it brought up a digital interface lined with code that he barely could understand let alone read. The confusion only lasted a second when he felt slightly gratified as the screen flashed on one side with the text ‘Override Security Protocols’ written in white Neocybex. Pressing the button to confirm pulled up a multitude of screens, some being surveillance feeds, but most of all the gate controls were now free to use. 

He pressed on the controls that linked with Megatron and Soundwaves current positions. Breakdown watched with slight amusement as Megatron’s expression changed from indifference to bewilderment as he was cut off from moving any further down one of the ships east corridors. Then, as he pressed more gate controls, the alarms blared as another screen flashed before Breakdown closed it quickly. Mildly confused but focused, BD let the alarms blare, deciding that the sound would give some sort of coverage to any sound that Knockout or Starscream would make. 

With more random button presses, he watched some form of chaos unfold behind the monitors and for a moment he slightly understood the enjoyment of being a communications officer but also could understand the absolute insanity it would bring. BD began delving down a internal rabbit hole and wondered just how Soundwave was even sane after being so invested in his role and curious thoughts crossed his mind as to exactly how much had Soundwave seen now that he had access to most, if not all, cameras on the Nemesis. There were cameras in spots he didn’t recognize or even knew about. All of which made BD realize that he didn’t want to know anything about what Soundwave might’ve seen.

He watched Knockout carry Starscream through the halls and closing the consecutive gates when either Soundwave and/or Megatron would get too close to crossing paths with them. Soundwave was more-so looking for a way to get to Megatron, more than likely going to tell their leader about Breakdowns betrayal. Breakdown had no real care for its effect. This was a plan decided several Earth weeks in advance, just not this extravagant and not with Starscream’s sudden involvement but BD didn’t complain. 

Knockouts safety was all he cared about, and maybe a bit of Starscream’s. Though, he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“We’re in a decent position. We had to stop, he’s going into an early emergence. I might need your assistance.” Knockouts comm rang through his audials and he perked up at the mention of help, “Where do you need me?” He asked. 

“Meet us at the bridge, if you can open us a path, I can get them both there.” Knockouts comm was cut short by the sound of a saw colliding with what sounded like screeching metal and Breakdown grated with the silence that followed. Whatever operation that KO was pulling on Starscream was not at all pain free but he made a curt, “On it.” Before setting up a preordained path for them to take and stepped away from the panel. 

His servo transformed into a hammer and he bashed it against the console with distinct precision, intending on causing damage without messing up what he already set up on the digital screen. It broke down, monitors glitching rapidly before dissipating entirely. Satisfied with the result, he moved over to the opposite facing door and jogged over to it. 

Once opened, he was met face to face with the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime. Breakdown had no time to fight and had no intentions of fighting the clearly already amped up Prime. Initially backing up, Breakdown did nothing but glare at the leader who blocked his path out. 

“Breakdown.” It was a partial greeting from the gritty and upset leader. Something had crawled up his tailpipe and Breakdown didn’t want to find out, “Prime.” Breakdown responded stiffly, “I have no intentions to fight you, in fact you are in my way and you need to move.” Breakdown was in no mood to fight, even if he had the time for it, not when it impeded the success of his and Knockout’s plans. Now with Starscream a part of this steadily failing plan, he felt that the Autobots were now just causing more of a hiccup in his path than to help, even if the bots were looking for the seeker.

Optimus seemed to be upset with Breakdown’s responses, clearly coming to this room for a different reason but none willing to fight. He had hoped to seek reason in the wrecker, even if it meant making false promises, but Breakdown’s reactions led him to believe that he was not willing to listen to what the Autobot leader had to say, clearly focused on something else that Optimus was unaware of. Something that Breakdown wasn’t going to share. 

“We are looking for Starscream, do you have any—“ Optimus began speaking, battle mask covering his mouth with only his optics visible. Breakdown cut him off, servo still in its hammer form, “Move. I don’t care, I know who you’re looking for and you’re not going to be getting anything from me. I suggest you move out of the way before I move you myself, Prime. I really don’t have time for this.” Breakdown wasn’t willing to indulge any of Optimus questions or prodding, not when he concerned himself with Knockout’s safety, “Please, Prime.” He grumbled with a sigh. Optimus was slightly taken aback by the sincerity at the end of his request—more of an order—and moved out of the way with a quick shuffle. 

Breakdown quickly stepped past him before glancing back at Optimus and closing the door behind him, much to the Autobot leader’s dismay. Any attempts to open the door were naught as Breakdown smashed the door controls on the other side, effectively destroying any chance of opening it without essentially destroying it further. Breakdown got a move on down the hall, intending on heading towards the bridge.

Meanwhile, irritated with the turn of events, Optimus sighed out of frustration as another failed attempt at opening the sliding metal door was unsuccessful and he looked around the fairly barren room with an upset expression. He tried to find any other means of escape besides going through the other portion of the ship. The alarms that, no doubt, notified the Decepticons of their presence were still blaring, albeit muffled behind the closed doors, “What’s your status, Bumblebee?” He commed to the yellow scout, who was actively trying to navigate a maze of closed and open gates, fighting Vehicons on his way through. 

“Living my best life right now, trying to figure out where the frag I am. This ship is a maze, I don’t remember this many closed off corridors.” Bumblebee announced as he continued to run through the corridors, bashing himself against certain walls when he’d ram into a closed off section at full speed, knocking the wind out of him as if he was navigating a mirror maze, “It’s because it’s intentional, Breakdown seems to have caused a lockdown, which I believe is the reason why the signal showed up on our radars.” Optimus explained as he continued to look around the room as if something were to appear if he willed it to happen. Still, being useless. 

Jazz was the second voice to get on the shared comm link, “Why would he initiate a lockdown?” He asked as blaster fire was heard over the comm. He was in a different part of the ship, battling more Vehicons and trying to navigate his own version of maze hell. Optimus walked over to the adjacent door to look and see if the controls were still functional; they weren’t. 

“I’m not entirely certain, but I believe it has something to do with Starscream.” Optimus responded as he attempted to open up the other door. He could very barely hear the sound of pedes approaching as he attempted to lift it before he had a cold rush of dread that told him to move away and he did. Quickly stumbling away, he was narrowly missed by a fusion blast that went straight through the door. It melted the core of the metal, searing a large molten hole straight through the middle. There was only one mech that can cause that much destruction in one shot and it was Megatron. 

More shots followed through, destroying the already malfunctioning door and the Decepticon leader stepped through without a care to the sustainability of his ship or of himself. His optics spotted Optimus with a wild glare of rage and conquest before looking around the room for the assailant that caused the lockdown. When he didn’t find Breakdown, his optics settled back on the Prime, “You. What are you doing here? Invading my ship, again?” The warlord felt insulted, it was clear in his facial expression. Not only was his crew sabotaging his own ship but now it’s led to the Autobots infiltrating it as well. Every thought made the warlord more furious.

Optimus felt nothing but frustration towards the situation. They had come here to look for Starscream, to retrieve him, and so far on all sides they’ve turned up with nothing. Optimus had hoped that he wouldn’t have to face Megatron as he felt his own resolve slipping with the added pressure of Starscream’s disappearance. 

Megatron was no better than molten scrap in his optics and his presence in front of Optimus did not make the bubbling anger in his core simmer any further. The matrix only added on to the situation, chastising his failure to maintain his emotions with an internal reprimand. 

“Where is Starscream?” It felt futile to ask that question but Optimus’ grim concern made the words leave his lips anyway. Megatron didn’t seem willing to indulge his antics, just as Breakdown didn’t, the only difference was that Megatron was taking it more as challenge rather than a legitimate concern. In fact, the manic warlord only grinned at his question, “Tell me Prime. Did he seduce you? Is that why you are so adamant on rescuing such a useless life?” Megatron’s questions had a bit of a sinister effect behind it. As if he was trying to prove some sort of point. 

The implications made Optimus sick, “No life is useless and the assumption of debauchery is appalling.” He voiced his disgust and Megatron seemed gleeful in his response, “Oh come now, Prime. You and I both know that you are not innocent in the matter. In fact, I’m sure you found some sort of attraction in my former second. He has his charms. And I’m sure he was one convincing story to believe. Don’t lie to me, tell me, did he distort your allusions?” Megatron’s glee shifted to frustration, desperation. He was trying to prove his own lie, he wanted to believe something that wasn’t real. But every word that left the Decepticon leaders mouth was only solidifying the truth that Optimus had refused to accept. 

“You forge your own lies. He did no such thing.” Optimus’ patience was wearing thin. In a previous life, he would’ve spent minutes—hours—speaking with Megatron to fight for reason within the warlord. To make him give in to his fate, and turn it all around. But in the current moment, all he felt was rage. He had no want to speak with this impetuous mech, let alone fight him. 

Megatron was disappointed in his accusation. A frown seated his lips and he glared at Optimus more so now. Optimus returned the glare, "Such emotion. You would've made an excellent Decepticon, had you kept your anger. We could've been brothers again. Just like old times." Megatron's statements were goading, triggers for Optimus. The Autobot leader felt nothing but irritation as the words left his mouth, "Your delusions cloud your judgment, we are no longer brothers, not anymore." Every ounce of his body felt ingrained in a sudden adrenaline and the combat protocols switched on within moments as Megatron attacked him. Following through, Optimus pushed him back as the first swing of his servo connected with his forearm. Optimus intended on making him lose his footing and he did, the brute stumbled but regained his footing in an instant. 

He followed with his own attack, punches colliding with Megatron’s side before attempting to swipe upwards into an uppercut. Megatron, swift to move out of the way, grabbed Optimus’ arm and twisted it downwards, sending the Prime to a half kneel. 

Megatron used the leverage gained from holding his arm and swung towards Optimus’ helm. Optimus shifted his helm last second, Megatron’s knuckles grating the metal of his battle mask as it missed. Optimus then used his weight to counteract Megatron’s hold on his arm, making the warlord fall forward with the act. Using this as an opportunity, Optimus wrangled his arm free and used his legs to wrap around the warlords mid-waist and gain control, slamming Megatron into the ground with his calf jointed between his mandible and collar, pressed against his jugular. 

With Optimus’ arm free, he activated his ion blaster and moved to aim it at his helm but the sound of the fusion cannon charging made him switch his attention to Megatron’s arm which had positioned itself against his leg. Optimus quickly moved, using his legs to kick him away as the cannon shot off. It missed, barely, and made its power known on the wall behind him. 

Optimus repositioned himself when he fully stood as Megatron got up himself, fusion cannon now directly trained on him. Optimus returned the favor, aiming his ion blaster at him in response. They paced around each other, staring with weapons raised, “You seem quite adamant on ending my life. Is that your goal, Optimus?” Megatron was goading again, attempting to trigger Optimus into a reaction and it was partially working, “You will pay for your crimes, here and today.” Optimus stopped his pacing, glaring a dagger straight through the warlord as if he would die the longer he stared at him. Megatron only grinned at him in response.

“Let’s end this one and for all, brother!” Megatron yelled as he charged at the Autobot leader.

Breakdown was just working on instinct alone as he made his way through the hallways, passing by ignorant Vehicons as they passed by him and going the way he came from. He mapped out where Knockout was and by the time he had made it there, he felt a flood of relief to see the red doctor working diligently in the small storage closet as he opened the door, “Knockout.” He breathed out as Knockout finished up welding and repairing. From BD’s view, Knockouts silhouette covered the seeker in front of him but when KO moved, he could see just the mess this entire ordeal made. 

Energon caked the floor, and it was mostly one giant puddle underneath Starscream. Weld marks lined the seeker’s lower chassis and in Starscream’s arms was a small capsule, almost like a misshapen egg. Its casing was gray, it almost didn’t seem normal to BD, but Knockout’s overall expressions gave away that this was as normal as it was going to get, “What?” KO asked when he looked at the wrecker with a look of mild confusion. BD couldn’t help himself and kneeled, planting a kiss on the red medic’s lips before he eventually got pushed away, “Now's not the time you big softie!” Knockout chastised before moving away to help Starscream. 

The seeker was too out of it to care about the public display of affection that just occurred in front of him, “Can you hear me Starscream?” Knockout asked as he scanned him for any other abnormalities besides the obvious injuries. Starscream just nodded. His optics were dim but he was awake. BD approached him and kneeled next to him while Knockout double checked the welds and then looked at the small capsule. It pulsed with a pale blue colored when touched, lighting up the shadow of a small little form coiled in the middle. It’s reading were normal, save for a low percentage on Energon. Knockout chalked it up to Starscream’s injuries.

“Carry him, we need to get to the bridge and get out of here.” Knockout stood while Breakdown slowly picked up Starscream, holding him bridal style and making sure the capsule won’t budge from its placement in Starscream’s arms, “I wanted to tell you Knockout. The Autobots are here.” Breakdown said while Knockout peeked out into the hallway to make sure it was clear to move. As the word ‘Autobot’ registered to him, he looked at Breakdown with a look of surprise, “Here? On the ship?” He asked and Breakdown nodded as he moved over to the door now when Knockout signaled to move. 

“Yes, I bumped into Optimus on my way here, I had to trap him in order to keep him from following me, I just don’t think it would’ve been smart… considering Megatron and Soundwave are pissed off.” BD stated as they started to jog down the hall. Sounds of fighting was muffled behind the closed gates and turning down specific halls led to a path of Vehicon bodies that littered the ground. Still, they kept moving. Knockout spent time thinking on whether or not they should return Starscream to the Autobots but just glancing at the mangled seeker made him change his mind. There was too much to do, so little time. 

“It’s too risky, especially with Megatron and Soundwave roaming the halls with no pinpoint on them, we could risk running into them and that could be a damn nightmare in the making. I’d rather get him to the bridge and get him out and deal with his injuries than attempt to deliver him back to the Autobots.” Knockout sighed as he punched in the code to the deck and ushered Breakdown through when the coast was clear. Breakdown followed through, adjusting the seeker in his arms when he hissed and clutched a bit tighter to the capsule. BD ignored the extreme sympathy that came with looking at Starscream and focused on Knockout as the racer went over to the controls on the right side. 

BD placed Starscream on the ground near Knockout which made the medic look at him, “What are you doing?” He asked as tried to return his focus back to activating the bridge and getting doable coordinates to bridge to. Breakdown moved to the door, glancing in the hallway before closing the door and breaking the door panel, “Giving you time,” He grunted as he hurried over to the other doors and doing the same thing. Knockout understood and continued to work as he tried to find a one time bridge, he wanted to cover his tracks, especially because of Soundwave. He knew that it was eventually going to catch up to them but the least he could do was slow down the Communications Officer. 

When he finally caught some good coordinates and encrypted their sequence, he kneeled next to Starscream and managed to get him to stand, “Listen to me Starscream, I know you’re in pain but we don’t have much time. I need you to go through this bridge when I open it, we’ll be right behind you.” Knockout explained as he managed to get Starscream to at least look at him. Starscream held the console for support while his other hand held the small capsule, “I get it… can we just get the frag out of here?” He grumbled and Knockout smiled briefly before moving to turn the bridge on. 

At that moment, one of the sabotaged doors wrenched open, tendrils snaking on the other side as Soundwave stepped through. Breakdown moved quickly to prevent the telepath from moving any further but was quickly thwarted as a tendril attached itself to his chassis and shoved him back, electrocuting the wrecker to the point he couldn’t fight back immediately, “Breakdown!” Knockout called out, restraining himself from going to help him and focused on getting Starscream out. He went to activate the bridge but Soundwave got in his way almost instantly, grabbing the medics servo and twisting, making Knockout yell out in pain. A tendril attached itself to the console, attempting to destroy it before the bridge opened but failed as the green particle bridge opened up in the middle of the deck, its coordinates unknown as the screen glitched.

Knockout took a risk and slammed his own helm into Soundwave visor, cracking it and knocking the mech back as he scrambled to grab Starscream, “Go! Go through!” He yelled as he moved the seeker and shoved him towards the open bridge portal. Starscream stumbled forward with the push, holding the capsule tightly with his servos, “What about you!?” He yelled back, as Knockout managed to subdue Soundwave, circular saw grinding against any tendril that came even remotely close to him. “Just go! We’ll be fine!” Knockout grated his dentae, and tried to deal real damage to Soundwave as Starscream quickly went through the bridge. 

Soundwave fought back against the swiping from the circular saw, and tried to overpower the medic before Breakdown hit the Communications Officer with his hammer, sending him flying into the wall nearby, “We need to go, now!” Knockout huffed out as he shut down the bridge and quickly shuffled out the door before Soundwave could recuperate. Breakdown followed quickly after, limping behind him. 

Soundwave managed to recover from the blow, attempting to go after the both of them, only to come face to face with Arcee and Bumblebee. Blasters were raised at him, blocking him from moving any further, “Was it necessary to let Knockout and Breakdown go?” Bumblebee stated as he glanced at Arcee, keeping his attention on Soundwave as he paced outwards, doing a triangle position, Arcee moving in the opposite direction, “Optimus’ orders.” Arcee iterated as Soundwave stared them both down blankly, his visor showing no window to what he was feeling. There was no backup to help him and as far as he knew Megatron was still occupied with Optimus. 

Tendrils extended from the back of his frame, slithering against the floor to the flight controls while Bumblebee and Arcee talked briefly with one another while remaining trailed on him with their blasters, “Did you have any luck finding Screamer?” Bumblebee asked with a sigh and Arcee shook her helm, “No, and I still think this is pointless.” She remarked as she looked at the rest of the main deck while Soundwave remained kneeled, unaware of what the TIC was up to.

Tendrils continued until they reached the flight controls and began messing with the flight path and engaged the thrusters to suddenly move the ship, causing it to rock from the sudden change in pressure. Bumblebee and Arcee stumbled back as the ship lurched upwards and sent them flying into the wall behind them. Soundwave took this moment to get up quickly as the ship balanced out. He connected himself to the ships bridge controls and opened a bridge portal as the two Autobots got up and attempted to stop him.  Bumblebee and Arcee tripped through the sudden portal and into the barren sand dunes of Egypt as it closed behind them. 

With them dealt with, Soundwave retracted the tendrils and set the ship back onto autopilot. He left to find their leader, whether dead or alive, he was going to make sure that Megatron didn’t cause more of a mess than already created. Noting to himself to trace the bridge that Starscream went through.

Systems were beginning to fail, slowly but surely, every step felt more sluggish than the last. Wherever he was sent to was cold, dark, and rancid. He felt like he had been walking down this corridor for quite some time, holding the gentle capsule of his creation. She hummed lightly as he caressed the casing. Just a little longer and he would be able to hold her. His light, his….sun. The capsule glowed dimly as he held it closer to his frame. He sacrificed whatever heat he could provide her. 

“Sunburst… that’s what your name will be…” Starscream mumbled sweetly to the capsule as he continued to walk, ignoring every error ping that popped up on his HUD. A warm colored light entered his vision as he got closer to an unknown destination down an eerie corridor and as he got closer he could feel his frame refusing to listen to him. He had started to lean against the wall for support as he walked, hoping it would help the impending slowness, but it did nothing but make the journey more harrowing. He denied every alert about emergency stasis and focused on getting her somewhere safe. When the warm light was more in his view, he couldn't keep walking and stumbled, falling to his knees. He wailed openly, clutching the capsule in his arms, not wanting it to be harmed in anyway. At least he was free from the reign of Megatron. 

But was it worth it to sit in never-ending pain? 

Yes, she was safe, that's all that mattered.

He laid against the cold ground, pain radiating across his entire frame but at least he had her in his arms, safe and alive. He could've been content, laying there, listening to the subtle thumping of his little seekers spark but the sound of loud thudding footsteps shook him into a fright. He pushed himself up in a frenzy and attempted to move, dragging his already mauled wing struts against the wall beside him. The horrible grating noise that came from his vocalizer as every nerve in his body lit up from the sheer pain made him crumple back down to the ground as he sobbed again. The mech that turned the corner was not one who he would've expected to see but with no one else to help him, he reached out to the large mech with a shaky servo, "Please... Shockwave.. I need..I need help.." The seeker begged basically at his pedes, as the one eyed scientist stared numbly at the curled up former second laying on the ground of his lab. 

Shockwave did not immediately answer, opting to move over to him and kneel beside him. He seemed to take interest in the capsule, servo reaching for it. In response, Starscream weakly held it closer to his own frame, "No...don't.." He mumbled, his optics kept flickering as his system kept warning him, telling him that he was going to go into stasis the longer his injuries remained untreated. Shockwave still remained silent, seemingly observing, possibly deciding on what to do. Every flicker of his optics blanked out his sight and every time he was able to see Shockwave, the mech would have moved to a slightly different spot. 

When the seeker finally went into stasis is when Shockwave decided to actually move, sliding his arm and cannon under Starscream's injured frame he secured the capsule in Starscream's lap and lifted him bridal style, "Even in near-death, Starscream. You are a nuisance to my lab once again." Shockwave stated as he placed the former second on the operating table and left to grab some scrap metal and tools.  

Chapter Text

Starscream hoped that it was a nightmare when he woke up again in a damp lab on a cold table. For a brief moment, he sat in his sorrow and the memories of being strapped to a metal slab; forced to be an experiment to all sorts of drugs, procedures, and reconfigurations flooded his processor again.

He stared at the ceiling of the lab with disdain before the sound of pedes pulled his attention away from his thoughts. Shockwave said nothing at first as he approached with more tools and some miscellaneous scrap that seemed to have no purpose. The one-eyed scientist placed it down on a table nearby, the capsule gleaming next to him, glowing brighter than Starscream had ever seen before. 

"Shockwave." Starscream's vocalizer was grated and staticky from prolonged disuse and he strained as the words came out. He focused his gaze on Shockwave who turned to look at the seeker, "Good. You're awake." Shockwave hummed as he approached him with some sort of tubular device in servo. Starscream watched him with a nervous look as he sat up, unsure of anything that was happening, and Shockwave had no reaction to his anxiousness, "It is for the sparkling." He stated, an attempted form of blank comfort to quell whatever Starscream was anxious about. He hooked the small tube up behind a plate on Starscream’s lower chassis and the seeker watched on his HUD as the pop-up came up with a directive for indirect feeding and suddenly he understood what Shockwave was talking about. The tube was then attached to the capsule, which was seated nicely on a pedestal nearby. 

Shockwave briefly looked over the return and made sure the energon flow was good and handed Starscream an energon stick as the seeker shifted on the table, "Eat. You have been in stasis for exactly three cycles and to keep you on a steady track with your levels was difficult but doable.” He remarked as he placed a bowl next to him that contained more crafted energon sticks. They were crudely made but Starscream could only picture how the scientist managed to do anything with one servo. He reminded himself not to ask. 

Shockwave moved away from him with the seekers gaze watching him, all the while he started to eat the energon stick, “Why are you doing this?” Starscream asked as he glanced between the scientist and the capsule that sat idly nearby. The tube connected to the top of the capsule and it began pulsing every couple of seconds with a pearlescent blue glow that followed through the tube.

The energon was richer in color as it traveled through the tube, fully processed and liquified. Starscream stared at the return all the more curious of its reasoning, not entirely understanding the need for indirect feeding as energon itself was rich enough on its own for direct consumption. He tried to make sense of why it would need to be filtered through his fuel systems instead. A question that would remain unanswered for now.

Shockwave didn’t say anything at first when the seeker returned his gaze to him, he was focusing on some other project on an adjacent table which made Starscream sigh and look at himself, expecting to see the same gritty display as he did when he woke up in the brig. But he was mostly a blank slate, the weld marks from Knockouts work was still apparent but all of joints were realigned and corrected. His digits were buffed out, the missing claws still apparent but no longer stung. He felt a dull pain but nothing like it was before, in fact most of the pain he felt was gone and replaced with stiffness.

His paint was stripped away and he was fully silver besides the discoloration of his cockpit. His wing struts no longer had exposed wires but the entirety of his wings were still missing and he felt some sadness in their absence. Focusing on something else, he looked at the capsule and pressed a servo to the cold exterior, caressing the casing. Without it incubating inside his frame, he felt empty but relieved that she wouldn’t have to be suffering through his pain, “The sparkling has less than two cycles remaining in incubation. You are quite lucky it is healthy, even with your pre-existing status.” Shockwave remarked after had gotten a bit silent. He approached Starscream with a thick metal plate, a similar mock to a wing.

Starscream rolled his optics as he turned around with the scientists directive, “So I’ve been told.” He muttered as Shockwave attached the wing to the wing strut with a sharp click making Starscream shift a bit. His HUD activated with the new part, identifying it as his left wing. Shockwave’s servo prodded the strut and managed to connect the wing properly before moving away again to the adjacent table to grab the other one.

Starscream said nothing for several moments while his systems calibrated the new wing. He let Shockwave attach the second wing without issue, watching his HUD light up again, "I implore you to stay seated. I expect a decline in your mobility since prolonged stasis created dormant protocols. You should expect stiffness and some mild pain." The one-eyed scientist explained as he overlooked the seeker once more before walking off to the other side of the lab. 

Large tubes lined one wall, glowing with a deep green color, while the other walls held machinery about as ancient as Cybertron itself. Each tube had specimens that remain suspended in the liquid, dormant and waiting to be released. None of them seemed alive but the monitors connected to the tubes said otherwise. Everything was acquiescent of Shockwave's personality and Starscream didn't expect any less from the scientist. 

Starscream watched Shockwave walk between points in his lab, working on one thing to another, and briefly waited for his flight protocols to adjust to the new sensors on his wings. When they were fully calibrated, he slowly tested each one and felt partial joy when they reacted as supposed to. It felt nice to have pieces of his identity wove back together, he felt like he was nothing without his wings.

That’s because you are. You are nothing without them.

Starscream’s frame shook with fear for moment, he felt like everything had suddenly shrunken and for moment he felt like he was experiencing paranoia again. Specifically from claustrophobia. But, the walls were wide, he was not trapped. In fact he could fly around here if he so pleased. So why won’t his body stop shaking?

Stop it. Stop shaking. You’re fine.

Are you?

“Starscream.” Shockwaves voice dragged him from whatever hell he pulled himself into and suddenly he became aware of the fact that Shockwave was right in front of him. He was overlooking the monitors next to him. Still acutely watching his readings as they spiked on and off, “You are panicking.” Shockwave’s servo grasped Starscream’s arm and did nothing else but hold it. Neither tightly or loosely. A simple gesture that helped in some ways to ground the seeker. He stared at it, counting the joints and internally monologuing—asking why a scientist would need sharp digits—until the fluctuations came down to a stable level. When they did, Shockwave let him go and moved away from him, “Do not do that again.” It was a chide, one that Starscream was appalled by to think the scientist believed he had some sort of control over it. 

“You act as if I have some control over it.” Starscream scoffed, trying to regain some semblance of composure and Shockwave didn’t look at him, “Your thoughts directly correlate with your physical wellbeing. Your panic was not caused by physical manipulation, rather mental. You have control over it.” Shockwave responded as he intricately pulled apart what seemed to be some sort of motherboard. 

Starscream shook his head, “You’re sure it’s not because I might be scared of you?” He asked, though he was never intentionally frightened or nervous of Shockwave. It was because of his actions and pre-recorded procedures that made him quite a figure. It was not the person but the actions that he was afraid of. Shockwave did not stop his work as he responded, “Negative. You run from the face of danger but I have yet to see you run from me since you’re arrival here.” He stated, which made Starscream roll his optics. Citing in his processor that most of Shockwaves statements were matter-of-fact; astutely a proclamation. And with his location being on Cybertron, Starscream had no place to leave besides the possibility of getting cybonic plague or getting eaten by scraplets.

Still, nothing could possibly explain how Starscream was sent back to Cybertron and not to an unmarked area of Earth, at least that was the intention, "I don't understand." Starscream openly hummed and Shockwave briefly looked at him from his stance at one of the many ancient technological devices. 

"Explain." The one-eyed mech stated, more so as an order than an inquery but Starscream indulged him, if there was one person who had answers it was Shockwave, "Knockout was only supposed to send me to some place on Earth, how did I end up back on Cybertron?" Starscream asked, scanning the overall lab with partial disdain. He was trying to make sense of the fog in his processor, the escape, cutting out the capsule and then the fight on the deck. He couldn’t remember all details, he just remembers the unstable energy of the bridge, and its color being different. 

Sinking into his own understanding that he would probably be stuck on Cybertron with Shockwave for a good minute. Being actively present in the lab, he became acutely aware of a pungent smell emanating from some place in the dark lab. Yet, Shockwave didn't seem fazed by anything that Starscream might've been noticing, though the seeker didn’t bring it up.

Shockwave spent a moment deciding for several minutes if she even talk to Starscream, let alone give him an answer. In an outsiders perspective, all Starscream was doing was impeding in whatever project that Shockwave had delve himself into, "I did my own research into how that could have occurred. With Soundwave's visit, my beliefs into why were confirmed." Shockwave simply stated and Starscream seemed alarmed to know that information. Paying more close attention to what the scientist had to say or willing to share.

"Soundwave was here?" The question felt like a jape, Soundwave wouldn't have spent time allowing Shockwave to rebuild the seeker up again, much less allow Sunburst to remain here without some form of deception at play. He was devoted to Megatron just at Shockwave was devoted to science and it was very difficult to disrupt that loyalty without a good cause for reason. Shockwave was not concerned, though he never was, even as Starscream felt he lost more trust in believing he was safe in the lab, "He was. Around two cycles prior to your awakening, he came looking for you. Of course, I was still a servo deep attempting to stabilize your condition when he illogically interrupted my time." Shockwave remarked as he grabbed a nearby data pad and extracted whatever information he needed from it while working on a digital monitor. 

Starscream wasn't convinced that this interaction was anything short of a casual one, "And he just allowed you?" He asked and Shockwave shook his head, "No. He was adamant on returning the capsule to Megatron. He had said that your life was not as important as the sparklings to Megatron. An illogical statement in its basis. Had you failed to be delivered to me, that sparkling would no longer be alive. You should be grateful for my intervention, I have no greater reason to assist further than a mere favor, Starscream." Shockwave's reasoning was hurtful but Starscream had never been fully attached to the scientist either so his words held no real distinct issue for him. 

"I’m aware that I am on borrowed time." Starscream sighed with a slight sneer in his response even if he appreciated the honesty from the one-eyed mech, "What about Soundwave? Will he, or did he say, he was going to come back?" Starscream tried to focus on eating the not-so-great energon sticks while Shockwave focused on his research. The nervousness he felt from the mention of Soundwave's interaction didn't leave his processor, "He will. We had a brief conversation about the sparkling and its existence. He seems to understand now. As far as your sudden arrival, Soundwave informed me that they were in the midst of building a space bridge during your defection as a means to reestablish control for Cybertron. It was mostly dormant until the recent attack activated it. As far as he sees it, he was the reason why the bridge sent you where it did." Shockwave was providing information without promptu which felt suspicious. Much more coming from the 

Starscream shifted uncomfortably on the table, "Do you plan on surrendering me to them?" He asked as he attempts to move his limbs, fighting through the soreness, becoming more concerned about his own safety and the loyalty of Shockwave to Megatron. But Shockwave surprised him with his next response, "No." Shockwave stated simply as he continued to work as if this was nothing to him, when in reality it was everything to him. Shockwave was no simple minded person, every statement had a complex reason behind it. There was no empathy or compassion behind this mech. Starscream was the first to know that. 

"This doesn't make any sense, Shockwave." Starscream remarked with an unamused look and watched as Shockwave briefly hesitated on continuing what he was doing before resuming, “It doesn’t make sense because I haven’t told you everything. I recommend that you rest for now. You aren’t going anywhere soon.” Shockwave said with a statement that sounded like an order. Reluctant to comply, Starscream didn’t move at first but eventually laid back on the uncomfortable slab with a disgruntled expression. He stewed in his thoughts, unsure what to make of his current situation and glanced towards the capsule one last time before falling into recharge. 

Shockwave glanced towards Starscream after he fell in recharge and placed his tools down, approaching him and the capsule with upmost curiosity. Touching the metal on the capsule, he inspected its exterior before plucking the tube from it and its carrier. He overlooked Starscream’s frame with diligence, and double checked every mark he made amongst the many repairs. Picking up a data pad underneath the slab, he repeated his checks. Lists of replacements, welding, internal to external repairs lined the digital screen and Shockwave made no sound of acknowledgment towards the new frustrating situation. 

.     .     .     .     .

Monitors blazed with deafening sounds, repeating the same tone over and over and over again. Energon was the primary color that shrouded his vision as he worked amongst the scrap that was Starscream’s remaining framework. He was mangled beyond recognition. At the time, Shockwave barely knew who was limping into his lab, let alone crumbling before him, pleading for help. He only knew the difference when the mech spoke and revealed himself to be Starscream, carrying a legacy forged in a capsule. A life that was almost impossible. A life that should’ve been impossible. 

Now, he sat on the cold table that Shockwave managed to clear with barely any semblance of a life signal to remain. The capsule teetered within the same frame; both were dying. He could keep the capsule alive, but Starscream was a different story entirely. Focusing on one or the other, he worked on Starscream in bits and pieces, every single movement caused his readings to spike and Shockwave learned quickly that pain blockers were ineffective to prevent his frame from feeling the procedures.

The capsule remained functional without the carriers assistance but was pushing through with a semblance of sheer luck. Starscream stabilized for a couple of hours before dipping again and the process repeated. This carried on for a least a cycle and a half before Shockwave had done enough work to keep the mech alive without extreme assistance. All had been well since then until someone came to visit without prior notice. 

Soundwave was a silent mech, as most were not. Shockwave was deeply ingrained in Starscream’s reconstruction when the communications officer intruded upon his lab without saying a word. Although Shockwaves existence alone was a major concern and left most functional mechs scared for the future, and incredibly nervous of his presence, Soundwave was not one to fold so easily to sudden changes. 

Though Soundwave made no moves immediately, he made his attendance known after briefly standing in the midst of the lab, watching the one-eyed scientist work without pause. An EM field brushed Shockwave’s backside plating, a peak into the psyche of Soundwave and—although brief—it was filled with frustration and unidentifiable turmoil. The silent mech would never crumble to his own internal struggles but even as Shockwave turned to look at him, halting his procedures, Soundwave was more than just an internal mess of conflicting emotions. 

His frame had seen better days, a conscious effect from a lack of proper recharge. He wasn’t beaten, not as Starscream had been. No, Megatron would never, but the distinct difference in behavior was enough to know that the, now, SIC was unable to handle the amount of work he was imposed on. A distinct lack of control. Yet, even still with his own conscious calmness he held on a constant basis, the unraveling patience that was shrouded from others, he tumultuously acted in favor of his disturbed leader. 

Shockwave would never understand the emotions of others, even as Soundwave attempted to wrangle compliance from him, “You— must return him.” The words were garbled, and spit out like a machine playing a radio on repeat. An illogical form of communication that would’ve made Shockwave cringe if he could. It reminded him of the Autobot scout. Yet the difference being that Soundwave had a vocalizer and chose not to use it.

“Negative.” Was Shockwave’s response, intending on returning to his original post, digging through the confines of Starscream’s internal framework. Intending to right what was wrong with him. The reason? Shockwave couldn’t determine one. He had no definitive reason to keep him alive yet he chose to. 

Soundwave failed to understand Shockwave’s confusing defiance, “Megatron requests— it.” More words spit out in a frenzy, using Starscream’s own voice which was a direct attempt to make the scientist speak more. Shockwave only continued his messy procedure with no apparent want to communicate back to the silent mech which made Soundwave grab hold of his arm and pull, “I request it.”  The voice that came from behind the mask was one Shockwave had heard before, during the beginning of the war, when he was freshly washed of his emotions and found solace in the discovery of science. 

This was Soundwave, mechanical and void of any other inflection. Yet he held so much desperation in his request and Shockwave couldn’t help but stare back at the mech who was clearly dismantling with every cycle that passed. And for once, he believed that Megatron’s ideals must’ve shifted to affect the proud Decepticon that stood before him. Battered in a different way with their prior commander laid out on a cold slab with tools imbedded in his form. 

“My answer still stands.” Shockwave stated, unimpressed, staring at the silent mech even as the servo loosened its grip. He saw no threat in front of him, even with Soundwave’s frustration, “Return to Lord Megatron with an honest answer. I will speak with him myself. Starscream must stay here, until he is able to live on his own.” Shockwave remarked with some distant confidence, he respected Megatron. He did not fear him. He did not fear anyone. 

Soundwave remained standing nearby, even as Shockwave turned away from him to return to his work. The SIC had nothing to say but still kept Shockwaves frequency for further conversation. Even as he left the confines of the lab, nothing stopped him from pinging the scientist with silent questions, that remained unanswered until the procedure was through.

Silence was never often something that occurred in the Autobot base. Usually there was always some sort of commotion, or conversation happening in any portion of the HQ, but these past couple of cycles did not do well for many. The humans were even anxious in the presence of the bots, it was as if something had truly jarring had occurred and no one was speaking about it with one another. Cliffjumpers passing was not as disheartening as this instance. 

They had returned from their extrication empty handed on the day of the invasion. Multiple bots returned with more injuries than none and at least some intel on what to do next. Optimus was among those who were injured and was the worst of the many. He spared no word or mention of Starscream when being evaluated and for the most part was quiet throughout the recovery process. Even Ratchet was quite perplexed and surprised to see such sudden changes in the leaders behavior. Although, it wasn’t the first time he had seen this before.

“You’re lucky to return to us alive.” Ratchet commented as he did another physical evaluation on the Prime, who still had no true interest in conversation but was up and moving more than he did in the past cycles. The fight with Megatron left more than just a battle wound but a heavy spark and Optimus merely twitched a digit and glanced at Ratchet with a repressed smile. He didn’t say a word although his processor was running a million miles a minute with differing levels of concern and frustration. 

Ratchet only sighed and finished up the evaluation with a quick nod, “You’re good to go, I still suggest you rest up. Those cuts still need to go through self-repair a bit more before they are fully restored.” He explained as he overlooked Optimus once more. The Prime didn’t say anything at first but exited with a quick, “Thank you.” Before making his way to his quarters. Ratchet followed him out before stopping at the entrance to the corridor and watched him walk to his quarters before moving to the control room.

“Jeez, boss man is still upset?” Miko’s voice rung out through the awkward silence as Ratchet seated himself in Optimus’ spot. The short young girl leaned against the railing with some mild pouting and Ratchet looked towards her, “Well, I’ve seen this behavior before. It comes in bouts, it’ll pass, it just takes time.” Ratchet sighed as he focused on the console, “What causes it? I mean, in this case.” Jacks voice entered the conversation as he approached Ratchet, seating himself near Miko on the catwalk. He seemed partially concerned considering Optimus was never usually seen getting upset in any real capacity.

Ratchet took a moment to think about his answer and glanced towards the corridor again as if Optimus was going to appear, as spry as he once was, “This usually happens when something happens involving Megatron. Before the beginning the Great War, Megatron was not known as his current designation but it was his given name when the war began. Before his expected betrayal, Optimus was once friends with him.” Ratchet explained, but as most information was already known he looked off when the children seemed to come bored of the answer, “But, after their split, Optimus was quite upset about the result. As much as he is strong, he can be rather emotionally unavailable at times. Just like this." Ratchet continued as he sorted through past and current signals that were displaying on the digital console. Jack and Miko seemed interested in this statement while Raf held back on making any sort of comments. 

"So.... depressed?" Jack tried to understand the basis of Optimus' possible internal emotional issues, but he couldn't and Ratchets sigh only cemented his beliefs, "I suppose in human context, it could mean that but its a little more complex than that." Ratchet scoured through the console with a bit more intent, unsure what to do with the conversation. He seemed to thank Primus himself when Jazz walked in with a slight limp but a high attitude, "How are you doing doc?" He asked as he approached the console and leaned on the metal base. Ratchet gave him a look, “As better as I’ll ever be, how’s that limp of yours? I patched what I could with supplies we have, but we’re running low.” He felt sympathetic to the spec op, but Jazz’s brief smile brightened his mood. 

“How’s the boss? I haven’t seen him since he’s been back.” Jazz felt the neverending tension that lingered whenever Optimus left a room. He ate himself away, with the apprehension and frustration from failure. No one commented on it, but they were all thinking it. Ratchet seemed to repeat his own concerns, “He’s existing. He’s troubled, as much as anyone. I’m more worried about Starscream’s condition than anything. The seeker brothers were a mess these last couple of days, I couldn’t imagine what they felt.” Jazz said nothing at first, stewing in his thoughts about the situation. Thundercracker and Skywarp were only commuting because Skyfire kept them relatively calm, save for the most recent episode. Jazz had only briefly learned about trine bonds and when the seeker brothers went haywire, it felt like it had been more like a ticking time bomb than a pre-existing status. 

They were hysterical; upset, angry. A feud of emotions. Angry at the Prime or truly at anyone in their wake. They blamed the Autobots for their failure, reciting that their existence in the base without their leader—their brother—was equal to or worse to captivity. They felt injustice, and Optimus took all of their indignation with a calm expression when it happened. Which made this current experience more jarring.

No one had told the brothers that they had returned empty handed, and it was possible that a part of them knew that. As for their savage behavior cycles prior, they were locked in a more confined room with linked status cuffs for their own and the others safety. They weren’t happy, and they never were going to be until Starscream came back, which made the partial intel they had a primary topic but not enough to initiate a search. They didn’t know where Starscream was. His signal was a blip at the time of excursion that created difficulty in tracking where he was and if he was still alive. They didn’t even know if the child was alive either, which concerned Ratchet more than anyone. 

“What’s the plan?” Jazz asked as he sat down next to Ratchet. Ratchet seemed disgruntled, unwilling to think of the possible failures, “Well, I need to tell the seeker brothers that we couldn’t get Starscream. If you can, look over the playback. Maybe we can comb an answer from there.” Ratchet sighed as he got up. Jazz watched him leave with a nod and took over the console. The humans watched him, all the more surprised by the passing conversation. Jazz didn’t really offer them anything but a shy smile. 

Ratchet was sluggish walking to the back of the base, to the quarters of the seekers who were more volatile without Starscream than with. Nothing could prepare him as he opened the door to see Optimus seated between the seekers, calmly speaking with them. Thundercracker jittered in place, wings twitching with his anxiety and Skywarp was curled up in himself, dealing with his own fear. 

“We have information and possibly allies that can help clear up the situation, our confusion. He will be found, I promise you that.” Optimus spoke softly, vocalizer partially staticky as he explained. Thundercracker seemed apprehensive but was starting to trust Prime on his word, slowly but surely. Skywarp only nodded silently and scooted closer to Thundercracker who comforted the purple seeker in response. 

Optimus only seemed to notice Ratchet after her got up and was on his way out of the room. Ratchet gave him a look, “You care to share the information you have?” He asked him with a slight accusatory tone. Optimus held no reaction to it, “It will be explained in due time.” He responded, voice grated from abuse. He left shortly after, slipping by Ratchet who watched the leader leave before looking at the seeker brothers. Calmer than they were days prior. 

Ratchet left them to their own devices when Skyfire arrived with their cubes. He moved back to control room, expecting to see Optimus in the midst of the room but Jazz was still seated at the console when he returned. Bumblebee was distracting the humans when Ratchet approached. 

“Did Optimus come in here?” He asked and Jazz briefly glanced at him while working, “No, I didn’t see him at least.” He responded with a shrug and focused on the console again, expertly sorting through the contents and looking for anything out of place during the fight, “Why?” Jazz prompted again and Ratchet debated on saying anything about what he saw, “Optimus spoke with Thundercracker and Skywarp, he was there when I went back.” Ratchets response made Jazz look at him in surprise.

“So soon during his recovery? They could’ve mauled him.” Ratchet sighed with Jazzs statement, “I know. Did you find anything?” Jazz sorted through the contents of the digital console as Ratchet asked, looking through the geography and focused on the coordinates where the Nemesis was hovering at during the invasion. He pointed towards the deck, which was facing west at the time it came to a stop. On display was a marker, a signature reading that wasn’t familiar, “There’s this. It was shortly after the Nemesis tilted back, it traveled maybe 50 feet on the radar before disappearing again.” He showed him the read-back, watching the tiny circular marker shift downwards before seemingly disappearing. It was strange but not too unusual. 

“I think the signal was too prevalent to be Starscream’s and the encoding doesn’t match up, but you can never be too sure.” Jazz wasn’t completely confident in his answer, he felt that there might something else at play. Something that probably involved Optimus the more he thought about what Ratchet had said. The leader was hiding something, but they didn’t know what. Ratchet analyzed the time stamps and shifted back on his pedes, “Save that for later. We’ll go over it again when Optimus is at peak performance. I have a feeling he might have an answer to this. For now, rest. I think we all need a bit of recharge after these last couple of cycles.” Ratchet shook his head with his words, trying to wrap his processor around the entirety of what happened. 

The Nemesis doesn’t just stop on a dime. In fact it’s almost always moving. So what caused such a big change to its internal structure so quickly? Everything about the incursion was confusing. From the lockdown on the ship to Optimus’ unusual silence and some defensiveness. Ratchet hoped answers would come sooner than later, otherwise the meeting with the others was going to be a difficult one. 

Still, he sighed when Jazz gave him a look, “You’re stressing yourself out. We’ll figure this out, one way or another. We just got to work out some kinks…” Jazz tried to lighten the mood as he stood, “If you want, I can talk to the big man. He might be a little skiddish right now because of the mission failure. I’m sure I can brighten his attitude a bit.” Jazz’s offer was kind, maybe if Optimus had no inkling of interest in providing him information, then Jazz might coax the Prime to be a bit more lenient in sharing information. 

“Sure. You might have better luck than me.” Ratchet held back any sort of gritting that he could feel through his mandible. He was not the happiest mech in the world but when it came to Optimus, he tried to be open-minded. Optimus was usually forthcoming with the old medic, even more so with Elita when she was still around. But with one less light in his life, it seemed Optimus began to withhold a lot of information that the leader felt that Ratchet didn’t need to know. And it hurt. Emotionally, it hurt. And maybe Jazz could see that, “Trust me, ya old bot. I’ll see if I can bring him out of his shell again.” Jazz smiled at Ratchet and patted his shoulder, “I’ll give you updates, alright?” Jazz let the mech go and limped his way to the back corridor. Ratchet could only watch on with a deep frown.

Chapter Text

“Come on, we’re making it somewhere.” Knockout’s voice grated as he held Breakdown up with one arm, lugging the wrecker like he was dead weight. They were somewhere on Earth, they didn’t exactly know where, and were too worried about getting seen or tracked down to really care about knowing. All Knockout knew was that a water source was nearby and that’s where he was going.

Breakdown grumbled and hissed as they moved. Mechanical joints making crackling and shaking noises as they walked. Knockout cringed upon hearing it, “I know BD, I know. I’ll look at it when we get to a safe spot. Just keep walking.” Knockout tried everything in his power to support him as they walked, even with dizziness shrouding his processor. But eventually, they had to stop, a feet away from the water source and Knockout couldn’t hold his composure. He threw up, violently, taking a hard kneel to the ground that even made Breakdown try and kneel himself to comfort the red medic. 

“I’m fine..” Knockout waved a servo to Breakdown and wiped his mouth, “Just got dizzy, is all. Take a seat near that tree, this’ll be a decent rest spot.” He mumbled as he pointed, standing back up and helped Breakdown seat himself under a large tree nearby, “You’re sure.. you’re fine?” Breakdown hissed through his teeth as Knockout examined his right leg, “I will be fine, nausea will pass. Probably from the rapid descent we faced in the middle of fleeing. As for you, I can’t do much about the missing servo… but I can realign your right leg junction. It’s just.. going to hurt.” Knockout bit at his inner bottom lip from the stress, there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, he gave Breakdown a look for approval and BD just nodded.

“You know what to do. I trust you.” He remarked with a slight chuckle and Knockout gave him a small smile before placing his good servo on the side of the leg that was facing in wrong direction. He gave BD a warning look before suddenly shifting the dislocated leg into place with the knee joint. Breakdown yelled out as a result, and although Knockout expected it, he couldn’t help but flinch. He hated Breakdown in pain, whether he was the one who inadvertently caused it or not. With the leg in its proper place, he soldered the broken metal in place and pulled a small Energon cube from his subspace, shoving the tiny crystal into BD’s servos while the wrecker caught his breath, trying to focus on Knockouts face rather than aching pain in his leg.

“Eat, it’ll boost self repair, at least a bit, with the energy. That way these wires won’t continue to spark.” Knockout fixed any sort of mismatched electrical, shifting the ripped wires to their respective places. Breakdown reluctantly ate the cube, choking down any sort of grumbles or whines that he couldn’t control from the pain. Knockout gently rubbed the top of his servo with his own and sat fully back on his aft when he felt that there wasn’t much else to do. Breakdowns self-repair was basically already repairing the severed damaged section of his forearm and wrist. The servo would just have to be gone for a bit until Knockout could scrap up a replacement, “You look like a mess.” Breakdown commented and Knockout took a brief moment to look at himself. The paint was scraped and scorched in certain areas. Although he wasn’t as worse off as Breakdown, his left servo still hurt like hell. He managed to realign the broken digits to their correct formation and he placed whatever stints he could find in his subspace on the malfunctioning pieces. For the most part, he was still able to work with one hand but he felt much worse than he looked. The ruined paint job still made him upset.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Breakdown asked again when Knockout didn’t answer to his comment. His energy was slightly returning and KO didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to have a conversation, in fact he really didn’t.

“No, not really.” He snarled openly, upset at the situation rather than his sparkmate who seemed inclined to know more. As usual. 

Breakdown decided to keep quiet, understanding based on the circumstances that Knockout was more than just not okay and opted on comfortable silence. KO stood after a moment before sauntering over to the river nearby, the water was mostly still besides the natural current that didn’t seem to be roaring or flowing at a high rate. He tested the temperature before cupping his servo and splashing himself with the cold water. It felt nice, and it was a simple way to get rid of the remaining dirt and grime from their fall. He pulled a rag from his subspace and soaked it with the cold water before standing and returning to Breakdown. 

BD briefly rested his helm against the tree as KO approached and jerked slightly when Knockout started to rub the rag against his plating, "Cold." Breakdown grumbled as Knockout wiped the dirt and grime as a result from the tough landing, which didn't help dull the pain any less. It was clear that it was uncomfortable based on the expression on Breakdown's face, although he never outwardly said anything. Knockout shrugged lightly, "Its better than nothing. Besides, your frame is running hot due to the injuries. Its best I try and cool down as much as I can." Knockout commented as he gently ran the rag across the plating around the broken leg. The cold provided some relief to the ache but it was short-lived. 

Knockout couldn't help but sigh as he stared at the worst of the joint, "You wont be able to walk for at least a solar cycle, I don't know what I'm going to do." Knockout's defeated statement held many meanings, many stressers. Concerned for more than just Breakdown, and himself. Starscream was on his processor, unsure of where he had sent the seeker and his daughter. For all he knew, he could've sent him to his death. 

"Hey, look at me." Breakdown mumbled, servo caressing Knockout's cheek with an affectionate touch which managed to ground the red racer with a slight pout, "Everything is alright, just focus on me for now. We will worry about the rest. Okay?" Breakdown asked, gently pulling Knockout to his side and cradling him to the best of his abilities. Knockout returned the gesture, leaning into his sparkmates embrace with a depressed attitude. He tried to find solace in the comfort and leaned his helm against his chassis, listening to the thumps of the others spark, "I'll try." Knockout murmured as he stared at the surrounding woodlands with a blank look. He wanted to relax, but everything in his frame told him to be on alert.

And as unfortunate as his instincts were correct, he was about to meet an unexpected guest. The air mixed with a sudden energy, particles shifting, and KO's EM field crackled with the sudden change in pressure. Knockout was quick to stand, pushing away from Breakdown, who only grunted in response. His servo transformed into a circular saw as he stood in front of Breakdown, shielding him as a green bridge portal appeared nearby them. It destroyed the foliage beneath it and although he thought he was prepared for anything, he was not prepared for the mech that walked through the bridge. 

Starscream was able to walk around and move freely by the fourth solar cycle passing. At first, he was assisted by Shockwave on walking again, protocols were so blatantly dormant that for a moment Starscream had to relearn how to walk but as he had expected, he was adjusting quickly. A feat that Shockwave commented on but Starscream refused to acknowledge. He felt his ‘fast recovery’ had some underlying aspects towards his previous beatings, an unconscious fear. He had to recover quickly, he had no choice in the matter. Now, it was for the sake of Sunburst, not for fear of Megatron's punishments. 

When he was able to functionally walk without Shockwave's assistance, he helped the mad scientist when it mattered and when he was asked to. At this point, he was moving and breathing for her, even though he had no wish to be on Cybertron. He didn't want Sunburst to be a witness to the decay of their home planet, much less spend most of their days in a lab filled with science experiments. Although he held some trust for Shockwave, he had an issue with discovery. Even with his unusual help for Starscream’s recovery and keeping Sunburst alive, Starscream felt that there was still that darker side of him that wished to do more than just allow the Sunburst to live. 

Her existence was not supposed to be entirely possible due to the measures taken during pre-war to prevent unexpected creations during war. As a result, Shockwaves interest in Sunburst was quite apparent. Much more so with Starscream as well.

Shockwave was no mech that ignored experimentation, even while there were moments where Starscream couldn't help, he would watch the scientist with astute observation. He was trying to grasp at what Shockwaves pure intentions were, but the one-eyed mech gave the seeker no inkling into his thought process. Even when it came to the scrap he came back with on 'Salvage Days', Starscream tried not to question what Shockwave did, as to prevent arguments. Still, he couldn't help but feel nervous when Shockwave approached him that morning, "I am leaving." He said as he grabbed a couple of data pads and subspaced them.

“Leaving? Where?” Starscream asked with a look of confusion and mild anxiety. Shockwave briefly glanced at him as he approached a console, separated from the main portion of the lab, “To speak with Megatron.” He remarked with the same inflection as always. As if this wasn’t going to change anything when in reality, it was going to change everything. 

“That’s a death sentence..” Starscream grumbled, “His anger doesn’t discriminate. Even higher subordinates will be at mercy to him.” He stated with a sigh, and Shockwave said nothing to his comments at first. For a moment, he contemplated on leaving at all but there was much to do and with little time, “Stay here. I will be back.” The one-eyed mech stated as he opened up a space bridge portal and disappeared through it before Starscream had a chance to say much else. It was like the scientist was in a hurry. 

“Where else am I supposed to go, you irritating—“ Starscream muttered as the space bridge closed, his volume increasing with every word. He grumbled openly as he shifted his seating position on the table. Shockwave did not seem to understand his surrounding context or he just didn't care, which either was a reasonable option. Starscream looked around the lab for something to start on before his attention was shifted to the capsule nearby. Still seated neatly on its own pedestal. 

The pulse, that was stagnant and stayed the same every cycle that he’s seen it, had started to increasing its blinking. Unsure of what to make of this phenomenon he carefully picked up the capsule and held it close to him, believing this would help in some way. It did the opposite, as far as he believed, and the capsule pulsed a bit faster before the seal broke open suddenly. Liquid gushed from the open seams and inside was a small protoform of seeker designation, but a bit bigger than the average frame size. It was mostly blank, broadly silver in color due to its age. Starscream--encapsulated by the tiny being--gently scooped her up into his servos, discarding the remnants of the capsule. 

“You must be my little Sunburst.” Starscream spoke softly, unsure if his voice would distress her, and held her closely to his frame. She hiccuped, shifting in his servos and nuzzled against the glass of his cockpit, a sign of life that Starscream had never seen before. His new wings flicked backwards, anxious of this new experience, and he remembered just how little he knew of being a proper carrier. 

He didn’t know what else to do but hold her closely, as if he were to let her go she would disappear from his arms. He admired her silently, looking over her features, trying to identify what genetics she crafted of herself. Her identity. There were many things that showed of Starscream’s character, she was seeker on its own which was a testament of the dominant genetics. But there were other aspects that showed that she was a hybrid, just as Ratchet suspected.

Her helm was a clear indication, its shape was a combination of his and Megatron’s. Though the form was sharper in the cowl, showing Megatron’s appearance through her softened features. Her wings were slender but long, about half the span of her body. Her entire frame was a combination of two types and due to Megatron’s clear bulkiness, it carried to her as well, from her chassis to her legs. Starscream could even see the possible outline of treads on her little legs. None of her features were a negative prospect to Starscream. Even with the understanding that Megatron would be prevalent in the little seekers genetic makeup, he could never hate her for simply holding facial or bodily attributes similar to the Decepticon leader. 

He expected it to be like that, he had prepared himself for it cycles earlier and now that she was in his arms, he didn’t know what to do or even how to start caring for her properly but he knew his first intention was to get her out of this environment. Shockwave was much more hospitable than he could handle and he felt like he was on a time crunch as the cycles passed. He needed to do something. It was now or never. He shifted Sunburst so she was in the crest above his cockpit--below his neck--and allowed her to snuggle into the small space freely with easy access to remove her if need be. Starscream couldn't transform, not with her in that spot, but neither did his protocols allow it either. Dormancy from medical stasis made his joints ache and he already tried it once when Shockwave stepped out for a moment, nothing was following his commands and it irritated him to no end. 

He scoured the lab while Shockwave was absent, peeking through unlocked data pads and inspecting the unlucky specimens that lined the far wall. Hoping anything could yield him some sort of clue to escaping this decaying planet. He continued searching, occasionally glancing at the newspark sitting atop his chassis with blatant curiosity and concern. The little seekerling snoozed in the minute space with a soft expression and Starscream felt constant relief with every breath the little sparkling took. He was in disbelief of her existence but nonetheless making sure she was alive with every couple of kliks that passed.

For a moment, he thought all hope was lost when he couldn't find anything, until a tucked away data pad caught his attention when he came back to the very table where he had laid on cycles earlier. The digital tablet was hidden under a pile of cloth but was haphazardly placed as if it was placed in a slight rush, though he couldn't imagine Shockwave as a mech who was inefficient with his time. Picking it up, the data pad outlined everything done to his frame during the cycles that he was out. From specific procedures on reconstruction to measures taken to keeping his vitals stable. There were even comments about the color of his spark which made Starscream curious. 

It weighed on his processor for a while now. A red spark was not usual for a Cybertronian and although he believed at first it was related to being cold-constructed, Thundercracker and Skywarp did not have the same infliction, he had confirmed it himself. There was nothing that the Autobot medic could provide to possibly explain the abnormality and while he tried to figure out it on his own, Shockwave probably located more information than what Starscream had at his disposal. The comments listed assumptions or possibilities as to how the discoloration happened, one of the many theories listed were 'quantum immortality'.

"Quantum immortality?" Starscream mumbled out loud, confused by the term for a moment before he realized its implications. Then he chuckled, “Shockwave does not bring metaphysics into his work, this doesn’t make any sense.” Although, the theory held some weight, it had been a decent amount of time since he had seen the mysterious mech. Maybe he was a manifestation from his dreams. Dreams from his disturbed conscious. He hadn’t dreamt in a while, it would make sense. Yes. That’s the explanation.

Discarding the data pad in the same spot he found it in, he seated himself back on the table and gently scooped up Sunburst into his servos from the small space above his cockpit. The seekerling was small, about the size of both of his servos, curled up in a tight ball. She shifted in his servos, stretching her arms and legs, cooing softly as she moved and her optics opened very slightly to peer at Starscream. 

Starscream stared at her, bewildered for a moment, “Amber optics.” He mumbled confused and gently stroked her cheek with his digit and her small servo curled around it in response, cooing more. He tried to piece together memories as he watched her before he seemed to come to a conclusion in his head, “Ah, I see.” Starscream gently held her servo and planted a small kiss to her helm. 

“You will be quite the shock for your uncles, sweet spark.” Starscream sighed as he held her close to him again and laid on his side. Sunburst snuggled into his servos and he rubbed her head, “I miss them. I’m sure they would love you.” He whispered as he watched her fall back into a peaceful recharge.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .

“Would you mind explaining to me why you directly ignored my orders?” Megatron asked with a certain grit in his tone. He was not in a good mood today, much less these past few cycles. He had learned of many things in less than a week; Knockout and Breakdown were the causes of the malfunctions and destruction on the Nemesis. They were also the cause of the jail break and escape of his former second and child. 

Shockwave stood before him with no reaction to the anger that radiated off the Decepticon leader, “Had I returned him to you in the timeframe you wanted, both Starscream and the child would have died.” Shockwave explained which received an eye roll from the warlord. His thoughts held no regard for Starscream, not anymore. The child was his priority now, had he known from the start that his legacy was being forged he would have never let Starscream out of his sight. But the seeker was just as cunning as he was deceptive. He knew when to hide such important details from him. 

It irritated him to no end.

Which is why he wished he would’ve perished in the process of birth. Soundwave had retrieved most of the backlogged footage from the invasion and direct rebellion led by Knockout. Starscream looked like a mangled rat walking around with nothing but a couple of pedes to stand on and missing wings. A sight that made Megatron grin. The capsule that was sighted after Knockouts…egregious procedure…gave Megatron some hope for control. If he could just get that capsule, he could do much more with it. Train it to be more than just a Decepticon, but a leader and a betrayer. 

Which is why his disappointment and rage was present in extremity when they managed to escape through a bridge. But thanks to Soundwaves cunning skills, it didn’t take long for him to realize that they were sent to none other than Shockwave. Who dares to defy him at this mere moment.

“I don’t care if it would’ve created a blood bath. I gave you a direct order.” Megatron growled as he slammed his fist against the top of his throne. Shockwave stared, unimpressed by the display of violence, “You did not give me the direct order, you sent it through Soundwave. I declined.” Shockwave responded, uncaring of the way Megatron shifted and approached the scientist with a grueling look, “And yet you still defy me. Tell me Shockwave what is your reasoning for withholding my treacherous second and my child?” He asked and Shockwave took a moment to respond before continuing to stare at the leader. 

“To bargain.” He responded and that seemed to make Megatron take a slight step back, not expecting that response, but not disliking it either. He contemplated even accepting but Shockwave was a loyal mech and he stated that for a reason rather than deception. Megatron stared at Shockwave for a moment before glancing at Soundwave who had been watching the entire ordeal from the sidelines. Soundwave looked better than when Shockwave had seen him, frame was sheen as it once was, free from the injuries and scratches that were present when he visited his lab. 

“What are you wanting?” Megatron asked as he settled in his brief calmness, seemingly taking this at a decently level head. Shockwave was unable to tell what the leader was thinking. Purple optics stared a hole through the scientist but Shockwave didn’t falter in his response, “Assistance with my research. Resources, materials, whatever I may need to reach my goal. You will be given Starscream and the child within a due process, they have yet to reach a full recovery.” Shockwaves barter was a risky choice to make but he was willing to create a danger for brief control. Even if it meant putting his own life in the way.

Megatron seemed to contemplate his offer, as sadistic as he was, he knew Shockwave had more to offer than just the traitor that he harbored in his lab. It was his skillset that inticed the warlord into making a decision, "Then we have a deal. Give me a time frame, I will provide you the resources within your bargain. If you fail to withhold your end of the deal. There will be consequences.” Megatron stated with a slight grin, and Shockwave nodded, “A logical conclusion. I will compile a list pending your review.” 

Megatron nodded, compliant and seemingly satisfied with the conversation. Yet as Shockwave turned to leave, the warlord had something else to say, “Shockwave.” Megatron called back in a slightly ominous manner, “Don’t disappoint me. It would be quite disheartening to lose such a brilliant mind to such a small mistake.” The Decepticon leader chuckled with his statement and Shockwave glanced back at him, unwavered by his hostility. Something he had expected meeting him. 

“Understood.” He stated mechanically as he turned and left from the main deck. Soundwave followed suit, tailing the one-eyed scientist with a clear reason, “—you are putting yourself in harms way. Be logical—not dense.” Soundwaves messages rung out through his audials and Shockwave shook his head, “This is logical. I would expect much more complex understanding coming from you, Soundwave. This is more than just a bargain. It is a game.” Shockwave explained as he briefly stopped walking to look at the communications officer. He wouldn’t have told Soundwave anything hadn’t he known that Soundwave was having an inkling of doubt. 

The purple optics were signs of a difficult future. Not for just the Autobots but the Decepticons as well, “How long has he been consuming Dark Energon?” Shockwave was not stupid, there were many things wrong with the picture that was presented to him. Megatron was more than just a maniac in the making, he was jeoparding many of his current men with his decision making. Soundwave didn’t answer him immediately, maybe because he felt that Shockwave didn’t need to know. 

“—for a few weeks at most.” Soundwaves spliced audio was from a random human but the implications behind it felt wrong to Shockwave, in fact he knew it was wrong. Dark Energon doesn't just show its 'benefits' after a couple of cycles of consumption, it took many jours to have the amount of effects as it does now. Megatron was, on its own, a show of its testament of general and consistent use. No matter its drawbacks.

"A few weeks does not logically line up with your estimation. The amount of effects triggered thus far with Megatron's volatility and the blatant visible optic discoloration, it's impossible to reap the benefits of a fuel without it being in their system for a prolonged period of time. So tell me, what is the accurate time frame?" Shockwave did not move from his spot, staring down Soundwave, intending on getting his answer. Depending on the response, it would explain the sudden change of behavior from Megatron leading up to the defection of Starscream and his trine. It would also explain some abnormalities in the child as well. Soundwave was not intent on giving him an answer, but eventually decided that his best options were to be honest with the scientist, "Its been--Almost a year." Soundwave spit out another spout of random human interactions through his equalizer to match his response and although it was a revelation to know those details, Shockwave expected it. He just wanted to hear it. 

Soundwave seemed impartially uncomfortable. Revealing that their leader was slowly driving himself into madness based on a belief of power, whether or not it was true, was dangerous. Not to just himself but to the army that baselessly followed him. Megatron was becoming a mech that no one knew anymore and it scared them. As for Shockwave, he was unsurprised. At most he was trying to weigh the factors from the constant consumption. If Megatron had been consuming it prior to the knowledge of Knockout, and before Starscreams defection, it would've had a direct impact on Starscream due to the circumstances. Which also could've caused some changes in the childs genetic makeup. 

"Illogical, and foolish." Shockwave spoke out loud and Soundwave stared at him as he started walking away, presumably deciding that his work on the Nemesis was done, "—how is the child?" Megatrons voice garbled through Soundwaves mechanics and Shockwave thought it was odd that Soundwave was the one asking instead of Megatron, "She is fine." Shockwave remarked before motioning in front of him. Soundwave said nothing else and opened the space bridge for him to return. 

Maybe in some way he felt guilty for his actions, for his blatant support of Megatron, knowing that the damage he was inflicting was starting to affect everyone. Or maybe he didn't and he was just being courteous, after all Soundwave was a carrier himself. The cassettes were his children. 

Shockwave wouldn’t know the answer to that question. He didn’t care to know.

Optimus was more operational as the cycles neared his internal time limit. He stressed himself the more he was not actively working the console or out on the field, not actively holding some form of control. It was how he remained sane. It was how he remained calm. Distraction was calm. He had some leads, easier forms of communication. He knew where Starscream was and that’s all that mattered. 

He couldn’t recharge, he was failing at the ‘recovery’ aspect of his ordered action to cease directive command. He couldn’t help it, it had been this way for years, eons maybe. But in some form he felt thankful for his difficulty recharging as a encrypted ping with the message to request to commune came up in his HUD during one of the late nights. 

At first, he believed it was Starscream but the encryption codes provided by the seeker did not match and for several moments he didn’t respond, fearing it would be Megatron attempting to reach him. But when he finally did respond, he was greeted with a new message almost instantly. The anonymous sender did not properly identify themselves, instead the message they sent had nothing but coordinates and a comment that read, “You’ll find what you’re looking for there, Optimus.” 

As cryptic as it was and with little trust in what he was seeing, he felt he had no other choice but to hold some hope to believe that this was to push him a step in the right direction. Which is why Optimus was surprised when he was met with Knockout and Breakdown on the other side of a bridge at the site of the coordinates. Both mechs were extremely injured but Knockout was ready to fight at any given chance, standing between a discombobulated Breakdown and Optimus Prime. Knockout glared at the Prime with hesitance and glanced back at Breakdown, who grit his dentae as he tried to move. 

“Don’t move, you aft! You’ll only hurt yourself more!” Knockout hissed at him before redirecting his attention to Optimus, who was accompanied by Jazz and Prowl. They stood on either side of him, blasters raised and ready to attack if Knockout did anything stupid. Optimus had his arms remained at his sides, feeling a sense of deja vu at the situation, “We aren’t here to hurt you.” Optimus started and Knockout shook his head.

“Can it. I’ve got two pissed off bots trained at my head and you don’t want to hurt us? I’m not trying this today, Prime.” Knockout remarked as he glanced between Jazz and Prowl who didn’t seem to want to play any games. Optimus raised his hand to them but they didn’t immediately put away their weapons, “We are here to negotiate, not fight. Clearly, there are other things to worry about then just simple petty fighting.” Optimus sighed as Jazz and Prowl listened to the silent command after a moment. 

Knockout was not so keen on letting down his guard, “Negotiate? Negotiate what? Our lives? We wouldn’t give you anything.” Knockout snarled, irritated that this even had to happen. Even though he knew a part of it was his own doing, “Knockout..” Breakdown warned, sighing when the red medic looked at him, “He just wants to know where Screamer went. That’s all that they’ve been looking for. You know this.” Breakdown countered, trying to calm the speedster down. There was something more going on, but they didn’t know what.

“The hell am I supposed to know? He got sent through a bridge that I had no control over.” Knockout grated as he shook his head, stomping his pede as he waved his hand around, exasperated. His circular saw was still present which made Prowl and Jazz raise their weapons again. Optimus stopped them from going any further but Knockout was back on guard again. 

“A bridge? Was he and the sparkling alright?” Optimus followed up, attempting to redirect Knockouts attention, which worked. Knockout looked at Optimus surprised at his sudden concern but most of all his knowledge of the child, “You know about the sparkling?” He asked and Optimus nodded. Prowl was confused at this strange revelation about a mention of a child and glanced at Jazz who was none surprised. Jazz gave him a shrug and motioned that they will talk about it later. Prowl said nothing but was not happy about not knowing important information. Jazz ignored the feeling of guilt and focused on the situation at hand while Prowl said nothing else about the matter. But he didn't need to say anything for the others to know that he wasn't happy. 

"Do you have any idea where that bridge went?" Optimus pulled the topic back and Knockout sighed as he shook his head, "No, we encountered Soundwave when we tried to get him out. He destroyed the console before I could see where the bridge sent him." Knockout felt like his only choice right now was to go along with the Prime and what he wanted. At least for the safety of Breakdown. Optimus seemed a bit deflated from the information but was glad that Knockout was being honest with him now. Knockout seemed to feel the opposite but glanced back at Breakdown who was mostly indifferent to the entire ordeal. Optimus looked in Breakdowns direction as well, "If you wish to seek asylum with us, we can provide you medical support and some protection." Optimus offered and Knockout scoffed, "Considering Starscreams current position, I’m not very interested.” He gave Optimus a look as he walked back over to Breakdown.

“That was a different instance.” Jazz countered and Knockout looked over Breakdowns wound again to make sure it didn’t open and glanced at Jazz while he did, “Oh is it?” Knockout replied sarcastically, “Aren’t you supposed to care for your team or am I missing something? He was placed in your care and now all you have left are his brothers. Did you even think about your decision or did you blatantly do it because you wanted that human back?” 

Knockout was angry. Angry that he had to witness more pain be inflicted on Starscream. He thought the seeker was safe after he left, he believed that since Optimus was particular about his men, about their safety, he thought he would’ve cared. Yet the amount of sadness he felt when Starscream returned to the Nemesis was immense. The seeker had been held in a death grip by their leader, refusing to look at anyone but the ground. He could tell that Starscream felt in some ways the same that he did. Betrayed of what he believed was freedom. 

Optimus was unsure how to respond or feel, maybe he believed that Knockout didn’t know about the exchange, but telling by the red medics glare he knew very well, “What? Didn’t know I knew? We both knew!” He motioned angrily to himself and Breakdown, “We had to watch it! We had to watch you willingly turn over Starscream back to him!” Knockout shook his head, exasperated, and Breakdown grabbed his hand in attempts to calm him down. 

“You’re supposed to be the good guys.” Knockout sighed, squeezing Breakdowns hand as he kneeled next to him, “You may not be as bad as Megatron but you don’t seem to care about what happens to him. So why should we concern ourselves with your decisions?” Knockout refused to look at them but could feel the blasters raised in his direction.

Prowl and Jazz were back on alert from his movement, with weapons raised yet again. Optimus motioned to them to stand down even though he was unsure how to respond to Knockouts statements. He knew them to be true in some forms, he accepted the fact that he failed his team and he had failed Starscream the moment he made him go back to Megatron. They were Autobots, known to seek justice in passive ways. But what was happening these past couple of cycles did not, in any shape or form, show just how noble the Autobots were or could be. 

Optimus did not blame Knockout for his reaction and his outburst, "At least allow me to provide you supplies to help with your injuries. You don't have to return with us but Ratchet-" Knockout shook his head, "No. I can use the supplies but I can handle this on my own, I don't need that medics servos anywhere near me or Breakdown." Knockout felt he had to reason, even if Breakdowns expression held uncertainty throughout the entire thing. They both knew Optimus meant well, but the factors leading up to this point was too risky to take and it was better for them to remain rogues for now. 

Optimus sighed with Knockouts final decision but ultimately considered that this was the best option for everyone. The base couldn’t handle more mechs, especially not with the growing frustration from the others due to the seeker brothers who were becoming more and more anxious every day. Due to the circumstances, he reluctantly agreed to the basic terms that Knockout provided; he gets the supplies to help themselves medically in exchange for information and assistance. Prowl didn’t seem to keen to the idea but Optimus assured him that they would talk more on it later. 

When Optimus and the others left, he provided them two way communications for long distance. He was hoping in some ways that Knockout would change his mind but the look on the red medics face plate as they left did not help. On explanation, Ratchet was reluctantly kind enough to lend supplies to Knockout for use and although KO said nothing but a mild thanks, he got to work swiftly to help Breakdown, even with a malfunctioning servo.

“I can help you with that.” Ratchet responded bluntly setting, down the small containers of sharps, additives or other miscellanous tools. Knockout seemed more focused on Breakdowns injury and less caring about Ratchets offer, “I believe I was clear in saying I didn’t need help. Leave me alone.” Knockout responded, annoyed, but nonetheless took advantage of the tools provided. Ratchet scoffed with a slight sneer and left back through the bridge, leaving the two where they were. 

Breakdown tried to get some recharge but failed. He felt like everything that had happened was coming to a build and they were in the middle of it, “The point was to get away.” He muttered to KO as his optics onlined and he looked over the red medic, “Yeah, I know.” Knockout remarked as he continued use the supplies to properly bind the wound on Breakdowns leg and gave him pain blockers to help. Breakdown took them and gave Knockout a slight look, “I meant, away from them. Everything.” Knockout stared at him as he sat back on his aft, deflated and exhausted. He should’ve been angry, but his energy had already been wasted yelling at the Prime. He neither felt good or bad about it. 

“This plan was for all of us. If Starscream wasn’t dying I wouldn’t have decided to do anything. We would’ve been stuck on the Nemesis for another eon with no way out. You saw him, BD. He was getting worse.” Knockout started working on his own servo while Breakdown analyzed him before BD sighed again, “I regret helping.” Knockout looked at him surprised but his smile threw KO for a loop, “But I’d do again for you.” 

Embarrassment flushed his facial plate and Knockout tried to busy himself with fixing his servo, looking away from the lovable wrecker, “Shut up.” He hissed as a nervous smile greeted his features. Breakdown hummed with appreciation when he realized he broke through the halo of negative energy that was Knockouts mood.

Shockwave returned with a sort of urgency in his steps. Starscream was much too aware of the emotions behind a mech just by the way they walked, which is why he had no real desire to recharge. He had attempted but it failed, as his usual routine. When the one-eyed scientist came into view is when Starscream decided to sit up, unraveling carefully from the peaceful seekerling still curled up by his side. It was overdue for her to eat but he let her recharge for a bit longer, still glancing at her to make sure she was still very much breathing. Which she was. 

"You have six solar cycles." Shockwave greeted him with that information as he walked over and Starscream immediately he felt on edge, “Six cycles? For what?” He asked, sitting closer to Sunburst as if believing Shockwave would snatch her up if he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Six cycles before Megatron comes to collect you and the child.” Shockwave was mid sentence when he got sights on Sunburst still resting against the table. Starscream felt nervous, much more than before and unconsciously moved his servo to the front of her body, concerned for her safety, “You were supposed to notify me when the capsule opened.” Shockwave remarked as he walked towards him. 

Starscream scoffed and shifted on the table, wings flicking anxiously, “I’m not obligated to tell you anything, she’s my daughter. She hatched when you left and has been fine ever since. I’ll be feeding her soon anyway.” Shockwave stared at him blankly for a good couple of kliks before moving to closely examine her. Starscream pressed his servo against Shockwaves chassis as he approached and pushed him back with surprising ease. The one-eyed scientist said nothing for several moments, “You do not trust me.” He remarked, pointing out what seemed to be an obvious conclusion. 

Starscream couldn’t help but roll his optics to one side and shift back to where he was sitting upright, “Of course I don’t trust you, Shockwave. Allow me to remind you of your current experience, you have a line of bodies laying outside the door to your lab,” Starscream motioned with his servo to a darkened hallway behind him, one of which he didn’t tread, not even when Shockwave was gone. It was the origin of the deep seated stench that lingered in the area. Course and rotted energon that caked the floor neared rusted away and broken bodies of mechs that once had lives. It was the reason why the room felt stuffy, uninhabitable. But the air was still circulating and they could still breathe. The worst part being that Starscream felt almost nothing when seeing the bodies, like he was used to the death that sat in front of him. Or maybe it was because he didn’t know them, he wasn’t sure.

Starscream continued, ignoring the acknowledgement of the scent that threatened to remind him of why he needed to leave, “And you’ve been nothing but strange towards her since I walked through the door and now you’re being even stranger since she’s been hatched. So ‘pardon me’ if I feel threatened by your concerning interest.” Starscream felt even nervous saying most of his internalized thoughts out loud. He didn’t like voicing his vulnerabilities but when it came to Sunburst, he felt he needed to in order to protect her. He was stuck with Shockwave until the mech figured something out to help and as far as he knew, Shockwave could’ve been scheming for his demise from the beginning. 

His and Shockwaves past were farther than just soldiers and there were multiple instances where he screwed over the scientist for his own gain. Shockwave could, in any capacity, ruin his life easily. Something that he had already reminded Starscream the day he gained consciousness. 

The silence that came from the mech was more intense than any word that Shockwave could’ve spoke. There was something so different about this situation that made Starscream uneasy but also quite hopeful. Shockwave was not one to easily change his character to suit the needs of another, he liked logistics and linear mechanics. Linear circumstances, with one clear and predictable path than one that veered off. Which is why it was strange to see the one-eyed mech take a step back and move to one side of the lab. 

“What are you doing?” Starscream tried to break the tension, tried to wrestle a different direction of attention to something else, and hoping that his awkward display of anxiousness didn’t deter Shockwave to do something drastic. Shockwave didn’t seem to care but it was hard to read the mech from the outside and his EM field was nonexistent in the context of the space. All of which made Starscream jitter in place. He didn’t want to move. 

“You have six solar cycles,” Shockwave repeated as if Starscream didn’t already know, “I will be assisting in your removal. I suggest you facilitate your recovery at an increased pace otherwise you will struggle to make ends meet.” Shockwave explained, ignoring the blatant issues that seemed to come from their brief conversation. Starscream simply sighed and nodded as he lifted Sunburst into his arms for a feeding. She cooed from the motion and shifted in his arms which drew Starscream’s attention to her. While he wasn’t happy, stressed even, he felt some comfort in her existence. Even if he wasn’t satisfied in his situation, he would do what he could to make sure they got out safely. 

Chapter Text

Skywarp dragged himself across the brig flooring in a pacing pattern. The brig cell was more roomy compared to the Nemesis', although it wasn't really a brig per se. The room had more functionality than a cell and Skyfire's constant visits made it more like a guest room than a prison. Still, the lack of energy made them feel like it was hell. It been a total of two earth weeks since Starscream was returned to Megatron and the stress the felt was neverending. 

They couldn't feel him in the bond but it didn't entirely mean something was wrong, versus the times where he was close to the death, they would've felt something. But since his sudden disappearance, they've just felt a hole in the bond as if he was too far. 

Although they've had their share of outbursts, with Optimus' promises and the progress so far on their search. It was becoming a bit better than they had initially hoped, even if they were still upset at the Autobots for the initial situation, "How much longer do we have to wait?" Skywarp stated as he continued pacing, wings anxiously flicking up and down as he walked. Thundercracker glanced at him from his spot on the not-so-comfortable berth and shifted his wings so they weren't pressed against the metal, "I'm not sure, Warp. I'm as anxious as you, trust me."

Skywarp groaned loudly, servos coming to his face as he rubbed it, nervously dragging his digits across his own face, "This is driving me fragging crazy! He's somewhere out there alone! And the sparkling! Primus I can't even think about the sparkling!" Skywarp jittered in place and spun around to look at Thundercracker with a look of exasperation. Rambling was his only way to cope and Thundercracker was just a mindless listener as Skywarp continued on his unrealistic ranting, "Okaaay.. You're starting to sound like Blurr." TC sighed as he sat up and clasped his servos together, "Get ahold of yourself." He responded and Skywarp shook his head vigorously.

"I'm trying! Don't you see I'm trying?" Warp asked, pouting. Thundercracker leaned back and motioned for him to come to the berth, "Come here." He coaxed the purple seeker to come to the berth begrudgingly, dragging his pedes the entire way, "Don't you feel the way I do?" Skywarp was desperately trying to find some solace, comfort in the fact that his concern was necessary and Thundercracker just nodded as he enveloped him, "Of course I do, I'm seething." Skywarp melted into his embrace and Thundercracker sighed as he held him awkwardly, preening his wings to help the prankster relax. 

For a while, that's all Thundercracker and Skywarp did, until Skyfire came with their usual cubes. The cubes carried in one arm, he sauntered in with a smile and gave them the fuel, being patient with Skywarp who didn't initially want to move. Thundercracker was quick to down his, being a bit better with his fuel intake since their routines became regular, although it still felt weird without Starscream, "I have news. Good news." Skyfire started the conversation like that as the shuttle sat down near them. Skywarp perked up as he sipped the fuel and Thundercracker's attention was caught, "They've found Starscream. He's alive. He's on Cybertron with Shockwave. We're working on his retrieval." Skyfire explained. 

Everything that came out of his mouth became more confusing the last; Starscream on Cybertron with Shockwave? 

"Shockwave is still alive? I thought that mech perished." Skywarp asked, sneering openly, an expression that befit Starscream pretty well and Thundercracker held back a snort. Skyfire nodded, "I know, we thought so too. We are treating his existence with extreme caution, but he claims that Starscream is unharmed, along with the sparkling." The mentions of the sparkling made Skywarps wings quirk, "So... was it born?" He asked and Skyfire sighed, as if pained to know this information but he nodded shortly after. 

Thundercracker felt the same smoldering anger from before but he was quick to calm it before it became a problem for him and everyone else, "But he's unharmed you said?" Thundercracker asked and Skyfire was cautious in responding but eventually told them.

"That's what he told us." Skyfire crossed his arms, as if troubled to his own extent, "There is a lot we still don't know. It's clear that Shockwave isn't telling the truth, which is why we need to see Starscream and the sparkling for ourselves. Optimus is working on extrication but without a space bridge, its going to be difficult." Skyfire explained and the seeker brothers looked at each other. The only other solution that they could possibly come up with was Soundwave. 

“Soundwave.” Skywarp blurted suddenly and Thundercracker hit his arm which made the purple seeker jump, “What? It’s an option…” Warp mumbled and Skyfire looked between them with a quirked brow. He tried to understand their thought process and he figured it out pretty quickly.

“So.. you’re suggesting we go to Soundwave and expect him to just allow us onto Cybertron?” Skyfire voiced it slowly, as if disbelieving every word, which he did. Skywarp became more defeated with the tone that Skyfire dragged through the sentence, “It was an idea..” He whimpered and Thundercracker sighed with a roll of his optics, “It was a stupid idea. But yes, an idea.” He groaned as he pinched the bridge of his own nose. Skywarp glanced at him, unsure if he even wanted to continue. 

“You keep ridiculing me then I won’t speak my mind—“ Warp started but Thundercracker placed his servo up, “No, no. Keep talking. I want to hear this one. By all means.” TC kept an edge to his voice and he tried so desperately not to awkwardly smile because he had to refrain from blatantly laughing in Warps face. Skywarp wasn’t stupid and caught on pretty quickly and pouted as he crossed his arms, “Whatever! Soundwave has remote access to the controls of the space bridge. It was being built when we left, I’m sure it’s the reason why Starscream is on Cybertron now!” Skywarp started, seemingly engrained in his own explanation, “Soundwave would be able to get you to and from Cybertron, we just have to talk to him!” 

“Talk to him?” TC asked with a snarky tone, “Do you hear yourself? Soundwave doesn’t talk and he wouldn’t want to mingle with the Autobots furthermore!” Thundercracker laughed this time and Skywarp pinched the cusp of the blue seekers wing, making him shut up pretty quickly. TC’s amusement was replaced by irritation and Skywarp stuck his glossia out at him, “Now you know how I feel.” He wailed and moved back when the blue seeker briefly attempted to swipe at him.

“Anyway,” Skywarp continued and Skyfire listened. He seemed interested, at least partially understanding where he was going with all of this but still quite skeptical, “I was thinking… instead of the Autobots, why don’t we talk to Soundwave?” He asked, looking between his own brother and Skyfire. 

Thundercracker shook his helm, immediately disagreeing, while Skyfire was still slightly unconvinced but could see the possibility, “Alright… I’ll bring it up to Optimus. But I won’t guarantee anything, alright?” Skywarp felt he had won something and nodded with his partial excitement while Thundercracker shook his helm again, “Don’t encourage him. His plans are pretty bad in general. Look where we ended up.” TC flicked his wing to one side in annoyance and Skywarp gave him a slight look. 

“You don’t mean that. My ideas are good sometimes!” Warp countered and Thundercracker rolled his optics, “With doubt.” A statement that made Skywarp bare his teeth at him, “You’ll regret that statement.” Skyfire intervened before things got ugly and placed his servos on either side of them, hovering above their chassis but not touching them. 

“Alright, that’s enough. I said I’ll mention it and I’ll update you when he gives me a reply. For now, can we please get along? For the sake of Starscream. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you both fighting.” Skyfire managed to get the two seekers to calm down even though they were still glaring in each others direction. Thundercracker just leaned back on his servos and shrugged, “Depends on his mood, in one servo he could be interested in stopping us, in another he could care less about us fighting.” Skywarp nodded with his brother’s insight and motioned with his own servos idealistically, “It’s the Decepticon way to fight out our problems. It’s the way he would look at it.” 

Skyfire seemed troubled with that analysis, “Violence is not the only way to solve conflict, in fact it should’ve be the first option in the face of it. Whether or not you both have noticed most of the crew has had an issue with Optimus lately. But you don’t see the others attempting to kill each other over it.” Skyfire was a little skeptical telling the seeker brothers about the internal problems with Optimus decisional leadership, but nonetheless he worded it anyway. He wanted it to be a decent example but it seemed to have set a sour tone.

“Well, he’s the leader, most would have arguments or disagreements with him.” Skywarp countered and Skyfire couldn’t help but acknowledge the point that he made, “True. But you don’t see actions that Starscream took in Megatron’s leadership with Optimus, do you?” Skyfire prompted and that seemed to been a better analogy for them to understand. Thundercracker sunk into his disappointment though he tried not to show it, “No, we haven’t seen that.” 

Skywarp seemed a bit more confused but not entirely, “Why are the justice driven pacifists mad at their leader who is just as driven as them?” Warp asked, glancing st Thundercracker as if he’d know the answer and then back to Skyfire who seemed perplexed himself. 

He didn’t really know how to answer that, Optimus was a character that he couldn’t entirely understand as he didn’t know him. But he could argue that the Autobot leaders recent actions made it hard to recognize just exactly what was changing or happening with him. A lot of it could be explained by Ratchet, but even the medic was showing to be confused by Optimus’ decisions and behavior. 

“That… is a very good question. Unfortunately, Optimus is much too complex of a mech to properly explain how things have recently affected the others. Unlike Megatron, who seemed to be quite open with his aggression or irritation. Optimus does not voice personal ventures like that. In fact he avoids most conversation surrounding it.” Skyfire recalled the moments he had with the Prime leading up to this current situation. There had been a lot going on from the moment he met him, and he remembered just how held back the leader had been at displaying his feelings on any situation. 

Not all primes were stoic, but for some reason Optimus was and Skyfire had a hard time understanding that. 

Skywarp seemed engaged, at least partially, with the conversation. It felt alien to hear about the minor problems that came up on the Autobot side that weren’t related to the ongoing political crisis, even if some of it was more personal. Thundercracker had no interest in knowing about any of this but still listened. 

Skyfire felt the awkwardness creep up on him the more that the silence dragged on and he stood up shortly after, “Well, I’ll be going now. I’ll update you both when I receive word about Starscream’s status. Please don’t fight, I would appreciate not having to call Ratchet in here for the second time.” The shuttle stated as he walked to the door, the seeker brothers looked at each other and then at him but didn’t say much. Skywarp shrugged while Thundercracker didn’t really bother on a response. 

Skyfire, although not exactly happy on ending the conversation on that note, took his leave and locked the door behind him as he left. Hoping that these next few cycles would change their current situation. 

Sunburst had become Starscream’s new reality, although he was inexperienced and lacked any sort of history with sparklings, he enjoyed anything that the little seekerling managed to do. By the next couple of breems, Sunburst was able to voice her little opinions by babbling and cooing which amused Starscream to no end. She couldn't walk or crawl just yet, but he didn't mind holding her.

While Shockwave worked diligently on Primus knows what, with a very curt and distinct attitude he managed to keep himself away from any sort of engagement from Sunburst. The seekerling was still interested in what the one-eyed scientist was doing, even if her vision wasn't fully adjusted. Starscream worked on determining just what limitations that Sunburst had besides not being able to crawl or walk yet.

While Starscream attempted to gather information through datapads on what he needed for any sort of trip in the future with Sunburst. She was usually seated above his cockpit, curiously watching Shockwave work on some sort of CNA project relating to Predacons and dabbling in some Maximal signatures. He was mostly open with his research besides a couple of enclosed projects. 

Of course, he did take note of it though.

“I need weapons.” Starscream droned out monotonously, almost mimicking Shockwave who seemed unamused as usual. The protocols were unresponsive to any attempts to detransform his arms, like they were stuck in a boot cycle, and every pop up showed  The one-eyed scientist paused briefly before continuing his work, seemingly ignoring Starscream at first. 

“He scrapped my missiles and my arms are refusing to transform, unless you had something to do with that?” Starscream felt partially accusatory. Since their small argument early in the cycle, Shockwave has treated him with some mild contempt. Whereas before he was allowed to help, now Shockwave forbid him from touching anything that he wasn’t directed to use. The responses were mostly hostile in nature, although Shockwave could never really sound mad, he could only show it in his actions. 

“Your protocols were locked upon receiving you. It was a previous initiation prior to you coming here. It could’ve been done by the Autobots. Or done by Megatron himself.” Shockwave responded bluntly, “It is not of my doing.” He looked over at Starscream and it captured the attention of Sunburst who had already been interested in what he was doing. Starscream shifted Sunburst to where she sat on the table beside him, she cooed with the movement but didn't fuss when placed down. 

"Is she eating as normal?" Shockwave inquired and Starscream seemed reluctant to answer. It was much more personal than he felt but nonetheless he answered, "As normal as it can be in this place." A response that made Shockwave turn away from him and ignore the curious looks that came from the seekerling. 

Shockwave had a difficult time returning back to his usual procedure and stared at the data pad in front of him, "Megatron will visit today, I suggest you be compliant." Shockwaves statement was more of an order rather than a recommendation and Starscream gave him a look, although the scientist couldn't see it, "Why?" He wanted an answer to everything that the warlord did, the knowledge alone that he knew Starscream was there with Shockwave was enough stress for him. He wanted to understand the mech that Megatron had become, but he knew it was impossible. 

"I do not know." An honest statement from Shockwave, maybe he was just as nervous as Starscream. Though it was sentiment that Starscream could not decipher from the mech even if he tried. 

Sunburst babbled to get Starscreams attention which was almost immediately reciprocated. He tried to focus on her for most of his time in the forsaken lab. That’s what he was doing this for, if not for his own survival. He wanted to go back to his brothers, he missed them and he missed Skyfire. 

It was almost depressing in a way to say he missed the Autobots, but the hospitality was much different than from the the Decepticons. It would be no surprise if Megatron made attempts to harm him in some way now that Sunburst was free from his frame. Violence was no stranger even to the optics of newsparks. 

One thing continued to plague his processor as he coddled Sunburst was that his spark discoloration was not a coincidence. Shockwaves comments in the data pad cemented the understanding that there might’ve been something wrong with him that he wasn’t aware of fully. He debated for a moment on asking Shockwave himself, but also didn’t want to reveal himself to be deceptive as he was technically snooping through devices he shouldn’t have been.

Granted, the hiding spot was horrible. It was basically in plain sight.

Still, he wanted to know and must’ve realized he had been staring too long to notice that Shockwave had his servo held out with a bowl of small Energon cubes, “Take.” He stated when Starscream didn’t grab them immediately. 

The seeker promptly took the bowl and contemplated for a moment more before deciding to ask, “Shockwave, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. If you’re inclined to speak with me, that is.” He didn’t want the mech to be uncomfortable with his existence now that they had a disagreement but he also wanted answers. He was trying his hardest not to be forceful with his words, it was like biting back an urge that was usually impulsive on demand.

Shockwave continued working on his project and he only hummed as a response to the seekers willingness to conversate, “I found the data pad that contained a list of procedures you did on me during my time being incapacitated. It commented on my spark color, I thought metaphysics wasn’t something you dabbled in, at all? If any?” He prompted the question as more of a curiosity rather than an accusation. 

Shockwave didn’t seem interested in giving him an answer but indulged him anyway, “I’ve seen the affliction before but not in this context. Metaphysics is the only other explanation to it, even with how illogical it is.” Shockwave seemed frustrated with his own answer but didn’t show much more than that, “You shouldn’t have been searching without my directive.” 

Starscream couldn’t help himself but roll his optics as he shifted Sunburst in his arms. She babbled incoherently and mesmerized herself with the glass of his cockpit while he glared at Shockwave. 

“I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here. I’ve been looking for a way out but everything else that seems to hold me back are things out of my control. Are you going to explain to me what the color means? That Primus forsaken medic didn’t know and it’s been irritating me for cycles now.” Starscream huffed out, “If it has anything to do with these unconscious thoughts, hallucinations, whatever it may be. I don’t want to deal with it.” He spoke with his hand, motioning towards him as if he was willing the one-eyed mech to suddenly speak out his revelations. He knew Shockwave had more information but didn’t understand why the mech wasn’t telling him.

“Is Sunburst afflicted? Is that why you’re so against telling me?” He asked and Shockwave moved towards him, grabbing the data pad underneath the table where Starscream had left it. Shockwave threw it on the table beside him and turned it on. 

“No. Sunburst does not have the affliction that you have.” Shockwave gruffly stated before moving the information on the data pad. He settled on the same statistics that Starscream saw when it came to his spark, “The discoloration of your spark is a result of some sort of mutation during initial construction. It is not, however, related to cold construction.”

“Meaning?” Starscream had gotten at least one answer to one of his questions, “Meaning, there was another force at play while you were being created.” Shockwaves response still did not explain anything to him, at least not enough. It didn’t explain the strange dreams, or the mech that he kept seeing when he went through something strenuous. 

Though, now that he spent a moment thinking about it, he didn’t see the mech this recent time when Shockwave worked on him, “So are you saying I’m just cursed with something that Primus gave me?” Starscream tried to make sense of what was he even being told to him. Metaphysics relied on the concept of religion. To understand that Primus was the reason for the discoloration of his spark and this strange behavior is laughable at least. 

“That’s what the masses believe. But I’ve also done my own research into the matter personally. You were not the only mech I’ve seen that has had a strange discoloration of the spark, specifically in that color. The implications behind it, is what concerns me.” Shockwave still wasn’t explaining everything and he just wanted to wrangle the information out of him. 

Get to the point.

“I’m assuming you’ve had previous experiences or encounters with the metaphysical world known as ‘limbo’? It’s an Earth term mostly.” Shockwave documented the statistics from the data pad onto a graph and ignored the blatant confused looks from Starscream.

“Limbo?” Starscream felt inately stupid for not entirely understanding anything relating to the terms Shockwave was using. He may have been a scientist, but he wasn’t one diving into the surreal nature of Metaphysics and its implications. He understood on a surface level what it meant but didn’t truly comprehend what it was.

Shockwave showed a breakdown of the fluctuations as a result of the recent physical trauma caused by the injuries, “This graph shows spark fluctuations from the moment I started procedures. It jumps and then dips, as expected of traumatic event.” Starscream could feel a ‘but’ coming on, “However, based on your records, that I managed to retrieve from Knockout. This is usual of your… normal…. experiences.” Shockwave showed him other graphs, showing different instances where vitals had been taken or monitored, marked with dates in cybex. 

‘Normal’ was categorized as beatings. He was a natural stress relief for their leader, so trips to the medical bay were a constant. Still, there were instances unrecorded by Knockout. Instances that he wouldn’t dare speak out loud. 

“What are you getting at?” Starscream felt rigid, like he was sore again from moving. Whatever the answer was, his intuition was telling him he wasn’t going to like it, “I have a strong suspicion that your spark discoloration is linked to quantum immortality.” He remarked finally, placing the data pad down and staring at Starscream directly. 

“So what I’m unable to die?” He felt grossly wronged. Even the question coming out of his mouth felt unnatural to ask. He knew he was an odd one out when Skywarp and Thundercracker showed signs of a unique talent. They were quirks of their personality, given with perception and selected with compassion. Whereas Starscream felt he needed to work for his. He was different in the sense. He was normal, which was unnatural in relation to seekers. 

First, he was unable to reach his final form. Then, he was forced to live in the reality that he will always be the grunt of his trine. He felt sick to his tanks and for once he wished it was because of Sunburst and not his own emotions.

“In a way yes.” Shockwave answered him after a couple of seconds, he knew that whatever revelation that Starscream was living was difficult to come to terms with, "I've seen it before, perhaps while Cybertron was still operating as a planet, instead of a rock. But the usual cases resulted in eventual death, cease of function within the second instance of loss of life but it seems your situation is different. Which requires some attention." Shockwaves evaluation concerned Starscream to the point it brought him out of whatever daze he was experiencing, "I'm not going to be your science experiment!" He announced immediately, shifting back on the table although Shockwave made no move to approach him. 

"Although your affliction is curious to me, I won't be doing anything. There is too much at risk to concern myself with another project." Shockwave handed him a data pad from a pile in a box, it seemed random, disorganized, from his point of view but Shockwave knew what he was looking for. Starscream took the data pad reluctantly when it was offered to him but he was interested in its contents. Shockwave moved away from him, allowing him to relax. Sunburst's little servo touched the data pad with explorative curiosity, cooing at the color that it emitted, which made Starscream focus on her a bit more while also still keeping an eye on the scientist in his peripherals. 

"That data pad will have information related to the discoloration of your spark but do not be surprised by the vulgarity of its contents." Shockwave was uninterested in his reactions although his statement disturbed the seeker to some extent. He settled himself deep into his work again before speaking, "Megatron will notify me when he makes his visit, you have time." 

Starscream wished he wasn't forced to see the warlord if he could help it, but he took Shockwaves suggestion and read the data pad while coddling Sunburst in his arms. He wished salvation was closer and not so unreachable. 

There was some significant process in their findings. Tears in the Earths core that led them to fictional gold. Dark Energon was in abundance, much more than they initially believed. While vehicons worked mindlessly, Megatron consumed what was refined from their returns. Dark Energon coursed through every part of his being and he felt the power it possessed. He had already done his own tampering, experimenting.

He could feel the connection the Unicron as if he was just in reach. Even in the darkest of nights, he spoke to himself in the quiet of his quarters, hearing the voices of what he believed was the guidance of Unicron himself. It whispered to him, telling him that his wishes will come true, that he will defeat the burden that plagues his current position. Through whatever means.

He had done many things since the defection of his seekers. He had more vehicons produced to fit his needs; the Nemesis was repaired with utmost speed, and the mines were dug through for any remnants of surviving Energon scraps. Even old mining equipment was put to use. All the while, everything was oversought by Soundwave, who was quietly serving him loyally. 

Through the absence of his medic, he called upon a friend who was still functional. Excited as he may be, just as their arrival will be a turning point, so will Shockwaves. The existence of concern still plagued him even through the smog of intense mental fatigue. Shockwaves kindled efforts for a trade made him curious of the scientists intentions. While he had served him undoubtedly in the past, now there was apprehension and Megatron did not appreciate it.

He was willing to abide by the trade terms but it seemed suspicious in its own right. 

In his boredom, he overlooked the compiled list of symptoms that came with Dark Energon, one that Knockout provided to him before his inevitable rebellion. It listed a multitude of things; from extreme sickness to unstable mental cognition. The list seemed neverending but he scoured through every piece of information as each sentence piqued his interest with every word he read. He ignored the blatant physical ailments that he experienced, though they were still present even when he felt good on his best days.

There was one thing that confused him and made him even more curious of its cause. He could feel a strange tug, a tug from his spark, that whispered to him that he was not alone in his search for power. That his ailment was shared. To what? He didn’t know. He was unsure if it was a result of the unspoken bond with a sire and a sparkling. He knew the child was born, and was alive. But he believed that it could be something far more vitriol than that. 

“Soundwave.” He called for the mech who was hidden away at the consolette near the control panel, typing away at a speed he could never match. When his name was called, he turned to look at the warlord. 

“It’s time to pay the traitor a visit.” Megatron spoke indignantly, uninterested in seeing Starscream alive at this point. He stood with a sigh, purple optics shining brighter than before. There were many things running through his processor, ones of mild rage and annoyance. Shockwaves teetering loyalty was questionable at best, and there were many things he wanted to do to that seeker for even existing within his reach. 

His emotions were becoming uncontrollable. He believed it was because of the increase of Dark Energon. It made him nervous, but also excited him for the future of his cause. 

They were on the brink of conquest and his child was the key. He just had to get ahold of her and everything would change. 

He couldn’t help the smirk adorned his face as Soundwave opened the bridge for him. Even as him and Soundwave walked through the particle bridge, he kept the display of emotion, he wanted Starscream to know that he was not safe, he never will be.

He will always be within reach. 

Chapter Text

Megatron's visit was brief as it was unenjoyable, he was uncomfortably close to Sunburst for most of its entirety, making sly remarks to Starscream during the duration. Soundwave was also apart of this visit, sitting idly in a corner while Megatron familiarized himself with Sunburst. Starscream had hoped that he and Sunburst would've been out of the lab by this point but he forced himself to accept the current reality even if he held back any snide insults he wanted to dish out.

Sunburst—on the other hand—chirped at Megatron, unaware of the deep seated problems that the warlord had and the potential danger she was in. She was curious of him and no doubt had some inkling of familiarity with him, as he was her sire. Megatron, optics glowing deep purple, smiled at the small seeker hybrid with a hint of mischievousness and some mild disappointment but he could see the similiarities of himself within her, "What did you name her?" Megatron asked, digits touching her small helm with a curious glance. The cowl reminded him of his younger self, while parts of the body was inexplicably Starscreams strong genetics.

Starscream debated on giving him a false name, but he settled on the truth when he determined that the warlord held no deception to his blatant interest, “Sunburst.” He responded with a guarded expression. Megatron seemed to process the name and glanced between Starscream and Sunburst, “Sunburst.” Megatron repeated, tone shifting to a low rumble as he tilted his head at the small seekerling. Starscream was unable to tell if he liked it or hated it, not that it mattered. Still, a part of him was piqued on Megatron's opinion of her chosen designation.

Starscream kept minimal distance between himself and the warlord, unsure and paranoid of what Megatron might do. He concerned himself with a sudden thought; believing that Megatron would mark his superiority by changing or giving her a new name if he somehow managed to grab hold of her permanently. His own designation was not his own, which settled in Starscream’s core about the facts of Megatron’s past experiences. Megatron had never been Megatron for all of his existence, but he wouldn't put it behind him to say that the warlord would've more than likely attempted to change Sunbursts name. Starscream didn’t want her to be taken, let alone her identity be rewritten because Megatron wanted to spite him.

“It’s cute. Fitting for now, unless her colors develop and the name seems brash against her designation.” Megatron’s statement was partially a compliment but also an insult. Starscream scoffed at the complexity of it, “There are plenty of mechs with designations that did not fit their color scheme. It’s not a defining issue.” He felt like this entire ordeal was mundane bickering, but thats because it was. He wished in the early stages of his and Megatron’s development into crude politics that their relationship was like this; as simple as bickering. 

As much as he loathed the mech, he did miss the brutality with his honesty that didn't involve violence. Had Megatron acted in a way that wasn't aggressive leading up to everything, maybe Starscream would've chosen a different path than where he was currently. But he had to remind himself that he had put himself in this hole and Megatron was apart of the reason why he was in this situation. It was a hole he was just going to have to claw his way out of.

Megatron said nothing for several moments, though he wanted to make a remark. Starscream could see it on his face. He was holding his lips in a thin line, an expression he made while he was thinking. It only appeared like that when he was frustrated with the response he received, he didn’t like it but had no comeback to argue it. Starscream felt some kind of way to it. Even in a senseless craze, his habits were mostly the same, which was concerning. It was even more crude to realize that Starscream blatantly remembered them. Another aspect he was 

Deliberately, Shockwave approached them with a creeping silence. He said nothing besides the loud thumping of his pedes to announce his presence. Perhaps he felt that Megatron’s time was up and/or that he had overstayed his welcome. Most of the beginning of this sudden visit was hushed conversation between him and the former gladiator. Uncomfortable silence and dragged tension were all that remained until Megatron finally got to see the ‘reason’ why he had visited in the first place. Even with his brash comments and constant vehement hostility towards the seeker carrier, he remained at a comfortable distance from Sunburst in order to allow her to be sensitive and curious on her own terms. That’s how it remained for most of the time with him. Though Shockwaves sudden interruption made for an interesting encounter.

Megatron tore from his thoughts, greeting the scientist with a bland look, “What is it?” He was irritated, although nothing was happening at the moment with him and the seekerling. Sunburst babbled and peered up at Shockwave, who paid no mind to the small sparkling. Contrary to his determined ignorance, Sunburst still cooed at him to try and get his attention and when he didn’t acknowledge her, her wings flicked upwards in confusion. Starscream ran a digit across her back to distract her, which worked, and she turned to him with a giggle, grabbing the digit with a latching grip.

Shockwave presented a data pad with a list of items that Starscream couldn’t read, not that he cared. Megatron accepted it, disgruntled by what he was looking at but otherwise nodded his head and subspaced it for further review. Before he stood, he looked to Starscream and Sunburst. Mainly eyeing the child, he extended his servo, lax and unthreatening. Sunburst looked at the—now intrusive—servo with interest and touched his digits, more of a bapping than a full latch. Nonetheless, Megatron showed no visual signs of interest. He watched her for a moment longer before bopping her forehead with a singular digit, “Till we meet again, little one.” He pulled his hand away as she reached with both mini servos for the impending digit, just barely missing. 

Megatron’s optics returned to Starscream, who had been watching him keenly with a sharp gaze. His optics were bright red, showing his focus on the warlord with intent. A sight that made Megatron grin with a malicious undertone. He liked the defiance, he liked seeing the fire in his former second-in-command. Thats what he was used to. Thats what he knew and it disgusted Starscream to see the blatant disregard for his current condition.

Maybe in some life, he wouldn’t look down on him so worthlessly. And maybe in some life, Sunburst would’ve been conceived in a forgiving way. 

In a different life. With a different sire.

But Starscream was hoping for shattered dreams and unrealistic visions. Things that didn’t exist. Which is why he felt some form of relief when Megatron and Soundwave left through the bright colored bridge portal. He could in some way relax, but even so, with Megatron’s presence he felt every ounce of restriction, self-discipline, slipping. He had hoped he was better, hoped he had finally started to heal. The fear was powerful, even when he didn’t do anything brash. Just the existence of him in the room was enough to feel like he was choking on air.

“Breathe.” Shockwave interrupted his thoughts with a blatant order and he hadn’t realized that he was shaking. Trembling even. 

Sunburst whined, confused on her carriers emotional state, the bond warbled with his emotion and Starscream tried to get it under control. Shockwave was holding her, he didn’t even feel her weight was gone from his arms which upset him more than his own emotional distress, “Breathe.” Shockwave repeated, grabbing the silver seekers arm with a tight grip, not enough to hurt but enough to ground. 

Starscream grabbed onto his servo, clutching it and finally got himself to calm down eventually. When he did, Shockwave was quick to return Sunburst to him and was even quicker to walk away. Starscream wasn’t offended, he didn’t care. He held his daughter close to him, coddling her small body and listening to her cooes. Sunburst held his digits, trilling, attempting to soothe him in her own way, trying to understand the distress he was in.

“I’m okay.” Starscream muttered to her, placing his helm against hers, “You don’t need to worry about me.” Shockwave worked at his own pace nearby and when they settled he spoke again, directed towards Starscream, “Two solar cycles remain. I suggest you prepare.” He sent Starscream a ping, a message with multiple threads of conversation and a brief mapping display.

It was a conversation between Shockwave and Optimus Prime.

The forest was a very bland place, it was especially bland at night. Skyfire walked with them through the trees, careful of any wildlife and careful of the trees themselves. As much as it was brought upon during their time around the Autobots. Most of Thundercracker and Skywarps concern was maintained even before the war. Sentiment was held for everything, a lecture that was engrained in their processors from the brief class they endured during their study with Starscream. 

It was boring. As most involving him was. The class was a direct reflection of the current wave of calculated violence against the Cybertronian wildlife. Wildlife that had been crucial to the environment. It was a boring but necessary lesson. But Earth? Earth was much different yet similar to the life on their home world. They had no real understanding of what was essential and what was not. Though it had never really been enforced, with their custody under the Autobots, they were sure to watch their step. Especially with the wandering of humans. 

“This is the place,” Skyfire stopped suddenly, making Skywarp and Thundercracker stop behind him. Cuffs clinked quietly and Skywarp was the one to shift uncomfortably.

The area was hidden, covered in foliage and bushes. But most of the general landscape was clear, far from rural civilization. Humans weren’t going to be harmed in this endeavor, and that’s all that mattered to the Autobots. 

“The briefing was set for this place, generalized but still accurate. We have two solar cycles to perform this and our main concern is that Megatron will catch wind of this extraction.” Skyfire was thorough in his words, he explained everything with a soft tone but a firm underline. He expressed his sternness through his hands and face, motioning to the area around him as he spoke. Skywarp and Thundercracker followed as they thought back to the briefing.

The briefing was discussed with everyone, amongst other things. It had already been revealed after the meeting with Knockout and Breakdown that there was much that the Autobots needed to know about the situation with Starscream which made it dire. Most reacted just as Optimus expected, angry and confused. While others understood the reasoning behind the secrecy, one of the main reasons being that Optimus was concerned about unnecessary violence or altercations that he did not want to happen. After that had settled, the discussion was mostly confirmations on updated information as well as communications with a mech that knew of Starscream’s whereabouts and coordinated a plan of action. 

Optimus was very vague about revealing just who he was coordinating with but they chalked it up to some sort of agreement on the other end. Optimus didn’t affirm or deny the statement as such. 

They had two solar cycles to come up with something, as it was clear there was much more going on if they had problems with the sudden shift on Megatron’s side. A sentiment that was lamented by Optimus himself. The shift in aggression was noticeable, and the progression of the vehicons became more pronounced as the cycles went on. They were building something, but they didn’t know what. 

“Is there a way to know if they have the equipment able to transport him?” Thundercracker asked as he stared at the open area. He ignored the breeze, as much as it triggered his need for flight. They weren’t allowed until Starscream returned. Skywarp was more skiddish on that fact alone, the twitching in his wings gave him away. 

Skyfire said nothing at first before shrugging, “I wouldn’t know. The information Optimus relays is minimal, all we know is that he will be dropped off here and we need to be ready.” Skyfire seemed skeptical of his own words, and Thundercracker could tell Skyfire was just as nervous as they were. Skywarp only nodded with the statement, "Alright then... we should just return I guess?" Skywarp asked cautiously, staring at their cuff links. Thundercracker visibly sneared, baring his teeth at ground. He hated feeling so useless, especially in times like these. The only thing that was surmounting to something was his and Skywarps direct involvement in the extraction process. 

It meant something to them to be able to be the first ones to see their brother again.

"Yeah, it's best we head back." Skyfire motioned with his hand as he commed in for a bridge. The glare of the green bridge portal strained their optics as they walked through. Skywarp and Thundercracker let the uneasy sinking of the particles shifting sink in, and they were back in the Autobot base. 

Just two more solar cycles. They can make it.

Adrenaline. Pure unadulterated adrenaline. Starscream hadn’t felt it since the fight with Megatron, that is, until now. His pedes hurt, strained with every step but he continued to run. He couldn’t transform, not with Sunburst seated inside his cockpit, it was the only safe place he could think of.  

Shockwaves predictions were off, not entirely but off enough to make him feel like he was fending for himself. He could hear the air rippling with vehicons that were scouring his nearby location. The bridge was supposed to be a blip on the radar, yet it was almost like they knew what had happened. 

Starscream ducked underneath a large tree, waiting for a moment to cool his heating frame. His body had gotten used to the recovery process that exercise to his joints seemed like a war crime. The Earth air made his internals feel like he was poisoned but he knew he was going to be okay. He could just hear Skywarp telling him he was being dramatic. 

More aerial units zoomed across the sky above, rustling the leaves of the trees as they went. He starting moving again when the last bout of aerial vehicons came screeching by. He ran until he felt like his legs were going to collapse. 

How in the world did this even happen?

.
.
.

The cycles passed much faster than Starscream expected. He had spent most of the breems feeding Sunburst with what little fuel he was given, and trying to search a way through the internal equipment lock to gain access to his weapons that failed to show when he tried to transform his arms. He was struggling to keep up with the quickly passing time. One thing was for certain, he was about as good as dead without any way of defense. Shockwave wasn't of any help during this entire ordeal, in fact he avoided Starscream like the plague. It was clear that the scientist just wanted him gone at this point. He was silent for most of the time until the last ticking breems of the sixth cycle came around and he was gripping Starscream’s arm like a lifeline, dragging him to the deep catacombs of the lab. Starscream could barely keep up, pedes unable to clamber after the larger mech while holding a sleeping Sunburst. 

“We need to move. Now.” Shockwaves statements were stout, to the point. He turned down corridor after corridor and let go finally when they made it to a one-off room down a pathway that was close to no-man’s-land (At least that’s what Starscream dubbed it). It was dark, but the smell from the lab didn’t follow them. It was more stuffy than anything. And cold.

Shockwave touched a panel to a far wall, servo expertly pressing and sliding buttons that Starscream couldn't read, and the lights kicked on with a screeching whirring noise. Electricity crackled with prolonged disuse and Starscream debated on stepping back. Soon, the energy evened out and the sound wasn’t so loud. Shockwave said nothing as he approached a shadowed object and pulled a long draped tarp off of a piece of machinery; revealed to be a makeshift space bridge. Clearly built from scrap supplies and shifty machinery.

“It’s one-use. This is the third prototype and I’m confident in its reliability.” Shockwaves statement almost made this entire ordeal laughable, “Oh really?” Starscream scoffed that sounded more like a half chuckle, he couldn’t believe that, not when he was staring at something that could collapse on him just by breathing a little too heavily.

Shockwave didn’t seem pleased in his reaction and only motioned for him to approach the device, “You have less than a few breems. I’ve notified the Autobots of your escape. They will be expecting you.” The statement seemed odd coming from his vocal modulator and Starscream tried to ignore the bizarreness of it. Nevertheless, he tucked Sunburst into the recess of his cockpit, still idly snoozing away. She was unbothered by the sound of the whirring and their talking, having gotten used to the loudness of not only her carrier but Shockwaves lack of recharge. 

Starscream had to trust him, as what other choice did he have? 

He almost regretted every choice made when the machine came online and he had to jump through just to make it in time. The bridge snapping shut behind him when he fell onto soggy Earth grass.

.
.
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Familiar crackling shrouded the air and Starscream picked up speed when a shot came down on the ground next to him, smoldering the grass and dirt, “Slag!” He huffed out, stumbling to one side before gaining his footing and continuing to run. He accessed internal maintenance menus, he needed something. Anything.

“Come on. Come on.” He skimmed through sub-menus that weren’t as important to him at that moment until he saw ‘MANUAL PROPULSION OVERRIDE’ and he was quick to activate his disabled thrusters. Though it had been a good minute since he’d flown in any capacity, it came back to him swiftly and he was much faster than he was on his pedes. He ducked through the trees for density, making sure he wasn’t visible from the sky, and listened for any more sounds of soaring. 

When he heard nothing he started running again, this time using his thrusters as leverage. He weaved through trees, fighting exhaustion to get to a different place, away from the madness that was the Nemesis fleet. He didn't want to think of how many vehicons were searching for him, much less what Megatron’s reactions were.

He kept going, flying through until his body gave out near a small clearing, making sure to land on his back. Wings jittered against the dirt as they caught and Starscream held back a hiss. 

Sounds of running pedes made him jump up slightly and immediately extend his servos, as if he still had his claws. But the dull reminder that they were no longer there was apparent and it looked like her was cowering instead.

“Star!” Skywarp came rushing towards him, enveloping him in a tight embrace enough to where Starscream had to push him back, “Be careful!” He hissed, releasing some of the tension he felt from the adrenaline. Skywarp was briefly confused by the reject of his affection but changed his tune when Starscream pulled Sunburst from his cockpit to inspect her for injuries. Thundercracker approached with Skyfire in tow, behind them Bumblebee and Arcee were spread out partially, weapons drawn ready to fight if needed. 

Sunburst wailed at Starscream, unsure of what was happening, both upset at the fact that she was thrown around inside his cockpit but also glad to see him.

“I know, I’m sorry sweet spark.” Starscream cradled the seekerling in his arm as he was being helped up but Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker grinned, although he wanted to make a remark he held it back, “So this is the little one we’ve been hearing about so much.” The blue seeker peered at Sunburst with cautious optimism. Skywarp on the other hand was bouncing in place from excitement, “Oh my gosh she’s so cute! You were going to be a seeker! I knew it!” Warp spoke so fast he could’ve rivaled Blurr. Starscream couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a slight smile, even though he was so incredibly happy to be near them again.

The small celebration was cut short with the sound of a clearing throat catch their attention, Skyfire stood awkwardly off the side but gave them a small look, “We have to leave, it’s still too dangerous out here. I’ll notify Optimus that the retrieval was successful.” Skyfire motioned with his servo as a ground bridge appeared near them. 

Starscream was quick to leave, walking through the ground bridge with a slight fastness to his steps. More trusting of With Sunburst cradled closely to him and his brothers following behind, he beelined it to Ratchet, ignoring his own exhaustion to make sure Sunburst took no injuries from the brief encounter. 

Ratchet expecting the silver seeker, immediately sat him down and took up the small sparkling with quickness when offered, “I don’t see any visual markings or scrapings, I’ll do a scan to make sure everything is perfectly fine.” Ratchet spoke as he sat Sunburst on a small table and did a remedial scan with no apparent results which was a good sign. 

Starscream smiled at the results, relieved that she was still very much healthy and unharmed. Much more tension lifted from his shoulders and for once he allowed himself to relax briefly. He didn't even realize that his frame has eased backwards and his optics had begun to dim. In one moment, he was upright on the berth smiling at his daughter and the next he’s waking up with a patient monitor attached to his forearm. 

Skywarp was nearby, holding a sleeping Sunburst and perked up when Starscream stirred, Thundercracker looking over as well, “Before you ask, Ratchet already diagnosed the problem, Energon deficiency due to prolonged fasting. I’m assuming for the little one. You’ll be fine after some well deserved fuel.” Thundercracker explained as he took hold of Starscream’s servo who squeezed it back.

“I missed you both.” Starscream mumbled as he sat up, Thundercracker and Skywarp both smiled at him, “We did too.” Skywarp commented as he handed Sunburst back to Starscream. She cooed but didn’t wake and curled into his arms. 

The moment of peace was cut short by the entry of Optimus and Ratchet. Ratchet clambered his way to one side of the medical bay, while Optimus stood near the door. He refused to enter further than needed which Starscream respected. 

“Starscream,” The Prime greeted with a curt nod and Starscream returned the motion, “Prime.” He responded back, unsure of how this conversation was going to veer. Optimus was more verbally unpredictable compared to Megatron whereas most of his actions were physical and readable, “I wish to speak with you at some point regarding your status. But I hope to do that when you are properly examined.” Optimus spoke again and Starscream couldn’t help but dread any future encounters with Optimus himself. 

He was glad he was back in the remnants of safety, but any conversation with the Autobot leader was either mix of serious concern or serious boredom. And both are not ideal to be around.

“I understand.” Starscream sighed, shifting against the berth to get comfortable. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since his repairs and he couldn’t help but feel grateful to be in a cleaner environment, “I will leave you all to your devices, please notify me when you’ve been properly treated.” Optimus didn’t wait for a response and turned on his heels, leaving with a slight drag in his steps. He could tell the Prime was exhausted.

Skywarp got up after a moment and looked at TC with a slight expression, “I think it’s best we give you some alone time. We’ll wait for you in our room, comm us if you need anything.” Warp held out a hand to TC and they walked out together. The quickness in their departure made Starscream think this was all too intentional. Ratchets expression that followed made Starscream realize that it was. 

“We need to talk.” The medic started and Starscream couldn’t help but roll his optics, “It seems like most do, spit it out.” He was done waiting for the inevitable conversations. In any other instance, he would’ve appreciated the attention, the sense of urgency behind knowing him and the extent of his knowledge. But now that he had faced death in one way or another and with Sunburst in his life; he just wanted to crawl up in a corner and resume his life in peace, without the war holding him down. 

Ratchet shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “I did a thorough examination on your frame while you were unconscious, which I know is going to cause a stir with you but it was precautionary.” Starscream wanted to bark out something, anything like an insult but he held his tongue, “I noticed something about your spark again that concerns me. It changed colors.” Ratchet brought up a display for Starscream to see. His spark, which was a deep red before, had now turned a light orange instead and while extremely faint, there appeared to be a slight glow of something inside it. 

Starscream had tried to ignore what Shockwave had told him cycles ago, that his out-of-body experiences were somehow linked to Quantum Immortality, but he couldn’t. It dreaded in his processor like the cybonic plague. Infecting his core and making him fear for the future. If it were true, he had a lot of explaining to do.

“Strange,” Was all he could mutter and Ratchet nodded with his words, oblivious to the mental turmoil this was causing him. 

“I want to look into it more but nothing in my internal archives are giving me any answers. I’m hoping that maybe speaking with Optimus about this would bring some new insight.” Ratchet had spoken it out loud, as a prompt for permission to spread the information to their leader. Optimus being aware might bring some new knowledge to his infliction but Starscream wasn’t sure if he was ready to have more than a small conversation with the Prime about his medical mystery. 

Starscream didn’t really know what to say but Ratchet didn’t push further, removing the patient monitor and giving him a small look, “I’ll give you time. You should spend time with your brothers and the sparkling. I expect regular check-ups with you from now on.” The orange medic sternly stated as he motioned to the door. Starscream nodded and held Sunburst closely to his frame as he stood up. 

Ignoring his anxiety, he returned to his brothers and Skyfire in the separated quarters. Having been upgraded from the brig, Skywarp and Thundercracker had at least improved since the notice of extraction and with Starscream’s successful retrieval, they were taking care of each other again. 

When he came into the room, both seeker brothers were curled up on the berth asleep. Skyfire sat idly by, mainly for security purposes, and smiled at Starscream when he entered. 

“Star,” He greeted quietly. Starscream snorted a bit, finding humor in Skyfires self-awareness to speak in a low volume, although no amount of loud noise would wake those two seekers from their heavy slumber. Skyfire shifted off of his chair and approached Starscream, looking at Sunburst with a certain fondness. 

A fondness that made him wish that Skyfire himself was her sire. 

Starscream purged the thought immediately, bashful of his own selfishness he looked away from him. Skyfire motioned with his hand to a small makeshift cot, “Ratchet said these are the closest to the original designs from Cybertron, we guesstimated on the size but seeing as how she is still quite small she should fit. But we can always make adjustments as she grows.” Skyfire explained softly, watching the silver seeker look over the small cot with mild interest.

It was put together with better craftsmanship than Shockwave, although the mad scientist had one servo whereas Skyfire had two. Though the intricacies in the design made Starscream almost pout and the more he looked at it, the more he realized that Skyfire was the main bot to work on it. 

Although the material was mostly shoddy, made of steel parts and panels, the metal was carved in symbols reminiscent of Vosian architecture. He lightly skimmed over the etchings with a concentrated touch and dimmed his optics in remembrance. He missed Vos greatly and this was at very much a gift to him as it was to Sunburst. It felt almost ritualistic to place her inside the comfy cot and watch her curl into the small space, making it her own. 

“Skyfire… this is..” Starscream had a hard time finding words, “Beautiful… thank you.” The phrase almost felt foreign, he hadn’t thanked someone in a long time and to feel so genuine seemed unrealistic. He hadn’t felt genuine admiration in that moment, more towards the creation than the creator. He didn’t know what to feel towards Skyfire. 

In one servo, he longed to reach out to him, envelope himself in Skyfires arms and never let go. In the other, he wanted to shut himself away, reminding himself that he was never the first choice for anyone, not even himself. 

But the former was so enticing. 

Especially when Skyfire had that reverent look on his face, the one that only seemed to appear when his optics lingered on the seeker, admiring him. The one he knew very well. Which is why he couldn’t help himself but to reach a servo out to him, and why he was so pleasantly surprised to see Skyfire return the gesture. Cupping his servo with a soft squeeze and a tender smile that could shatter any defense. 

It made him freeze. Starscream couldn’t look away, he had trapped himself there. He couldn’t move. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, why he was so enticed to do anything. Maybe he was ill again—so violently ill that he couldn’t think of anything else, anyone else but him. Maybe his experiences disrupted his sense of reality, his burdens to weigh, because when he finally decided to move, he didn’t know why he leant up towards him. 

He only knew that the kiss felt great.

Chapter Text

He tried to forget the kiss, a momentary lapse in his judgement. He knew in some aspects what he folded himself into doing was allow himself comfort in the mech he once knew as his lover in the past. Although the conjunx bond had somewhat fizzled out, replaced with the bond of his trine mates, it still made an appearance around Skyfire. It reminded him of what he had lost eons ago and told him to be careful. 

But he failed to hold any discipline against his indulgence. Skyfires affection grew tenfold, and in the quiet corners of privacy, Starscream couldn't help but reciprocate—hesitantly at first, then with more certainty. It was easier to give in behind closed doors, where the past felt like a soft echo instead of a sharp reprimand. Still, he was uneasy. If his brothers knew, they'd likely mock him, or so he thought. In truth, he wasn't so sure what they'd do anymore. In this new faction with its strange freedoms and looser boundaries, they were changing, unlearning the stiffness Megatron had beaten into them. Back then, mockery was safe armor against vulnerability. Now, without Megatron's ever-watchful optics, Starscream wasn't sure where their loyalties lay or how they'd truly react.

Time had passed since his return to the Autobots, many things had happened both inside and outside the base. Optimus had given Starscream some time to relearn how to forgive, although it was still a work-in-progress. They planned on speaking about more serious topics when Starscream decided to spare the Prime a moment. On the topic of Decepticons, Megatron was quiet since his coordinated escape with Shockwave. Decepticon activity was at a stand still—at least on Earth—and that factor never left the seekers mind. Being so close to his former leader, Starscream was forced to learn the warlord psyche on a regular basis. So the collective silence from the Decepticon army was something that made him nervous. Megatron was always scheming in some form, even in the absence of mining. 

"Mama," The sound of a small voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the origin. Sunburst was not entirely grown to her full spurt but the seekerling was making ground to be taller that him. She had gotten into the habit of calling him 'Mama', a word that she had learned from being exposed to the humans, not that he minded. It was about as close as her calling him carrier and he was fine with the 'Mama' alternative. 

He leaned down to pick up the—still relatively small—child. Sunburst giggled and precariously placed a kiss on Starscreams cheek, "Mama," She repeated and he nodded at her with a small smile, "Yes, sweet spark?" He returned the kiss, placing it on the top of her helm and gave her his full attention, "Big Si helped me flex my wings, they don't hurt as much anymore!" She babbled on and he nodded with her words. It was only recent that Skyfire decided to be a constant in her life aside from his brothers. She was the one who decided on calling Skyfire 'Big Si' as a way of recognizing him and Starscream had tried to correct her at moments, but he gave up relatively quickly. 

Although the conversation about her actual sire was going to be brought up, one way or another, Skyfire was taking care of her just as much as a sire would. Starscream didn't ask that of him, he assumed the role himself, alongside his brothers who were adamant that they were the ones who should teach her everything she should know about being a seeker—although Starscream tried to remind them that she was not just a seeker. Most of his vocal interventions were met with deaf audials. 

“Oh really?” He gently touched the small wings that had gotten wider and longer since her growth. There was some soreness due to her unfamiliarity with them but she got the hang of it, even if they were still malleable. Her colors also started to show, seemingly taking on dark gray and silver colors with some red accents. She was becoming her own self and he was excited for the future. 

Sunburst nodded with interest and stretched out her wings to show the full mobility, it impressed Starscream and he gave her a kiss on the helm for her progress. He set her down shortly after when she became antsy from being held and waddled off to find something to do, opting on returning to his quarters to bother Skywarp and Thundercracker.

Since the return, there has been more than a couple jours that have passed. Due to negotiation and the plan to speak in private, Optimus had removed them from their cuffs, although they were still on a probationary status. Skyfire became the trines permanent probationary officer and they were given a room of their own, which included Sunburst and her small cot. Amongst other things, Starscream had yet to experience the strange limbo incidents again but his dreams have become vivid. What once was black scrapes of nothing turned into vivid swirls of scenery that he never recognized. 

It was always desolate no matter if his visions were filled with color or darkness. He didn’t understand what was going on or what was being shown to him but he wanted to. 

“Starscream,” Optimus’ voice was loud, demanding in his audials. A thrum of seriousness and exhaustion behind his tone. Starscream didn’t even realize that he had gravitated to the Primes office. He stood outside the open door with a nervousness and didn’t take a step in. It reminded him too much of the incidents on the Nemesis so he didn’t move.

Optimus stood, approaching the silent seeker with confusion but understood in some way that this was his way of saying that he was ready to talk, “Come with me.” Optimus prompted, sliding past Starscream and walking into the command room with a steady rhythm. Starscream followed, watching every pede-fall. The syncope of Primes steps were apparent, a habit that was unconscious to the former second when he had time to observe. Optimus was physically exhausted and perhaps mentally as well. A fact that concerned Starscream in some way.

If the Prime was becoming more tired as a result of the war, perhaps Megatron had more of a fighting chance than he believed. 

Optimus opened a ground bridge, the green portal lighting up and the same tell-tale sign of the air shifted. His wings twitched with the sudden pressure change but he followed Optimus through the bridge and watched it close behind them. The surrounding area was woodland; beautiful in the summer with the sun rays peaking through the high trees. This area was dense enough that they could stay hidden underneath the leaves. 

Starscream chose to say nothing, he had no sense of direction when it came to conversation, and there was much to talk about, “I brought you here for the peaceful atmosphere. I go here when I am.. struggling to find some sort of navigation through the world.” Optimus continued walking, careful with every step and slipping through trees with ease. His mask was disengaged, but with the angle that Starscream was in he couldn’t see the Primes face. 

“I suppose Earth nature can be peaceful.” Starscream remarked quietly as he looked around a bit more. Due to the heat, the wildlife wasn’t entirely scarce but there were still some animals roaming. Birds and insects alike still populated the area with their coos and chittering both high and low. It was neither loud nor soft and it felt slightly soothing. 

Optimus came to a stop in a clearing with a clear water river. It was flowing freely, fish roaming in its habitat, unaware and uncaring of the world above. Starscream stood beside him, “What is this about?” He asked, he felt skeptical of Optimus. His demeanor was strange, that much was apparent.

“It’s about the terms of your stay.” Optimus took a seat near the river. He patted beside him but Starscream didn’t move. The Prime didn’t seem offended, “I thought we already had talked about that.” Starscream crossed his arms, staring at Optimus before looking out to the trees. He quelled any mild irritation, even if he felt that this conversation seemed to be leading in some direction. 

“We did,” Optimus started and he sighed, visible tension relaxing from his pauldrons, “But there is more we need to talk about. You’ll be coming up to a year in our custody—in our ranks.” He corrected himself, he kept reminding himself that things were much different and there was a reason why he was speaking to Starscream now.

Starscream still didn’t sit, even with the silent insistence from Primes gaze, “I spoke with Shockwave, I’m sure you’re aware. He told me that he notified you.” The ominous undertone of his statements made the seeker cower in on himself, he didn’t like where this was going. 

“I’ve been told of the irregularity of your spark, about the dreams. The.. visits.” Optimus tried to choose his words carefully even though Starscream felt betrayed with every one. He didn’t lash out, though he wanted to. He reminded himself of the constant remedial therapy he had put himself through to control his fits of anger and self-deprecation. So, he didn’t say anything. Even though he wanted to.

“I know the reason why.” Optimus spoke his statement in almost a whisper, as if not wanting his own words to be true, “What is it?” Starscream choked out, gritting his dentae with a hard grind. He had done his own blatant research with the clearance he was given, searching through data files of nothing but pure useless information unrelated to his condition. He knew of one thing. One thing he didn’t want to say out loud. One thing he didn’t want anyone to know. 

“The Matrix, it speaks to me at times. When it wants me to know something, whether it be for guidance, or in ways maybe I could use their teachings for something in a situation.” Optimus explained himself slowly, in a way that he wanted Starscream to understand, “It told me of this force, a pull that I could sense, something that I didn’t understand until not very long ago.” Optimus continued to watch Star’s expressions with a forlorn look, “The irregularities. It’s because of the Allspark.” His words didn’t make any sense.

Starscream shook his head, “You’re not making any sense, my spark has something to do with the Allspark? The device that saves the planet from extinction?” He scoffed, and then laughed, “That’s funny. How absolutely humorous. You’re being crazy.” He wanted it to be a joke, something that he could just brush off entirely. But the seriousness on the Primes face told him that it was more than a joke, it was a reality.

“H…how does that even work?” He stuttered through his disbelief and Optimus looked away from him to give him his space, “I believe that your spark contains a piece of the Allspark. Which explains your refusal to die.” He spoke monotonously, as if expecting where this conversation was going to go. To hear it from Optimus felt more like a punch to the gut than to hear it from Shockwave. Both were intelligent in their own rights, but Optimus' input sincerity hurt more.

Starscream paced in his spot for a moment, collecting his thoughts and trying to understand how it could’ve even happened. Optimus was nice enough to provide him the silence he needed before he spoke again, “How many times Starscream?” The question seemed out of the ordinary, and the seeker didn’t immediately know what he was talking about.

“How many times for what?” Starscream stopped pacing to watch the Prime look his way. Instead of the anger or some sort of disgust he expected, pure grief and sincerity met him instead.

“One of the symptoms we’ve noted from the history of ‘deaths’ is the increased time it takes for revival and recovery. This most recent recorded death was.. long. Longer than anticipated.” Optimus didn’t ask it outright, didn't name what they both knew was being discussed. His voice was carefully neutral but Starscream could feel the undercurrent—the hesitation, the quiet search for truth beneath formal phrasing. 

There was confusion for the course of his years alive, during the extent of his time in the start of his career as a Decepticon; as second in command to Megatron. When he believed Skyfire had perished in the cold fronts of Earths atmosphere and he had decided to push through his extreme grief, he thought he could handle the differences, the climb he had to make to reach the level of respect that he desperately wanted from Megatron. There were times where he felt he wasn’t good enough, that the one mech who believed him to be was dead and no longer breathing to tell him that he was. 

It was the reason why the first time felt so surreal. Death was peaceful when he greeted the void. And waking up in the middle of his habsuite with nothing but his cold frame and a low tank warning, he thought it was luck. He thought it was cruel luck. That Primus hated him and that's why he was alive. 

The second was out of disbelief and anger. The third was because of Megatron. 

He should have stayed silent. It would’ve been easier to mock the Prime’s cryptic words than to engage them. But the past scraped like rust under his plating, “I know,” Starscream said, the words crawling out of him like something half-dead, “Three times.. before the most recent deaths.” Starscream hated how small he sounded answering, how it cracked at the edge. Mechs didn’t talk about this. They weren’t meant to. Not about failing to stay offline—about choosing the void and being denied it.

There was no judgement in Optimus’s silence. Just… stillness. Presence. Starscream found himself clutching his own arm without realizing it. He looked away, optics dimming. “The first time, I thought it was peace. It felt like the world had finally gone quiet. Waking up was worse than the dying." 

No interruption. No sermon. Just that steady field brushing against his own—warm, but trembling slightly. Like he wasn’t the only one who had felt that void cradle him like a promise. 

"When Skyfire didn't return," Starscream whispered, “I told myself I’d survive. That I’d rise. For him. But Megatron—he never saw me. Not the way that Skyfire did. Every cycle after that, I was just a tool trying to look important.” Starscream didn’t elaborate, he didn’t want to nor did he want the Prime to know his expansive history with Skyfire. But Optimus didn’t question him. He didn’t say anything, even as Starscream let out a bitter laugh, “And tools break.” 

The phrase itself was openly dry, as if admitting to the fact that there was much more going on than just physical abuse. Admitting that something was wrong and realizing it. 

The Primes frame curled tighter, hands folded like they could hold together something threatening to spill out. Although he didn’t understand everything, he understood some.

“Don’t be ashamed of your decision to seek out Primus.” He spoke it with a certain tenderness, sugar coating the true meaning behind Starscream’s past choice. But the way he spoke about it seemed like he knew, or had some familiarity with the subject. 

Starscream finally took his seat next to the Prime, finding comfort in the way Optimus was huddled in on himself. Ashamed of something he hadn’t yet revealed. But Starscream felt like he didn’t need to guess. Maybe he wasn’t alone. 

“At some point in my existence, I felt that I didn’t belong. Just as you did.” Optimus muttered softly, staring longingly at the fish that swam in the clear water. A reminder that he was bound and the longingly to be freed returned to him. To be freed from the burden that lie in his chest, “The pain I felt, it felt like it was never going to go away.”

Starscream did not mock or chide, listening intently to Autobot leaders whispers of tangible sorrow. It was palpable, it could be eaten in one breath. 

Optimus Prime was not entirely the Prime in this moment; the warrior that fought against tyranny. No, he was just a mech in this moment and it was clear to Starscream that Optimus was entirely unused to vulnerability that the expression on the his face was almost neutral, disassociated to the environment around them and for a while neither of them said anything. They sat in the comfort of each others presence while listening to the sounds of nature. 

"I can't guarantee that it will go away, the pain will stay for centuries.. eons. It will shape you, but you have to mold it to become stronger. You have to keep moving forward. If you don't it will become harder to keep taking that step." Optimus spoke softly, as if trying to find the words. There was blatant empathy in his words and Starscream refused to look at him even as Optimus stood. 

The Prime sighed, joints creaking with his weight and Starscream could feel his gaze on him, "I will give you time, return to the base when you are ready." He remarked before Starscream could hear the sound of heavy pedes turning and walking away until they were distant. Leaving with him was the warm EM field that comforted Star in his uncertainty. 

He didn’t know what to do or what to say, Optimus knew half of his truth. He didn’t know how much else would be revealed, he didn’t know if he could handle it. 

Starscream sat there for some time, contemplating his thoughts before finally standing and leaving the safety of the nature filled sanctuary. 

“Keep looking.” Megatron’s booming voice cut through any moment of silence, his optics wide and glowing with an intense purple. He was angry, dragging extensive work orders without break. 

The Nemesis was returned to its original working order with Soundwaves expertise. The mech was slowly deteriorating over time. And with a wide spread message; speaking of tyranny and avid dreams of extremist ideology, it was becoming clear that Megatron had been more deranged than he believed. 

But sudden surprise was not unusual to Soundwave, not even when Tarn made an entrance on their landing strip, field brimming with excitement and malicious enthusiasm. Megatron was ecstatic, happy that not only for their medic spot being filled once again, but that they had ample fire power with Tarn and his crew. 

Soundwave had no say in the matter of keeping them or discarding them, even if Tarns appearance made him uncomfortable. They were in all operations, expeditions involving mining or otherwise simple tasks, Tarn was there. Megatron’s delirium was not seen as psychopathy to the mental manipulator, no, he was seen as some form of saint. Regarding the utterance of voices that Megatron claimed to hear as divine intervention and that he should seek it out.

Am I the only sane one?

Now they stood among a cluster of forgotten planets, in a distant galaxy tethered to their dying home world. Beneath the crust of this desolate moon lay what was rumored to be a catacomb of doom—an ancient grave, perhaps even a remnant of Unicron himself. Soundwave had long understood the dead better than the living. And it didn’t take a scientist to know that disturbing the corpse of a god—dead or not—wasn’t wise. But logic had little place here. Not with Megatron’s beliefs driving them this far into the abyss.

Silent and unmoved, Soundwave stood on the moon’s dust-caked surface, watching as Vehicons scraped through layers of brittle rock. Tarn paced nearby, his steps erratic with purpose, his energy coiled like a wire pulled too tight. 

"Soundwave," Tarn said, his tone laced with mockery more than curiosity, "Is this too dull for you?" The fanatic circled closer, but Soundwave remained impassive—no reaction, no sound. Silence was answer enough. Though it took an avid thought to prevent any sort of annoyance to seep out through Soundwave's frame, he didn't want it to spill into his tightly wound EM field. But he knew that the echospawn was achieving some sort of relishment in the way Soundwave reacted. 

Tarn's movements became rigid but his glee was hidden by his mask, enough so to the point where Soundwave caved in some way and glanced at him. Tarn was keen on details and tilted his helm towards the silent mech, "I wonder, do you ever miss making noise? Or have you forgotten the sound of your own voice in all that loyal stillness?" More provocative language spit from his mouth and Soundwave wished it to end. 

"Suggestion: —mouth should remain closed. Usage amplified in silence." Words sputtered from Soundwave's equalizer, an old spliced recording of his voice during the early battles of the great war. It's use here felt appropriate and to see Tarn's physical surprise through body language was gratifying, but the emotion was fleeting and the zealot was back to psychologically scheming in a matter of kliks. A laugh bubbled in a sinister tone, escaping from the edges of the mask. 

Tarn's laugh faltered, just slightly—a hitch in the rhythm that only someone attuned to the Decepticon fanatic would catch. The mask tilted, narrowing on Soundwave with clinical interest. "Recycling fragments of history," He said, voice calm but taut with derision. "How quaint. And here I thought you lived in the present, Soundwave. Perhaps nostalgia is all that remains when your voice is no longer yours."

He stepped towards the silent mech, slow and deliberate, EM field curling inward in a controlled flare. "But I'll admit—effective. For a relic." His tone sharpened on the last word, meant to bite. 

"But tell me, was that quote before or after you started recording corpses instead of commands?" Tarn only stepped back when Soundwave continued to ignore his patronizing remarks. The visor irritated him, and made him want to impulsively rip it off. A thought that Soundwave was aware of and moved away from him. He disguised his discomfort with curiosity as a Vehicon pulled back from the terrain roughly, out of horror.

Tarn's interest was piqued as well, stalking behind the communications officer with a keen optic. Below the surface of the moon, etched into the crust was markings old as time. Spirals of opened mouth teeth and rustic decay. The opening to the catacomb was more of chasm than an entrance, the interior was more murky than expected and Soundwave could feel the poison from the its casing seeping up his frame. 

He stepped away from the impending chasm, "Clear away— determine a perimeter and set up posts." Dread coiled tight in Soundwave’s frame, heavier than any data-load he had ever borne. Even as the Vehicons dispersed, spreading themselves across the fractured terrain, that feeling clung to him—an oppressive pressure he couldn’t name. Tarn's delight radiated like heat from a fire too close to extinguish. But to Soundwave, this was no discovery. It was an omen.

The sensation followed him, all the way back to the Nemesis. 

His warnings, however precise or encoded, fell on deaf audials. Megatron was unwilling to listen to anything the second in command had to say, a realization that came with the position it seemed. He was unable to tell if it was the result of his delirium or he truly did not care for Soundwave's intervention. Instead, Megatron was ecstatic at the findings, relishing this as a new beginning and a turning point for their edge in the war.

Soundwave disagreed but his opinion did not matter to the warlord. An issue he had come to learn was continuous since the beginning of his consumption of Dark Energon.

“I warned you.” Shockwaves response was guttural, rumbling monotonously. He was uninterested in Soundwave’s approach, even as close as the silent mech stood to him. 

Soundwaves irritation flickered off of his EM field, emotions were tensing underneath the calculated hold he kept them under and it was getting more difficult to control them. Shockwave had no reaction it, rather he ignored it, “Megatron will only become worse in his psychopathy. If he wishes to dive himself into the erroneous world of Unicron then he can swim.”

Soundwave didn’t move. The tension in his EM field buzzed sharper, tighter—like a wire being pulled too far. If Shockwave felt it, he didn’t acknowledge it.

An old, glitched recording played from Soundwave’s modulator, fractured and echoing from long past: “Warning—acknowledged. Failure—compounded.” Soundwaves visor flared faintly, and then he spoke—not through borrowed voice, but his own. A rarity. A line drawn.

“Your logic: inaction. Your solution: abandonment.” Soundwave punctuated his words, as if holding back his disdain, “Unacceptable.” His field surged once—sharp, accusatory. A burst of silent rage controlled just enough to avoid becoming violence. Then: silence again.

Soundwave’s helm tilted slightly. He leaned in—not with aggression, but with emphasis. Each movement was weighted, deliberate. “You helped him build this empire. Now you look away.” Shockwave did not turn, no matter how much weight each word held. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to react, he did. 

Another recording played, clipped and warped from an old Decepticon broadcast—Megatron’s voice: “We are the architects of a future born from will—not weakness.” A beat. 

“Unicron is weakness.” Soundwave added, voice low and reverberating. He shoved a data pad into Shockwaves servo, data collected from the chasm, when he forced himself to go back. To listen to the warbling signature that it radiated, the whispers, the poison. The string of data that sat in front of Shockwave was extensive and reading through it solidified his disbelief. 

Soundwave forced him to listen to the recording, it was staticky but the words were clear, “…The void has teeth….” It echoed through the lab, whispering into the walls. It reminded them both of the crisis that was the spark eaters.  The impending whispers, the unstable field created by the chasm. It was all too familiar. 

Shockwave had long halted his progress, staring at the data pad with a new purpose, “Interference with a cosmic entropy vector—such as Unicron—is not conquest. It is annihilation. A deviation from Decepticon intent." Shockwave stated and Soundwave held back any remark he wanted to make. Making the scientist realize that this issue was not one-sided but a universal problem, took more than just words. Soundwave knew that more than anyone, but it didn't mean it didn't frustrate him.

"What will you do?" Soundwave asked at last, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them like a magnetic field on the verge of collapse. Shockwave didn't answer right away. Defiance wasn't in his nature. Calculation was. Logic. Control. But that had all changed the moment he'd helped Starscream escape—with her. The sparkling. 

He remained still for a moment longer, visibly caught in internal deliberation. Searching. Calculating.

And then something shifted—subtle, but sharp. A realization. As if a circuit in his mind had finally connected, or a cord had snapped.

"The sparkling." The words escaped him in a hush, but they carried weight. "The child... she radiates an anomaly," He muttered, "I felt it. When I helped them escape—I dismissed it. But it's there. Unstable. Familiar. And Starscream... he knows. He refuses to acknowledge it. He's in denial." Soundwave watched carefully, trying to parse the sudden urgency lacing Shockwave's tone. 

"She's the key." Shockwave said again, louder now—almost to himself. "The key to something far beyond us." Before Soundwave inquire further, Shockwave was already moving—crossing the lab with a sense of determined purpose. He approached the table where Starscream and the sparkling, Sunburst, once rested. His servo reached beneath the console, retrieving a data pad tucked discreetly away. The screen flared to life. Data—layers of it—unfolded in rapid succession. Biological strings. Spark resonance logs. Protoform code. 

Shockwave swiped quickly through the tabs, until two sets of data illuminated the display: Starscream's... and Sunburst's

The data string wasn't extensive, but the readings were... off. Unnatural. Unlike anything recorded in a normal birth. Unlike any typical protoform activation.

"Unicron's blood is in her protoform matrix?" Soundwave's voice was low, disturbed as he read the data pad over Shockwaves shoulder. The implications clawed at the edges of his logic processor. Shockwave only glanced at the mech before tilting it slightly in his servo, as if the information should speak for itself. 

"She is the key to Unicron." He said, voice devoid of its usual clinical tone—tinged now with something darker. Regret. "If Megatron acquires her, if she is retrieved... she could bring about the end the universe. Her purpose is predetermined. She is fated to be our extinction." 

Soundwave recoiled at the cold finality in his colleague's voice. His response was swift, resolute. "She is a child. She did not choose this purpose. She had no choice." The notion of offlining a defenseless, innocent sparkling made Soundwave's EM field bristle with fury. He had raised his cassettes for millennia—Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy—all his children in everything but spark. He had fought to protect them. Watched them grow, glitch, and mature. And now, Shockwave proposed terminating another young life... simply for what she might become. 

Starscream may have bought his freedom with a heavy cost—but the child, Sunburst, had no say in her creation. No choice in what flowed through her energon. She was born into a fate not of her making. To condemn her for that alone... was nothing short of barbaric.

"There must be a another way." Soundwave said firmly, voice modulated but edged with urgency. "What you're proposing—Starscream will never accept it. Nor will the Autobots. They would stop you before you ever reached her." Shockwave didn't look up, but his fingers slowed over the datapad. "They would see if as an act of war," Soundwave continued, taking a step closer. "You would not only provoke Starscream's retaliation but risk uniting our enemies against us." 

Still no response. Only the quiet whir of data processing. 

"Even Megatron would oppose this," Soundwave added. "She is the monarch to Unicron's reawakening. You said it yourself—her existence is tethered to him. If Megatron believes she can be used, he will protect her." Shockwave's single optic flickered, a giant pulse of thought crossing his frame. 

Megatron would save anything if it was of use to him. Sunburst's purpose was of extreme use. If he were to attempt to take her life—to destroy her—he would have to go through her sire. And Shockwave was not interested in a duel to the death. 

Soundwave remained silent for a moment longer, watching him, searching for any sign of relenting, "You do not have to carry this burden alone," He added more quietly, more sincerely. "You saved her once. You hesitated—for a reason. Do not let logic erase that." 

Shockwave finally turned from the screen, his expression unreadable. "I did hesitate," He said. "And in that hesitation, the probability of universal collapse increased by 4.7 percent." He stepped away from the console, datapad still clutched in his servo. "You speak of enemies. Consequences. Morality. I speak of inevitability." His voice deepened, darkened. "If we wait too long... she will activate. The bloodline within her cannot remain dormant."

"And if you're wrong?" Soundwave asked, low but sharp.

Shockwave paused at the threshold of the lab's exit, "I am never wrong." With that, he exited, leaving only the fading hum of the consoles behind. 

Soundwave stood in the silence, processor racing. He looked at the glowing string of data still active on the screen—Sunburst's spark signature flicking like a pulse in the dark. 

A child. 

A key. 

A threat.

He didn't know which terrified him more.

Chapter Text

Multiple Cycles Later...

The silence in the Decepticon ranks had everyone on edge. 

For a time, the absence of conflict was welcome. The energon mines left behind had been easier to extract from than expected. No raids. No ambushes. No shadow looming above Earth. It was... peaceful. Too peaceful. Even the humans had begun to notice. And when they noticed, it meant one thing: Fowler would show up.

"Prime!" Agent Fowler's voice rang out like a poorly tuned engine as he stomped his across the upper catwalk, frustration flaring with every step. He'd come for answers—but instead, walked into something unexpected.

Knockout and Breakdown stood at the center of the control room, visibly roughed up but standing. Ratchet knelt beside Knockout, who was directing him with sharp, precise gestures that made it clear he didn't want the help, but needed it anyway. They had long ran out of supplies, running amok amongst the wild and with Breakdown's ever growing discomfort from his arm. They had no choice but to return to the Autobots. 

Fowler slowed, eyes narrowing. The Decepticons weren't restrained. They weren't even being guarded. A factor that made the agent mad, it was another thing that Optimus didn't tell him about. 

"What in the sam hell is going on?" He barked, hands braced on the rail like a man ready to leap into a firefight. Knockout didn’t even flinch. He tossed the human a sidelong look, optics glowing with barely concealed contempt. 

“Oh good,” He drawled, “The ape has arrived.” Fowler bristled with the insult and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Watch it, cherry chrome. You’re lucky you’re not in pieces right now.” 

Knockout scoffed and turned back to Ratchet, muttering, “Not nearly luck enough.” Ratchet only spared a glance  towards the overly hostile red medic but didn’t comment as he continued to provide aid to him and Breakdown.

Optimus approached calmly from the far end of the room, his steps deliberate. His expression unreadable. His frame was dulled but he still stood tall. Something about him seemed off but no one could put their digit on it, “Agent Fowler,” He said evenly, “Your arrival is timely. We were just beginning to piece together what happened.”

“I’d like to know what happened.” Fowler snapped, gesturing broadly toward the two former Decepticons, “Last I checked, they weren’t exactly guests.” Optimus took the brunt irritation from the FBI agent, knowing full well why he would be upset. 

Breakdown, silent until now, glanced at Knockout, then at Optimus. His voice was low, “We came here because we were attacked. Not by your Autobots, not by any of ours.” That silenced the room for a beat. 

Ratchet stopped mid-scan. Optimus tilted his helm. Fowler straightened, slowly. “Attacked by who?” He asked, arms crossing over his chest. Breakdown’s gaze dropped. Knockout, for once, wasn’t quick with a quip. “We don’t know,” Breakdown finally muttered, “We were enroute to a older site, trying to scavenge parts from a defunct factory. When we were ambushed.” 

“Describe them.” Optimus said, watching them carefully. Observing their facial expressions.

Knockout met his optics. His voice dropped a register, “No faction insignias. Their armor was unmarked, but—old. Etched with… scars. Symbols. I recognized nothing.” Breakdown nodded with Knockouts words before adding his own, “There were three of them. One of them didn’t speak. Another recited our entire war record—exactly.” That statement made Ratchet pause. 

“They didn’t ask questions,” Knockout continued. “They judged. Whatever they were, they believed we’d already been tried.” He shifted where he was sitting, servos resting against his own abdomen. His optics flicked between Optimus and Breakdown.

“And sentenced.” Breakdown added grimly. Fowler didn’t seem entirely convinced but he didn’t backpedal them, “So, rogue Decepticons?” He tried to make sense of what could possibly be happening but he still didn’t like that the two were in the Autobot base. They already had enough Decepticons in their respective location, they didn’t need more. 

“No,” Knockout said, too quickly. “No Decepticon I know kills like that. One of them tore through the factory walls with his claws—like it was foil.” Optimus took in the information with an open processor. He travelled through his memories, trying to spot differences in the mechs he’s met, but memories blur together and it because harder and harder to differentiate. 

“They let you live,” Optimus noted, “Barely.” Knockout muttered, resting a servo on a scorched mark across his side. “I think they wanted a message delivered.” Breakdown rested a servo on his while Ratchet began work on the other servo. 

Silence settled over the room, heavy and slow. Optimus didn't move at first. When he did, it was with mechanical slowness—like a system booting late. Ratchet's optics flicked toward him, but said nothing. "You believe these attackers will return." Prime finally said and Knockout nodded, "They weren't hunting us. They were cleansing."

Optimus' expression didn't change, but a flick of static passed across his optics. Subtle. Barely perceptible. Ratchet noticed, "Optimus—" He started, "I am fine." Prime interrupted, too fast. Fowler looked between them, suspicious. "You don't look fine."

"I said I'm fine," Optimus repeated, tone measured—but his servo lingered near his chest, just above the Matrix housing. A faint pulse of light flickered beneath his armor. Then vanished. He turned away from them all.

"We need to be prepared," He said. "For what's coming." Fowler narrowed his eyes at him, trying to decipher what he would mean. What this entire situation would mean. "And what exactly is coming, Prime?" Optimus didn't answer right away, concerned for the future. He needed answers and those answers weren't going to come quickly enough. Not until they knew who exactly was attacking them. 

"Something we haven't faced before," He said quietly. "Something old. From the early war."

The Nemesis remained in holding pattern, locked above the massive chasm that had become Unicron's tomb. Vehicons guarded the single entrance—silent, unmoving sentinels bracing against whatever might stir beneath. Megatron had descended only once. The incandescent wave of energy that met him inside had struck like a wall--hot, dense, and oppressive. It clung to him like a burial shroud and the warlord had no idea that he was hallucinating. 

The void welcomed him. Too easily.

It greeted him with everything he had once craved: vengeance, silence, recognition. Corpses surrounded him—those who had defied him, doubted him, mocked him. Piled high like trophies. In the center stood Optimus Prime. Optics dim. Frame unmoving. The Matrix no longer in his chest. It was in Megatron's servos—gleaming, lifeless, conquered. A trophy of final triumph. Ripped from the righteous frame of the last obstacle. He could smell the energon. Thick in the air. Copper-slick against his servos. Familiar. It reminded him of the arena. Of cheers and slaughter. Of purpose. But then—there was a sound. Not the crowds. Not his enemies begging for mercy.

Chittering.

It echoed in the edges of his processor, like insects crawling beneath his cortex. High, brittle laughter. Mocking. Endless. He turned—but the darkness had no shape. Only teeth. Only hunger. The Matrix dimmed in his hands. And Megatron did not know if he had screamed—or if the tomb had only swallowed the sound. 

He reeked of energon and ancient dust when Tarn dragged him out. Megatron's plating was scorched from within, traced with fine cracks of raw energy that pulsed faintly under his armor. His optics flickered as if caught between code strings, as if he was overheating. His frame didn't fight, didn't speak—he merely existed, as if still somewhere deep inside the tomb, listening to something the rest of them couldn't hear. 

Tarn bore the weight of the warlord like it was nothing—like carrying a relic. He said nothing as he laid him down in the medbay, kneeling for a breath longer than necessary. Nickel stood nearby, arms crossed, tools at her belt, optics narrowed. "He shouldn't have gone down there alone," She muttered. "He wasn't alone," Tarn replied, voice quiet and reverent. He spoke like a divine fanatic, "The pit welcomed him. And he returned... touched." 

Nickel shot him a look, unamused and unforgiving, "Touched? He looks slagged, Tarn." Megatron was not one to take a dying blow and forget about it, much less allow himself to be dragged through a life-sized shredder. His plating was scratched, scuffed and burnt. None of the injuries made sense and his mental capacity was also drifting, based solely on his facial expression and optics.

"I pulled him from the brink. He walked with Unicron." Tarn looked to the unconscious Megatron with dull optics. Silent curiosity brimming at what exactly Megatron saw or heard. "Or he walked into a spark seizure and got microwaved by dark matter radiation. But sure. Divine communion, let's go with that." Nickels skepticism was not met with a snark answer, instead Tarn said nothing. He simply turned and left the room with quiet, dangerous grace. 

Nickel sighed, running a scanner over Megatron's frame. The readings were incoherent. His spark signature was erratic—worse than erratic. It was... layered. As if something else had brushed it. Or branded it.

She winced, "You stubborn bastard." She muttered. "You're going to break yourself chasing ghosts." As if he heard her in his restless sleep, Megatron stirred. Just a twitch. A flicker of his optics. 

Nickel hesitated, then leaned in, keeping her voice low. "Can you hear me Lord Megatron?" She asked. He blinked once, slowly. And then, without focus, he whispered, "He showed me the end. The real one. Not fire. Not rust. Just silence. And I was it." His words made no sense, as if they were a riddle with no meaning. Nickel did not know enough about Unicron to understand the delirius poetry but the delivery of it made her feel some sort of dread. 

His optics went dark again. Not offline. Not asleep. Just... elsewhere. She stood up slowly, arms crossed again, trying to ignore the sick twist in her systems. 

Outside the medbay, the hum of the ship was constant. But in that moment, it felt like she was hearing the echo of something deeper.

He left the medbay in silence. Not because he doubted. Because he was certain. The spark of a god had never looked so fragile—so close to unraveling. But Tarn had seen death, decay, the rot of weakness. This was not that. This was transcendence. 

Megatron had touched the divine, and the divine had burned him. Cleansed him. The others would need to know. 

Tarn entered the bridge to reestablish communication with the others. Each pedefall echoed like scripture. The door sealed behind him with a hiss and he approached the console, activating the encrypted relay. 

“This is Tarn. Status.” 

A breath later, Kaon’s voice answered—static-laced but clear. “Judgement complete. Three neutralizations. One anomaly escaped.” 

Tarn optics narrowed. “Define anomaly.”

Kaon hesitated—not from fear, but calculation. “Not one of our listed designations. No Decepticon tag. Civilian energy signature—but wrong. Dense. Disjointed. Fluctuating beyong baseline spark pressure.” 

Tarn took the information, piece by piece. “Who interfered?”

“Starscream. And one of his clone-lineage, Thundercracker, we believe. They were… training the anomaly.”

That made Tarn pause. “Training?”

“Weapon handling. Flight stabilization. Emotional control. But it wasn’t right. The spark was corrupted.” Kaon’s explanation was starting to irritate Tarn by the minute. 

“And you failed to eliminate it.” Tarn couldn’t help the irritation that crawled through his tone. Something else was going on, but not only on the Nemesis. With Megatron. Something on Earth.

“It… screamed.” Kaon continued without Tarn’s response for further. “Not a sound. A pulse. When we moved to strike. The anomaly’s spark unleashed a wave. It staggered Tesarus. Froze Helex. I haven’t felt pain like that since Kaon Omega. I don’t think she knew what she was doing. But it was enough.” 

Tarn thought of his response. He tried to come up with some sort of explanable solution to this. Trying to understand why Starscream was the one to intervene. Why he protected her. Whatever she was. 

“They escaped?” Was all he could come up with to ask. 

Kaon took a minute to respond but he did. “Into the Earth terrain—a hidden structure. They were prepared for an ambush.” Kaon didn’t mention it fully, but the fight between them, Knockout and Breakdown repeated in his processor. The most they could do was harm them enough to make them flee 

“They expected judgement?” Tarn followed up. 

“No. They expected pursuit. We failed to capture. Tracking lost. The structure was shielded.” Tarn finally had some gratification. The Autobot Base. They knew where it was now. That’s all they needed. 

There was a long silence as Tarn stared at the star map transmitted to his console. The energy signature warped across the display like an infected wound. Familiar.

He had remembered hearing of small whispers from his first arrival. Of a spawn that was ripped from Megatron’s servos, one of his kin. What was her name?

“Sunburst.” He whispered, almost unwillingly. 

Kaon’s voice came over the comms again, interrupting his thoughts and he almost forgot he was still connected. “That was what the seeker called her.” Kaon confirmed what Tarn was thinking and it almost clicked instantly. 

Tarn exhaled through his vents, slow and shallow. He could feel the echo of that scream through Kaons voice. Not a noise. A frequency. Something primal.

As if something was trying to escape. 

“Return to surveillance. Do not engage until I command it.” Tarn needed answers. Ones that only Megatron could answer. “Acknowledged. But Tarn—“ Kaon was pushing his limits with Tarn hovering over the disconnect button with little regard.

Instead he coiled underneath his mask and begrudgingly responded, “Yes?” The response came out more venomous than he intended but he didn’t bother apologizing. 

“She looked… scared.” Tarn was hasty on the disconnect button but didn’t attempt to reestablish connection. He had a lot of thinking to do. A lot of searching. 

Tarn remained still, servo resting against the console. He didn’t even know where to start and he hated this feeling of uselessness. It made him want to claw at the mask. He needed the knowledge. He needed to wrong the right. 

But this thing—this child—was neither war criminal nor revolutionary. She was something else. And for the first time in a long, long time… Tarn felt doubt. 

Thundercracker didn’t speak about what happened but he was thoroughly confused. They managed to escape with their necks because Knockout and Breakdown intervened. But the follow-up with Sunburst was unusual. And Starscream was very adamant against anything being said to the Autobots.

They were only out there to train her, since she had gotten older her wings were more developed. She was able to use her boosters, and her wings at least allowed her to hover. They were only out there to help her, to guide her on what to do. But the attack changed everything. 

The pulse that Sunburst threw at them—intentional or not—changed everything. 

“You mind explaining to me, what just happened?” Thundercracker walked over to Starscream with a new attitude. The way the seeker was reacting towards the entire ordeal was not usual. It was as if he was expecting something like this to happen. Not this extent but at least enough to where he was able to navigate it effectively. 

Starscream didn’t flinch. Thundercracker watched him carefully. The tension in his wings wasn’t fear. It was control—tight, measured, expecting. "You’re taking this real well for someone who just got vapor-flung by an untrained kid,” Thundercracker added, trying to get under his plating. 

Starscream’s reply was a murmur. “It wasn’t intentional.” Thundercracker moved to one side, anger flaring through his EM field. “I know that,” Thundercracker snapped. “I’m not talking about her.” Starscream finally looked at him. His expression was unreadable. Not blank—guarded.

“You knew something like this could happen,” Thundercracker said, motioning with his servo to Sunburst, who was sitting aways-away. “You didn’t know-know, but you expected it. I saw the way you moved. You weren’t surprised, you were calculating.” Starscream's mouth twitched, almost uninterested in this conversation. It was clear he didn't want to keep talking about it but Thundercracker pushed because he wasn’t just going to brush this off. Not when it could cost them their lives.

“You knew what she could do,” Thundercracker pressed, voice quieter now as to not raise suspicion. He was holding back what he wanted to let spill. His anger wanted to boil and he didn’t let it. “You’ve been watching it build. And you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell Warp.” Starscream's optics flicked back and forth between him and Sunburst. She was watching the humans work alongside the catwalk. Curious of their autonomy but neither touching or approaching them. She looked harmless.

“She’s not a weapon,” Starscream said at last. Thundercracker crossed his arms, “I didn’t say she was. I said she was dangerous. There's a difference.” A tense silence settled between them. Outside, the wind cut through the collapsed walls like a sigh. 

Thundercracker took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Do you even know what she is?” Starscream didn't answer. "Because that pulse? That wasn’t Cybertronian. That was something else.” Thundercracker was trying to get a rise out of him and it seemed to be working because Starscream gave him a glare.

"I know you weren't there to witness it but I didn't incubate her for jours just for you to call her non-cybertronian." Starscream spit back, "I don't know everything." His voice switched tones, lowering as he continued. "I've only seen pieces. Glimpses. Patterns in her spark readings. Things that don't align with anything in our archives. And I haven't told anyone because I don't want her to know." He looked towards Sunburst as they talked, she was still watching the humans. 

Thundercracker’s optics narrowed. “Why?” He looked over at Sunburst as well, trying to keep his voice down as they talked. Starscream looked away. A part of him wished the incident outside never happened. A part of him blames himself. 

“Because if she realizes what she is before she’s ready...” He exhaled sharply through his vents. “Then we don’t get another chance to teach her how to hold back. We’ll lose her. One way or another.” Thundercracker was quiet for a long moment, glancing back at Starscream. His field settled, less hostile now, but still wary. "They'll come back for her."

Starscream nodded. "I know." He looked back at Thundercracker. They both were concerned, for different reasons. But saying versus doing is two completely different things. “Then what’s the plan?” Thundercracker asked.  Starscream's wings twitched—fatigue or nerves, Thundercracker couldn't tell. 

"Keep her close. Keep her calm. And pray to a god that's probably not listening." 

Starscream started to understand many things as he stood at the edge of the river. He felt the place was fitting. A place of comfort to him and Optimus. A place where talks were becoming usual. He stared at the running water listlessly, watching his reflection. He was beginning to become suspicious, concerned about the future of Sunburst. 

He hadn’t told anyone what happened in the field. Not how Sunburst’s pulse hurt, how it called to something, how the air tasted like the void that had plagued his dreams for years. The same void he felt whenever his spark faltered—in every death, in every moment his spark flared too hot, too red.

He hadn't been to the space since his last brush with death. He had never tried to enter the space before. But now, with the stakes increasing. He needed answers and there was only one who could answer. 

Sunburst’s existence—her power, her pulse—it was too much like what he saw in the void between deaths. The whispers, the figure, the burning silence. The sense that something was watching him from inside. 

He tapped the stabilizer behind his spark chamber. A regulator. A failsafe. It was something that Ratchet had installed to prevent further seizures, that's what he called them. Now it was the same thing he was going to use to pass through the limbo. 

He navigated the internal menus, reaching the relay for the connection to the stabilizer. He made the conscious choice to disconnect it after a moment of silence. The pain he felt was electric, instantaneous. The surge was felt in his throat and his spark lurched in his spark chamber. It was a flare of red-hot pressure from his spark, unstable, twisted. 

It only took seconds before his vision blurred and the world fell away.

There was no floor. No sky. Just ash, floating, unmoving. As if he had stopped crafting a world to greet him. Not that it mattered to Starscream. 

Stood in the silence of the smog was the mech. A shadow in the mist. Standing in the dark. Unseen and wearing the facade of another. The one who haunted every dream. Who stood at the edge of every death. Always just beyond reach. 

Starscream walked straight toward him. Unafraid of the consequences he could face.

“No more hiding,” Starscream accused. “I want to know. Why is she like this? What did you do to her?” The mech turned to meet his gaze. Ancient plating. Burned metal. Eyes like collapsed stars. It was too familiar. Too ghostly.

Unicron smiled. “I did not create her, Starscream. You did.” Starscream reeled back, as if he had been burned. He had a suspicion. A belief. But that reality stung like ice and he hated being right in some instances. It was Unicron. It always had been.

Starscream reeled back. “No—Megatron—!” He wanted to rid himself of the blame, knowing full well he had a part to play in her being the way she was because of his selfish choices. He wanted it to be different. But he knew it wouldn't go away simply because he disagreed. “Yes. He gave her form.” The dead god purred, solidifying his disbelief.

Unicron stepped forward and instinctively Starscream stepped back, unwilling to allow him to get any closer. Not that it mattered. Not when he was in his playground. “But you gave her essence. Your spark is the cradle of her corruption. Your mutation... your death... your fear.” Starscream's vents shuddered. He realized something he should've connected long ago. "She's... tied to you."

Unicron almost extended his amusement but he didn't need to, it was written on his face. “By your hand.” His voice echoed like prophecy. “Megatron’s flesh. Your spark. My mark.” He motioned with his servos, speaking in a mocking way as if mimicking the late Primuse. 

Starscream was beginning to register just how many moments he had spent in near death with Unicron. The arguments he had, the proximity of death. All of it felt wrong.

Starscream didn't realize that he had sunk to his knees until he was looking up at Unicron. "She is just a child..." He murmured, hoping that his plead was enough to change his mind. But he knew it was foolish to believe the devourer would believe in change.

Unicron looked down at him. Gleeful in his despair. “She is more than that. She is what happens when power is stolen and never paid for.” He spoke with some venom behind his tone, chastising his history. Starscream didn’t  understand why things went as wrong as they did. But now with Unicron's admittance, he began to. Sunburst was just his repentance while she was Megatron's punishment. 

“You fled my touch. But your spark could not forget.” Unicron knelt beside him, though he did not reach. Instinct made Starscream flinch. His frame this close was translucent, and had no form. He was a shapeless void, existing in a world he created in Starscream's mind. 

“She will awaken. And when she does, the universe will hold its breath.” Unicron seemed hopeful of the futures demise. A hope that Starscream despised. 

Starscream stared at the groundless dust, his voice nearly breaking. He wanted to know what to do, and he hated how powerless he felt under the gaze of the dead god. But every piece of his frame told him not to move. Not to breathe. “Then what do I do?”

“That,” Unicron said, “is the first worthy question you’ve asked in your life.”  The dark god faded and the ground beneath Starscream gave away. 

He fell. For what seemed like forever.

The world came back, snapping back into place. He was on his back. His body felt like it was on fire. He didn't know how to react at first. His spark was trying to catch up to surge and it felt like it was in his throat. He turned on his side, lurching as he spit up energon. His energy readings were slowing to a normal level and warnings continued to be present on his HUD. The stabilizer re-engaged on emergency protocol as his spark cycled erratically. 

His limbs twitched as he moved back to his back. Wings flat and unmoving. He was alive. But not whole. Sunburst's face came to mind as he laid there. Her hands. Her laughter. Her fear. 

He curled his digits into the Earth. Pulling the ground into clumps. He wanted things to be different. He wanted his life to be normal. He thought leaving the Decepticons was a step into that direction. He was right but it only created more issues. 

He didn't move for a long time, watching the backdrop of stars behind the brightly lit moon. He wondered which one would fall first.

By the time Starscream had got back, most of the base had settled into a tense, false calm. Thundercracker was with Sunburst in the far corner of the control room, pretending to teach her hover control again, though both of them looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. 

Starscream bypassed them both. Intending on avoiding them, not wanting to meet their faces as they realize yet again that they had briefly lost him. He especially wanted to avoid the orange medic that was usually watching him like a hawk. He needed... air. Or distance. Or maybe someone who wouldn't ask him questions the way Thundercracker did. 

And as luck—or something kinder—would have it, Skyfire was by the observation desk, sitting cross-legged with an old datapad in his lap, flipping absent-mindedly through star charts. Old research, probably found from old regional posts from when the expeditions were still active. He missed scouring Earth with the shuttle. It meant something to him. 

Starscream stopped just short of the doorway, looking at the distracted shuttle. "Are you hiding from me?" Skyfire's voice drifted up without looking. Starscream scoffed despite himself, not expecting Skyfire to acknowlede him. "If I was, you'd never find me." Skyfire smiled, setting the datapad aside as he looked at him. "You're predictable, but not that predictable." 

"Charming," Starscream said dryly, but his speak eased a little at the sound of Skyfire's voice. Skyfire stood and crossed the room in that slow, careful  way of his—like he was still afraid of startling Starscream too much. Even with the increase in changes from Starscream, there were moments where he was still anxious, nervous as he was before. He tried his hardest not the make the seeker react like that. 

"Training go that badly?" Skyfire asked gently, coming close but not crowding. Starscream leaned against the wall, rubbing at the weld lines near his spark chamber. The regulator inside him hummed, still trying to compensate for the damage he'd just done to himself. It took a lot in him not to cringe, not to fold against the pain that threatened to destroy him again. He hated pain. He was starting to realize that.  

"We had... visitors." Starscream muttered, avoiding his gaze. Skyfire's brow plates lifted, interested now. "The DJD?" He asked. The question was unexpected but it should've been as Skyfire was intelligent when it came to researching. It didn't take a scientist to look at the mechs designs to know that they were from pre-war. Skyfire and Starscream had their own history with Tarn and his Justice Division. They knew just who was more dangerous than the others. That's why it concerned them for the future of Sunburst. 

"Some of them," Starscream admitted. "Sunburst... reacted." He debated on elaborating but he felt comfortable speaking with the shuttle about this. It felt nice to speak honestly. It felt nice to be heard.

"That bad?" Starscream laughed softly at his response. "Let's just say Thundercracker's rethinking his career choices." Skyfire's smile flickered. He reached out, resting a hand along Starscream's wing joint. Light, careful. There was so much abuse to those wings, it felt weird to be touched on them. He wasn't used to the caution. Starscream liked it though.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked and Starscream hesitated. His first instinct was to say no. To deflect. To weaponize sarcasm like he always did. But Skyfire wasn't like Thundercracker. He wouldn't yell. He wouldn't push. He'd just... wait. And somehow that was worse. 

Starscream's voice dropped low. "I took myself offline," He finally said. "On purpose. Just for a little while." Skyfire froze, expecting something else clearly. "You what—" Starscream interrupted him before he could ask further. "I needed answers. And... I got them." Starscream's optics flickered. "Sort of." 

Skyfire's field contracted with worry, but he didn't immediately scold him. That was one of the things Starscream had grudginly started to like about him. "You're hurting yourself chasing ghosts again," Skyfire said softly, optics tinged with hurt. Starscream had a hard time looking at him, he didn't want to see his expression. It made his spark hurt more than it already was.

"Maybe." Starscream let his wings droop. "But this ghost has a name now." Skyfire tilted his helm, curious of what exactly he found. Starscream exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze for a second before offering him a strained smile. "But you don't want to hear that right before recharge." 

"Try me." Another pause. Then Starscream shook his head, certain this time. "Later." Skyfire wanted to push for more, he wanted to. But he didn't want to breach the trust that Starscream was building with him. He studied Starscream carefully for another moment. Then, with a tired sort of affection, he slid both arms around Starscream's frame and pulled him in—not forceful, not dramatic. Just steady and warm. 

Starscream didn't resist. His head found Skyfire's shoulder before he even realized he'd moved. They stood there like that, quiet, the world spinning further into chaos outside their fragile orbit. 

For now, this was enough.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

The air outside the base was cooler now. The concrete of the abandoned runway shimmered faintly with residual heat as Sunburst ran her drills. The area was more secure, enclosed on the military base away from the normal operations, provided by Fowler as a retention gift. Although it felt malicious. 

Thundercracker leaned back against the perimeter wall, watching her wobble and hover, her newly strengthened wings catching just enough lift to her to hold steady for a few seconds before dropping clumsily back to the tarmac. "You're holding your stabilizers wrong again," He called lazily, waving his servo out. Skywarp stood nearby, opting to participate in the training process. 

She gave him a look over her shoulder, more sullen than usual, but made the adjustment anyway. Her behavior was becoming more in line with Star's sassy attitude but Thundercracker didn't comment on it, finding it cute for now. Starscream, himself, stood further down the line, arms crossed. His field was closed tightly, too tightly, like a storm he refused to let out. 

Thundercracker had been noticing it for days now—that tension hadn't let up since the attack. But he didn't press. Not yet. Skywarp was none the wiser which irritated TC a bit just how one-sided this entire mess was.

Sunburst rose again, this time holding the hover longer than she had all week. She held it for some time before her boosters sputtered, flaring too hot, and Thundercracker flinched as she suddenly dropped with a loud metallic clang. He stepped forward with Skywarp following behind him. Warp kneeled him while Thundercracker didn't approach any further. "You alright, kid?" TC asked. Sunburst sat there on the tarmac for a moment, optics dimming slightly, vents cycling fast.

"...Fine," She muttered, but her voice sounded distant. When Skywarp reached down to help her up, her plating was hot to the touch—too hot. He frowned, not expecting the change. "You're burning up." 

Starscream's voice cut in from the other end, sharper than either of them expected. "That's enough for today." Sunburst shot him a confused look, but Starscream was already walking toward her, his field still a tightly wound knot of static and fear he pretended was anger. 

Thundercracker let go of her arm reluctantly as Star approached, and Starscream guided her back toward the hangar. Skywarp looked between them and Thundercracker as he watched them walk away. "What was that?" He asked, crossing his arms at the blue seeker who didn't seem to look his way at all when asked.

"I don't know, Warp. I really don't." He sighed and Skywarp looked back to the hangar doors and then back at his brother. Just when they believed that Star was getting better with the presence of Sunburst there were more lies and more tension. 

Sunburst followed Starscream, carried by one arm in a tense hold but it didn't hurt. She felt like she was being scolded but with the way Starscream was walking and acting it was clear that he was just stressed, worried more than anything. "Did I do something wrong?" She asked the question anyway, as if expecting an honest answer. 

Starscream's wings twitched and he looked down at her as he walked with her down the hall of the military hangar. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. Im just... worried for your health." He said softly before deciding to lift her up into his arms. She was almost getting too tall to be held but he still tried. 

Her plating was still running too hot but he didn't comment on it to prevent any concern. Sunburst accepted his open affection although she was starting to catch on that he wasn't telling the whole truth. "What happened today?" He asked her, wanting to see if she could remember the events. She sat in his arms for a moment, staring off, trying to remember what led up to her boosters flaring. She vaguely remembered the whispers, just out of range as if she was too far. 

"I thought..." She started, unsure if it was rational to believe she was hearing things. "I thought I heard something." She muttered the end of her sentence but Starscream heard it loud and clear. It made his fear increase but he continued to hold his field close to him as he walked her to the medical bay for evaluation. 

"Thank you for being honest with me, sweet spark. We'll get through this okay? If you hear anymore of those sounds, you tell me." He spoke quietly as he walked, and glanced at Sunburst for confirmation. She gave him a nod and leaned against him as they entered the medical bay. 

Ratchet wasn't the happiest mech in the world as Starscream entered with Sunburst in servo. Red Alert stood by in the back of the room, categorizing supplies on a data pad when they walked in, he didn't even look up as they walked in. "What is it now?" Ratchet asked, leaning back in his chair. There was a device attached to his helm for analysis and it looked like he was in the middle of looking at a Dark Energon sample. 

Starscream sat Sunburst on the berth nearby and motioned to her. "She had a small accident today while training and her plating is running a little too hot. Can you just look her over?" Starscream asked, seating himself in a chair near the berth. 

Ratchet gave him a look but didn't remark anything as he rolled closer to the berth and began to scan her vitals. 

The scanner was silent as it looked over everything and the results got back relatively quickly as Ratchet skimmed over them. "She's fine," The medic reported finally, though his expression skeptical. "Spark output is elevated—but no obvious damage. No foreign contamination." The results were a breath of fresh air but it didn't deter any sort of mild stress that Starscream felt as he just nodded through the list of possible remedies that Ratchet riddled off. 

By the end of it, he had Sunburst back on her pedes and exploring the control room again. Her behavior was back to normal, mostly. Her attention gravitated to her uncles and sometimes Optimus but she was still the same curious seekerling. Intelligent and wonderous. Starscream didn't know what to do. He tried to find solutions. He researched many different things to fix this but he got nothing in response. 

Starscream just needed time, and time wasn't something he had.

The sky was just starting to lighten, streaks of washed-out lavender dragging across the horizon. Starscream stood at the edge of the cliffs outside the base, arms folded, wings pulled tight to his back. 

He hated how quiet it was here. The wind slammed against the cliffs an irregular bursts, kicking up dust and grit and pushing at his plating. It itched. It always itched when he stood still too long, when he had nothing but the sound of his own field sparking faintly against itself. 

He didn't even bother turning around when he heard the slow, heavy pedesteps behind him. Of course it was Skyfire.

"If you're here to ask me about her," Starscream muttered, optics fixed on some meaningless point beyond the horizon, "don't bother." 

The steps stopped a few paces back. "I wasn't going to ask," Skyfire said, voice even and calm as ever. "You're not exactly the type to answer if you don't feel like it." 

Starscream scoffed faintly but didn't speak, not yet. His digits flexed faintly against his arms as he stared out to the rough terrain below. Skyfire leaned against the rocks just behind him, big and steady, frustratingly patient.That was worse somehow—that Skyfire was always patient when Starscream least deserved it.  

"You know," Skyfire started after a moment, "she's overheating again. Spark output's high. Even Ratchet noticed it last cycle." Starscream's digits scraped faintly at his own plating, denting it ever so slightly before he caught himself. He swallowed his first response and forced it down to a curt: "I know." 

Skyfire waited. He was infuriating like that— like he knew Starscream always said more eventually. 

Starscream finally shifted, wings twitching with irritation—or guilt, hard to tell. "She hears it," He said after a beat, voice low. Skyfire's optics narrowed faintly at that. "She hears him," Starscream clarified, sharper now, venom creeping into his tone like it was safer to be angry than afraid. 

"Unicron." Skyfire finished for him, quiet but certain, as though saying it aloud made it real. Starscream didn't answer, but the way his lip curled, the way his gaze stayed locked on the horizon, was answer enough. 

Skyfire's field pulled in tight. He took a careful step forward, just enough to close the distance a little. "You should tell Prime," He said quietly. Starscream actually laughed at that—or at least made a sound that passed for one. 
 
"Oh, yes," He sneered. "Brilliant idea. Tell him she's carrying a little piece of Unicron inside her spark and watch him make the same choice the Autobots always make when they think something's too dangerous to keep alive." His wings flared wide, sharp and stiff, his voice rising. "You think I don't already know how that ends?"

"She's—" Skyfire started.

"She's mine." Starscream cut him off, finally spinning to face him, wings still high but shaking now. There was a snap in his voice, something cracked and brittle but still burning. "Do you understand me? Whatever's inside her—whatever mistake—" He faltered there, his optics darting to the ground just for a Klik. "That's still my sparkling. They're not taking her away from me." 

Skyfire didn't flinch under the sudden flare of his field. He just held his gaze, steady and quiet, until the edges of Starscream's wings started to sag back into something more tired than angry. Starscream hated how easy it was to let himself sag.

And then Skyfire took another step closer, slow and deliberate, resting one broad, warm servo on Starscream's elbow. "She's yours," Skyfire murmured. "But you don't have to carry it alone." That shut Starscream up more effectively than any argument. 

Because wasn’t he trying? Starscream thought bitterly. Wasn’t he already doing everything he could to be better? To try to be the kind of mech who didn’t just watch his own creation slip into someone else’s control?

He just didn’t know if he could be that kind of mech fast enough. 

Starscream’s optics darted away, his wings fell a little lower, but he didn't pull away from the contact. "...I don't know how to stop it," He admitted finally, voice just above a whisper. Skyfire's grip firmed slightly. "Then we figure it out," He said simply. "Together." 

Starscream didn't say anything else after that. But when Skyfire didn't move his hand, he didn't make him, either. The horizon brightened another degree, the morning creeping in. The wind still clashing against the cliffs.

The lab was still. 

Soundwave stood near the door, his visor bright against the dim glow of the consoles. His presence was heavy, his field sharp and coiled, watching Shockwave work in silence. 

Shockwave didn't look up. He sat at his station, long claws moving deliberately over strings of Sunburst's spark data. Numbers flickered across the screens—energy spikes, harmonic fluctuations, resonance patterns—all climbing.

"Her readings continue to destabilize," Shockwave stated flatly, breaking the quiet. "Left unchecked, her spark resonance will breach containment thresholds within four megacycles. Perhaps less. The rate of increase is accelerating." He paused, adjusted one parameter, and continued. "The conclusion remains the same. She is not viable." 

Soundwave's visor brightened a fraction, and the faintest statis hissed through the air around him. "No," He said firmly. Shockwave's claw hovered over the keys. His optics shifted, focusing on Soundwave for the first time.

"You made your position clear in our last exchange," Shockwave said evenly. "The...comparison to your cassettes was noted. Though illogical." Soundwave didn't flinch. "Not illogical," He countered coolly. "Perspective. She is a child. You call her unviable. I call her unprepared." 

Shockwave was quiet for a beat. His optic glowed brighter, then dimmed slightly. "…Perhaps," He conceded, though his tone remained flat. "Though the probabilities remain unchanged, there may... exist alternative methods to mitigate the risk." Soundwave tilted his helm faintly, watching. 

Shockwave turned back to the console, pulling up another set of calculations. "Suppression," He said simply, as though the word itself was already a solution. "Her spark is functioning as a conduit. The harmonic instability suggests it can be interfered with—disrupted. The resonance with Unicron severed or dampened. At least temporarily." He began adjusting variables as he spoke, his claws clacking against the keys. 

"A tailored field—an inhibitor matrix woven with harmonic dampeners. The effect would resemble a spark cage, though internalized. It would... quiet the connection. Force it dormant." Soundwave's visor narrowed. 

"Painful?" He asked bluntly.

Shockwave's claw hesitated for the faintest moment. "...Likely," He admitted. "Her frame was not designed to tolerate such a system indefinitely. But it would preserve her spark. And her mind." Soundwave's field eased fractionally—not much, but enough. 

Shockwave continued his calculations, his voice even as ever. "You understand," He added, "this is not a solution. It is containment. It will fail eventually if the root cause is not addressed. But it will... buy time." Soundwave lingered a moment longer. Then, silently, he crossed the lab, stopping just behind the scientist. 

"Do it," He said, quietly.

Shockwave didn't reply. He adjusted one more line of code, then he saved the file under a new designation: Project Containment. 

Soundwave turned to leave, his visor dimming back to its usual glow. But at the threshold, he paused—just for a klik—before saying over his shoulder: "She is not Unicron." 

Shockwave's claw twitched faintly over the keys. "No," He murmured to himself after the door shut behind Soundwave. "Not yet." 

Soundwave stood in the corridor for a moment longer than he meant to. His field still crackled faintly, sharp edges refusing to smooth entirely. Every line of his frame was tight, controlled, but inside he could still feel the echo of Shockwave’s words: not yet.

He hated the implication. That the scientist already assumed the outcome. That they all did. He wished it was different, he wished the life this child was going to live was different. 

He didn’t entirely understand why he felt so helpful for a child that wasn’t his own. Perhaps it reminded him of his cassettes. He could see the good in a sparkling who had bright future. 

Soundwave began walking, pedesteps soundless despite the weight of him, his visor dimmed to a thin line of cold blue. He had never trusted easily, but lately the fault lines were becoming harder to ignore. Starscream’s sparkling was proof enough that the fractures in their war were widening—and somewhere in the cracks, something older and darker had begun to seep through. 

He could feel it even here, on the Nemesis. A faint hum in the steel, in the air, in the silence between footsteps. It crawled through the corridors like a ghost, settling into the warlord’s presence and coiling there. Like a poison to a host.

He reached Megatron’s quarters and stopped just outside, pressing his servo against the panel. It wasn’t his place to question. Not outright. That had never been his function. But even Soundwave couldn’t ignore what he’d felt in the warlord lately—not entirely. 

The door opened without problem, spilling faint, harsh light into the hall. Megatron was inside, at the far end of the room. Standing as he always did—broad, immovable—but his back was turned, his shoulders rigid, his helm slightly lowered as though something unseen had its claws hooked into him. 

Silence from him was unnatural, bothering to a degree that only those who knew him understood.                           

Even from here Soundwave could feel it: the faint static in his own field, the sensation of something vast and hollow brushing the edges of his spark when he looked at him too long. Megatron didn’t turn. 

“…Soundwave,” he said at last, his voice low, rough, like it had to be dragged up from somewhere deeper than his own throat. Soundwave inclined his helm, but didn’t speak. Not yet. Megatron finally moved, slowly, straightening and turning his head just enough to glance at him over one shoulder. His optics were bright. Brighter than they should have been.

“You’re here to ask,” Megatron said, and it wasn’t a question. Soundwave didn’t deny it, there were many things he wanted to ask. He followed every update to his condition, he followed every strange encounter that the warlord had, the ones that Nickel reported.

The silence stretched, and Megatron finally exhaled something that might have been a laugh but was too dry, too bitter. “You feel it too,” Megatron murmured, his gaze dropping to his own claws as though they were no longer entirely his. “Don’t you?” 

It wasn’t an accusation. It was acknowledgment. Soundwave’s helm twitched slightly, but his field flickered in quiet answer. Megatron finally turned fully toward him, his frame towering but unsteady, his expression caught somewhere between defiance and something Soundwave couldn’t name. He wasn’t scared of him, he was scared of what he could do. 

“You were never any good at pretending,” Megatron said at last, his tone low but laced with something darker. “Not with me.” Soundwave’s field flickered faintly at that—just for a moment—but he didn’t rise to the bait. He only tilted his helm slightly, visor bright and unblinking, before speaking. “You are… compromised.” He said at last, his voice flat but heavy. 

That word made Megatron go still. And then slowly—his claws curling into fists—he stared back at him, his optics blazing bright. “Compromised?” Megatron repeated, voice dangerously low. “You choose now, of all vorns, to question me?” He was insulted but not the extent he would feel if Starscream were the one saying it. No, he was offended because Soundwave was the one who was saying it, and that meant something.

Soundwave didn’t flinch. “Not question,” he countered, calm as ever. “Observe. Confirm. Concern.” Megatron’s field flared wide—a guttural growl rumbling deep in his chassis. He advanced a step, looming over Soundwave now, his presence filling the room like the old days in the pit. 

“You think I am weak,” He accused, his tone biting now. “You—who watched me carve this cause from the arena floor, who followed me into the fire when no one else would—now you stand here and tell me what you see?” His claws flexed like he wanted something to crush. “Tell me, Soundwave. What do you see when you look at me now?” 

For the first time, Soundwave’s visor dimmed slightly, and his field cracked faintly with static. But his reply was still quiet. “I see the mech who built the Decepticons,” he said. “And I see… what has begun to unmake him.” 

That hit something raw. Megatron’s field flared so bright it was almost painful, his optics narrowing to slits as he spat his next words. “You forget yourself,” He hissed. “You forgot what we were—what I made you.” 

Soundwave’s visor flashed. “And what I made you,” He shot back—not loud, but sharper than he’d spoken in vorns. 

The words hung in the air like a crack of thunder. Megatron froze. Soundwave’s field rippled, dark and cold, claws flexing behind his back as he stepped closer now, quiet but radiating a weight that was impossible to ignore. “You speak of the arena,” Soundwave continued, his voice low but unflinching. “You speak of what you carved. But you were not alone. You never were.” His visor brightened to a cutting glare. “I stood beside you. Not because you made me but because I believed.”

Megatron’s mouth tightened, his optics still bright—but his servos had stopped curling now, his shoulders gone rigid. “And I still do,” Soundwave said, softer now—though no less firm. “But what I believe in is slipping. And you… are letting it.” Megatron was not the mech he once knew. He wore his face, had his physique, but spoke like a mad man. A divine lunatic reaching for the stars.

The room went silent again, save for the faint crackle of static between them. Soundwave wished it felt more comforting. He wished it was different, he repeated it to himself. 

Megatron’s field finally began to pull back, faintly—like a storm receding over the horizon. His claws uncurled. His optics dimmed slightly, though the fire in them hadn’t gone out. He looked away first. Soundwave stayed where he was, still and waiting, his presence heavy but patient. 

After a long moment, Megatron let out another laugh—bitter, quiet, and more tired than before. “…You’ve never spoken to me like that,” he muttered, though there was no real anger in it now, more surprise. Soundwave watched his face. “You’ve never needed it,” Soundwave replied, flat but true. Digits twitched, wanting to do more than just remain dormant behind his back.

That statement earned him a faint smile—crooked, humorless— before it faded again, leaving him standing there with his shoulders stiff and his optics fixed on some distant point only he could see. For a long klik, neither of them moved. 

But then Megatron’s field shifted—not flaring this time, but faltering. Weakening at the edges. Like something inside him had cracked open, and for once he wasn’t trying to hide it. His claws flexed absently, but he didn’t speak. 

Soundwave tilted his helm faintly, visor bright. And then—quieter, softer than anything that had come before—he finally stepped closer. Close enough that his presence brushed against Megatron’s arm, his field weaving into the edges of the warlord’s like a low hum. Megatron didn’t move, standing comfortably next to the silent mech. “Perhaps,” Soundwave murmured, “I can be of assistance.” 

Megatron’s optics slid to him sharply at that—surprise flashing there for just a moment, before it softened into something harder to name. Soundwave didn’t falter. His voice remained even, but the faintest ripple in his field betrayed him—warmer now, more open. “Just for tonight.” He added. Then—after a breath, softer still—“Like before.” 

For a long beat Megatron just stared at him, expression guarded, claws curled at his sides. But then his shoulders eased slightly—and something almost like a smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “…You always were difficult to refuse,” he murmured finally, voice low and rough. 

“You always needed it,” Soundwave replied simply. That earned him the ghost of a real smirk—faint, tired, but real. Megatron’s optics lingered on him for a long moment more, before he finally turned away—this time without the same rigidness, the same brittle anger as before. The tension in the room eased by degrees, quiet settling around them like dust. And when Megatron finally spoke again, it was so quiet it almost didn’t carry. 

“Stay, then.” 

Soundwave didn’t hesitate.

The Nemesis’ command deck was quiet when Tarn arrived — just as he liked it. The bustling of vehicons created distraction and in some twisted way, he enjoyed that there were lesser mechs on the ship.

He moved like a shadow in steel, heavy steps deliberate, the long edges of his mask catching faint glints of light. Megatron looked over the moon with subtle disdain, watching the perimeter around the chipped away chasm of Unicron's tomb. He didn't turn when Tarn entered. 

Tarn stopped a respectful distance away and inclined his helm. “You asked for my assessment,” he said, voice low and measured. Megatron’s optics slid to him without moving his helm. “Then give it.”

Tarn straightened. “My operatives on Earth engaged the Seeker and his… progeny,” Tarn began, choosing his words carefully. “They were only training her when we struck. The sparkling showed no formal combat ability, but…” He let the word hang for a beat, just enough to draw Megatron’s attention.

“…she unleashed a pulse. Crude. Raw. But powerful enough to stagger two of my best. They reported… instability. Surges of energy inconsistent with anything her frame should be capable of." He tilted his helm slightly, as though in thought, though the faint smile in his tone betrayed him.

“She is untrained. And yet… something responds to her. As though she is already being… spoken to." Megatron’s optics narrowed faintly at that, though his field betrayed nothing. He expected that there was some sort of connection between himself and his child. Most of all, he believed it had something to do with Unicron. 

Ever since his dance with the deceased god himself, he's been feeling things. Seeing things that aren't there. He was starting to realize that it was due to Unicron's connection and he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

Tarn lingered there, still and quiet for a moment more — letting the words settle. Then, almost casually, he added: “Of course, perhaps you already knew. You’ve certainly had… company enough to hear it for yourself.” Megatron’s optics snapped back to him now, bright with something that might have been irritation—or warning—but Tarn didn’t falter.

“I passed Soundwave on my way here,” Tarn went on, tone feigning mildness, though the edge in it was unmistakable. “Still trailing your field like a loyal little shadow. So eager to… soothe you. So eager to be useful. Or was it something else he offered this time? He does so love to make himself indispensable.” 

Megatron rose. Not quickly—not violently—but with the kind of measured threat that made the air seem to tighten around him. His optics blazed brighter now, his field flaring out hot. “Careful, Tarn,” he growled, his voice low and edged like the pit-fighters’ blades they’d both once carried. “You presume too much.”

Tarn didn’t flinch. He tilted his helm slightly, voice soft but laced with venom. “Do I?” he murmured. “Or do you simply not like it said aloud? You let him crawl back to your side like nothing’s changed. After all this time. After all he’s done. And you expect me not to notice?” Megatron stepped down from the throne, frame towering, his field sparking against Tarn’s now in full force. 

“What I allow Soundwave to offer is not your concern,” Megatron hissed, his voice dropping lower with each word. “Nor is your jealousy worth my time.” That one landed. 

Tarn’s claws flexed at his sides, the faintest crackle in his field betraying his composure for half a klik before he gathered it again, voice dropping back into its earlier quiet drawl. “…Jealousy,” he echoed, and though his tone feigned amusement, the edges of it were jagged. “Of that?” He laughed, but it was hollow. “Hardly. I simply thought you… better than to indulge such weakness. But if it pleases you, my lord…”

He stepped back at last, inclining his helm—a gesture that was equal parts deference and mockery. “…then who am I to interfere?” Megatron’s optics flared one last time, then dimmed just a fraction as he straightened and returned to his throne. “Then remember your place,” he rumbled, voice like thunder over steel.

Tarn said nothing else. But behind his mask, his optics burned hotter as he bowed and backed away—his claws curling so tight into his palms that the metal creaked faintly.

Chapter Text

The room was dark, the only lights being the glare from medical equipment and the occasional hum of electronics. She didn't turn the lights on, unable to recharge even in the void of the dark.  

She sat in the medbay corner, legs drawn up, chin tucked against her knees. She was only here because Ratchet recommended it, but the room was foreign and it didn't greet her kindly. Starscream was adamant against it but the old medic wasn't taking no for an answer.

So here she sat, in the medbay, mostly alone. Ratchet was nearby. He always was, but resting. It would take more than just a yell to wake him up but his company comforted her even if she didn't really know him. 

She kept looking down at herself, a faint violet hue that pulses too slowly, too deliberately, to be entirely her own. Something deep inside her chest kept thudding out of sync. Not painful. Just off. 

Like a second rhythm. Not hers.

She pressed a servo to her chestplate, digits splayed, trying to steady her ventilations. "Stop," she muttered. "Stop it. I'm not listening." But the moment she said it, the silence responded. 

A voice—not audible, not even entirely present—brushed across her processor like static. Like the sound of space tearing inward. It was painful but exhilarating. 

<You are listening.>

Her optics flared, a purple glow overcoming their normal amber color. That voice wasn't sound. It was memory. Echoes of metal screaming. Screeching wind through rusted stars. A voice that didn't speak words but meanings. Rage without direction. Hunger without need. 

She pressed her palms harder into her helm, curling down tighter. "Stop," she whispered again, more desperate. 

<You were made to hear. You are the door.>

She offlined her optics as an attempt to hide from whatever monster that plagued her. She didn't remember falling into recharge, but she must have—because when her optics flared online again, she wasn't in the medbay anymore. 

The ground beneath her was obsidian and ash. The sky was the color of old oil and blood, and split open with red lightning. And something enormous—just behind the horizon, just out of sight—was breathing.

The ground didn't shift when she stepped—because she wasn't stepping. Sunburst moved without moving, her limbs both present and not, dragging her across the blackened landscape like a puppet wading through gravity that didn't agree with her. 

The air was choking and sharp with static. The lightning overhead cracked like iron splitting bone. There was no sound—But her spark was roaring in her chest, too loud, too fast. 

And ahead, something was waiting. Each step closer made her feel smaller. Smaller than she'd ever been. Smaller than cells. Smaller than thought. Like she was being peeled apart. 

A shape loomed at the edge of the dream. Not Unicron—no. But a mouth. One not meant for feeding, but consuming. A maw made of collapsing stars and shrieking memory. She stopped walking. Or she tried to. Her legs didn't listen. 

<You were born from betrayal,> the voice said again—not in her ears, but in her frame. In her weld lines. In the seams of her spark chamber. <You carry the flaw that breaks the world.>

"No," she whispered. But the ground cracked beneath her anyway. 

She was falling—
She was flying—
She was screaming.

:: ALERT — SPARK FLUX DETECTED ::
:: WARNING: CORE TEMPERATURE SPIKING — 120% STABILITY LIMIT ::
:: MEDICAL OVERRIDE INITIATED ::

Reality slammed back into her frame like a fist. Sunburst lurched upright on the medbay berth, vents dragging in air with ragged stutters. Her optics flared, staticky and wide, like she didn't recognize the walls. Or herself.

"Hey!" Ratchet's voice snapped through the blare of alerts, sharp and ground. "You with me? Sunburst—Primus, look at me." 

She flinched. Her hands shot to her chestplate like she was still falling, like she could hold the dream back with force. 

Ratchet's hands were already on her arms, firm but not unkind. "You were spiking. Internal resonance off the chats. Your spark almost fried itself trying to keep up—" He rambled off words as if she understood and some she knew. 

"I heard him," she said suddenly. Too fast. Too loud. Her voice cracked at the edges. Ratchet froze, as if he didn't hear her correctly. He wanted to be wrong. Sunburst's optics flicked up, slowly focusing on his, grounding herself to this reality. The amber color had returned to her optics much earlier. "I saw it. I heard him. He knows I'm here."

Ratchet didn't say anything for a long time. Just looked at her, the edge of his jaw tightening beneath the weight of what he didn't want to say. "...Primus help us," he muttered finally. "We're running out of time." 

The medbay had gone quiet again, save for the steady thrum of cooling fans and the soft ping of diagnostic equipment recalibrating after the spike. 

Ratchet stood at the console tiredly, reading the residual spark data off Sunburst's internal telemetry. Every graph showed the same thing: instability, build-up, strain. Her spark had nearly entered cascade. 

"You should have told him," Ratchet said finally, not looking up immediately. Sunburst flinched again, but it wasn't for herself this time. She followed Ratchet's gaze toward the hall when he finally looked that way. 

The door slid open before either of them spoke. Starscream stepped through in a sharp blur of motion, his field practically rattling with tension. He crossed the room in three strides, his optics locked on Sunburst with such precision it made Ratchet feel like a third wheel in his own medbay. 

"You're late," Ratchet muttered. Starscream ignored him, kneeling down near Sunburst. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet but urgent. Sunburst didn't know how to answer that. Her wings twitched faintly, and she looked down. 

"...He's coming closer," she whispered. Starscream's optics narrowed. Ratchet crossed his arms. "Then I suggest we stop wasting time." 

The command center was cloaked in low light, screens casting pale blue reflections across steel walls and tired faces. The holotable displayed Sunburst’s spark readings—erratic fluctuations, frequencies fraying at the edges.

Optimus stood on the far side, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable. Ratchet lingered near the console, visibly restrained but stiff with concern. Starscream remained tense beside Sunburst, positioning himself just in front of her like a barrier, his wings held high and tight.

“She was contacted,” Ratchet said first, voice low but even. “Directly. It wasn’t just ambient interference or subconscious echoing. Unicron reached through her spark.”

Optimus’ gaze moved to Sunburst slowly. “Is that true?” Sunburst looked down, fingers curling against her chassis.

“…Yes,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to respond. I—it felt like I was dreaming, but I knew it wasn’t a dream. He… he knows I’m here.”

Silence hung for a beat. Then: “When?” Optimus asked. Not accusatory—only steady. Measured. He knew that there was a lot to unpack, to take one step at a time again. He wasn't angry, just frustrated. 

Starscream’s optics flared. Optimus looked on expectantly. “Long enough for it to concern me.” Ratchet sighed, exasperated as a servo came up to his helm and he waved it. “He’s known for cycles.” He remarked unceremoniously.

Optimus turned toward Starscream, and the weight of that gaze forced even the Seeker to hesitate. “And you chose not to inform command.” 

“She isn’t a threat,” Starscream snapped, wings jittering in place, unsure of just how much he wanted to push this issue. He didn't want to upset Optimus more than the leader already was. “And you know exactly what would’ve happened if I had.”

“You decided that for everyone.” Optimus responded blandly, almost monotously. It was hard to tell just how he was feeling outside of the disappointed EM field. 

“I protected her!” Starscream said quickly. As if it made it any better.

Optimus didn’t raise his voice, but it struck no less hard. “And what if your silence endangered her?” Starscream didn’t answer at first. His hands curled into fists, jaw tight.

Ratchet cut in, tone sharp. “The readings are accelerating. If we don’t do something, she could rupture. Her spark is already reaching containment strain. If that resonance hits critical, it won't be a matter of what she wants—it’ll be a matter of what’s already too late.” Ratchet replayed memories of his issues with Starscream's spark rate as he spoke. It felt like deja vu all over again. 

The only difference was that Sunburst could die.

Sunburst shrank further into herself, visibly trembling now. Starscream turned halfway toward her instinctively, field brushing against hers in reassurance. 

Optimus’ gaze lingered on her. When he finally spoke again, it was softer. “I understand why you chose silence,” he said, addressing Starscream now. “You were afraid of what we would do. Of how I might respond.” Starscream’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

Optimus exhaled. “I would not harm her. Not unless every path had been exhausted.” He didn't mean for it to come off the way it did but Starscream didn't look beyond the surface level with words. 

“She’s a child, Optimus,” Starscream said, quieter now. “Not a weapon. Not an experiment.”

“I know.” Optimus’ tone was almost gentle. “And that’s exactly why we must act before Unicron makes her either.”

He turned toward the console, bringing up a secondary display. “There may be one option left. A conversation I’ve avoided resuming. Shockwave’s research into harmonic field manipulation could offer a method of suppression.” 

Starscream visibly stiffened. Ratchet frowned. "You're considering contacting him?" 

"I am considering every possibility before we start counting losses," Optimus said evenly. 

"You don't know what he's capable of," Starscream hissed. "You don't understand—"

"I know what I'm willing to risk to keep her alive," Optimus interrupted, not unkindly. Ratchet exhaled, rubbing at his forehead. "If it comes to Shockwave, then we're already running out of time." 

Starscream scowled. "So that's it? Just let the butcher loose and hope he doesn't decide to dissect her instead?" 

"No one is suggesting that," Ratchet snapped. "But we need to be honest about where this is headed. If her spark ruptures in proximity to Unicron's influence, it might not just kill her—it could wake him."

Sunburst made a small, choke noise, barely audible. The room froze. "...I don't want to hurt anyone," she said, her voice trembling. "I didn't ask for this."

Starscream turned fully to her then, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. "You didn't. And you won't. We won't let that happen." 

Optimus watched them both. Then he stepped forward—slowly, carefully—and knelt to her level. "You are not a threat," he said quietly, just for her. “You are a life worth protecting. But to protect you, we need your trust. And your honesty. All of it.” Sunburst nodded shakily.

“Then we will act,” Optimus said, rising again. “Ratchet, prepare a secure medbay configuration. We’ll begin modeling suppression scenarios immediately. But I want all eyes on those readings. If anything shifts—anything at all—we need to respond.”

“And if suppression fails?” Ratchet asked. Optimus didn’t answer right away. Then: “…We’ll face that together.”

Starscream looked away, expression guarded. Ratchet gave a nod, though his mouth was tight. “Then I’ll get to work.” 

The medbay doors slid shut with a hiss behind Sunburst and Ratchet, her readings still flickering faintly on the nearby console. The quiet that followed felt cavernous. 

Starscream didn’t move at first. His optics lingered on the display, tracing the sharp spikes and trembling valleys in her vitals, even as they began to stabilize.

He stared at them as if they would change if he willed it. He wished it would. He wished Sunburst didn't have to suffer as he did. But she was, just in different fonts. Clawing her way to freedom outside of her own skin. 

It made him purse his lips with a solemn expression. He knew the feeling of being suffocated by the possibilities instead of the actual changes. 

He didn’t look at Optimus when he finally spoke. “She shouldn’t be in this position,” he said, low. “None of us should.” 

“She’s stronger than she believes,” Optimus replied, his tone soft. Both of them were starting to get used to this back and forth. The talks were becoming frequent. “As are you.”

Starscream scoffed, still not turning to face him, still staring at the display. “Is that meant to be comforting? I’ve heard worse eulogies.” There was a beat of silence before Optimus stepped to the console and closed the display. “It wasn’t a eulogy,” he said. “It was a reflection.”

Starscream finally turned, something tight and brittle behind his optics. “Is that what this is all building to? Another death for the good of Cybertron?”

Optimus shook his head once. “No. This isn’t about death. It’s about what comes after.” Starscream narrowed his optics at him, not entirely understanding. “You’re talking in riddles again. Either say what you mean or don’t say it at all.”

Optimus looked at him, level. Calm. “I’m dying.” 

The silence struck harder than any weapon could’ve. It was unexpected, suddenly everything came into question over the past couple of weeks. Starscream’s wings twitched once, then stilled. “…You’ve said that before. And yet you’re still here.” 

“Not like this,” Optimus said. “The Matrix is heavy now. And my spark is... quieting. I feel it.” Starscream looked away, arms folded too tightly across his chest. He didn't know how to handle himself, let alone the Prime. “So that’s it, then? You hand the planet off to Ultra Magnus or some other relic and hope the rust doesn’t spread faster than we can rebuild?”

“No,” Optimus said. “I’m handing it to you.” Starscream turned back so sharply, his wings flared. “What?”

“I’ve been considering it since before Sunburst reawakened,” Optimus said. “Watching your choices. Your restraint. Your fury when it’s needed. You’re flawed, yes—but so was I. So were we all. You’ve survived, Starscream. And you’ve changed. That matters more than any clean history.”

“You can’t be serious.” Optimus stepped closer, servo pressing against the table for support as he stared at the seeker with a neutral expression. “I am.”

Starscream took a step back from him, as if he would melt him if he got to close. “You’d make me a Prime?” he asked, incredulous and concerned. “You want me to carry your torch? That’s madness.” 

“It’s necessity.” Optimus stated, 

“You really believe I could survive the Matrix?” Starscream had a hard time even imagining himself in that position as he stared at the Autobot leader who was giving him the option. Telling him that he would be his first choice. 

“I believe you could guide it.” Optimus spoke as if his words still weren't in riddles. 

Starscream’s voice faltered, wings flicking outwards. “What if I don’t want it?” 

“Then I’ll find another,” Optimus said simply. “But I think you do want it. You’re just afraid of what it might make you give up.”

Starscream’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t understand. If I take it… I’ll change. The name, the frame—the identity. Starscream would die.”

“Starscream would evolve.” Optimus interrupted.

“Don’t say that like it’s noble,” Starscream spat back. “You think I don’t know what kind of legacy I have? I’ve lied, betrayed, murdered. I built my life clawing through the wreckage of others. What Prime carries that as a badge of honor?” His servos moved out in many directions, emphasizing his words as he spoke. 

He reminded himself of the times Megatron was thrown through loops, obsessing over the matrix as if had personally wronged him. He hated the implication of its existence and for many years he had yelled that he was going to rip it from Optimus's chest. 

Starscream would just become another target. Another reason for Megatron to hate him more. 

Optimus’ gaze didn’t waver. “The kind who knows exactly what not to become.” Starscream’s voice dropped. “I was made to be someone else’s shadow. To follow in his wake. And now you're asking me to carry yours?”

Optimus’ expression finally softened into something worn, quiet. “I’m not asking you to be Megatron. Or me. I’m asking you to be something new. Something only you could be.” A long pause. Then, more quietly: “And perhaps… this is your chance to lead the world you helped create.”

Starscream’s optics flared, something like pain—or memory—briefly flashing across his face. The thought of Sunburst flickered in his mind unbidden: her fragility, her strength, her optics that looked like the past of mech that no longer existed.

“Even if I wanted to,” he said, voice cracking faintly, “how would I even begin? How do I lead a planet without you standing beside me?”

“You lead by remembering why we fought,” Optimus said, leaning his head to the side. “Why we bled in the arena. Why we rose from the ash.” Starscream was quiet again, and when he finally spoke, his voice was almost hollow. “…And if I fall?”

“You won’t,” Optimus said confidently. “Because you already have. And you climbed back up.” Silence settled again, thick with something unspoken. Then, at last, Starscream looked up. “If I say yes—if I accept—I want to choose the name myself.”

Optimus gave a slow, steady nod. “Then make it one that carries both who you were… and who you intend to be.” 

Starscream exhaled through his vents, ragged. His wings drooped slightly—not in defeat, but in exhaustion. “…You’re not allowed to die yet,” he muttered.

“I’ll do my best,” Optimus said, almost smiling. 

The room was silent when they entered, heavy with the weight of unlikely company. Optimus stood at the far end of the table, hands braced against its edge, blue optics tracking the precise stride of Shockwave and the quieter, almost spectral presence of Soundwave. 

“Shockwave. Soundwave.” His greeting was even, though his optics lingered on the taller mech’s single, unblinking eye. “I had not expected a Decepticon summons to be answered.”

Shockwave’s tone was clipped, devoid of inflection. “I respond to logic, not sentiment. Your message contained both urgency and necessity.” Optics narrowing slightly, Optimus replied, “And what you deem necessary concerns the wellbeing of one who is under our protection—Sunburst.”

Shockwave did not hesitate. “She is the key vector. If Unicron’s consciousness is attempting contact, suppression is mandatory.” 

Optimus straightened, his voice calm but edged. “Suppression is not the same as containment. She is a sentient being, not a malfunctioning system.”

“A system capable of planetary destruction,” Shockwave countered. “It is illogical to treat her as anything but the primary threat vector.” 

For the first time, Soundwave stepped forward, his voice low but resonant. “Designation: Sunburst. Critical asset. Capable of choice.” He turned his helm toward Shockwave, almost as if to shield the mech from his own words. “Suppression: necessary. Method: humane.”

A flicker crossed Shockwave’s single optic—whether irritation or calculation was unclear. “Emotion clouds decision-making.” 

Optimus leaned forward slightly, voice measured. “And yet emotion is what has spared Cybertron from your more… pragmatic designs before, is it not? If you truly believed only in efficiency, you would not have kept certain data from Megatron in the past. Or shielded certain soldiers from unnecessary termination.” Shockwave’s silence was telling.

Soundwave’s head tilted slightly toward Optimus, an unspoken acknowledgment. “Objective: shared. Execution: contested.” Optimus allowed the faintest nod. “Then let us agree that the objective is to prevent Unicron’s influence. The method, however, will not sacrifice Sunburst’s personhood.”

Shockwave’s voice cut clean through the air. “I have already begun development on a suppression field—localized, high-frequency, designed to sever telepathic resonance. One unit for her. One for the origin site.” 

Optimus’s expression sharpened. “Origin site?” 

Shockwave inclined his helm. “You did not know. The primary resonance point is not within her, but beneath the northern polar trench. Containment there will sever the root.”

Optimus glanced briefly at Soundwave, who gave the smallest of nods—confirmation without elaboration. The Autobot leader folded his arms. “Then we have two fronts. You have my cooperation, but understand—Sunburst is not to be treated as collateral. She is under my protection.”

Shockwave’s optic narrowed a fraction. “And if logic dictates removal?” Before Optimus could answer, Soundwave’s voice cut in—firmer than before. “Then logic fails.”

A rare silence settled between them. Finally, Optimus spoke. “We will act, and we will act soon. But we will do so without forgetting that we are dealing with more than a weapon. If we are to stand against Unicron, it will be as allies—whether unlikely or not.”

Shockwave’s single optic remained steady on him, cold as ever. “Agreement does not imply sentiment, Prime. The measures required will not be gentle. You may not find them… palatable.” 

Soundwave’s helm tilted, his voice carrying the faintest reverberation. “Objective: preservation of Sunburst. Variable: method of execution. Alignment—possible.” Optimus gave the smallest nod toward Soundwave. “Then perhaps we have the beginnings of a shared goal.”

Shockwave’s head rotated minutely toward his fellow Decepticon. “Your phrasing is… generous. The elimination of threat is my priority, whether that threat is conscious or not.” Soundwave ignored the irritation bubbling up behind his core. He had enough of arguing about this stance. 

Optimus’s gaze tightened. “Sunburst is not a threat—” 

“Yet,” Shockwave interjected without a beat.

Soundwave’s visor dimmed a fraction. “Designation: Sunburst—asset. Precedent indicates: potential.” 

Shockwave shifted his stance, his voice deepening. “Potential to become a weapon for Unicron. Potential to undermine every fragile stability we have built. You speak of her as if she is merely a youngling. I speak of her as the vector she could become.” 

Optimus exhaled slowly, measuring his words. “She is young. And more than that—she is a creation caught between factions. That alone deserves careful handling.” Shockwave’s response was a low, almost mechanical hum. “Careful handling often results in delayed solutions. I am not in the habit of waiting for a threat to manifest before I act.”

It was Soundwave, of all mechs, who broke the mounting tension. “Query: Starscream. Status—unclear.” 

Optimus blinked, surprised by the shift. “Starscream is… settling in. It’s been an adjustment for him—perhaps more than for any of us.” 

Shockwave’s optic narrowed fractionally. “Adjustment. An interesting term for one who once claimed the Decepticon cause as his own, only to now operate under your banner.” 

Optimus met his stare without flinching. “Starscream has made his choice. Whether he thrives under it will depend on the support he’s given.” There was the faintest static crackle from Soundwave’s vocoder before he spoke again. “Observation: Starscream’s history—problematic. Projection: integration… unstable.”

Optimus’s tone softened but held weight. “I know his past as well as you do. I also know that he has reasons for the path he’s on now. If we want Cybertron to see peace again, we cannot discard those willing to fight for it—even if their hands are not clean.” 

Shockwave gave a sound that was neither agreement nor dismissal, only calculation. “You take gambles, Prime. I have observed this throughout your history. I wonder how many pieces you can place on the board before one of them turns on you.” Optimus’s optics narrowed, but his voice was even. “I wonder how many you’ve discarded before they could prove themselves.”

For a long moment, the room was silent save for the faint hum of Shockwave’s systems. Then, without looking away from Optimus, the scientist said, “I will continue developing the suppression system. One for the entity, and one for the site where it resides. If you wish, I can account for your… preference for her survival.” 

Soundwave inclined his head once. “Recommendation: coordination. Suppression protocols—must be precise.” Optimus nodded, though his tone carried an unspoken challenge. “Then let’s coordinate. But understand this—my first priority will always be to preserve life. All life.”

Shockwave’s optic dimmed faintly, like a slow blink. “A familiar refrain. Let us hope your philosophy does not compromise the result.” He stated as he turned and left. 

The door to the chamber slid shut behind Shockwave with a resonant hiss. His heavy footsteps faded into the corridor until the only sound was the quiet hum of the war room’s consoles. 

Optimus remained standing, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the sealed door. “He’s as immovable as ever.” 

Soundwave stayed by the table, head slightly inclined as though still listening to distant signals. His voice was low, mechanical yet deliberate. “Shockwave: consistent. Loyalty—to logic alone. Outcome: predictable, but… unyielding.” 

Optimus’s optics narrowed faintly. “Predictable does not mean trustworthy.” A faint crackle came through Soundwave’s vocoder. “Trust: irrelevant. Alignment of objectives—temporary.” He paused, visor tilting toward Optimus. “Warning: when objectives diverge, cooperation will terminate—without hesitation.”

Optimus finally turned to face him fully. “That’s what concerns me. Sunburst’s survival is not his primary goal.” 

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied without hesitation. “Shockwave calculates only probability of success, not moral weight.” Optimus’s expression softened into something heavier. “And yet, we will need him if we want any hope of containing Unicron’s influence.”

Soundwave’s visor brightened slightly, reflecting the flicker of a console screen. “Containment: necessary. But… variables remain. Starscream—” 

Optimus’s helm tilted, his tone wary. “What about him?” 

“Observation: his role… unstable. Pressure—could reveal loyalty or fracture it. This crisis… may be a test.” Soundwave felt unsure of his own words. Optimus stepped closer, his voice quiet but edged. “A test for Starscream?”

“And… for Megatron,” Soundwave continued, each word deliberate. “Starscream’s success—or failure—will reflect upon his former commander’s influence. If he falters, Megatron’s legacy weakens. If he succeeds…” 

“…then he proves himself to both sides,” Optimus finished, the thought settling uneasily between them. Soundwave inclined his head slightly. “Starscream will either rise… or expose himself. Either outcome—data.”

Optimus turned away again, pacing slowly toward the viewport. The barren horizon of Cybertron’s wastelands stretched far beyond, an empty reminder of everything they had already lost. “And in the meantime… Sunburst’s condition worsens.” 

“Affirmative,” Soundwave said. “Energy fluctuations increasing. Dream-state disturbances—amplified. Patterns indicate external interference.” Optimus’s optics hardened. “Unicron.”

Soundwave gave the smallest nod. “Conclusion: another… test.” Optimus’s voice deepened with grim resolve. “Then we prepare her. Because if this is a test, and she fails… we may not have a second chance.”

The lights in the war room dimmed briefly as a surge rippled through the base’s power grid. It was subtle, but Optimus and Soundwave both felt the unnatural echo beneath it—not mechanical, not Cybertronian. Soundwave’s visor pulsed faintly in the shadows. “Commencing monitoring protocols.” 

Optimus stared out into the horizon, his voice low. “Do more than monitor. Stay close to her.” He put a lot of trust into the silent mech to stay loyal to this once cause and with how immediate Soundwave moved, he didn't have to ask. 

“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied, leaving with Optimus in tow. 

The medbay lights were dimmed to a low, steady glow. Sunburst lay in the berth, ventilations shallow, optics shuttered. Ratchet sat at her side, scanning array in hand, the beeping of her vitals climbing higher than he liked.

A sharp spike on the monitor made him tense. Not good.

He opened a comm line. “Optimus—her neural readings just surged. I’m detecting heightened energon conduction and resonance. It’s… not natural. If this keeps up, she’ll—”

The rest of his words faded for Sunburst, slipping away into the dark water of her mind. 

The dream was warm at first—like standing in the filtered light of Cybertron’s golden age. Her pedes rested on gleaming metal, the skyline stretching endlessly. Somewhere in the distance, voices hummed in soft harmony.

<You are mine.>

The light dimmed, edges of her vision staining black. The voices warped, stretching into low, guttural echoes that reverberated in her chest.

<You’ve heard them speak for you, Sunburst. They doubt. They fear. They will betray.>

She stepped back, but her pedes found no grip—the ground beneath her tilted into a deep chasm. A silhouette loomed from below, eyes burning with that unnatural amber light. 

Several kliks away, beneath Cybertron’s crust, Shockwave’s footfalls echoed through the hollowed tunnels leading toward Unicron’s dormant core. He moved with precision, each motion calculated. His scanner swept the walls, mapping residual Dark Energon signatures.

“Location proximity: optimal,” he murmured to himself. The suppression array unfolded from his subspace—spindly, angular components locking into place like an insect unfurling its limbs.

He had not told Megatron. There was no need. This was not about loyalty. It was about preventing variables from reaching a point of no return.

The chasm greeted him but Shockwave did not respond, it threatened to envelope him but the scientist did not give it means to grasp. He continued further until the air became crisp and muddled with heavy residual energy that was encased in a room made of metallic that shifted with every step.

Sunburst’s vents hitched. Her spark felt too large for her chest, pulsing in time with the slow, rolling voice that shook her frame.

<You are more than their weapon. More than their child. Let me show you.>

She reached out—or maybe she was being pulled—toward the massive, clawed hand rising from the chasm. The closer it came, the more she could feel it: the cold weight of inevitability, the promise of power without restraint.

Somewhere far away, Ratchet’s voice cut through: “Optimus! We’re losing her—”

Shockwave’s digits danced over the suppression device’s console, Dark Energon readings spiking as he neared the activation switch. He adjusted frequency outputs to destabilize resonance patterns—if successful, it would muffle Unicron’s whispers across a wide range.

Just enough to silence the inevitable, shut down the stirring god, even if for a moment. 

“Calibration: complete,” he intoned, cycling power. The array hummed to life, deep and low.

He felt—though he would never say it aloud—a faint push back. Not from machinery. Not from the planet. From something deeper. It reached for his plating, clawing at the cables as if trying to wrench him from the console threatening to swallow it whole. 

The golden skyline in Sunburst’s mind fractured like glass. The chasm yawned wider. The clawed hand trembled, its form distorting in and out of focus.

<He is here, the voice growled, angrier now, reverberating like a thunderclap. He dares to silence me.>

Sunburst’s spark flared painfully, and she fell to her knees, clutching at her chest. The burning amber eyes narrowed to slits.

<Choose, Sunburst. Them… or me.>

In the medbay, alarms blared. Ratchet was already pulling up a stasis field protocol when the spike abruptly flatlined into steady rhythm again—still too high, but no longer in critical danger.

Sunburst’s optics snapped open, disoriented, a faint smear of black along her inner lens.

And far beneath the surface, Shockwave’s suppression field held—for now. 

The hiss of the medbay stasis seal broke as Sunburst’s optics flickered open. Her vents stuttered, drawing in too much air at once, a harsh scrape in her throat. She blinked rapidly, the overhead lights stabbing at her senses. 

“Easy,” Ratchet said sharply, one servo braced against her shoulder plating to keep her from bolting upright. “You’re stable now—for the moment.” 

The phrase for the moment landed heavy in her processor. She swallowed, throat dry. “What… happened?” Before Ratchet could answer, the doors slid open. Optimus stepped in first, frame shadowing the entrance, with Starscream following at his side, wings twitching in agitation.

“I was informed of a sudden spike in your vitals,” Optimus said, his tone controlled but weighted. “Ratchet?” 

“Whatever’s inside her head isn’t sitting idle,” the medic replied, glancing at the monitors. “I managed to keep her spark from overloading, but something pushed—hard. The readings match no natural resonance I’ve ever logged.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed. “And you didn’t think to alert me sooner?” Ratchet gave him a flat look. “Because I was a little busy keeping her alive.”

The Seeker bristled but bit back his retort, stepping closer to Sunburst. “Did you see anything?” She hesitated, fragments of the voice still coiling in her spark. “…It was angry. At someone else. Not me.”

Optimus glanced at Ratchet. “Someone else?” 

Ratchet frowned. “If she’s right, it means there’s another… interference.”

On the table next to Sunburst laid a red and black cassette, marking the absence of a mech who was no longer in the Autobot base. 

Shockwave disengaged the final sequence, the suppression field stabilizing at a constant low-frequency pulse. The chasm walls vibrated faintly, like a slow heartbeat, but the Dark Energon readings had dropped significantly.

He stepped back, one optic studying the output display until it matched his projected model. “Suppression field: 92% containment. Acceptable parameters.”

The heavy quiet of the tunnels closed in again as he deactivated his tools and locked them into subspace. He turned toward the exit passage, pedes clicking against the worn metal floor.

A tall, familiar silhouette waited just beyond the tunnel mouth. Soundwave inclined his helm slightly in greeting, visor glinting in the low light. “Completion: confirmed,” Shockwave stated.

Soundwave’s reply was a short, clipped vocoder pulse. "Efficiency: expected. Resistance: noted." 

Shockwave paused mid-step. “Unicron… reacted. Attempted counter-resonance. It failed.” His tone held no pride—just cold reporting. “If this connection persists, Sunburst will remain a conduit.”

Soundwave tilted his head, unreadable. "Starscream. Megatron. Test: in progress."

Shockwave’s optic narrowed slightly. “You believe this is deliberate?” 

"Belief: irrelevant. Observation: imperative." Soundwave stared for what felt like forever at Shockwave. 

Neither of them spoke again as they began the walk back toward the surface, the faint hum of the suppression field trailing behind them. Reminding them of what was to come.

Chapter Text

The chamber was quiet, save for the low hum of energy that clung to her frame. Sparks of static rolled over her plating as she steadied herself, vents drawing in sharp, measured breaths. Sunburst stood in the training hall, wings spread wide in balance, her optics steady instead of frantic. 

“Again,” Skyfire’s voice carried from the edge of the room, calm but commanding. His arms were folded, helm tilted just slightly as he watched her. 

She ex-vented sharply, bracing as another surge rose through her spark. It started as a flicker—a whisper curling inside her processor, sweet and heavy. Release me.

Her claws flexed, the heat building in her chest, but she held her ground. The floor beneath her talons trembled. For a moment her optics dimmed, focusing inward. The surge threatened to rip free. But instead of lashing out, she bent it. Guided it. The glow crawled through her wings, out to the tips, until it dispersed in a wave of harmless light across the room. The static bled away, leaving the silence to return.

Skyfire’s expression eased, a flicker of pride breaking through the usual reserve. “Better. You contained it longer this time.”

Sunburst straightened, wings shuddering faintly before tucking close. “It still slipped,” she muttered, almost ashamed.  

From the doorway, another presence stirred—Starscream, his sharp silhouette cutting into the dim light. He had been watching without announcing himself, and only now stepped forward, optics narrowing on her frame. He’d seen the tremor, the subtle way her systems overheated during the effort. 

“You’re older now,” Starscream said, tone clipped but carrying an edge of something unspoken. Concern, buried beneath his usual sharpness. “Old enough to understand that control does not mean silence. What you did just now was not failure.” 

Sunburst’s gaze flicked toward him, uncertain. “Then what do you call it?” Starscream’s wings shifted with a restless twitch, as if the word tasted wrong even in his own mouth. “Survival.”

The hum of her systems eased, though faint warmth still clung to her vents. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the whispers could always be bent, reshaped, redirected. But even as she stood there, optics bright and spark steady, she knew the voice lingered. Waiting. 

Patience, it crooned, deep and distant. Even the strongest cages break.

The echoes of dispersing energy still lingered when Ratchet stepped in, datapad in hand, his optics narrowing at the faint scorch marks that streaked the chamber walls. He made a low sound in his throat—not quite disapproval, but not satisfaction either.

“Your control has improved,” he said, tone clinical as he approached, scanning the residual readings. His visor pulsed faintly, adjusting. “Significantly, compared to where you were.” 

Sunburst ex-vented, shoulders sinking. “That’s what Skyfire said,” she muttered, wings twitching low. 

“Yes, well,” Ratchet continued, not looking up, “Skyfire isn’t the one cataloging the failures of your systems every orn. I am. And for the record, they’re not as catastrophic as they once were. Your stabilizers don’t lock anymore. Spark resonance hasn’t dipped below critical in… what? A full cycle?” 

Starscream’s helm snapped toward him, his wings giving a sharp flick. “Longer,” he interjected, a defensive edge buried under the crispness of his voice. “Years, actually. She hasn’t had an uncontrolled episode since the last planetary rotation.”

Ratchet finally glanced up, optics narrowing at Starscream’s interruption. “Yes. Years,” he conceded, though his field crackled faintly. “But I am not ready to call that success. The suppression grid keeps her aligned, but it also keeps her tethered. You don’t need me to remind you how dangerous that balance is.” 

The word years hung heavy between them—not in argument, but in acknowledgment. A gulf of time that had reshaped them all. Sunburst, no longer the trembling, sparkling mech unable to steady her frame, but something sharper, older—a mechling standing on the edge of her own strength.

Ratchet circled Sunburst now, scanning along her plating. The datapad hummed as streams of numbers flickered. “Heat levels are still higher than normal during exertion. Residual Unicronian resonance spikes during stress. But—” He paused, checking the readout again, his voice softening ever so slightly. “But you’ve learned to mask it. To fight it. That’s… something.”

Sunburst’s optics dimmed a fraction, relief flickering in her field, but she caught the hesitation under his words. Something was not the same as enough.

Starscream, however, stepped forward, his shadow falling across both of them. “She is stronger,” he said flatly, a tone that dared Ratchet to disagree. “Whatever cages you’ve built, whatever chains she bears—she is more than them.”

Ratchet didn’t argue. Instead, he keyed a note into his datapad, optics still on Sunburst. “Perhaps. But strength is not immunity. And if Unicron pushes harder…” His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, softer now, though edged with unease. “We may not have the luxury of time again.” 

Sunburst left the training chamber with a quiet nod, datapad clutched to her side, wings drawn close to her frame. Starscream watched her go, optics fixed on her until the door shut and the sound of her steps faded down the corridor. Only then did Ratchet break the silence.

“You know it’s only a matter of time,” Ratchet said, voice low but firm. Starscream didn’t look at him. His wings twitched sharply, a defense more than a tell. “You sound so certain.”

“I am certain,” Ratchet pressed, stepping closer. “The suppression works, yes, but it is a patchwork solution. Her spark still resonates with his. That hasn’t changed, not in all these years. Do you think a being like Unicron waits forever?”

Starscream’s claws flexed tight against his arms. “She has lasted this long,” he countered. “She has learned control. Discipline. She is not some helpless protoform waiting to be claimed.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “She is not the danger, Starscream. He is. And when he pushes harder—when he finally breaks through—her strength will not matter. Neither will yours. And if that happens, we won’t have cycles to debate options. We’ll have kliks.” 

The words landed heavy. Starscream ex-vented harshly, wings flaring, lip curling into something caught between a snarl and a grimace. “You would have me admit it’s hopeless? That all this—” He gestured sharply toward the sealed door where Sunburst had gone. “—everything we have fought for, clawed for, bled for—was only buying us time before you carve her open and call it necessary?” 

Ratchet’s field pulsed sharp, frustrated, but his voice stayed even. “No. I would have you face the truth before it blindsides you. You think you’re protecting her, but if you let yourself believe this stalemate can last forever, you will condemn her faster than anyone else.” 

For a long moment, Starscream said nothing. His optics burned bright, wings tight, every line of him rigid with resistance. But then, slowly—just barely—his shoulders sagged. 

“She deserves more than inevitability,” Starscream muttered, almost to himself. “She does,” Ratchet said, softer now. “Which is why you cannot ignore what’s coming. We all need to be ready. Even her.”

Starscream finally turned, meeting Ratchet’s gaze, brittle but unflinching. “I know,” he said at last. The words cost him. But he didn’t retract them.

Later, in the command chamber, the steady hum of consoles filled the silence between Optimus and Ratchet. The Prime stood with his hands folded behind his back, optics turned toward the holographic projection of Cybertron’s scarred surface. Ratchet lingered at the edge of the table, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“She’s stable for now,” Ratchet began, breaking the quiet, “but that’s all it is—for now. The suppression is working, yes, but it’s temporary. We are deluding ourselves if we think Unicron will remain confined indefinitely.”

Optimus turned slowly, his expression calm but solemn. “You believe the containment will fail.” 

“I know it will,” Ratchet said sharply, his tone carrying years of weary certainty. “It isn’t a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. And when it does, Prime, it won’t just be Sunburst at risk. It will be all of us.”

Optimus inclined his helm slightly, acknowledging the truth in his words. “And Starscream?” Ratchet ex-vented hard, his optics narrowing. “He’s clinging to her like a lifeline. I can’t fault him for it—not with what she means to him—but he refuses to accept the truth. He’ll fight to the last servo to deny it, even if it costs him the very thing he’s trying to protect.”

Optimus’ gaze dropped briefly, as if weighing the words against a burden already heavy. “Starscream has always resisted surrender. It is both his flaw and his strength.” He looked back to Ratchet, his voice quiet but steady. “But he has also chosen differently, in ways none of us once believed possible. That must not be forgotten.”

Ratchet frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned forward, planting his servos on the edge of the table. “We need a plan, Optimus. Not just suppression, not just containment—a real plan. Something that doesn’t rely on hope or wishful thinking. Because if Unicron pushes through her fully, there will be no second chances.”

Optimus’ optics narrowed, his field measured but intense. “Agreed. But we will not condemn her preemptively. Not while she remains herself.” 

“Then we’re walking a razor’s edge,” Ratchet countered. “And if Starscream can’t see the drop beneath us, then it falls to us to keep balance.” The Prime studied him a moment, then inclined his helm again. “Then we prepare—for both outcomes. And we continue to place trust in her strength. And in his.”

Ratchet’s mouth pressed thin. He didn’t argue further, but the doubt lingered in the set of his frame.

The silence between them stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the base’s machinery. Ratchet ex-vented slowly, his optics narrowing as he studied Optimus more closely. The Prime’s posture was as steady as ever, but there was a subtle stiffness in the way he held himself, the faint lag in his movements, the dimmer glow in his optics. Ratchet had seen it building for some time, but it was harder to ignore now. 

“You’re weakening,” Ratchet said at last, not accusing, just stating it plainly. 

Optimus didn’t deny it. His optics flickered faintly, then lowered to the table’s projection. “The Matrix exacts its toll. And the cycles of war have left their mark upon my frame.”

Ratchet’s jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this pace forever, Optimus. You’re holding the line out of sheer force of will, and even that has its limits. Sooner or later, your body will give out. And when it does—” He cut himself short, shaking his head. “We need to be prepared.”

Optimus met his gaze again, calm but unflinching. “I am prepared.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Ratchet pressed. “I’m talking about succession. About what happens when you can’t lead anymore.”

The weight of the words settled heavily in the chamber. Optimus was quiet, his optics narrowing slightly. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost reflective. “I have considered it. More than I care to admit.” Ratchet tilted his helm. “And?”

Optimus’ gaze lingered on the holographic map, the scars etched into Cybertron’s surface. “There is one among us who has already borne the weight of failure, who has struggled with his nature more than most, yet still chooses to stand beside us despite every reason not to. One who, if given the chance, could embody not perfection, but resilience.” 

It took a moment for Ratchet to realize who he meant. His optics widened slightly. “Starscream,” he said flatly. Optimus inclined his helm.

Ratchet barked a laugh—humorless and sharp. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I am,” Optimus answered evenly. “Starscream has changed. Slowly, reluctantly, but undeniably. His loyalty to Sunburst is proof of that change. He has not abandoned her, though every instinct of self-preservation would once have driven him to do so.”

Ratchet’s expression tightened. “Or it’s proof that he’ll cling to what serves his own interests. He’s still prideful, arrogant, and reckless. You want to hand him the Matrix and expect him not to—” He gestured sharply, searching for the words. “—not to burn everything down with it?”

Optimus’ optics dimmed faintly, but his voice remained steady. “I do not expect him to be me. I expect him to be himself. And perhaps that is what Cybertron will need—someone who understands survival not only as victory, but as endurance. Someone who can stand against the chaos within himself as much as without.”

Ratchet’s field rippled with unease. He leaned back from the table, arms crossed tight. “If you’re wrong…” he muttered.

The words hung heavy between them. For once, Ratchet had no sharp retort. He just stared at the Prime for a long moment before finally muttering, “…You're a stubborn aft.”

Optimus allowed the faintest smile, brief and tired, to touch his mouth. “So I have been told.”

The sound of metal tearing rang through the Nemesis’ lower halls, sharp and violent, echoing like a war cry in the empty space. Megatron’s claws dug into the plating he had ripped from the wall, his vents pulling harsh, uneven intakes. Sparks scattered where the bulkhead had given way, hissing out against the floor.

“Frag it all,” Megatron snarled under his breath, optics blazing, shoulders heaving with rage he could no longer cage. The weight pressing down on his spark was relentless—Unicron’s whisper threaded through his processor, subtle but suffocating. Each cycle it grew harder to resist, harder to remember the warlord he had once been.

He swung his arm, sending the warped panel crashing against the opposite wall with enough force to dent the steel.

The impact was followed by the sound of slow, deliberate pedesteps. Tarn emerged from the shadows, his helm tilted, his movements almost lazy. The insignia carved across his mask glinted faintly in the low light.

“My liege,” Tarn drawled, his tone sickly smooth, “such displays of temper… unbecoming of one who once commanded legions.” He gestured idly to the mangled wall. “Your resolve weakens. It shows in every frayed order, every unchecked failure among your ranks.”

Megatron’s glare snapped toward him, sharp enough to cut. “Careful, Tarn.” His voice was low, growling from deep in his chest. “You forget yourself.”

But Tarn didn’t stop. He stepped closer, optics narrowing behind his mask. “Do I? Or is it you who has forgotten? Forgotten what it means to command—to lead with strength instead of hesitation. Knockout and Breakdown humiliated on Earth. Starscream wandering under Autobot optics like some wayward whelp. Even your precious Soundwave—slipping from your grasp, bending toward sentiment instead of loyalty.”

Megatron’s claws flexed, scraping metal as his temper flared hotter. “Face it,” Tarn said, his voice dropping to a dark purr. “You can’t control them anymore. Your crew fragments, your enemies grow bolder, and you…” He cocked his helm, savoring the pause. “…you are dying with every breath Unicron steals from you.”

For a moment, silence hung, sharp as the edge of a blade. Then Megatron surged forward, snarling, seizing Tarn by the throat cabling with a grip that could crush stone. He slammed the masked mech into the wall, denting it deep, his optics burning bright.

“I am not dead yet,” Megatron growled, his voice a thunderclap. “And as long as I draw breath, Tarn, you will remember your place.”

Tarn’s vents hissed, his hands resting lightly against Megatron’s forearm—neither fighting back nor submitting entirely, only testing the warlord’s strength. Even through the chokehold, his voice came low and mocking. “Then prove it.”

Megatron’s grip tightened until the cabling in Tarn’s neck creaked under the pressure. But Tarn wasn’t content to play the victim. With a guttural snarl muffled behind his mask, he drove his knee hard into Megatron’s midsection, the force jarring the warlord backward a step.

Megatron recovered fast, optics flaring hotter, claws arcing into a brutal swipe that left a score across Tarn’s chestplate. Sparks spat out of the wound, sizzling against the floor.

“Is this what you wanted?” Megatron spat, each word soaked in venom. “To test me? To measure if I still bleed?”

Tarn lunged forward, grappling Megatron’s arms, the screech of metal grinding against metal filling the chamber as the two titans locked. His voice came rough, strained, but still carried that mocking edge.

“I want to see if you are still worthy of being followed,” Tarn hissed, pushing against Megatron’s strength with his own. “If the mech who rose from the Pits still lives beneath this… shadow.”

Megatron roared and slammed Tarn into the floor, the impact shuddering through the deck plates. Tarn twisted beneath him, bracing with one arm as his other swung up, his bladed servo slashing across Megatron’s shoulder. Energon welled, rich violet, dripping hot and heavy.

The sight only seemed to ignite Megatron further. He bared his denta, optics alight with fury, and hammered his fist into Tarn’s helm, once, twice, denting the mask but not breaking it. Tarn’s laugh rang out through the clash—dark, guttural, reveling in the violence.

“Yes!” Tarn howled. “That’s the warlord I serve!” 

Megatron snarled, forcing Tarn back down with one hand at his chest, the other pressed to his throat once more. “You do not serve me,” he growled, voice low and cutting, “you obey me.”

The air between them vibrated with the raw heat of their fields clashing, dominance colliding with defiance. Tarn’s vents rasped as he strained against the grip, and for a moment it seemed neither would yield.

Then, a sharp voice cut through the violence. “Are you both insane?!” 

Nickel’s smaller frame stormed into the chamber, her plating flared in outrage, optics burning with frustration. She stomped forward, fearless despite the carnage between the two giants. 

“You’re tearing chunks out of each other like feral scraplets while Unicron’s rot seeps deeper into the planet—and into you, Megatron!” Her voice cracked with the weight of her fury. “If you keep wasting your strength like this, there’ll be nothing left to fight him with!” 

Megatron froze, his claws still poised to crush. Tarn’s vents hissed, but he stilled beneath the warlord’s weight, optics glinting faintly behind the dented mask.

For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the hum of the Nemesis and the faint hiss of leaking energon. 

Slowly, Megatron released his grip and pushed himself back, his vents dragging in ragged pulls. He rose to his full height, towering, optics blazing—but steadier now, more in control. Tarn remained on the floor, his laughter low and rasping, optics locked on Megatron with something almost reverent.

Nickel’s vents cycled hard as she glared up at both of them, her tiny fists clenched. “One of you needs to start acting like a leader,” she spat, “and the other needs to remember when to stop testing him.”

Megatron’s gaze lingered on Tarn a moment longer before shifting to Nickel. “You presume much,” he rumbled. But there was no denying her words had pierced the haze.

Megatron straightened to his full height, looming over Tarn, energon still dripping from the wound in his shoulder. His frame radiated sheer command, his field expanding outward like a tidal wave, suffocating in its weight.

“You forget your place, Tarn,” he said, his tone a sharpened blade, every syllable carrying finality. “You are not here to question my resolve. You are here to enforce it. Without me, you are nothing but a zealot shouting into the void.”

Tarn stirred, pushing himself halfway up, but Megatron’s clawed hand snapped down and pressed him flat again, pinning him effortlessly. The force wasn’t raw rage anymore—it was deliberate, measured, undeniable power.

Megatron leaned close, his optics burning into Tarn’s. “I am still the gladiator of Kaon. I am still the Prime-killer. And I will decide when I am finished. Do you understand me?”

Tarn’s vents rasped beneath the pressure. The fight had drained out of him, but his optics glowed with a fanatic’s hunger. He let out a low, ragged laugh. “Yes… Megatron. You’ve never burned brighter.”

Megatron’s grip tightened once more, not in fury but in emphasis, before he released him. Tarn fell back against the floor, chest heaving, his frame trembling as if the very act of being forced down had fed his obsession further.

Nickel watched with narrowed optics, but even she couldn’t deny what had just unfolded. Megatron hadn’t wasted his strength—he had demonstrated it.

As Megatron turned from Tarn, his field flared outward again, reverberating across the ship like a seismic wave of dominance. And somewhere far from the Nemesis, Sunburst stirred violently in her berth.

Her vitals spiked, monitors shrilling as her frame arched against restraints Ratchet had placed for safety. Her optics burned with flickering light, fragments of Unicron’s voice bleeding through her thoughts—twisted echoes feeding on Megatron’s surge of will.

She clutched at her helm, vents ragged, half-formed words escaping her lips. “…he…he rises…he…commands…”

Ratchet cursed under his breath, already shouting for assistance as the readings threatened to overload. 

In the shadows of her mind, the whisper of Unicron grew stronger, stirred by the clash of dominance across the bond.

Yes… feel it… the warlord’s fire feeds the abyss. Through him, through you, I will rise again.

The alarms in the medbay didn’t stop when Ratchet adjusted the regulators. Sunburst’s frame convulsed once more, then her optics went blank—her body still, as if something else had claimed her entirely.

Inside her mindscape, the world unfolded into shadow. Blackened ground stretched endlessly, cracked with glowing rivers of molten orange. Above her, a sky of roiling ash churned, suffocating, heavy with a voice that seemed to seep from every fissure.

You feel it, child.

Unicron’s tone was silk wrapped around iron, slithering through her spark. The warlord’s defiance feeds you as much as it feeds me. You are bound to him—bound to all of them. And through that bond, I will have you.

Sunburst staggered, clutching her helm. Her vents rasped, fear coiling in her chest. But she forced herself upright, optics narrowing against the oppressive glow of the abyss. “I’m not yours,” she spat, her voice shaking but strong enough to echo. “I belong to no one.”

Unicron’s laugh rumbled like tectonic plates grinding against each other. Defiance. Yes. So much like them. But defiance is nothing without strength.

The ground trembled—and from the cracks rose twisted shapes of metal, grotesque silhouettes of mechs she knew. Starscream’s wings bent and sharpened into blades. Megatron’s massive form loomed with hollow optics, his fusion cannon leaking fire. Even Ratchet’s familiar frame warped into something jagged, his hands replaced with instruments of torture.

They advanced on her slowly, their movements jerky but deliberate, eyes burning with Unicron’s flame.

Sunburst’s spark hammered. She stumbled back, fists clenching, her vents ragged. “No—”

Yes, the voice thundered. If you are strong enough to deny me, prove it. Destroy them. Or be consumed by them.

The shades lunged. 

Sunburst’s instincts roared—her hand shot out, claws of searing energy sparking to life along her forearm, an echo of Unicron’s gift. She slashed one of the phantoms across the chest, watching it burst into molten fragments. For a flicker of a moment, she felt power course through her, undeniable and intoxicating. 

Then she froze—because the next phantom was Starscream, his familiar sneer twisted into something monstrous, his voice ringing with Unicron’s cruelty. You can’t save them, little one. You will only destroy.

Her optics darted, torn between the urge to strike and the dread of losing herself in the act. 

Sunburst’s vents screamed with strain as the amalgam of Starscream pressed toward her. Its wings scraped the molten sky, its voice warped, dripping venom that wasn’t his. Strike, little spark. Show me who you are.

Her claws burned white-hot, trembling in her hands. She didn’t want to—Primus, she didn’t want to. But the phantom’s optics glared into hers, the voice burrowing deeper, until she lashed out in pure panic.

The strike connected. The phantom crumbled into shards of fire and ash—and in the real world, Starscream staggered back from her berth, wings flaring in pain. A gash seared across his chest plating, raw energy sparking from the wound. He’d been leaning over her, trying to reach her, to drag her back from whatever grip Unicron had over her mind—only to be met with her uncontrolled strike.

“Frag—!” Starscream choked, clutching the wound. His optics flashed wide, equal parts pain and disbelief. 

Sunburst jolted awake, optics blazing with residual fire. For a moment she didn’t know where she was—the medbay blurred, alarms screaming, Ratchet shouting something she couldn’t process.

Then her gaze locked on Starscream—her creator, her mother—reeling back with scorched plating, energon streaking his talons. 

“No,” she rasped, her hands curling against her chest. Her spark hammered so hard it hurt. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t—”

Starscream steadied himself against the console, wings trembling as he tried to glare and comfort at the same time. “It wasn’t you,” he said, though his voice strained. “It was him.”

But Unicron’s laugh echoed faintly in her helm, a cruel whisper only she could hear.

Was it?

Sunburst curled forward, shaking, torn between terror and guilt as Ratchet rushed to Starscream’s side. 

The medbay still smelled of scorched plating and antiseptic when Optimus arrived. The low thrum of the ground bridge sealed behind him, leaving only the sound of Ratchet’s tools clinking as he finished sealing Starscream’s chest wound.

Starscream sat rigid on the berth, wings drawn close despite the welds holding firm across his plating. His optics flicked once toward Optimus but said nothing, his talons curled protectively over the faint glow where the cut had been.

Sunburst sat in the corner of the bay, knees drawn to her chest, vents hitching as though she couldn’t pull enough air into her frame. She refused to look at anyone—especially him. 

Ratchet didn’t bother softening his tone. “She lashed out in the middle of the episode. Her spark energy flared and discharged through her plating. Starscream was too close.” 

Optimus’s optics dimmed a fraction. “And the wound?” 

“Stable. He’ll recover,” Ratchet said, though his servo lingered against the weld site for a klik longer than necessary. “But if it had struck any deeper, we’d be discussing fatal damage.” His optics cut sharply to Sunburst, then back to Optimus. “She didn’t just defend herself. She projected.”

At that, Starscream snapped his wings open, his voice still hoarse but edged with steel. “It was not her fault. She was under duress. If I hadn’t interfered—”

“You did interfere,” Ratchet countered, his words clipped. “And now you’ve got a scar to remind you why.”

The silence after that was heavy.

Optimus stepped closer, his gaze steady on Sunburst, though his words reached all of them. “Unicron’s grasp deepens.” He folded his servos before him, his voice quiet but resonant. “This was not simply an episode. It was a test—and she was forced to strike against the one she is bound to most strongly. That he yet functions is a mercy.”

Sunburst’s optics flicked up at last, wet and wide, guilt tearing through her voice. “I didn’t want to. I swear I didn’t.”

Starscream shifted, ignoring Ratchet’s hiss of protest as he moved closer to her, resting one servo lightly against her shoulder. His wings sagged low, more tired than angry now. “And I told you—it wasn’t you.”

Optimus’s optics lingered on both of them, his helm tilting slightly as if weighing something deeper. Then he looked to Ratchet again. “This cannot continue unchecked. The longer she remains vulnerable, the greater the risk to all.”

Ratchet’s field bristled. “I’ve already said it—containment won’t hold forever. We’re buying time, not solving the problem.”

Starscream’s glare cut sharp enough to kill, his talons flexing against Sunburst’s shoulder. “She’s not a problem.”

“No,” Optimus agreed, his voice grave but soft. “She is a life. And because of that truth—we must find a path forward before Unicron decides for us.”

The silence in the medbay was suffocating, broken only by the low hiss of coolant cycling through the vents. Starscream stood beside Sunburst, wings pulled taut against his frame, his claws still resting protectively over her shoulder. His field bristled like static, daring anyone—even Optimus—to push further.

Optimus did.

“You cannot shield her from this forever, Starscream.” His voice was even, steady as stone, but the weight behind it pressed down harder than any order. “Ignorance will not change what is happening. It will only hasten its consequence.”

Starscream bared his denta. “And what would you have me do? Tear into her spark myself? Strip away what remains until there’s nothing but a husk?”

Ratchet flinched at the venom in his voice but didn’t intervene.

Optimus stepped closer, his optics narrowing faintly. “You mistake me. I do not speak of destruction. I speak of survival. You lived under Megatron’s hold, bound to his command, suffocated by his shadow. And yet you chose to sever yourself from him. Painful though it was, it was survival.”

Starscream froze, wings twitching. “That was different.”

“Was it?” Optimus’s tone sharpened. “Unicron holds Sunburst now as Megatron once held you. One thread tighter each cycle. If you continue to treat her condition as a storm to be weathered rather than an enemy to be faced, then you condemn her to the same fate you once fled.”

Starscream’s claws curled tighter on Sunburst’s shoulder, as if holding her was proof enough that he could stop this. His optics burned at Optimus, but beneath the fire was hesitation—fear.

“She’s not a weapon,” Starscream spat, but the words sounded less certain now.

“No,” Optimus agreed, softer now, his voice carrying something almost like sorrow. “But Unicron is. And he is using her as the blade he cannot wield himself.”

Sunburst’s vents stuttered. Her optics darted between them, fear tightening every line of her frame. “So what do I do?” she whispered, voice small but cutting through the air like glass. “If I fight him… what if I lose? What if I hurt you again?”

Starscream turned immediately, his voice cracking with sharp protectiveness. “You won’t—”

Optimus overrode him gently but firmly. “You must fight because the alternative is not to live. You are not alone in this struggle, Sunburst. Nor are you, Starscream. But do not mistake clinging for saving. To shield her without facing the threat is to let Unicron grow stronger, unchecked.”

Starscream’s lip curled, wings flaring wide in instinctive defiance. “So you would have me what? March into the depths of the planet and strike at him myself?”

Optimus’s optics dimmed slightly. “Perhaps, in time, that is precisely what will be required.”

The words landed heavy, an unspoken truth that rattled the medbay walls.

Starscream went still, his optics flickering down to Sunburst, whose frame trembled under his touch. And for the first time, he didn’t have a retort ready. Only silence, tight and brittle as glass.

Ratchet exhaled sharply, breaking it. “If that’s the road ahead, then we need to prepare her. And him. Before either one of them shatters under the weight of it.”

Optimus nodded once. “Exactly so. Survival demands confrontation—not evasion.” His gaze fell back on Starscream, steady, unwavering. “You once found the strength to sever yourself from Megatron. Find it again, Starscream. For her.”

Starscream’s wings twitched sharply, his vents stuttering. For a moment he kept his frame rigid, posture tight, as though sheer stubbornness could keep Optimus’s words from hitting where they hurt most.

But the silence stretched too long. His claws slipped from Sunburst’s shoulder, falling uselessly to his sides. He turned halfway toward Optimus, optics burning too bright.

“And if I become him?” The words tore from him like shrapnel, sharp and uncontained. “If I try to lead, if I try to fight this the way you want me to—what’s to stop me from becoming the very thing I spent vorns trying to escape?”

Sunburst’s optics widened. Ratchet’s field pulled taut, uncomfortable, but he didn’t interrupt.

Starscream’s wings sagged violently, his whole field unraveling as if the strength he usually clung to had been ripped from him. His voice cracked as he went on:

“You speak of survival. But you forget what survival cost me. I clawed my way out of Megatron’s hold, every cycle scraping against the pit he threw me in. And I look at her—” His claws trembled as he gestured to Sunburst. “—and I see him. I see his shadow staring back at me, through her spark, through mine. If I stand against Unicron, if I stand against this, what if all I do is drag her down into the same darkness that made him?”

His optics darted to the ground, his frame folding inward. His voice dropped to a hoarse rasp. “What if that’s all I am capable of? A mirror of his failure.”

The medbay held still. No one moved—not even Sunburst, whose vents had stilled entirely, staring up at him with wide, glassy optics.

Optimus stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his towering shadow falling across Starscream without pressing down. His voice carried none of its usual command now. Just quiet conviction.

“You are not Megatron.”

Starscream’s head snapped up, a glare already rising, but Optimus raised a hand to hold him in place.

“You are Starscream,” Optimus continued. “And every choice you make proves it. You chose to leave his command. You chose to raise Sunburst as yours, not his. And now, when faced with the very darkness that consumed him, you still fight—not for power, not for glory, but for her.”

Optimus’s optics softened, dim but steady. “That is not failure. That is strength.”

Starscream’s field wavered violently, caught between fury and despair. His lip curled, but the sound that left him wasn’t sharp—it was fractured, more like a broken laugh that cracked into something closer to a sob. He pressed his claws to his optics, shaking his helm, wings drooping in total collapse.

For the first time in vorns, Starscream allowed himself to break.

Sunburst reached for him hesitantly, her small servo brushing against his arm. He startled at the touch, but he didn’t pull away.

Ratchet, watching silently, looked to Optimus. His field was grim but edged with something softer—approval, maybe, or quiet gratitude.

Optimus simply inclined his helm. His voice, when it came, was quiet but certain. “You fear becoming him. That fear is precisely why you will not.”

Starscream’s vents hitched once, claws still covering his optics. He didn’t answer, not directly. But for once, he didn’t argue either.

And for Optimus, that was enough.

His quarters were hushed, lit only by the thin spill of starlight from the ceiling windows. Skywarp and Thundercracker fast asleep in their own berths. Starscream sat perched on the edge of his berth, wings drawn tight against his back, claws resting uselessly on a data pad he hadn’t scrolled through in breems. His optics glowed faintly in the dim, sharp but weary.

Skyfire’s pedesteps were soft against the floor as he approached, his presence filling the space long before he settled beside him. He leaned in slightly, big frame careful not to crowd, his voice low. “You’ve been restless.”

Starscream didn’t look up at first. He ex-vented sharply, tossing the pad down with an audible clatter. “Of course I’ve been restless. Wouldn’t you be, knowing the fate of Cybertron lies inside a sparkling’s chest plating?” The words carried their usual edge, but his voice cracked at the end, betraying what his posture tried to hide.

Skyfire’s servo slid over his, long fingers easing carefully between Starscream’s claws. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured.

Starscream stiffened, wings twitching, then sagging as though against his will. “You say that as if it changes the facts. I know what’s coming. Unicron isn’t a shadow I can outfly. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face him.” His claws twitched beneath Skyfire’s touch. “And I intend to.”

Skyfire shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Starscream’s lightly, steady as stone. “You’ve already made your choice. And that means she doesn’t have to carry it alone. Sunburst will have you. And she’ll have me. She'll have your brothers, her uncles.”

Starscream’s optics flicked to him, sharp but uncertain, before dropping again. His wings sagged further, trembling faintly. “Prepare her…” he muttered, the word hollow. “She deserves more than being groomed as a vessel. She deserves a chance at a life. And Primus help me, Skyfire, I’ll tear the universe apart before I let him take that away from her.” His voice wavered on the last words, quiet and raw.

Skyfire tilted his helm, brushing the edge of his against Starscream’s with a tenderness that pulled the tension down another notch. “Then don’t carry that vow by yourself. Let me shoulder it with you.”

For a long moment Starscream didn’t move, vents uneven, claws twitching as if to pull away. But then—hesitant, vulnerable—he leaned sideways into Skyfire’s chest. His wings pressed lightly against Skyfire’s side, shaking before settling.

Skyfire curved an arm around him, careful but firm, and let his free hand trail along the curve of Starscream’s wing strut in slow, reassuring strokes.

Starscream’s words came out muffled against him, trembling. “When this ends… if I don’t walk away from it… keep her safe.”

Skyfire bowed his helm, pressing a light touch against Starscream’s temple, his voice soft. “We’ll both walk away. But if the universe tries to take you from her… I’ll make sure she never forgets who you were.”

Starscream’s claws tightened in Skyfire’s plating, wings quivering before finally easing. He didn’t argue. Not this time.

The silence that followed was tender, the faint hum of their vents syncing as the weight of tomorrow lingered at the edges of their closeness—but for tonight, Starscream let himself be held. 

The chamber was empty when Megatron shuttered his optics. Cold. Quiet. Or it should have been.

Instead, the silence pressed in, thick and smothering, until the edges of his consciousness pulled downward. Darkness surged like a tide. When he opened his optics again, he was no longer within the walls of his ship but standing on a jagged black plain beneath a sky that bled fire.

A voice coiled through the air—deep, resonant, and ancient.

“So… the gladiator remembers me.”

Megatron’s fists clenched at his sides, frame tense. “Unicron.”

The name trembled through the ground itself, the world shuddering as if to acknowledge its master. A monstrous silhouette formed in the distance, too vast to comprehend, its voice rolling over him like thunder.

“You seek to change what cannot be changed. Cybertron is ash. Dust. A hollow sphere circling a dying star. To restore it is to deny its fate.”

Megatron’s lip curled. “You speak of fate as though you dictate it. But you fear it—because the one thing you cannot destroy is will.” His voice dropped lower, harsher. “Cybertron will live again. Not as your carcass, not as your hollowed shell, but reborn.”

The laugh that followed was slow and deep, shaking the air. “And who will breathe life into it? You? The Prime you pretend to scorn? Or perhaps the sparkling you have already doomed?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “You twist truths into chains. That is your way. But I have worn chains before—and I shattered them. You mistake survival for surrender. I will not surrender.”

Unicron’s form shifted closer, the heat of its presence suffocating. “What you call survival is only delay. Every world falls, Megatron. Every star dies. Cybertron will feed me, as all worlds must. Even now you feel it—power bleeding from you, your command faltering, your warriors doubting. Is it not easier to let me end the struggle?”

For the first time, the edges of the words slipped like oil, wrong in a way that made Megatron’s spark coil. Lies.

He straightened to his full height, voice sharp as steel. “You offer release only because you fear what I may accomplish. A destroyer does not promise mercy unless he knows he cannot win.”

The silence that followed was not absence but pressure, crushing and heavy. Then came a hiss like molten metal poured onto ice. “…You have learned much since the pits. Perhaps too much.”

The world trembled, fire bleeding into black. Unicron’s shape began to fracture, folding back into the void. “But all your will cannot stop what is coming. And when the last light of Cybertron flickers out, you will remember this: it was not your enemies who doomed you. It was your pride.”

Darkness collapsed inwards. The ground crumbled.

Megatron’s optics snapped open. He was back in his chamber, vents flaring, claws dug deep into the armrest of his throne. Metal buckled beneath his grip, stress fractures running like veins.

He leaned forward, energon-slick lips curling into a snarl. “You will not have her. You will not have Cybertron.”

The words were spoken to an empty chamber, but the echo of Unicron’s laughter lingered in his spark like a scar.

His vents rasped, dragging air through a frame that trembled with restrained rage. The chamber was silent again—truly silent this time—but it did little to steady him.

Megatron stared down at his claws, energon smeared across the edges from where the throne had given beneath his grip. The sight pulled him inward, through memory.

He had thought himself master of his fate when he first tasted Dark Energon, when its fire burned through his lines and magnified his strength. He had taken it as proof—proof that he could wrestle with the fabric of the cosmos itself and win. That he could carve Cybertron’s salvation with his own hands, no matter the cost.

But that same fire had not left him. It lingered. It called. And with every passing cycle, it became harder to deny the truth that seared through him now.

The moment I reached for that corruption… I reached for him.

Unicron had not chosen him. He had chosen Unicron, blindly, arrogantly, convinced he could harness destruction without being consumed by it. In that choice, he had set the course not only of his own downfall but of Cybertron’s peril, dragging all who followed him into the same shadow.

His optics dimmed, lips curling into something between a sneer and a grimace. “I have damned us,” he murmured, voice raw. “Not by weakness… but by strength.”

He rose from the throne, the groan of metal under his weight sharp in the chamber’s stillness.

Cybertron had always been his purpose—his reason for the wars, the bloodshed, the endless grind of resistance against those who called themselves protectors. Yet what had his crusade birthed? A child entangled in the Destroyer’s grasp. A world in chains. A Prime who would outlast him not because of power, but because of restraint.

The irony twisted in his spark like a blade.

He turned from the throne, fists curling again but this time steady, deliberate. “No,” he growled into the silence. “If ruin is to be my legacy, then I will decide when it ends.”

For the first time in vorns, Megatron’s rage was not against Optimus, not against Starscream, not even against the weakness of Cybertron itself. It was against the shadow of his own choices—the Destroyer who had waited at the end of every path he carved.

And if Unicron thought him broken, if he thought the gladiator of Kaon would kneel, then he would learn—too late—that even a mistake could sharpen into a weapon.

Chapter Text

The Nevada sun had barely cleared the horizon when the first clash of metal rang across the barren desert. Sunburst’s optics burned with determination as she staggered to her stance, her spark still simmering with the residue of last night’s drills. Starscream’s shadow fell across the jagged rocks before her, tall and imposing, his wings twitching in barely restrained energy.

“Again,” he barked, his voice cutting through the dry wind like a vibroblade. “Form is nothing without precision. Sparks without control are weapons turned inward. You understand, Sunburst?”

“I… I understand,” she replied, voice tight. Her servos protested with the strain of holding posture under his scrutiny. Each movement was measured, rehearsed, and corrected a dozen times over, yet Starscream’s gaze found every flaw, every tremor of hesitation.

Skyfire hovered nearby, hovering with a calm, almost paternal patience. “Sunburst, remember—control doesn’t come from force alone. Focus on your internal energy flow. Let it guide the attack, not the other way around.”

Sunburst’s optics flickered between the two. Starscream’s precision, Skyfire’s philosophy—they felt like opposing gravities pulling her spark in opposite directions. She squared her shoulders and tried again, this time coordinating her arm servos with the resonance of her spark.

Skywarp and Thundercracker swooped in from the ridge above, the trine brothers’ movements fluid and taunting. “You’re slow, Sunburst,” Skywarp called, smirking. “Predictable. That’s a death sentence in the field.”

“Predictable is fixable,” Thundercracker added, his voice calm but biting. “Show us you’re more than just raw energy.”

Sunburst growled through her processors, charging forward. Her servos whined as she twisted, pivoted, and launched a volley of energy strikes. Starscream’s wings flared to deflect the strikes harmlessly, then he countered with precision, forcing her to retreat.

“Again. And this time, anticipate. You are not a reactive spark; you are a storm,” Starscream commanded, voice low and dangerous. “A storm does not wait. It moves. It destroys.”

Skyfire’s optics glimmered with quiet encouragement. “Remember the resonance pulse we practiced. Let your core dictate the strike, not just your targeting servos.”

Sweat—or its cybernetic equivalent—dampened Sunburst’s plating. Her movements became a blur of controlled force, each strike syncing with the hum of her internal spark. Skywarp zipped close, a mock threat, darting in to test her defenses. Thundercracker mirrored him, and suddenly the training field was a storm of clashing energy and metallic echoes.

Sunburst’s optics narrowed. Her spark flared. She remembered every lesson, every caution, every philosophical note Skyfire had drummed into her. And she moved—not perfectly, but with a flow she could feel in her very circuits.

Starscream watched, silent for a moment. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he engaged fully, forcing Sunburst to react with everything she had. The desert floor exploded with sparks, sand kicked up in clouds of silver and red energy. Her body—her frame—ached, processors and actuators straining against the effort.

And yet, she kept moving.

Skyfire’s voice cut through the roar of the storm. “Good. Not perfect, but improving. Keep your resonance aligned. Predict, don’t just react.”

Sunburst fell to a crouch, spark pulsing like wildfire in her chest. Starscream hovered a meter away, wings vibrating in controlled impatience.

“You survived,” he said, sharp but not unkind. “But survival is not mastery. Mastery… comes when you can predict every strike before it reaches you—and still choose the outcome.”

Skywarp and Thundercracker swooped low in mock salute. “Not bad, Sunburst. Not bad at all,” Skywarp said, though his optics gleamed with playful challenge.

Thundercracker’s voice was softer, almost philosophical. “But this is just the beginning. The desert does not forgive hesitation.”

Sunburst straightened, plating groaning as she flexed joints and servos. Her spark still hummed with adrenaline, but beneath it lay exhaustion, the creeping ache of muscles overtaxed. Yet even in that fatigue, there was a thrill.

Starscream tilted his head, optics narrowing. “Tomorrow, we add another layer. Combat drills. Mental conditioning. Energy suppression under duress. And I assure you… you will fail again. And again. And again. Until you learn that the storm is within you, not outside.”

Sunburst’s spark flickered with a mix of fear and resolve. She did not doubt she would fail. She did not doubt she would be pushed to the edge of her endurance. But she also did not doubt one thing: she would rise through it, storm-born, or collapse in the attempt.

Skyfire’s hum of approval was almost lost beneath the rising desert winds. “Remember, Sunburst, the spark does not just burn—it guides. Trust it.”

The sun climbed higher, turning the desert into a furnace. Sand clung to worn plating, sparks danced erratically in the heat, and yet Sunburst continued. Strike after strike. Feint after feint. A storm in the making.

Above, the trine brothers’ silhouettes darted between clouds of dust, Starscream’s shadow commanding the ground beneath, Skyfire observing all with quiet wisdom.

And somewhere in that crucible, Sunburst’s spark began to burn brighter—not just from strain, but from understanding. The storm was not merely the outside world pressing down on her. It was her.

The sun had climbed to its zenith, casting stark shadows across the jagged Nevada desert. The heat pressed down on Sunburst’s plating, her servos whining with exhaustion, yet Starscream’s gaze cut through the haze like a predator’s.

“Enough of the warm-up,” he snapped. “You have learned to strike. Now, you must learn to endure.”

From the ridges above, Skywarp and Thundercracker dropped with a sonic boom, their forms twisting in the harsh sunlight. “Endure, huh?” Skywarp said, voice dripping mockery. “Sounds like a death sentence.”

“Do not underestimate her,” Thundercracker added, eyes narrowing. “She has spark. That alone can turn the tide if honed properly.”

Starscream’s optics glimmered with a mixture of approval and cold calculation. “Spark without control is useless. Your endurance will be tested against multiple threats, unpredictable assaults, and mental duress. Are you ready, Sunburst?”

Sunburst clenched her fists, grinding her servos in resolve. “I’m ready,” she said, voice steady despite the fatigue gnawing at her processors.

“Good,” Starscream said. With a sweep of his wings, he launched the first assault. Skywarp and Thundercracker moved as one, striking from different angles, forcing Sunburst to pivot, dodge, and counter with every ounce of energy she could muster.

Heat radiated off the desert floor. Sparks flew as Sunburst’s strikes collided with the coordinated assaults of the Trine brothers. Every movement was measured, every counter a gamble. Skyfire hovered nearby, monitoring her energy levels, occasionally adjusting the resonance pulses to keep her spark from overloading.

“Focus, Sunburst!” Skyfire’s voice cut through the clash. “Anticipate, don’t just react! Feel their intentions before they act!”

Her processors whirred, translating Skywarp’s feints and Thundercracker’s strikes into predictive algorithms, her spark surging in response. Yet exhaustion crept in, joints stiffening, reaction times faltering. Sand and debris clung to her plating, scratches marking every near miss.

Starscream pressed the advantage, landing precise strikes meant to test her reflexes and resolve. Each clash was designed to simulate battlefield unpredictability—forcing her to adapt, improvise, and endure.

Skywarp zipped low, a blur of dark metal and red optics. “Pathetic,” he taunted. “Do you feel the exhaustion yet, or is that just me imagining it?”

Sunburst’s spark flared. She barely managed to parry his next strike, her body trembling under the strain. “I… I’m not done,” she said through gritted circuits, energy pulses flickering erratically.

Thundercracker swooped in, blocking Skywarp with a sharp clang of metal. “Enough of words,” he said calmly. “Let your actions speak.”

For the next hour, the desert became a crucible. Sunburst faced simultaneous strikes from the Trine brothers while Starscream alternated between combat instruction and tactical correction. Every failed block, every misstep, was met with instant critique. Every success, no matter how small, was a brief acknowledgment before the next challenge arrived.

The mental strain was as punishing as the physical. Starscream’s commands were relentless, Skyfire’s guidance demanding, the Trine brothers’ taunts cutting through her focus. Sunburst’s spark flickered, testing her ability to maintain clarity under pressure.

And yet, somewhere in the chaos, she found rhythm. Not perfect rhythm, but enough to survive, enough to anticipate one strike, one feint, one deceptive movement before it arrived. She could feel her spark stretching, aligning, becoming more than raw energy—it became a tool, a weapon, and a shield.

Starscream hovered above her, wings casting long shadows. “Good,” he said, sharp but approving. “You are learning that the storm is not just outside you. It is inside you. Harness it, and you can withstand anything.”

Skyfire glided closer, optics soft with subtle pride. “Yes. But do not mistake endurance for mastery. There is more to learn, Sunburst. More than just surviving.”

The Trine brothers landed lightly, their movements graceful despite exhaustion. “Not bad, Sunburst,” Skywarp said. “Your spark… it burns brighter than I expected.”

Thundercracker nodded. “But this is only the beginning. The desert teaches harsh lessons, and there are storms far worse than this.”

Sunburst fell to her knees, servos straining as she flexed joints and dissipated energy. Her spark pulsed erratically, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm, yet beneath it all was a flicker of understanding—a realization that every strike, every push, every failure, was shaping her into something stronger.

Starscream’s voice cut through the desert wind one final time for the session. “Rest. Recharge. Tomorrow, we push further. You will face not only endurance but control under stress, under threat, under your own failing spark. Only then will you begin to understand what it truly means to be a storm.”

Sunburst’s spark pulsed weakly, her body trembling from the punishing drills. But her optics glimmered with resolve. She would endure. She would master the storm inside her.

And when she did, she would be unstoppable.

The silence of the warship was suffocating. Megatron stood alone in one of the abandoned foundries aboard, the air thick with the scent of scorched alloy and disuse. The machinery had long gone cold, but his rage was fire enough.

He slammed his fist into a steel beam, the echo reverberating down the empty corridors. The metal buckled, groaning under the weight of his fury. He struck again, harder, until fragments cracked away, showering the floor in sparks.

It wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was.

Tarn’s words gnawed at him still. Your resolve weakens. Your crew sees it. They whisper of your failure to command.

Failure. The word alone was poison.

He turned from the fractured beam, optics narrowing as he stalked deeper into the shadows. Once, these places had been alive with Decepticon purpose—miners reforging weapons, warriors sharpening blades, the hum of a cause that had felt unstoppable. Now? Hollow silence. A silence that mocked him.

Megatron’s claws flexed as he fought the impulse to strike again. His frame trembled, not from weakness, but from something deeper. A crack in the iron resolve that had once made entire legions kneel.

Dark Energon. The thought seared through him unbidden, unwelcome. He remembered its taste, its corruption—its power. He remembered believing he had harnessed it, bent it to his will. But now, in the stillness, he could no longer deny what lingered at the edge of his spark: the realization that in reaching for that power, he had given something else the foothold it needed.

Unicron.

He snarled at the name, his claws digging into the scorched wall until metal shrieked under the pressure. “You will not claim me,” he spat aloud, as if defiance alone could sever the connection.

But in the silence that followed, there was no reassurance. Only the hollow echo of his voice, swallowed by the dark.

Megatron drew a long vent, optics shuttering as fragments of memory returned unbidden. The gladiator pits. The roars of the crowds. The scent of energon thick in the air. He had fought then to defy the Council, to stand for something greater than himself. His cause had been pure once—or so he had convinced himself.

Now, staring into the void, he wondered if all of it—all the sacrifice, the cruelty, the empire—had merely been paving a road for the Chaos Bringer.

And for the first time in countless vorns, Megatron felt something he despised: doubt.

He pressed his claws together, forcing the tremor from his hands. No. Doubt was weakness. And weakness was not something he would allow—not in himself, not in his army. Tarn would not see it. Soundwave would not see it. Unicron would not see it.

Still, the silence pressed on him, heavy and unrelenting. He realized then that no amount of denial would keep the truth buried. The corruption of Dark Energon was not something he had merely wielded—it was something he had carried, something that had followed him, tainted him, since the moment he’d let it touch his spark.

The beam beside him lay crumpled, fractured beyond repair. He stared at it, his optics dimming, the metaphor not lost on him.

“…Have I already doomed us all?” Megatron muttered, the words bitter ash in his vocalizer.

For a long while, there was no answer. Just the sound of his vents cycling, the weight of memory pressing down.

But somewhere—faint, subtle, almost imperceptible—he thought he felt it. A presence curling at the edges of his spark, dark and vast, whispering promises of power and inevitability.

Megatron straightened, his expression hardening, hiding the fear he refused to name. If Unicron thought to break him with whispers, he would find that Megatron was not so easily shattered.

Not yet.

Megatron strode from the foundry with long, deliberate steps, his frame still bristling with contained fury. The corridors of the Nemesis echoed with his weight, a sound that once inspired fear and obedience. Now, it carried through half-empty halls where whispers of dissent lingered.

He would not allow it.

When he entered the command deck, the air shifted. Warriors who had been murmuring to each other stiffened, posture snapping to attention under his gaze. Soundwave stood at his post, silent and observant as ever, visor flickering with readouts. Shockwave lingered at the tactical console, one optic turning toward him with clinical detachment. Tarn and the rest of the DJD were notably absent, a fact that sharpened Megatron’s scowl.

“Report,” he growled, his voice like grinding stone.

Shockwave’s optic glowed faintly. “Energy reserves remain strained. Repair drones have restored eighty-four percent of internal systems, but combat readiness has not yet reached optimal levels. Several units still operate at half efficiency.”

Megatron paced in front of the console, claws curling at his sides. Half efficiency. Half obedience. Unacceptable.

“And the troops?” he demanded, his optics flaring toward Soundwave.

Soundwave’s head inclined, silent, then his monotone voice carried across the chamber: “Cohesion… deteriorating. Command structure destabilized. Tarn’s influence… divisive.”

Megatron’s scowl deepened, though he had already known the truth. Tarn’s whispers of purity, his devotion to the “old Megatron,” were a poison bleeding through the ranks. The irony was not lost on him—he had once demanded unyielding loyalty, and now another wore that same mantle to tear his army apart.

He slammed his fist against the railing, the sound reverberating through the deck. “Enough.”

The warriors flinched. Shockwave remained unmoved. Soundwave tilted his helm but said nothing.

“You are Decepticons,” Megatron thundered. “Forged in the fire of revolution, tempered in war! You will not fracture under whispers and doubts. You will stand, as you always have, because I command it!”

His optics swept across them, daring any to meet his gaze. None did. Not even Shockwave, whose silence stretched just long enough to sting.

Megatron drew in a long, steady vent. “Re-establish the command lines. Report directly to Soundwave. Any insubordination is to be met with immediate reprisal. If Tarn or his disciples question my authority, they will be reminded whose symbol they wear upon their chassis.”

He turned, his voice dropping lower but no less dangerous. “And make no mistake… I will not allow this army to crumble. Not when the true enemy waits for us in the shadows.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Soundwave inclined his head once more, almost imperceptibly—an acknowledgment, or perhaps the closest thing to loyalty Megatron could expect.

Shockwave resumed his calculations without protest, though his optic lingered on Megatron longer than it needed to.

Megatron stood tall at the center of the deck, optics fixed on the void beyond the viewport. His reflection stared back at him in the glass: battered, scarred, unyielding.

Let Tarn whisper. Let his forces falter. Let Unicron think himself inevitable.

He was Megatron. And Megatron would rebuild.

The barracks stank of neglect. Armor plates, energon rations, discarded weapon parts littered the floor where discipline had once kept every mech sharp and efficient. Now, the Decepticons lounged or argued, their voices low and bitter, until the doors hissed open with a mechanical snarl.

Megatron stepped inside.

The conversations died instantly. His crimson optics burned across the room, sweeping over every faceplate, daring them to meet his gaze. None did.

“You grow idle,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy, each word a hammer. “Idle, when the universe sharpens its teeth.”

A voice broke the silence—raspy, half-defiant. “Idle because there’s nothing left to fight for. The cause is gone, Megatron. You left it behind.”

The words struck the chamber like a shockwave. Optics flickered nervously.

Megatron turned toward the speaker—a stocky flier, wings hunched and armor worn. His defiance trembled, but he did not look away.

Megatron’s steps echoed as he crossed the floor. He stopped before the flier, towering over him. “You mistake your cowardice for truth,” Megatron said softly, claws flexing. “You believe the cause is gone because you no longer have the strength to carry it.”

The flier sneered, but the bravado cracked. “Maybe Tarn was right—”

That was the last word he managed.

Megatron’s hand closed around his throat and slammed him against the wall. Metal shrieked as plating buckled. Gasps rippled through the room as the flier clawed uselessly at Megatron’s grip.

“I forged this army!” Megatron roared, the chamber vibrating with his fury. “Every victory you cling to, every scrap of survival you enjoy, was bought with my will! You will not invoke another’s name in my presence!”

The flier’s optics dimmed as Megatron tightened his hold—then, at the last second, he hurled him to the ground. The mech collapsed, coughing and broken, but alive.

Megatron turned back to the room. His frame radiated power, his voice a blade cutting the silence.

“Your loyalty is not to Tarn. Not to his whispers, or his false purity. Your loyalty is to the Decepticons, and to me. If you cannot remember that…” His optics flared, casting the room in crimson. “Then I will remind you, one by one.”

Silence. Pure, choking silence.

Then, slowly, mechs began to rise. Wings straightened, spines stiffened, weapons were set aside. The atmosphere shifted—fear laced with the cold gravity of obedience.

Megatron stood at the center, unyielding, victorious in this small battle. His fist was still clenched, energon flecked across the armor. But his optics, for a flicker of a second, betrayed the truth: every reminder of loyalty cost him more to maintain.

Still, he raised his arm, pointing toward the training floor. “Reformation begins now. Drills, combat rotations, discipline restored. You will be soldiers again, or you will not live to see the war’s end.”

The army moved. Reluctant at first, then with gathering momentum, the barracks erupting into the old rhythm of order.

Megatron watched, jaw set, optics burning. For now, the Decepticons bent once more to his will.

As the army began to move—grudgingly falling into combat stances, weapons training, drills—Megatron stood immovable, the storm of his presence still vibrating through the chamber.

From the far wall, a figure detached from the shadows.

Soundwave.

He hadn’t needed to make his presence known during Megatron’s display. The silent enforcer had watched, still as the steel around them, visor reflecting the crimson light of Megatron’s optics. But now, as the room bent to renewed order, he stepped forward, the hush of his movements almost louder than the chaos before.

Megatron didn’t turn. “You’ve been watching.”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave’s voice was a low pulse, flat but undeniable. “Loyalty: reasserted. Fear: reinforced. Stability: temporary.”

Megatron’s claws flexed at his side, not in anger—though he bristled at the word temporary. He tilted his helm slightly, the corner of his optics narrowing. “Temporary?”

Soundwave’s head inclined. “Unicron’s presence… destabilizes. Suppression field: weakening. Soldiers—sense it. Tarn—uses it. Loyalty will fracture again.”

The silence after his words stretched, thick with implication.

Megatron exhaled through vents, slow and controlled. “Then discipline must be enforced, harder, sharper. Fear will bind them until it breaks.”

For the first time, Soundwave’s visor flared with a faint flicker of light, a subtle disagreement. “Fear: short-term. Strategy: Shockwave.”

At the mention of the scientist, Megatron finally turned to face him, massive frame casting Soundwave in his shadow. “Shockwave.” His tone was measured, dangerous. “The same logic-bound machine who believed Sunburst could be suppressed instead of destroyed?”

Soundwave’s stance did not waver. “Correct. But—necessary. Suppression field: failing. Shockwave: already recalculating. Outcome: survival… or nothing.”

The two mechs held each other’s gaze, a wordless tension filling the space where soldiers scrambled in the background to meet Megatron’s orders.

Finally, Megatron moved past Soundwave, toward the corridor beyond the barracks. His words carried, low and deliberate:

“Then bring Shockwave to me. If he dares question my judgment, he will do so to my face. And if his logic falters, I will remind him that even reason must bow to power.”

Soundwave dipped his helm slightly—acknowledgment, not obedience. “Acknowledged.”

As Megatron stalked into the corridor, the atmosphere of the barracks shifted again, the Decepticons driven by both fear and the knowledge that their master was not yet broken.

Soundwave lingered behind, visor sweeping over the soldiers, then back toward the direction Megatron had gone. His voice, low enough only the walls could hear, was stripped of all pretense:

“Unicron: accelerating. Starscream. Sunburst. Megatron… balance—fracturing.”

With that, he turned, silent steps already carrying him toward Shockwave’s laboratory.

Shockwave’s laboratory was buried deeper than the barracks, beyond reinforced blast doors and thick walls that thrummed faintly with energy. Inside, the air was heavy with the hum of consoles, data streams cascading in unreadable glyphs across vast screens.

Shockwave stood at the central station, his single optic fixed on the swirling holographic model of Cybertron’s core—and the dark fractures spiderwebbing across it.

“You are late,” he said without turning, claws working methodically at the controls. “Or rather—later than anticipated.”

The sound of the door hissing shut behind Soundwave was the only reply. He stepped forward, visor reflecting the projection, but remained silent until the weight of his presence forced Shockwave to acknowledge him.

“Report,” the scientist intoned.

“Suppression field: weakening,” Soundwave replied evenly. “Unicron’s signal: escalating. Decepticons—restless. Megatron: aware.”

Shockwave’s optic glowed brighter for a fraction of a second. “As expected. The containment matrix was never a solution. Only a delay. Unicron cannot be suppressed indefinitely.” He tapped a sequence, and the hologram shifted, showing a pulse spreading outward from a single spark signature. Sunburst’s. “The resonance grows sharper. The connection deepens. Time is collapsing faster than my initial projections.”

Soundwave tilted his helm slightly, visor narrowing. “Solution: required.”

“Solution: none,” Shockwave countered, claws pausing over the console. His voice did not waver, but it carried a deeper gravity than usual. “Eradication was the logical choice. Preservation—” his optic shifted to Soundwave, “—was your choice.”

The air between them thickened.

Soundwave did not flinch. His reply was a flat monotone, but the weight beneath it was undeniable. “Choice: necessary. Sunburst: vital. Probability: survival higher with her alive.”

“Probability,” Shockwave repeated, as though testing the word. “Illogical sentiment, disguised as strategy. You allowed emotion to dictate decision.”

Soundwave stepped closer, closing the space between them until his presence pressed against the sterile edge of Shockwave’s logic. “Emotion: irrelevant. Calculation: re-run. With Sunburst, possibility exists. Without her…” his visor flickered faintly, “…failure absolute.”

Shockwave regarded him silently for a long moment, optic unblinking. At last, his claws returned to the console. “Your assessment aligns with recent data,” he admitted. “Unicron’s fixation with her spark alters the equation. Severing the conduit may destabilize him. Perhaps—” he hesitated, just for a fraction, “—perhaps her survival increases the probability of resistance.”

It was as close to a concession as Shockwave had ever spoken.

Soundwave inclined his helm, a subtle acknowledgment.

But Shockwave’s tone hardened again, mechanical and cold. “Understand this: Megatron believes in dominance. I calculate in probabilities. You… persist in faith. Between the three of us, one will be proven correct. When Unicron rises, only the most efficient path will remain.”

Soundwave did not respond. He simply turned, the shadows swallowing his frame as he moved toward the exit. But just before the door hissed open, his voice drifted back, low and resolute:

“Efficient… or not. Sunburst: survives.”

The door sealed shut, leaving Shockwave alone with the flickering projections of Cybertron fracturing under the weight of a dark god. His optic lingered on Sunburst’s spark signature.

For a moment—just a moment—his claw stilled over the console.

Then he resumed his work.

The desert air was sharp with heat, dry wind kicking dust across the open stretch of cracked earth. The base’s training field had been cleared for her—no equipment, no cover, just the raw open space and the watchful optics of mechs she trusted more than most.

Sunburst stood at the center, plating damp with energon-sweat from exertion. Her vents dragged hard as faint trails of steam curled from her frame. Her spark beat quick and uneven against the harness strapped tight around her chest—a regulator Ratchet had insisted on, one of Shockwave’s designs modified and softened for her frame. It hummed faintly, a cage for the storm inside.

Starscream circled her slowly, wings pulled taut, arms folded across his chest. His optics cut sharp, taking in every twitch of her stance, every flicker of her field.

“Again,” he ordered. His tone was clipped, military—yet beneath the steel there was something else. Something protective.

Skyfire stood at the perimeter, broad frame casting shade across the edge of the field. “She’s already pushed past threshold,” he said, voice heavy with concern. “Any further and she’ll collapse.”

Starscream didn’t turn. “And collapse she will—if she doesn’t learn to control it before it controls her. She doesn’t get to stop just because it hurts.”

Sunburst’s claws flexed. Her vents stuttered. And still, she lifted her helm, optics burning as she forced her stance steady. “I can do it,” she rasped, though her voice betrayed the tremor in her frame.

A shadow rippled, and then Skywarp blinked into existence beside her, grinning crookedly as his warp field distorted the air. “You’re going to slag yourself if you keep trying to impress him,” he teased, jerking a thumb at Starscream. “You know he’s impossible to please.”

Thundercracker, leaning against a slab of stone nearby, crossed his arms and snorted. “Focus, Warp. She’s not here to hear your slagging commentary.”

Starscream shot both of them a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “If you two are going to stand there, then make yourselves useful. She’ll need opponents, not spectators.”

Thundercracker pushed off the rock, his heavy steps kicking dust. “Fine.” He cracked his servos and squared up opposite Sunburst, expression grim but not unkind. “Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

For a moment, Sunburst’s spark pulsed hard—too hard. The regulator on her chest hummed, sharp and angry, and she staggered as heat spiked under her plating. Skyfire took a step forward, but Starscream’s servo shot out, stopping him.

“No,” Starscream hissed. His optics never left her. “Let her fight it. Let her choose.”

Sunburst’s vents snarled open, the air around her distorting with the surge. She grit her denta, optics narrowing on Thundercracker.

And then—she moved. 

Thundercracker squared his stance, wings flaring slightly, his field even and measured. He wasn’t holding back—not completely—but he wasn’t aiming to crush her either. He knew what this was.

Sunburst dropped low, plating tight, claws flexed and ready. Her vents drew steady this time, deliberate—just as Starscream had drilled into her. Control first. Power only when she could direct it.

Thundercracker lunged. His strike was fast, a hook meant to stagger, but she shifted aside at the last klik, pivoting on her heel strut and using his momentum to slip behind him. Her claws skimmed across his plating—not deep, not dangerous, but enough to mark that she could’ve landed a blow.

“Better,” Starscream snapped from the sidelines, wings angling in sharp approval. “Don’t admire yourself. Move.”

Sunburst obeyed. She kept her frame tight, her field contained, every movement precise. Thundercracker came at her again, heavier this time, and she rolled under his swing, coming up with a strike aimed for his knee. He blocked, but just barely.

Skywarp laughed from the edge, his voice crackling with static. “She’s making you look slow, TC”

“Shut it,” Thundercracker barked, lunging again.

This time, Sunburst didn’t dodge completely. She absorbed part of the hit, let it drive her back a step, then redirected, her claws locking against his arm to twist his weight past her. Controlled. Calculated. Her spark flared hot in her chest, the regulator humming hard—but she held it. She didn’t let it explode out.

Skyfire’s optics softened, watching her. “She’s learning.”

Starscream’s wings flicked in irritation, though pride edged his voice as he called: “Again. This time with Warp.”

Skywarp zipped forward in a flicker of warped air, grinning wide as he flickered out and back in again right behind her. But Sunburst didn’t falter. She’d expected it. She pivoted, striking low where his warp signature distorted the ground—and clipped his shin plating before he could vanish again.

He yelped and reappeared mid-stumble. “Slag, she’s faster than you were at her age,” he said with a crooked grin at Starscream.

Starscream’s optics narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. Just barely.

Thundercracker rubbed at his plating where she’d marked him, giving her a short nod. “Not bad.”

Her vents hissed, the steam curling off her frame again, but this time she stood tall despite it. “Not good enough yet,” she muttered, echoing one of Starscream’s own lessons.

For the first time, Starscream’s expression cracked into something less guarded. He didn’t say it out loud—but for a moment, he was proud.

The desert was still humming with heat when training finally wound down. Sunburst sat on a flat slab of stone, vents flaring hard as she cooled down. The steam that had risen from her plating earlier had thinned, replaced with the slow, steady rhythm of recovery.

Skyfire crouched beside her, offering a cube of energon. She accepted it with shaky claws but didn’t spill a drop as she drank, optics unfocused as though replaying each move in her processor.

Starscream stood a few paces away, arms crossed, wings sharp against the darkening sky. He hadn’t said anything for several kliks—just watching, calculating, optics narrowed in that way that always made Skyfire wonder whether he was grading or doubting himself.

“She’s getting sharper,” Skyfire said at last, his voice carrying quietly. “Her reactions are improving. She’s reading their tells better.”

Starscream’s wings twitched, a small, dismissive flick. “Her tells are still obvious. Her stance too open. If Thundercracker had pushed harder, she would’ve gone down.”

Sunburst muttered into her cube, “I didn’t go down.”

Starscream’s helm snapped toward her, optics flashing. But before he could bite back, Skyfire raised a large servo in easy deflection. “And she’s learning to talk back,” he said, lips twitching faintly.

That earned a snort from Starscream. He looked away again, wings curling tight against his frame. “She thinks she’s ready. She’s not. Not for what’s coming.”

The words landed heavy. Sunburst glanced at him, her optics wide but steady. “I’ll be ready,” she said, quiet but firm.

Starscream’s claws flexed at his arms. He didn’t answer immediately, and Skyfire, watching him, could see the tension there—the line between commander and parent, between what Starscream demanded of her and what he was terrified to admit he feared for her.

Finally, Starscream strode forward and crouched before her. His talons rested against his own knees as he leaned in close, optics burning into hers. “Then you will train until your wings snap. You will not falter, you will not hesitate, and you will never—ever—give him an opening.”

Her vents stuttered. “Him,” she repeated.

Starscream’s gaze softened just a fraction. “Unicron.”

The name hung in the cooling desert air, sharp as any blade.

Skyfire’s hand rested lightly on Starscream’s shoulder plating, grounding. “You don’t have to carry it all in your field, you know,” he said, low.

Starscream didn’t shrug him off, but he didn’t answer either. He just stayed there, crouched in front of Sunburst, forcing himself to hold her gaze even as some fragile part of him threatened to crack.

Sunburst swallowed, optics darting between the two mechs before settling back on Starscream. Her voice was hesitant at first, but she steadied it: “What about him?”

Starscream blinked. “What?”

“Megatron.” She set down the cube, her claws pressing against her knees the same way Starscream’s did. “He’s part of this too. Isn’t he? You never talk about him. Not really. But he’s my sire. And if Unicron is coming for me…” Her voice wavered, then hardened. “Then he’s part of it whether we like it or not.”

The silence after that stretched taut.

Starscream’s wings flexed wide, then clamped back down, his field pulling tight like a coiled wire. For a long moment he said nothing, his optics burning with a thousand words he refused to let loose.

Finally, he drew in a sharp vent. “Megatron is not the answer you’re looking for,” he said, voice edged like broken glass. “Whatever role he played in your creation, whatever shadow he left behind—it will not save you. It will not protect you. It will only drag you down into him.”

“But he’s alive,” she pressed, refusing to drop it. “I can feel it. Sometimes I think—”

Starscream snapped, sharper than he meant: “You don’t know what you’re feeling!” His talons dug into his own knees, frame trembling with the effort of keeping his tone from spiraling further.

Skyfire stepped in quickly, a quiet rumble in his voice. “Starscream—”

Starscream cut him off with a snap of his wings, but then his optics locked on Sunburst again. She looked back at him, unflinching, even as her vents hitched under his sharpness.

He let the silence hang before he spoke again, quieter this time, though no less fierce. “…Megatron abandoned me long before you were ever sparked. Don’t mistake his presence in your creation for care. Don’t mistake him for a father.”

Sunburst’s optics dimmed, her lips parting as though she wanted to argue—but nothing came out.

Skyfire’s servo squeezed Starscream’s shoulder again, grounding him before he could spiral further.

And for the first time that cycle, Starscream’s field eased—just a fraction, just enough to let some of the brittle sharpness bleed away.

The silence stretched until it pressed like static in the air. Sunburst sat stiff, cube forgotten at her side, staring at Starscream as though willing him to give her something more than jagged denial.

It was Skyfire who broke the quiet. His voice carried that low, careful patience he had always used with Starscream when tempers edged too far. “She has a right to ask.”

Starscream’s helm jerked toward him, optics sharp. “She has a right to live. That is what I am ensuring.”

“And part of living,” Skyfire countered gently, “is knowing who you are. Where you come from. You can’t protect her from that forever, Starscream.”

Starscream’s wings flared high, field spiking like a storm front. “If knowing means tethering herself to him—to his lies, his brutality—then I’ll burn every trace of him from her processor before I let it happen.”

Sunburst flinched, but Skyfire didn’t. He leaned closer, his massive frame casting shade over the smaller mech, voice steady, unyielding. “You don’t have to defend Megatron. You don’t even have to forgive him. But you can’t pretend he isn’t part of her story. If you stay silent, you leave her with only questions—and questions cut deeper than truths.”

Starscream’s vents rattled, too sharp, like he was burning fuel faster than he could control. His talons curled into fists at his sides, the familiar instinct to lash out trembling just under his plating.

But then his optics flicked to Sunburst again. She wasn’t glaring, wasn’t pleading. She was just sitting there, optics wide and unblinking, waiting for something that could anchor the mess inside her.

The tension drained in a single, sharp vent. Starscream looked away, wings folding tight against his back. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, though still jagged. “…Megatron was once my commander. My oppressor. My… counterpart.” His mouth twisted around the word like it tasted foul. “Without him, I would not be who I am now. But that does not mean he deserves recognition for what you are.”

Sunburst’s claws twitched against her thighs. “But he’s alive,” she whispered. “I know he is. Doesn’t that matter?”

For a moment, Starscream’s mask cracked—pain flashing across his features so raw that Skyfire reached instinctively to steady him again.

“It matters,” Starscream said at last, voice low, brittle. “But not in the way you think. He is no savior. Not for you. Not for me. Not for Cybertron.”

Skyfire shifted his servo to rest against the back of Starscream’s shoulder. The touch grounded him, softened the edge in his vents.

“Then let her learn that,” Skyfire said gently. “From you. Not from silence. Not from Unicron’s whispers.”

Starscream’s optics closed, wings trembling with the weight of it. For a long moment, he stayed there, crouched between the mech who steadied him and the sparkling who demanded answers. And when he finally looked back at Sunburst, his field was still sharp, but it carried something else too—a reluctant, fragile honesty.

“…I will tell you. But not tonight.”

Sunburst’s vents eased, a flicker of relief passing through her optics, even if it wasn’t the full truth she wanted.

Skyfire exhaled softly, his frame finally relaxing. “That’s all she needs right now,” he murmured.

Starscream didn’t answer. But this time, he didn’t look away.

Megatron stood alone on the command deck of the newly repaired ship, the hum of reactivated systems vibrating through his chassis. His optics tracked the blinking lights, the grid of communications channels he had reopened one by one, but none carried the presence he truly needed.

He gritted his mandibles, the familiar ache of frustration curling in his core. His army—fragmented, scattered—was not enough. His forces had been whittled down in the chaos, and the threat beyond even his control loomed larger than he had allowed himself to admit.

Unicron. The name tasted like iron in his mouth. He had fought shadows and storms, dealt with traitors and rebellion, but this—this was a force that could annihilate entire worlds. Even he, Megatron, could not meet it alone.

He stalked the deck, each step resonant with the weight of thought. Pride was a weapon he had wielded longer than most could remember. It had driven his victories, sharpened his will, and earned him fear across the cosmos. But here, in the cold silence of space, pride was a chain around his mind, keeping him from the only ally who might still stand against the coming storm.

Optimus.

The name brought a sharp sting. Optimus Prime, the eternal rival, the one who had forced him to taste defeat countless times. To extend a hand, to ask for peace, to trust—it was unthinkable. And yet…

Megatron’s optics narrowed, scanning the holographic map of Earth below, the signals of his scattered troops blinking weakly. If he faced Unicron with only remnants at his command, he would not survive. They would all be consumed. And perhaps, worse, Sunburst would fall before she had the chance to understand her place in this war.

His claws clenched at the edge of the command console, plating groaning under the tension. Denial rose like fire, hissed through his circuits, urging him to destroy the thought before it settled: He needed Optimus. He needed to swallow every shred of ego, every memory of past victories and humiliations, and admit that he could not—would not—win alone.

The silence stretched, oppressive. Finally, Megatron’s voice broke the stillness, deep and resolute, carrying the weight of centuries of leadership and hubris.

“Prepare the comm channels. I am opening a message. To Optimus Prime. A truce. For now.”

Even as the words left his vocalizers, a cold spark of unease ran through him. Pride recoiled, clawing at his processors. Allies would question him. Tarn would seethe. Yet the logic was undeniable: the universe would demand sacrifice of more than just honor if Unicron rose unchecked.

Megatron’s optics glimmered with a mixture of calculation and reluctant acceptance. The truce would be a dagger wrapped in necessity, but it would also be a bridge. One he never wanted to build, yet one that had become indispensable.

He reached for the console, his claws steady despite the turmoil thrumming in his core. The message would go through. The truce would be offered. And for the first time in a long while, Megatron would not be the lone architect of war—but a man forced to face the impossible truth: even the strongest must sometimes bend.

The bridge was quiet, the usual hum of engines muted under the weight of anticipation. Optimus Prime stood before the central communications console, his optics flicking over incoming signals with practiced precision. One channel blinked insistently, unfamiliar in frequency but unmistakably encrypted with the signature of Megatron.

Optimus froze, his chest rising slightly as if the very presence of the message demanded measured contemplation. For a moment, he hesitated. Had Megatron perished in the recent chaos? Or was this some trap, a final gambit of the Decepticon’s ego?

The comms interface opened with a soft chime, the holographic image of Megatron filling the space between them. He looked… smaller, somehow—not physically, but in presence, weighed down by an unease that Prime had never seen in the Decepticon. His optics, usually blazing with fire and command, flickered with something else: uncertainty.

“Optimus Prime,” Megatron began, voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of uncharacteristic restraint. “I come not as your adversary, but as a necessary partner. For now.”

Optimus’s optics narrowed. “Necessary… partner?” His voice carried the caution of centuries, the steel of a leader who had seen betrayal too many times to trust words alone. “Explain yourself, Megatron. What has brought you to—”

“The truth,” Megatron interrupted, his tone sharp but not accusatory. “Unicron rises. His power… it cannot be stopped by fragmented forces, not mine, not yours alone. You and I have fought for centuries, Prime, yet now we face a threat that surpasses even our history of conflict.”

Optimus absorbed the words, weighing the gravity of the claim. “And you expect me to believe this… truce… is anything more than a ploy?”

Megatron’s optics hardened, reflecting the faint glow of the holographic display. “Believe what you must. But consider this: my army is weakened. My forces scattered. If we meet Unicron divided, all that we hold—your world, my command—will fall.”

A long pause stretched between them, the hum of the consoles computers a solemn undercurrent. Optimus’s processors worked through decades of enmity, strategy, and logic. Trust did not come easily, not with Megatron. And yet… the reality could not be ignored.

“You ask me to set aside history,” Optimus said finally, voice calm but resolute. “To ignore the countless battles, the betrayals, the lives lost to your ambition.”

Megatron’s optics flickered, a subtle gesture that might have been vulnerability. “I ask only that you consider survival, Prime. That we recognize when pride must bend to necessity. Unicron will not negotiate. He will consume. If we cannot face him together, there will be nothing left for either of us to claim.”

Optimus regarded the Decepticon, measuring truth against deception, weighing necessity against morality. “Very well,” he said at last, every word deliberate. “We will stand together. But understand this, Megatron: if this is a deception, if you betray this truce, the consequences will be… absolute.”

Megatron inclined his head, almost imperceptibly. “Understood. And Prime… should we succeed, know that this alliance ends when the threat ends. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The comm link held, a silent acknowledgment passing between two beings who had defined themselves through conflict, now bound by the fragile thread of survival.

“Prepare your forces,” Optimus said finally, voice firm. “The battle ahead will test all of us. For the sake of the universe, I will trust this truce.”

Megatron’s hologram shimmered briefly before vanishing, leaving Optimus alone on the bridge. He exhaled slowly, the weight of the decision settling in his chest. This alliance was not a surrender—it was a necessity. Yet in the quiet after the comms ended, the thought lingered: alliances forged in necessity were fragile, and sometimes, even the noblest intentions could unravel under the shadow of war.

The command deck of the Nemesis was tense when Megatron returned. His presence alone should have silenced the room, but instead the air buzzed with an undercurrent of unease. Tarn stood at the center, helm tilted slightly as though he had already been waiting. The DJD lingered close behind him, silent and imposing.

Megatron’s optics swept the chamber. His frame was squared, his energy field radiating command—but beneath that, there was a subtle strain, a tension even his warriors could sense.

“You’ve been gone,” Tarn said, his voice heavy with measured calm. “And yet word travels. Our comms pick up faint signals even in your absence. Tell me, Lord Megatron—did I hear correctly? That you have opened a channel to Optimus Prime?”

The words dropped like molten slag. The DJD shifted subtly, anticipation coiling in their postures.

Megatron met Tarn’s optics without hesitation. “You heard correctly. I have extended truce to Prime.”

The sharp intake of static across the chamber was instant. Tarn’s vents flared, his tone sharpening like a blade being drawn. “Truce. With him.” He took a step forward, his field lashing out like a whip. “The same Prime who dismantled Kaon’s arenas. Who shattered your dream of Cybertronian unity. You would—”

“I would ensure our survival,” Megatron cut him off, his tone booming through the room, leaving no space for dissent. “Do not mistake necessity for weakness.”

Tarn’s helm tilted, his voice lowering, almost intimate in its mockery. “Survival. Is that what you call bending knee to the enemy you swore to crush? Tell me, Lord Megatron, was it survival that brought you into Optimus’s comms… or something softer?” His words twisted, sly, deliberate. “Soundwave has already been whispering your name in Prime’s shadow. Perhaps it is he who softened you.”

A dangerous silence followed. The DJD stilled, waiting for the storm. Megatron’s optics burned red, his field flaring in fury as he stepped toward Tarn, every footfall a thunderclap of authority.

“Choose your words carefully,” he growled. “You speak not as my enforcer, but as a petulant fanatic. Do you believe yourself above me? Do you mistake obsession for loyalty?”

Tarn’s vents hissed, his voice dropping into a growl of its own. “I mistake nothing. I see what others refuse to. The great Megatron, once the fire that lit Kaon, now reaching out to his ancient rival with open hands. It reeks of weakness.”

Megatron’s fist clenched, the plates of his forearm creaking with restrained force. “Weakness,” he repeated, low and dangerous. He surged forward, closing the gap until his towering frame loomed over Tarn’s. “Do you recall, Tarn, who forged you? Who gave you purpose when you were nothing but rust in the pit? Do not lecture me on strength. If you wish to test it, then strike. Here. Now.”

The chamber seemed to vibrate with the challenge. The DJD remained frozen, watching with rapt attention. Tarn’s optics flared bright, and for a moment it seemed he might accept.

Then Nickel’s small voice cut through the tension, sharp as a blade. “Enough!” She stomped forward, tiny frame trembling with barely contained anger. “You’ll tear each other apart before Unicron even gets the chance! Is that what you want?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Megatron’s glare lingered on Tarn for a long, charged moment before he stepped back, vents dragging in a slow, controlled intake.

“Unicron will not wait for our squabbles,” Megatron said finally, his tone dropping back into measured command. “I will not waste time proving strength when there is a greater enemy at our door. Prime and I will stand together, whether you approve or not.”

Tarn’s optics narrowed, his tone clipped. “And when Prime betrays you—as he always has?”

Megatron’s lip curled in something between disdain and finality. “Then I will end him myself. But until then… you will follow my lead. Or you will be discarded.”

The words echoed like the slam of a warhammer. Tarn’s frame locked, his field a storm barely contained. But he said nothing more, only inclined his helm stiffly.

The DJD dispersed slowly after, the tension lingering like smoke. Tarn remained last, his optics never leaving Megatron’s, burning with fury and something deeper—obsession, resentment, perhaps both.

When the chamber finally emptied, Megatron stood alone. His vents hissed softly, the silence of the Nemesis pressing in around him. He knew the truce had planted seeds of dissent. But he also knew there was no other choice. Pride could not stand against a god.

Not this time.

The war room of the Autobot base was quiet, save for the low hum of the consoles. The blue holographic projection of Cybertron hovered at the center, its fractured surface bathed in pale light. Optimus stood nearest the display, his frame squared but his field weighted with something heavier than usual. Ratchet lingered at his side, arms crossed, while Skyfire and Starscream stood opposite, watching the Prime with varying degrees of impatience.

“It is confirmed,” Optimus said finally, his deep voice steady though the silence made every word heavier. “Megatron has requested truce.”

The words landed like a blade in the room. Skyfire shifted slightly, optics narrowing. Ratchet muttered something under his breath, shaking his helm. But it was Starscream who broke the stillness outright, wings twitching high and sharp.

“Oh, wonderful,” he drawled, his tone steeped in disdain. “Of course. Call a truce with the very mech who’s betrayed every fragile agreement in Cybertronian history. Brilliant idea.” His optics burned as he fixed Optimus with a sharp look. “Tell me, Prime, how long do you think it’ll last this time? A cycle? Two?”

Ratchet’s helm jerked toward him. “Starscream—”

“No, let him speak,” Optimus interrupted, his voice low but firm. His optics never left Starscream’s.

Starscream smirked bitterly. “Oh, I’ll speak. Because I know him better than any of you. You think Megatron wants peace? He wants power. He always has. If he’s reaching out now, it’s not because he’s suddenly found a conscience—it’s because he’s cornered. And you—” he jabbed a talon toward Optimus—“are handing him leverage on a silver platter.”

Skyfire’s field flickered tight, concern threading through his voice. “Starscream—”

“No!” Starscream snapped, venting sharply. His wings rattled against his back, agitation crackling off him in waves. “I lived under his heel for half my life. I bled for his empire, I clawed my way out of it, and I’m not about to pretend a truce means anything but disaster waiting to happen.”

Ratchet scrubbed a servo down his faceplate, muttering. “As if things weren’t complicated enough.”

Optimus finally moved, stepping closer to the Seeker. His gaze was steady, unflinching. “You are correct to distrust him,” he said, voice calm but weighted. “Megatron’s path is carved with betrayal and domination. But it is also true that he has faced Unicron’s touch, as we have. That reality binds him to the same threat we face. This is not about trusting Megatron. It is about recognizing that even he understands survival cannot be achieved alone.”

Starscream’s wings flared again, but his smirk faltered. His vents hitched faintly as he searched Optimus’s optics, looking for weakness and finding only calm resolve.

Ratchet broke in, his tone gruff. “Optimus isn’t wrong, Starscream. I don’t like it either, but with Unicron in play, we may not have the luxury of picking allies based on our feelings.”

Starscream turned sharply on him. “Feelings?” His voice cracked with sharp laughter. “Is that what you call being enslaved? Watching him crush every spark that dared stand in his way?”

The room went quiet again. Skyfire shifted closer, laying a broad hand on Starscream’s arm, grounding him. Starscream flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away.

Optimus let the silence linger for a beat before speaking again. His voice was softer now, but no less resolute. “I do not ask you to forgive him, Starscream. Nor do I expect you to forget. But if we are to endure what is coming, we must set aside vengeance for survival.” He inclined his helm, steady and unyielding. “Unicron will not be defeated by divisions. Not this time.”

Starscream’s gaze dropped, wings sagging slightly, though his mouth still twisted in a bitter line. “If this ends the way I think it will,” he muttered, quieter now, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Skyfire’s hand tightened on his arm, and Optimus ex-vented slowly, letting the room settle again.

Ratchet finally broke the silence with a grumble. “Well, we’d better prepare for the worst anyway. Because if Megatron’s involved, it’s always only a matter of time.”

The words seemed to hang over them like a shadow, and none present dared argue otherwise.

The Autobot base was unusually still. Guards lined the corridors with weapons in clear view, optics locked on the towering shape that walked between them. Megatron’s stride was unbroken, his presence filling the narrow space like a storm front. He had been here before, years ago, as an enemy. To enter as a guest—or worse, a truce-bound partner—was something altogether different.

The briefing room doors parted with a hiss, revealing a circular chamber built for strategy, not comfort. Holographic projectors lined the central table, pulsing faintly with star charts and schematics. Optimus stood waiting at the head, posture commanding but unarmed. Ratchet lingered nearby, arms folded tight. Skyfire’s tall frame was set to one side, his gaze wary.

And then there was Starscream.

He stood opposite the Prime, flanking him like a general rather than a subordinate. His colors were different—Autobot red and silver, clean-lined and sharp. His insignia burned with the mark of the Autobots, not the Decepticons. His posture was upright, not hunched or deferential, wings tilted in quiet authority. There was no theatrical sneer, no desperate twitch of optics. Only a cool, steady gaze that followed Megatron with unsettling calm.

Megatron’s optics narrowed, lingering on him. The air commander had once cowered before him, scraping and scrambling for favor, hiding ambition behind cowardice. Now he stood here—straight-backed, deliberate, with the weight of a new rank behind him.

So. The whelp had changed.

“Megatron,” Optimus greeted, his voice even but heavy with the unspoken.

“Optimus,” Megatron replied, his baritone smooth as polished iron. He allowed his optics to sweep the chamber, to the soldiers flanking the walls, to Ratchet’s glower, to Skyfire’s protective stance. Then, again, to Starscream.

Starscream’s wings shifted slightly under the scrutiny, but he did not look away.

“Let us not waste time,” Optimus said, motioning toward the table. “You asked for this truce. Speak.”

Megatron moved closer, resting his hands on the edge of the console as the starfield flickered into being. Cybertron appeared at the center—cracked, dim, bleeding out its lifeforce into the dark void. Around it pulsed the faint shadow of Unicron’s influence, spreading like oil across a tide.

“You know what he is,” Megatron said, his tone dropping. “The destroyer of worlds. The corruption that seeped into the very marrow of our war. I thought once to harness that power. Dark Energon.” His jaw tightened. “A mistake that cost more than I calculated. Perhaps more than can ever be repaid.”

The room remained silent, save for the low hum of the hologram.

“He moves still, even beneath your suppression fields,” Megatron continued. “We have contained him, delayed him, but not forever. His awareness grows. When he wakes fully, he will not only devour this world. He will seek Cybertron itself.”

Ratchet’s arms tightened across his chest. “And you’re only realizing this now?”

Megatron’s optics flared briefly toward him. “I realized it the moment he touched my spark.”

The quiet that followed was taut, brittle.

Starscream finally spoke, his voice sharp but quieter than the dramatic edge Megatron once knew. “What do you want, Megatron?” He tilted his helm, optics narrowing. “Surely this is more than a courtesy visit. You don’t ask for truces. You take. You bend. You break. So tell us—what exactly do you think you’ll gain from being here?”

Megatron turned his gaze fully on him, scanning the details—the insignia, the rank, the steadiness in his field. The shift in him was as remarkable as it was irritating. No longer a groveling sycophant. No longer afraid.

“Much has changed,” Megatron rumbled, voice quieter, almost curious. “Even… you, Starscream.”

Starscream’s expression didn’t flinch. He only folded his arms, wings arching back slightly. “I had to.”

Megatron’s optics lingered, but he didn’t press. Instead, he shifted his gaze back to the projection of Cybertron, his voice deepening again.

“I will not claim redemption,” he said. “Nor will I beg for your trust. But know this: if Unicron is not destroyed, there will be no Autobot. No Decepticon. No Cybertron. Only dust in his wake.” His optics met Optimus’s, steady and grim. “And I will not allow that fate.”

Optimus’s gaze hardened, but there was a faint flicker—acknowledgment, or perhaps a shadow of something else. “Then we are agreed,” he said at last. “Unicron must be faced. Together.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, weighted with history and all the fractures between them.

And in that stillness, Megatron realized something else. His optics swept the room again, once more taking stock of its occupants. One was missing.

The young one. The spark he had glimpsed in brief reports, whispered about among the ranks. Sunburst.

He straightened slightly, helm tilting. “And where,” he asked slowly, “is the girl?”

The question landed like a subtle strike across the room. Optimus didn’t answer immediately. Starscream’s wings flicked, just slightly, his expression darkening. Skyfire’s gaze cut toward Megatron with a warning edge.

For the first time since entering, the air in the chamber felt personal, charged. The question hung in the air like a blade.

Starscream’s wings twitched, sharp enough to cut. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Megatron with a coldness that felt earned, not postured. “You never cared for her before,” he said, voice tight but steady. “You didn’t even bother to remember her name.” His talons tapped once against the console, restrained only by sheer effort. “So don’t pretend you deserve even a passing thought in her life now.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed, the faintest growl in his field. But he didn’t answer immediately.

Starscream pressed, his tone rising with a bitter edge. “You broke worlds, Megatron. You broke me. And you would’ve broken her, too, if fate hadn’t intervened. She owes you nothing. Nothing. And you have no right to ask after her.”

The weight of his words landed hard in the chamber. Optimus remained silent, watching. Ratchet’s optics flicked between them, ready for sparks.

Megatron’s helm tilted slightly, his silence deliberate, oppressive.

Before it could snap further, Skyfire finally moved, his voice cutting in low and gravelly, the grit of a mech who had seen too much. “Enough, Starscream.” His optics shifted between them, sharp but steady. “Megatron being in Sunburst’s life isn’t your choice—or his. It’s hers. No amount of venom or pride changes that.”

Starscream’s wings flared, his frame tight with fury. “You think she’d want him in it?” he snapped, gesturing toward Megatron like the accusation was poison. “After what he’s done?”

Skyfire didn’t flinch. His voice softened, but the grit remained. “I think it’s not ours to decide for her.”

The room fell into another heavy silence.

Starscream’s mouth opened, a retort burning behind his optics—but it died there. His wings folded back slowly, his field still tense, his gaze still locked on Megatron with something between hatred and fear.

Megatron’s helm tilted slightly, optics narrowing as he finally spoke, low and deliberate. “Do not mistake my silence for ignorance,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a sharpened blade. “I know of her… the girl. Sunburst. She is not merely a child of circumstance. She is, in some way, a link to Unicron—a conduit I cannot fully measure. I did not… anticipate such a manifestation, nor the form it would take.”

Starscream’s wings bristled, talons flexing. “So you claim knowledge now? After everything?”

Megatron’s gaze flicked to Starscream, unyielding. “I acknowledge only that I could have acted differently before her creation,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “The Dark Energon… it clouded judgment, twisted my vision. I did not foresee this… aberration.” His optics swept the room, settling finally on the others, precise and unrepentant. “But this is not about guilt. This is about survival.”

Skyfire’s frame tensed, ready to counter, but Optimus stepped forward, optics focused and firm. “Survival,” he said, cutting through the weight of Megatron’s confession, “will depend on unity, not history. The plans to stop Unicron are already underway, but knowing what he has at his disposal—and who he might control—is vital. Megatron, your knowledge of Sunburst… your understanding of these links… could be critical.”

Megatron’s optics glinted, a faint smirk touching the edge of his helm, but there was no warmth. “I will provide what I know, Optimus,” he said. “Not for loyalty… not for trust… but because if we fail, all will burn. And I intend to survive.”

Starscream’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent this time, wings folded, watching. The tension had not dissipated—it had only shifted.

Optimus turned to the data displays, gesturing toward schematics of Unicron’s known movements. “Then let us focus on that,” he said. “Megatron, you will brief us on what you have seen, what you know, and we will integrate it into our strategy. There is no time for… old grievances. The fate of all Cybertronians hangs in the balance.”

Megatron inclined his helm once, acknowledging the command in gesture if not in spirit. “Very well,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. “Let us proceed before your precious time runs out.”

 
The briefing had stretched longer than any had expected. Megatron’s details were precise, coldly calculated—Unicron’s predicted patterns, the potential weaknesses in his suppression field, and the variables he had observed in Sunburst’s powers. The Autobots had absorbed it all, voices low as they cross-referenced the data, weighed probabilities, and revised their own plans.

Yet even with every tactical advantage accounted for, the air was thick with unspoken unease.

“Prepare the space bridge,” Optimus said, finally closing the briefing. “We move at once. There is no time to waste.”

As the Autobots dispersed toward the launch bays, Starscream’s form moved quickly, almost too fluidly, toward the hangar where Sunburst awaited. Megatron’s optics tracked the movement, lingering on the figure Starscream gently guided. Sunburst turned briefly, catching the sight of Megatron’s gaze. For a moment, it felt as though the distance of the room collapsed—the silent recognition of connection, ancestry, and consequence threading the space between them.

She was a perfect amalgam of both of them: the sleek, precise lines of Starscream’s design intertwined with the imposing stature and subtle angles of Megatron’s own form. And those amber optics—once his own—reflected back at him with an intensity that made his chestplate tighten. He did not speak. He could not, not yet.

Starscream, aware of the glance, simply stiffened for a heartbeat, eyes flicking toward Megatron, and then shifted his attention back to Sunburst, leading her forward without a word. The tension between the two figures was subtle but undeniable—a current threading beneath the surface of the looming battle.

The Autobots moved in formation toward the space bridge. Energy pulsed through the bay as the portal powered up, shimmering and alive. Sunburst, beside Starscream, took a deep breath, her optics momentarily meeting Megatron’s again before looking ahead.

Megatron remained where he was, his stance rigid, every line of his frame a testament to control. For the first time, he allowed a silent acknowledgment to pass between them—not of allegiance, not of kinship, but of recognition. Whatever came next, whatever Unicron would unleash, this was a line drawn in the stars.

And then, with a hum of energy and a crackle of light, the Autobots stepped through the space bridge, leaving the desert world behind, hurtling toward the unknown, toward Unicron, and toward the collision of destinies that none could escape.

Chapter Text

The space bridge hummed to life with a resonance that rattled through the base’s reinforced walls. Emerald light bled across the hangar floor, warping in concentric rings until the gateway stabilized, its vortex pulling faint streams of dust and debris inward.

Everyone had gathered here for this moment—Autobots on one side, Decepticons on the other. The lines between them blurred in necessity, though their fields were bristling with suspicion.

Starscream stood at the forefront, Sunburst at his side, Skyfire a steady shadow behind them. His wings were drawn taut, betraying the tension he would not otherwise voice. He held Sunburst’s shoulder as though she might vanish into the pull of the bridge before him.

Behind them stood the trine brothers, Thundercracker and Skywarp, placed like immovable trees separating Starscream and Sunburst from Megatron. Though, that didn't stop the former warlord from attempting to look.

Megatron’s gaze lingered. He had seen many things across the eons—warriors, armies, worlds turned to ash. But the sight of her standing there struck him differently. Her frame bore Starscream’s sharp lines, his wings and plating angles, but the height and weight of her silhouette was unmistakably his own. And her optics—amber, bright, burning with something that was not wholly hers.

He exhaled through his vents, a low sound half irritation, half acknowledgment. He had forged armies. He had crushed cities. But he had never known how to name this.

Sunburst shifted under the scrutiny, glancing down, and Starscream followed the line of Megatron’s optics with a sneer. “Don’t,” he snapped under his breath, voice edged but quiet enough for only Megatron to hear. “You don’t deserve to even think of her.”

Megatron’s expression didn’t change, though something stirred faintly in his field, subtle as a tremor through stone. He said nothing.

Optimus stepped forward, commanding the room with quiet gravity. “The path is open. On the other side lies what we must face together.” His optics swept the assembly—Autobots tightening their grips on weapons, Decepticons holding themselves in rigid silence, and between them, Starscream with his trine and his daughter. “There will be no second attempt. Whatever awaits us, it is here we decide Cybertron’s fate.”

The silence stretched. The space bridge pulsed.

Then Ratchet broke it with a muttered curse, adjusting the pack of supplies slung over his shoulder. “Best not keep the Destroyer waiting.”

That earned a thin, humorless sound from Starscream—something caught between a scoff and bitter amusement. He tightened his hold on Sunburst for a klik, wings flexing back, then released her with a quiet exhale.

“Come,” he said to her, voice softer now, meant only for her audials. “Stay close to me. No matter what you hear.”

Her optics lifted, uncertain but resolute. She nodded and together they stepped through.

For an instant, there was no up or down, no sound but the roar of the bridge folding space around them. The light fractured across their armor, warping their outlines, stretching them thin and pulling them forward. Starscream kept his claws firm on Sunburst’s arm, his wings snapping tighter to his back as if shielding her from the void itself.

She felt it, too. The pull wasn’t only physical—something tugged at her spark, a thread winding taut and hot until she grit her denta. She could hear it whispering faintly beneath the storm of the bridge: a voice like stone grinding against stone, patient, inevitable.

Unicron.

She tried not to falter.

Ahead of them, Optimus moved with measured calm, his silhouette cutting clean through the stream of fractured light. Behind, Skyfire’s bulk carried steady momentum, ready to catch either of them if they stumbled.

Megatron’s stride was heavier, slower, but not uncertain. He walked as if he’d done this a hundred times, helm high, crimson optics dimmed against the glare. Still, every so often his gaze slid toward Sunburst, unreadable in the kaleidoscope of light, until Starscream turned sharply and caught him watching again.

“Keep your optics forward,” Starscream hissed low, the sound almost lost in the roar of the current.

Megatron said nothing. His expression remained carved in iron. But he obeyed.

The pull reached its peak. A surge of force ripped through the group, flinging them forward with sudden weightlessness, and then—

—steel ground beneath their pedes.

The shift was violent. The bridge spat them out into a cavernous space, their frames jerking hard as reality reasserted itself. The air was thin, metallic, cold. The ground shuddered faintly under them, as though the world itself was breathing.

Optimus steadied himself first, straightening as his optics swept the terrain. “We’ve arrived,” he said, voice quiet but carrying. “This… is the threshold.”

The others lifted their gazes.

Stretching before them was a vast plain of broken stone, blackened and scarred, as if carved from the inside out. Jagged spires rose like teeth, their edges glowing faintly with veins of sickly violet. The sky was choked in ash-colored clouds that pulsed faintly, every beat a reminder of something living beneath.

Sunburst’s vents hitched. Her spark thrummed sharp and wild, resonating with the pulse.

And far below the cliffs where they stood, the ground shifted—subtle at first, then unmistakable. The stone moved, groaning, as though something vast and ancient turned in its sleep.

Starscream pulled Sunburst closer, his wings stiff and his optics sharp. “Primus help us,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Megatron’s gaze narrowed, his field tightening to iron. “No,” he rumbled, low and steady. “Not Primus.”

The ground shuddered again.

Unicron stirred.

The plain stretched into infinity.

At first glance, it resembled a wasteland—rock fractured and burned, dust carried by a soundless wind. But the longer they looked, the harder it was to see it as mere stone. The jagged ridges curved in unnatural arcs, the spires shaped too deliberately, too cruelly sharp. Every angle seemed to converge into something larger, patterns etched across the terrain like circuitry too massive to comprehend.

And then there was the pulse.

A faint, tremoring beat that vibrated up through the ground into their struts, making armor plates rattle against armor. It wasn’t constant—it came and went, sometimes soft as a sigh, sometimes deep enough to quake their entire frames. Sunburst’s spark twisted with every rhythm, pulling tight, as if her own core was trying to match the beat.

Her vents hitched, and she clutched at her chassis. “It’s… it’s alive,” she whispered, her voice breaking into static.

Skyfire shifted closer, his massive frame casting a protective shadow around her. “Steady yourself,” he murmured, though even his tone was strained, optics darting uneasily across the terrain. “Do not let it draw you in.”

Optimus’s helm inclined ever so slightly. “This is no mere battlefield,” he said, voice edged with grim weight. “We stand upon Unicron’s body.”

The words fell like iron.

Starscream’s wings trembled, not in fear but in sharp agitation, his optics narrowing as he scanned the horizon. He had no need to argue; every instinct screamed the truth of it. The ridges weren’t just ridges—they were plating. The spires weren’t spires—they were teeth. And the sky itself seemed to coil downward like the hollow throat of a pit.

Megatron alone did not flinch. He stood rooted, silent, crimson optics burning faintly against the violet haze. He had felt this presence before, in the rush of Dark Energon, in the shadows between his own thoughts. The sheer scale of it no longer horrified him—though it unsettled him all the same.

“It feeds,” he said at last, his voice like stone cracking. “Always feeding. Entire worlds carved hollow, and still its hunger gnaws.” His gaze slid toward Sunburst, sharp but unreadable. “And yet… through her, it grows restless.”

Sunburst stiffened, and Starscream’s wings snapped back with a sharp jolt. He pulled her behind him in a fluid motion, his optics flaring. “Do not speak of her as if she were a vein of fuel for you to mine,” he spat.

Megatron’s mouth curled—not a smile, not quite, but something close to disdain. He did not press further.

The ground trembled again, this time sharper, a grinding groan that rolled through the plain like thunder. Far off, one of the jagged towers split down its length, violet light spilling out in molten cracks. The glow pulsed in rhythm with the beat beneath their pedes.

Skywarp muttered low, voice uncharacteristically taut. “This place is wrong.”

Thundercracker’s optics swept the horizon, unease etched into every line of his frame. “It’s not a place,” he corrected softly. “It’s him.”

For a long moment, no one moved.

The air grew heavier, a pressure pushing down on their frames, seeping into their sparks. It was like being watched—no, like being swallowed. The silence was absolute, until a faint sound stirred within it.

A voice.

Distant, deep, older than any of them could fathom. It didn’t speak in words—not truly—but the impression was unmistakable. Hunger. Claiming. The promise of inevitability.

Sunburst gasped and pressed her claws to her helm, static breaking through her vents. “I can hear him—”

Starscream gripped her shoulders, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “Then do not listen,” he snapped, his tone sharp but desperate. His wings shuddered again, as if resisting the very resonance of the sound.

Optimus stepped forward, placing himself firmly between them and the widening fissure in the earth. His optics burned steady, unwavering. “Then we know,” he said. “There is no time left to debate. Unicron stirs.”

Another quake rolled through the ground.

And in the distance, vast shadows shifted beneath the blackened crust, as if the horizon itself was beginning to rise.

The horizon cracked open.

Not with fire, not with storm — but with shadow.

A shape loomed out of the fissures, rising high against the blackened sky. At first, it seemed like a tower of stone clawing upward, but then it moved. Too fluid, too deliberate. A head, horns arching like a crown of knives, eyes igniting in molten amber.

Unicron.

But when Starscream’s optics locked on it, the image wavered — doubling, splitting. A second Unicron emerged on the left, and then another on the right, each vast and terrible, all identical. Their maws opened in unison, and the sound that spilled out was no roar, but a rumbling that shook through metal frames and into sparks.

The trine staggered back, Skywarp clutching his helm, Thundercracker planting a steadying hand on his brother. Sunburst dropped to one knee, claws digging into the scorched ground as though anchoring herself against the pull.

“It’s not real,” Skyfire said sharply, scanning his instruments, his deep voice strained. “These are projections, distortions—”

One of the massive shadows lunged.

The impact was very real.

The ground split under the force, a shockwave tearing outward, flinging Skywarp into the air. Thundercracker caught him mid-flight, but the impact sent both spinning into the dust.

Starscream’s wings snapped outward, field flaring in instinctive defiance. “Mirages don’t crush earth under their fists, Skyfire!”

Megatron did not flinch. His optics tracked the largest figure, measuring, calculating. “They are extensions,” he said low, almost to himself. “Pieces of his will. Enough to weaken us, enough to test.”

One of the figures turned its burning gaze directly on him.

Megatron’s servos flexed, his fusion cannon whirring, but the air warped before he could fire. The colossal hand descended, not to crush—but to reach. And for an instant, every optic locked on the sight: Unicron’s shadow stretching not toward the Autobots, not even toward Sunburst, but toward Megatron himself.

The contact never came. Optimus was there, axe flaring with raw energy, intercepting the blow with a bellow of defiance. The clash lit the air with a burst of blue fire, driving the mirage’s limb backward in a spray of fractured light—but the shockwave rattled even Optimus’s frame, forcing him to brace hard.

“Do not falter!” Optimus’s voice rang, steady despite the tremor in his stance. “These are not gods—they are illusions. They can be broken!”

But already, another figure loomed, this one bending toward Sunburst. She froze, optics wide, because the face staring down at her wasn’t the horned visage of Unicron. It was her own.

Her frame trembled. The mirrored Sunburst opened its mouth and spoke in a voice not her own, not entirely:

“Little spark… little fracture. You are mine. Through you, I rise.”

The words wrapped around her spark like chains. Her vents stuttered, and she felt herself tipping forward, falling into that reflection.

“Sunburst!” Starscream’s voice snapped like a whip, and he lunged, claws gripping her arms. He yanked her back just as the shadow’s hand swiped downward, tearing a trench where she’d stood. His wings flared, bristling against the impossible storm. “You are not his! Do you hear me? You are not!”

The mirrored Sunburst’s grin split too wide, too jagged, before it melted into smoke.

Megatron’s cannon fired, searing through one of the larger projections and scattering it into shards of light. For an instant, his optics burned brighter, fiercer. “Enough of this charade!” he roared, his voice cutting over the chaos.

The ground answered him.

Every fissure lit at once, violent violet searing outward in veins across the landscape. The pulse thundered again—no longer faint, but deafening, undeniable.

The battlefield erupted.

Unicron’s mirages lunged in unison, and the fragile alliance fractured into motion. Autobots and Decepticons surged forward together, not out of trust, but survival.

Optimus carved through a towering projection, axe burning bright as it split the construct into shards that dissolved into nothing. Starscream and Thundercracker swept the air, strafing fire across another’s chest, while Skywarp blinked in and out of the fray, scattering missiles that cracked the ground like thunder.

“Focus fire!” Optimus commanded. “They can be broken, but only if we strike with force!”

Megatron didn’t wait for orders. His fusion cannon boomed, tearing through a shadow’s face in a blinding flare. The projection staggered—and for a heartbeat, Megatron almost smiled. But then its head reformed, rising back into shape with a molten sneer.

“Unicron mocks us,” he growled.

From the ridge, a colder voice answered. “Not mocking,” Shockwave observed, his single optic gleaming as he tracked energy spikes on his scanner. “Testing. Measuring resilience. Probing for weakness.”

Beside him, Soundwave loomed silent—until he spoke, his voice flat and reverberating. “Projections: autonomous. Not illusions. Energy constructs anchored to planetary fissures. Physical damage: temporary.”

The ground trembled again as another figure rose, dwarfing the first wave.

“Temporary,” Tarn repeated with a rasping chuckle, stepping forward with the DJD at his back. His claws flexed, eyes glowing with fanatic hunger. “Then all the better. We tear them apart again and again until nothing remains.” He swung his hook-bladed weapon in a vicious arc, cutting into the nearest projection with reckless abandon. His team followed, their brutality painting the battlefield with shrieks of tearing metal and shattering energy.

Starscream snarled, circling lower. “They’ll break themselves before they break Unicron.”

“Let them,” Megatron snapped, his cannon flaring again. “They are tools, as they have always been.”

Below, Sunburst staggered against another wave of psychic force. Her optics flashed as one of the projections locked onto her again—this one shifting, reshaping, flickering between Unicron’s visage and Megatron’s own. Her claws dug into her helm, trying to block the sound of its voice slithering through her spark.

“Child of war. Child of ruin. You are my tether.”

Starscream was there again, wings flared in defense, his own blaster striking the construct to shatter its chest. He caught Sunburst by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do not listen. He wants you to believe you are bound. But you are not.”

She nodded weakly; her vents ragged—but her optics burned brighter. For the first time, she raised her own arm cannons, firing twin bursts that seared across the projection’s face. The shadow reeled backward, its molten grin breaking into static before it collapsed.

Optimus caught the sight and lifted his axe high. “Stand together! Every strike against these constructs weakens Unicron’s hold!”

For a heartbeat, Autobots and Decepticons fought side by side, lines blurred. Skyfire’s firepower joined Shockwave’s calculated bursts; Soundwave’s deployers tangled with a projection’s limbs while Thundercracker rained missiles overhead. Even Tarn, drenched in smoke and fury, was locked shoulder to shoulder with Ironhide, both cutting down the same shadow before either realized it.

But the unity lasted only as long as Unicron allowed.

The ground pulsed again—harder, faster—and the fissures tore open wide. A dozen new projections rose, their frames jagged, their forms incomplete, as though clawing themselves out of the planet’s core. The air screamed with static, every sound layered with Unicron’s voice, deep and eternal.

“You cannot fight me. You cannot kill me. I am the end. I am the beginning. Through your child, I return.”

The constructs surged forward as one.

Blasts of fire and energy tore through the mirages, and for a moment — just a moment — it seemed as though the worst was over. Smoke curled and sparks rained from the fractured projections; their forms quivered, destabilizing, and the ground shook as if Unicron himself hesitated.

Megatron’s fusion cannon fired one last, blazing volley. Starscream’s missiles streaked in perfect synchrony. Sunburst’s optics flared as she tore through another shadow, feeling a strange surge of power as if every strike resonated against something far larger.

And then—silence.

The projections collapsed entirely, evaporating into nothing. The battlefield lay quiet, the tremors fading to a dull hum beneath their chassis. Even the fissures in the planet’s surface seemed to pause, holding their breath.

“Victory,” Starscream muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Megatron’s optics scanned the horizon, the glint of triumph beginning to form. “Temporary, but effective,” he said, lowering his cannon. “This is enough for—”

The ground cracked beneath him. In an instant, a searing light enveloped Megatron, Starscream, and Sunburst, pulling them into a vortex of shifting energy. The familiar battlefield vanished. Gravity warped and fractured. The air—no, the space itself—bent into impossible angles. They fell, not down, not up, but through an infinite expanse of light, shadow, and sound, each separated by a few feet that felt like miles.

A voice echoed through every fragment of their being:

“Strength. Loyalty. Will. You carry the weight of worlds—yet can you endure them alone?”

Sunburst’s optics flared, her spark trembling but defiant. She raised her arm cannons, firing into the void, but the beams dissipated harmlessly, passing through illusions of her comrades and enemies alike.

Starscream’s wings flexed frantically, but the space around him resisted movement. “What trickery is this?!” he shouted, his voice warped and echoed by the realm itself.

Megatron’s fusion cannon hissed in readiness, but even he hesitated, sensing that conventional force was meaningless here. “Unicron,” he growled. “This is your trap.”

A shifting landscape formed around each of them. Sunburst saw visions of her past failures and whispers of Unicron’s control. Starscream confronted echoes of the coward he once was, his fear and self-doubt amplified. Megatron faced visions of everything he had destroyed, every choice warped by Dark Energon, every consequence laid bare.

The test was clear: these were not physical battles. These were trials of will, loyalty, and identity—each designed to probe their weaknesses and force them to confront what they truly feared.

And yet, in the periphery, fragments of the battlefield lingered—the faint echoes of their allies still fighting, of Optimus, of Tarn and the DJD, of Shockwave and Soundwave, all struggling to maintain the illusion that Unicron could be held at bay.

“Break. Bend. Submit. Only then will the path be revealed.”

Sunburst’s optics narrowed. Starscream’s jaw clenched. Megatron’s chest hissed with steam and energy. They had no choice but to push forward.

The landscape shifted again, each pulse a test, each illusion a challenge, each step a question of their very spark.

And somewhere, deep within the void, Unicron waited—patient, eternal, and watching.

The void around them pulsed with light and shadow, shaping itself into impossible geometries. Every surface reflected parts of themselves they didn’t want to see.

Sunburst stumbled forward first, her optics flaring as fragments of her past flashed in front of her: the missions she’d failed, the innocents harmed under Unicron’s influence, the moments she’d questioned her own spark. The shadows whispered in voices she almost recognized — the faint echoes of Megatron’s authority, Starscream’s previous derision, even her own doubts.

“You…” a voice hissed from the shadows. “You are his puppet. You always have been.”

Sunburst fired her arm cannons blindly, but the shadows split and reformed, untouched. Her frustration flared, heat surging through her spark. “I… I am myself! I make my own choices!”

Meanwhile, Starscream floated, caught in a separate cascade of visions. He faced himself as he had been — the terrified, broken seeker, crushed under Megatron’s wrath. Each failure repeated, magnified, his cowardice shown for all the void to see.

“Pathetic,” a chorus of voices sneered. “A commander? You were nothing then… and nothing now.”

Starscream’s wings flexed, slashing at the illusions. “I am not him! I am… more than you ever understood!”

Megatron, farther ahead, was confronted with his own worst memories — the lives he had sacrificed, the sparks he had crushed under ambition and pride, every battle twisted by Dark Energon. He roared, blasting through phantom landscapes of burning cities, but the visions shifted to mock him.

“You would call yourself a conqueror?” a thousand voices demanded at once. “And yet here you are — powerless in the void.”

The trio’s trials began to intersect. Shadows of Sunburst’s failures merged with Starscream’s self-doubt, while Megatron’s memories bled into theirs, creating a fractured, chaotic terrain.

Sunburst’s voice cut through the void. “We are here! We fight!” Her optic flares illuminated part of the space, stabilizing the illusions just enough to give her footing.

Starscream hesitated, but the defiance in her voice reached him, igniting a spark of clarity. “We… we are not defined by the shadows!”

Megatron growled, his presence collapsing part of the void around him with sheer force of will. “You speak of defiance, little one… but it is only defiance that keeps you from breaking. Understand this—even now, the choices you make define whether you will survive.”

The trio’s voices—determination, defiance, command—began to harmonize, cutting through the illusions. The realm reacted violently, twisting, warping, trying to overwhelm them with fear, doubt, and guilt.

Yet each step forward solidified them. Sunburst’s confidence, Starscream’s cautious bravery, Megatron’s unwavering authority—combined—formed a tenuous bridge of clarity across the void. The projections, the whispers, the phantoms began to flicker, destabilized by their combined resolve.

And then a new voice, deeper and older than the void itself, rumbled through the fractured space:

“Courage… loyalty… fire of the spark… I see you.”

The void paused. A pulse of energy rippled outward, almost as if Unicron himself hesitated, watching these three who dared to confront him together.

But the trial was far from over. The illusions began to reform, stronger, more intricate — designed to fracture trust between them, to isolate them individually, and to force them to confront not just fear, but the consequences of their alliances and betrayals.

Yet, for the first time, Sunburst, Starscream, and Megatron moved with a tentative cohesion. They were no longer isolated sparks; the void was testing them as one.

The void seemed to warp further around Megatron, folding in on itself like a mechanical heart gone mad. Shadows of his past flickered across the fragmented space—cities he had razed, sparks he had crushed, allies betrayed for the sake of conquest. The air itself hummed with accusation, and each pulse seemed to sync with the memory of every choice he had made that had brought him here.

Then, he saw her. Not Sunburst, but the figure she would become—a reflection of the power he had indirectly helped shape. Her optics blazed with light, yet there was a chilling emptiness in her gaze.

“You created me,” the phantom said, voice a mixture of accusation and curiosity. “Do you understand the consequences of what you unleashed?”

Megatron’s hand clenched, energy crackling along his arm. “I… I did what was necessary. Every action I took was for strength, for survival. I did not create you—I shaped nothing but opportunity.”

The shadow shifted into others he had failed: Decepticons whose sparks had faded under his ambition, civilians caught in his campaigns, even those he had left behind in pursuit of victory. They reached toward him with hands of fire and smoke, whispering in unison:

“You chose power over them. You chose ambition over life. How can you lead now?”

He fired, blasting the illusions into splintered fragments, but each pulse only multiplied the shadows. Their whispers intensified, turning into a chorus that rattled his very spark. “You are a tyrant. A conqueror of nothing but ruin. And yet… here you stand, powerless.”

Megatron’s optics flared, amber light bright enough to carve through the darkness. “I am not powerless! I have faced gods, annihilated armies, bent the will of worlds! You—” His voice faltered, the shadows twisting into a mirror of himself. Megatron faced himself: younger, prideful, consumed by rage and Dark Energon.

“You chose this path,” the reflection said. “Every empire built on fear. Every life sacrificed. And now… you stand before a force greater than even your ambition. Will you crumble?”

Megatron’s systems hummed with restrained fury, yet beneath the armor, his spark thrummed in uncertainty. He clenched his fists and forced his optics to blaze brighter. “I will not crumble. I… will endure. I will survive this test and bend it to my will.”

The void responded violently. The fragmented space roared, testing his conviction, pushing him into visions of the possible failures that could result from trusting allies—Starscream, Sunburst, even the DJD. Every potential betrayal flickered before him like lightning striking metal.

And then, a singular voice cut through the storm—not accusatory, but measured, almost a whisper of challenge:

“Your choices have consequences… and yet, will you rise above them?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “I do not rise above. I am the rise. Whatever comes, I will endure. Whatever force stands against me… it will bend or it will break.”

For a fleeting moment, the void stilled. The shadows recoiled, not defeated, but respecting the spark of absolute will that radiated from Megatron. The trial was far from over, but the first step had been claimed—he would not falter under illusions of doubt.

The void shifted again, folding like liquid metal into a shape that made Starscream’s spark thrum with tension. Unlike Megatron’s oppressive storm of shadows, his trial was quieter at first—subtle, a whispering doubt that coiled around his optics like smoke.

He found himself standing on a shattered plateau, a reflection of Cybertron’s skies under siege. The air was thick with echoes of voices he knew too well—allies lost, enemies humiliated, comrades he had abandoned in pursuit of ambition.

A figure stepped forward, but not fully formed—more an impression, a mirage. It was reminiscent of the form he saw when his spark came close to snuffing out entirely. When he greeted him in the cold, languid room of creeping death.

“Starscream…” the figure said, voice a mixture of reprimand and longing. “Why do you falter? You’ve been given a chance to protect, to guide… yet you hesitate.”

Starscream’s wings twitched nervously. “I… I have never failed to do what was necessary! I have learned from the past. I am… changed!”

The mirage shifted, multiplying into others he feared—Megatron, laughing at his past betrayals; Decepticons he had undermined; the Autobots he had once plotted against. Each spoke in tones that clawed at his self-worth:

“You are still the coward who hides behind others’ victories.”

“You are still the traitor who covets power but fears responsibility.”

“You are still… insignificant.”

Starscream flinched at each echo, optics narrowing. He had survived countless battles, schemed and deceived, clawed to positions of influence—but here, stripped of allies and adrenaline, he faced only himself.

Then, the vision shifted, a brutal mirror of what might have happened if he had failed Sunburst. She stumbled, attacked by shadows shaped like Unicron, and he was powerless to intervene. The weight of that failure slammed into his spark, sending a shiver of terror down his chassis.

“No!” Starscream roared, claws digging into the jagged ground. “I… I will not fail! I will not let her—”

The void seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his doubt. Then, a voice, calm yet firm, cut through the storm of his fear:

“Strength is not only in ambition, but in the choice to endure, to protect what matters.”

Starscream’s optics flickered to the sky, realizing the truth of the words. He had grown, tempered by responsibility, by his connection to Sunburst, by the Autobots he had once scorned. He could still crave power, yes—but he could wield it without abandoning those who trusted him.

The mirages recoiled, replaced by visions of what he had preserved: Sunburst safe under his guidance, the Autobots standing firm, even Megatron restrained. Starscream’s spark surged with a mixture of relief and resolve.

“I will endure,” he said, voice steady, wings unfurling. “I will protect what must be protected. And I will not let fear dictate my choices again.”

The void pulsed one last time, then stilled. Starscream’s trial was not over, but he had found his footing—a spark tempered by responsibility, ambition balanced by compassion.

The ground beneath Sunburst shimmered, fracturing into a field of mirrored surfaces that reflected not only her exterior, but the echoes of the sparks that had come before her—mentors, enemies, and the towering shadows of Starscream and Megatron looming in her mind.

She took cautious steps, each reflection twisting into a memory. One showed her as a child, alone, trying to reconcile the power she did not ask for but could not deny. Another mirrored her training under Starscream and Skyfire—relentless, disciplined, a constant push to master both mind and spark. Yet the most insistent reflections were of Megatron: amber optics glowing, his presence cold but magnetic, unyielding in influence.

Then, the shadows thickened, coalescing into a form that radiated power—a partial awakening of Unicron. Though not fully realized, the projections attacked, not physically but spiritually, probing her mind for weaknesses, exploiting the pull between her loyalty, fear, and growing autonomy.

“You are mine,” the voice of Unicron hissed, reverberating through the fractured field. “You are the link… the vessel… the puppet of inevitability.”

Sunburst staggered, her spark quivering. Every reflection around her shouted contradictions: Serve him, resist him, obey, betray, trust, fear… Her chassis burned with conflicting directives, each one threatening to fracture her very sense of self.

Through the chaos, a whisper of Starscream’s voice reached her—steady, grounding, guiding. “You are not alone, Sunburst. Remember your training, remember your choice.”

She closed her optics, centering herself in the maelstrom of voices. Slowly, she could see beyond the illusions—she wasn’t just Megatron’s creation or Unicron’s pawn. She was her own spark, tempered by the relentless guidance of Starscream, Skyfire, and the Autobots who had fought for her trust.

With a defiant surge, Sunburst pushed forward, shattering one mirage after another. Yet at the core of the field, a final vision awaited: Optimus Prime, standing before an impossibly massive construct of energy, the embodiment of Unicron’s threat. His optics were resolute, knowing, commanding—and yet, he looked at her with a silent plea.

The choice became clear: she could cling to her spark, defend herself, or step into the unknown to act alongside Optimus, knowing that whatever she did could cost him everything.

A tremor passed through the field as the Matrix’s light pierced the void, connecting her spark to Optimus’s. He spoke, not in words, but in a forceful, unyielding will: The path forward requires sacrifice. Trust in what you have become. Trust in what you can do.

Sunburst’s spark surged in response, understanding at last that her trial was not about power alone, but about clarity—choosing a path not dictated by fear, ambition, or obligation, but by purpose. She reached forward, and the Matrix’s light enveloped both her and Optimus, binding them to the final act that would define the battle against Unicron.

The void pulsed, then shattered. Sunburst’s trial concluded not with victory or defeat, but with resolve. She was ready.

The fractured void of Unicron’s realm gave way as it deposited Sunburst, Starscream, and Megatron back onto the main battlefield. Sparks and debris floated in zero-gravity, remnants of the earlier skirmishes between Autobots, Decepticons, and the mirages of Unicron’s wrath.

Starscream landed first, steadying himself, his optics scanning the battlefield with practiced precision. The others were already engaged: Shockwave and Soundwave coordinated from the Decepticon flank, their calculations punctuated by bursts of destructive energy that kept Unicron’s projections at bay. The Trine brothers—Skywarp and Thundercracker—streaked across the sky in synchronized assaults, their aerial maneuvers designed to distract and divide.

Megatron’s optics narrowed as he assessed the field. His forces were scattered, morale wavering, yet the truce he had reluctantly forged with the Autobots granted him unexpected allies. Optimus Prime moved among the frontlines, issuing commands with calm authority, each word measured but carrying the weight of inevitability.

Sunburst fell into step beside Starscream, the air heavy with tension. Their trials had left each of them tested, sharpened, and unsettled, yet resolute. Sunburst’s spark pulsed with a controlled intensity, a fusion of Starscream’s guidance and Megatron’s latent influence, tempered by her own growing autonomy.

The battle began to escalate. Unicron’s partial awakening sent tendrils of raw energy lashing across the battlefield, distorting space itself. Mirages of the colossal entity struck from every angle, forcing Autobots and Decepticons alike to coordinate with precision or be torn apart. Megatron and Starscream moved with lethal synchrony, cutting through projections while shielding the more vulnerable units. Sunburst engaged directly, her saber a streak of light against the encroaching darkness.

Yet even in the chaos, moments of connection emerged. Tarn’s unit, loyal to the Decepticon cause, intercepted an oncoming energy spike, signaling a grudging coordination with the Autobots nearby. Shockwave’s calculations guided a precise strike against one of Unicron’s phantoms, while Soundwave relayed vital intelligence through a network of intercepts and encrypted channels.

And then, at the epicenter of the battlefield, the core of Unicron’s energy pulsed—the entity preparing to manifest fully. Optimus Prime moved into position, his optics meeting Sunburst’s for a brief instant. In that gaze, unspoken understanding passed: the culmination of trials, sacrifices, and alliances would determine the fate of all spark-kind.

Sunburst’s spark flared, Starscream’s wings arched in readiness, and Megatron’s fist clenched. Together, they surged forward into the maelstrom, ready to face the awakened Unicron—not as separate warriors, but as a fractured yet unbreakable convergence of wills.

The battlefield roared with energy as Unicron’s tendrils of destruction tore through ships and terrain alike. Sparks flew in every direction, missiles and energy blasts weaving a deadly dance across the void. Amid it all, Optimus Prime’s optics scanned the chaos with a measured intensity, analyzing every movement, every strike, every weakness in Unicron’s partially formed defenses.

And then it struck him — a clarity amidst the storm. Unicron was too vast, too resilient, too singular a force to be stopped by conventional weapons or even the coordinated might of Autobots and Decepticons. Every blow they landed was temporary, a ripple in an ocean of endless destruction. He realized, with the weight of inevitability pressing upon his spark, that only the Matrix could contain such power.

Optimus’s spark shuddered at the cost. The Matrix was not merely a weapon; it was the essence of Cybertron’s life, the culmination of centuries of wisdom and sacrifice. Using it meant drawing upon a reservoir of energy that would heal many worlds—but Cybertron itself might not be rejuvenated. And yet, the alternative was unthinkable: the galaxy reduced to fragments, every spark snuffed out under Unicron’s shadow.

As he stepped closer to the epicenter of Unicron’s assault, the weight of his decision pressed upon him. Around him, the Autobots and Megatron’s forces were locked in a desperate ballet of survival and attack, each unit contributing to a synchronized plan they barely understood. Sunburst’s saber streaked through one of Unicron’s manifestations, Starscream’s precision strikes destabilized another, and Megatron’s calculated assaults drove back yet another wave of energy.

But it was not enough. The partial containment of Unicron was collapsing; the void itself seemed to tremble under the entity’s will. Optimus Prime felt the Matrix stir within him, responding to the urgency, ready for the ultimate convergence. His optics flickered over his allies: their determination, their sacrifices, their sparks burning bright even in the encroaching darkness.

He knew what must be done. With a final glance toward Sunburst, Starscream, and even Megatron—a fleeting acknowledgment that this was beyond personal enmities—he spoke, his voice firm but carrying the gravitas of the choice he was about to make.

“Only the Matrix can contain this… and I will wield it. Cybertron may pay the price, but the galaxy will live.”

And with that, he opened the chamber of the Matrix, feeling the power surge through him, a light that could rival stars, yet a burden heavy enough to fracture the very essence of his being. Sparks around him flared in awe and fear as the battlefield seemed to pause, holding its breath for the impending convergence of wills that would determine the fate of all sparks in the galaxy.

The light of the Matrix tore across the battlefield like a lance of pure, blinding fire. Optimus Prime’s optics glowed white-hot, the immense power of the Matrix coursing through every fiber of his being. The very air—or what passed for it around the shattered moon—crackled with energy, distortion rippling across the surface as the celestial storm of Unicron’s essence coalesced into tangible, writhing darkness. Every step Optimus took sent tremors across the ground; every motion of his arms rippled with power strong enough to rend stars.

Unicron responded instantly, shadowy tendrils lashing toward him, forming jagged, impossibly large constructs that tore through rocks, ships, and energy fields alike. The Matrix flared and pulsed in reaction, shielding him, restraining, attempting to contain the primordial terror, but it was a war of wills unlike anything Optimus had ever faced. His servos trembled, and for the first time, he felt the weight of inevitable failure pressing against his spark.

Then a surge of energy, softer but luminous in its intensity, reached him from the distance. Sunburst, standing firm amidst the chaos, had unlocked her spark in ways even she barely understood. Her essence, imbued with fragments of Unicron’s tether from the earlier trials, radiated outward in a harmonic resonance, aligning with the Matrix. The light of her spark intertwined with the Matrix, stabilizing the containment, a lifeline of hope threading through the storm of energy.

“Optimus… I can help you!” she shouted, voice steady but strained, echoing across the fractured lunar surface. She extended her hands, her optics blazing as her spark poured into the Matrix, reinforcing its constraints.

But Starscream, maneuvering through the battlefield, saw the incredible energy pouring from Sunburst and felt a cold dread coil around his spark. He knew the dangers — the energy of Unicron, the Matrix, and Sunburst combined could obliterate anything in its path. His instincts as a warrior, and his fear for her safety, pushed him forward.

“No!” Starscream bellowed, flying through the debris and fire. “Stop her, Sunburst! She can’t—”

But it was too late. Sunburst’s spark had fused with the Matrix in a conduit of light and will, and the resultant force was beyond containment or hesitation. Starscream’s servos strained as he tried to grab her, to pull her back from the surge, but the pull was irresistible. Energy lashes ripped at his frame, forcing him to release his grip, yet even at a distance, he felt the searing, unimaginable force crackling around him.

The combined light of Sunburst and the Matrix erupted. A shockwave rolled outward, cleaving the fractured moonscape, vaporizing jagged spires of rock, and sending fragments of Unicron’s tether spiraling into the void. Starscream tried to maneuver away, but one final pulse—an unbearable, radiant surge—caught him directly. His optics flared as the energy enveloped him, tearing him from the shattered moon and hurling him into the cold emptiness of space.

Amid the devastation, the epicenter of the blast shimmered and contracted. Unicron’s massive, writhing form convulsed, tethered and restrained by the Matrix and Sunburst’s spark. The primordial titan’s shrieks echoed across the void, then—a final, violent compression—he was gone. Pieces of his energy lingered like fading shadows, tethered only by Sunburst’s residual spark, stabilizing what remained of the destruction around them.

Optimus Prime, however, had given everything. His servos buckled as the Matrix dimmed within him, splintering into warm sparks and dust, the cost of wielding such infinite power etched into his very form. Following the destruction of the Matrix, his frame did the same, collapsing in a starscape of particles, becoming one with the cold air of space. The residuals of his spark was like glitter to the backdrop of stars as he lay himself to rest amongst the very galaxy he had given his life to.

Sunburst stumbled backward, her spark trembling from the immense feedback, but she survived, her body and spark preserved by the fragments of Unicron’s tether. The tether, once a source of corruption and danger, now acted as a protective shell, sustaining her against the aftermath of cosmic annihilation. She looked across the devastation, breathing in the void through trembling optics, the weight of the battle, and Optimus’s sacrifice weigh heavily upon her spark.

And in the distance, across the battlefield, Decepticon and Autobot survivors alike began to assess the aftermath. Megatron, standing amidst the wreckage of Unicron’s tethered projections, watched Sunburst with unreadable optics, the residual power she had channeled glowing faintly around her. For all his ruthlessness, even he recognized the enormity of what had transpired, and the fragile balance between triumph and loss that had defined this moment.

The silence of the void was broken only by distant debris tumbling endlessly, and the faint hum of the Matrix’s residual light within Sunburst, a quiet testament to Optimus Prime’s ultimate sacrifice. The war had ended, Unicron was defeated, but the cost had been monumental—and the echoes of these sacrifices would reverberate across the stars for ages to come.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, a void that seemed to press against every spark present. The devastation of the battlefield stretched as far as the eye could see: shattered moonscape, fractured debris of Unicron’s tethered form, and the faint lingering hum of residual energy. But above all else, a void had opened where Optimus Prime had stood.

Ratchet moved first, cautiously stepping over fractured rock and fragments of energy residue, his optics dim and heavy with grief. “He… he’s gone,” he said, his voice low, nearly trembling. The word itself seemed impossible, unnatural. “The Matrix… it’s disintegrated. And with it…” His words trailed off, leaving the finality suspended in the air.

The Autobots around him, some still recovering from the shock of battle, looked to each other with stunned optics. Even Bulkhead, who often masked his emotions with brash humor, bowed his head in silent acknowledgment. The leader of the Autobots was no more — the spark that had guided them, the force that had held together the fragile hope against Unicron, had vanished.

Skyfire’s servos clicked as he moved toward Sunburst and the trine brothers, his expression grim. “Starscream is… gone,” he said, his voice gravelly. He gestured to the emptiness of space above the shattered landscape. Thundercracker and Skywarp scanned the horizon, and both realized the truth immediately: their comrade, protector, and friend was missing, likely swept away in the aftermath of the final blast.

Sunburst’s optics widened, her gaze scanning the void, searching for any sign, any trace of him. But all she could see was the endless expanse of space beyond the cratered remnants of the moon. A tight tension coiled in her spark—grief for Optimus, fear for Starscream, and the realization of the weight of her own role in the battle pressing heavily on her shoulders.

Megatron, standing apart from both factions, moved slowly, each step heavy with the realization of the cost. His optics, usually cold and calculating, flickered with uncertainty. For decades, his war had been defined by conquest, power, and the promise of Cybertron’s revival. But now, the very tool that could restore Cybertron—the Matrix—was gone. The war that had driven him, the struggle against the Autobots and for supremacy, suddenly felt hollow.

He looked at Sunburst, still glowing faintly from the residual spark of Unicron’s tether. Her presence reminded him of the purpose that had once driven him: a fight for dominion, a chance to reclaim control, a struggle against the cosmic threat. And now, with Optimus Prime gone, the apex of that conflict dissolved. There was no reason left to continue the factional war. No reason to prolong the bloodshed.

For the first time in centuries, Megatron was uncertain. He had no enemy strong enough to challenge him—not truly—and no purpose left to ignite the fires of war within him. Even Tarn and his Decepticon loyalists watched him warily, unsure if their leader would lash out in frustration or retreat in contemplation.

Skyfire moved closer to Megatron, placing a cautious hand on his forearm. “This war… it’s over, Megatron. The threat is gone, but so too… is the chance to continue what we were fighting for.” His tone was steady but carried the weight of reality.

Megatron’s optics narrowed, flickering between cold steel and something unreadably human. He said nothing at first, his thoughts turning inward. The war for Cybertron, the endless struggles with the Autobots, even the conquest he had once deemed essential—none of it mattered anymore. Without the Matrix, Cybertron could never be rejuvenated. Without Optimus, the ultimate balance had shifted, and the cost had already been paid.

Finally, he turned his gaze to Sunburst. “There is… nothing more to fight for. No faction, no war,” he said quietly, almost to himself. His tone lacked his usual authority, but it carried the weight of grim acceptance. “The universe has shifted, and so must we.”

Sunburst looked back at him, conflicted and cautious. She had seen his ruthlessness, his ambition, his capacity for cruelty. But now, she saw a rare flicker of something else—a recognition that the cycle of war, no matter how long, had ended, at least for now.

Skyfire, the trine brothers, and the remaining Autobots and Decepticons began to regroup, surveying the aftermath, tending to the wounded, and recovering what could be salvaged. In the stillness of the aftermath, there was grief, but also the faintest spark of something new: a tentative understanding that the war that had defined them for so long was over.

Somewhere beyond the reach of eyes and sensors, Starscream’s damaged frame drifted. Each passing moment chipped away at his spark, the remnants of his long-lived resilience fraying with every second. For centuries, he had endured near-impossible deaths, survived horrors that would have ended countless others, yet this time, something irreversible had taken root. The blast had left him not just broken, but disoriented—adrift in a landscape of nothingness, the boundary between memory and hallucination dissolved. He no longer knew where he was, or even what he truly was.

He couldn't see anything, his optics greeting him with a backdrop of black as they failed to turn on. His body felt cold, unnaturally so. For many moments, he didn't understand how he ended up here but all that he knew was that he was in pain and that he was losing sensation.

His spark flickered randomly, shuttering his systems as it failed to keep light. He felt like he was spinning and he wanted to go home, anywhere that wasn't the cold emptiness of space.

Breathing wasn't necessity but he could feel it escaping him as he drifted, confused, concerned of who he was and where he came from. Even as he took his final breath, all he could think of was that someone was waiting for him.

But as his spark flickered against the void, a sudden, searing light pierced through the emptiness. It was warm, resonant, and unyielding. It pushed his broken body in one direction, enveloped him, filling the void with its light, and stabilizing the shattered remnants of his spark. The ancient force; a beacon of renewal and guidance reached out, sensing the flickering life within the broken frame of the air commander.

And he breathed again as his body was reborn. The pain, the fractures, the countless battles etched into his being fused with the energy, forging a body and a spark both familiar and alien. He didn't know what was happening to him but he felt the voice of reason, heard it in his being as his optics came online.

Rise, Singularis Prime.

Somewhere beyond the reach of eyes and sensors, Starscream’s damaged frame drifted. Each passing moment chipped away at his spark, the remnants of his long-lived resilience fraying with every second. For centuries, he had endured near-impossible deaths, survived horrors that would have ended countless others, yet this time, something irreversible had taken root. The blast had left him not just broken, but disoriented—adrift in a landscape of nothingness, the boundary between memory and hallucination dissolved. He no longer knew where he was, or even what he truly was.

He couldn't see anything, his optics greeting him with a backdrop of black as they failed to turn on. His body felt cold, unnaturally so. For many moments, he didn't understand how he ended up here but all that he knew was that he was in pain and that he was losing sensation.

His spark flickered randomly, shuttering his systems as it failed to keep light. He felt like he was spinning and he wanted to go home, anywhere that wasn't the cold emptiness of space.

Breathing wasn't necessity but he could feel it escaping him as he drifted, confused, concerned, of who he was and where he came from. Even as he took his final breath, all he could think of was that someone was waiting for him.

But as his spark flickered against the void, a sudden, searing light pierced through the emptiness. It was warm, resonant, and unyielding. It pushed his broken body in one direction, enveloped him, filling the void with its light, and stabilizing the shattered remnants of his spark. The ancient force; a beacon of renewal and guidance reached out, sensing the flickering life within the broken frame of the air commander.

And he breathed again as his body was reborn. The pain, the fractures, the countless battles etched into his being fused with the energy, forging a body and a spark both familiar and alien. He didn't know what was happening to him but he felt the voice of reason, heard it in his being as his optics came online.

Rise, Singularis Prime.

Chapter Text

The dust of shattered moons had long since settled, yet the scars left behind by Unicron’s brief but devastating presence lingered in ways the Autobots could not easily measure. Earth had become both refuge and reminder—a place where silence could be as loud as any explosion, where absence carved hollows into hearts. Time had passed, though not evenly. Some days stretched languidly under the warmth of the sun, others contracted sharply with the sudden memory of a spark lost or a friend missing.

Sunburst moved through the hangar with quiet efficiency. Her optics, still bright and alert, traced the familiar lines of ships, tools, and salvage with an intensity born of both curiosity and lingering trauma. Training, once a structured routine under Skyfire and the Trine brothers, had become a personal rhythm for her, one in which precision and patience were inseparable. Even with Megatron now a looming presence on Earth, she found herself returning, always, to the fundamentals of control: of her spark, her powers, and herself.

Skyfire, observing from across the room, noted the subtle shift in her posture as she worked. “You’re holding back,” he said, stepping closer. “Not the way I taught you.”

“I know,” she replied without turning. “I’m… thinking. About everything.”

Skyfire tilted his head, knowing better than to press further. He had seen the weight she carried, seen how it pressed at the edges of her resolve. Even with Megatron’s presence on Earth reduced to quiet, mostly silent observation, the tension between what she was learning and what she had endured remained palpable.

Megatron himself remained an imposing figure at the far end of the hangar. He had taken to examining the remnants of Unicron’s devastation with the meticulous care of a general studying a battlefield. There was a stillness to him now, a rare patience tempered by the absence of his usual obsession with domination. Cybertron could not be healed; the Matrix, sacrificed in Optimus’s final act, had vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of its power. And yet, in those echoes, Sunburst’s presence stirred an interest he could not entirely conceal.

It was in the quiet moments, when Sunburst approached him with questions both tentative and bold, that the fragile lines of connection between progenitor and progeny began to form.

“You… aren’t what I expected,” she said one morning, voice careful, stepping around a series of dismantled consoles.

Megatron’s optics flickered, not in amusement, but in careful calculation. “And what were you expecting?”

“Someone… more distant. Perhaps more dangerous.” Her eyes lingered on the contours of his frame, noticing subtle shifts in the way he moved, the small but deliberate gestures that suggested restraint. “But you’re… here. Watching. Studying. Not… hunting.”

Megatron’s spark, always intense and calculating, met hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “I do not owe you proximity,” he said finally. “Nor do I offer it lightly. But the universe has shifted, and some calculations must be adjusted.”

Sunburst nodded slowly. It was not an apology. It was not affection. But it was acknowledgment—a recognition that, in the vast uncertainty of the post-Unicron galaxy, certain bonds had been formed whether they were chosen or not.

Across the hangar, Thundercracker and Skywarp moved through their routines with a subtle synchronicity. Their patrols of Earth’s perimeter, the careful maintenance of their craft, and the quiet coordination of defense protocols had taken on the rhythm of daily life, yet there remained a shared unease. The absence of Starscream was a wound that had neither healed nor scabbed. He had not returned. No signal. No trace. Only the quiet resonance of the void, where a single air commander had once sought vengeance and ambition in equal measure.

Occasionally, the Trine brothers would pause, scanning the skies, each with a different thought on the missing leader. “Do you think he’s… truly gone?” Skywarp would ask, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Not gone,” Thundercracker would reply, “just… not here yet. Whatever survives him, it survives somewhere else.”

Even Megatron, who rarely allowed himself vulnerability, occasionally cast a long gaze toward the void. There was a subtle awareness in him now, an instinctive sense that something—or someone—still lingered at the edge of reach. He did not speak of it, and no one pressed him. Some knowledge, he had learned, could be more effective as silent vigilance than as conversation.

Sunburst, meanwhile, balanced her training with growing curiosity. She moved closer to Megatron at times, asking questions about Cybertron, about Unicron, about choices made long before she existed. He did not answer everything, but what he did provide was measured, sometimes cryptic, and always tempered by a rare honesty. The awkward distance that existed at first began to feel like a fragile truce of its own—a bridge between past and present, between spark and progenitor.

In the evenings, the hangar would quiet. Repairs completed, patrols concluded, the Autobots would gather in small groups. Sometimes they would speak of Starscream in hushed tones, wondering, fearing, hoping. Yet the air remained unbroken, the tension just beneath the surface, a reminder that absence is not the same as loss.

And then, subtly, the signs began. A flicker on a distant sensor, a faint resonance on Earth’s electromagnetic field, a whisper of movement at the fringe of known space. Only those attuned to the shifts—the Trine brothers, Megatron, and Sunburst—noticed. A pattern in the energy readings, too brief to fully understand, yet familiar in its cadence. A spark that refused to die.

Days later, when the observatory sensors registered a disturbance just beyond the moon, it was Megatron who first tilted his optics upward. “There,” he said simply, voice low. “Something has returned.”

Sunburst, standing near him, followed the line of his gaze. Her spark trembled with anticipation, with recognition she could not yet place. “It… it’s him,” she whispered. Not fully understanding why, not fully knowing how she knew, but certain all the same.

Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanged glances. “Finally,” Skywarp murmured, though his voice held a note of uncertainty. “Finally… he’s back.”

It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. A shimmer of light on the horizon. A vibration through the magnetic field. Then, as if materializing from the very fabric of the void itself, the form took shape. Singularis Prime. A figure both familiar and alien, forged from countless battles, yet unmarked by memory. The air commander who had once schemed, plotted, and flown with vengeance and ambition was no longer the same. The optics burned with a new intensity, the frame sleek and commanding, yet the spark within carried no recollection of the past he had once lived.

Megatron’s optics narrowed, studying the figure as he approached Earth’s atmosphere. “It is him,” he said quietly. “And yet… not him.”

Sunburst stepped forward, her spark resonating in tandem with the faint pulse emanating from Singularis Prime. There was no recognition in his gaze—none yet—but the presence was unmistakable. The air commander had returned. Reborn. And the threads that connected past, present, and future began to weave themselves once more.

Time would pass. Trust would be rebuilt. Memories would return in their own way, shaped by experiences yet to come. And Earth, scarred but steadfast, would stand as witness to the beginning of a new chapter—a galaxy forever changed, yet moving forward, as the light of the Matrix had guided one lost spark back to the fold.

In the quiet that followed, Sunburst glanced at Megatron, uncertain, tentative, but unafraid. “We… we have time now,” she said softly.

Megatron’s optics lingered on her, sharp and unreadable. “Time is all we have,” he agreed.

And somewhere beyond the atmosphere, Singularis Prime hovered, unaware of the lives awaiting him below, the galaxy waiting to unfold anew, and the spark that would shape destiny yet again.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone,

I wanted to give a thank you to those who stuck around through the entire process of this novel and its entirety. Throughout the creation of this novel, I have gone through many ups and downs. Days where I didn't want to finish it but eventually pushing through to deliver even if I didn't want to write.

This book is one of the only ones I have successfully finished and has made me want to continue writing which led me to fulfill the things I wanted to do with other ideas/topics for novels in the future.


Now this is not to say that I plan on abandoning this fandom at all, there are plans to rework this book with more finality and better pacing. I can't say that I am happy with the final product of this book as it isn't my best work and it still has room for improvement. So please keep a lookout for that, if you want to read a better version of this story.

Thank you for the very kind and open comments. I loved seeing your speculations, your pronounced affection towards my interpretations of beloved characters and I hope I lived up to your expectations. 


Again, I thank you for being apart of this journey. This isn't the end.


See you all on the flipside
Votum <3

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