Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Decepticon Crypt was Interestingly circular.

Despite leadership being extremely important to Decepticons and usually concentrated in one mech above all others, in death, they were honored without preferential treatment. No one held a place or higher honor than the other, as a circle had no sides, front, or back. It couldn't even be implied based on context, as generally, the rule was if there was space then that’s where the new statue went.

Perhaps then it was the people that were included? Bloodron and Murdron were obvious choices; their runs as Decepticon leaders had been infamous. Thundercracker was an interesting, surprising addition, being not a leader at all. Megatron was a little more surprising since the mech that had his frame was currently walking around, sometimes remembering his past life and sometimes not. 

Currently, Starscream was a ghost and was staring at his own pedestal, contemplating.

He had been included, which was something. Not everyone who had died in recent memory made their way in here, to be lauded in death and even mourned. Part of him had been surprised they had even suggested it and began to build him from the ground up. 

But Galvatron had forbidden his statue to be finished.

Starscream narrowed his optics, heaving a great ghostly sigh.

Not removed. Just left it unfinished. It was humiliating in a way he couldn’t describe.

He heard them talk about it later. They all thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. They speculated that Galvatron didn’t want statues built to traitors, but that was a laugh, because what Decepticon leader hadn’t betrayed the one they replaced at some point? It was practically a rite of passage.

But they didn’t remove his statue dedicated to his legs. They kept it there almost as if to hope someone in the future wouldn’t wonder at his absence from the tomb and add him back in anyway. It was the first sign of being counted as lesser.

A blight in this crypt of equality.

Starscream noticed no one came to mourn him. The thought was sobering, but unsurprising given that Galvatron probably forbid it. He was sure the lines to pay their respect would be out the door if that awful mech hadn’t decreed it a crime.

… that had to be it. Anything else was unconscionable. 

The crypt was dark except for a single urn in the middle that held a single flame. Its light cast eerie shadows on the whole room, making it seem like he was among the living. Blooron gesticulating wildly about something. Murdron taking a step off his pedestal. Thundercracker shaking his helm in disappointment. Megatron laughing.

It was all an illusion of course. There was no sound down here as the mechs themselves weren’t here. Just their likenesses, placed here for people to reflect.

Starscream had done a lot of reflecting.

He needed to learn how to make Galvatron’s life a living hell.

Chapter Text

It was eerie how much their prisoner looked like Starscream.

Megatron didn't go into the interrogation room, staying on the hidden side of two-way glass. He let his mechs have their fun, quickly determining the prisoner had nothing of value to offer them. The mech spoke of another world where things seemed to be the opposite polarity to their own, and he was just as confused as to why he was there as they were.

He seemed particularly disturbed by the Decepticons themselves. He was shocked when one of them threatened to tear off his pretty wings.

They weren’t rough with him, per se. They treated him better than any Autobot prisoner, that’s for sure. But his mechs had a particular way of putting people on edge, and Megatron didn’t curve their inclinations. Megatron was fascinated by how the mech moved and talked, drawn to how different yet similar he was to his seeker.

The interrogators left, nothing of value gained. The prisoner was left alone for the first time since his arrival, and he looked like he was deflating on the spot.

The door opened again.

“I know who you are,” his Starscream said, entering. He casually strolled in like he owned the place, and sat down on the chair across the table from the bound mech. He put his heeled pedes up on the table, folding his arms in smug satisfaction.

The mech glared back. The blue optics he sported looked so strange on a seeker, but they fit him somehow. “And I can guess who you are.”

“I’m glad we’ve established the basics,” Starscream said, grinning warmly. Megatron knew that smile, and he wondered what his duplicitous second was up to. He hadn’t been asked to interrogate the prisoner, so he did this off the record. Starscream stared back for a little while and then started cracking up into a laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his helm. “I am just completely floored by the implications.”

The other seeker gave him a steely look in return and then looked down at the table before him. “I just want to go home.”

“And you will, my dear,” Starscream replied, leaning forward on the table. “But aren’t you a scientist, too? Does this not stir your curiosity about how far our similarities run?”

“I was curious,” the other said tentatively. “But then I got the impression I’d rather not know.”

Starscream smiled wickedly, and Megatron found himself… wanting. Something was brewing here, and he wondered, just maybe…

“You should be glad!” Starscream replied jovially. “If I am so evil in your mind, then that makes me your doppelganger, right? It just makes you the more righteous version, and that should ease your spark.”

“Ember,” the other replied, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Ember,” Starscream repeated. “Is that what you call it? Fascinating. Do you still… interface with embers?”

The mech tried to remain unfazed by the casual question and how Starscream looked at him, but Megatron could tell he wanted to squirm in his seat. “We do,” he replied. “But there are other methods, too.”

“With us as well,” Starscream replied softly. “I wonder how they differ?”

“I-I doubt they do,” the mech replied, poorly stifling a blush. “Physiologically, we don’t appear to be different and would be compatible—"

“My thoughts exactly,” Starscream said, standing. He walked around to the other side of the table, half sitting on it with most of his leg on the ground holding his weight. “You appear to have an almost identical frame to mine, except for the colors and some extra details.”

The mech looked up at Starscream with wide optics for a moment, clearly unsure if he welcomed the seeker’s sudden proximity or if he should be worried. Megatron could relate.

“Those are mods I added,” the mech said, his voice catching slightly.

“Mods!” Starscream said with surprise. He leaned forward and touched the handcuffs and restraints so that they fell away from the mech. The stranger recoiled slightly from Starscream’s exuberance, but Starscream was already pulling him up from the chair so that he could get a good look at him. The mech looked so bewildered and lost, but Megatron had already guessed the game here.

Megatron poured himself some high grade from a decanter on a table in his private room. He also commed Soundwave to ensure the recording of this interrogation was locked down from… prying optics.

Starscream was already touching their prisoner, investigating his frame for all these mods. He was cooing in awe, listening intently as the baffled mech gave some explanation as to their purpose.

Megatron almost missed it, but there was a singular, wry look that was aimed directly at the mirror as if Starscream knew Megatron was standing there, watching intently.

“What about this?” Starscream said softly as he traced a digit down the back of the mech, right between his wings. The prisoner stiffened and tried to step away, but Starscream gently grabbed him by the trailing edge of the wings, keeping him in place and pulling him backward a little. “Is it as sensitive as in me?”

There was a small silence accompanied by a small “Yes.”

Megatron chuckled, sipping his drink.

Starscream jerked him further back, so he was flush up against his chest. "What about this?" he purred, ghosting the tips of his digits around the outside of the mech's hips, encircling him in a possessive embrace.

The mech's breath hitched.

"Aren't you curious? It's always been a fun thought exercise," Starscream continued, petting his hips and up his side. "We would know exactly how to please each other."

"Assuming it's not the opposite," the mech breathed. Interestingly, despite his terse tone, he wasn't trying to escape Starscream's hold.

"I doubt it," Starscream said, his digits trespassing lower.

The captured mech reluctantly arched into the touch, biting down on his lower lip like it was steel his resolve. "And after this… experiment. You'll send me back?"

"Of course," Starscream said, subtly turning him and leaning him against the table.

Giving Megatron the perfect view.

Chapter Text

Megatron glared at the datapad. Starscream shifted his weight from one pede to the next, trying not to seem nervous.

There was nothing to be nervous about! His plan was flawless, and should Megatron accept it, his position would be secure. He would definitely be named second-in-command. Soundwave was good, but not this good. This plan required cunning, strategy, manipulation, feints, and careful precision—and Starscream was the mech to enact it.

“This… would require a lot of our resources,” Megatron said carefully, his gaze lifting from the datapad. “Resources that were hard-won and would be difficult to replace.”

His optics were calculating, and Starscream yearned to ease his fears.

“I assure you that this plan is our best option,” he said measuredly, trying not to sound as excited as he felt. Megatron’s singular attention was so rare that the intensity electrified Starscream. He had to keep himself calm. “I’ve accounted for everything.”

“This requires a lot of faith in you,” Megatron said. “You have skills, but even this is a stretch.”

“A challenge,” Starscream clarified, his mouth curving into a smirk. “And the faith you will have in me is the faith you have in yourself and your judgment. You asked me for this plan because you know I’m the best suited for it.”

Megatron appeared to be weighing something in his mind, making Starscream nearly vibrate with anticipation. Then he nodded. “Very well. I’ll trust you then. Consider it approved.”

Starscream’s face blossomed into a smile that he quickly covered over with a bow. “You won’t be disappointed!” he said in a harsh, raspy whisper, as if it were a prayer rather than a declaration.

Megatron waved him off, and Starscream ran off, holding his helm high.

“You might regret that, my lord,” came a voice from behind the throne.

Megatron looked over his shoulder to see the wizened form of Rotorlock come into view. The mech was among the oldest Decepticons to join their ranks, but he was respected for his experience and advice. He was a little too old to be fighting, but he made up for it by offering some words of wisdom and intelligence.

“Starscream’s strategy is sound.”

“That is not what I’m talking about,” Rotolock replied, bowing his helm. “Giving that mech anything will make him want more. The problem with that kind of creature is that as soon as someone else can offer him more, he’ll take that instead.”

Megatron furrowed his brow. “I appreciate your experience, but I know Starscream better than you do. He’s eager to please, and specifically me. He’s not a concern.”

“Mark my words,” Rotorlock said, shaking his helm. He began to hobble away on his cane, hunched over. “You’ll find fault in him soon enough. Why, I wouldn’t doubt you’ll catch him talking to the Autobots soon!”

Megatron grit his denta. “I doubt it.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Rotorlock said, smirking.

Starscream couldn’t sleep. He’d spent all day going over the battle plans, knowing he couldn’t make a single mistake. It would cost him more than just his life or the life of his comrades; he had a single chance and could not frag it up. Megatron’s optic was upon him, and it was his chance to prove what he was worth.

He tried to comm the Air Commander to see if he could go for a quick fly, but his comm bounced back without ever being received.

That… was odd. Something was wrong with their communication relays. He tried to comm anyone and found all of it was dead.

A jammer?

He ran to the communications room, skidding around corners only to find the guard, Astrotrain, knocked out and lying on the ground. Soundwave’s cassettes were frothing at the mouth in an energy cage, trying to get out but unable to escape. They called for help, but no one could hear them outside the muffled walls of the soundproof room.

Soundwave was going to be so mad when he returned from his mission.

At the console was Rotorlock, the old has-been, quietly typing away unhurried. His cane was discarded at his side as if he didn’t need it.

Starscream primed his null rays and fired, only for Rotorlock to leap from the chair, suddenly incredibly nimble.

“He’s a spy!” Frenzy cried. “You have to kill him!”

Starscream grit his denta, firing the mech again and again, and every time he missed. “Stay still and take your punishment!” he said with a snarl.

“And who is going to punish me if you can’t even hit me?” the mech said, letting his vocoder drop. His voice sounded young, and Starscream again cursed. Had no one vetted this old mech prior to letting him just walk around?

“We trusted you!” Starscream said, feeling oddly betrayed. He was actually more impressed the mech had gotten away with it. Starscream should have known something was off, but like others, he had discounted the mech because of his old age and affected limp.

“More’s the pity,” the mech replied, shooting Starscream in the wing. Starscream screeched, lunging forward and using his claws to slash into the mech’s plating.

He wasn’t very durable. He took a hit and immediately started bleeding energon all over the place, howling like he had been mortally wounded. Starscream was so stunned that the mech managed to shoot him again at point-blank range in the abdomen. Starscream doubled over from the pain, and Rotorlock ran around him and out the door.

“He’s getting away!” Rumble cried angrily. “You can’t let him!”

“I can’t- call anyone,” Starscream said, sagging against the console. “And it will take too long to get you out.”

“I wish Soundwave was here. He wouldn’t have gotten shot,” Frenzy said sullenly.

Starscream rolled his optics, looking over at the console.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe there is a way to contact Soundwave after all.”

“Lord Megatron,” Soundwave said over the din of their battle. “I have been monitoring the Autobot's communications. A message was sent from our base to Autobot spies.”

Megatron growled as he stomped over. “Who dared?”

“It’s… Starscream,” Soundwave said, surprised.

Megatron glowered as something in his tank twisted. “What is the message?”

“All I know is it was sent using Starcream’s login codes. He didn’t try to hide the message, but it’s encrypted. I don’t know what he said.”

Trust, once cautiously extended, began to wither away in the face of doubt.

Megatron sighed, wiping down his cannon and priming it for later use.

It wouldn’t really matter how much Starscream told him later that the message was innocuous. He would try to explain, plead, beg, excuse, but it didn't matter. Megatron would always wonder what was in the message and wonder about Starscream's true motivations. 

Because the idea that Starscream was ever genuine about anything?

A fantasy.

Chapter Text

Rush, rush, goes everyone, scattering like a dropped box of screws across the floor. One goes that way, one goes the other, and don’t they all know it’s pointless? Atmos can hear them no matter where they go.

He clutches the struggling mech in his grasp tighter and tighter until he's within his mouth. A gurgling scream pierces the air, and then there's nothing but a void where life once thrived. Atmos lives for that silence, the eerie calm that emanates from that nothingness. He dreams of the silence, craving it when he wakes. It's like an itch he can't quite reach.

It usually takes longer for it to get this bad, but he's immediately starving and lamentably, there are so few mechs left on this planet. Rather than ration his food supply, like a rational mind might, it's as if he grows more ravenous as his doom approaches. There are about a dozen mechs left that once teemed with millions, and he has consumed them all.

He hadn’t wanted to, not really. This was his home. His people died all around him because he had played too close with ways to save them.

“Atmos,” they cried. “Please stop this madness!”

"But the Madness isn’t the one killing you. I am," he replied as he sunk his fangs into another one.

They wore collars around their necks to try and stop his access to his favorite feeding spot. It afforded them some comfort that they had a way to resist him. In reality, he respected their need to have something to cling to, but the collars wouldn’t stop him. Still, he would often not drink from mechs that were wearing them. They thought the collar scared him like a sacred symbol. The mortals and their delusions.

Many rumors sprang up, some created by Atmos himself. He lacks a reflection. He turns into other creatures in their forest. He’s the mist, he’s the darkness, he hides in caves, he ate a star and became a demon.

They really believed everything about him except that he was sorry.

Atmos said that to them sometimes as he dismantled them from life. That he regretted killing them, and if he could find a way to stop, he would, but something drove him to consume. The same something also whispered of infection, but he didn’t know how to do that. Every time he managed to bite a neck, his optics went glassy black, and he’d lose himself for a moment, waking up holding another dead one in his arms.

They always called him a liar with their last breath, which stung, frankly. At the very least, they could try to comfort him. This wasn’t easy on him either.

What he wanted was a companion. A friend, at least, but really, he desired a lover. Someone to hold that wouldn’t turn to ash in his arms. He wanted to possess and own, coddle and protect, consume, but only slightly, bit by bit, but not entirely. Just enough to taste and adore. Everyone around him was too fragile. And soon, they’d all be dead, and so would he.

Maybe. He wasn’t sure he could die.

A rumble of engines sounded nearby, and on instinct, he morphed his frame to look less threatening. This was the body of Terrikos, an old friend of his, and he often assumed this form to befriend others.

Flying overhead—flying, can you imagine it?— But flying overhead were two mechs that landed on a cliff not too far from his location.

Terrikos could not scramble fast enough to meet them. The eerie silence hung heavily in the air, anticipation mingling with the shadows, as Atmos eyed the newcomers with a hunger that went beyond the physical.

Chapter Text

The night sky beckoned, and Starscream eagerly jumped into her waiting arms.

There were not many redeeming factors for this planet, but one of them was the general atmosphere of night flying. It was invigorating as it was beautiful, somehow more satisfying than flying on Cybertron because it was harder. Wind and weather were constant companions to his flights, making  it challenging and exhilarating to still do his typical, flashy flying.

He fell like lead and then transformed right at the last second, igniting his thrusters to maximum burn. He crowed in triumph; out here and alone, he could indulge in having fun.

He twisted in a tight corkscrew, spinning as if following a pole. He spun out into a hard helix and delighted in the hard Gs-as the humans called them-quaint and apt description-that compressed his frame and gave delightful pressure against his frame.

A good hard fly could be better than sex.

Especially if Starscream was piloting.

He indulged. No one could match him out here, and if he let his engines rev high, let his charge build, let the wind tease some wires- who would know? It's not like the sky was filled with voyeurs who could sense his need, chase after him with lust in their fields, pin him down roughly and frag him senseless—

Primus, he needed to get laid.

He did a complicated loop and spin, showing off for no one but his vanity, and let his frame heat and warm, the workout stretching and working his taut frame, letting him relax a little.

Wing beats. Heavy breath. A flash of yellow optics.

His mellow relaxation immediately turned to panic as he realized he was being overtaken by a hulking creature. He sensed claws and a laser-targeted attention, causing an unpleasant shiver down his back strut. He nearly screeched when the creature attempted to dive bomb him, reaching for him.

Oh. Predaking.

He opened a channel.

"Very funny, afthead!" Starscream said nervously. "I'm not flying out here for your amusement, so leave me alone!"

"What were you doing exactly?" the deep, brassy voice came in reply. "I was scenting all kinds of smells—"

"N-none of your business, you beast!" Starscream replied, trying to swallow his mortification. "Primus, don't talk about smells, you fragging moron," he said under his breath.

"Your flying was… exquisite," came Predaking's reply. "You sacrifice raw power for agility, and I can see the advantage."

Starscream was not immune to flattery, and bobbed a little in surprise at such a genuine compliment. "Not many recognize that," he admitted.

"You still can't fly as good as me," Predaking said proudly. "Seekers have clearly lost some technique in the years since Predacons ruled the skies."

Starscream scoffed. "Please, tell me another joke. I could outfly you at any time—"

"Then a wager," Predaking purred over the comm. "I can take you down in five minutes. If you escape, I'll recognize your mastery. If I catch you, however… you will allow me to take my prize."

What did that mean?

Part of him guessed. The lower part of his anatomy woke up and definitely guessed.

He cleared his throat. "Very well," he said, shooting off like a bullet, not waiting for a signal.

They hit the ground heavily.

Predaking's claws were in his shoulders and they were both panting heavily from exertion. Starscream looked up at him and sneered.

"You cheated."

Predaking smirked, and leaned down to start nuzzling his faceplate into Starscream's neck, licking the cables. "I broke no rule," he said. His voice went straight to Starscream's valve, and he hated how he felt himself grow slick and wet at the prospect of having that mouth on him. "But you smell as if—"

Starscream's face heated and he tried to push Predaking off him. "Stop saying that!" he hissed. Predating didn't budge, and if anything, his amusement grew as he pushed Starscream harder against the ground.

"Now what to do with you," he murmured. A claw ran down Starscream’s chest, offering a promise of pain if he displeased the beast. Starscream's mouth went dry as he watched the claw drift lower and lower before it rested on his navel. To his… observation, Predaking could practically wrap one servo around his waist. And hold him down. Or something.

When Predaking did just that, Starscream gasped, arching his back.

"So small," Predaking said, oddly pleased. "I never noticed before."

Starscream traced the inside of his cheek with his glossa. "Well. Get on with it!"

Predaking gently nipped his neck, letting Starscream feel his sharp denta. Starscream shivered, and quite without thinking, spread his thighs open.

"Good little seeker," Predaking murmured. "Submit to me."

Starscream's face heated. "That's what I'm doing—" his complaint was cut off by his gasp as Predaking pressed his palm against his interface panel.

"Why didn't I ever think to do this before?" Predaking asked. "But when I saw you flying, I could not resist the urge to have you beneath me."

Starscream could guess what had happened. Predaking might not have realized Starscream's sky dance was practically come hither in seeker culture, and perhaps some deep coding made it appealing to him as well.

Starscream's mood slightly plummeted. He hadn't realized he'd been flying so unabashedly and for no one. With his trine gone, no one would ever really appreciate his grace or mastery like they had.

Predaking sensed the change. "I'll admit I do not want to stop, as you are quite delectable right now. But should you desire—"

"Don't stop," Starscream whispered.

Predaking smirked and lowered his head to rest right between Starscream's open thighs.

Predaking stroked the plating with his large claws as if he could feel the folds of his valve, inspecting him and breathing warm, moist air over him. Starscream was thrilled and frightened that Predaking could truly hurt him now, but somehow he thought that wasn't what lay ahead.

Without being prompted, Starscream retracted his panels, revealing an embarrassingly wet valve and plump anterior node, protruding proudly and begging for stimulation. A guttural growl rose from Predaking's chest and his glossa lapped from the bottom of his valve up to Starscream’s node.

Starscream arched his back, trying to get away from the sensation, but Predaking grabbed hold of his thigh to keep him still. Starscream gave a whimper, unhappy at being forced to feel the glossa tasting him and exploring him, but at the same time the pleasure was undeniable.

"I can taste your arousal," Predaking said between licks.

"It'd be better if you just don't talk," Starscream said, using the palm of his hand to press Predaking's face up against his valve.

Starscream rather liked forcing the proud mech to eat him out, and before he knew it, Predaking had brought him to a thunderclap of an overload.

Encouraged, Predaking's attentions on his valve grew, and Starscream winced slightly as the stimulation was a little much. He was able to relax again, and already his charge was steadily building once more.

Predaking pulled back and revealed he already had his spike extended. It was girthy and plump, yellow biolights flaring on it as he started to rub it against Starscream’s valve.

And then there was a second bump against his aft.

"Is that… another spike?!" Starscream asked hysterically.

"I will take you," Predaking said, ignoring him. "You will scream my name."

The sheer confidence this mech exuded was both annoying and attractive at the same time, and Starscream hated that he grew wetter at the words. As if to coax him into answering, Predaking nosed his spike against his node. He bit his lip, clearly anticipating the same thing Starscream was.

Starscream swallowed his pride. "You downed me and won the wager. Take… your prize."

"I will admit though," Predaking said spreading his thighs, lining up his spikes. "You are the better flier."

Chapter Text

“Damn it, Jazz, we gotta go!” Ironhide bellowed over the comm.

Jazz wasn’t hurried as he kept typing away at the console. “We’ve got at least fifty seconds before the seekers do another bombing run. Plenty of time.”

Ironhide growled in displeasure. “Jazz, I swear to Primus, even you aren’t that good. There’s no way you can wipe the hardrives—”

“Already done, sweetspark,” Jazz said, standing, and then pulled out explosives with timers. He set them to forty seconds and then thought about it again, bringing the timer down to thirty. He set them down gently and got out of there like a turbobat out of hell.

It was kind of annoying that Ironhide and many others treated him like a normal soldier. Yes, a normal soldier was not that good. A normal soldier wouldn’t have designed a scorched-earth erasure protocol specifically for this eventuality. They kept painting him with a broad brush, and as cool and chill as he was, sometimes he just wanted to be treated differently for how good he was.

He screeched around the corner, smirking to himself as the first explosives went off. He wished the Decepticons luck in trying to piece what was left in there back together to get some kind of intelligence. His erasure protocol was fun because it left behind an encrypted file, making any data miners think there was some kind of tantalizing tidbit left on the drives. They’d work tirelessly at unlocking it, and when they did, they’d get a cheeky picture of Jazz with his glossa extended and giving them a lurid gesture with his fingers.

Jazz laughed to himself. He could only imagine what Soundwave would think—

He came around another corner only to see the mech himself.

“Oooh, Wavey-baby. Didn’t expect to see you in here so soon,” Jazz said with a wicked grin. He immediately checked the pings of his mechs, making sure no one had been hurt at Soundwave’s premature arrival.

He received all green, meaning Soundwave had been quite considerate in his infiltration. Jazz secretly appreciated it.

“Jazz: Was expecting Soundwave?” the tape deck said, coldly staring him down.

Even now, in the visored face of extreme danger, Jazz could feel himself get a little jittery around Soundwave. And it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“I’m always expecting you when it is most inconvenient,” Jazz said, still smiling. He knew Soundwave would see him shift slightly to reach for his weapon, but it was also a silent message that he really didn’t have time for games with his favorite rival.

Soundwave seemed offended. “Jazz: knows better than to pull a weapon on Soundwave.”

“I know, darling, but I don’t have time to play with you right now,” Jazz said, stepping backward.

“On the contrary,” Soundwave intoned.

Jazz’s frame froze in paralysis. He had missed a hidden panel on the ground that electrified him and rapidly drained him of power.

He twisted and started falling, collapsing from the weight of his limp frame. The electricity had stopped, but shutdown was imminent, and Soundwave, of course, caught him gently, cradling him in his arms.

Jazz gave a soft laugh. “A stasis mine? That’s so boring,” Jazz said, his words slurring.

Soundwave didn’t reply, but his visor glinted in amusement.

“Jazz: Welcome back.”

Jazz onlined with a start.

His battle protocols raged to life, immediately assessing the situation and throwing all possible scenarios, even the most unlikely ones, into a logic tree.

The first issue, his hands were bound above his helm. He was immobile, dangling from a chain up above. He was weaponless. But… he still had all of his limbs and didn’t particularly hurt… yet.

He was not in the Decepticon base, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Being in the enemy base meant there was a record—some kind of official proceeding.

Jazz was in one of Soundwave’s dark sites, and that meant… well, it meant Soundwave was feeling a little kinky.

And Soundwave was currently waiting for a response.

The mech sat on a chair across from Jazz, watching him intently. His back was ramrod straight and his hands were gently folded in his lap. Perfectly poised, controlled, placed, and Primus did Jazz want to mess with him. He always did—Soundwave was like Jazz’s catnip. Something about him made Jazz want to trip him, scratch him, kiss him, dent him—something to see that perfect veneer crack.

After overcoming his initial panic, Jazz relaxed his frame. He gave a little hoarse chuckle. “Thank you for the welcome party, but Sounders, sunshine, you don’t have to keep doing this. You literally could just take me out for dinner.”

Soundwave ignored him. “Jazz will submit to questioning.”

Jazz made a hum in doubt. “You know, it’s been a while since we did this. I think last time it was you on a table and me holding the reigns, right? Kaon? Back in 12072024?”

“Iacon,” Soundwave corrected with a tired monotone. He knew perfectly well Jazz had said the wrong place on purpose, just to get him to engage in conversation. Jazz considered it a win. “Duration: too long.”

Jazz arched an optic ridge. “Yeah. Too long,” he agreed. By now, Soundwave had finally stamped out all of the vulnerabilities that Jazz had been exploiting since the last meeting. “So, what is it this time? Hacking? Tracking device? An embedded bomb?”

“Poison,” Soundwave replied, his visor brightening.

Oh. “Poison,” Jazz repeated, somewhat disappointed. Just as he thought it, he did start to feel some tingling running through his energon lines, especially in his hands and pedes. But it didn’t feel anything special.

“Poison: will shut down motor functions one by one,” Soundwave continued, proud of himself. “Vital systems are preserved until the final end. You will feel hot and cold at the same time and experience some painful euphoria, causing you to hallucinate. It will slowly leech away your vibrance and and then you will expire.”

Jazz sighed. “You won’t get anything from me, Soundwave. You know that,” he said, admonishing. “There are so many new protocols in place now that I am very much the last to know things. On purpose,” Jazz said with a wink.

Soundwave looked skeptical.

“Baby, there are safeguards and fail-safes in my processor now that I didn’t even design. I don’t know how they work.”

“If Jazz did not design, then they are surmountable.”

Jazz traced his glossa down the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back his pleased smile. “You flatter me, but I am not infallible.”

“But you are gifted. A worthy adversary.”

The poison slowly leeched through his systems, and Jazz sighed. “Why can’t we do this like normal mechs?” he said exasperatedly.

“Jazz will submit to questioning.”

“No, seriously,” Jazz tried again, squirming slightly in his bonds. “We could just, you know, interface or something? Burn through the palpable sexual tension between us with actual sex? Imagine that.

Soundwave clearly rolled his optics underneath his visor. “Jazz will submit to questioning.”

Jazz heaved the greatest of sighs. “No, Soundwave, don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything, please have mercy, I’ll tell you want to know,” he said flatly and without enthusiasm.

Soundwave stood from his chair and walked away.

“Oh, don’t sulk,” Jazz said. “You know I have antidotes for poisons built into my frame. This is asinine.”

“Jazz: has antidotes?” Soundwave asked over his shoulder, surprised.

“Of course I do,” Jazz replied.

“Then use them.”

Jazz rolled his optics and accessed the code to let the antidotes release. And they did.

“Amazing. They aren’t working,” Jazz said with a sigh, slouching on his chain. The poison was starting to hurt a little, but his sarcasm was keeping his mood up.

“This is a very special poison,” Soundwave said, walking closer to him. “That only works on you. Soundwave: concocted it to Jazz’s specifications only.”

Jazz froze. He searched Soundwave’s face and knew the mech was telling the truth. And a deep, dark part of him was… touched.

“Oh,” Jazz said, feeling the euphoric part of it. He threw his helm back in rapture. “Oh, Wavey-baby, you shouldn’t have…”

“Only the best for you Jazz.”

And Jazz believed him, smiling through the whole thing.

Chapter Text

Skyfire trudged down the hallway of his apartment complex, longing for his wash racks.

He felt disgusting after being out in the smog all day.  He had not delighted with the idea of this assignment from the Environmental Commission at all, and now he was paying the price.  His usually white plating was a dirty yellow color, and he hated it.

But it was worth it if he could catch the corporations in their obvious lies.

The levels of PFOSS and PFOAS in the air were far higher than what was legally allowed, and he knew he had them. But he had to check their specific reports to find out if they had lied in their findings or cleverly hid the truth in turn-of-phrase.

When he finally got to his door, he input the code and walked in.

“I was wondering when you would get back.”

Skyfire stopped just inside his apartment, his wings flaring back behind him.  His small, dark apartment looked ransacked with things broken and littered all over the floor. 

And standing in the middle of the chaos was Starscream.

“What…?”

Starscream arched an optic ridge.  “It was like this when I got here.”  He turned around so that his back was to Skyfire, looking at the mess.  “You seem to have really pissed some mechs off.”

“No,” Skyfire said, trying to keep his voice calm. He stepped deeper into his apartment and let the door close behind him.  “What… why are you—where have you been?!”

Starscream turned and looked over his shoulder. His red optics looked slightly surprised at Skyfire’s tone, but he shrugged.  “Around,” he answered with a mock smile.

Skyfire clenched his denta, and stormed into the apartment until he was right in front of Starscream.  He reached for him, and to his surprise, Starscream didn’t try and get out of his grasp and allowed himself to be moved.  “Starscream, I haven’t seen you in months.  I was afraid something had happened to you.”

Starscream looked up at Skyfire, his optics still unreadable.  “You should have more faith in me than that.”

Skyfire shook his helm angrily.  “That’s not—" he started, but Starscream had stopped him by jumping up using his boosters to press their lips together.

Kissing Starscream was always a struggle.  He used kisses like a weapon to illustrate or punctuate a point, and he was so damnably good at it that he often won whatever argument was happening.  Right now, Skyfire already felt himself surrendering, wanting to forget all those restless nights he had spent worrying about Starscream and what had happened to him.  Starscream tasted and felt so good.

Starscream smirked and pulled back a little from the kiss.  Skyfire leaned forward, chasing after the lips, but stopped himself when he realized what he was doing.  “I missed you,” Skyfire said quietly.

Starscream chuckled, a mischievous glint in his optics. "Missed me, huh? You're softer than I thought, Skyfire."

Skyfire scowled at the teasing remark, but the worry and frustration melted away in Starscream's presence. The chaotic state of his apartment suddenly seemed less important than the fact that Starscream was there, in the flesh, and seemingly unharmed.

"What happened?" Skyfire asked again. "Did you get caught up in something you shouldn't have?"

Starscream scoffed. "Please, as if anyone could catch me."

Skyfire huffed, a mix of irritation and relief coursing through him. "You can’t explain everything away with a kiss. You can't just disappear without a word, Starscream."

Starscream's expression shifted, his optics revealing a hint of vulnerability. "Things... got complicated. I couldn't risk involving you. But I'm here now, and that's what matters, right?"

Skyfire wanted to be angry and demand an explanation, but the warmth of Starscream's frame against his and the genuine look in those crimson optics made it hard to stay upset.

"Fine," Skyfire conceded, releasing Starscream from his grip. "But next time, at least send a message or something. I was worried sick."

“I will do my best,” Starscream promised. “Now, let’s clean up this mess and get some dinner.”

Skyfire detected the note of hollowness to the promise but decided not to bring it up. Not tonight at least. Tonight, he wanted to bask in the idea that Starscream was home.

Because it felt like he could disappear again at any moment.

Chapter Text

Skyfire sat in the mess hall of the Ark, slowly drinking some energon as he looked over a datapad.  It was late, and there were not a lot of bots still lingering around before going to recharge.

It had been a terrible week.  Despite having befriended the Autobots after waking up, they hadn’t rescued him until they needed him again for some kind of mission in Peru.  That hadn’t exactly been the rousing welcome he had hoped for, but it was a smidge better than the Decepticon’s brand of terror.

Speaking of which.  His thoughts had been purposely skipping over a certain seeker lately.  Optimus Prime and the other Autobots had been gentle with him but had explained in no small amount of words that the Decepticons were extremely dangerous and that he was lucky to be alive for double crossing them.

What they didn’t explain was how much time he had actually lost, and how much culture and history he had to catch up on.  The Mechs here alternated between treating him like he was about to betray everyone because he had wings, to being an outmoded relic of the Golden Age.

Skyfire didn’t have much to do.  He wasn’t an exceptional fighter and they already had resident scientists who had a head start on integrating human technology and their own.  He was learning, and they were kindly patient with him, but he was frustrated.

He still hadn’t come to terms with how things were fine just a few months ago, and he and Star were exploring the galaxy without anything plaguing them other than making the choice of where to go next.

Bored, he began to look through his old messages on his comm.  Most of them had been corrupted over time, but he didn’t have the heart to delete them yet.  It was odd though that it looked like he had received a recorded comm message in the past few mega-cycles.

It was on a private encrypted channel from his space exploration days.  He opened it with some trepidation.

:…this thing probably doesn’t even work anymore…: came the raspy voice.  The voice was thick and just a little slurred.  Skyfire knew what drunk Starscream sounded like, and this was… well this was definitely it.

:… but then again, maybe it does!  They don’t make encrypted comms like they used to!  Soundwave is always bugging Megatron to get mine replaced because he can’t listen in, but luckily ‘ole buckethead can’t be bothered…:

Skyfire frowned a little into his energon cube.  

:…right so I’m still probably just talking to myself… like normal…” Skyfire could hear the seeker shifting wherever he was.  :…But uh I just wanted to tell you that… you’re stupid.:

Skyfire sighed and was about to delete the comm, the message, the connection; just completely purge it, but he heard the seeker take a ragged breath.

:You are such a moron.  Honestly.  You should never have trusted me.: Skyfire thought the statement was an attempt to be cruel, but the delivery had been… bitter.  :You believed everything I said when you first woke up without question… I had forgotten what that felt like.  Anyway, you’re an idiot.:

Skyfire was oddly confused.

:…glad you aren’t dead.:

Skyfire sighed and went back to brooding and drinking energon.  Things were always so complicated.

But he didn’t delete the connection.

Skyfire had been tempted to tell the other Autobots about his one-sided conversation from the second-in-command of the Decepticon army, but he found more and more that the opportunity never came up.  He had been busy lately as they had him working more in the science department and he was finally able to contribute.  It was a good feeling to be needed again or at least to have a purpose.

As he was doing some calculations for a design for a new energon synthesizer when his comm crackled to life again.

: You know, what? I take back everything nice I ever said about you,: Starscream said, his voice strained.  : You’re a self-righteous, boring, irritating shuttle that I can’t believe I ever picked for a partner.  I could have taken anyone on that exploration mission with me, but I chose you .  I still don’t know what I was thinking.:

It was already obvious to Skyfire that Starscream was mad about something else.  He still seemed to enjoy deflecting his anger from what was actually upsetting him instead of dealing with the actual problem.

But there was something almost hysterical about his voice.  

: You are an idiot and I-: 

The comm abruptly cut out.

Skyfire froze in his calculations and looked over the connection.  It was like Starscream had muted himself, and though Skyfire didn’t want to let on that he was actively listening, he wanted to send a connection ping.  He didn’t… care of course.  But something about the timbre of Starscream’s voice frightened him.

Seconds turned into minutes, and the anxiety of not knowing what was going on was gnawing away at him.  He kept trying to go back to his task, but he found he was so distracted he kept doing the same motion over and over again.  He lost count.  He forgot if he had already done a calculation.

He eventually caved and pinged the connection.

There was a pregnant pause until a return ping came back weakly.

:Didn’t think you were listening.:

Starscream’s voice was weak, tired, and almost sounded resigned.  :You were just going to let me sit here and think I was talking to myself.:

:Again?: Skyfire asked with a small smirk.  He went back to doing his calculations.

:Yes… again. I got into the habit a while ago.:

The conversation felt… weirdly normal.  Skyfire was aware that talking to Starscream in this capacity was a little like betraying the Autobots, but he also was curious.

:Are you alright?: Skyfire knew he shouldn’t ask, but did anyway.

There was a pause on Starscream’s end, a small sigh and a shifting.  :Just… great.:

Skyfire frowned.  :I knew something was wrong when you started to insult me.  You like to do that when you are anxious.:

A snort came from the other end of the line.  :Anxious.  What do I have to be anxious about? :  He was being sarcastic of course, but Skyfire couldn’t quite suss out the context or meaning.

:I suppose you might be worried about something the Autobots are doing?:

Starscream snorted again.  :Cute.  Wrong, but cute.:

Skyfire frowned deeper.  :I really shouldn’t be talking to you.:

:Then don’t.: Starscream sounded like he didn’t care, but Skyfire wasn’t fooled.

:It’s just that I’m in the middle of an experiment you see.  Can you call back in an hour?:

There was another surprised pause, and Skyfire thought he could imagine Starscream’s surprised face, a slight reset of his optics, his mouth slightly open.  

And Skyfire knew he was right when he heard Starscream say, :Whatever.:

The line cut out and Skyfire smiled, going back to his experiment.

Chapter Text

“He didn’t actually do it.”

The silence across the comm spoke volumes.

“He… wouldn’t be that stupid,” Starscream maintained, pushing more fuel to his thrusters.

“I regret to inform you,” Thundercracker started, his voice tight, “that we are talking about Skywarp. He absolutely would be that stupid. And you were stupid for daring him to do it.”

Starscream would have rolled his optics if he had them in his alt-mode. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“And I don’t appreciate stupid trineleaders who should know better than to dare their eager, suggestable trinemate to warp into the Decepticon crypt.”

Starscream snorted, trying to parse the ridiculous notion. A seeker warrior suddenly appearing inside some overly-important religious sect temple? It was absurd. “He’ll barely fit amongst all that pomp and circumstance,” Starscream said, snickering.

“Correct,” Thundercracker said tersely. “Part of it will likely be damaged in his attempt. I can see the headlines over the intranet now. ‘Attack on the Ancient Crypt. Bloodron Outraged. New Holy Crusade Planned Against Stupid Seekers.’”

As funny as Starscream found the idea, the full picture did start to sober him. If Bloodron heard that some seekers were goofing off in the crypt, the tenable alliance between seekers and the Decepticons might crumble around them.

“Skywarp never listens to me!” Starscream said, yet again increasing his speed. Thundercracker followed suit, only lagging slightly. “Why would now be any different?!”

“He wants to impress you! You’ve been ignoring us for months!”

Starscream sighed. He hadn’t done anything of the sort; he’d just been busy with plotting Bloodron’s downfall, is all. “He’d impress me a lot more if he fragging just followed orders—”

A ground-to-air missile flew right past Starscream’s nosecone, missing him by microns.

“Decepticon seekers, surrender now!” The stern voice over the comms was unmistakably Autobot, and Starscream couldn't help but scoff.

"Surrender? How about you surrender your stupid morals, you phased anphasic array, and bow before your future rulers!" Starscream retorted.

 “Maybe you should focus on keeping Skywarp out of trouble instead of badly insulting every being you encounter,” Thundercracker said flatly as he fired countermeasures against a missile of his own.

“So helpful, trinemate,” Starscream sneered as he dived to avoid another missile. “That’s easier said than done,” Starscream replied, dodging another missile with a casual barrel roll. “He’s like a walking calamity. And I’m good at insults!”

Another barrage of missiles shot toward them, prompting Starscream to accelerate even more. “You called them a phased anphasic array. What are you, 60 million years old?”

“I was being ironic!” Starscream snapped.

“You need to work on your delivery then,” Thundercracker deadpanned.

They continued to avoid the attacks from below, but their progress to the crypt had slowed dramatically. They either could continue to fight the Autobots or they could get to their erstwhile trinemate, taking a dare too far and goofing off in the sacred Decepticon crypt.

“Thundercracker, I have a plan,” Starscream announced.

“Does it involve more irony?” Thundercracker replied dryly.

“UGH—Just follow my lead,” Starscream retorted. He turned on his engines to maximum, heat roaring out his afterburners. Thundercracker followed suit, his frame clearly straining from the intense burst of speed.

They broke the sound barrier, which knocked back their Autobot foes, and pretty soon, they had outpaced any danger from them as they crossed back into Decepticon territory. While they had escaped danger for now, unfortunately, everyone could hear them coming.

They got to the crypt and transformed, landing heavily outside on the steps. Starscream was panting to cool his systems; the burst of speed had nearly exhausted him.

Skywarp owed them big time.

Without saying a word, Starscream stalked up to the giant, ornate doors and tried to pull them open. They didn’t budge. After trying helplessly for another minute, Thundercracker rolled his optics and came over to help.

But even together, the doors would not open.

Starscream felt a surge of panic. If they couldn’t stop Skywarp from being found out, then there was not much they could do—

VWOP.

Skywarp appeared at the end of the stairs, facing away from them with his wings pointed down.

“Skywarp, you idiot,” Starscream called. “I wasn’t serious about the dare!” He stomped down the steps and punched his trinemate in the shoulder. “We almost ate some Autobot missiles for you!”

“Skywarp, are you okay?” Thundercracker said, coming down the steps.

Skywarp slowly turned and looked at them, his optics wide. His pupils were blown wide, making his optics almost black and empty. “I wasn’t in there. They’ll never make a statue for me,” Skywarp babbled, looking terrified.

“Whoa,” Starscream said, stepping back in surprise.

“Hey ‘Warp? Snap out of it,” Thundercracker said, patting him on the shoulder.

“They make one for both of you. Or half of you,” he said, looking at Starscream with pity.

“What the frag is wrong with you?” Starscream said.

Skywarp blinked and then shook his helm. “Sorry. That was weird.”

Starscream and Thundercracker exchanged glances before Skywarp reached for both of them, pulling them into a quick hug. Starscream squawked, and Thundercracker grew concerned, but then it was over. “Now, I’d say you owe me a drink since I completed the dare so flawlessly!

Despite Starscream’s complaints, Skywarp was given many, many drinks that night.

But it wasn’t enough to erase what he’d seen in the crypt.

Chapter Text

When Shockwave inherited this lab, he was told it was his to do with what he wished. His breadth of work spoke for itself, and he had no need to prove himself. He could pick his projects and was free to pursue them as he wanted, especially if he could be thrifty with resources.

But under no circumstances was he allowed to open the one door marked crudely with “Basement.”

Which was preposterous. The base didn’t have a basement. It was an old converted military installation, and Shockwave had poured over the blueprints, looking for this basement and what it possibly held—but it was not there. It did not exist.

And yet, the door’s markings indicated otherwise.

Shockwave burned with the need to open the door. He would do his experiments in the expeditious quiet of the lab, but he found his optic constantly drifting over to the door. He wondered.

It was illogical to be so consumed with what lay beyond a door. But he was.

“I heard there was a nuclear accident,” Skywarp offered unprompted when he saw Shockwave’s gaze. “Lots of ugly deaths and stuff.”

“There is no record of any such event,” Shockwave scoffed, grabbing the supplies from Skywarp’s arms. “You are dismissed.”

“Still, makes you wonder, though,” Skywarp continued. “Maybe it was something they didn’t keep a record of?”

Shockwave practically had to push him out the door.

“Yeah, the handwriting is mine,” Scrapper said, examining the door the next day. Shockwave had called him for his… professional opinion. “I made a lot of these doors back when we were first building fortifications in Kaon, but I don’t remember making it specifically for here. And it was already installed when I got here, too,” he said, running his hand down the rivets on the door’s surface. “Weird though,” he said contemplatively. “This door has seen some damage on the other side.”

Shockwave irised his optic. “Damage?”

“Like something was trying to get out.” Scrapper shrugged. “Anyway, let me know if you need anything else.”

Shockwave stared at the door for another few minutes before returning to his experiment.

Shockwave fired his gun at the door, blasting it to nothing. The smoke billowed out, hitting some old fire suppression systems and casting extinguisher foam over the corner of the lab. Once the smoke had cleared, Shockwave stepped closer to inspect what was on the other side.

Inside was an empty closet.

“That took a record amount of time,” the smarmy voice said behind him.

“Starscream,” Shockwave said, turning around. “This was your doing.”

Starscream smirked. “I test all the new ‘scientists’ this way. I suppose your curiosity is stronger than most.”

Shockwave looked back at the closet and then back at Starscream. He wasn’t sure what to say and quietly returned to his experiment.

Starscream furrowed his brow. “Aren’t you angry?”

“Not particularly. My curiosity is assuaged. So is yours. It was a good ending to a query.”

Starscream rolled his optics and left, saying something derogatory under his breath.

Shockwave began moving things into the closet, delighted by the extra space.

It was only logical to start thinking about revenge later when Starscream least expected it.

Chapter Text

Kicker had given up about an hour ago.

His eyes had glazed over as the familiar fear had enveloped him. He drifted away from his broken tether into the dark pit of space, waiting for the abyss to swallow him whole.

He hated space. He hated his dad for dragging him out here once again and not protecting him like a dad was supposed to. The first time it had happened, he'd gotten a stiff pat on the back. He had nearly died and his worthless father couldn't choke up a single word to comfort him.

Now there was no comfort. Just the familiar darkness taking over, leeching his life.

There was no use panicking. Not anymore. He'd had his hyperventilation that had sapped his oxygen in half, and he'd be dead in five more hours. The heater in his suit was also failing, leaving him with the echo of warmth, which was almost worse than never having having it before.

Kicker spun slowly in place, end over end, and he grimaced. It was such a fucking waste. He was going to die out here, alone, and all of that hero bullshit he'd heard for years only made him think he had a chance.

He closed his eyes. Just fucking hurry up and die, he asked his body. Just skip to the part where this is over, and he doesn't have to feel like a small kid again, powerless and abandoned.

"You're far from home," a wry voice said.

Kicker opened his eyes to see the weird phantom transformer standing in front of him with his sword pointed at Kicker's throat. Starscreen? Nightscream? He couldn't remember.

"If you're gonna kill me, just do it," he said tiredly. "I'm really over it."

The mech narrowed his optics. "I thought humans tended to beg for their life." He put his sword away onto his back.

"What humans did you make beg?" Kicker growled, tensing. He might have no hope, but damn it, he'd kick a robot's ass if they were torturing humans.

"I don't know from personal experience," the mech replied. He drifted almost playfully upside down from Kicker, looking at him with his green optics. "I've just been told about their behavior."

"You're Starscream, aren't you? Alexis, Rad, and Carlos said you used to talk all the time."

Starscream furrowed his brow and then turned away. "You won't survive long out here. Are your pathetic friends going to rescue you?"

Kicker noticed the subject change and wasn't going to let him wriggle out of it. "They told me stories about you. I'll be honest, I don't see it. I heard you were a disloyal sack of shit, changing sides all the time, but what you're doing now is just ridiculous." Kicker folded his arms across his chest. “Working for Megatron again? Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”

Starscream was still looking off in the distance and seemed to let his hand drift to his chest absent-mindedly. “Megatron is worthy of loyalty.”

“He’s worthy of nothing,” Kicker spat. “He has no integrity.”

“What did you say?” Starscream asked, turning towards Kicker sharply. There was an intensity in Starscream’s optics, and he didn’t sound angry, just urgent.

“Megatron isn’t a leader with integrity. He’s a selfish prick.”

Starscream blinked his optics a few times and then sighed. He reached forward and pushed Kicker backward.

“What are you doing?!” Kicker said hysterically. He tried to flail, but he continued to move away.

Starscream watched him as the distance between them grew. “You’re heading in the direction of your precious friends—the ones apparently full of such integrity you care about. At that speed and direction, you’ll get back there with a few minutes to spare on your oxygen.”

Kicker’s eyes went wide. “Wait!”

“I wish I could have seen you beg. Guess we’ll have to try again next time.”

“Hold on!”

But the distance had grown too wide.

Chapter Text

“Slag,” Deadlock said, lifting a pede in disgust at the amount of energon spilled on the ground.

“When I said I needed backup,” Starscream started tersely, “I meant immediately.”

Starscream was currently prone on the ground, bleeding out of a large gaping wound on his side. He was holding himself together, but it looked bad.

Deadlock growled and stomped in, leaning down to look at Starscream. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Would you like one to match?!” Starscream snapped. Before he could reach up and grab Deadlock by the collar, he hissed and threw his helm back in pain. “Where the frag were you?!” he said through clenched denta.

Deadlock felt a little bad. “A last-minute detail from Megatron.”

“Didn’t he know—ugh—you were supposed to be my backup here?”

There was a beat as Deadlock let the silence answer instead. “There weren’t supposed to be so many of them,” he said contemplatively. “Can you stand?”

Starscream curled on his side, and immediately, his optics glazed over. “Give me a minute,” he grunted.

That meant no. Deadlock looked around, counting the number of corpses Starscream had mowed through, but didn’t see the leader. He frowned and looked back to Starscream.

“Hey, we gotta move. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“You will do nothing of the—hey!” Starscream squawked as Deadlock ignored his complaints and gathered him in his arms.

“We’ll both be in deep slag if we don’t get moving, Commander,” he bit back. He quickly navigated around the corpses, noticing that Starscream wasn’t complaining as much as he should have. He looked down and saw that the Commander was ailing, growing pale.

Deadlock frowned.

They returned to his ship, and he dumped Starscream into the co-pilot’s chair. He turned on the engines full-blast, having a bad feeling that this could not be this easy—

And sure enough, their ship jutted forward as a loud explosion pinged off their hull.

“Guess you didn’t kill all of them,” Deadlock said, pulling up hard on the yoke to get airborne.

Starscream chuckled darkly. “What, Megatron’s pet assassin wanted this job to be easy? It shouldn’t—shouldn’t be—hard…”

Deadlocked looked over, and Starscream had passed out.

“Damn it,” he groaned, spinning the ship into the air. He realized quickly that Starscream wasn’t going to make it back to the Decepticon’s main flagship in time.

Thinking quickly as he evaded the missiles, he realized they were quite close to one place he knew that could help him.

With… some convincing.

“You were supposed to lose my number,” Ratchet said, hands on hips.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” Deadlock said, smiling brightly. “And how could I ever forget you, Ratch—”

“I meant it,” Ratchet interrupted. “You picked up that ugly purple thing on your chest, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”

This wasn’t quite the reunion Deadlock was looking for. He had managed to lure Ratchet away to an abandoned warehouse outside the hospital campus but Ratchet already looked like he was about to bolt. “Look, I could really use your help. See, I was just in a fight—”

“Are you hurt?”

“Uhm, a little—”

“Well, tough slag,” Ratchet said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Consider it getting off easy! And lose my number for real this time!” he said as he walked away.

“Wait, Ratchet, wait, it’s not me that needs help! Please, Ratch, he’s dying!”

That made Ratchet stop in his tracks. “Who is?”

Deadlock grimaced. “Does it matter who?”

“You kind of look like you drank sour energon. It’s not like you have Megatron in there, right?”

“Ha, no, not Megatron,” Deadlock said. “That would be so stupid, even for me,” he added.

Ratchet immediately looked suspicious. “Right. Well, let’s look at this dying mech then.”

One look at the co-pilot’s chair had Ratchet almost backing up and falling out of the ship.

“Ratchet, please—” Deadlock said plaintively.

“You have got to be fragging kidding me,” Ratchet said, turning on Deadlock with disappointment in his optics. “Of all the mechs do drag to my door, you bring fragging Starscream. He can rust for all I care!”

Deadlock’s mouth went dry. “I—I messed up. I was supposed to give him backup on a mission, but I was late. This is my fault.”

Ratchet shrugged. “So he dies. Do you know how many Autobots will likely live because he’s dead? Do you know how many Autobots would have been saved if I hadn’t helped you all those years ago? I have to live with that, and I’m not going to live with more regrets.” He pushed past Deadlock. “If your conscience hurts, then figure out how to live with it. I want nothing to do with it.”

Deadlock grimaced. “And how many Decepticons would have lived if you hadn’t saved certain Autobots? Don’t give me that slag, Ratchet. You’re not stupid; Autobots are committing atrocities right next to us.”

“Really making your case,” Ratchet said under his breath.

“Please, Ratchet. Just help him out. For me.”

Ratchet looked up at him, and his optics softened. He looked back at Starscream and then shook his helm, already pulling out a medkit. “I’m going to live to regret this.”

Deadlock smiled, finally exhaling the breath he’d been holding.