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It was something Chameleon had said.
"You should make a movie about yourself. Your story's got it all -- espionage, betrayal, sans the Hawaiian shirt, but we can't all be that extraordinary, can we?"
To be honest Thundercracker never thought his life was particularly interesting, and that's what he told Chameleon. He was a dutiful officer, an upright warrior, and an obedient soldier. He was never involved in spec ops, unless you count that one time with the titan hunt, which Thundercracker wouldn't -- it was a miserable experience consisting mostly of empty space and bots with their heads screwed on the wrong way. Infiltration operations were run-of-the-mill, nothing unique to write about and not exactly riveting to dramatize. Except --
-- except the Earth mission.
Action, suspense, intrigue, twists n' turns. Betrayal.
Thundercracker never betrayed anything or anyone, at least from his own point of view. Skywarp says otherwise. It depends on how you define the subject and the word itself, although the standard definition for every Cybertronian resembles something with white wings and a wicked smirk.
"It's not betrayal. My loyalty has simply expired [1]."
He had said something along those lines. Thundercracker wasn't sure what happened prior or afterwards -- eventually everything blended together. The same tune. The same script. Slight variations, the exact same ending.
Thundercracker didn't think about it for a long while afterwards. He had other projects, other stories he was more comfortable telling. He had a new life, on a new planet, and there wasn't one second if it that he didn't love. There were frustrations, sadness, and loss, but he worked his way through them and moved on. It wasn't that he was actively avoiding the past -- he'd found happiness, and everything other than the present moment became less relevant.
---
Someone had to make a movie about U-Day.
From what Thundercracker knew of Earth's culture, this was inevitable. A few popped up about a year after a black hole in the sky became a fact of life. Then there were the documentaries and docuserieses. Thundercracker enjoyed them for what they told from the human perspective, the details and impacts invisible from his vantage in space. But he could never get Marissa to watch any of these, and Skywarp lost all interest after complaining about his role in one of the dramatizations.
"They didn't even give me any lines! And you can barely see me in the background!"
Thundercracker tried to explain that's what Skywarp should've expected when he signed up to be an extra and get painted gray as part of the USAF.
After a couple of decades it looked like any story that can be told about U-Day has been told, from visual media to volumes of memoirs and heavily-researched chronicles. There might've even been a video game or two.
So Thundercracker was a little surprised when an up-and-coming director approached him about making another series.
"An interview? From me?" Thundercracker echoed after the Director made her pitch.
"You were right in the middle of it, as I understand," she said. "It's primary source."
"I don't know if there's any more I can add. Any information I'm privy to is on file and declassified."
The Director shook her head, pink hair bouncing. "I'm not looking for information. I'm looking for stories. Your personal perspective of how things went down, your assessment of the situation, why you did what you did at the time, what's in your head the split-second you made your decisions. As a storyteller yourself, I'm sure you understand."
Thundercracker did understand. It felt strange though, to be on the other side of the conversation.
"And you're asking this from…who else?"
"As many people as I can find. Individual U-Day accounts from the Cybertronian side of things are surprisingly scarce."
"We haven't really been the record-keeping type."
"Understandably, there doesn't seem to be a need for it," the Director tapped the side of her head playfully. "What I wouldn't give to have a memory like yours."
The downside of that, Thundercracker thought to mention, is there are some things you can't forget.
"Why this story?" he asked her. "It's complicated. Messy. Not easy to handle or represent fairly, especially at the scale you're going for. And it's been retold dozens of time."
"Good points," the Director steepled her fingers in front of her chest. Thundercracker could just make out the word "маймуна" on her faded shirt. "Let's start on the easiest one. It's not a retelling. I don't think this is an event that can be exhausted. Billions went through that day. Billions of perspectives, billions of experiences. I'm choosing the ones that both intrigue me, and are missing from or only shallowly told in existing works."
"As to why your experience, and the experience of those beside you at the time, intrigue me--" she let a cheeky smile spread across her face, "--I have to credit your influence."
"A fan?"
"A big fan. You were my introduction to Cybertronian cinema," the Director shuffled to the edge of the sofa. "And more than that. You're the reason I wanted to tell stories.
"I was too late to the party to know what it was like when humanity was first made aware of giant transforming robots, and too young to remember the histories that made our time. I grew up when humans were still figuring out how to live with aliens and be a part of what our small frame of reference considers the entire universe.
"Your stories showed me about Cybertronian life. It made me understand the people I was living among. I watched everything you made, read everything you wrote. And then I dug up your first ever movie."
Thundercracker nearly spat out the energon he was absently sipping. He forced the liquid down his tank. "You don't mean--"
"Starscream."
It was strange, to hear the name again after so long, and in such a neutral -- positive, even -- tone. Thundercracker felt time still for a moment, as if waiting for the devil himself to appear with a malicious grin and a dangerously cordial greeting.
But time went on, the past flowed behind, no ghosts came, and the Director went on.
"-- It was the moment I began to comprehend the weight of Cybertronian history, the complex actors, the paradoxical natures that drove actions good and bad, that fueled and ended a war lasting longer than my species' lifetime. I was absolutely intrigued by a story of choices, motivations, consequences culminating in an emotional and spiritual revelation, of characters that can hurt one another and love one another and suddenly come face to face with themselves [2]."
"It's not --" Thundercracker tried not to cringe, "I mean, it wasn't the real story."
"I know, I make movies too," she laughed. "But the important thing about Starscream was that it showed me what it is to confront the unexpected on the screen and in the life storytellers dramatize and interpret. I'd like to bring more of that into the world. A tribute to the people that made today the way it is, and to the cinema that inspired me."
"I'm going to stick as close as I can to my sources on this one though," she added. "I want to be true to those who are willing to bare their hearts -- sparks -- to me."
Against a faint misgiving, Thundercracker said yes.
---
The interview sessions began a week later. Thundercracker's version of events should be relatively short, if the Director didn't keep inquiring for answers stretching far past the confines of the topic.
"Alpha Trion once said every fragment of a story creates worlds," Thundercracker remarked, not unpleasantly. "But this is a bit extreme, don't you think?"
"Depth," she replied. "And personal curiosity. If you mention the forklift that transported the Talisman I'd ask its backstory too."
She raised her head from her notes. "You don't have to answer them all, you know, especially if it's something you don't want to talk about."
Thundercracker shrugged. "I don't mind. It's interesting to review details I've never really paid thought to."
Skywarp joined in on the project soon after, when he heard that the interview reels would be incorporated into the final work.
"She's putting me on screen! With lines!"
He threw an accusing glare at Thundercracker. "Unlike the picky snob who never gave me a speaking role, or a close-up, or anything that distinguishes me from a road sign."
Thundercracker didn't have the spark to ruin Skywarp's excitement by telling him, again, that 1) Skywarp can't act, and 2) Bob has a better record of following stage directions. So he settled with, "I thought you were fantastic in Top Gun: Viper."
Chameleon's suggestion came back to Thundercracker as he divulged pieces of himself. It was easier, he thought, to tell it to another person, guided by an outside framework, than to narrate the story on his own. The Director had asked him in casual conversation and off the record why he hadn't written anything about U-Day.
"The great Thundercracker, pioneer in Cybertronian cinema, accoladed works spanning action, drama, romance, comedy, everything! And you haven't done anything about the biggest event in the century -- heck, the biggest event in existence, not even a peripherally allegorical version."
Thundercracker's reply was something along the lines of the subject being a bit too close to home.
He wondered what that meant. Was he worried about myopic failings in storytelling? Or was he avoiding something buried within the material?
Eventually they got to the part where Thundercracker joined up with rest of the defense fleet in space, mystical payload latched beneath his fuselage. Everyone's objective was to get him and his cargo onto the physical manifestation of Doom. The fate of worlds rested on him.
He wasn't scared, he told the Director. Not at all.
He was almost ecstatic. He joked. Tried to show off tricks.
He was flying free, with comrades he'd entrusted his life to for millions of years. It was a reunion.
Practiced formation. Crowded skies. Beeline for peril. A dance performed so many times it was second nature.
And taking point, an all-too-familiar fighter in red, white, and blue, fresh insignias gleaming on his wings, weaving through hails of fire without so much as a breath of smoke on his pristine chassis.
Stay with me, Seekers.
In battle, following him had never been wrong.
"Sorry," Thundercracker said when he realized he hadn't said anything for nearly five minutes. "I got a little lost there."
"Do you need a moment?" the Director offered.
"I think I'm good. Where was I?"
"You and your team were heading up against Maximals."
"Oh. Okay." Thundercracker thought for a few seconds before starting again, "I made a mistake -- lost my concentration and didn't dodge a hit, broke formation, and ended up surrounded by enemy forces. I still had the Talisman with me, and it just dawned on me how much trouble I'd gotten myself into."
Starscream? Optimus? He'd called in panic.
He huffed a self-directed scoff. "I swear I used to be a lot more competent than that."
"I was dead. There was no way I could fight them all or escape. But the next second Skywarp was behind me, taking fire and yelling at me to get the Talisman away.
"Optimus and Arcee had landed on Unicron. All they needed was the payload. And despite that -- I couldn't leave Skywarp. We're Seekers. Brothers. And he'd come back for me."
Seekers never leave each other behind.
How long has it been since that creed actually mattered? Not when Starscream shot him in the back after he refused to return. Not when Skywarp blew up his face and stranded him on Earth.
They no longer considered him a Seeker then. He was a traitor.
Stay with me, Seekers. Starscream's voice echoed. Just as the former Decepticon Air Commander had redonned the purple badge, so was Thundercracker endowed his title once more.
Not traitor, not deserter, not defector. Brothers.
It's so great flying with you guys again!
Maybe that was why.
"At least out of the three of us, one had reached Unicron. I threw the Talisman to him and focused on getting Skywarp out of the fray."
Skywarp was supposed to teleport them in. Then they would set the Talisman ticking and skedaddle. Live another day. One final battle, until peace.
He never thought about how they would get the Talisman inside Unicron without Skywarp. Optimus' strength and resolve. Arcee's ferocity and versatility. Starscream's tenacity and guile. One of them was bound to come up with something. And should worse come to worst, Thundercracker retained uncanny confidence in Starscream's penchant for last-second escapes.
"I took him back to Earth before it ended. And…that's pretty much all of my involvement."
He leaned back into his seat, trying not to let a sudden wave of exhaustion show.
"Questions?" said the Director.
Thundercracker nodded.
"Thanks. Let me get the clarifying ones out of the way first," she swiped right left a few times on her tablet. "Your lead, the one carrying Optimus Prime. Who is he? I don't remember you mentioning his name."
Thundercracker's optics flared. He gaped, then stuttered, "I -- I didn't?"
"No, I would've noted a name."
"Huh." He dragged out the response. "I suppose he's so well-known that it didn't occur to me someone wouldn't know who I was talking about."
"Apparently not so famous among humans," the Director frowned.
"Notorious, more like," Thundercracker muttered.
It earned him a curious look. "So, whodunit? Tell me about the guy."
The designation did not come out easy. It had been haunting the back of his processor since the start of the interviews, occupied his thoughts during this session, brought up a jumble of memories painting a contradictory figure who still left Thundercracker plenty to figure out despite four-million-years' acquaintance.
He spoke it, softly, holding back all that it carried.
He never imagined a human's eyes could get so wide.
---
Thundercracker found himself pulling out the dusty takes of his first feature late one night after he'd made up his mind to go into recharge. Rest never came, and one annoying bot consumed his thoughts until he threw himself off the recharge slab and went looking for an outlet.
"I knew he was one of the many downed in the battle. It was never quite clear from Earth sources what happened," the Director had said. "We know Optimus Prime managed to get inside Unicron and disable it with the Talisman, but how exactly that happened and what science was involved --" she shrugged.
What had happened? Thundercracker never directly asked. MIAs were only confirmed KIAs weeks later, and Thundercracker had been sure he would meet Starscream around the corner one of these days until Skywarp dropped the bomb with all the effort of nonchalance.
"Screamer's bit it. Some Autobots saw him flare up with the Talisman."
Skywarp didn't say more, and Thundercracker didn't ask.
Thousands of video files. Hundreds of hours. Most of them were of Acid Storm repeating the same line over and over again until he threw down the script and walked away. Then there was just himself, writer, director, actor. He let the files play out without really taking them in. He wondered where he buried the original script, amended beyond all recognition.
A voice not his own jolted him out of his stupor. Thundercrack nearly fell off his chair.
"…I'm sorry."
He scrambled to rewind the video, spark spinning fast. Red, white, and blue, amber glass and a touch of gold on his helm, a stunningly civilian frame. The spotlight was supposed to be his forte -- but here, he looked uneasy.
"My fellow Cybertronians -- My fellow…"
"That thing’s over an hour long," Marissa said.
Thundercracker looked up towards the Faireborn-designated walkway, hitting pause at the same time. The room suddenly became way too quiet. "Sorry I woke you."
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
Marissa slid down and stood on the desk, taking in the windows on Thundercracker's screen. "Feeling nostalgic?" she asked.
"Not…quite."
Marissa hummed. "Is this about a movie or about a friend?"
Thundercracker snickered. "I don't think he would appreciate me referring to him as 'friend'."
"So is there a reason you're looking at a twenty-year-old recording of the biggest Cybertronian electoral drama at 3 a.m.?"
"I never actually watched this. I thought I could use the material for the movie, but in the end we didn't have the time or money and I needed a more concise denouement and cohesive theme."
"Right. Theme of love and sacrifice and all that. From Starscream."
Thundercracker winced.
"Although," Marissa sat down and crossed her legs, her head tilted towards the frozen Cybertronian on the screen. "I think you had something there. I watched this debate live. Maybe I didn't have Starscream as fully figured as I thought I did, but boy, was it the surprise of the year."
"I thought it was a ploy," Thundercracker said.
Marissa expressed a silent inquiry.
"It wouldn't be the first time he's tried to get out of real trouble with a full confession, and he's had a fine streak of it working. To an extent."
Come a choice between permanent deactivation and --.
Thundercracker shut out the memories. It hadn't been his business to care for a long, long time.
"He didn't always have a plan. But he always gets back up, eventually."
He stared at the bot in the video. For a peculiar moment he felt like he was looking at a total stranger.
"He's a damn good actor if that's the case," said Marissa. "Is that what got you thinking?"
"The subject came up recently. And I realized I needed answers to questions I never knew I had."
Marissa rolled her eyes. "You artistic types."
"There's an artist in everyone," Thundercracker grinned. "You just need the right trigger."
"If my inner artist is going to keep me up all night I'd rather it stay dormant a while longer," Marissa yawned. She looked at the progress bar at the bottom of the video. "Are you going to finish that?"
"I feel like I should."
"Will it help much?"
"I don't know."
"Were you close?" Marissa struck without preamble.
Thundercracker pondered his response. How close can you get to a paranoid enigma of schemes and secrets? Even when you flew with him for millions of years? Even when you followed him into the cause and life that dominated your identity for the majority of your existence? Even when you called him brother?
"I'd like to think we were. At one point."
Marissa didn't follow up. Her gaze stayed on Thundercracker, searching, waiting for a revelation. She found it.
"You're feeling guilty. Why?"
Seekers never leave each other behind.
"He died."
He died and there was nothing of him to remember.
He died and no one missed him.
He died and I left him.
"He died. Before I got to know him."
Marissa stood up and hugged Thundercracker's cockpit.
"TC, you have a vast, vast soul, you know that?"
Thundercracker managed a smile. "Heh. There's your inner artist."
"No it's not. I stole that line [3]."
---
Thundercracker pitched his idea to four humans.
"Whatever you need," was Marissa's reply.
"Hell yes," said the Director.
"Revolution and democracy," said Richard Ruby. "If you're sticking to history again and cutting back the explosions, throw in more of that hoo-ha stuff. People tend to gobble these up."
"I like the new angle," said J.J. Hackensack. "It delves more into that theme of downfall and descent."
Thundercracker wouldn't say Starscream's journey was much of a descent. He wouldn't call it a stroll either. Grasping for the right metaphor, Thundercracker considered that, maybe Starscream's just there, in the dark, at the beginning of it all. There really wasn't anywhere else he could go.
"Personally, I appreciate the original take of love being the cause and end of it all," continued J.J., "but others -- myself included -- have done that a hundred times over. I highly support you trying something new."
"Thanks," said Thundercracker.
"The political intrigue could be fascinating. You should lean into it."
Gathering his notes and suggestions from his friends, Thundercracker approached his producer.
"So it's a history flick," said the Producer partway through Thundercracker's delivery of the rough outline.
"Well, yes."
The Producer leaned back into his chair. "I'll be straight with you, people find history boring. You're gonna need epic battles, inspirational speeches, world-shattering stakes, throw in some consequences that last well into the present. You've got more work when your story's about government yada-yada and when it takes place, what, ten million years ago?"
"No, definitely not that long. More like 20 years ago, with references to a couple million years before that."
The Producer stopped short. "Isn't the main plot about Cybertron's first public election or something?"
"Yes…and the outcome of that election was Starscream."
"Pal, you can't expect me to keep track of Cybertron's history, I barely know my own."
"David, Starscream. He was the one who established the Council of Worlds and signed Earth into it? It wasn't that long ago, even by human standards."
The Producer snapped his fingers. "Oh that guy, the robot with the crown! When you said he was the first democratically elected leader of Cybertron I assumed he was ancient! Christ, it took you people some time to get onto the popular vote bandwagon didn't it?"
Now that Thundercracker thought about it -- yeah, it did take a ridiculously long time. But then, Cybertronian leadership wasn't prone to change on account of everyone living indefinitely.
Maybe Starscream had a point about Megatron.
The Producer rubbed his chin. "That'd look nice as a poster tagline -- the first democracy -- or something, we'll get marketing on it. But you gotta give me something more. Where's the drama, the conflict, the scandal?"
Primus were there scandals, but Thundercracker hesitated to name them. Fraud, extortion, illegal surveillance, secret police, brainwashing, insurgency, treason, cover-ups, the occasional murder…..enough skeletons to fill Buckingham Palace three times over. But if he mentions them he'll get a mini-series all about these illicit dealings rather than the movie he actually wanted.
"Picture this," Thundercracker laid his data-pad down. "A discharged soldier turned street hustler turned radical revolutionary turned militia commander turned second-in-command of a multi-galaxy empire turned defeated-faction pariah turned planet leader, eventually sentenced to life in prison for the dubious things he did while in power, all of which he confessed to live during electoral debate."
The Producer's eyes gleamed. A big, slow grin spread across his face. "Hustler to president, you say?"
"Uh…I guess it can be summarized that way."
"So it's a biopic. About the biggest grifter your side of the universe."
Thundercracker opened his mouth to object, found nothing to object, and nodded reluctantly.
The Producer clapped his hands together. "Next time, my old boy, lead with that!"
---
"If you ask me, it's impossible to write an engaging screenplay with a story spanning the entire life of a person," said Skywarp, looking over Thundercracker's shoulder.
"When did you become an expert?" Thundercracker said, not unkindly.
"I've been around you enough to know the art and the biz. And my experience tells me you're either going to get a rushed, convoluted mess or a four-hour bore no one's going to watch."
"Have you seen Citizen Kane?"
"No. Sounds bo-oring."
Thundercraker swerved around in his chair and gave Skywarp a stony stare.
"What, one of yours?"
"One of Earth's, a monumental piece from nearly a century ago," Thundercracker explained. "If Orson Welles can capture the life of a person with all the ups and downs, joys and sorrows, dreams and regrets that come with it in his debut film in just under 2 hours, what's to say I can't? And at a second attempt at that."
"But Earthlings live, what, one or two hundred years and then they croak. It's not going to work for --" Skywarp gestured at Thundercracker's screen and made a face.
"I don't have to include everything."
"Pfft. Good luck untangling the convoluted quagmire of his life and finding anything that makes sense."
"That's the thing. It doesn't make sense. What he did, why he did what he did, what happened to him….. I want to understand. I want to find the pieces and put them together. See the part of him that I've never seen or knew existed. Who he is, the entirety of it, I would never be able to figure out, and a dozen movies wouldn't be enough to tell a fraction of it. But…..he decided to be better, towards the end, and I owe it to him to see that, and show that."
Skywarp looked steadily at Thundercracker, expression forced into casual boredom. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and said, "TC, you're wacked."
"Some say it's a job requirement. Especially if you want to be one of the best."
"You don't owe him. For all the slag we followed him through he might as well owe us. I don't get why you waste your time and energy digging for -- whatever it is you're trying to find in that rotten, lousy core."
"That's a tad discriminatory, don't you think?"
Skywarp startled, frowned, understood, and punched Thundercracker's arm with barely contained amusement. "I don't mean it that way and you know it."
"Do you think he became the way he is -- was, or was he just made that way? Not that I'm implying mode of construction was a factor at all."
"Unicron spawned him, Unicron claimed him, simple as that," Skywarp huffed.
"Was it so obvious from the start? Or were we idiots?"
Skywarp's mouth slanted sideways in a not entirely genuine display of being nettled. He took a deep in-vent, then ex-vent. "We were freaks who wanted to be more and he was a con who wanted company. He made promises and we made sure he wasn't out on his own. I guess it didn't seem too shabby of an arrangement at the time."
"Arrangement," Thundercracker bit down the word like it was a ball of tin foil. "Was it…just that? Different interests at play, and nothing else?"
Skywarp's optics performed an impressive cartwheel. "What else was there?"
"I don't know," Thundercracker sighed. "We had trust. And when it was a matter of life or death I wouldn't have anyone other than you two by my wings. There was a time we….cared."
Skywarp threw his hands up. "For Primus' sake TC, whenever we covered each other's backs it was for practicality. He had enough brains and good ideas that it just slightly balances out the bad and makes his narcissistic aft worth saving, and he keeps us around because I can poof him out of trouble and you can make loud booms or whatever. We're Decepticons. We don't care, we're not good at caring. We as a faction have a destructive tendency to hurt each other. And you know what, that's absolutely fine. Decepticon warriors are forged from conflict. That's where our strength comes from. The weak slag falls away and there's only the sharpest and most dangerous parts left. The mushy Autobot scrap works for the Autobots but not for the likes of us. Top to bottom -- and the top really -- Decepticons are emotional black holes incapable of receiving, processing, never mind outputting any semblance of affection. If you'd died he wouldn't even bother putting your name on a plaque."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Duh. Like he gives a passing thought to things that aren't useful to him anymore."
"I mean…the part about Decepticons not being able to care."
Skywarp's immediate reply was, to his own surprise, stuck halfway out of his vocalizer. Annoyed by this, he crossed his arms again and scowled with insouciant derision, "Yeah."
"You came back for me."
It took Skywarp a few seconds to catch on to what Thundercracker was referring to. "Arcee told me to. You had the world-saving thingamajig, of course we weren't going to leave you."
"Oh."
"But we're not Decepticons anymore," Skywarp said in the same uncaring tone, suddenly interested in a cloud passing by the window.
And that, Thundercracker realized with a hop in his spark, was as much of a confession out of Skywarp as he was ever going to get.
At least until Earth mellows him up a bit more. This planet has a tendency to do that. Must be something with the atmosphere.
---
There was a hollow pit in Thundercracker's tanks, when he revisited his notes and realized the majority of bots he had interviewed for the first movie aren't around anymore.
A few decades ago, he would have been completely indifferent. People die, it was a fact of war.
Unicron was war. It shouldn't affect him any differently.
But Thundercracker himself was different. So he allowed himself a moment, staring at the wall of names at the memorial.
To be a Decepticon was to not mourn, and to not be mourned. Drive, brutality, conquest and victory, no matter the cost.
Was it any good? They'd set out to right all the wrongs in the world, hadn't they? Or was it just an excuse for murderers, sadists, psychopaths, and egomaniacs, all out for themselves?
A different bunch of guys wanting to tell guys like us what to do, Dirge had said.
He wished Megatron was still here, so he could shake him and ask what it was all for.
Galaxies left in ruins, billions of lives wasted. Thundercracker couldn't claim ignorance, much less innocence. He had followed Starscream to the top of Decepticon command, and carried out orders even when his conscience screamed at him.
He had believed in strength and honor. He had revered Megatron. He had admired Starscream -- for his skill, wit, determination, and unrelenting dedication to the Decepticon cause. Somewhere along the way, it all became delusions.
"You make it sound like he went to war against the Cybertronian government, fought on thousands of planets, and put up with, you know --" Thundercracker raised his right arm, elbow straight, fist clenched, as if something big and heavy was attached -- "just so he doesn't have to be by himself."
Skywarp shrugged. "His brand of self-serving and pettiness go a hell of a long way. And I'm pretty sure it turned into a revenge fantasy some two million years ago."
"You still think that's all there is to the Decepticons?"
"Everyone has slight variations -- get away from trouble, find something to do, stick it up to the Senate and Functionists -- but it all boils down to the same thing."
"That couldn't have been enough to get people to stay for as long as they did."
"Sure, so the DJD was the added incentive. And some just liked the power trip."
"What about justice and equality and all that?"
"TC, you're one of the most naïve people with a spinning spark, and even you don't believe that slag. As far as I know, Soundwave was the only one who was idealistic and bonkers enough to stick to it."
"Mr. Thundercracker?"
Thundercracker snapped out of his recollections and looked down at a young woman with short, auburn hair. She was standing rather close, entirely undaunted by Thundercracker's stature. Thundercracker, on the other hand, had a millisecond panic attack at the very real prospect that he could have squashed her and not even felt it.
"My name is Alexis, I work at the embassy, I'm a friend of Bumblebee's," she said brightly, and stuck out a hand in formal greeting.
"Uh, hello. Nice to meet you." Thundercracker crouched down and presented a finger. Alexis shook it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"I regret to inform you that Bumblebee will not be able to meet with you at the agreed-upon time. He has asked me deliver the news and an apology on his behalf."
"It's okay. I understand diplomatic work is important." Thundercracker tried to cover his disappointment with a smile. "Did he say when we can reschedule?"
"He said he will be in touch with you shortly. He also welcomes you to drop by and grab a drink after work hours, though he strongly suggests the subject that you have arranged the meeting for not be brought up."
"That's not like Bee," Thundercracker let his thought slip before he could stop himself.
"It's not," said Alexis, her voice lowered enigmatically. "But I trust Bumblebee to explain, in due time."
Thundercracker left the Cybertronian embassy grounds utterly flummoxed. He briefly wondered if they still use diplomats for espionage. It was a neat idea for a movie, a different kind of spy from Chuckles.
"Four million years…what did we accomplish?"
"A space station, and Cybertron, if that counts. But then the oh glorious Chosen One did ditch the faction affiliation when it was convenient, and the planet's gone now, so -- a space station, and zilch."
If Skywarp was right, the Decepticons left no legacy to honor, no monument to mourn. Only regrets, to be forgotten.
"He had the badge. In the last battle."
"If you gotta fight, might as well fight under something and have bots to call your own. Even if these bots are spawns of glitches."
Thundercracker circled around the memorial one last time, and made for home.
---
"My shift isn't supposed to end until another three hours. And I definitely shouldn't be having one of these right now." Blast Off downed his can of energex before Thundercracker had even cracked open his. "You've been doing fine for yourself. Power, money, all intact."
"Oh no. No no. I just have friends and artistic dispensation. Turns out a lot of people like the idea of their name at the end of a movie. And if you ask nicely enough, they're okay with saying yes to reasonable requests."
"I also have you to thank for this opportunity," Thundercracker handed another can to Blast Off. The empty one was drifting away from the tiny asteroid they had designated park bench. "Your probation officer wouldn't be so quick to agree if he didn't have a good opinion of you."
"Good opinion. You mean he thinks I'm a dumb drone with no capacity for trouble."
Thundercracker grimaced. "More like, he thinks you're working hard to make up for past transgressions and change your behavior for the better?"
Metal crumpled in Blast Off's fist. For a serious second Thundercracker thought he was going to lash out -- battle protocols came online instinctively. Then the Combaticon, former pride of the Decepticon elite, deflated like a punctured balloon, and Thundercracker had the strange sense that he was looking at a dilapidated statue instead of a living Cybertronian.
"Are you…okay?"
Blast Off reached for the entire case of energex Thundercracker had brought from Earth. "This is all pointless. Nothing will ever make up for what I did. And no amount of carting rocks is going to change me in any way."
Thundercracker wasn't sure what to say. So he offered the thing that had helped him. "Stay on Earth for a while, after…after this. It's an incredible planet, with incredible things. It influences you, in a good way."
Blast Off made no response. Another empty can. "What do you want with me? I don't recall gloating being much of your style. Or did Starscream rub off more than I realized?"
"I'm here about him, actually. You and the Combaticons were his bodyguards before his indictment."
Blast Off leveled him a hard, inscrutable look. "Bodyguard. Wherever did you get that?"
"It's what the judicial reports said..…"
"Did your reports also make note of how we never agreed to work for him?"
"There were mentions….."
"And that we'd very much rather tear him limb from limb?"
"…That's generally the default attitude towards him."
"How he played us for suckers and then dragged us all down with him?"
Thundercracker tapped the tips of his digits together and looked down.
Blast Off threw a contemptuous glance towards Thundercracker, as if he had been complicit. "This shouldn't be much of a surprise to you."
"I guess not," Thundercracker sighed.
"So? What more can I tell you?"
"I was thinking that maybe he'd changed during that time back on Cybertron."
Blast Off froze. Then seemed to become genuinely concerned. "Are your circuits fried or something? Him? Change? Whatever can he change into? He was a monster through and through. The glitch delighted in it for Primus' sake. Having ultimate authority over Cybertron just made it easier for him to be monstrous any way he liked. He set up Swindle and shot him clear through. He sent his enforcers after us, and not just us -- bots who still openly wore the Decepticon brand, bots who weren't happy with his rule, bots who he didn't like. We were scraping by for money of all things, our dignity in the dirt, thankful that we weren't dead. If he had gotten his way we would be in scrap dumps, relegated to a past forgotten for his brave new world."
"I know. It's just -- he had what that he wanted, and he threw it all away."
A strange look brushed over Blast Off's unmasked face. He wiped it off and turned away from Thundercracker. "Sure, Starscream had his kingdom, but it certainly wasn't the paradise he'd imagined."
"What do you mean?"
Blast Off said nothing. Then, as if it had always been the topic, "Have you ever paid attention to how he gets people on his side?"
"No, not really."
"Of course not," Blast Off muttered. He paused for a bit, and continued, "He comes in with an offer, spins a tale of common interests, makes you think he needs you more than you have use for him. Before you know it he's got the upper hand and what you thought was a negotiation becomes a coercion. He finds out and then pretends to give you what you want, nudges his way in, always the two-sided deal -- do as he wants and reap the rewards, or suffer whatever vengeance that twisted mind of his contrives.
"Even when it all falls apart for him in the end -- You see him fail, bounce back, fail again, and fly high, so many times you have to question whether failure is simply a part of his current scheme. He knows this and uses it to his advantage -- the best part of being Starscream -- if there's any good in being him.
"And it works. It works too Primus-damned well. So much so you can even convince yourself that, with all his machinations against you, there could only have been one outcome. After all, I wasn't the only bot to shake on his deal," Blast Off buried his head in his arms. "Dead Autobots. Dead Decepticons. Countless other idiots.
"But the truth is, he never had control. He threats because he's threatened. He blackmails because he can't win loyalty. He negotiates and coerces, because he can never demand. He may be the Chosen One, Ruler of Cybertron, but the planet doesn't bow to his will.
"So I'm the biggest moron of the millennia, for seeing this when it's all very useless," Blast Off concluded, and raised a toast to the dim universe.
"It's been quite a millennia, don't be so sure," Thundercracker said softly.
"Of course, I'm better than the dolts who followed that glitch of a commander for the last four million years."
"Yeah."
"I don't get you Seekers. He never needed to exercise any tact on you."
"I don't get us either."
They sat in silence for a while. There was one last question.
"Blast Off, why did you join the Decepticons?"
Blast Off guzzled down the last can of energex. "Because Onslaught did."
He stopped. "And because fighting for a belief was worth more than fighting for money."
---
"I really appreciate you giving me the time of the day," Thundercracker said as he brought over the drinks and snacks. It was the least he could do for the First Delegate sparing him two hours for an interview.
Somehow, he didn't have the same concern when it came to Starscream's time. Not when Starscream was ruling the planet, not when he was Air Commander or Second-in-Command. It wasn't that he expected Starscream to be doing less work than what Windblade has on her hands, it was more of -- well, he's known Starscream since before he was busy, and the habit never died.
"Thank you," Windblade smiled as she received her glass. "Don't worry about it, I needed a break. And your message was..…intriguing. I'm afraid I have yet to see the first rendition of your work. It was quite hard to find, though I have requested a friend at the embassy to procure --"
"There's no need to see it," Thundercracker said in a rush. "It's, uh --" he tried not think about the lines he wrote for "Windblade" -- "it's not one of my best."
"I see. And this current project is an attempt to rectify that?"
"No -- Maybe. If it weren't for me he'd probably still be alive. It never occurred to me he'd actually be dead -- I'm used to him coming back no matter what."
"You're mourning for him?"
From anyone else, the question would be rhetorical. From Windblade, it was gentle and compassionate.
Thundercracker mulled over the question. "No, not in the usual sense. He's not someone you mourn for. I want to understand, the parts of him that I never saw, and leave something of him to remember -- something real and true and unobscured."
Windblade looked like she was trying to comprehend, although she wasn't quite there yet. "To be honest, it was somewhat unfathomable at first, that you would seek to tell a story about -- I wouldn't say 'villain', but he was far from a hero. Stories, for me, have always been to commend or to caution. It doesn't seem like you'll be doing either."
"It's kind of an Earth tradition. They like their protagonists with some dirt."
Windblade hummed. "I think I see the appeal, and the benefit. It tells that heroes may not be perfect, and that sometimes those who…..have less admirable qualities can do great good. Starscream certainly taught me that."
"You don't have an abjectly horrible opinion of him," Thundercracker noted with surprise.
"There's much of him and his history that I don't know, and never witnessed. I can understand the grudges against him, and maybe if I had been subject to similar harms -- similar harms to ever severe degrees -- I would have an entirely different attitude. But with what I have witnessed -- I hold goodwill, and some appreciation towards him, for the times he looked out for me, and for his courage."
Thundercracker stared. "What….happened?"
Windblade tapped her glass, thinking, not of what to divulge, but how to start. "Have you spoken to Bumblebee yet?"
"I wanted to, but Bee didn't really seem inclined to touch on the subject."
Windblade frowned. "That doesn't sound like Bumblebee."
"That's what I said! I had considered, maybe Starscream and Bee got really close during the time Bee was running Cybertron, and that affected Starscream a lot -- I mean, Bee's the kind to turn the universe's worst tyrant into an Autobot, but all accounts I have of that time point to it being very unlikely."
Windblade fiddled with her cocktail straw. "One might say Bumblebee was Starscream's conscience."
"….How come?"
Windblade tapped the table this time, twirled the straw some more, opened her mouth and closed it again, and finally, when she did speak, it was to ask, "You've known Starscream most of his life, correct?"
"Yes. That's not saying much though."
"But you were closer to him than most people?"
"Close only in the Starscream sense. Which is about a planet and a moon away."
"Did he use to confide in you?"
Thundercracker nearly spat his drink out. "Sorry," he choked. "Choice of word -- caught me off guard. If by 'confide' you mean 'divulge treasonous schemes so I can aide and abet,' then yeah, he does that."
A notion -- a flash of memory -- crossed Thundercracker's mind. He suddenly realized what Windblade was getting at.
"There's the other kind of confiding though. A more…honest kind, if the word can be applied. Where he's off by himself sulking or ranting to no one in particular, and barely tolerates me being there to see it."
"Did he use to do it a lot?"
"There was a point when intra-factional relationships were becoming….bad. Really bad. After that, I think he either figured out how to vent in more contained ways, or kept it to himself. It wasn't pleasant to see him like that."
Voice-box fritzing, hissing as much from anger as from pain. Rage masking fear, fear overshadowing disappointment.
If Starscream's motivation for joining the Decepticons was to get away from people who were mad at him, he failed spectacularly by running headlong into the epitome of fury. And staying.
Thundercracker wouldn't have stayed, not for a dozen DJDs at his back, not for all the thrones in the universe.
But Starscream was….he was Starscream, and he and Megatron fed into each other. There was revenge, too, and a heavy splash of insanity.
Partially carried away in his own head, he thought he had misheard Windblade. "Excuse me?"
"Starscream had been talking to an incorporeal Bumblebee that he thought was a hallucination."
Thundercracker gaped. "Please elaborate?"
So Windblade did, to the best of her knowledge, from what she saw -- the one-bot arguments, the fake comm calls, and what Bumblebee told her much, much later.
"It's just like him to think he's delirious and pretend everything is okay," Thundercracker had a palm over his optics. "For Primus' sake, he was running the planet half-crazy."
"It was partially our responsibility too, for not interfering despite knowing something was wrong," Windblade sighed.
"You couldn't have done anything anyway. It'd take the end of the universe for him to even admit he was seeing things, much less accept help. I have so much to ask Bee right now."
"I would imagine."
"Three years living with a shoulder angel….is that what changed him?"
"The most I can say is, Bumblebee had a degree of effect. Starscream can be obstinate, and there were patterns that he stuck to, or couldn't unlearn. But even the hardest metals can be smithed," a complicated tranquility brushed over Windblade's expression. "And he really had wanted to do right by his world."
Thundercracker thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I know he can be defensive about things he considers his --"
His conquest. His world. His Seekers. His Decepticons.
"-- so to give it up…."
Windblade nudged aside her empty glass. "If the world came crashing down, which way do you imagine he would run?"
"Well, now I know he'll be running towards the crashing down."
"Were you surprised?"
"No," Thundercracker said slowly. "Not really."
"Why?"
"If the world ended, he's not making it through. He would always rather have some say in how fate chooses to handle him than wait for things to come and happen to him."
Even if it was stupid. Even if it was self-destructive. Even if it was provoking aggression to invite defeat.
"That was one reason, then," said Windblade.
"It's the only reason I can think of. That all of his secrets were coming out anyway. But it's not really enough, not for the way he did it."
Windblade looked away from Thundercracker, focus drifting. Once or twice, she seemed ready to say something, only to return to her deliberations. Finally, she shook her head and met Thundercracker's optics. "Starscream found out what he really wanted."
"Not Cybertron? Power? Recognition?"
"The usual," Windblade replied. "But so much more. And so much simpler."
Thundercracker willed his curiosity to urge Windblade on. She only smiled and said, "Call it belonging. Call it actualization. It's a lot of things, beyond expression. I suppose you have to see it. But fundamentally, it was something from within, relieved of slag, bright and true."
She met Thundercracker's optics, cerulean sharp and limpid. "That's what you're looking for, isn't it?"
---
"You're late," the Director greeted Thundercracker with a big grin, "to your own premiere, no less."
"I had to see a friend, he works in space." Thundercracker quickly adjusted his plating. His armor had shifted to rapidly cool his frame down to an acceptable indoor level.
"You came all the way from Jupiter?"
"No, Ceres."
"The little ball of asteroid mining HQs?"
"Yes, that one."
"Cool. Still pretty far though. Something happen?"
"Mr. Thundercracker, Ms. Nakadai, this way please," an attendant gestured them towards the theatre entrance.
"No. I try to go at least twice a month, to spend some time with my friend," Thundercracker nodded a "thank you" to the staff.
"You should've invited him today. Or you did and he's not a fan?"
"You could say that. But, uh, he's not actually allowed to leave…" Thundercracker's voice trailed off as the darkness of the screening room engulfed them. The Director's follow-up was buried in the polite silence of the audience.
[Where've you been?] Skywarp commed when Thundercracker seated himself next to him. [This thing started almost ten minutes ago. I've had reporters and weird people come up to me thinking I'm you or -- that guy you have playing Starscream.]
[Nacelle?]
[That's his name? Wherever did he pop up from?]
[Trypticon. He's quite young.]
[Figures. No one else with half a brain module would be willing to be that glitch, even for a movie.]
Thundercracker threw an unenthused look at Skywarp that was wholly lost as the projection screen brightened.
Starscream, his back to the audience, emerged onto the debate stage.
"My fellow Cybertronians…."
---
"What kind of story starts at the end? Where's the suspense in that? How is the audience suppose to cheer for a hero that they know is going to lose? And how dare he end with me losing?"
"You were okay with the ending in the last one," said Bumblebee.
"No I wasn't."
"Right. You weren't."
"Kill him for me, will you?"
"You know I can't do that."
Starscream pouted and crossed his arms. "Some friend you are. This is blatant slander, defamation of the worst degree, my legacy is being systematically tarnished!"
Bumblebee smiled a half-sincere smile of apology, "If you had let me talk to him…."
"And have you sell my secrets and private life to that quack?!"
"Hey, 'quack' is taking it too far," Bumblebee paused the movie. "Thundercracker's improved immensely since Last Laugh, and even since Midday in Trypticon. Fall of Titans has four Emmys in its first season, Transformers: the Animated Series broke viewership records and even got its own theme park ride, Flint and Steel won two Golden Globes, and now he's signed off with Nautica to adapt the Lost Light memoirs. Not to mention the Academy Award nominated One Above."
Starscream groaned. "I hate that movie."
"It speaks to my spark!" Bumblebee hopped up.
"Exactly. You get sad and refuse to eat every time you watch it. Why do you do this to yourself?"
"I like to be emotionally shaken by heartfelt stories about deep and genuine relationships."
Starscream's face twisted in disdain. "That movie was about a dog."
"Which made it all the sadder!" Bumblebee laid his hands over his spark. "It was based on a true story. I think that's when Thundercracker's works really became art. He learned how to put pieces of himself into his stories."
"Why are you an expert in this?"
"I'm a diplomat. His movies have been great at introducing Earth to Cybertronian culture and improving interplanetary relations. Credit to you for that idea."
Starscream emitted a humph, but the compliment obviously hit.
"So," Bumblebee plopped back into his seat. "Wanna continue watching your movie together? We have three more hours until we reenter the Solar System."