Disclaimer: Do not own much.
IX
As soon as I landed on the topmost flight deck of my tower and entered the threshold, I spotted Thundercracker down the corridor, pacing about anxiously. He turned when he heard Ramjet and I walking toward him, and rushed forward to meet us halfway.
Glancing at Ramjet, my blue trine mate nodded respectfully. However, he made no address, prompted to haste as he was by the urgency of the situation.
"What happened?" I asked as soon as he became within auditory range.
"A few breems ago, Skywarp returned to Vos with Firechaser in tow," Thundercracker explained, and I felt my optics widen. "They teleported straight into the Grand Hall, and Nightfire was contacted immediately upon their appearance."
Thundercracker's wings were trembling, much like his lips. His optics were brighter than usual, and his brow ridges furrowed into a shaky frown. However, I barely took notice. Shock made my processors stall, followed by the question of why Skywarp of all mechs was with Firechaser. Thundercracker looked like he wanted to say more, but I cut in, shaking my helm in disbelief:
"How did—How did Skywarp find Firechaser?"
"I don't know," His optics flickered away, and stared forward intently as if to avoid meeting my inquiring gaze. "…Should we…make our way to meet Nightfire in the med bay?" He asked, evading my question. "I don't know the details of the situation, but I'll tell you what I know along the way."
I nodded, and immediately led the way to the med bay. Thundercracker, out of habit, flanked my right wing, while Ramjet took my vacant left.
"Speak," I ordered when Thundercracker did not start his explanation right away. I was rather annoyed that he would follow rigid protocol at a time like this. "Hurry."
"I was informed of the current situation by Skywarp. He comm.-ed me after his arrival at the Grand Hall," Thundercracker began, and took in a wavering cycle of air through his intakes. "I'm not sure why he was with Firechaser. He refused to talk to anyone, saying he will only speak to you directly."
"Where is he?" I asked tersely, irritated by all the mystery shrouding the answers to my questions.
"In our common quarters," Thundercracker replied, but a private comm. over our trine link reached me at the same time as his outspoken words. :He's in his usual confinement room by your order of arrest, Starscream.:
I winced, and felt like spitting out curse words. I had completely forgotten that there was still an arrest order placed over Skywarp's helm. I was surprised my purple trine mate did not simply teleport away before the guards could reach him. From the way Thundercracker sounded over our trine link, I could tell he was frustrated with me for not lifting the arrest. However, I was glad he chose to be discreet. Our trine's quarrel and Skywarp's escape were a secret to most fliers, which included Ramjet.
"I'll find him as soon as I have a grasp of what's happened with Firechaser," I responded aloud as we turned a corner. "What's Firechaser's current status?"
Thundercracker did not answer immediately. I glanced back, and saw him biting his lips, optics downcast.
"TC?" I urged him, and he almost startled.
"Firechaser…is in critical condition, currently under intensive repair," Thundercracker ran another cycle of air through his system. "He was unconscious when he was brought in. From what I could see before he was carried off, he suffered many severe injuries, many of which…looked very odd."
"Odd?" Ramjet echoed, as confused as I was.
"..Affirmative," Thundercracker paused, and grimaced as he sought for the right words to describe what he had seen. "I don't know what to make of them, Sire. They were—…They covered his frame, and many of them…were directly inflicted to his inner circuitry."
"What do you mean?" I asked, unable to comprehend what Thundercracker was suggesting.
"Well…in some cases, his plating was cleanly removed." Thundercracker almost tripped on the stairs in his haste to match my light steps as we descended a level. "And everything looked very precise, Starscream…" His deep voice quietened, and became a low whisper, "I—…I really don't know what to make of them. I'm no expert in injury inspection, but it looked as though his injuries were—…" He trailed off for a moment, and his vents spluttered in a sigh. "…His injuries…looked surgical, your Highness…"
My hands clenched into tight fists by my sides, and I clenched my jaws, optics staring determinedly ahead of me.
"…I've never seen anything like it, Star…" My blue trine mate carried on to elaborate, and his usually calm and smooth voice shook much like Nightfire's when I received the Space Shuttle's comm.. "Many of Firechaser's medical ports had their cover panels severed off, and there was strange residue in most of them. His helm plating…was barely there." Thundercracker shuddered beside me, "…I could see into his processor units…"
I heard my trine mate take another heavy cycle of air through his system, and felt like doing the same. My spark was strumming rather erratically in my spark chamber, and I had to forcefully quell down its flaring wave of dread and unease. This was no time to submit to the whims of one's spark. I needed clear processors to assess the situation.
Turning a final corner, we reached the wide hallway leading to the med bay. Just before entering its doors, I stopped. There was one more thing I needed to know.
"…What of his wings, Thundercracker?" I did not particularly want to know, but based on how Nightfire had reacted to the sight of them, I reasoned it was a good idea to be prepared before seeing the damage myself. Besides, such clues could be vital in determining the nature of the attack – that was how my logic circuits justified my increasing nervousness, at least.
Almost instantly, Thundercracker averted his gaze, and he bit his lips so hard I was worried he might draw energon. His wings made harsh jerks on his back, and his intakes hitched with a forceful inhale of air.
"…His wings…" My blue trine mate's voice was hushed, and I felt waves of pain from his spark over our trine bond. "…His wings…were—…" He could not continue, and abruptly turned away, offlining his optics. His hands rose shakily, and he rubbed his faceplate as he tried to gather himself.
"…I'm no medic, Star," He finally managed to croak out, "…but I don't know if Firechaser will be able to fly again…"
His choked, whispered answer hit me straight in the spark. I felt an almost physical impact, as though I had been stabbed in the spark chamber. My lips fell slightly apart, and I involuntarily gasped, freezing still and silent for several kliks.
"H-How's that…possible?" I stuttered, and shook my helm in disbelief. "…Fliers can have their wings reattached, for Primus's sakes! And what can possibly be worse than having your wings torn off?" My voice rose in pitch, and my fists tightened further.
Thundercracker visibly flinched, and he soundly took a few more cycles of air. He never met my gaze even as he fought to straighten his somewhat slouched posture, and glanced around distractedly. "…Perhaps I'm—overreacting. I apologize." He looked at the doors to the med bay, and gave them a weak, tentative wave. "We should go in, Star. Nightfire's already inside, and he can use some support."
I stared at my trine mate for a lengthy moment longer before I relented with a nod, and slowly turned toward the doors. I reached for the keypad, and tapped against the buttons, feeling as though I was half in recharge, or submerged in a strange hallucination. The doors slid open with a swift "whoosh" that effectively made me start, and, the next instance after, I was greeted by the sight that would forever change the fate of my city, and of those who inhabited it.
Thundercracker was honest in his assessment of Firechaser's status, but there was much he decided to leave out. I immediately understood why as I stood at the entrance of the med bay, gaping in horror. There were no words that could adequately describe the amount of excruciation Firechaser had gone through, practically leaving his frame a twisted corpse of remains. The scent of energon and chemicals was strong. It was a wafting wave that eroded out of the med bay as soon as its doors parted, and engulfed my company and me with its thick, tangy fume.
The sight was perverse, and I immediately wanted to run away, spark reeling in horror too strong to withstand. However, my peds remained rooted to the floor, and my optics were glued to Firechaser's frame, unable to turn away.
Many of Firechaser's medical ports were naked, lying exposed for all to see. The very few that remained unseen were only covered due to the cables plugged into them, monitoring his systems and health status. My tank gave a painful churn when I realized that some of his ports could not even be used anymore, blackened and charred from repeated forceful entry. The machines meant to connect to those ports were silent and cold, and their cables dangled by their sides, limp and unmoving.
Much of Firechaser's plating was blatantly missing. With no small amount of dread and disgust, I realized that the little he had on was not originally his at all. They were a dull, protoform gray, too thick and dense to have naturally belonged to him, a Seeker. His motor cables, fuel lines, and many other patchworks of inner circuitry lay unprotected, crisscrossed by various lacerations. Some of his inner components were sliced apart, dissected, and were currently being repaired by the nimble fingers of medics. Some had to be taken out completely, and were in the process of being replaced, no longer functional due to the deeper wounds.
Firechaser's entire chassis was open on display, and I had to tenaciously bite back a wave of nausea that threatened to upturn my tank when I saw just how much internal damage he had sustained. Many of his vital components were drenched in an unidentified, liquidy substance, and the medics were draining it from his insides. It made revolting, squelching noises, partly splattering in half-dried, slimy chunks and partly splashing like diluted coolant. Its smell was foul, and even with my extensive scientific knowledge, I could not place on it a designation.
Unable to stand the sight of Firechaser's chassis any longer, I glanced away, and my optics landed on his helm. Just as Thundercracker had informed me, much of his plating was gone, revealing his central operating system. There was a medic working on his processor units, and, for a long moment, I could not figure out just what he was doing. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the medic was sealing closed tiny, inward incisions. Their implication was overwhelming – whoever did this to Firechaser was forcing cables into his processors. I averted my optics. I could no longer watch the medic fix such invasive damage. I was beginning to feel faint, and quickly turned my attention elsewhere.
To his wings.
I saw his wings, and my spark almost extinguished from the horrification that squeezed the essence of my being in a tightening grasp.
His wings…remained on his back, but they were barely so, tilting at an awkward angle. Due to his position, I could not tell how much of his wing joints were still in tact, but I knew they were close to being ripped clean off, possibly dangling by mere cables. However, even such terrible fact was not the cause of my dismay. It was the apparentness of numerous past removals and replacements of his wing plating. The different shades of gray did not match, and if the glimpses of delicate flight systems peaking through were any indication, Firechaser had endured multiple wing injuries as well, repeatedly.
My entire frame began to shake. Sheer fury and fear shot through my system, and fought for dominance in my spark.
The wings of a flier were his life, his freedom, his very spark.
To see the pride of my kin so brutally mutilated was…an agony quite unlike anything I have felt before…
…Firechaser's wings…were torn. Scorch marks accompanied every gaping, weeping wound, implicating that they were inflicted by weapons. However, this was obviously not the first time Firechaser had received these injuries. His wings, after being practically destroyed by gunfire, had been grotesquely repaired, only to be placed through the same torment over and over again. There was no care or comfort in the patch-jobs, only that they returned flight to my Seeker, just so his tormentors could once again take it away.
I then understood why Nightfire had cried. This was not an attack, but deliberate, carefully orchestrated torture, one Firechaser had been callously put through in succession.
How terrified he must have been? How much pain he must have suffered through? How much terror? How much despair…and hopelessness?
Firechaser was so young, so naive…a Seeker with such a bright, promising future. His wings always flicked up and down in happiness when he did his experiments, and his optics had shone so vibrantly when I presented him the medal in congratulation and recognition of his many achievements.
My wings began to tremble, and I stiffly turned away, tearing my gaze from the mutilated frame of the young flier. My optics, in their attempts to remain distracted, caught sight of Nightfire, who was seated at the edge of the med bay. The black Space Shuttle held his helm in his hands, and his faceplate was hidden in the shadows that covered his folded form. His wings shook violently, the most visible of tremouring in his frame, and he made no sound, at least none that could be heard over the busy tinkering of the medics. I wondered if he had contacted Firechaser's creators about the current situation yet, and almost winced when my spark gave a responding jolt of hurt. How was Nightfire supposed to inform them that their creation, a Seeker they would always see as a vulnerable, most cherished sparkling, had been continuously tortured to the brink of deactivation only to be brought back and placed under the same torment all over again?
I slowly made my way toward Nightfire's hunched over form, and carefully rested a hand on the top edge of his right wing. He immediately flinched, and his wing joints stiffened. His helm jerked in my direction, and he almost looked up at me. However, he only froze, and his intakes made an audible, sharp hitch.
"It's just me, Nightfire," I spoke softly, and gently rubbed his wing until he finally seemed to have relaxed by a minute degree. His shaking resumed, and he released a deep sigh through his vents, helm lowering further. His shoulders shivered, and, for a few kliks, he kept his silence. A long moment passed, and he finally straightened a little, and tiredly rubbed his faceplate before turning toward me.
"You Highness," He greeted in a voice barely above a whisper, and made a small bow. His faceplate was inclined in my direction, but his optics remained downcast, brimmed by lingering moisture. His cheek plates glistened where he had failed to hastily wipe the tear tracks clean, and his lips quivered as he parted them to speak further, but he could not. The silence stretched a little too long, and he hurriedly turned away with a jerky tilt of his helm. He remained speechless, and fought to stop the uneven hitching of his intakes.
I bit my lips, and reached for his other wing, fingers carefully stroking his flight sensors. The gesture was extremely intimate for a Seeker, usually only used within the trine. However, Nightfire was a Space Shuttle. He had no trine, and consequently had no trine mates to offer such comfort and support. I figured he would greatly appreciate both sentiments at the moment, and I highly doubted my trine mates would mind.
"…We will find out who had committed such a crime to Firechaser, Nightfire," I promised, tone soothing but optics narrowing in determination, "and they will pay dearly."
Nightfire did not reply. He only nodded, and returned to hiding his faceplate behind his hands.
"…Firechaser is a strong Seeker. He will pull through." I did not know what else to say, looking over Nightfire's defeated, grief-stricken form. "If he's braved through everything until now, he will undoubtedly make a full recovery." I spoke with certainty, and gave the Nightfire a small, reassuring squeeze on a wing. "Believe in him," I instructed, and hoped my words would encourage the Space Shuttle. However, he only shrank further into himself, and furled his limbs as though to physically protect himself from the pain.
"…A full recovery is what I'm worried about, Sire," He whispered, and his frame tensed. "How do we help him after all visible injuries have healed?"
I pressed my lips together, and looked away to the far wall. I had nothing to say. I had no answer. There was nothing I could do to help Firechaser beyond making sure he received the best medical care in Vos.
I could send in the medics. I could dispatch my soldiers. I could capture the culprit, and place him under the worst torture imaginable for vorns as punishment for his hideous actions.
I could destroy the mech responsible for such depravity, but, in reality…what good would that do?
I lowered my helm.
Nothing I could do would bring back Firechaser's innocence.
I moved my hand to Nightfire's wing joints, and tried to ease their tension. The gesture did not quite work, but the trembling in Nightfire's wings had lessened. I could not imagine what the future meant for Nightfire and Firechaser. The amount of trauma Firechaser's spark bore was overwhelming to think about, and Nightfire and his family unit were the only ones who could attempt to gather the pieces.
"…I'll kill him…the one who did this to Firechaser." Ramjet's voice, bitten back and low with dark, suppressed anger, cut through the sound of tinkering medical tools, "I'll tear out his spark with my bare hands!" Nightfire's wings immediately hiked up higher on his back upon hearing those words, and I had to physically restrain myself from lashing out at the Conehead.
As much as I agreed with Ramjet's sentiments, he had just undone all my efforts at trying to calm Nightfire down.
"Now's not the time, you fool!" I glared at the white and black Seeker, voice kept low only to not startle the medics, "If you really want to help, come sit by Nightfire."
Ramjet did not meet my optics, still unable to look away from the sight of Firechaser's mangled body. It took several kliks for him to finally reign in his raging emotions, and contain his fury to a heated simmer. Casting Firechaser one last, pain-filled glance, he turned on his peds, and walked toward Nightfire and me. He plopped down on the other side of the Space Shuttle, and gave his shoulder a pat and a firm squeeze.
"Rub his wings," I instructed with a small jerk of my chin, "I need to speak with Skywarp, so I'm entrusting Nightfire's wellbeing to you. If he needs anything, you are to bring it to him."
Ramjet's optics widened, and he suddenly grew flustered.
"…D-Do I have to rub his wings?" He looked awkwardly embarrassed, and I wanted to swat his helm.
"Yes, you dolt! He has no trine mates, and this situation is too sensitive to be let known to his family unit yet, which means he has no one to be here with him and keep him company!" I hissed, annoyed by Ramjet's childishness. "Rub his wings and rub them good, got it?" I ordered snappishly, and leveled him with a firm glare.
"Affirmative, your Princeship…" Ramjet grumbled, but he cast a look of concern toward Nightfire's faceplate. Reaching over, he replaced my fingers with a palm, and started to rub circles.
Reassured for the time being, I cycled air through my intakes, and turned away. Catching Thundercracker's attention with a small flick of a wing, we left the med bay, and headed for the confinement chambers. Thundercracker looked very relieved to be leaving, and I could not find it in my spark to blame him. After all, the atmosphere in the med bay was downright suffocating, and the amount of pain weighing down the air would make any flier's spark shrink within his spark chamber. Besides, – I cast my blue trine mate a worried glance – Thundercracker was too sensitive a flier to be faced with such a sight for long.
"Has Skywarp mentioned anything to you?" Now that Ramjet was no longer with us, I asked verbally, and broke the tense silence.
"I think he wanted to," Thundercracker replied, sounding somewhat breathy, "but I…I couldn't…" He shook his helm, and looked away. "I was in too much shock to handle anything else aside from getting Firechaser to the med bay."
I nodded, and did not further my questioning. The rest of our journey was without words, silent until we reached the gates leading to the confinement rooms. Halting our steps, I turned to my blue trine mate, and carefully reached around him, gently wrapping my hands around the bottom edges of his wings. His intakes hitched in a deep breath of air, and his optics flickered offline when I slid my thumbs over his flight sensors. He leaned down, touching the fronts of our helms together, and released a deep, shuddering sigh through his vents.
"…I'm just overwhelmed…" His voice was so soft that I could hardly believe it had come from his deep, rumbling vocalizer. "I fear…that this is much bigger than I can understand at once." His optics brightened in a flash, but they quickly dimmed as he gazed at me, faceplate overcome by dark shadows of worry. "Firechaser's injuries are far too calculated for his aggressor to have simply been a deranged ground pounder."
I froze.
Thundercracker had voiced my exact thoughts, thoughts that I was not ready to face just yet.
"…What's going to happen, Star?" He asked, and his words held an imploring note. "What if…What if this is the beginning of something much more than anything we've had to encounter? No citizen of Vos had been actively harmed since the beginning of the Golden Age. What could this mean for us?"
I immediately lowered my optics, and pressed my lips tightly together. I did not trust my vocalizer to speak, and I did not want to see the emotions plaguing my own spark mirrored in my blue trine mate's optics.
Thundercracker slowly lifted his hands, and they were shaking as he placed them on my hips. The action surprised me a little, as it was too intimate even for those within a trine. I felt slightly uncomfortable, not used to Thundercracker of all mechs to initiate such an assertive gesture. However, all it took was a glance at his averted optics for me to understand that he was simply far too troubled to care about such trivialities. He needed an anchor, so he took what he needed, and, with a small start, I realized that perhaps he was not as meek as I had always believed him to be.
"I'm afraid of what I might hear in there, Star," He continued to speak when I did not answer, and his optics stared at the closed gates leading to the confinement rooms as though he could see past them. "The fate of many may change depending on what Skywarp tells us within the next few breems…"
The statement hung in the air like an ominous warning, and I fought back a shiver. I did not like how quickly my blue trine mate was buckling under the pressure, so I gave his wings a tiny squeeze to gain his attention, and he instantly looked back at me.
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Thundercracker," I kept my voice as even and smooth as possible, trying to offer him, through my words, more strength than I felt. "You always get ahead of yourself, worrying over things you don't yet know anything about." He immediately started to look ashamed, so I hastily gave him a small smile. Though it shook, it seemed to have lifted some of the shadows darkening his faceplate. "You're thinking too much, TC. Don't." I held his wings firmly in my hands, "I need my sensible trine mate to stop me from reacting impulsively to what I might hear in there."
He gazed back at me for a few moments longer, and, finally, his expression softened into a small smile. He nodded at me, and I nodded back before pulling away from his loose embrace. Turning to the gates, I entered the pass-code, and took a cycle of air before leading us through. Right away, the guards greeted us, and one of them offered to show us the way to Skywarp's room. It was a purely customary gesture. My purple trine mate has always had a knack for trouble, and I could confidently say that he was the only Seeker in Vos who could boast of having a confinement room designated as his own.
As the guard took us to see Skywarp, I discreetly glanced at Thundercracker from the corners of my optics. He stared intently ahead, and hence did not notice my looking. He had no idea how truthful I was being when I told him that I needed his sensibilities. I could not afford to lose him to his emotions at a time like this, because, as much as I hated to admit it, I was faring far worse than what my facade suggested.
Firechaser's sudden return brought up many questions, but it was not the questions I could not handle. The sight of his wounds and their implications made my spark quiver deep inside my chassis, and they clouded my processors with a dizzyingly wide array of emotions. The fact that Nightfire, one of the main pillars on which I rely, had already crumbled greatly affected me. Nightfire's ability to analyze all situations with a critical and objective optic was one of the main reasons I greatly valued him as an advisor. Ever since my return from the space expedition, all of my major decisions in regards to Vos as a whole had been made based on his advice. I did not feel the pressure of my position often, but this would be an instance where I was very aware of every single ounce of its weight, and it was heavy, incredibly heavy.
The guard entered the pass-code to the door of Skywarp's room, and it slid open after a small beep. Skywarp instantly came into view, and his helm snapped up in attention. He was seated on the berth connected to the back wall of the confinement chamber, hands clasped together in front of him and elbows on his knees. His optics briefly met mine before fleeting to Thundercracker's, and he had never looked so relieved in all my vorns of knowing him.
"Oh thank Primus the two of you are here!" He exclaimed, vents making a loud, hissy sigh, "You have no idea how much I need to be with you right now." The stark honesty in his voice caused a small trickle of fear to invade my spark, so I walked in slowly, merely watching as Thundercracker rushed forward, and instantly embraced our purple trine mate into his arms. Skywarp's wings were shaking even while Thundercracker rubbed calming circles. Whatever it was that had Skywarp spooked to such a degree was definitely bad news for the situation.
I silently motioned the guard to close the door and wait outside. Walking toward my trine mates, I joined them in sitting on the berth, and shuffled close until our energy fields brushed against each other. I felt infinitely glad for my trine at that moment. Somehow, when all members of the trine were together, things became easier to deal with.
"What happened, Skywarp? How did you find Firechaser?" I asked, breaking the fragile calm in the room. While I would have much rather preferred to stay in the comforting moment, there were urgent matters that needed immediate address, and no time for stalling the inevitable.
"I was on patrol under Megatron's orders when I received a comm. from him, telling me to return to base and report to the command room," Skywarp began, voice much heavier than I was used to coming from a mischievous Seeker like him. "When I teleported there, only he and Soundwave were waiting. They told me they had a really important mission for me, and that it was imperative for me to complete it without mishap.
"When I asked them what it was, Megatron said it was just retrieving a mech from confinement and bringing him back to base. I thought he wanted me to bail someone out of jail or something, but Primus knows how wrong I was…" Skywarp hugged his arms, and shuddered, but he continued without pause: "I told 'im I can't teleport to places I haven't been to before, and that unless they have really good coordinates, I don't know if I can do it. Soundwave ended up data-bursting them to me. The coordinates I mean, and slag were they long. I've never seen so many decimal numbers in my life." My purple trine mate made a small huffing sound that might have been laughter, but it sounded far too bitter and cynical to carry forth humour. "I asked Soundwave if he was gonna come with me, but he said I had to be alone.
"Now, you're probably wondering about the same thing that I was wondering about: how in the pits do I bail someone out when I don't even know what he looks like? I mean, at that time, I was still thinking that I was teleporting into Kaon prison or something, and who knows how many mechs are in there?" Skywarp glanced at Thundercracker and me, optics darting and nervous. "But then Soundwave just said, in that creepy voice of his, that I'd know as soon as I get to the place."
"And what kind of a place was it, Skywarp?" I asked, hands clenching into fists as I urged him to answer, staring straight into his widened optics. He stared back at me, look bare and unseeing. When he replied, his voice had lowered to a half-whisper, and it was laced with static.
"…The place…was a lab, Star…
"…It was a lab…"
My wing joints stiffened.
"I teleported to the exact coordinates," He spoke softly, "and ended up in a lab."
"…A lab?" Thundercracker asked, sounding almost convinced that he had heard wrong.
"Yeah, a lab…" Skywarp echoed, expression beguilingly blank, "…I looked around, and then I saw—…" His frame abruptly gave a violent spasm, and he jerkily turned away from my gaze. "…and then I saw Firechaser…"
Dread weighed down the silence until I could almost feel its pressure against my wings. This was worse than torture. This was…scientific exploits…
Someone was running experiments on Firechaser.
"Where was the lab, Skywarp?" I pushed onward, "Who did it belong to?"
"I don't know." Skywarp shook his lowered helm, "I don't know whose it was." He bent forward, and leaned his faceplate against his hands. "As soon as I got to the place, I was being shot at, so I didn't have much time to figure who was in charge there. Mechs were trying to kill me, and they were getting awfully close, but even through all the noise and the commotion, I—…I couldn't tear my optics from Firechaser…"
Skywarp's shaking worsened, and he cursed, fingers grappling around the plating of his helm as he hid his features behind his palms. "Primus, Star…" His words quavered, "You have no idea what they were doing to him…!" His voice became strained, "I know you can guess from his injuries, but to actually be there and see what they were doing—The sick slaggers—!" With a guttural snarl through gritted dentae, Skywarp abruptly pushed off from the berth, and strode to the opposite side of the room. "And that wasn't even the worst!" He made a wild swipe with an arm, and cried out:
"He was still awake, Star! Firechaser—…He was still conscious when they were butchering him!" Skywarp bellowed, faceplate twisted into an ugly visage of horrified anger. "A-And when he—when he saw me—" A strangled noise suddenly cut in, and Skywarp's frame grew rigid. "…He saw me and he started to cry and I—…I didn't—" Skywarp's voice abruptly broke, and his optics instantly offlined as the expression of fury morphed into a grimace of pain, "I didn't know what to do!"
Thundercracker immediately tried to rise from the berth to reach for Skywarp, but I held him back. I needed to hear everything Skywarp had to say, and if Thundercracker were to approach him now, all we would get out of him was unintelligible sobbing. The next several kliks were filled with silence, disturbed only by the heavy cycling of Skywarp's vents. Skywarp's fists clenched periodically down by his sides, and the wild flares of his energy field could be felt even two wingspans away, heated and turbulent.
"…Mechs were still trying to kill me, but I managed to avoid their shots." My purple trine mate resumed his speech after a loud sniff, "I teleported right next to Firechaser and grabbed onto him. I guess moving him at all was a really bad idea, since he was still plugged into all those machines, but I was beyond caring at that point. I teleported both of us to the first place I could think of, and ended up in Vos. The warping must've really hurt him, 'cause when I checked on him again, he was already in stasis…and what happened afterwards—…well…you know the rest…"
Thundercracker made another attempt at reaching for Skywarp, and, this time, I let him go. He dashed to Skywarp's side, and pulled our purple Seeker into his arms, murmuring words of comfort. Skywarp's wing language told me he was very upset, and that he was probably very embarrassed at being upset. However, he allowed Thundercracker to fuss over him, and stood still while our blue trine mate carefully wiped his faceplate clean.
"Skywarp," I spoke up when he looked like he had somewhat calmed down, "You still have the coordinates Soundwave gave you, correct?"
"Yeah," He nodded, and turned slightly. A scowl was forming on his faceplate, and his optics glared heatedly forward.
"The lab was in Iacon, Star," He gritted his dentae, fists trembling by his sides. "Firechaser was captured by the Autobots."
My spark instantly grew cold, icy claws of shock grasping it and clenching tightly. I could not move, frozen on the spot. Skywarp's words rang in my processors as though taunting my logic circuits, which could not believe what my audials had heard. A stabbing pain shot through my spark, and it tried to shrivel into itself, wishing to hide from the overwhelming fury and dread that threatened to overtake me completely.
"Are—Are you sure it was the Autobots?" Thundercracker asked, every bit as dismayed as I was. "…J-Just because it was in Iacon—…I-I mean, Iacon is a big city, 'Warp, perhaps you—" He shook his helm in disbelief, and stuttered, but Skywarp, with a frustrated growl, cut him off:
"Who else, TC? Who else can do this in Iacon!" My purple trine mate turned toward Thundercracker, and clutched onto his blue arms, "Everyone except for the civilians is an Autobot there!"
"But what benefits would they gain from kidnapping one of our young and experimenting on him?" Thundercracker shot back as if determined to falsify Skywarp's claims, "The Autobots cannot possibly risk making an enemy out of us, 'Warp! They know we have enough weaponry to retaliate against any attacks they can throw our way! They must be utterly mad if they—"
"-Primus damnit, TC! I don't care if they're glitched as frag! I know I was in Iacon and I know they were grounders, so who else could they have been!"
I offlined my optics, and covered my faceplate with my hands. My trine mates continued to argue, but instead of telling them to stop yelling at each other, I could only curl up and shake.
What was happening? I could not understand. How did everything suddenly become such a big, unrecognizable mess?
Confusion ate away at my spark. None of this made sense anymore. Why were the Autobots so foolish as to think they had the military power to attack my city? They knew my army was strong. They knew Vosian weaponry was advanced and powerful. What could they possibly gain from their ambitious stupidity? I was so frustrated!
There was no chance for the Autobots to win if they were to attempt an invasion. It was impossible. The landscape surrounding Vos was flat and barren, perfect for air strikes, which meant sending in foot soldiers was out of the question. Even if the Autobots did miraculously manage to reach the outer edge of my city, they would have nowhere to go, stuck beneath a fortress that was the labyrinth that separated Vos from the rest of Cybertron.
Meeting my fliers head-on in the air was even more ridiculous. The Autobots had ships that allowed them flight, yes, but they were slow and ineffective for battle. Against fleets of wings trained to bring down everything in their way, hovercrafts were practically floating targets. I was confident that Vos would remain impenetrable should war erupt between the Autobots and my city. As long as my people were behind Vosian walls, they were safe.
However, I was worried.
I was…afraid.
What if the Autobots simply would not give up? There was advantage in numbers, and there were so many more ground pounders than fliers on Cybertron. While Vos was self-efficient, I had become aware of the desperation plaguing those who were forced to live in the deep towers. If war were to happen, their living conditions would only worsen. Not only that, I knew they would be pushed aside in favour of more immediate, pressing matters. What if the Autobots were mad enough to continue attacking even after repeated defeats? What if Iacon and Vos reached a stalemate? My fliers were spectacular in the air, but casualties were inevitable in battle. If war were to become a matter of waiting to see who died out first, Vos would stand little chance against the rest of Cybertron.
…Was war…truly a possibility?
I rubbed my faceplate, and took a deep, shaky cycle of air.
There was much I still did not know, but one thing was clear. Based on the nature of the wounds on Firechaser's wings, it was very obvious what the Autobots were experimenting with.
They were developing anti-flight weaponry.
Such weaponry would not even need to deactivate a flier. All the Autobots needed it to do was to effectively bring fliers down from the sky, and the fight would be over.
Fliers did not know how to fight on the ground. We were not built to do so. Grounded brawls did happen, but the victor was often simply bigger and sturdier rather than being more skilled. There was never really the need to train for ground combat. Why learn how to fight hand-to-hand when one could simply swoop down from above and take out opponents with single, precise shots? Even the Space Shuttles, almost always larger than ground pounders, would be at a disadvantage when grounded.
What would happen to us if the Autobots actually assembled such weaponry? Getting through the labyrinth would still be difficult, but Vosian casualty in battle would increase in greater numbers. What would Vos do when its defenders could no longer actively protect it? Would I be forced to take my fliers away, and leave Cybertron behind? The choice was not preferable, but finding another home amongst the stars was better than perishing altogether. There were ways to harvest energon, and all fliers were capable of space travel.
…I knew all this.
I knew I have options.
However…
I did not want to be forced to leave.
I did not want to leave Vos.
…Vos was home…
…and no one should have to choose between leaving his home, or face deactivation.
"…Star?" Thundercracker's voice jolted me out of my thoughts. His light touch on my left wing outright startled me, and my intakes hitched in a gasp.
My hands fell away from my faceplate, and I looked up, taking notice with slight surprise that Thundercracker and Skywarp were no longer quarreling. They were crowding around me instead, leaning almost a little too close. They were staring at me with an awful lot of concern, but that was not the only oddity that caught my attention. My vision was blurry, and, for several kliks, I could not figure out why. It was not until Thundercracker held my faceplate in his hands, and gently swiped his thumbs over my cheek-plates did I realize that they were wet from the coolant streaming down from my optics.
I did not know why coolant was streaming down from my optics. I was not exactly upset, though slightly shaken and unsure about what to do. I felt dazed. I could not understand how so much had changed in so little joors. I was thrown out of balance, and I did not know what to say even when Thundercracker asked me if I was okay.
I was not okay, but I batted his hands away and wiped my faceplate clean. Sitting on my aft and shedding tears would not change anything. I needed to be strong. I needed to take initiative. I needed to take care of Firechaser, Nightfire, their family unit, and all citizens of Vos. This was my responsibility, my only responsibility, and mine alone.
…Mine…alone…
I sighed through my vents, and I thought of Skyfire.
I no longer thought of Skyfire often. The busyness of my schedule made thinking about anything other than my duties somewhat difficult. However, whenever I felt like buckling under the weight of my title, I often thought of him, my white, angelic Space Shuttle…whom I really, really missed.
It had been…too many vorns to count since Skyfire's deactivation, but my spark still throbbed when I thought about him. I had not realized how reliant on him I had been until I lost him to that young planet light-years away. While he had never meddled with my rule over Vos, he had voluntarily carried half of my burdens. He was my intended bondmate, the only one who was essentially my equal, and having an equal had been nice. Skyfire was not obligated to follow my orders, and the notion really did not bother me as much as I thought it would. If anything, he was the strength that held up my world, and when he was gone…
I shook my helm.
Thinking about Skyfire was not going to help the current situation either.
"…Oh, frag!" An alarmed yelp from Skywarp snapped me out of my thoughts, and both Thundercracker and I turned to look at him, wondering what was troubling him all of a sudden.
"What is it?" Thundercracker asked when Skywarp failed to explain, opting to stare at us with wide optics and an opened mouth.
"…Oh no—!" Our purple trine mate wailed, "He's gonna slag me!" Flopping down beside me on the berth, Skywarp made a tragic expression, and groaned.
"Who?" Thundercracker frowned, and shared a confused glance with me.
"Megatron!" Skywarp's wings sagged on his back, "He's probably still waiting for me to report back to him!"
…Megatron.
My optics widened, and everything abruptly raced into track.
Megatron.
He was the one who had warned me about the Autobots when I visited him during my trip to Iacon.
He was the one who had ordered Skywarp to go on the mission.
This could only mean one thing:
He knew the whereabouts of Firechaser, and yet he had not told me.
Rage.
Fiery, explosive rage shot through my system so quickly that my fuel lines were instantly aflame with impetuous heat. My wings began to rattle. My optics narrowed. My hands clenched so hard that I could feel the cables in the joints of my fingers straining against the tension.
…How long?
…How long had he known?
How long had he been aware of the Autobots running their sickening experiments on one of my Seekers!
I gritted my dentae, and I saw murder.
How could he?
How could he have known and not told me what was happening to Firechaser?
How dare he press me close to him, look at me in the optics, and so blatantly pretend that he did not know when he knew!
Humiliation punched me straight in the gut, and pierced through my spark chamber like an icy spear.
I had wanted him.
I had desired him.
I had allowed him to touch me, and I had lusted after his spike.
I had lain in my berth, unable to recharge, all because I had been tortured by thoughts of his hands on the most intimate parts of my frame. All the while he—he—…
What a fool I had made of myself! How could I have been so stupid! How could I have ever even once believed that he—
-Hurt.
It hurt.
I bit my lips, and offlined my optics when a wave of hurt mercilessly drilled through my spark.
How could I have ever even once believed that he thought of me as anything more than a mere, passing convenience?
Thundercracker was once again asking me if I was okay. Even Skywarp, despite his recently found woe, was looking at me with worry written all over his faceplate. However, I did not respond to any of their inquiries, frozen rigid while I snuffed out the hurt, and cultivated the fury.
Without a single word to my trine mates, I pushed off from the berth, and walked to the door, steps determined and quick. Slamming down on the keypad, I snatched a blaster from the first guard that came into view upon the opening of the door, and strode back into the confinement room.
"You," I pointed at Skywarp, voice in a cold, hard hiss, "are going to teleport me, right this instance, to Kaon, where that slagger Megatron is."
Skywarp only stared, frozen in a half-risen position from the berth. When he still failed to comply after several silent kliks of blatant gaping, I almost shot at him for being too stupid to follow my order.
"Now, Skywarp!" I abruptly shouted, and the purple idiot jumped at the sudden, sharp volume. Scrambling on his peds, he ran toward me, and grabbed me by the arm.
"W-Wait—Starscream!" Thundercracker cried out just as Skywarp activated his warping system. Frantic and alarmed, our blue trine mate ran toward us, and made a massive leap in the air. His hands stretched forward, trying to catch on before we could teleport away, but he was too late, too far to reach us in time.
I knew he was too late.
He should have been too late.
…But he was not too late.
He grappled on, and we all fell to the floor in a pile.
"What the frag—Skywarp!" I shrieked as I pushed and kicked at the bodies that landed on top of mine, and cursed up a storm. The idiot Skywarp—He failed in the only thing he was ever good for! On the verge of becoming mad with fury, I began to aim the blaster at a certain idiot's wiggling aft. However, before I could shoot, Skywarp made a holler of realization, and barked out the reason for his failure:
"My coordinate system! It's still deactivated!"
I wanted to slap my faceplate.
Of course! His arrest entailed disabling his coordinate system so he could not teleport away! With a rather impressive heave, I untangled my limbs from my trine mates', and zeroed in on the guard whose blaster I had taken.
"You! Activate his coordinate system!" I commanded.
The guard stared.
"Now!" I screamed. I was surrounded by incompetent fools!
"—A-Affirmative, your Highness! Right away!" The guard rushed toward Skywarp, who had returned to his peds by then, and detached the small scrambler from the back of Skywarp's neck cables. As soon as the little device came off, I grabbed Skywarp's hand, and pinned him with a steely glare.
"Now, teleport." I bit out through gritted dentae, voice in a low snarl.
Skywarp nodded hastily, and activated his teleportation system. Thundercracker, unfortunately, had glued himself to Skywarp's other side, undoubtedly determined to stop me from deactivating a ground pounder that definite deserved deactivating. No matter, I clenched the blaster in my hand tightly. No one could stop me.
With a distinct pop, our surroundings warped and faded, and were quickly replaced by a large, dull-looking room that I was not familiar with. However, its lack of decor and proper furnishing barely registered in my processors. My optics swept over the large chamber, but I did not notice anything else except for the massive ground pounder that sat on a big chair in the center of the room.
Megatron.
I sneered in hatred, and my optics narrowed to slits. As soon as I was firm on my peds, I swung up the blaster, and curled my finger around the trigger.
I fired.
The speed at which Megatron dodged my shot was very impressive for a mech his size, but, at that moment, it only angered me further. I clutched the blaster in both hands, and aimed, taking shot after shot at the ground pounder who was annoyingly hard to hit despite being a large target. I knew I had very good aim, but only a few of my shots grazed him, none of them damaging him as much as I would have liked. He made an abrupt turn I did not anticipate, and suddenly charged toward me, faceplate in a scowl and lips parted as though to speak. Without a klik's pause, I fired again, and, this time, my shot hit him square on the shoulder.
He let out a pained grunt, and his shoulder reared back from the impact of the shot. However, to my instantly flaring alarm, he continued to advance upon me with large, fast strides, steps heavy against the floor and energy field crackling with rage. Fear immediately sliced through my spark when I realized just how close he was getting to me, and I hurriedly took aim again. However, before I could fire, he swung back his fist, and sent a punch flying toward my helm.
With a high yelp, I immediately engaged my thrusters, and bent backward. I avoided the hit by a mere klik, and watched with spark-seizing terror as the large, hard fist sailed over my faceplate by less than a wingtip. I flew away a few steps, skidding along the floor, and tried to steady my suddenly shaky hands for another shot. However, he was somehow faster, and his other hand came lashing down, slapping the blaster clean out of my fingers.
Suddenly weaponless and vulnerable, I instantly looked up, seeking escape. The ceiling was high enough for me to retreat from immediate danger, and there was no way a grounder could catch me if I were to fly. Unfortunately, Megatron seemed to have realized what I was planning to do. Before I could even engage my thrusters, his hand once again came striking down, and it hit me straight in the faceplate.
The impact swept me off my peds. I let out a sharp cry, and fell to the side, cheek plating bursting into flaming pain. I landed on my front, sprawled out on the floor, and let out a small groan when my cheek continued to sting from the harsh smack. However, before I could move a single finger to rub at the burn, a crushing weight came slamming down against my back, and pinned me to the floor. My cockpit glass screeched against the hard, coarse surface, and I screamed, thrashing against the heavy ped pressing me down. Thick fingers abruptly clenched around the top edges of my wings, denting the thin metal, and my shrieks of indignation instantly became screams of agony when they pulled.
Pain erupted all over my sensor net, so strong that I became momentarily blind. My wing joints were being stretched to their limits. Any more pressure and my wings would undoubtedly be ripped straight from my back. Coolant washed down my faceplate, and I cried out in shrill wails, struggling against the unrelenting grip on my wings. Unicron slag me, I had never been in so much excruciating agony in my entire existence. To make matters worse, the fingers around my wings increasingly tightened, and they were starting to crumble my sensitive appendages, kliks from splintering my flight sensors.
"Stop! Stop!" My vocalizer strained as I shrieked, voice several pitches higher than normal, "Please! Just stop!"
"I have every reason to tear off your wings and deactivate you right where you are, Starscream!" A loud, deep bellow answered me from above, and by Primus was it terrifying. However, to my sheer surprise, the fingers around my wings loosened their clutch by a minute degree. Realizing that Megatron seemed to respond well to begging and submissive behaviour, I instantly started to plead, words spilling easily from my quivering lips.
"P-Please don't do that! Please don't!" I wailed, whimpering and making all sorts of meek little noises. "M-Megatron! Please—!" I whined, squirming and perking up my aft even though the motion caused sharp jabs of pain to shoot up my neural network. Biting down on my dentae and choking back sobs, I reached back, and felt around blindly until I found his thigh. Giving the thick limb awkward rubs, I prayed to Primus that Megatron would become distracted enough to forget about ripping my wings off.
"Why shouldn't I?" His voice was quieter, but it was every bit as angry as his shouting, if not more alarming and dangerous. "You intruded into my base with a weapon and proceeded to attempt to deactivate me with it. Why shouldn't I end you, flier?"
"B-Because—…Because—" I spluttered.
What kind of a question was that!
"-Because I—"
My processors reeled, and they scrambled for a reason through the overwhelming haze of burning suffering I was going through. I whimpered loudly, and spurted out the first thought that dashed across my mind, which happened to be:
"—I'm too pretty to die—!"
For a long moment, Megatron froze still, as though he could not understand what in the pits I had just said. Then, little by little, his fingers loosened around my wing edges until my poor, abused appendages were finally released. I groaned in relief, and sagged to the floor with a shaky sigh from my vents. His ped remained pressed to my back, but the weight was no longer crushing, only firm. We remained in the same position for almost a whole breem before a voice cut through the silence, which was starting to grate on my neural sensors with scary awkwardness.
"L-Let him go, ground pounder, or—or I'll shoot!" I heard Thundercracker stutter out, and Megatron shifted slightly from on top of me in response. I turned in the direction Thundercracker's voice had come from, and spotted him pointing the blaster I had dropped at the one keeping me on the floor. Despite his wavering words, my blue trine mate's faceplate wore an expression of determination. His aim was steady, and I had never seen his optics so bright with the intention of harming another mech before.
"Uhh…TC?" Skywarp looked irritatingly useless as he shifted on his peds beside our blue trine mate, "I don't think that's such a good idea…" Megatron must have glanced at him, for he winced slightly before continuing on: "Trying to deactivate a grounder with a blaster designed for a flier is just not gonna work. It'll still hurt like slag, but their plating's just too thick, you see…"
My faceplate mirrored Thundercracker's as he gaped at the blaster he held in his hands in dawning realization and shock. I could not believe I had forgotten about such an important factor. The blaster did not even carry enough charge to deactivate a large-sized flier, let alone a ground pounder. Unless there was an emergency, interior guards never carried heavy-duty military weapons, and only heavy-duty military weapons could actually fully penetrate through a ground pounder's frame to properly hurt and kill.
I had attacked a ground pounder who slagged other ground pounders for a living with a measly little blaster meant to deter than deactivate, while I was grounded in a room inside a base that belonged to the aforementioned ground pounder.
If I were not in so much pain, I would have been extremely embarrassed with myself.
Megatron make a low, unimpressed hum, and I felt him reaching to place his hand on me. I stiffened, and almost whimpered, but he only rested his palm against my left wing.
"I cannot imagine what I could have done to cause you to act in such a manner, Starscream." He sounded calmer, but he was far from being happy with me. "I expect you to stop your foolish behaviour and explain yourself after I let you go. Will you comply?"
"…Yes," I mumbled, and was annoyed at being treated like an unruly sparkling. However, I was glad I no longer had to be lying on the floor, which was really quite filthy. The weight on my back vanished, and I quickly pushed myself up onto my peds. I tried moving my wings, and flinched when they slowly waved. Their joints still stung a lot, but the pain had dwindled down to being mostly sore.
I could handle a little soreness.
Straightening up, I wiped my faceplate clean of coolant, and glared up at the ground pounder that almost tore my wings off. Megatron glowered down at me, lips pressed tightly together and forming a slight, downward arc. His hulking form exuded waves after waves of held back anger, and his optics glowed like raging pitfire. If I were being completely honest with myself, I would say I was more than a little intimidated. However, pride kept me from scooting back to my trine for comfort, so I stood my ground, sneering up at the massive mech.
"You hurt me," I narrowed my optics, "I can send my army after you for that."
"You initiated an attack, and I responded accordingly. I have no reason I treat you differently from any other mechs I encounter, Starscream," Megatron remained still, voice flat but harsh. "You have no authority here."
I had never before longed so dearly for my null rays than at that moment, itching to add a few scorch marks to his chassis. Unfortunately, I did not have them with me, so I crossed my arms, and tilted my chin upward just so I could stare him down over my nose bridge. I knew he was right, but that did not mean I had to openly acknowledge it. Seeing that I was obviously not going to reply, Megatron gave me a steady gaze, and chose to continue speaking.
"What business do you bring, flier?" He paused briefly, and his optics made a small flash, "Have you finally decided to wear my mark?"
Once again, anger shot through me, but this time, I fought to keep it down. After all, I did not want a repeat of what had just happened. My optics narrowed further, and I yelled up at him, a scowl most prominent on my features:
"As I have said before, ground pounder, I will never wear your mark!" I took a step forward, and activated my thrusters to boost up my height until our faceplates were even, "And I'm here regarding the matter of Firechaser!"
Recent memory-files resurfaced, and my wings jerked agitatedly as images of Firechaser on the medical berth returned. I had to bite back a wince when the sharp movements caused my wing joints to throb, and pushed onward with my accusations:
"You knew about his whereabouts, yet you did nothing to notify me," My jaw joints tensed, and my fists trembled. "How could you allow the Autobots to continue their disgusting actions when you knew there was a way to rescue him!" My voice became progressively louder, "Why did you not tell me when you knew? Why did you wait until now?" The sight of Firechaser's torn frame refused to leave my processors, and my spark quivered, pinching painfully from the distress and helplessness I felt. "You are every bit as responsible as Firechaser's tormentors to his suffering!" I shouted right into his faceplate, and my wings fanned out despite the gesture adding strain to their hurt.
"I had my suspicions, but I did not know for sure," Megatron answered, seemingly unaffected by my words. "Even if I had known, I'm not obligated to tell you anything, Starscream."
"But I'm your potential ally!" I glared straight into his optics, and stabbed his chassis with a finger, "It would do you well to win my favour, ground pounder!"
Instead of getting riled up by my jabby fingers, Megatron only leveled me with a flat stare. "It would indeed benefit me to have your allegiance, but you overestimate your value to me," He spoke evenly, tone solid and cold. "You are not special."
My spark skidded in my spark chamber, and, for a long moment, I only stared at him, optics widening.
I had let this ground pounder place his hands on my plating. I had allowed him to press me against a wall and ravish my frame. I even consented to him pulling me close against his chassis with an audience around us, and he would dare to say that I was not special?
My lips parted, and I was kliks from unleashing a furious tirade of insults. However, he quickly cut me off, speaking before I could utter a word.
"From the way you have reacted to Firechaser's retrieval, I take it that you are now aware of the inevitability of war?"
My lips remained parted, but I fell silent, gaping at him and furious tirade lost.
"War is coming, Starscream, whether you are ready for its arrival or not," He took a step toward me as he spoke, and I made a noise of surprise, immediately trying to hover back. However, he instantly lifted his arm, and caught me before I could move away. He pressed his hand flat against my back, and kept me still with a touch that was almost gentle, but infinitely assured. His optics were in their full shine, sparks crackling around their edges, and…somehow…he looked different from the first few times I had seen him.
At first, I could not quite place what it was, and then, realization hit me:
Megatron had changed.
Slowly and surely, he had undergone a drastic transformation.
He was no longer a troubled miner not knowing what to do with his own strength. He was no longer a gladiator fighting and killing just to survive another cycle in the smelting pits of Kaon. He had become the commander of a spawning army, a leader who was immovable in his ideals and relentless in pursuing his goal.
His goal…which was to renew Cybertron by plunging its inhabitants into the flames of war.
"There is a choice you must make," His voice was quieter, authority bleeding through his words rather than volume, "and it is whether you wish to be the aggressor or the victim, to be the strong or the weak." His gaze was penetrating, and it bore deeply into my optics.
"…However, know this, Starscream," He pulled me closer, until my cockpit was pressed flush against his chassis, optics piercing into my own:
"There will be no room for the weak in the world I will build from Cybertron's ashes."
For a long moment, I remained silent.
…I simply did not know what to say, and I had forgotten how to breathe.
My intakes gasped to a stop, and my vents spluttered to a halt. I was trapped under his presence, enveloped by the heat of his frame.
Everything was happening at too quickly a pace. I did not have the time to fully understand the situation, to settle on a best course of action to take. This was not how one decided on what to do that was best for his city. This was not how a responsible monarch chose the fate of his people. Such a significant decision required cycles upon cycles of careful analysis and deliberation with advisors, during which all possible outcomes were explored, and all scenarios tested through simulations. Such a decision should be made based on logic, and not on impulse, which was governed by the spark, not the processors.
I knew what I should do, and it was to tell this grounder an answer that was not an answer at all – a favoured response of all politicians. However…Megatron…
…There was something about him…that made me…
…impulsive…
I studied him, wishing to delve into his gaze and unravel the why behind how a previously nameless grounder could hold my attention so entirely and avidly. I watched him, and tried to find the answer to such mystery. However, I was simply too distracted by the reactions of my frame to think, as it was pressed too snuggly against his rougher plating.
…A fluttering sensation tickled my spark chamber, and I felt almost lightheaded, vocalizer rendered mute. My wing joints tingled with the remnants of pain, and my dented wing edges continued to send out ripples of gentle throbbing. My processors were silent and blank. My spark swelled behind my rounded canopy. Its heat was overwhelming, and it warmed my frame all the way to my wing tips from my burning core.
"…I…will be your ally, Megatron…" I whispered, and tried in vain to fight back the shiver that shook through my frame.
Megatron watched me in return, and a faint smirk tilted up the corners of his lips. "For now," He added, and slowly lifted his other hand, the one not keeping me pressed close. His fingers touched my flight sensors, and ran along the bottom edge of my left wing. My intakes instantly gasped, and my cooling fans clicked online with a very noticeable whirr. I immediately latched onto his shoulders, and squirmed, biting back a strangled whimper as sharp sensations of pleasure surged through my system.
He continued to watch me, and his optics smoldered with liquid heat.
"I have said this before," He spoke softly, voice low and minutely rasped:
"You will wear my mark, Starscream."
My cheek plates grew hot, and I shakily averted my gaze.
"…You will wear it proudly."
He finished with a low rumble, and there was an indulgent smile in his deep voice.
My spark pounded in my spark chamber, and I nibbled on my quivering lips.
I did not agree with his statement, nor did I refute it.
Notes: This chapter ended up being longer than I'd expected. I expanded on the scene between Megatron and Starscream during editing, and, hopefully, it's made you wish they'd just get on with the naughty already(!) a little bit more, haha!
Unfortunately, there's a few chapters left before they do anything resembling the naughty, so, for now, you'll have to bear with the two of them simply…doing whatever it is that they're currently doing (being difficult? XD).
I am rather pleased, though, to announce that this chapter is the first chapter where Megatron slaps Starscream around! Come now, be honest, who's been anticipating for that to happen? ;p
I must admit: I do take a small sliver of giddy satisfaction at seeing Starscream get smacked around. However, I do not wish to write abuse, at least not for this story when these two are involved. This does not mean there won't be any violence – there will be tons of it, and some can be graphic. I just really hope to find an alternate reason for its existence in Megatron and Starscream's relationship. For some reasons, writing Megatron as an abuser in this story just doesn't feel right.
Before I end this note (so it doesn't get any lengthier and effectively bore you), I'd like to take a moment to say thank-you to all who've read my story, and added it to favourites/alerts. Special shout-outs once again to reviewers, who are in many ways awesome and amazing: Devlinn Reiko, Random523, Koluno1986, Chibi Oro, TsukiyomiNeko, Ashcola17, Wol Lo, ChaosGarden, Pandablubb, PwnKage, The Happy Shark, The Apple's Pie (Thanks for your reviews! I haven't been able to reply to them as it seems you have disabled your PM, so I just wanted to tell you that I really appreciate you leaving me a few words), and lildevchick. Your comments mean a lot to me, and they always manage to bring a big smile onto my face despite what kind of a day I've had, so, truly, thank you! :))))
Starting next chapter, there will be progressively more Megatron. If memory serves me correctly, he'll be having lengthy appearances in pretty much all chapters from now on. The plot will also be approaching its "rising conflicts" stage. I think its exposition stage is long enough (approximately 80,000 words)…XD
Anyways, I really hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter, and I look forward to sharing more of this story with you. Please do leave me a review if you have the time! I'd appreciate it immensely.
