"Right. It means small events can have large, whatchamadingit, ramifications. The idea is that if some guy kills a butterfly in China, maybe forty years later—or four hundred—there's an earthquake in Peru. That sound as crazy to you as it does to me?"

-11.22.63 by Stephen King

It was post-war in Iacon. Starscream was High Councilman in a strange turn of events while he kept Astatine from taking the Chair and running Iacon into the ground, and in a stranger turn of events, he was mated to the God of Time.

Vector Prime stood behind him, scaled down to the size of a mortal for the sake of both him fitting in the building and to "blend in". Honestly, with his strange accent (called "Angel Speak" by visiting Polyhexian slaves behind their Kaonian or even Iaconian masters) and stranger companion, blending in was hardly possible.

The companion was an invisible creature to every save Vector, though sometimes Starscream felt its presence, tugging at Vector every time he said he was going to warp. According to Vector, it was a genderless being, sheer and ribbed. The ribs were time itself, and every time Vector warped and accidentally changed something (as he sometimes did), a rib would crack and remodel. Time the being did not feel pain, but Starscream could not help but wince at the thought of his framework cracking every time something changed the future.

And he was thinking about it now.

"What if" became a thing he often sighed, face propped up in his claws as he stared out across Iacon. What if? What if he had chosen a different road? What if he had avoided Megatronus like the plague? What if...?

"You are thinking again," Vector observed. "Would you like to go for a vacation?"

Starscream's wings slowly lifted and he turned his helm. Vacation? He just got out of the hospital from an assassination attempt (thank you very much, Astatine). He had loads of work to do, though...he admitted that Thundercracker, Rodimus, and Nightshade had thrown themselves into the work, clearing it out and organizing things faster than one mech alone could. And he had just gotten out of the hospital.

"Where would you like to go?"

For Vector, it wasn't much as where on Cybertron, but when. He could go wherever and whenever he wanted. Once, Vector admitted he had pursued a vision all the way to a time where Cybertronians didn't exist and he had to find Starscream again. For the mortal world, Vector had only been gone for five, maybe six minutes, but to him...he had lost all eternity just to get it back again.

Starscream started thinking about the Polyhexian slaves that were in awe of Vector's voice. He started thinking about Vos, way back before the war. He started thinking about Kaon, when it was "the cleanest city on Cybertron" way back in the Bronze Age. But his thought returned right back to Polyhex.

Nebula, his daughter, was learning about Polyhex in school. She had told him about how Polyhex went from a box of slaves to a booming city to a booming city of slaves in less than an Age all due to the war. It was allegedly the most advanced city on Cybertron, even further ahead than Vos and Iacon. What was it like?

"How about...Polyhex in the Golden Age?"

Vector slowly reached out his servo and took the Seeker's own, bringing it to his mouth piece where he kissed the knuckles. "Okay."

Starscream watched as Vector opened a rift in the fabric of time, slicing it big enough for him and Starscream to pass through.

After the rift was a narrow walkway, surrounded on both sides by the past going one direction, the future going the other. Faces and voices filled the cooridor, and Starscream couldn't focus on any one thing before it was gone. How did Vector do this twenty times a week? He was always warping from one place to the next, even if it was across town. How did he manage it?

"Don't chase anything," Vector whispered, and he sighed. Starscream turned to look at him, and he saw Time.

Just as Vector described, it was a thin being, transparent, and with solid, misshapen ribs. It was pulling on Vector's servo, pulling him first towards one voice, and then to a face, urging him and begging him to run and lose himself in the commotion. Vector, however, walked at Starscream's pace: slow and unbothered.

"Polyhex," Vector sighed, stopping. Starscream looked around for an indicator that they had, in fact, reached Polyhex, but they were still in the cooridor, and no sign said anything about this being their stop. "Don't question me, Seeker. I know this is the place."

He opened a rift, and an alley became apparent. Of course Vector wouldn't warp them into the middle of the street. Back in the Golden Age, people didn't believe in gods and Primus. They thought that the Quints made them. So for Vector to warp into the middle of town...they would see him as an abomination and not a god. They would kill him, or rather, they'd try their best, but that would just offer confirmation bias that Vector, in fact...was a witch.

Starscream was lowered into the alley first, and before Vector could follow him, there was a horrific crack and both helms turned to Time, who stared at three broken ribs as they started remodeling. Vector touched them and stared.

"They are...reverting to their straightened position..."

"What does that mean?"

"It means...that we are going to mess with Time, but it will..set things back on a proper course."

Starscream frowned. "That's good..isn't it?"

Vector looked away from the ribs. "It is so long as we don't do anything else besides fix Time."

"And how do we do that?"

"I don't know. We haven't done it yet."

Why did immortals have to be so fragging complicated?

OOO

The first stop, per Starscream's request, was a bar, and he instantly regretted it.

He was the only Seeker in all of Polyhex.

"Every city has its 'ideal shape'. Kaonians are heavily armored, Iaconians are tall, Vosians are fliers, but Polyhexians...Polyes were called brutes for the longest time, and they were assumed to have a lower intelligence compared to the scholarly Iaconian and even the gladiators of Kaon, but actually...they are really big, really built, and are excellent slavers. However, they are also poets, some of the best medics, and specialize in building."

Starscream looked around in surprise. All that, in one culture? Before the beginning of the war?

One mech caught his fancy right away. He was talking Polyhexian with three friends, all of them holding drinks that bubbled and shivered like they were alive…or acid. Maybe they were acid?

Starscream had to investigate. He had attempted to do a sweep over, but the Polyhexian group he was "investigating" stared at his wings…and couldn't look away. The femme leaned forward and touched one, pulling him closer by it.

"Forgive her," the mech whispered. "She has never seen a Vosian."

"That's no problem," Starscream said. "People often stop me to see my wings."

The mech seemed to sigh with relief. "You speak Iaconian. I was told I should learn it due to it being the language of the future."

Iaconian? This was standard Cybertronian…

"She says your wings are pretty," he translated. "I am Siren." He offered his servo and Starscream took it.

"Starscream."

"Nice to meet you…Starscream." He smiled and shook his servo once. "How long are you staying in Polyhex? Maybe I can tour you around?" He smiled in such a friendly way that Starscream couldn't refuse.

"Sure…"

"Okay. I'll take you to a nice hotel, um…you like good views?"

OOO

Vector watched Starscream get ready to sleep. "Siren likes you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He thinks you could be a friend. He's never had a friend longer than a few months. How sad."

Starscream laid down on the berth and he sighed. This berth was soooo comfy…far comfier than sleeping on Vector's chest or sleeping in his own berth. This berth cradled him, keeping him warm and safe. Vector rubbed his wings into a relaxed position and he laid beside him.

"He is offering to take us on a tour of Polyhex," Starscream whispered.

"Yes. He is the official tour guide. Isn't that nice?"

"Mhm…"

"Good night, Starscream."