Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should be dead.

There was no way on this Primus-forsaken planet he shouldn’t currently be in the well of All Sparks, or, more likely, the Pit. But he wasn’t in either.

Starscream looked around the black void he had woken up in. Megatron had finally grown tired of his constant treason and had shot him in the chest with his fusion cannon before carelessly tossing his former second out of the Nemesis. Starscream had offlined. He knows he did. So, where was he?

The jet attempted to take a step forward, but there seemed to be no gravity in the void, so he just ended up flailing in place. He attempted to transform but found himself unable to. Great. So even if there was an exit, he wouldn’t be able to reach it.

Starscream wasn’t sure how long he had been floating when there was finally a shift in scenery. Dark purple cracks splintered through the void to form a cruel face. An odious grin spread across its features and an ominous shiver creeped up his back.

“What do you want?” Starscream demanded, desperately trying to hide the nervous shake in his voice.

“I am here to offer you a gift,” the face said, its voice cold and ancient.

“A gift?” he responded skeptically, wings rising in apprehension.

“Yes,” the face hissed before melting away. For a moment, Starscream allowed himself to relax at the absence of the other being but was unfortunately forced to raise his guard when his surroundings once again changed.

He stumbled for a moment, awkwardly trying to regain his balance as gravity returned, before taking in his surroundings. He stood in a lavish throne room. The walls were polished and white with lilac drapes covering the windows. A carpet of the same color led up to a black throne that was artfully decorated with glowing purple cracks. Starscream began to take a step forward before freezing in place. This was a trap. It had to be a trap.

Starscream spun on his heel, ready to make a hasty exit, but once again froze in place. In front of him stood a full length mirror with a twisting purple and gold frame. He stared at his reflection in shock. Any and all signs of damage that Megatron had done to him were gone. Instead, a lilac cape hung off his shoulders, serving to highlight his flawless finish, but what really caught his optics was the shimmering black and purple-cracked crown that sat atop his helm.

“What do you think?” a voice asked from directly behind him.

Starscream spun around, null rays raised in defense, only for there to be no one. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the room before lowering his arms and turning back around. What greeted him in the mirror almost made him jump out of his frame. While his appearance in the reflection remained the same as it was before, there was now a towering figure made of purple shadows and smoke standing behind him.

“What do you think?” it asked again, snaking its gelid servos up his back to rest on his shoulders.

“It’s. . . nice,” he responded warily.

“Just nice?” the figure pressed.

Obviously it was more than nice, but like the Pit was going to let this thing know that. Things were only offered if someone wanted something from you. Especially if said offer was a throne and a crown.

The figure leaned down so that their heads were level. “I think you look exactly as you were meant to.”

A wave of calm washed over the jet, and he tilted his helm to the side. He had always known he would be able to pull off a crown exceptionally well. The reflection in the mirror did absolutely nothing to dispute this theory.

“Who are you?” Starscream asked, his voice slurred and, in a rare moment, quiet.    

 
The apparition chuckled. “Most of your kind were forged burning hot by the Allspark. Those sparks' first experience is the soft touch of Primus. But you weren’t among those, now, were you?”

Starscream’s brow creased, his eyes distant. “How do you know?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that without a connection to my brother, I can grant your spark’s desire.”

“Your. . . brother. . .?” The pieces of the puzzle finally flew together in Starscream’s mind, causing him to snap out of the bizarre trance he had been placed under. The room around him shattered, returning him to the dark void.

“Unicron,” he spat.

The figure of shadows and smoke reformed before him before taking a bow.

“You’re a fool if you thought for a moment that I’d make a deal with you.” Starscream awkwardly managed to turn himself around, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up proudly.

“Not even for Megatron’s head on a pike?”

Starscream looked over his shoulder. “Come again?”

Unicron waved his hand, spinning the jet back around to face him. “Your resurrection and revenge in exchange for doing my bidding. Doesn’t that seem like a fair trade?”  

“For someone who knows so much about me you’re awfully eager for my ‘allegiance’,” he questioned.

“You are a coward, Starscream. We both know how much you value your self-preservation. There is a very big difference between betraying Megatron and betraying me.”

Starscream dug his claws into his arms as he thought. On one servo, there was no way making a deal with the Unmaker would end well for him. There were more stories then he could count warning against this exact thing. It would be beyond foolish to even consider taking the offer. He wasn’t an idiot, after all.

But on the other servo: what did he have to lose? He was dead, that he knew for certain. And here was an opportunity to continue on. It would be foolish not to take this chance. Besides, Unicron was right, there was a very big difference between betraying Megatron and betraying the Unmaker. If he played his cards right, neither would be a problem. Afterall, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

He slowly uncrossed his arms before looking the figure in the optics. “All right,” he said. “We have a deal.”

Starscream onlined again; broken body splayed across the ground. He attempted to move a leg, only for it to fling up like a puppet on a string before snapping back into place with a noise similar to branches breaking. The rest of his limbs followed suit, ending with his head finally rolling back into position after he sat up.

The jet took a shaky step forward before taking in his surroundings. He was in a small meadow, barely big enough to fit his body and thoroughly destroyed by the crash. In the distance, there was a still lake that seemed surprisingly unaffected by what had happened barely a few steps away.

Starscream stumbled over and examined his reflection in the water. Death had most certainly changed his appearance. The hole Megatron had blown in him had been patched and the crimson and sky blue of his paint job had been changed to a purplish-red and indigo respectively. His heels and claws had somehow gotten sharper and the vents on his helm had sharpened into horn-like points. But most glaringly obvious of all to him was that his red optics had changed to a bright purple.

He smirked at his reflection. He would like to see how his fearless former leader handled himself with a god against him. Starscream had a revenge plan to plot.  
   

 

Chapter Text

The day had actually been going fairly well. It hadn’t been perfect by any means, but it was fine. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a cool breeze wove through the air.

But, of course, all good things had to come to an end.

Optimus had been enjoying a nice, relaxing drive through the backroads with Bumblebee when Ratchet had commed him. <We have a report of a Cybertronian crash landing not far from your location. Could you take a detour to check it out?>

<Anyone we know?> Bumblebee asked.

<Cameras weren’t close enough to make any identification.>

<We’ll take a look>, Optimus assured.

The truck and the bug changed course to the coordinates Ratchet had sent them.

“Think it’s a con?” the smaller of the two asked.

“Maybe. But we mustn't rule out the possibility of an ally.”

The two of them arrived a few minutes later to discover that there had indeed been a crash. In the middle of a glade that was just big enough to be mistaken for a meadow, the ground had been overturned and an unlucky tree had been crushed on impact. Leading away from the crash site were markings that implied that whoever had crashed had been able to get up and drag themself away. Optimus and Bumblebee slowly drove forward, following the tracks through the trees to a lake, where a bot was admiring their reflection in the water. 

Optimus allowed himself to feel the risky feeling of hope as he quietly transformed into his bipedal mode. They looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place them in his mind as any potential enemy he knew of. The bot was a jet frame, which was normally cause for alarm, but Optimus noted that their white wings did not bear the Decepticon emblem.

He took a step forward, causing the jet’s wings to perk up and turn to face him. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment before a big grin broke out across their face.  

“Well, if it isn’t Primus’s little lapdog.”

Optimus raised his hands in surrender. It didn’t exactly surprise him that the Seeker was hostile towards him. There was a reason so many had followed Megatron when the war broke out. “We mean no harm. We heard about your crash and came to offer assistance. In times like these we can always use a new friend. What is your designation?” 

“You mean you don’t recognize me?” The Seeker brought a hand up to their chest in imitation of hurt. “After all the battles we fought? Were the rumors true that you only had eyes for Megatron?” A scowl cut across their features at the continued blank stare. “Are you ground-bound idiots so dense that a new paint job renders a flight frame unrecognizable to you?”

Bumblebee, who had remained quiet until now, suddenly transformed and jumped protectively in front of his leader. “Starscream,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

The Prime slowly took in the information as his hopes for a new ally were dashed across the ground. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it seemed obvious who the Seeker was. Maybe Ratchet was right and he did need to spend less nights worrying about his comrades instead of recharging.

“You. . . look different,” he said, trying to justify himself.

“Do you like it?” Starscream asked, spinning around. “I think it goes well with my new path in life.”

“Which is?” Bumblebee asked.
Starscream opened his mouth as if to respond but paused and tilted his helm to the side. After a moment he frowned and muttered something that sounded like ‘I am not saying that’, which was shortly followed by an eyeroll and a ‘fine’.

He cleared his vocal components, spread his arms, and took a single step forward. “You see, Prime,” he began. “The organics on this planet have a saying. It goes that light cannot exist without darkness to accompany it.” Starscream began to approach the Autobots. “I have simply been reforged to fit that maxim.”

Bumblebee lunged forward, but the former Decepticon grabbed him by the arm, twisting it before tossing the bug into a tree. Every instinct in Optimus’s body screamed at him to go and help his friend, but he found that he just couldn’t look away from the jet’s purple optics. Despite only omitting a faint glow, they drew him in, his trance-like state allowing his enemy to approach. He dragged a claw along his windshield, causing a crack to appear. Starscream smirked up at him, and when he spoke, there was another voice layered on top of his own. “I can’t wait to kill you.”

Starscream placed his servo on the Prime’s chest, right above where the Matrix was hidden. He dug his claws into the plating with the intent to tear it away, exposing his spark. A series of voices in the back of Optimus’s processor screamed at him to move, to fight back.

However, before he could act, Starscream’s optics widened and he wrenched his servo back, clutching it to his chest as he emitted an unholy shriek.

And then the traitorous jet was gone.

Optimus shook himself out of his transfixed state and immediately rushed to his friend’s side. “Bumblebee, are you alright?” He helped the little yellow car to his feet. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s alright,” he responded, wincing. “He caught me off guard too.”

Optimus frowned behind his mask. <Ratchet, I need you to prepare the med-bay for Bee.>

<What did he do this time?>

<It– was my fault. I’ll explain when we get back.> He turned back toward his injured companion. “Is it safe for you to drive?”

Bumblebee nodded before transforming. Optimus released a concerned sigh before he joined him, and the two Autobots took off back to base. Guilt weighed down on the Prime as he drove. What in Primus’ name had happened back there? Had he been so embarrassed by his mistake that he hadn’t registered that his friend might be in serious pain? That he hadn’t realised that the enemy right in front of him was making an attempt on his life?

When they arrived at base, Ratchet was already ready to greet them with a characteristic frown on his face. “I take it the Cybertronian in the reports was a ‘con.”

Optimus reluctantly nodded as he helped the yellow car onto the examination berth. “He injured Bee pretty badly.”

The ambulance eyed the scratches on his leader’s chest. “You look pretty banged up yourself. What exactly happened?”

The truck hung his head in shame, glancing at his hurt Paison. “Starscream caught us off guard. I wasn’t able to protect him.”

Ratchet snorted. “Starscream did this?”

“He’s the SIC of the Decepticons for a reason,” Bumblebee interjected. “We just forget that he’s still dangerous because of how ridiculously pathetic he is.” 

“We didn’t recognize him,” Optimus added. “He changed his appearance.”

“And his voice wasn’t an obvious enough identifier?”

The memory of their encounter played in Optimus’ head. The Seeker’s screechy voice should have been a big indicator, but it had seemed different. It had still been unpleasantly high pitched and nasally, but there had been a slight, almost unnoticeable echo to it that had later given way to a far deeper, older voice being layered on top of it.

Do you like it? I think it goes well with my new path in life.

I have simply been reforged to fit that maxim.  

 
Then there were his wings. Optimus remembered noting the distinct lack of the Decepticon emblem. Had Megatron finally kicked him to the curb? It seemed unlikely given what the tyrant had put up with in the past, but not impossible. Was the new look part of some bizarre rebrand after getting kicked out?    

Optimus hadn’t met Starscream when he had been a part of the initial revolution that eventually gave way to the Decepticons, but he remembered some of the stories he had heard about Megatron’s ‘hand of death’. How he had inveagled his way into Sentinel Prime’s inner circle, only to brutally assassinate him in his recharge and drop his corpse on top of a mid-speech senator in the middle of a live broadcasted meeting.

If Starscream had gone rogue, then he was now a separate threat to Megatron. He wasn’t as predictable now that he had no one’s orders to adhere to but his own. He didn’t know how the Seeker’s processor worked, but he did know someone who might.

Optimus slipped out of the med bay while Ratchet fussed over Bumblebee. He walked down the halls of the Ark, thankful to not run into any of his soldiers at the moment. There was no doubt in his mind that they would either worry about his wounds (it was his job to worry about them) or find it absolutely hysterical that he hadn’t been able to beat the jet who had once been taken down by a random serpens ex machina being thrown in his face.

He arrived at the lab, cautiously sliding open the door. Wheeljack was elsewhere for once, but a big white shuttle was settled at a lab bench, observing what appeared to be a sapling. Skyfire looked up when he heard someone enter and awkwardly smiled.

“Hello Prime,” he said. “I was just–.” His optics widened as they landed on the scratches across his leader’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Skyfire,” he insisted. “I just need to ask you something. You and Starscream were close, correct?”  

Skyfire’s facial expression hardened. “The jet I was friends with was a kind-sparked scientist. As far as I’m concerned, he was killed by the Decepticons’ second-in-command.”

Optimus dipped his head. “I understand. Believe me, I do. I only asked because he seems to have remodeled himself after a surprising departure from the Decepticons. I simply wondered if you had any insight into his psychology.”

The shuttle shook his head. “Anything I knew about him would be outdated.” His large hands curled into fists on top of the counter. “Any insight I could provide would imply that he wouldn’t shoot me.”

Guilt stirred in Optimus’ spark for bringing up what must be a painful memory for the gentle scientist. He apologized and quietly left the room, going back to resuming his duties.

Logic told him he shouldn’t be worried. It was only one rogue bot, after all. But there was a nagging in the Matrix that insisted that this was a bigger problem than it appeared. 

The cavern Unicron had led him to was disappointingly simple for the place he was going to concoct his grand revenge plan. In one corner there was a pile of rocks and in another there was what could only be described as a purple spring. The pool broiled with bubbles and faintly glowing, sickly steam seeping through its surface. The only use he could see it providing was as a place to keep prisoners.

Redecorating could wait. He had more important matters to attend to. His brush with death had left him hungry and tired. Starscream tilted his head to the side. “You wouldn’t happen to know the location of any energon mines, would you?”

Unicron chuckled, his tone sly and menacing. “That will no longer be necessary. With me as your patron you will awake each recharge cycle with full tanks.” 

“I still need a place to recharge.”

The shadows on the wall seemed to gesture to the pool of purple liquid in the corner. The jet wrinkled his nose. “You expect me to sleep in that?”

“Do you want to rest or not?”

Starscream scowled, reluctantly approaching the pool and cautiously lowering his right pede into the liquid. Upon the assurance that his frame wouldn’t melt in a horrific way, he proceeded to ease the rest of himself into the substance that he now could recognize had a similar consistency to energon. As more of his body was consumed, a wave of calm, similar to what he had felt in the throne room, enveloped his mind. Starscream leaned back, lowering his head beneath the surface, before opening his mouth and allowing the liquid to rush in. It wasn’t long after that he was in deep recharge.

Chapter Text

Soundwave lurked in the shadows of the command bridge. As always, observing. Ravage impatiently paced at his pedes. He knew that his cassette had begun to have doubts about the cause, or at least the participants of it. He needed to steer her back onto the loyal path. They all knew what Megatron did to traitors.

Speaking of traitors, even though it had been a little over an Earth-month since the spat that most of the troops had bet money would never come to pass, their leader had yet to promote anyone to the SIC position. Invariably insisting on finding physical evidence of a demise despite the impossibility of anyone surviving a fusion cannon directly to the spark. So far Soundwave had been filling the role, as third in command the duties logically fell to him, but Skywarp was insistent about it being her promotion to an annoying degree. 

“Soundwave!” Megatron barked, pulling the cassette-player back to reality after he had been lost in thought. “Report.”

“Possible energon: located.”

“Excellent job.”

From across the bridge, Skywarp glared at him, a thousand thoughts of her laughing over his mangled chassis as their leader patted her on the back, telling her she did a good job. The truth was, if the purple and black Seeker hadn’t been so immature, Soundwave wouldn’t have had a problem with her taking on the role of SIC. She was ruthless and undyingly loyal, two things that the Decepticon High Command was supposed to be.

“Soundwave, Skywarp! Organize a raid before the Autobots catch wind and become a problem!”

Soundwave stood up straighter. “Autobots: spotted nearby. Suggestion: Lord Megatron accompanies the party to kill Optimus Prime.”

A dark look crossed over his face. “Prime is present?”

The intelligence officer nodded and a menacing smile overtook his leader’s face. “Well then, this day just keeps getting better and better.”  

Bumblebee, Optimus, and Elita-1 drove toward the energon mine the pink car had managed to locate. It was in the middle of the woods, where there were no roads, so their tires crushed grass and leaves beneath them. They began to slow, transforming before they had fully stopped.

Elita stepped out in front of the group and examined their surroundings. “No enemy bots in sight.”

The Prime stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.” She responded with a curt nod before leading her companions to where a cave was hidden, tucked away amongst the trees. The cave’s opening stretched open like a gaping mouth, stalagmites reaching to grasp at each other like sharp, crooked teeth.
“You’re sure there’s energon in here?” Bumblebee asked, attempting to keep the uneasiness he felt out of his voice. However, it seemed Optimus had heard him, as he shot the scout with a sympathetic look.
“That’s what I detected,” Elita said. “Admittedly the signatures were slightly off, but it was too close to energon for it to be anything Earth-made.”
The trio continued deeper into the cave, forcing them to turn on their headlights as the darkness grew around them. Optimus must have once again taken notice of Bumblebee’s growing unease, because after a concerned expression in his direction, he once again turned to his second. “How much further do we have to go, Elita?”

It was then that the little yellow bug noticed the frown that had subtly begun to grow across her face. “I don’t know,” she carefully admitted. It seemed that the pure dread this cave was made of finally seemed to be affecting her as well. The walls seemed to close in around them, waiting to pounce so they could bury and suffocate the trio despite their lack of need for air.

“For the rest of time,” a voice behind them rasped. They whipped around to see a large grey figure emerge from the shadows and into the spotlight that their headlights cast. Two pairs of red eyes flanking him and one purple pair hovering above him.

“Megatron,” Optimus greeted disdainfully. “What are you doing here?”

The tyrannical leader smirked. “To kill you, Prime. You have been a thorn in my side for far too long. It is time I took my chance to end you.”

Elita-1 stepped in front of her leader, pulling a sword from subspace. “If you think that you’re more delusional than usual. Do not think that you can win just because you outnumber us by a single bot. We both know how incompetent your troops are.”

The pair of eyes to the left of the warlord stepped forward into the light, revealing the purple and black frame of Skywarp. “How dare you assume that my Lord would need to outnumber you to win!”

“Skywarp!” Megatron barked, causing the Seeker to slink back. His red eyes drifted over the Autobot trio. “Kill the yellow one.”

A manic grin spread across her face, and she leapt forward, reaching out a servo to grab Bumblebee’s horn. Luckily, Elita had managed to shove the bug out of the way before landing a kick on the purple jet, causing her to fly back. Skywarp twisted in the air and her head immediately snapped up, her attention now having completely shifted to the Autobot SIC as she lunged again.

Bumblebee turned his gaze toward where Optimus Prime was effortlessly batting away a very frustrated appearing Ravage. It would have been comical, if Bee had not seen the looming figure of the Decepticon leader sneaking up behind him, fusion cannon at the ready. He opened his mouth to call out to someone, Elita or Optimus, even though he doubted there was time for either of them to notice what was happening in time to stop it, even if he alerted them.

But it seemed that it wasn’t necessary, because the next thing the small yellow car knew, a winged bot came flying out of the shadows from the roof of the cave where they had been perched and slammed into the warlord, causing him to miss the shot by mere centimeters.

Skywarp and Ravage had stopped fighting entirely, too busy staring in shock and disbelief at their former air commander. Their optics wide and mouths agape as if they were seeing a ghost. Bumblebee couldn’t say he wasn’t mildly surprised himself. He had expected the Seeker to have died from energon deficiency at this point.

However, the look on Megatron’s face was anything but surprised. At most he appeared annoyed.     

 
“Ah, there you are,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder where you had run off to. Here to beg forgiveness, I presume?”

“Hardly.”

Megatron’s eyes narrowed. “I take it that you’re still corrupted by the notion that you can do a better job of leading than I can?” 

Starscream scoffed. “Oh, please, you’re entirely too stupid to lead.”

“You wouldn’t recognize stupid if it hit you in the face.”
“You have. Multiple times.”

Megatron glowered at him. “Do you really think that they will let you join them?” he mocked, gesturing to where Elita was firmly pinning Skywarp to the ground. “You chose your side when I recruited you.”

An idea sparked in Bumblebee’s processor. Megatron was distracted. He quietly retracted his servos and released his blades. Between Starscream and Optimus, who was awkwardly holding onto a thrashing Ravage, the warlord likely wouldn’t notice him. Just one pede in front of the other.

Maybe he should have just offered to take the cassette from Optimus. He was bigger than Ravage, albeit not by much. Too late now. He was so close to the hulking grey form. Would his meager blades ever make a scratch? Already the yellow car could feel the ghost of large servos crushing the sides of his head.

But as he became closer and closer to him, he realized that Megatron was far too distracted with the two bots he hated the most. He was never going to notice him until it was too late. And he was right. Megatron didn’t notice him. Skywarp did.

“Lord Megatron! Behind you!” The purple and black Seeker finally managed to shove Elita off of her, and activated her warp drive, disappearing in a flash of purple light and reappearing in front of Bumblebee, sending him backward with a well-placed kick.

While this had prevented Bee from striking, it had caused Megatron to make the fatal mistake of turning his back to Starscream, who promptly blasted him in the chest with his null ray. This, to the surprise of no one, didn’t cause any actual damage to him. However, it did catch Megatron off guard, causing the monumental warlord to fall backwards, crushing Skywarp beneath him. Megatron growled as he pushed himself to his feet before throwing himself at his former second, who expertly dodged, causing the tyrant to barrel into Prime instead, who dropped the squirming Ravage on impact. The cat-shaped cassette went flying through the air and landed on Elita’s helm, scratching her as she attempted to gain a firm footing. Optimus managed to slip out of the large grey potentate’s grip, unsheathing his axe before diving once more into battle.

Bumblebee looked around the cavern, searching for something he could do to help. Searching through the battle that was only lit by two pairs of constantly moving headlights. Skywarp was no longer an active threat, and Elita was dealing with Ravage in a fight that looked like it belonged in one of the human’s slapstick cartoons. He had no doubt that he would just get in the way if he tried to assist his leader, so that was off the table.

At last his gaze landed on Starscream. The red and white Seeker seemed frozen in place, unable to even turn his head away from where Megatron was clashing with Optimus, muttering what sounded like ‘we need to wait’ and ‘too dangerous now’.

The Decepticon leader raised his fusion cannon and aimed at the Prime’s helm. Optimus slammed his arm against it, turning the muzzle away from him and redirecting the blast toward the unmoving jet.

In the end, Bumblebee wasn’t sure why he did it. Maybe it had been an enemy-of-my-enemy situation. Perhaps it was just instinct at this point to push a bot out the way of an oncoming blast. Possibly he had thought that saving someone would make Optimus proud of him. Either way, he ended up tackling Starscream away from the blast, allowing it to hit the wall and causing several loose rocks to jolt loose and separate the two of them from the rest of the fight.

Bumblebee immediately pushed himself to his feet. “Why the Pit didn’t you move out of the way?” he snapped.

Starscream winced as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his arm. “The Unmaker was toying with me.”

The smaller of the two rolled his optics. There wasn’t any need to be so dramatic. “You could at least thank me for saving you.”

The jet widened his optics, clasped his servos together, and flit his wings. “Oh, thank you so much for saving me, you brave and stupid. . .” A pause. “Autocrat.”

Bumblebee glared. “You don’t know my name, do you?”

Starscream gave him a disinterested shrug. “I always just referred to you as the yellow annoying one.”

The ‘yellow annoying one’ scowled. “My name is–”

“I don’t care, Goldenrod,” he said in a blase manner. “I truly do not care.”

He huffed in response, stomping over to the wall of rocks that separated them from the fight. Worry grew in his spark. Were Optimus and Elita all right? He began to tug on one of the stones. Maybe if he removed one the rest would come loose?

“That’s not going to work,” Starscream snarked in a sing-song voice.

If he could remove one rock maybe he could throw it at him.

“What? And you’re an expert on rocks now?” Bumblebee responded.

The former air-commander leaned back on one servo and lifted the other so he could examine his claws, in the process revealing a thick crack in his plating. “Not on rocks, no. My degree was in astrophysics and biochem,” the Seeker responded, his bragging tone slipping in through the nonchalant depiction he was trying to project. “But you could say that I know these tunnels, yes.”

Starscream pulled a large bundle of lavender fabric from his subspace and tore off a corner. It wasn’t until he was stuffing the fabric in the crack to block further bleeding that Bumblebee noticed that his energon was a deep violet in color. Now, he wasn’t a medic, but there was no way that was normal. It almost made him tempted to ask if anything was wrong. Almost. What did he care if the embodiment of arrogant garbage died from some weird, purple fuel-line infection?

“So, you know the way out of these tunnels?” he asked instead.

“Of course.”

Bumblebee straightened his back. “Take me to the exit,” he demanded.

Starscream laughed. “And why would I do that?”

“I saved you. You owe me.”

The Seeker paused for a moment before pushing himself to his pedes. “Fine.”

Bumblebee startled. “Wait. Really?”

He gave him an unimpressed look. “If I simply head towards the exit, you’ll just follow me. If I kill you, I’ll become a target for any vengeful Autobots that have taken a liking to you. Besides, I would really rather not be in debt to such a weakling.”

Before the yellow car could come up with a retort, Starscream was already walking away. He ran to catch up with him and Bumblebee briefly wondered how the Seeker could see down here without headlights. How long had he been navigating these tunnels? They wove in sharp twisting angles that doubled back and broke apart more like a maze than anything made by nature.

The journey was mostly in silence until he couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

“So. . .,” he began awkwardly. “What’s with the new look?”

“I told you. I have been reformatted for my new purpose.”

“And the stilettos make you a more effective villain, how, exactly?”

The jet grinned. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

The image of one of those heels ripping through his chassis flashed through Bumblebee’s processor. “No.” He would like to die with a little more dignity than by the screeching backstabber.

The cave was once again filled with a silence that was only broken by the sound of footfalls.

“Why did you save me?” Starscream asked.

Bumblebee grappled for an answer. “Optimus Prime would not have let a neutral be killed like that. I just try to follow his example.

“Neutral? I’ll have you know that I am no less a Decepticon than I was before.”

The smaller of the two snorted. “That’s not what it looked like back there.”

Starscream released an offended squawk before crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air with a pompous huff. Real mature.

“So, what? You saved me to make your leader proud?” Starscream asked the question as if Bumblebee had told him that he liked to sleep in dumpsters.

“Of course,” he responded.  

“You don’t have to prove yourself to him. If they don’t appreciate you, that's their problem.”

“I don’t need to prove myself,” he snapped. “I’m just making sure he knows that the trust he gives me is well placed.”

The jet seemed to find this concept highly amusing, letting himself cackle joyously and looking back at Bee as if he expected the yellow bot to be pleased his joke had landed. Starscream’s smile faded when he saw the expression on his face and he quickly attempted to cover up the noise by clearing his vocal components. 

 
Bumblebee made fists with his hands and counted down from ten. What would Optimus do in this situation? All the yellow car knew was that he was in a cave with an annoying neutral who hated Megatron. His leader would say that if they were an enemy of the Decepticons, they were a potential ally. The jet also hadn’t killed the Prime when he had the chance, instead choosing to run away, leaving them both with only some dents and scratches. He hated Starscream. But he might have intel.

“You know, the Prime hates Megatron, too.”

Starscream stared at him for a moment before walking forward slightly quicker.

“He would be dead a lot sooner if we teamed up!” he called after him.

“I already have a perfectly good partnership going on, thank you.”

Before Bumblebee would question him about this supposed ‘partnership’, they arrived at the mouth of a cave. The outside looked different from where he had entered, but it appeared to still be part of the same forest. In fact, it must have been fairly close to the other opening because Optimus was waiting for him there. The scout ran forward, and he and his leader embraced.

“Let me guess,” a shrill voice behind him asked. “They retreated.”

The two Autobots looked to see Starscream was still present, leaning against the cave’s mouth while still remaining in the shadow it cast. Optimus glanced between the bug and the jet. “Did you lead him out?” he asked the Seeker.

Starscream waved him off. “Obviously he’s too dim to have found his way out by himself. Just remember this if I come calling for any favors.”

Bumblebee turned to his leader and shook his head. He could have gotten out on his own. Eventually. 

“Oh, and Goldenrod.” Bumblebee turned around to face him. “Remember to take care of yourself.”

And then he was gone.

“He was within your sights! Why did you let him live?”

“His scout saved me. I was simply evening the score.” Starscream would never admit it aloud, but it had been kind of nice to have someone else to talk to after being alone with Unicron for a month. The yellow one had been surprisingly pleasant company.

Or maybe he was just going stir-crazy.

He delicately draped the lavender cloth over where he had made a makeshift throne out of the pile of rocks. “Besides, you saw what happened last time.” He stepped back to examine the placement before adjusting it. “We need a new plan.”

Going straight for the spark had proved ineffective. It was possible that something about his new connection to Unicron was causing the Matrix to repel him. Yes, a new approach was definitely necessary, but what method should he take? Shooting the Prime from afar would seem the most obvious, but he had landed a few hits on him in the past, and he didn’t even seem to have noticed them, let alone suffered any mortal wounds. Of course, Starscream had always been partial to poisons. Slow, painful, and caused very little risk to himself. The only problem was getting close enough to spike that self-righteous glitch’s energon.

“I could trick those soft-sparked fools into letting me into their base. It shouldn’t be that hard, what with my ‘desertion’ and assisting that little twerp.”

The shadows on the wall grew, surrounding the jet in absolute darkness, until they were licking at his pedes like the tongues of an angry viper. “And give you a chance to betray me?”

Starscream scoffed despite the feeling that resembled a spark stopping in his chest. “I thought we established that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to try something like that, my lord. One would think you were going senile.”

It was as if time had frozen around him. Everything had gone quiet and still; as if the very concept of sound had been removed from the world.      

“Perhaps it is time I remind you to whom you truly owe your life.”

Everything tilted and Starscream felt himself falling backward into a frigid body of water. He flailed desperately, his processor screaming that he couldn’t let himself sink to the bottom, but the consistency of the water grew thicker until it was like tar. No. Like servos. It was as if one giant hand was weighing down on his chest, pushing him down. 

“Who you belong to.” 

Chapter Text

Starscream crashed onto the ground, the powdery sand of the Cybertronian wilderness crunching beneath his weight. The heat of the sun beat down on him on what was probably the hottest day he had experienced before landing on Earth.

“Are you alright?” a pleasantly deep voice asked.

The jet pushed himself onto his pedes and scowled, brushing the particles away from his hinges. Primus knew what a pain it would be to clean them out without help. “I’m fine,” he said, the words flowing out into the air without him willing them. “My thrusters short circuited.”

Starscream’s head turned without his permission to where a large white shuttle stood over him with a concerned expression. Skyfire. He tried to force himself to lunge and scrape those stupid faceplates off, but his frame only shifted awkwardly.

“I think I’ve seen you before,” the stupid traitor continued. “You’re in my astrophysics class, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Starscream heard himself respond, dumbfounded. “You like it?”

“Yeah!” he responded enthusiastically. “I mean, it’s only my minor, I’m majoring in xenobotony and xenobiology. Did you know that on most planets, plants are made of an organic fiber instead of metal? It’s fascinating, really. They eat sunlight, too. I really hope I can learn more about how that works. Maybe a plant from one planet won’t react well with the sun of another planet? I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out!”

Panic and rage filled his processor as he felt his spark overflow with fondness. No! he thought. Kill him now, you idiot! This will only lead to sparkbreak!

Past-him nervously interrupted his future enemy’s endless rambling. “Your name is Jetfire, right?”

No! Fly you fool!

“Skyfire,” the shuttle corrected. “And you’re U1-K72, right?”

The two began to walk out of the wilderness together. “I’ve been thinking about finding a name that isn’t my serial designation.”

“Uh, found anything you like?”

“I was thinking Silver Viper,” Past-Starscream responded, waving a servo dramatically. “It’s fierce, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” the large bot said, disappointed. “You’re a military scientist, aren’t you?”

Past-Starscream narrowed his optics at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Skyfire put his servos up in defense. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made assumptions! Just, military scientists tend to be focused on destruction rather than finding the truth.”

The jet glared, his pride flaring up like a supernova. “That doesn’t make it lesser. I’ve discovered more than you have while waiting for a permission slip. I’m the one who figured out how to successfully turn fusion particles into weaponry.”

“I’m just saying that I personally think it’s better to try and communicate with the stars instead of just screaming at them while waving around explosives like a mad-mech.”

Starscream frowned internally as his past self quickly stomped away. Life certainly would have been easier if that had been their only interaction. But of course Primus had been cruel and had them assigned to a project together. The project that had ended with Starscream ‘convincing’ the dean to allow Skyfire to stay at the Academy. He wondered if the shuttle still didn’t know that the ‘little talk’ he had had with her was him simply revealing all the dirt he had scraped up on her.

The ground abruptly shifted, and everything blurred as it whirled around. Tall, white walls came into focus as Starscream’s world slowed down to a normal rate. The air was pleasantly cool, automatically making this a far better memory than the previous one.

“Ah, there you are.”

Starscream turned to see the blue and orange figure of Sentinel Prime approaching him. He scowled internally.

“Do you need me for something, sir?” his past-self asked, manipulating his voice to that of a caricature of innocence. The future jet winced. Primus, he had been laying it on thick.

“I am simply looking for good conversation,” the Prime said in a tone that came across as lighthearted to an untrained eye. “The Decepticons might actually be becoming a threat.” He laughed like the very statement was inconceivable.

Meanwhile, standing across from him, the gears in past-Starscream’s processor were turning. “I have heard rumors,” he began carefully. “Of senators going missing. Senator Shockwave, I believe, was the name of one of them. It’s strange, he publicly showed support for reform.” 

Starscream allowed a smidge of panic to build within Sentinel before continuing. “I can’t imagine how these so-called revolutionaries can be so nonsensical as to go after someone who could have found compromise.”

The jet watched from his past-self’s optics as Sentinel visibly relaxed, happy that he wouldn’t have to kill another employee. Especially one he actually liked. It had taken the longest time to craft a mask that would allow him to get close to the Prime, but it had ended up being fairly simple. Sentinel Prime wanted to be worshipped like a god. Not necessarily feared, but certainly intimidating. All Starscream really had to do was put on the performance of someone who was simply honored to be in his presence.

“It isn’t sensical,” Sentinel responded. “Nothing about this so-called revolution is.”

“Still,” the assassin insisted, carefully rearranging his features into something that would read as embarrassment. “I worry for your safety, sir.”

The blue bot chuckled and waved his servo dismissively. “I doubt anything will befall me. But if it calms your silly little helm I will allow you to guard me while I recharge.”

Relief washed over Starscream as he dropped to the ground, kowtowing. This time he allowed his true emotions to be visible, knowing that Sentinel would interpret his relief as worries for him being soothed instead of happily confirmed. “It would be my honor,” his past-self said in a voice that made Starscream cringe. There was certainly no doubt that he had gotten better at this over the years.

Sentinel, however, seemed absolutely taken in by the lackluster performance. He simply smirked in amusement before plucking the Seeker off the ground with his Matrix-endowed strength and height. The Prime swiftly tapped the jet’s nose (causing present-Starscream to momentarily forget his immobility and try to bite that stupid blue servo off) before turning heel and exiting the room. The world began to spin the moment he was gone.

When everything finally stilled, he was trapped in a cramped Autobot cell, his arms, legs, and wings chained to the wall behind him. Dread filled his tanks. He remembered this day.

The door to his prison stood open and Megatron walked in, his facial expression one of pure fury. Starscream felt his shoulders sag in relief, causing him to internally shriek.

“Lord Megatron, sir,” he said. “I’m so happy to see y–”

A fist smashed into the wall just left of his face, scraping the side of his helm. The wall was made of stone instead of metal, so instead of denting, the part that had been hit crumbled under the warlord’s fist. Small bits of stone went flying and scratched off thin lines of carefully applied paint.

Starscream just hung there, frozen in shock.

“Do you know,” Megatron began. “How humiliating it is for your second in command to get captured?”

The Seeker hung his head, slipping on his leader’s favorite mask with instinctual ease. “I do not, my lord. But I promise that upon my release I will make it up to you ten fold. I killed a Prime before. I can do it again.”

Starscream felt like wincing as he heard the words spilling from his younger self’s mouth. He distinctly remembered the strategy he had been utilizing. Remind the target of your past accomplishments so they remembered your usefulness, and therefore, kept you online. Unfortunately, this had been the wrong offer to make.
Megatron grabbed him by the throat and tugged him forward, straining the jet’s limbs against the restraints. “No one,” he growled. “Kills Optimus Prime but me.”
Past-Starscream merely whimpered from the pain of being in his grip before letting out a surprised gasp of relief when the warlord let him go. 

Megatron began to walk out of the cell, but stopped at the door. “We have taken this base. So, as I see it, there is nothing to stop me from leaving you in here just a little bit longer.”

Everything snapped back to the present like a switch had been flipped. Starscream was back in the tunnels. He turned his head around frantically, trying to take in as much as he could.

He found himself trapped in vines of purple crystal that had emerged from the spring, leaving only his helm and one arm free. Starscream, as always, fought against his binds. Even as the shadowy smoke of Unicron took form in front of him. 

“I am aware enough to admit where I have made fault. You may not be one of Primus’s children, but you are designed to be like one. It was too much to expect of you to follow me with complete and total cooperation. Especially since I know your nature.” A smokey servo gave his captive a demeaning pat on the helm. “It was a mistake on my part to expect a conscious champion, like my brother has.”

Starscream struggled more in his hold, causing the Unmaker to laugh. He swung out his one free hand, even though he knew it would ultimately accomplish nothing, and the apparition caught it. Unicron examined the claws that had just attempted to swipe through him with bitter amusement.

“When my brother defeated me, he bound me to this planet. I was there when you and your friend stopped by the first time.” Starscream stopped trying to pull his hand back from his tormentor and stared at him in surprise. “I remember recognizing you as cut off from Primus. There was a connection, but it was far, far weaker than your friend’s. What a happy coincidence that it should be you who was the first of your kind to fall near my prison.”

“Then you know how horrendous it is to be trapped,” Starscream hissed.

“You killed a Prime,” he said, continuing to ignore his follower. “I can’t lie and say I’m not impressed.”

“Of course you’re impressed! Now release me!”

The crystals melted back into crystal form and Starscream collapsed into the puddle, cursing under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet. Primus, he needed to find a way out of this.

“I have a gift for you.”

Starscream paused.

Unicron held out his servos, where a crown formed before him. It wasn’t the crown from the throne room Unicron had shown him; tall and strong. This crown was a circlet made of black metal that stuck up occasionally like four sharp fangs, a purple jewel sitting on each tooth.

Starscream kneeled before the shadow and allowed it to place the delicate diadem onto his head, where he melded to his helm with the odd sensation of rain trickling through his plating and into his processor. The rain weaved and dodged his cunning, dramatic personality and intellect. But it seeped into formerly well protected crevasses that housed his apostasy and resentment for the Unmaker and warped it into something that Starscream hadn’t possessed in a long time.

Loyalty.

The jet rose to his pedes, dazed, with the shadowy figure holding him steady. Starscream’s optics stared out at nothing as Unicron pulled him into an embrace, his new puppet hanging limp like a ragdoll in his arms. “My child, there is only one thing left you must do to prove your devotion.”
The Seeker hummed in response. It would be a joor before he came back to himself.  

“ Give me your wings .”

“My wings?” Starscream felt dread roll around in his spark and Unicron’s control flickered like a trick candle in a hurricane. “I would be far more useful with my wings.”

“I’ll make you a new pair,” he responded, the evil voice softening into a parody of empathy. “A new set of wings, far better than the ones on your back.”
Starscream nodded and pulled away. The jet began to walk over to his throne with the grace of someone high on engex. He grabbed one of the stones and held it above his head, hesitating for only a moment before bringing it down on his wings. 

Back at the Ark, Bumblebee sat in the medbay for repairs while the Autobot HC interrogated him about the failed excursion. Optimus Prime and Elita had already given their report, which of course only left the member of the trio who had gotten separated from the rest of the team.  

“Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” Optimus asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“I’m good,” Bumblebee insisted. “He threatened me a couple times, but he didn’t try anything.” Looking back, the yellow bug wondered if the threats were more of a twisted kind of formality than anything the Seeker had actually been considering. “He was kind of weird, though,” Bumblebee amended.

Prowl and Elita glanced at each other. Jazz leaned his elbows on a nearby table; hands folded in front of his face plate. “I assume you mean weirder than normal?” the sabatour asked.

He nodded. “He seemed almost– lonely. I’m not how long he’s been down there.” Bumblebee contemplated for a moment before turning to where Ratchet was looking him over. “I think he might be suffering from an energon infection, though. He had a cut on his arm, and it was bleeding purple.”

“Purple?” Ratchet snorted. “Energon infection doesn’t cause color change. It was either a trick of the light or you might be suffering processor damage.”

Prowl, Jazz and Elita seemed to be satisfied with this conclusion, but Optimus looked disturbed. His joints had stiffened and his optics paled as he remembered the last encounter he had with Starscream. How he had been frozen, captivated by uncanny optics. How the Seeker had gone for his spark, poised to kill, but had torn his servo away in pain when his claws had gotten a little too close to the Matrix.

“Optimus?” Elita asked, concern evident in her voice. “Are you all right?”

He recalled his archivist days, sorting through and translating texts, some as ancient as the Quintesson's rule. One in particular had spoken of a theory created by a Praxian philosopher who had speculated that if Primus was able to choose who became a Prime, then it stood to reason that Unicron, who had near-equal power, should be able to choose a champion of his own. A sort of anti-Prime. He had written it off as simple alarmism at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“We only ended up separated because he wouldn’t move out of the way of that fusion cannon blast,” Bumblebee continued.

“It was probably a trap of some kind,” Prowl scoffed. “You’re lucky you didn’t get hit.”

“Yeah. He was super dodgy about the whole thing when I asked him about it, too.”

The Prime cleared his vocalizer and shifted awkwardly. “What exactly did he say?”

The small car kicked his pedes a little bit and tilted his helm back. “I think his exact words were ‘the Unmaker was goofing’ or something like that. I wasn’t paying much attention.” Bumblebee dipped his head in shame. “Sorry.”

Optimus slumped down onto an empty medical berth. No. No no no no no. Nope. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t dealing with this.

“Optimus Prime,” Elita said, tone dancing between authority and concern. “If something is troubling you, we deserve to know.”

He bowed his head. “Yes. You are right.” He took a deep breath. “I believe, based on an abundance of evidence, that Starscream has become a servant of Unicron.”

The room fell into suffocating silence under the weight of words as heavy as one hundred mountains.

Jazz awkwardly laughed but was silenced by a glare from Prowl.

“But why not Megatron?” Elita asked, finally attempting to cut through the tension. “He’s bigger, stronger, and already your nemesis.”

The Prime shook his head. “I do not pretend to know the inner workings of the Unmaker’s mind. What I do know is that if Starscream truly has allied himself with pure evil, we must consider him to be the bigger threat.”

Jazz whistled. “Never thought I’d live to hear the day that was said with a straight face.”
         

Chapter Text

Optimus paced in his quarters, electricity coursing through his servos, but he was afraid to let them shake. Unicron. The age old nightmare that was only spoken of in whispers as a synonym for evil.

A knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. He turned around in time to see Elita enter the room with two cubes of engex. She leaned a shoulder against the doorway and held a cube out for him to take. “Figured you might need it,” she said.

The Prime smiled gratefully at her and accepted the engex, retracting his mask and taking a careful sip. He was stressed out of his processor, but that was no reason to neglect pacing himself. He wanted to calm his nerves, not become blackout drunk in his faction’s time of need.

His conjunx sat down on his berth, gesturing for him to join her, which he gladly did. They sat in silence for a while. Simply happy to soak up each other's company, as in times of war you never knew if your current moment would be your last. Especially now.

Optimus looked over at the beautiful car that sat next to him. His love for her overwhelmed his spark, forcing it to drown in adoration. He would die to protect her and any one of his comrades. His only regret at such a decision would be that he couldn’t protect them from any events that occurred afterwards.   

“Do you think that Primus should have granted you the Matrix?” he asked, breaking the quiet. “You’re better at this genre of situation.”

Elita-1 snorted in response. “I am better than you,” she agreed. “But I think that’s why the Matrix chose you and not me.” The car looked over at him and placed a servo on his shoulder. “You only focus on what is best for everyone. I am always prepared to make the tough decisions; to leave someone behind. You could never do that. The thought wouldn’t even cross your mind.” She stood up. “I’m far too jaded for your optimism.”

“Your optics glitter like jade,” he blurted.

Elita smirked. “And yours are like sapphires, my love.” She kissed him on the top of his helm before walking away and leaving him alone. 

Megatron sat on his throne, an expression that managed to balance right on the line between contemplative and brooding was painted across his facial plates.
Skywarp scowled as she watched her leader. Was that stupid nerd really that important to the Decepticon cause? She was way more loyal than Screamer could ever hope to be! Sure, maybe most of the crew found her pranks annoying, but what else was she supposed to do with the ability to teleport? It simply wasn’t a gift that belonged only on the battlefield.

Regular Cybertronian curse words didn’t fully encompass her disgust for the former SIC. What was that really offensive organic word? Ah, yes. Butthead. Starscream was a butthead.

Slipstream slid up beside her. “Still mad about not getting that promotion?”

“It should be mine. Primus knows I deserve it.”

The turquoise jet snorted. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like Starscream.”

Skywarp glared at her.

“Not beating the allegations there, ‘Warp.”

She sighed. “I just don’t get it! Why would Lord Megatron keep Backstabby McTraitor around? I would never push him out a window, or poison his energon, or whatever that thing with the weird organic creatures was.”

“You mean the bunnies?”

“Yeah! Those!”

Slipstream leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “Let me know if you ever figure it out. I wanted that promotion, too.”

Skywarp grinned manically. “Well, you’ll just have to fight me for it.”

Slipstream looked over the other jet. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

The purple and black Seeker pulled a face that she meant to look intimidating, but really only made her look ridiculous. “And just what would you do with that kind of power, oh fearless leader?”

Slipstream smirked. “Win the war.”

Skywarp pouted and began to stomp away like a petulant child, nearly kicking Ravage in the process. “I’m gonna go drop a glitter bomb on Knockout or something,” she muttered.

The old warlord watched as his soldiers mingled and talked amongst themselves. Some discussions were about petty things, like Airachnid ordering an Incecticon to vomit inside of Knockout’s polish container. But quite a few were those questioning his decision to not promote someone new as his right-hand, but to instead insist on locating Starscream, and dragging him back, kicking and shrieking if need be.

Megatron knew that his troops would question his choice when he announced it. He had been called foolish by his most loyal followers for continuing to trust the deceitful Seeker. But they, of course, were wrong. He never trusted Starscream. He wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t trusted him back when he truly had been loyal.
Starscream had come before him at one of his rallies, unfledged and idealistic, presenting him with a large fusion blaster that he had built and designed himself, begging to be allowed to fight for the cause. But the warlord had noticed that behind those starstruck optics, maybe willingly buried deep or perhaps forcibly stomped down, there lurked a burning ambition. Megatron had wasted no time molding the young scientist into a perfect example of a Decepticon. The Seeker was fresh off the loss of a friend, melting him into a soft metal that begged to be forged anew into something stronger. It wasn’t long until he had a sharp dagger in his servo; double-edged but eager to please.

What the troops could not understand was all the effort he had put into his conniving second. He had spent too much of his time online tolerating the jet’s, admittedly amusing, antics. Starscream would betray him again and again, yet would never disobey.

Besides, Megatron thought, laughing to himself, it’s not like he could kill him.      

Chapter Text

Skyfire awkwardly followed the speeding forms of Elita-1 and Arcee across the frozen desert. His alt-mode wasn’t designed for speed over short distances and would attract too much attention, so the large Cybertronian was left to attempt to keep pace with a car and a motorcycle. He would have gone alone, but Red Alert and Prowl had insisted that no bot was currently allowed to leave base on their own at the moment.

“If Unicron really is back,” Prowl had said. “We need to take extra security precautions. No exceptions.”

The news still didn’t sit right with the shuttle. Not only had the Unmaker returned, but he had, for whatever reason, chosen that blasted Seeker as his herald. The Starscream he had known, the one who prevented bots from stepping on bugs because they were good for the environment, had loved Cybertron. Sure, he had always been a bit of a glitch, but not full-on laughing maniacally over a deactivated frame. Okay, maybe his laugh had always sounded a little evil, but that wasn’t the point!

Skyfire shook his helm. He needed to stop thinking like that. Starscream was dead and a wicked creature was running around wearing his frame.

<Hey, Big-guy, you okay back there?>

<I’m fine, Arcee.>

There was a moment of silence over the comm line.

<I’m insulted that you think you can lie to me, but we’ll talk later. I want to see baby seals.>

Skyfire’s comm was suddenly flooded with pictures of ocelots, giraffes, puppies, and eagle chicks. Arcee always requested to accompany the shuttle whenever one of his scientific expeditions involved one of the many organic species that occupied this planet. Although, her interests were less in the knowledge they could obtain and more on how cute these animals were.

<To answer the inevitable question: no we can not bring one back with us,> interrupted Elita.

<I assumed, but it’s always worth checking.>

<Arcee, the answer is always going to be no. A seal is not a pet.>

<Humans are allowed to have pets.>

<Which is a fact you dislike, judging by that human bar you destroyed last week.>

<They were forcing dogs to fight each other! It was no better than the gladiatorial pits in Kaon.>

Skyfire had only been with the Autobots for so long, but Arcee’s past as a gladiator was no secret. He tended to avoid conflict whenever he could, at most preferring to act as transport for the others, but from what he had heard, the motorcycle could be a nightmare for the enemy in battle. Despite her brazen personality, it was hard for him to reconcile that image with the one of the same bot cuddling a rhino like a domesticated house cat.

The two vehicles slowed to a stop before transforming into their bipedal forms. Several meters away, a small den was hidden by the snow. Skyfire routinely checked on the arctic seal that lived inside and had discovered that she was pregnant about nine decacycles ago. According to what he had been able to learn about the creatures from the natives, seals typically gave birth nine to eleven ‘months’. After some calculations, he had determined that the Terran mammal would have emerged by now.

Arcee carefully crouched down behind the cave and waited in silence. Elita stood off to the side, arms crossed, but with a patient expression. Fortunately, it was only a few breems before the white, furry blob eased her way out of the den, followed by her pup. A smile spread across Arcee’s face.

The pup looked up at her and made a small, friendly noise that Skyfire’s auditals almost didn’t pick up. It opened its little mouth again, but any noise it made or was going to make was drowned out by the sound of an explosion in the distance.

Arcee scowled before reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the seal family and transforming. Elita followed suit and took off after the motorcycle that was speeding toward a tall pillar of smoke that had begun to form in the arctic sky. The shuttle, unable to take off in his vehicle mode without disturbing the seals or the icecaps, relegated himself to once again stumbling after his two friends.

Unfortunately, in his haste, Skyfire had forgotten the impact of his weight, causing a layer of ice to crack beneath him. His fuel tank reached up to his spark as he plummeted before everything was brought to a painful stop. A loud cracking sound pierced through his auditals as he slammed into the hard stone beneath him.
Skyfire resigned himself to lying on the ground in a misguided attempt to ride out the pain. However, his attempts were thwarted by the sound of approaching heeled pedes. The shuttle reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and examined his surroundings. Everything was spinning, but he was able to piece together that he was in some kind of underground tunnel system with strange violet crystals sticking out of the walls as a glowing light source. Fascinating. None of the human databases he had scoured about this location said anything about this.

But at the same time a voice in the back of his processor was screaming memories at him of right before he had been trapped under the ice.

“Sky?”

He stiffened at the sound of the voice that was coming from behind him. Skyfired braced himself and slowly turned around to face the inevitable confrontation. 

 
The former Decepticon SIC had certainly changed from when he had last seen him. The vents on his helm twisted up to resemble horns that were almost covered by a crown that seemed to melt into his head, his wings and optics were the same shade of purple as the crystals around them, and the familiar red and blue paintjob had been corrupted by the color that Skyfire had begun to hate. 

“Sky,” the jet said again in a sing-song voice, engines purring. “It’s so nice to see you again, old friend.”

The shuttle looked down at his former partner, who, despite all the changes, still held himself like he was the taller of the two despite barely reaching the midpoint of his waist.

“We,” he said. “Are not friends.”

The jet dipped his wings and shot Skyfire a hurt look that, despite everything, still pained him. “How can you say that, Sky? It’s me: Starscream.”

No,” Skyfire said, surprised by his own ability to keep his voice from trembling. “You’re not him. Starscream would never do the things that you have done.”

His opponent ignited his thrusters so they could look each other in the eyes. He rested his hands on his knees and smirked over at his opponent, purple optics shimmering with a mesmerizing light. “You were right, you know,” the jet said softly, reaching out and tracing a pattern onto the shuttle’s shoulder plates that had always helped him relax.

“I. . . was?”

“Mmhmm.” Starscream wrapped his arms around the shuttle’s neck. Skyfire didn’t have it in him to stop him; unable to look away from those shimmering optics. “This war is petty. It should have ended long ago.” He caressed his former friend’s face. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”     

Skyfire began to subconsciously wrap his arms around his Seeker. Desperate to keep Starscream close so that they would never again be separated, with one frozen in time and the other left burning with the hatred and evils of war. Skyfire tried to fight with the instincts he thought he had managed to beat into nonexistence, but all resistance melted away like ice in magma when Starscream began to nuzzle into his neck.

“You can join me in my quest,” he mumbled against the shuttle’s neck cables, sending pleasant, tingling vibrations to his processor.

“How are we going to do that?” Skyfire asked as he began to absently stroke Starscream’s wings, which fluttered beneath his touch.

Starscream disengaged his thrusters, trusting Skyfire to support him. “If there’s no life,” he whispered. “There’s no war.”

The shuttle abruptly snapped out of the daze he had found himself consumed by. “All life?” he asked, glossa heavy in his intake. “What about science?”

“I will herald our master's arrival. There would be time to study planets before they are devoured. I am sure he would let you out for that.”

A bitter taste bloomed in Skyfire’s intake as he asked his next question. “What about ruling the Decepticons?”

Starscream’s frame stiffened in his arms, claws digging into his back ever so slightly. “Meaningless. They will all be consumed in the end.” The shuttle flinched as the Seeker’s voice overlapped with an unfamiliar, far more ancient voice. The jet abruptly lifted his head and began to plant quick, gentle kisses on his facial plates. “You’re perfect.”

Skyfire scowled at the affection. “You have to know that I can’t let you get away with this.”

Unicron’s herald dramatically rolled his optics, helm following the motion until it hung limply in what seemed like a bid to get as far from the shuttle as possible. After a long moment of silence where Skyfire began to wonder if the jet had died, his helm snapped forward, a manic grin on his face. “I knew you would never accept my offer. But it was worth a shot.” The Seeker cackled at his own attempt at a joke.

Skyfire subtly adjusted his grip on his enemy. Whatever it was, the Unmaker’s plan couldn’t come to pass.

The Seeker looked up at him with those deplorable purple optics. “I guess all I can do now is destroy everything you love.”

Skyfire glared at the wicked thing he had caught. “Not going to happen.” He swung around and spread his arms, sending the jet flying across the tunnel. Before it could retaliate or escape Skyfire leapt into action and knocked Unicron’s puppet to the ground.

“I must say, I ne—”

Skyfire brought his fist down. Hard. Once. Twice. Again and again, faster and harder each time. Thump. Smash. Crack. Anger consumed his vision as he beat the blurry Seeker into the ground. The shuttle unleashed all his bottled-up rage that he never released while with the Autobots in fear of rejection. All the rage he felt for this jet who had shot him. Who had killed his best friend and then wore his frame like a costume. This jet who was so evil he was willing to trade all the life in the universe for a sick grab at some semblance of power.

He tuned out the Seeker’s screams and pleas for mercy. It was too late for that. This monster needed to suffer for what he had done.

It wasn’t until all the thrashing, all the screams, had stopped that Skyfire took a step back.

Skyfire felt like he was going to puke. His legs shook as he looked down at his hands, stained purple with unholy energon. He looked down at the frame before him. Optics offline, everything broken, and energon everywhere. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Starscream was dead.

The shuttle stumbled backward, igniting his thrusters in a burst of panic and launching himself out of the tunnel system and back onto the cold surface of the arctic tundra. Once he was clear of the entrance, Skyfire collapsed into a snow bank.               

Chapter Text

Arcee stared up at the smoking warehouse while Elita spoke with one of the human scientists who had managed to escape. From what she could tell, it appeared they had been doing some kind of experiment involving ferric oxide. Arcee had never had any real interest in the sciences when she had been on Cybertron, and after leaving there had been no real opportunities for study, but from what Wheeljack had told her, there was nothing particularly dangerous about it that the Decepticons could want. At least not dangerous to Cybertronians. Was it possible that Shockwave was attempting to mutate some unlucky foot soldier or Autobot prisoner? Megatron had never attempted to restrain the former senator before.

The motorcycle tore her gaze away as her commander approached. “What did you learn?”

Elita shook her helm. “One dead. Three fatally wounded. Two injured. A couple containers of hematite were stolen, but they can be replaced. The people can’t.”

Arcee scowled and looked around for something she could punch. Unfortunately, in the frozen tundra, there wasn’t much. A long time ago, she might have sworn vengeance against the Decepticons for this, but she had already done so so many times that the vow had become void and meaningless.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Elita’s worried expression. “Where’s Skyfire?”

Scrap, she thought. How had she missed the lack of presence from their twenty-five meter tall companion.

The two Autobots transformed and turned around, speeding to retrace their steps while kicking up a cloud of snow behind them.  Eventually, they came across their lost companion kneeled over in a snow bank, a look that managed to dance on the line between anger and guilt possessed his face. Skyfire looked up at the approaching Autobots, his optics wide with panic.

“Skyfire!” Elita shouted as she transformed. “What happened?”

The shuttle turned his gaze away from the SIC and toward Arcee, although he still refused to look her in the optics. “I killed him,” he choked out.

Elita placed a hand on his shoulder, her tone changing to something more empathetic. “Killed who?”

Skyfire’s servos curled into fists. “Starscream.”

The motorcycle snorted. “And for a moment I thought it was someone important.”

“Arcee!”

“I said what I said.”

Elita sighed. “Where’s the body? I need her out of here so I can console you.”

“Down in the hole.”

Arcee looked to her right and spotted the chasm the shuttle must have been referring to. “On it.” She transformed her servos into a pair of blades and took a running leap into the icy pit. She slammed her blades into side and allowed gravity to carry her down with the knives keeping her steady.

When she finally reached the bottom, she froze. Pun intended. Arcee hadn’t bothered to form a clear vision of what it would look like down here. She had assumed it would just be more ice. The motorcycle was instead greeted with a wide, twisting tunnel of dark stone with purple glowing crystals sticking out of the walls like jagged teeth. Crumpled in a corner was the trashed corpse of a jet.

Arcee cautiously approached the body. It was Starscream, but he was barely recognizable. He had changed his paint to shades of purple, and his helm and wing shape had changed as well. On top of that, he had also been very obviously beaten to death.

Good for you, Sky, she thought.

Starscream’s face plate had been smashed in, and his cockpit was nothing but shattered purple glass. Bits of his helm had been torn off and were still attached to a weird crown that lay near his head. The one optic that hadn’t been destroyed was dull and grey. He certainly looked dead. Though, just to be sure, she should probably look in the spark chamber.

Forcing the panel open, she found exactly what she had expected. His spark had been extinguished.

Arcee stepped back and turned around, activating her comm-link.

<Arcee to Elita-One. I have found the body.>

<Dead?>

<Spark is extinguished. That’s one threat we can cross off the list.>

<Good work. Head back up. We’ll send a retrieval team for the body later.>

Arcee snorted. <Doesn’t deserve a sending-off if you ask me. He left Skyfire in the ice, we should return the favor.>    

The abrupt sound of someone snapping a tree in half filled the tunnel. Elita has sent her another message, but Arcee ignored it in favor of looking over her shoulder. The formerly very deactivated corpse was now sitting upright with the head lolling backwards at a disturbing angle that almost hid it from her. The motorcycle fully turned around and shifted her position into a battle stance. She knew that Unicron possessed the ability to create mindless soldiers out of the deceased, but she had assumed that the jet had been so obnoxious that the Unmaker wouldn’t even want his thoughtless husk around.

Starscream’s helm snapped back into place with another sickening pop and his optics flickered back on. “What the. . .” His gaze landed on Arcee and he squinted. “You’re the two-wheeler, right? What are you doing here?”

Zombies could talk?! Last time she checked they couldn’t.

“Surrender now, Pit-spawn.”

The Seeker rolled his optics and leaned back on his servos. “My legs aren’t working yet. Will you give me a klick?”

She aimed a blaster at him. He lifted his servos in a sign of surrender, which only succeeded to throw off his balance and cause him to fall backwards. The jet balled his servos into fists and let out a long frustrated scream.

Arcee accessed her comm-link. <Cancel the party. He’s alive.>

“Why are you like this!” Starscream groaned.

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t rule over a wasteland!” A pause. “Yes, I’m counting the void of space! You need life to rule! Everyone knows that!”

Arcee awkwardly took a step back.

“No. We made a deal for power. Destruction is not power.” The Seeker sat back up and criss-crossed his legs, which had apparently regained their function. “You know what I mean!”

A message popped up from Elita. <What do you mean he’s alive.>

<What do you think I mean? He’s somehow either running without a spark or it somehow reignited.>

<And he’s functioning normally?>

“Oh, I’m acting like a sparkling?”

<Nope. He’s nuts.>

<We’ll be down it a klick. Will you be okay until we get there?>

“I did not try to seduce him. It was tactical emotional manipulation. There’s a difference!”

<I think I can handle it.>

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shrieking coming from in front of her. She looked up to see Starscream seemingly attempting to fight against his own frame in an attempt to stop it from picking up the crown she had spotted lying next to where he had fallen. His talons gripped the circlet and lifted it above his head, his optics screaming an uncharacteristic aversion to the symbol of power. Arcee had started backing away from the display and preparing her blasters, but she was still close enough to hear the Seeker’s whispered words.

“Please. I promise I’ll be good. Just don’t–”

Violet wires burst out of the crown and plugged themselves into his helm, causing him to let out a scream that should have torn his vocalizer to shreds. By the time Elita and Skyfire had landed behind her, the exclamation had trailed off into a series of painful glitches. The jet’s wings drooped and his optics flickered off.
The crown affixed itself on his head and his optics flared to life with his wings perking up immediately after. Starscream examined the group in front of him with the same smirk Arcee had seen him wear in many a battle. He cocked a hip and clasped his servos together. “I apologize for that.”

Elita and Arcee fired up their blasters and aimed them at his spark in unison.

“Ah, yes. That. Well, as much as I would love to stay and chat, I have plans I need to attend to. Until next time.”

Before anyone could stop him, Starscream transformed and flew out of the cavern at an impossible speed. By the time the trio reached the top, he was long gone.