Chapter Text
Megatron didn't seem like a threatening bot. Not unless you were in the Pitts against him, that is. He was tall, entirely silver, with dark red optics. His frame was covered in old welding scars, and a multitude of scratches. He didn't look like a leader. Still, this was apparent the bot who had originally asked for a special task force unit.
The Combaticons.
Megatron had trusted Onslaught to create the team. The jobs and hits Onslaught had been sending him on were part of some test. Something about finding the missing two members, which ended up being him and Vortex.
Megatron stood in the middle of the arena. He gazed at the crowd gathered around him. The whole arena chanted his name.
"Megatron! Megatron! Megatron!"
He raised his arms and the chanting became louder. Onslaught had told him all about Megatron, about their cause, the Decepticons, and their mission to remove the functionist ideals from Cybertron, uniting the planet. Blast Off had never really considered the caste system before. Bots like him, the shuttles and flyers, sat comfortably around the middle. He was above the miners, above the builders and labourers. He could afford enough to live, had the right to a name. Sure, he hated his original purpose and couldn't stand the job he once had, but he could get by. Now, in the arena, listening to the cheers of the underclass, Blast Off finally realised why Cybertron needed to change. It all needed to change.
"My fellow Cybertronians! The time to rise up is almost upon us! For too long, we have been ignored, beaten and starved! No more, I say! When we march as one, Cybertron will see us! They will hear us, and they will listen! As one, we are united to take a stand against injustice! No more will the Senate and the Primes ignore us! No more will society dictate who we can be! We will rise up and take our rightful places in society! They will deny us no longer! Rise, my brothers! Rise, my sisters! Till all are one!"
The arena erupted with cheers and applause.
"Till all are one!"
Firsts were raised, a fire lit amongst the crowd. They chanted as one. Hundreds of voices, all belonging to bots who had been wronged and robbed by the Senate and flawed their system. Hundreds of voices united by a dream. A functionist-less Cybertron. Blast Off, in that moment, believed in this dream. His voice joined in.
"Till all are one!"
"Till all are one!"
"Till all are one!"
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Sentinel Prime died too quickly for Blast Off's liking. The reports said it was a murder, but Blast Off knew it was more of an execution. He watched as Megatron beat the life from Sentinel's frame, watched as his colours left him. By the time Megatron was done with Sentinel, his body laid broken in a crater.
They left the body there as a warning.
No more Primes, no more so-called leaders.
No more deception.
But they didn't stop there. The Senate were next.
Megatron had planned the whole ordeal. A small group of Decepticons were captured and arrested, only for them to break out and slaughter the entire Senate. Starscream and Soundwave did most of the culling, as some bots were calling it. The Combaticons hadn't been involved. Instead, they spent most of their time tracking down the Senate's most loyal bots and offlining them.
Their team mostly worked in the shadows and specialised in creating unrest and as much chaos as possible. The constant paranoia amongst the different classes was impossible to ignore. There were an increased numbers of departures from the planet. Some bots were calling it evacuations. Blast Off wouldn't say they were wrong to flee. The fighting certainly wasn't going to calm down anytime soon. If fact, it was likely to get worse. All those past rumours of war were starting to come true. Cosmos had commed him not long after these evacuations began. He said it was hectic down at the docks. Bots were panicking and no one had the answers for anything anymore.
Within a few cycles, the whole planet had been thrown into utter chaos.
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Cosmos had reached out to him again. The Decepticons had just worked with Orion Pax to kill Zeta Prime. War was on the horizon and bots were being forced to pick a side. Evacuations had halted momentarily. Too many bots were fleeing and not enough were able to fly then off the planet.
The saucer was scared. His small frame jumped at every sound, even a pin drop. Blast Off had never seen his friend so unnerved and frightened. Cosmos had asked his friend to meet him by Macer's, or what was left of the place. It was sad to see the small shop reduced to ruble. Upon seeing Blast Off, Cosmos visibly relaxed. He lowered his field, and practically ran towards Blast Off.
"There you are! I was worried about you! You haven't been answering my calls, I thought you were hurt." He gave the shuttle a quick hug. Blast Off shrugged off the concern. "I'm a tough bot, Cosmos. You don't have to worry about me."
"Right." Cosmos sounded hurt, and Blast Off immediately regretted sounding so nonchalant. "Thanks, though, for looking out for me." He quickly added.
"So, what's your plan?" Cosmos asked. Blast Off frowned. So that's what this is about. He wasn't sure he should mention the Decepticons to Cosmos. His friend was stressed enough, but there was no way to avoid bring it up. Blast Off may not be wearing their emblem just yet, but he was still very much a con.
"What's yours?" He attempted to deflect.
Cosmos thought for a moment. He fiddled with his digits before coming to a decision.
"I was thinking of joining the Autobots."
"What? No, Cosmos, you can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because they're-they're led by a Prime, for Cybertron's sake!"
"But Zeta Prime could be different? At least he isn't brutally murdering bots in the streets."
"He's a Prime, Cosmos! Watch, I bet Zeta's going to be worse than Sentinel! Primes only care about themselves! That's why Megatron's fighting for change!"
"Blast Off, you...?"
"Look, Cosmos, if you want to help out, then just flee the planet! You're too small to be a soldier, you'd do more good helping with the evacuations."
"You joined the Decepticons?" Cosmos didn't sound surprised. In fact, he sounded like he'd been expecting this.
"Cosmos-"
"Did you know about the attack on the Senate? On Sentinel Prime?"
"Cosmos, wait, it's not like that-"
"Did you, Blast Off? Because if you did, then I-I can't look at you the same way ever again!"
The heavy silence that followed was enough if an answer for Cosmos.
"How could you?" He asked, cold and angry.
"They had to go, Cosmos. They all had to go."
"So you murdered them?"
"You don't get it, Cosmos!" Blast Off shoved the saucer. "You're barely on this planet! You don't get how bad it's become!"
"How dare you! I understand plenty how messes up everything was! Cybertron needed to change, but that doesn't justify murdering everyone in your way! Frag! What happened to you, Blast Off? You're supposed to be my best friend! We were meant to have each other's backs! But now, I..." the saucer's frame shook.
"I don't know who you are anymore."
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The war was brutal, and unforgiving. Bots with clean servos were now stained red. No bot was sinless, and corruption on both sides ran rampant. Blast Off spent most of his days with ringing audios and picking shrapnel from his armour. He began to wear his face mask more frequently. He kinda had to, being out on the front lines all the time. The mask helped a little with preventing inhalation of smoke, dust, and even gas. Blast Off was fortunate his ventilation systems were top of the line, one of the only good thing about being a shuttle. The other being he could reach high-up buildings.
Kaon had many skyscrapers. Whilst some had been reduced to rubble, a few still stood tall. Blast Off was thankful for that. He enjoyed the time away from all the other bots. Especially Vortex. Primus did he hate him. Ever since the Combaticons began sharing a bunk together, the chopper had developed a habit of standing over Blast Off whilst he was recharging, and scaring the shuttle awake. Blast Off made sure to choose one of the more distant skyscrapers to roost on. Out here, he was less likely to be found. For the extra peace, he silenced his comm, not that it rang much anymore. The only bots who tried to get in contact with him were his team, and this was only related to missions.
The skyline was a mix of dark blues and fiery reds. In the distance, Blast Off could see a scorching city, and if he strained his audio receptors, he could hear the faint gunfire from some ongoing battle. It was a sad sight, all the destruction, and the notion that somewhere, someone had taken their last intake, but he'd quickly become accustomed to it all.
Down below, Seekers whizzed past. They darted between the rubble, turning the ruins into an obstacle course. They quickly disappeared into the horizon, the sound of their engines faded moments later. Blast Off was sometimes jealous of the aerial acrobatics Seekers could perform. In terms of flyers, those guys were superior.
Blast Off had been sat on the ruined rooftop for a vorn before the rooftop door creaked open. Straight away, Blast Off knew it was Onslaught. The pedsteps were a dead giveaway.
"Did you have to choose the tallest building?" Onslaught grumbled. The poor grounder had probably climbed up two hundred flights of stairs. Blast Off chucked. "The idea was that no one would find me."
"Wouldn't have to if your comm was on."
Onslaught sat beside him, one leg propped up and the other hanging off the side of the rooftop. He leaned back on his right servo, whilst his left rested comfortably over its matching leg.
"Figured you'd got hurt, so I came looking."
Blast Off shrugged. "Just wanted to ignore the world for a moment."
"Don't we all."
They stayed up there for vorns, sitting in comfortable silence, watching the distant smoke wafting up towards the night sky, snuffing out the nearby stars. Bright flashes lit up the sky, yet no sound followed. Then, it all stopped. The gunfire, the explosions, even the fire seemed to freeze.
Then it began all over again.
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"It makes sense," Swindle said as cleaned the barrel of a rifle. "You are our second."
"What?"
The Combaticons had been given their own small hanger off base to store their weapons and gear in. Swindle used the place to sell weapons off world to Decepticon loyalists. Blast Off leaned against Swindle's workbench, watching the jeep assemble different guns. Across the room, Brawl sat passed out in a chair, an empty bottle of enjex laid on the floor. Blast Off had approached the jeep with a question: how come Onslaught keeps trying to find me?
Swindle reattached the barrel. "You're our second in command."
"I am?" Blast Off stood there confused. Since when had he been given this title.
"Yes, did Onslaught not tell you?" Blast Off shook his head. Swindle chucked. "Sounds about right."
"I thought Brawl was our second."
Swindle threw his helm back and laughed. He pointed at the slumped-over form of Brawl. "You thought that was our second? You sure are dense, Blast Off. Haven't you noticed everyone's new attitude towards you? Primus, even Vortex treats you with some respect now!"
Blast Off stood in silence, processing the new information. So, he was apparently the second in command of the Combaticons, yet Onslaught had forgotten to tell him.
"Is this why he had me come with him to Megatron's last meeting?"
"Don't tell me you thought he brought you because Brawl was passed out?" Blast Off's silence spoke volumes. Swindle howled with laughter. "Primus, Blast Off, you're a riot!"
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The artillery fire barely missed the trench, instead grazing the top layer of the ground above. Rock and unearthed rubble rained down on the soldiers as they drop to their knees, desperate to seek cover. Blast Off watches a bot drop-dead beside him, a large piece of shrapnel buried within the bot's helm. Blast Off has to crawl over him to get away from the second strike.
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The rooftop became his safe heaven, a place he could escape from the war. Of course, this space was shared with Onslaught. The two would always sit in silence, before unanimously deciding to leave, always taking the stairs, even if that was a hundred flights.
The shuttle found himself looking forwards to their rooftop moments. It was the one constant in this primusforsaken war that he actually enjoys. It was weird at first, these quiet, calm moments with Onslaught. The bot was aggressive on the battlefield. He was ruthless, merciless, unforgiving. He yelled orders after orders, pushed against Autobot resistance, commanded with a fire. Yet on the roof, he was quiet. He never spoke except to announce that he had, once again, found Blast Off. It was a funny little reverse to the battlefield they fought on. Out there, on death's playground, Blast Off would follow Onslaught into hell. Here, and now, on their roof, it was Onslaught that followed Blast Off to a moment of peace.
Blast Off found himself not only growing attached to these simple moments, but to Onslaught as a whole. The bot had many sides, and Blast Off was curious to see them all.
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They had lost the payload.
The energon would have lasted them a mega-cycle, and now the Autobot's have it.
Onslaught's grand plan hadn't fallen through. The joint efforts from both the Combaticons and Megatron's new brute force, the Stunticons, hadn't been enough to stop the Autobots.
Megatron had originally thought to punish both groups to give up their energon to make up for what was lost, however that would mean he'd possibly risk losing both teams to starvation. So in the end, he only punished Onslaught and Motormaster.
Onslaught had locked himself into one of the meeting rooms and began to trash everything in sight. His team waited outside. Brawl would flinch everything he heard something break, Vortex looked ready to break something himself, Swindle stood there anxiously. Blast Off, however, simply waited. He knew Onslaught would calm down in time, and he didn't mind waiting however long it took.
"You three, go recharge. Megatron's bound to have us busy in the following cycles recovering what we lost. Get the rest whilst you can."
The team looked between each other hesitantly.
"You sure, Blast Off?" Swindle asked. The shuttle nodded. Soon he and Vortex wandered away. Brawl remained. The tall bot shuffled on his peds.
"Yes, Brawl?"
"It's my fault, you know. I caused us to lose that energon. Shouldn't it just be me that gets punished?"
"You made a mistake, Brawl."
"This is war, Blast Off! I can't afford to make mistakes!"
"Then learn from this and change!"
Brawl looked like a kicked cyber-puppy.
"He doesn't know it was me." He said quietly
"Not yet."
"Are you going to tell him?" He asked, flinching as something, probably a chair, amassed against the other side of the door.
"I don't know what I'm going to tell him, Brawl, just- you're dismissed, alright."
Silently and slowly, Brawl left. Now only Blast Off remained. He waited till the sounds died down, before hot-wiring the control padd to allow himself access to the room.
"Get out!"
Blast Off refused. He stood in front of the door, servos at his sides, quietly observing the state his leader was in.
"Get out, Blast Off!" Onslaught growled. His voice cracked from the stress. Still, Blast Off refused.
Onslaught approached, there was a thunder to his steps. "You got something to say, Blast Off?" He grabbed the shuttle by his left shoulder strut hard enough to leave small dents in the armour. "You think this is my fault, don't you? I want to hear you say it! Tell me how I failed, that this is all my fault! Say it!"
"You did your job, Onslaught. You did what was asked."
He shoved Blast Off towards the door and turned away with a yell.
"Shut up!"
"It's true though. It wasn't your fault we lost all that energon."
Onslaught seethed. His frame shook with rage, and there was a murderous glow in his optics. "Then who's was it?"
Blast Off knew he had to give Onslaught a name. If he didn't, his leader was just going to fly off the handles again. However, did he really want to direct this rage towards Brawl?
"Well-"
"Who, Blast Off?"
"It was..."
Ah scrap, this is going to come back and haunt him one day.
"It was Wild Rider."
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The war was taking a turn for the worse. Anyone could see it, very few admitted it. Megatron, their once ambitious-for-change leader, had abandoned their original goal. To him, the war wouldn't end until Optimus Prime died. This was no longer about changing the future, this was about grudges and rivalries.
Blast Off just hoped it didn't get him killed in the process.
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Onslaught had been more trusting of Blast Off recently, even going as far as to refuel with just him. They spent most of their time planning assaults and mapping battlefields. There was this sense of pride in noting it was him that Onslaught trusted so much. Not Brawl, not Swindle or Vortex, but him.
Lately, however, it hadn't been just pride that Blast Off felt. Being around Onslaught left him in a trance, like the bigger bot was a magnet and Blast Off caught in his field, always gravitating towards him.
He wasn't sure when he first started feeling like that. Every time they brushed against each other in a cramped room, or if their digits touched whilst exchanging data Padds, Blast Off would feel a jot of electricity run through his circuits. It was exhilarating, but also quickly becoming a problem. Blast Off couldn't focus on anything but Onslaught. His presence was demanding, captivating. Blast Off couldn't focus in meetings, couldn't sleep at night, couldn't breathe when Onslaught so much as looked at him! His gaze was intense, commanding, as if saying 'look at me'. Blast Off would obey every time. Onslaught had Blast Off wrapped around his digits and he didn't even know it. Worst of all, it was beginning to cost Blast Off.
That's how he awoke in the medbay, ventilator on his face, chassis cracked open, his frame bent this way and that way, and entirely in pain.
He couldn't remember anything, couldn't speak. His optics flickered with life, barely lit up underneath his visor. His HUD was filled with red warnings and damaged systems. He was certain he looked dead, he certainly felt like it. Through the haze of static, he could only make out one thing: Onslaught.
His leader was sat beside him, arms crossed, helm hanging low with shame.
"Can you hear me, Blast Off?"
Yes, he thought, I can hear you.
"You're a fool."
Talk about kicking a bot whilst he was down.
Blast Off tried to move, even if it was a single digit, but his HUD flared to life with more warnings and threats of shutting down.
"You're a fool, and I expected better from you! What you did was nothing short of suicidal! Taking a shot from an artillery gun like that! I don't know how you're alive, but it better stay that way!"
Onslaught stood from the chair, fists balled.
"I expect you to pull through! Do you hear me, Blast Off! Make a full recovery, that's an order! And once you're on your peds again, I expect you to apologise to the Constructicons! Primus knows how they've managed to keep you online, but be thankful they have!"
He exhaled shakily, muttering something Blast Off couldn't hear, before turning on his heels and storming out the room.
Blast Off passed out after that. He awoke again three cycles later, his condition improving ever so slowly.
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It took more than a full moon rotation before Blast Off was back on his peds, and even then it took him another moon cycle to relearn how to walk. The Combaticons were patient with him, and better yet, hopefully about him making a full recovery. On his first official day back in action, Blast Off wandered into the hanger after receiving a message from Swindle. He knew the jeep had fallen behind with his shipments due to Blast Off's injury, and he expected Swindle was going to make him pay for the loss of profit. However, when he arrived to the hanger, he found the lights off. Strange, but perhaps Swindle hadn't arrived yet. Blast Off reached for the switch and-
"Surprise!"
The hanger erupted into cheers and Blast Off was jumped by most of the aerial bots. He jumped backwards, caught off guard by the surprise.
"What's going on?" He asked, still on edge by all the bots surrounding him. Swindle pushed to the front with a toothy grin. "What does it look like, idiot? It's a party!"
"A what? Why?"
Skywarp appeared from nowhere and threw an arm around Blast Off. "For your recovery, duh! And for that stunt you pulled! Seriously, that was impressive!"
Stunt he pulled? What stunt? He still couldn't remember what had caused his accident. One minute, Onslaught was leading the Combaticons into battle, and the next he was laying half dead in the medbay.
"Skywarp." Thundercracker warned when he saw the shuttle's peds threatening to give way. "He's just recovered. Go easy."
"I'm fine." Blast Off said as he finally shook Skywarp off of him. He took a moment to notice everyone standing around him: the coneheads and another trine of Seekers he'd never actually talked to before standing off to the back, Mixmaster and Bonecrusher giving him a thumbs up, Starscream stood on the opposite side of Thundercracker and wore that stupid smirk of his, the triple changers stood off to the side, all of them enjoying what looked like high grade, Brawl was walking over to him now, a cube in hand, even Laserbeak and Buzzsaw sat on the rafters overlooking everything. And then there was Vortex. The chopper stood as far back as one could be from the crowd. He held a cube in his servos, staring at Blast Off. However, unlike every other time, his stare lacked its usual venom. If anything, Blast Off might say it even looked relieved to see him. Ok, that was probably a stretch to say, but for once, Vortex didn't seem to hate him, which was both nice and weird.
Blast Off must have done something Vortex-level of stupid if the copter didn't hate him.
"Where's Onslaught?" Blast Off asked Brawl as the grounder handed him a drink.
"Sulking, I think."
"Why?"
Swindle chuckled. "Who knows? Anyways, try and enjoy yourself! It's not like we ever have a reason to celebrate anymore!"
Blast Off allowed the crowd to carry him around the room, everyone having something to say to him. Astrotrain seemed the most relieved to see him. The triple changers had probably been covering for him with pickups and drop-offs. As the party progressed, other bots popped in to steal a glass of high grade, and congratulate Blast Off. Onslaught was not any of these bots. It actually pained Blast Off. The rest of the team were present, yet their leader remained missing. Blast Off tried not to let it get to him, he really did. However, he remained hurt all night.
As the evening grew, Blast Off found himself aching from helm to ped and wanted nothing more than to sit down. By this point, it was a handful of Seekers, Brawl and Swindle, and Astrotrain and Blitzwing left. Everyone else had disappeared ages ago, and now Blast Off wanted to as well. He thought about telling Swindle, but the jeep was too engrossed in spinning farfetched storied to the drunk coneheads, so Blast Off simply left the room on his own accord.
He'd barely left the hanging when Thundercracker approached him. The seeker offered an arm and Blast Off gladly accepted. Together, the pair walked, or rather Blast Off hobbled, towards the shared living space of the Combaticons.
"I'm relieved to see that you're alright, Blast Off." Thundercracker had surprised him with that. It's not like they spoke to each other. At most, Blast Off would nod if he saw the Seeker, but that was it.
"Oh, um, thank you, but I have no memory of the incident. What happened?"
"I'm not surprised. You took quite a hit. No one thought you were going to pull through, aside from Onslaught. Anyways, you blew up one of the Autobot's anti-aircraft artillery canons. It was incredibly brave of you. The damned thing was stopping us from supporting our ground troops, none of us could get close without risk of being shot down. I didn't see what caused you to suddenly turn and fly straight at the thing, but as soon as you were close enough, you transformed and fired straight down the barrel. 'Course you got shot in the process. We all thought you were offlined till Vortex appeared, screaming for a medic."
"Wait, Vortex saved me?"
Thundercracker nodded. "Yes. In fact, he dragged you straight to Hook and demanded he help you. Threatened the entire team if they failed to do so. Has no one told you about that?"
"No! No one's told me about any of this."
"Well, it was quite a sight." Thundercracker laughed. "Or, well, it would have been if you weren't practically offlined in Vortex's arms."
"For the record," Thundercracker began as the pair reached the sleeping quarters. "What you did was stupid and reckless, but also very brave. You saved all of us flyers. You have my respect." The blue seeker bent down, bringing one of Blast Off's servos to his lips and gently kissing it.