AN: I was very slowly rewriting a similar story, which had been on my old account, and realised that I didn't really like it. I tossed the rewrite idea and began writing something based off of the first one. I'm hoping to keep this updated at least every other day, but I can never tell because of my computer.

Fair warning, there will be a lot of oddities in this story. This series is going to take place on Cybertron and throughout the story is G1 with live action references (mostly the Decepticon's 'claws' because I find that more frightening and better fitting for the story). There maybe hints of Skyfire/Starscream as well.

Feedback would be awesome, if I can be honest. I'd love to hear what you guys think so remember to review. No pressure though. =)

Chapter oo1

Helms rested on stakes, they remained hollowed out by the ones that slain them. It was their way; you may take a trophy for the world to see, as long as you make it so. However, all knew that if you did, you must bring back the corpse, not just the helm, for the spare parts that may be used to treat the wounded. Then, you take your trophy and you set it so all that come near the base, they see what you have done in the name of the cause. That is the way of the Decepticons and that is what each that follow the cause must do.

A building that they were using as the base stood directly behind the graveyard, the doors opened and the long hall empty. However, the rooms attached were not. Behind one door, in the room, there he sat with a fresh kill ripped apart on a work bench. In slender servos was the helm of a victim, talons deep within it and parts lay scattered at his feet.

Talons ripped through the wires and chips of a trophy's brain matter, he never took his optic sensors off of his prize. He'd done well that day, offlined more than two Autobots and injured countless others. He'd chosen his trophy after careful consideration and now he hooked a finger through a few looped wires, swiftly ripping the components out of the helm. He was careful, though, wanting to keep those beautiful blue lens that would light up in the sunlight. Like many of his companions in this army, he wanted those who knew this pathetic mech to know it was him and those optics were the key.

Leaning close, he scanned over the helm to make certain that he'd gotten all of the bits out. Spotting a few last pieces, he shoved a digit inside and dragged it around the inner-workings. There were sparks and parts falling, leaving nothing but an echoing screech and discarded bits that now rested on the metal floor at his feet. It is a long and difficult job but it needs to be done for his trophy to be complete, then he needed to step up the display for it. Really it was more complex that actually killing the slagging 'bot.

Not long after he had finally finished his work. He sat the helm down on the worktable and studied it, idly wondering if this mech's mate would come for revenge and if he could take that one too. He hoped it was the case, only because no other Decepticon had mate trophies and he did like to be better than the rest. It was a hobby, really, and he did enjoy it the most out of all his new found ones as a member of this cause. Although, if he could be honest, he really didn't care about the cause. He just wanted revenge, a place to belong, and the leader offered just that.

With graceful movements, he was off the bench with his trophy tucked under his arm. He turned to the door and exited the room, nearly bumping into one of the officers. He was almost certain that the masked mech sneered at him, so he flashed a smirk, one that read that he was better than him, and held his head up high as he advanced down the long hall. He could see the exit, where their trophy case was currently located, and quickened his pace. He ran into no more Decepticons on his way out, surprising since the death toll of the last battle.

He stood among the trophies of those before him and his own, scanning the area for a free stake close to his own area. He was surprised at the sight of his own case, how fast it was filling up and how easy it had become to change from a loud-mouth scientist to a killer. It was too easy, he realised upon discovering a place. He advanced over and gingerly arranged his prize for all to see. He was so careful after taking all that time to repair and hollow out the thing, to keep it nice and neat for its mate.

Stepping back, he admired his work and nearly glowed with happiness. It looked beautiful, far more beautiful than any other but it could possibly be because this was one of the enemy that had denied him a simple request. This was one of the few that caused him to take up this new, dark path of his life. It was so beautiful, so perfect, and no one could take this from him. Even the footsteps that were closing in on him from behind, not that they would worry him any other time. He didn't even bother to turn when he felt a hand on his shoulder vent.

"Thundercracker," he greeted with a grin in the direction of his trophy. "I see you still have no trophy, even though I swear I saw you turn some scum into slag."

The blue jet said nothing as he slipped his arms around the trine commander's neck. He nuzzled and showed affection, while the tri-coloured one tensed and pushed away mentally. He picked up on it and turned his head, optics focused on the perfectly crafted wings. "You are turning cold, Starscream," he spoke quietly. "He wouldn't have liked that."

"Does it matter now," he muttered, something lurking under the seemingly annoyed tone. "He is long gone. Dead by now, no thanks to those pit-spawn-"

"Skywarp is worried that this is all too soon for you."

"Oh, so he's intelligent enough to be concerned about someone now?"

Thundercracker growled, "Don't be like that."

"Why," the other seeker ripped himself from the grasp of his wing-mate. He turned and would have pushed right through him, if he hadn't moved out of the way just in time. "Because it might upset him," he continued as he headed for the door to enter his new home. "I don't know if you realise this or not, Thundercracker, but he is no longer alive to upset. I am no longer his problem and he is not mine."

"Don't push us out, Starscream," the blue jet called after his trine leader. "You need us as much as we need you."

Starscream paused in the doorway, a scowl taking over his expression. "I need no one," he snapped before advancing through the doors and headed down the hall. He left his wing-mate behind, his spark pulsing with mixed emotions that he pushed away. Emotions were not designed for his new path, they would only get in his way. He could risk allowing those morons close and he certainly could risk thinking of his past, because he wasn't that mech any more and could never be again.