The last Seeker
Author: Arken
Translate by: Taipan Kiryu
Author's Notes: Darkness is coming. Thank you very much for your reviews, you have been very kind and encourage me to continue.
Chapter 7: Encounter With Death
Death…
An ephemeral concept, a simple name for what remains unknown. But no matter our race or origins, at the end we all head toward the same fate, or so I use to believe.
I knew that word wasn't born from my kind. Death was nothing more than a human word to describe the ending of a life, of a soul… or, in our case, a spark.
My hand touched the surface of my chest, the evidence of my recent battles very obvious on my wounded structure. Octane didn't say anything. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. But he didn't have to speak. His optics were so transparent; I could read through his thoughts just by the look of his exhausted glance.
If I could've told him everything I had seen during my life, since the days in the old Science Academy…
I returned my attention to my shattered wings. They were so destroyed it was obvious I wouldn't be able to use them anymore.
"Don't worry, Starscream, we will find a way to repair you," Octane said, interrupting my thoughts.
Should I have laughed or cried? Pride wasn't important anymore. There was no future for me. How could a Seeker exist without flying? I would be like a terrestrial bird inside a cage.
"It's useless," I said.
"Things will get better. At least we are home," the Triplechanger tried to cheer me up.
Octane was so sensitive. How could he be a Decepticon? Who created him, anyway? I was grateful I wasn't as easy to read like him.
"Home? This could never be home! That doesn't exist anymore, at least not for us!" I complained deviating my glance. I couldn't stand Octane being so positive when there were no reasons to be.
"But we are home, with our kind," the Triplechanger firmly continued.
He was so naïve…We were hated in Char, hopeless to survive and even less so in the condition I was. Why didn't I die? I should've gone with Thundercracker and Skywarp. Why didn't they allow me to join them again? My mind was so frustrated. I had no answers.
"Slag, Starscream! Some moments ago you were celebrating your victory and now you're whining! What's your problem?" Octane asked, his patience shaken.
"What's my problem?" I mocked. I could feel the wall behind my back. We were hiding inside an old abandoned structure, a temporary shelter. "It's over, Octane, that's my problem," I continued. Honestly, all I wanted was to depart and find peace.
"Don't be such a fool, that's not true…you're going to be alright and…"
I waved my hand, making him shut up. "Look at me! I'm done, condemned… unable to fly, to reach the stars, to be free… the entire purpose of my existence is over." Misery was present in every one of my words.
Was that sadness in Octane's face? Or was it… pity for me? I couldn't stand it. Inspiring compassion was the worst thing that could happen to me. Rage ate inside, just like old times, when everybody thought I was nothing more than a pathetic joke.
Scenes of my past, my life before the war, even my death, came to me as I realized there was a sick pattern. The insane Seeker, the one that never belonged anywhere, the weird military aircraft in a science academy… It never mattered how powerful I had been. The only one who ever understood me was Skyfire, and I had lost him.
Octane was worried, I could tell. He was trying to understand my disturbed mood. "I understand how you feel but we will find a way. This is only temporary," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
That gesture would have been appreciated by others for sure, but not me. I pushed his hand away immediately. I couldn't stand his touch, his compassion… I just wanted him to leave me alone. Why didn't he understand?
"Can't you see I won't be able to fly anymore!" I cried, trying to get up.
Octane frowned and pushed me back onto the floor. "All this whining for a couple of simple injuries? I thought you said you wouldn't die that easily!" he yelled in anger. He towered over me, but I wasn't impressed.
I felt defeated, but a part of me knew he was right. My damage was repairable, but we didn't have proper resources.
"I thought you were happy to return home, to your friends," I muttered maliciously. I wanted to hurt him.
He stepped back and stared at me, optics cold. "You are…" he started to say, but didn't finish.
He stayed thoughtful for a moment and then approached me again. His anger was evident, but also his self control. "I know your games, Starscream. You want to get rid of me. You always did these little schemes when you wanted to be alone. You are observant and intelligent, I give you that. You have a natural ability to manipulate others, but I assure you it won't work with me. It didn't before."
Damn.
"Now, I'm going to tell you the plans and you better listen," he continued.
Of all the Triplechangers in the universe, I had to have the more stubborn as a wingmate.
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"Where are they?" a furious question asked.
A grey and dark figure glanced at his surroundings. Metal creaked underneath his feet as his fists hit the walls.
An insane and tortured creature, paranoid and desperate... the effects of frustration and starvation taking the worst of him. The dents on the wall proved it. The mechs accompanying him were afraid, but were unable to run away. They wouldn't hide in the shadows like their brothers did.
"A group without any sort of union, a failure, an easy target," the grey mechanoid said, returning his attention to his subordinates. "That's what we are, a failed team, unable to move on," he continued, revealing his withered figure. The once glorious trailer who once rivaled the great Optimus Prime, was nothing more than a faded memory.
"We don't know what happened," one of his own kind spoke, his terrestrial structure visible. To a human's eyes his image would've been a glorious one. On his new world, it was a curse.
"Shut up, Breakdown," his leader ordered. Without the rest of their team, they didn't have many hopes for survival; their terrestrial origin had condemned them.
"They shouldn't have left alone…" he continued.
Time had gone by, the static in their com links reminding them of the absences.
"They are dead," Dead End spoke. He reflected darkness and depression. However, his fatalism allowed him to analyze things much deeper than anyone of his group. He considered death unavoidable and accepted it as his fate.
But Breakdown didn't share that opinion.
Motormaster thought about the future. They were on their own, condemned… his subordinates would figure it out too soon enough. They were doomed.
His mind was dazed… confused… overwhelmed by the hopeless surroundings. He was their leader, the head of a once glorious Gestalt team. He had duties, responsibilities to fulfill. The welfare of his Stunticons was top priority. Yes, they were doomed, but he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let others destroy his teammates. As their leader, that was his duty.
"Don't you understand, you slagging paranoid dolt? We've no chances for survival!" Motormaster shouted, roughly lifting Breakdown. The Lamborghini shivered but remained silent. Something inside his young spark told him the end was close. Motormaster's vicious fingers started ripping Breakdown's chest open in search of his spark.
Dead End witnessed the scene with pessimist attention. They were outcasts now, hunted only for their origins. Having been created from terrestrial vehicles, they never were respected by other Decepticons. There was some sort of logic in Motormaster's new paranoia and his sudden impulses to kill his own subordinates. By destroying them, he would save them.
Breakdown held Motormaster's arm in search of some last hope for salvation. "W-why…?" he whispered, his vocalizer barely able to speak under the brutal pressure of the trailer's grip.
Motormaster didn't reply. The Lamborghini would never understand. Why kill his own teammates? For honor, compassion… if someone had rights over their lives, it was him and him only, and no one was going to snatch that away from him. No one…
"Why don't you just accept your fate?" asked Dead End without moving an inch. He knew what was coming and accepted it. There was no valid explanation to justify his upcoming death, but he accepted it nevertheless.
Breakdown stared painfully at the pessimist Porsche. His friend, his brother…Please help me, Dead End… Breakdown couldn't speak. Motormaster's hands were crushing him.
Seconds before his spark extinguished, the Lamborghini accepted his unavoidable fate, but couldn't help a one last desperate plea. Why did you let me die this way, Dead End?
Dead End stared at the motionless body of his brother. What once had been Breakdown lay inert at his feet, like a broken toy.
Motormaster admired the results of his actions without any remorse. "He shouldn't have fought," he said, turning to face his new victim. "You're next, Dead End."
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What drives a leader to kill his subordinates? I don't know. Madness, desperation… there could be many reasons, but no one could explain what our former leader had done.
If only his decisions had been wiser…
I turned my attention toward Octane, who still hadn't stopped rambling about the things we would do from now on. I tried paying attention to his chatter about taverns and space ports, but I had so many things on my mind.
My intention had been to die… to join Skywarp and Thundercracker; that's why I didn't even consider a way to escape Charr. I knew it wasn't fair to Octane, but I thought he accepted a similar fate when he decided to follow me.
But what he said to my former wingmates… it was disturbing. He acted and talked in a way that was against everything a Decepticon should be. He defied all coldness of our programming. I guess I was lucky to have found him.
"Being a freighter ship is not that bad, Starscream, and somebody like you could be very useful in delivering valuable shipments…" I suddenly heard him say.
I stared at Octane. He was waiting for an answer but I didn't have anything to tell him. I wasn't attracted to spending the rest of my days as a freighter ship.
The last words from my former wingmates were still in my head. I still had mistakes to redeem…
"How much do I still have to pay! Slag!" I cried in desperation, pounding the ground with my fists.
Once again I had been temperamental. Thanks to my mistakes, Octane and I were trapped in that slag hole.
Octane witnessed my reaction with bewilderment, a gesture I was getting use to seeing on his face.
"What!" I demanded, trying to control my temper. It wasn't his fault, but I was so frustrated…
"Nothing," he replied, turning his glance away from me. "I don't think we'll find anything useful here," he continued absent mindedly.
It was his way of telling me to change the subject. It was somehow amusing how we had managed to recognize our tones of voice and gestures after so little amount of time as wingmates. It had to happen, I suppose.
"We must leave then. We're close to the next sector," I said, stretching out my left leg. The immediate pain told me I obviously had some damage in my knee joints.
"Slag," I muttered, leaning against the wall to gain relief for my aching limb. "I need to find a way to walk without using my leg or I will completely lose it!"
Octane folded his arms. "I've been thinking, Starscream…"
He stopped, waiting for some acid remark but it never came. The pain didn't allow me to have my usual arrogance. Instead, I looked at him questioningly. "Yes?"
"You had no intention to survive, do you?" he said after a moment of silence.
I stared at him seriously. I never thought he could ask me something like that. Seemed my mental patterns were not in the best of conditions lately.
"I thought you knew," I affirmed. Cowardly, I didn't dare look at his optics.
"I met one mech who thought that way," he continued getting closer to me. "He just talked about that… I think that was one of the reasons that made me desert. He was too young to have those kinds of thoughts. I remember I listened to his ideas for long periods of time… I didn't know what to say… it was then I realized he couldn't talk of anything else because death was all he knew."
As he talked, Octane put his arm behind my back and allowed me to lean on him. I thanked his help with a slight nod. My left leg was even more grateful.
"You're talking about Dead End," I said as we started to walk.
"Affirmative. I wonder if he's still out there…" Octane stared out at the horizon. Everything remained the same, grey and depressive.
I couldn't tell. I had no idea if Dead End and the rest of the Stunticons were still functional, but if any group had what it took to survive, they were definitely it. They were always a powerful Gestalt team. They had to be alive. When they merged into Menasor they were powerful and feared. Lucky them, who were created to be exclusive.
"The Stunticons are young but they have many chances for survival," I said.
"I guess…" Octane, replied his voice doubtful. "Their terrestrial origin never helped them, though. They were never accepted as real Decepticons. When I lived here I use to talk to them a lot, except to Motormaster."
"Why your sudden interest in the Stunticons?" I finally asked, my curiosity awakened.
Octane didn't reply. I suppose he didn't want openly express his thoughts.
"Are you planning to look for them, Octane?" This time I wouldn't let the Triplechanger change the subject.
"I… well… I thought if somebody could help us… it would be them," he muttered.
"And so we are back to eloquence, aren't we?" I replied ironically as I pushed Octane away. "I don't need you to support me. I can walk on my own."
Obviously my reaction bothered him. When he spoke again, his voice was clearly offended. "Yes, we are back to eloquence," he said, offering me his support again.
"I really have no idea of what the fark goes on inside your brain, Octane. Leave! Go away and find your Stunticon friends! I don't need you!" I shouted. I tried to support my weight on my left leg but the pain immediately marked my mistake. "Slag!"
Octane smiled. "You're like a grumpy brother," he said, easily carrying me in his arms.
"What the slag do you think you're doing!" I yelled furiously.
"You are and will always be my friend, Starscream. I…" he started but stopped abruptly when a big, impressive grey figure crashed through the wall.
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Dead End didn't feel compassion. He had seen the pledge in Breakdown's optics but didn't do anything to help him.
The Stunticon leaned on the motionless figure of his brother, sprawled among a puddle of energon. It was horrible, but it was real. He grabbed his arm and shook it, looking for some signal of life.
I let Motormaster kill him in front of me and I didn't do anything… The terrified expression on Breakdown's face returned to his mind, as clear as it had been some moments ago.
"I'm a murderer," muttered Dead End. "I'm a murderer because I didn't stop it." Anguish filled the Stunticon's spark as he held the body of his former teammate.
A movement… something vibrated… "Breakdown, are you still…"
Dead End couldn't finish. "It was fate," Motormaster interrupted him.
The Porsche didn't pay his leader attention. All that mattered was Breakdown. But the brutal hit on his back took him out of his thoughts.
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It was very surprising to see the furious Motormaster violently making his way out through the wall. His hands were damp of energon. His optics… ambiguous. It seemed he couldn't see us, until Octane spoke.
"M-motormaster…. what are you doing?" he asked, leaning me against the wall.
The Stunticon leader stared at us. Insanity could be read in his optics. It was impossible to tell what was going on inside his processor. All I could perceive was madness and brutality.
"So it is true. You're still alive, Starscream," he said, smirking evilly.
"Damn!" It was all I could say before his fist attempted to connect with my face. Fortunately I managed to step back using my right leg as support.
"I'll kill you both!" he cried, pouncing toward us.
"I don't think so!" I replied, activating my damaged sword. No matter what happened, I would not let that psychopath destroy me.
My weapon activated just on time to slice his hand, but he didn't retreat. It was like he couldn't feel the pain or just didn't care. His own energon mixed with his victim's. He had decided to kill me. I didn't have a chance. His strength outmatched mine. I was tired and wounded.
I attacked again, hurting him twice. My sword penetrated him, slicing through his vital circuits, but he continued reaching for my neck.
"What is wrong with you!" I cried. I knew Motormaster had never been the most stable Decepticon, but he had never been suicidal.
"Just a little bit more… and everything will be over!" he said as he finally grabbed my neck with both hands. Pain and hurtful memories made me flinch. Megatron used to do the same frequently. It was his way of subduing me… through pain and humiliation.
My spark reacted to the memory. I retrieved my sword from his massive body and directed it toward his arms.
"Soon there will be no more pain," Motormaster said, his voice suddenly merciful.
Was I suffering from delirium? His strength was brutal. I felt the warmth of the energon coming from the wound my sword had caused him.
Recovering from the surprising momentum, Octane pounced on the trailer and threw him to the other side of the shattered street. Motormaster got up immediately but the Triplechanger was faster and shot his missile.
Octane and I fell to the ground, taking cover as best we could. A bright light illuminated the area. Pieces of steel raised in random directions. The fog and heat were very intense, but we waited for the fire to die down before getting up again.
When the fog dissipated we could only see an empty space. Had Motormaster been completely destroyed? Did he manage to escape? It really didn't matter now.
"That psychopath…" muttered Octane.
I retrieved my sword, which was lying some meters away from me.
Octane walked toward the big whole in the wall Motormaster had opened and found the wounded figure of Dead End laying on the floor. The Triplechanger was in shock. Weren't the Stunticons teammates… brothers? How could Motormaster have done that to one of his own?
From my position I could see Dead End was injured, but still not close to total deactivation. He seemed confused, still trying to understand why his own leader had tried to kill him. Suddenly I realized what could have happened to the rest of the Stunticons.
"Damn that Galvatron! This is all his fault! We shouldn't be killing each other! We shouldn't be living like this!" cried Octane furiously, his voice contrasting the softness of his touch as he picked Dead End up in his arms.
I realized something suddenly. Dead End had never meant anything to me, just a warrior like the others. But he was too young to die.
"I understand now, Starscream," continued Octane. "You knew what would happen but no one of us listened to you."
"Give me your tools," I replied, ignoring him.
The Triplechanger carefully placed Dead End beside me, pulling his repair kit out from his subspace.
"This will take some time so keep guard," I ordered, focusing on the injured Stunticon. I was tired of facing death. The time for doubts and complaints was over. All I knew was that I had a life to save.
Octane nodded and gripped his flamethrower. He started to patrol the surroundings, heading toward one of the buildings.
"Starscream… I found Breakdown… he doesn't look good…"
"Pick him up and bring him here. I'll see what I can do. I'm not a medic but I know about field repairs."
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So we had another two comrades on our team. Dead End would recover but I couldn't say the same about Breakdown. Without an expert to attend to him, he didn't have much hope. My repairs had managed to stabilize his spark but I couldn't do much more for him.
All I knew was that we couldn't abandon him, as Megatron would have without hesitation. I would've done it too, before… I used to think that way, but not today.
