Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream didn’t know how long he had been floating in this black void for.

But for all that had been said, death hasn’t been interesting for him so far. Just that it was cold and dark and that he was unbearably bored. He'd decided (in a bout of boredom) to name this place The Void. He forgot the name sometimes, then remembered it again, then doubted he’d ever named it in the first place. He might’ve done this a thousand times. Or once. Or never. He couldn't place how long into his solitude he'd come up with that title (haha void. Get it? Yeah. No, he didn't laugh either), as without chronometer to check, he had no idea how long he'd been floating for. Had it been vorns? Millennia? Entire wars could have risen and fallen beyond this dark — and he’d never know.

Vorns of The Void drowning out the thoughts in his head, leaving him hollow and empty. Empty and hollow. It was all the same

His energon had long been drained from his veins leaving nothing. His mind had stayed intact, but at what cost?

He'd scream until his voice broke. Wept, feral with the weight of his own loneliness and the unfairness of it all.

I stood by you. He’d shout into the silence. Millions of stellar cycles spent as your Second in Command—

Sometimes he spoke to The Void, knowing it listened—but didn't answer back.

It never answered back but he had convinced himself, for his own sanity’s sake, that it could. One day. Take pity on him, and respond to the deranged mutterings of a deadman. Was he dead? He felt dead.

The void swallowed all his screams, his rants, his mutterings, his tears. Soon enough, he had lost the energy to continue and stayed still with his thoughts.

The silence consumed his surroundings. The hard, uncomfortable throne that he had once sat on started to fade away, along with the last thing he’d seen: the snarling faces of the Predacons melting into static. Sometimes he remembered begging. Other times he remembered fighting. He wasn’t sure anymore which memory was true, or if either had ever happened.

Even Megatron’s face—etched once in rage and awe—had dulled to a smear of gray.

The feelings of anger and vengeance had been swept under the rug, with no one to rant to… what was the point? He is nothing now. There is no body to gawk at, just him and this darkness. Was there even a ‘him’ left?

It was just black all around. There wasn’t a single spark around him either. If this was the Allspark, then he was sorely disappointed. The priests back on Cybertron had promised warmth, light — comfort. Honestly, he’d take the Pit over this!

Starscream scowled in anger, but the expression was quickly stolen off his face.

The more he thought about it, the more he could see that this was really a blessing in disguise.

Here, in the depths of The Void, no one could hurt him. And there was no one for him to hurt either.

Starscream had lived for millions of millennia. Those millennium wasted on him going through pain, fear, and shame. But, for once he had not felt any of those things here… it can even be called peaceful.

The Void steals all things with time, slowly, but surely it had taken his ambitions, his power, his vengeance. He was forgetting. Gradually. But, forgetting all the same. He clung onto fragments—his wings, his title, his name. But even those began to slip. Those days were the hardest.

“Starscream,” he’d whisper.

Then again.

Then screamed.

Sometimes the word echoed. Sometimes it didn’t.

Other times, the name rang hollow — like someone else’s title. Like a story he'd been told, not a life he'd lived.

Sometimes he wasn’t even sure if it was his name.

It was maddening—this... not knowing. Was this real? Was any of it?

He could hear them now. Skywarp’s manic giggles curling like smoke around the edges of his processor. Thundercracker’s low, patient murmurs—judging. Waiting. They were taunting him. THEY WERE TAUNTING HIM. This place was eating him alive. IT WAS RUINING HIM. He could feel their optics staring daggers into his 'dead' spark. They wanted him gone. Vanished. It wasn’t his fault… IT WASN’T.

How much longer could he take this? This silence. This insanity. He was getting worse by every passing moment, he could feel it. The way his voice started to whimper- losing its edge, its spark. Ha SPARK! get it? no no no no. Stop. Stop that. You went off the rails again. Why does this keep happening...? A croaking sound left his vocalizer. Why does this keep happening...?

He wanted to hold onto the peace that this Void had provided him with. He needed to. Anything was better than listening to them. A manic giggle started to invade into his processor, the Void quickly flicked it away- back into the dark. This silence… it was his refuge.

Megatron’s face dulled. The screams of the Predacons blurred into static. He could no longer remember if he fought back, or simply begged. His own voice—sharp, proud, relentless—faded to a whisper in his mind. The voices that littered in the background had faded into static a cold numbness washing over his frame.  

But the weight of betrayal clawed at his thoughts, relentless and unforgiving. No… He couldn’t help but feel anger (how much longer would this last for?) at how his ‘glorious’ master Megatron had just abandoned the Decepticon cause like that! How could he- after everything that he had suffered by being his Second in Command, this is the thanks he gets?! After everything he had been through, the lies- the scheming- all of it was, just, A WASTE OF TIME.

He had spent several million stellar cycles standing next to that dark energon-infested glitch, just for his ending to be done by one of- eugh- Shockwave’s mindless beasts. Before he could continue, a sigh escaped Starscream and his face slacked in defeat. The rage that once drove him burned low, smothered by exhaustion.

It was funny. Allspark, Pit, Void—it didn’t matter. They were all the same in the end. Just different lies told by different fools to distract themselves from the silence, that is now his haven. 

He was tired.
So fragging tired.
And for the first time in vorns, Starscream let himself float into nothing.

 He just wanted to rest and what better place to do it than in the Void.

So, he clawed onto the peace that The Void's isolation gave him.

He held onto that peace like you’d hold a blade.

Careful. With a strong grip. Fully aware that if he loosened his hold, that same peace which once provided him comfort would turn on him.

Cut deep. Remind him of the ache that comes with forgetting.

If his optics are open, he closes them. He lets himself rest for once. There are no more Decepticons, no more Autobots and especially… no more Megatron. It is just him and this void. He oddly feels at peace with that thought- that Megatron has no power over him anymore, that he cannot command by him anymore. No more chains, no more beatings. He is his own Master now.

So, for the first time in vorns, Starscream breathes in silence and rests. His story has finished; the book has come to a close. The great Starscream’s ambitions have been stolen. The desperate need to prove himself to a cause he once believed in has been silenced. There is no need to prove yourself anymore.

_[< , ÷: ÷= &!# /[

Something shocked him from his slumber.

Wha-

The tug came again, not from an outside force, but from something within. Confused, he looked down expecting nothing but darkness, but instead he saw something.

How long has it been since he’d seen anything at all?

A faint blue light pulsed in the distance. Gentle. Persistent. Alive.

He didn’t know why, but the sight of it caused his expired spark to tug harder, aching with something he couldn’t name. Before he realized, he was already moving towards it, drawn by instinct alone. The light pulsed brighter and brighter the closer he got. Each pulse radiating waves of comfort that warped his dim spark. It didn’t make sense- nothing did here – but the light stirred the memories of large white servos and the clear purple skies of Vos.

“Sky…fire?” he whispered.

His servos trembled as he reached out and cupped the light, pulling it gently towards his chest like something precious. Something lost.

The glow shimmered — not harsh or blinding, but gentle. Familiar. Like the warmth of a memory long buried beneath cold ambition.

He looked at it closer. The light it produced dripped along its edges with bright, viscous, gulps, but they never fell. It was almost reminiscent of the shifting contents within a lava lamp, just without it being encased. It was unbounded—free. 

Starscream’s intake caught.

He had thought about Skyfire more times than he could count. His roommate. His friend. His partner. His Conjux. No matter how much time had passed, he never forgot him. Even within the Void, that name had echoed in the dark. 

But he had always squashed those feelings deep within his processor. After all, what good is a Decepticon with a broken bond? He had never shared the memories of Skyfire with anyone after the death of his trine. How could he? Their deaths had brought nothing but pain, he had to bury them, he had to! If he didn’t… he wouldn’t have come this far.

Oh really? And where are you now? a faint whisper echoed.

But… if he thought hard enough, he could almost imagine those large servos caressing his back and the way his deep voice rumbled throughout his frame and the way his- no, no. Not now, not now. The light tugged and the memories of pain dispersed.

For a moment, he dared to believe the light would stay. That something—someone—might still be reaching for him. For the first time in vorns, he almost believed in hope. That was his first mistake.
His time within the Void was dulling his edges, smoothing them. How could he fall for something so obvious?

Slowly… the comfort it brought began to fade.

He didn’t know what went wrong, but the light within his servos started to flicker rapidly like a dying ember. Panic gripped Starscream as he held the light tighter, as if the warmth could anchor him in this place with no sky, no time.

Then it pulsed. Once. Twice. And then- it pulled.

Before he could register what was happening, he felt a sudden force surge outward from the core, like gravity turned inside out. The darkness that he was once familiar with started to warp and bend, spiralling around the light like a black hole in reverse.

It set off all the alarm bells in his head.

Danger Danger Danger—

Starscream tried to let go of the light, but found that he couldn’t. He tugged and pulled, but no matter how hard he tried the light didn’t let him go. A harsh tug within his dim spark caused Starscream to yelp in pain.

No! NO! STOP MERCY, MERCY PLEA- the dull ache of claws raking through his frame whispered from the edges of his mind. He thought he buried that ages ago.

It dragged him. And then-

It exploded.

Now, if Starscream wasn’t bombarded with the red notifications flashing within his processor, he might’ve been able to appreciate the odd light show the void had provided him with. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t.

The light had begun to carve through the darkness. The void shattered like glass put under strain. Starscream screamed as multiple images rushed through his head. He couldn’t comprehend it. He saw himself, at least he thought it was himself—different frames, different paths, different fates. Some with trines. Some without. Some dead. Some triumphant. None of them him.
Or all of them.

What - What the frag is happening?!

A whisper echoed within his helm, gentle, familiar, but distant.

“You never had to.”

Who- what-?

But there was no time to register that thought before he felt something pulling him down. Ah slag not this again he thought bitterly, and the world turned into a flash of white, letting the force of gravity lure him somewhere other than here.

Chapter Text

Starscream first noticed something was wrong when he heard the sound of air rushing around him. At first, he thought it was a fluke—a hallucination. After all, he had experienced this before. A cruel experience. The Void loved to dangle his desires in front of him, taunting him with illusions he could never grasp.

How dare they taunt him with the sky! He thought.

But this time, something was different. His thoughts weren’t silenced. The wind didn’t fade. It howled past his frame with purpose—real, tangible.

He stirred.

What just happened…? I saw a blue light and then-

He jerked awake, his optics flickering online their bright red hue. He was confused at the sight that came before him. Tall, metal pillars loomed over him with a hint of rust creeping around the gaps. The room was dark, eerie, but one thing stood clear.

He was back. Back to the living. Back to Megatron.

A shiver racked through his frame.

 How- How did I come back? Last I checked I was dead, energon depleted and everything. So, if I’m back. Did that mean…

Starscream eagerly tilted his helm down to look at himself and there it was… his frame. His gorgeous, slim frame entered his vision. The sleek metal sheets folded around his tibulen nicely, as his heel struts gleamed healthily underneath Luna 1’s moonlight. At least, it looked like it gleamed.

His optics narrowed looking closer at his frame. There was something off. His frame was here, but he didn’t feel anything. He raised a servo, slowly, hesitantly towards his tibulen-expecting contact.

Nothing.

No weight. No pressure. No texture. The hand moved, but it might as well have been passing through fog.

His processor stalled.

I’m here. I’m back. So why… why does it feel like I never left?

Like I’m still… still in the Void—

The laughter curled at the edges of his mind — sharp, brittle, like broken glass. Skywarp’s giggle slithered through the dark, a venomous hiss he couldn’t shake.

You’re weak, it whispered.

His spark pulsed unevenly, each beat a dull ache. They were here — always here, just out of reach, shadows twisting his thoughts. The silence that once brought peace now felt like a trap, tightening with every breath.

Weak. Forgotten. Alone.

Rage bubbled beneath the surface, hot and frantic, but the anger wasn’t sharp anymore — it was dull, tired. The void wasn’t just emptiness; it was a slow, cruel suffocation.

no…No…NO!

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT!

 I WILL NEVER GO BACK TO THE VOID!

I BELONG HERE!

His clawed servos shot up to grip his helm as he clutched it down to his knees, curling up as his intakes got stronger with every quake.

What- Why am I even acting like this?! Like a sparkling! Just intake. INTAKE!

He vented sharply, waiting for the rush of cool air. Waiting for it to flood through his system, to soothe the burn rising in his core.

But nothing came.

He vented harder.

Still nothing.

Why won’t it work-?!

Starscream felt himself venting, but the cool air of the Earth didn’t enter. No matter how hard he tried the air just didn’t want to enter, disobeying his requests. His frame grew hotter, at least it felt it was getting hotter, was it just him…?

No… no. I can’t- I can’t intake.

That was until he realised it. How could he be so stupid. The panic he felt before settled as the sudden realisation came. He wasn’t venting because he didn’t need to anymore.

He was still dead.

Drip

A drip echoed from behind. That is when he really looked at his surroundings. The metal pillars gleamed proud, familiar. An image of claws racking through his frames flashed beneath his optics as a dulling headache rose from the depths. That’s right… no wonder why this place looked familiar, this was DarkMount. The place where his spark flickered for the last time. If his memory served him right… then that meant.

His helm turned. And there it was, his frame… his old frame laying in the cracked throne. It was beyond recognisable. The only way to tell it was even him is from the Decepticon logo scratched on his battered chassis. But even then, it was hard to tell. Those beasts have really ruined him. His frame bore deep, raking claw marks, with energon still dripping from his greyed-out form.

His claws, dull and dented, bore the marks of desperate resistance— it was useless in the end. He remembered faintly the begging, the excuses that left his mouth, on how he was still useful, still of value, but they fell on deaf ears. His wings hung shredded and twisted in ways indescribable. But the most noticeable were the missing limbs. The bottom half of his legs were gone, devoured with audible jaw marks.

He couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him, he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself. His chassis was ripped open into shreds revealing the innermost private parts of his spark casing, now devoid of the spark that once fuelled him. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

His frame was missing a helm.

It wasn’t scratched or shredded. It was missing, leaving nothing but a stump of a neck. The energon still leaked out of the open lines, creating a pool of energon around his headless frame.

Those dripping sounds… it wasn’t from leftover rainwater. It was his energon.

Starscream’s red optics dilated leaving none of his black sclera visible. His long claws lifted to cover the whimpers that dared to leave his mouthpiece. He couldn’t help himself but stare at the shredded stump that once connected to his helm.

“T-those beasts!” He whined, “How could they?! They reduced me into some chewed up dog toy!”

A lightbulb had switched on in his helm.

Starscream now understood. He looked at his claws and noticed its almost transparent hue. Almost like he was-

“…A ghost.”

A pause ripped him from his panic as he turned away from his dead frame. He said it aloud, but it didn’t feel real. Ghosts were myths. Programming glitches. Pit-sick stories told by dying bots who refused to let go. Even those idiotic ghost stories from human films Kn̵̴͍̤̭͔͉ͬ̋ͯ̍́͌ͅ0̡̖̱̻̝͎͔̭̟̂̓͋̽ͧͩͮ̉ͬ̓͐̚͜͜c̚ͅ*͚̗͚̰̻̱̮̾̑͗ͯͩ̆͛ͥ̂̕͞0̸̝͕̣͔̜͈̱̻̑̓͋͊̽ͬ͋̌́͆̔͡ͅ-̷̸̵̛̛͚̯̭̬͉̘̜ͩ͒̂̉͂̆͛̔ͭ͆ͣ̓͋̑̐ͮ̈͢͝t̸̴̸̨̧̘̯͎̱̲̥̝̥̩͊̊̋̀̽̏ͨͤ͌̎̌̾̆ͪͯ̕͘͢͞͠ rambled about at his ‘drive-in theatres’ — something about a soul? And yet… here he was. Watching himself rot.

...

Was this his punishment?
Was this the price of failure?

No. No, someone had done this.

“I have been brought back to the living as a ghost. But by who? And why?”

Nothing made sense, why bring him back? And from what he could tell from the state of his body. Starscream took a quick glance at his deformed frame before he pulled himself back to his thoughts. He wasn’t in the void for very long… his corpse only looked about a week old with his energon still spilling out from his wounds. But, how? He had been in the void for cycles- no vorns! There was no way, it was only a week! It couldn’t have been… Maybe time worked slower in The Void. That had to be the solution for the odd time difference…

Panic tried to claw its way out of his processor, but Starscream smothered it down, practising the same movements that The Void had taught to him there. A hard exhale left Starscream’s intake. The laughter died out slowly, echoing around the metal chamber like the last cry of a spark. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just… existed.

… A plan. He needed to plan.

…

The Autobots had clearly won the war. He concluded.

Especially after that humiliating defeat that Megatron declared the Decepticons disbanded. A familiar anger flickered within Starscream. Megatron… Did he know? Did he know that his ‘precious’ second-in-command died from someone else’s hands?

A gruelling laugh escaped Starscream’s throat.

Oh! Who was he kidding! Megatron? Precious?

Ha!

That fool never cared. He cared for nobody, but himself! Where was the general that he followed during the early days of the movement?

His claws clenched into a fist as he remembered the descent of the Decepticon Cause. Starscream was many things. A coward. A traitor. A fool. But stupid he was not. Within the time he spent in the Void he had realised that the Decepticons had lost their true values during this long, torturous war. At least the Autobots (no matter how vile they were) stuck true to their word, but the Decepticons didn’t.

This revelation was met with resistance, after all, he had pledged his so-called loyalty to the cause. He had fought, killed and lied his way to the top for this cause. But… ALL of that hard work was thrown down the drain when Megatron introduced Dark Energon into the game.

He knew it was bad. He knew it was corrupting Megatron in ways unimaginable. And yet… he too had fallen under the allure of infinite strength from one tiny rock.

…How did he fall this far?

Starscream slumped to the floor his back resting on the side of the throne carrying his fresh corpse behind him.

Drip.

Well… the dark energon did reject him.

Drip.

That meant that he was better than Megatron!

Drip.

That meant he had a stronger will!

Drip.

A stronger spark.

DRIP.

Maybe he was brought back for a reason.

DRIP.

Maybe… just maybe, it was never loyalty that kept him in chains.

Maybe it was fear.

And for the first time in vorns… he wondered what would happen if he stopped being afraid.

“I was rejected by the dark energon… so I’m stronger. That’s it. That’s why I’m here. I’m better. I—”

He cut himself off with a wheezing laugh. It was too quiet. Too brittle.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore…”

He tilted his helm back, staring at the dark ceiling of the ruined throne room.

“Is this it?” he whispered to no one. “Is this where you come for me?”

Skyfire.

Thundercracker.

Skywarp.

Wasn’t one of them supposed to guide him to the Well?

But the room remained still. The air, cold. The drips dissipating into silence. Cybertron kept on spinning, as the air rushed through Starcsream’s ghostly form, he hoped that one day he would feel it again, but now he never will. His corpse laid still, unmoving. Its posture had not changed, its bright blue energon continued to spread further, the only proof that this wasn’t another illusion.

He could hear the mocking laughter behind him. Oh… is little Screamer starting to go insane?

Starscream sighed as the laughter began to fade, but he could still feel them lurking.

“Of course… the Void is still out to get me. Even here” he spoke to no one. “Is this really what I have been reduced to? A footnote in history?”

He didn’t dare to close his optics. Afraid that this whole thing was a sham a hallucination. Despite assuring himself that this reality was very much real, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the thoughts that crept into his processor. He turned his helm up to look at Cybertron’s night sky. It was clear, no clouds were in sight, only the bright, silver moon casting light through the broken ceiling.

The silence lingered, thick and cold.
The shadows at the edges of the throne room seemed to ripple, like something was watching. Waiting. Laughing. Even moonlight couldn’t reach the darkest corners of the room.

He hated the dark…

***

Meanwhile elsewhere… (At the Autobot Base)

“Ratchet,” Arcee called, her voice tinged with urgency and confusion. “You might want to see this.”

The Autobot medic stepped away from his console, frowning at the flashing readout on the monitors. A cluster of Energon signatures—far too large to be natural—had just flared to life. The location was unexpected.

“DarkMount…” Ratchet muttered, tapping the panel. “That much raw Energon in one spot should’ve shown up on our long-range scans days ago. Of all places, why DarkMount? And why now?”

“Well, it’s here,” Arcee said grimly. “Do you think it’s Starscream?”

Her tone darkened at the mention of his name. She hadn’t forgotten that murderer. Even the sound of his name sent a shiver of anger through her plating.

Ratchet noticed, releasing a long sigh.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, crossing his arms as his helm turned away from Arcee toward the screen. A weight settled in his optics—a foreboding chill that settled deep in his processor. “When the Predacons came back after their so-called ‘revenge,’ they didn’t answer any of our questions about what happened to Starscream. Just that they ‘took care of him’... and that he’ll never bother us again.”

“What is this talk I hear about Starscream?”

The two Autobots were interrupted from their thoughts as they turned their helms to the doorway. Standing there was Knockout. His red finish gleamed brightly under the ceiling’s bioluminescent lights. His arms were crossed, a band containing the Autobot insignia now on full display as his bright red optics stared intently at them as if trying to decipher some hidden code.

“Oh, Knockout. Just the bot I wanted.” Ratchet drawled out.

The tension in the room thickened.

“Oh, do tell,” Knockout purred, stepping closer. “What urgent little mystery has you dragging me into your Star-scream of a conversation?”

Arcee didn’t say a word. Her optics narrowed, jaw tensing—quietly, dangerously.

Knockout caught the look, of course. He always did. He stepped closer anyway, smiling like nothing could touch him.

“Easy, darling,” he purred, voice honey-sweet and just as sharp. “No need to crack your plating over old ghosts.”

Arcee met his gaze. Flat. Icy. The kind of stare that made bots stop talking. Knockout paused. Just briefly. Then the smirk returned, thinner this time.

“Touchy,” he added under his breath, more to himself than to her.

She looked away. He wasn’t worth it.

Ratchet scoffed.

“Well.” He started, “To continue our conversation. Yes, Knockout you are just the mech I’m looking for. We got an Energon anomaly ping at Darkmount.”

“An energon anomaly… at Darkmount” he repeated, almost like the idea was improbable. A distant look flashed in his optics for a second, but the mask was hushed back on like nothing had changed. “And you think Starscream has something to do with this?” he playfully added.

Ratchet shrugged, turning his focus back on the console trying to see if the energon anomaly wasn’t just a glitch in the system.

“It is our best bet. The predacons last known conflict with Starscream was on Darkmount and who knows? Maybe he had come back and set base over there.”

“And you want me to deal with it? Couldn’t you go instead?”

“No. If Starscream is injured at Darkmount we will need a doctor that he is familiar and would not be hostile with.”

A chuckle escaped Knockouts vocaliser.

“And you think that he won’t attack me?” he laughed. “If you hadn’t noticed yet. We haven’t exactly left on the best terms!”

Ratchet sighed knowing that this conversation was going around in loops. “I know that, but you’re our best bet. Plus, I wouldn’t be sending you alone. You would have Bumblebee with you.”

“WHAT?!” A recognisable voice rang out.

A smack echoed into the room.

Silence. All helms turned slowly towards the doorway where a yellow and black mech was intently eavesdropping in.

“Bumblebee…” Ratchet spoke disappointedly.

The young Autobot’s optics flickered nervously as he stepped into the room, his servos twitching at his sides.

“Sorry…” he mumbled, voice low. “I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping… but when Starscream was mentioned, I—” He swallowed hard, glancing away. “I thought the war was finally over. That we’d get to breathe, get to rebuild. But it feels like it’s still chasing us.” He exhaled sharply, eyes wide and uncertain. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Ratchet studied him silently for a moment before replying, his voice softer but firm. “I understand Bee. But it’s not over yet. Not for a long time.”

Bumblebee’s eyes grew distant as he looked at the energon anomaly pinging at Darkmount on the console screen. He understood the gravity of the situation. Especially if Starscream was involved…

“I – I understand.” He spoke firmly. “I would not mind joining Knockout to Darkmount.”

“Woah, Bee.” Arcee interjected. “If you’re going then I’m coming with.”

She stepped forward with purpose, standing protectively between him and Knockout, optics narrowed.

“I’m not letting you head into that place alone — especially with him,” she added as she pointed towards Knockout.

“Rude,” Knockout scoffed. “One day you’re going to miss this dazzling company.”

Arcee ignored the jab. “And if Starscream’s involved, you’re going to need backup.”

A small smile crossed Bumblebee’s face. “Thanks, Arcee. That means a lot.”

“Yawn,” Knockout drawled, leaning back as he stretched his arms. “Touching. But can we save the team-building exercise for after we investigate the spooky murder fortress?”

A pinched look overtook Arcees faceplate, annoyed at his interruption. But she soon retained her composure and sent a look to Ratchet. He sighed as he turned towards the console.

The room darkened as the Groundbridge began to flare with life accompanied with a mechanical hum. A swirling vortex of green and blue energy started to emerge creating a tear within space like an open wound. The hum it emitted vibrated deep within their plating – almost like a warning.

“Now hold on for a minute.”

Ratchet turned from the console, arms full of gear. “Here,” he said gruffly, handing each bot a compact medkit. “In case the spooky murder fortress bites back.”. A sharp look was turned towards Knockout.

A scoff was heard in reply.

He hesitated for just a second before handing the scanner to Bumblebee. “And Bee? Keep your optics open. Starscream doesn’t stay dead without a fight.” He stood back making sure that everything was set and ready to go, “Make sure to watch yourselves. Darkmount's structure is still partially collapsed, so make sure to not disturb it too much.”

His optics landed on Knockout.

“And you - keep your ego in check, I want no messing around. You’re a good medic, Knockout. But don’t screw this up just because he’s involved.”

Knockout let out a displeased noise, throwing his servos in the air.

“What do you take me for, a sparkling?! Puh-lease! Starscream is nothing more but a washed-up narcissist, and is certainly the LAST mech that could tempt me. Trust me- I’m over it.”

Ratchet rolled his eyes at that response.

“Well then by all means, prove it” he said while gesturing towards the Groundbridge portal.

“C’mon stop chit-chatting. We have a certain Starscream to visit.” Arcee smirked as she threw herself towards the portal, rushing in, determined.

Bumblebee followed closely behind, silent but focused.

Knockout lingered a moment longer, letting out an exaggerated sigh before stepping through after them.

The Groundbridge hissed shut behind them leaving Ratchet alone with only the hum of the machinery to accompany him.

A few clicks went by as Ratchet stewed in his silence. His frame slumped as he stared at the growing energon ping on the console screen. The weight of what he was processing pressed down on him, his demeanour shifted—becoming heavier, almost tangible, as a suffocating field of melancholy slowly engulfed the entire room, thickening the air with quiet grief.

“Optimus…” he whispered, voice cracking. “If only you were here, maybe then… this wouldn’t feel so fragging impossible.”

…

* * *

Starscream woke from his daze when he started to hear voices nearby. He winced and curled tighter into himself, trying to will them away. Now was not the time to fall back into his delusions. Not when the Void had already made a mockery of his mind.

Ignore them. He thought.

Ignore them.

But the voices didn’t die down.

If anything, they grew louder. Clearer. More real. In fact, if he strained his audials hard enough, he could hear the exchange of words being flung around. Muffled at first, like sound distorted through muffled glass.

“T-e e---erg-- --ead-ng is –is w-y.”

“…A-e -ou s-re?”

“Of c—rse I AM!”

That last word rang clear. Fully knocking his helm back into awareness. The numbing static that he felt before, quickly vanished as he came to the sudden realization that there were other mechs here… REAL mechs.

A shiver ran through him. A clouding effect overtaking his limbs.

Mechs…? Real…? How long has it been?

Lights blinked erratically behind his optics, voices whispered and shouted all at once.

They’re here. They’re real.
No. No. Not real. Not real.
They are. They have to be.

His servos twitched at the sides of his frame as he started to tremble with uncontained excitement. He couldn’t help but let out a heaving laugh. Eyes widening- he could feel their frames edging closer to his position. He couldn’t help it- he just couldn’t. It was funny, it was just too funny.

A whistle echoed throughout the room as gruelling glitched laughs overtook. They were mocking him again.

“Don’t ruin this for me.” He snarked out, claws slicing through the air. “They’re here. They’re real. This is real.”

For me. All for me. Formemememememememememememememememe-

He jolted upright, standing too fast for his still-recovering ghostly frame. The motion sent static dancing across his optics, but he didn’t care. (Was the pain even real?) He stumbled forward, optics wide, expression flickering between manic delight and deep suspicion. He turned excitedly to his corpse. Nothing had changed, it was still here. Rotting. Glowing.

“Now, I hope that you are on your best behaviour!” his optics dilated, “I wouldn’t want you scaring away our guests!”

His wings twitched involuntarily. Too loud. Too close.

A giggle slipped from his voice box.

“Do you hear them?” he whispered, mostly to himself. “Scraping around like vermin… Always sniffing, always looking‒”

The voices outside grew louder, reaching nearer to his location. He could feel them. There was an itch beneath his plating. Their frames felt undeniably close. He felt them. Not imagined, not shadows. Real. Their fields buzzed at the edge of his senses, undeniable and close. The itch grew — crawling under his plating like static. Heavy. Charged

Unless the Void was lying again. It did that. Sometimes.

 no…NO! not true! Not real!

He pressed against the armrest of his throne, talons scraping lightly along the surface (no marks- it can’t be. I am real! I’m real!). A quick flick – nothing remains.

This motion had caused him to ripple through the object and knock hard into the ground. Pain—if it was real—spiked through his sensors as static crackling around his optics. Stumbling for assistance. A gruelling laugh escaped his throat, tinged with hysteria. Finding the situation to be nothing but hilarious. He stood up quick, taking great big gulps of air that never came. He took staggering steps towards his corpse and turned to look – a manic glee overtaking his optics.

“But I’m here. Oh, I’m here, and I’m watching. Listening. Can’t you feel it? The tension?” He tilted his helm, listening to the echo of approaching voices. “It’s almost… intoxicating.”

His corpse lay still, the edges of his vision were warping, the darkness was close. But they were closer.

He quickly turned away from his corpse and stumbled towards the door with the grace of drunkard. He stopped a fair distance away before clutching at his helm, optics twitching. His processor felt like it was being dragged through mud. He couldn’t stop it, he just couldn’t. This is funny, how funny. A sense of euphoria slowly infecting his lines down to his pedes.

“D- y-u thi-k Stars-ream is here?”

A sound from the hall- a shuffle, a whisper, a name- and Starscream froze. His field snapped tight like a sprung wire.

“They’ve come to see me,” he said softly.

How lucky am I? an audience just for me…?

“Finally.”

Then, quieter.

“Let’s give them a show.”

His helm turned upside to stare at his corpse. His optics were fully red now. No black sclera to be seen.

The footsteps grew louder – an intoxicating buzz overtook his frame leaving his processor dizzy with delight. His head snapped back as he counted the pedesteps.

One… four… No- three!

Three mechs were coming to see him. Him!

His vision swarmed with white static and his spark‒ or what was left of it ‒fluttered like it hadn’t in vorns. It had been so long since he’d seen another Cybertronian! So long since he’d seen anything at all.

HEY!

WHAT ABOUT US?!

youforgotusyouforgotusyouforgotus ‒

A sneer appeared on his face.

“Shut up!” he yelled ‒ swatting his claws in the air, “You don’t count!”

They will not be ruining this! Not now! Not when he was so close!

“Ignore them,” he said out loud this time. “They aren’t real.”

That’s when he heard it. The sound of hydraulics hissing. The room shook as the massive steel doors groaned open, slowly, revealing who was on the other side.

Yes, YES! THEYRE HERE, THEYRE HERE!

His claws scraped against his forearms, the sound sharp and relentless (or was he just imagining it?). He laughed—no, cackled—a high-pitched, frantic sound that bounced off the walls and shattered the heavy silence.

“Closer! Closer! Come to me!” His voice cracked, pitch rising with every word. “I see you, I feel you! Don’t hide! Don’t—”

A sudden jolt. The laughter stuttered, broken by a shiver racing through his servos. His optics flickered, shifting from bright red to deep black, then back again.

“No, no, no!” His voice dropped low, venomous. “Stop lying to me, Void! I’m not alone. I’m never alone.”

He twisted, twitching, his head jerking as if chasing something just beyond sight. The cold metal beneath his fingers blurred. His mind spun faster than his systems could track.

You’re here. You’re here.

His mouth opened—no, his vocalizer spasmed—letting out a choked, desperate sob. Then a manic grin cracked across his face, jagged and wild.

“They’re coming,” he whispered, voice trembling with euphoric glee. “My audience.”

Starscream strained his optics to peer closer into the gap. A manic smile creeping ever larger on his face. The voices were louder now, clearer than ever.

“Are you sure we should be up this high?” a femme…

“Well, if the scanner indicates that this is where the energon should be.”

“Be ready we don’t know if Starscream’s in there.”

Starscream’s body tensed getting into a leaping position waiting for the right moment. In the far depths of his mind a thought lingered.

Those voices sounded familiar. But it was quickly drowned out by the noise of static- smothering the recognition before it could take shape. His vision heightened – staring intently at the door, arms raised, heel struts ready to pounce.

A click.

He rushed. Arms flung open in mock of a hug, he was ready, he waited long enough. He’s come to collect his prize.

He could hear them clapping, cheering. They were here for him.

The door flushed open, causing three mechs to burst into the room blasters at the ready, all except for one… the red one.

.

.

.

He froze mid-pounce.

The mech in front of him had a red finish that tickled the edge of his memories. I’ve seen him before, where have I seen him? The euphoria that he had felt before pulled away from his frame and settled into his tanks like lead. He felt sick.

Who-? Who could it be-

He racked his processor quick for the answer. The voices that were once clapping and cheering grew silent, eerily silent. Even they could feel the record scratch. He franticly searched within his files.

Where? where? where? where? WHERE!

It was getting closer now, the feeling of familiarity. He quickly rushed through the corrupted files found deep within his processor. A glint of red passed by, then another, and another. Millions of blurred filled images passing by.

There, there THERE!

The red got clearer now. He quickly reached out then—

The recognition hit him hard like a truck. The mania from before had died down into an ember, the euphoria that danced across his optics faded leaving an empty, hollow sense of foreboding within his frame.

“Knockout…?” Starscream whispered. His expression dropped—fragile. Exposed. Black sclera slowly returning.

The tension in his stance gave way to something smaller. Something frightened. His servos trembled as they clamped over his own frame, curling inward as if he could hide from their gaze.

Knockout froze in place, the name hanging in the air like static. He said nothing, but the shift in his optics was impossible to miss—recognition, disbelief, and something else buried deep.

Starscream felt the weight of that stare, every second stretching thin, threatening to snap. The silence pressed on his plating until he wanted to vanish into the floor.

Starscream felt the weight of that stare press on his plating, hot and suffocating.
How long had it been since anyone looked at him like that?
How long had it been since he had looked at Knockout?

“No…” Starscream muttered, stepping back, optics wide. “You shouldn’t see me like this! I wasn’t ready. We weren’t ready!”

Something flickered in Knockout’s optics — something Starscream couldn’t name. Not yet. He couldn’t believe it… he was here. Real.

The imagined audience was gone now, leaving nothing but the low hum of the room and the faint hiss of his vents.

Only then did their optics break from his… shifting past him.
Scanning. Searching.

Until they locked onto the thing in the middle of the chamber—
The corpse.
Dishevelled. Lifeless. Unmistakable.

Did they-? Did they not see him?

He waved his hand in front of their faces, but no reaction was given.

“Is that…” the yellow one mumbled, a ghastly look upon his face, lips trembling.

“Starscream” The two-wheeler finished angrily, but it couldn’t cover up the way she cringed at the sight.

Their Autobot insignias flashed in Starscream’s view. His mind reeled as the sudden realisation came. Autobots. And not just any Autobot, it was that stupid two-wheeler Ar…Arsea and Bumblebot! No wonder why their voices scratched at his memories, he’s seen them before! Fought them!

Ugh… how could I forget.

Then again, he was pretty sure he had a good reason for forgetting. The Void does do that to you. He chuckled bitterly.

They rushed towards the throne as he followed slowly behind their pedesteps, by no means was he in a rush and stood next to Knockout.

The bot in question knelt down to scan the damage, uncaring of the energon staining his finish (which was surprising to Starscream, considering…everything). His servo fluttered over his exposed chassis, but stopped. His optics were drawn wide, servos shaking. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but the words were caught in his voice box. Unable to speak, just see.

The stillness stretched. Far too long for mere curiosity.

Starscream tilted his head, optics narrowing in interest.

He noticed how Knockouts optics seemed to oscillate between bright and dim. As if a simple resetting of the optics could erase what was in front of him.

Finally, Starscream bent at the waist, arms clasped behind him, letting a mocking smile curl his lips.

“What’s wrong Knockout?” he innocently asked “Cat got your tongue? …I’m sure the missing helm isn’t doing you any favours.”

Starscream gave off a slight giggle at his own joke.

Sadly, there was no response, of course there wasn’t. That’s when Starscream also noticed the band wrapped around Knockouts forearm, containing the Autobot insignia.

Starscream scoffed, “Guess you really are a traitor. You can wear the Autobot insignia, but not the Decepticon one.”

The feelings of betrayal and hurt — feelings he thought buried — flickered to the surface, sharp and unwelcome.

He remembered the rage he’d felt toward him in the Void — the screaming, the cursing, until his throat went raw and his optics brimmed with tears. Until he couldn’t anymore. He didn’t know what to think of Knockout. His betrayal had hurt him. Deeply so. He had considered Knockout as someone almost trustworthy, someone worth more than a comrade, almost like a—

The moment was ruined when a blaster – from Arcee – pointed towards Starscream’s dead chassis. Her grip was steady, but the slight tremor in her arms betrayed the reflex; some part of her refused to believe he could stay down. She nudged the frame lightly with the barrel, the motion automatic, almost impatient. The weapon even passed through his ghostly form. He recoiled from the intrusion and quickly scurried away - unease flickering across his optics.

Ugh… I need to get used to that.

A tense silence settled between them, thick with uncertainty.

Finally, Arcee broke the stillness. “It’s a trick” She said sternly, “It has to be- there’s no way- “

Both Knockout and Starscream just stared in disbelief at her words.

“A trick?!” Starscream yelled. He walked up to her face ignoring Knockout, and pointed at her eyes, which remained unfocused- unflinching.

“How is ANY of this a trick?! I mean I am flattered you think that way…” He cleared his throat. “But even this is far from my forte…”

“How could you think that this is a trick?!” Knockout shouted, repeating the same words from Starscream, as he stared intently at Arcee. Starscream recoiled in shock from the volume.

“Don’t you remember?” She hissed.

Knockout just stared, dumbstruck.

“Of course… you weren’t there.” She muttered, then louder. “This has happened before – with the Omega Keys – he faked his death in front of Optimus!”

Starscream blinked and so did Knockout.

“Oh yeah… I did do that.” Starscream mumbled. He did vaguely recall the clones that he made. Cannon fodder, really. Most of them didn’t last long, in fact they all died in the end. But that incident with the Omega Keys was ages ago! She couldn’t seriously still be hung over that?!

He moved closer to Arcee, taking full advantage of his ghostly presence and stood right next to her, smirking.

“Well…” He started “I assure you now Arcee, that this is ALL very real!”

Starscream threw his arms wide in mock grandeur, gesturing towards the ceiling, around Darkmount then towards his lifeless corpse. His arm did go through Arcees helm while doing so, drawing a shudder from her.

“No trick, not anymore” He smirked. Arms drawn back.

Her faceplate twisted in a way that was almost comical, but beneath the bravado, he caught the flicker of conflicting emotions — fear and disgust, and most deliciously, the bitter sting of shame.

And what a loss it is that…

His optics narrowed, something twitching violently beneath the surface. He tilted his helm, voice twisting into something almost amused - almost mournful.

He lifted his servo and swiped at her again — or tried to. His claws passed clean through her helm, leaving nothing but a visible shiver in their wake.

…you would never be able to respond.

He stared at his empty claws, something in his expression faltering. The laugh in his vocalizer withered before it ever left. And then—

“But this feels different!” Knockout’s voice cracked the thick silence, pulling Starscream from his inward spiral. “I don’t exactly know what you Autobots have gone through, but look at this! This- this is just barbaric! Heck- what reason does Starscream have to come here of all places?! There’s no clear motive. No logic. No plan.” He drew in a vent, faint fumes hissing out. His optics flicked behind him briefly, then returned to Arcee. “I… I just didn’t expect him to end up like this…”

He was standing now, his form tense, knee plates covered in energon – his energon. His optics grew wide almost as if he was surprised at his own words. He looked down his field swimming in apprehension. Optics flickering again. Starscream, could audibly see the gears turning in his head. Knockout was planning something, but what?

“You of all people should know that Starscream is a being full of deception.” Arcee said sternly, ripping Starscream back into the present. “This all must be some trick! Theres just no way! He could be hiding somewhere within this room right now! He’s trying to distract us from something!”

Knockout’s voice pitched higher as he swept a hand at the chamber. “Look around, Arcee! There’s nothing here but scrap and rust here! No trick, no ambush—just this.” He jabbed a finger toward the slumped Seeker’s body.

Arcee’s optics narrowed. “You don’t know that.”

Her servos flexed at her sides, the old soldier’s instinct gnawing at her. Without thinking, she drew her blaster and aimed it at the corpse again, the way one might aim at a shadow in the corner of their optic.

Knockout lifted his arm, but stopped before he could reach. His EM field slightly touching Arcees frame, he quickly drew back, but she quickly caught on.

“You want to say something Knockout? Spill it!” Arcee barked out. Her blaster still pointing at the corpse. A good distance was now placed between Arcee and Knockout. Both standing parallel to the throne.

Bumblebee drew away from the confrontation looking at the scene in front of him in fear. To an outsider it might seem that Arcee was being harsh – cruel even. But there were subtle signs: the way her blaster shook, the way her optics would dart between Knockout and ‘the corpse’. Her vents came out a bit too quick. Things that a normal mech wouldn’t notice except for Bumblebee. She was in pain. Arcee was in pain. But that pain was hidden underneath a vat of anger.

Knockout bit his dente together. Finally gathering the courage to speak. “I…I want to bring him back to base.” He stammered out.

Arcee blinked, then scowled. “And for what reason? It would be better to just leave him here to rot with the scraplets.”

Knockout clenched his servo in a fist. “He doesn’t deserve this… Primus, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst rival. If anything, he deserves a proper burial - and I wish to be the one to do it.” His stature hardened, his mask now back on place “Call it… professional pride.”

Her optics narrowed, a faint flicker of suspicion glinting within. “Why the sudden change of spark Knockout?”

He smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his optics. “Let’s just say I have my reasons. And I’m not in the mood to explain.”

She scowled but started to contemplate the situation, looking around for any signs of danger. Optics darting into the darkest corners of the room, as if expecting Starscream to come out and reveal his melodramatic plan. But nothing happened. Luna-1 still hung high, the silence juxtaposing the fear she felt. The longer the silence dragged on, the clearer it became: this wasn’t part of some larger scheme.

This… was just death.

She turned to look at Bumblebee, her optics burned with a tension that had nowhere to go. Bumblebee’s eyebrows drew deeply in concern. His own EM field rippled in response - anxious, afraid for her. Something within her optics dimmed as if a string had been snapped. She turned once more to stare at her blaster.

Then at Bumblebee.

Then at Knockout.

The tension was suffocating.

Arcee clenched her optics shut for a few beats and slowly lowered her blaster. Transforming it back into a servo. Her frame trembled faintly — just enough for Bumblebee to notice. Then, without a word, she turned away from Knockout and started walking. One servo was lifted to the side of her helm.

“Ratchet, we’re going to need a Groundbridge and make sure to prepare a berth in the medical area…” Her voice slowly getting quieter as she walked away from the scene.

A beat.

“Well… that’s one way to say yes.” Knockout said, trying to lighten the mood.

Bumblebee turned to look at her fleeting frame. Worry clouding his optics. He slowly started to walk after her-

“Don’t.” Knockout’s voice rang out.

It stopped Bumblebee in his tracks. He turned to look back at Knockout, who had a tense expression on his face.

“I know better than to mess with a bot like that… trust me.” He started, “It’s best to let her cool off. Now, c’mon help me carry him back to base.” He gestured his helm to Starscream’s corpse.

“I- Of course.” Bumblebee stammered.

He stumbled towards the throne as he waited further for Knockouts instructions. In doing so, he couldn’t help but tremble at the sight before him. It was beyond gruesome… he wasn’t even able to tell it was Starscream at first glance if not for the Decepticon branding on his ripped chassis. He winced as he saw the gaping hole in that same chassis. The innermost parts of his empty spark chamber were exposed, darkened in black.

“Well?” Knockout’s voice cut sharply through Bumblebee’s thoughts. “Are you going to help or not?”

The question ripped Bumblebee back into reality. He blinked, resetting his optics and gave a quick nod.

“Hm!” Was Knockouts response. “Well then… you grab the lower half while I carry the upper.”

Knockout - with newfound care - gently began to lift up Starscream’s helmless frame. Making sure not to aggravate the twisted wings any further. Bumblebee was fascinated by the amount of gentleness the new doctor was giving. From all the jabs and snide remarks he’d heard before, he had assumed that Knockout had a tense, antagonistic relationship with Starscream. But given the way Knockout had spoken about and treated Starscream made him think otherwise. Maybe there was more history between them than he’d realized.

Bumblebee crouched down, his vents drawing in a slow, bracing pull of air. The lower half of Starscream’s frame was cold — not the kind of cold from stasis, but the deep, unnatural chill of a spark long extinguished. His servos slid beneath the ruined plating, fingers brushing jagged edges where armour had been torn away.

The scent of scorched metal and faint burnt energon clung to the air, making his olfactory sensors twitch. Every step sent the frame swaying slightly, the weight uneven from missing plating and fractured struts. A hollow rattle echoed faintly inside — loose components shifting where the internal structure had collapsed. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what might have produced that sound.

Knockout hefted the upper half with a grimace. “Primus, he’s heavier than he looks. Mind the edges, Bee — I don’t want too many energon stains on my finish.”

Bumblebee gave him a flat look up and down but said nothing.

Knockout huffed when the scout didn’t reply. “What? You think I’m heartless? I do have respect for the dead — I just also have respect for my paint job.”

Bumblebee still didn’t answer.

“Honestly, it’s like talking to a wall with headlights,” Knockout muttered, shifting his grip as the corpse’s armplate scraped his forearm. “Fine. Silent treatment. See if I care.”

He just decided ignored him, focusing on simply getting the task done. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he already has.

The air felt… heavier here too, as though static clung to his plating. His EM field gave an involuntary twitch, though he didn’t know why. No one spoke, yet it was as if the silence itself was being watched. Somewhere just over his shoulder, the faintest distortion of heat shimmered, here and gone before his processor could register it.

“Arcee, is the Groundbridge ready?” he commed, keeping his voice steady.

“Yes, it’s ready.” A pause before she spoke further. “How’s the situation so far?”

“Nothing too bad. We’re just carrying the corpse back to base.”

“Good. Just so that you know, I am leaving all the explaining to Knockout. Just make sure to get him ready for that.”

“Of course.”

While Bumblebee was relaying the information to Knockout who gave a great gasp in reply, none of them noticed the ghostly presence that slowly followed behind.

Starscream had watched the whole interaction in silence, not bothering to cut any of them off. It felt wrong to do so. Either way he was intrigued by the sudden change in events. He hadn’t expected Knockout to react like that. Arcee and Bumblebee were predictable, but Knockout?

Starscream shot a thoughtful glance at his figure as he followed them through the dark hallways of Darkmount like a whisper. He’d never once taken Knockout as a sentimental fool. But then again… after the whole incident with Breakdown… perhaps there was more buried under that polished finish than he’d assumed.

“Arcee’s right y’know.” He spoke loudly to Knockout as he trotted beside him. “Why the sudden change? I didn’t expect you, of all people, to come running back.”

Silence was the reply. Not like that stopped him before.

“But I do appreciate your newfound softness.” He stated reluctantly. “Once I am rebuilt, I assure not to haunt you too badly.”

A bright green glow stopped Starscream rambling. He turned and noticed the ever-swirling Groundbridge coming into view.

“Well then…” He started. “Looks like I’ll see you on the other side, hm?”

…

They all soon went in.