ATTENTION

IMPORTANT

PLEASE READ!

Do I have your attention? Yes? Good, it'll take but a moment. This AN is to tell you that this chapter is rated M. Yes, M, from Mature, and it is done so because there's gore in this, lots of gore, psychological terror, mechs going crazy, maybe a bit of cannibalism... Well, this is from the episode Bad Spark. I think I need say no more.

For those that want to skip the gruesome details, it is safe to read until Silverbolt and Blackarachnia are found (key sentence: "Finally. We need to get out of here, and fast." After that, things go downhill fast, so I suggest you stop there if you want to avoid all the M-rated stuff). From then on, only the very last scene of the chapter will be back to T-rating. Don't worry, I'll write a summary at the end so you can know what happened while sparing you the icky bits.

For those that don't mind... Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

It starts innocent enough.

Monitor duty, a call from Cheetor, who is on recon, about locating a damaged—thoroughly trashed—stasis pod…

And then, it all changes.

Starscream shrugs as he watches Optimus briskly step into the lift with Silverbolt, but, despite his bored and uninterested appearance, it doesn't mean he's not paying attention.

"Primus help us all if that thing survived."

Well, well. Isn't that ominous.

However, it's none of the Seeker's business, so, when Rhinox goes back to whatever, most likely to more closely monitor the other Maximals, the Flier uses the excuse of having to stare at the screens to sift through the data he extracted from the alien weapon.

Vok. The Vok's weapon.

He knows nothing of any species calling themselves that, and while it may be because either they existed no longer, or not yet, in his time, it can also mean that Cybertronian hadn't simply encountered them.

Nevertheless, all that data…

Upgrades for scans, weapons, new equations and logarithms for him to break apart and piece together and improve…

Oh, yes. The Vok will certainly be a great help to the Decepti—

"Optimus, answer me!"

And… there goes his calm.

And his time, apparently. He's been lost in thought for that long?

Shrugging it off, since it isn't as if he had anywhere else to be, Starscream stands up and goes to Rhinox's side.

"Please, tell me it isn't the aliens again." He deadpans, but the Rhinoceros doesn't even react, almost desperately trying different frequencies.

"No, it's not, it's… Some kind of Energon storm started in the sector, and I can't hail Optimus or any other in there."

That… sounds bad.

"Energon storms don't start just like that, least of all on Earth and after that quantum surge." The Flier muses out loud, scanning the data flooding the screen. "It must've been intentional."

"Yes, like a deposit blowing up, and since there's no way it did so on its own, or that Optimus, Cheetor or Silverbolt did it…"

"Predacons. Do you want me to get Ramjet and see if we can find them?"

"I… Yes. But be careful." The engineer answers, turning to stare seriously into the Seeker's optics.

On the outside, he just nods and goes away, but, on the inside, he's puzzling over the Maximals' strange behavior, and what brought it up.

The big stasis pod with the X.

Ominous, indeed…

But maybe interesting as well.

Instead of pondering things any longer, he just calls the Conehead to meet him outside, and, after a brief update on their mission, they take off.

"So we're playing search and rescue now?" Ramjet grumbles, annoyed at their task.

"We're doing what we need to. Besides, it could be interesting."

"Interesting? What about flying into an Energon storm to find some Autobot descendants is interesting?" The other Flier snarls, but Starscream is too curious to have his calm mood soured by such bitterness.

"Not finding the Maximals, but what they were searching for. A big stasis pod containing a creature Rhinox prayed to Primus had been deactivated."

"What?! How is that interesting?! That's dangerous!" The Conehead shrieks, and the Air Commander shakes his helm softly.

"What are you, a fleshling? Quit your panicking."

"My panicking?! Is that what it's called now? This is all your fault, yours and your slagging curiosity's!"

Startled, the Decepticon SIC turns his head to look at the fuming Crested Eagle, feathers puffed out in anger.

"My fault?"

"Yes! We should've staid at the mouth of the cave!"

Oh. So that is what this tantrum is about.

"I told you, I still need more time to decipher the data I got from the aliens. Once I have that—"

"Once you have that, then it will be something else! You've been stalling ever since we got here!"

And that makes his anger blaze.

"Stalling?! Stalling for what?! For Megatron and his precious Shockwave to open a portal out of nowhere and carry us into the sunset like those pathetic human knights in shiny armor? I've been working non-stop ever since we got stranded here! I've been analyzing the technology, the knowledge, so that I could reverse-engineer it and use it to send us back!"

"Oh, yeah? When have you been doing that, exactly?"

"Every nanoklik I hadn't been thinking about keeping us functioning!" He shrieks, patience snapping, and feels his plumage melt into frictionless platinum. "Unlike other mechs, I actually use my processor for something else that locating the next wall I'm going to crash into!"

"Oh, you wanna see crashing?! I'll give you—!"

The Maximal comm line crackles to activation, and they both freeze, letting the picking wind carry them forward.

::Starscream, this is Rhinox, do you copy?::

After a moment to diffuse his anger—or stuff it away for a better use later—the Air Commander takes a deep breath and turns his attention to the marsh extending under them.

"Yes, loud and clear. What is it?"

::Optimus called. Him and Cheetor are on their way to base to get to the CR Chambers, but Silverbolt is still somewhere under cover of the storm. Your mission is to find him and get him back. You won't be able to communicate once there, so let me tell you abo—sis pod—ing a f—::

And the connection cuts.

Both Decepticons exchange a look, annoyed but comprehending the situation they're in, before, as the winds pick up and the prickling sensation of Energon against their frames grows stronger, they lower their altitude and decrease their speed to be able to see something amidst the fog without actually slamming into it.

This is neither the time nor the place for such an argument.

Well, maybe it is the place, away from Maximals, Predacons and such, but it certainly isn't the time, nor are the circumstances adequate.

As evidenced by the sound of shooting.

With just a twitch from a wing, Starscream guides Ramjet to the origin of the sound, both as silent as ghosts and mostly invisible in the mist—

A scream.

Slag silence and stealth.

Flapping their wings stronger than before, they quickly find their wayward Maximal, mostly thanks to the colorful parts strewn all over the ground.

And look at that, seems like a Predacon was left behind too.

"Silverbolt!" Starscream shouts, secure in giving away their position, because the Fuzor has a good grip on Blackarachnia—

Ah, no. It's a supportive one.

"What's the damage?" He asks as he lands, transforming gracefully, with Ramjet at his back, both Maximal and Predacon not raising their weapons.

"And what happened to… is that Tarantulas?" The Conehead asks, crest fanning open in surprise as they get closer to the parts and finally get a chance to recognize them.

"Finally. We need to get out of here, and fast."

"Explain." The Air Commander orders, analyzing the cables and linkages hanging off the limbs, evidence that they were ripped out.

"It's Protoform X. Optimus told us he—"

Hunger.

He hears the others jump at him suddenly turning around, tense and with dactyls curled almost claw-like, searching in the mist.

Nothing.

But…

"You were saying?" He asks after a moment, relaxing his posture but staying on guard.

He knows there's something out there… What, on the other servo…

"Uh, right. He said it was an experiment of the Maximals to replicate Starscream's—the other Starscream, the Decepticon, not you, that is. Ah, to replicate his indestructible spark, but that it was a mistake, it turned against them, or something, and—"

Hunger. Fear… Delicious fear…

This time, they don't react as badly when the Seeker whirls around, but, on the other servo, look even more worried than before.

"Would you stop that?!" Blackarachnia screeches, looking annoyed, angered even, but she's afraid, he can feel the fear, he can feast on it, more, and more and make them suffer, make them feeL TERROR—

"NO!" Starscream shrieks, curling into himself with his helm tightly clutched in his servos, taking a step to the side—

And his pede collides with something, something metallic, something Energon stained, the faceplate distorted with horror and agony and parts everywhere, over the floor, splattering the walls, covering the other deactivated frames—

A thunderous roar, terrifying with the delight it's filled with, and startled shouts from Blackarachnia, Silverbolt and Ramjet as they all whirl to face the—

The thing shaped like a monstrous purple crab, that jumps on its position to transform into a gargantuan mech, Energon streaking over his frame like water and poisonous green optics filled with delight at the new victims, new toys, new FOOD—

Blackarachnia shrieks.

A long, high-pitched and horrified sound that makes Starscream's spark constrict and soak it in at the same time—

The thing moves closer, and they finally snap back to their senses.

Silverbolt falls into a lowered stance, as if he could ever face such a creature in hand to hand combat, while Ramjet takes to the air and Starscream grabs his feather-blades.

It's just another enemy, just another big, dumb, lumbering beast that needs to be taken down.

The last one. Destroy this one, and there will be no more. This is the last—

The thing slams the Fuzor aside as if he was a weak branch, and Blackarachnia finally straightens and starts shooting with her machinegun spider arms.

And the beast laughs.

It laughs in mirth and amusement, and why should I not? These are the best prey, those who fight, those who hope… Their fEAR IS THE TASTIEST—

And takes a large black gun and sends the Spider crashing into some rocks behind them with a single shot.

Green optics meet red, and the world vanishes.

No, it doesn't vanish, it's… the mist… the mist grows thicker, covering everything in white, blocking trees and fallen mechs and the flapping of wings as his spark pulses.

And it shouldn't be possible to tell with the monster's faceplate, but it is smiling in delight.

"You."

The beast moves closer, but the Seeker doesn't step back.

He… Why should he?

"I knew you were coming. I felt you, I feel you. As you can feel me."

And… it's right, he can.

The hunger, the rage, the joy as limbs break in their grip, as screams fill their audials and the Energon, warM, TINGLY CHARGED ENERGON, SLIDES DOWN THEIR INTAKES AS—

—bright optics stare unseeingly, tendrils of inner workings spilled on the ground wrapping around his pedes, screeched pleas for a mercy he can't—he won't ever give, claws piercing chest plates and sparks flaring as his smirk grows—

"Yes, yes! I knew it was you!" The beast cackles, stepping even closer as Starscream can just watch, body unable to even twitch, because if he moves he can't be sure he'll stay in control. "How about we get to know each other while we dine, brother?"

And a red servo moves, taking his attention from those green optics to the horrified Silverbolt staring at him as he helps Blackarachnia to her pedes.

It… it sounds reasonable. He could do with some more charge, the flight has been tiring, and their fear is so delicious… He can only imAGINE WHAT THEIR TERROR WILL BE LIKE…

…

"I can't feel my brothers or Carrier."

"They will be fine. And I promise I'll get you back to them. All of you."

…

"Now, any reason you were on your own in the middle of the night and away from the ship when we have confirmed an increase on Predacon activity?"

"I… needed to think."

"What you need is to relax. Race?"

"What—No, no. I'm not meant for racing."

"And my legs are far shorter than yours, so we're equal. Race? Come on, race?"

"I really shouldn't…"

"Oh, come on! Just say yes already. I promise I won't go faster than your average falcon."

…

"This is all your fault, yours and your slagging curiosity's!"

"My fault?"

"Yes! We should've staid at the mouth of the cave!"

…

"I'm not your brother."

The beast turns at the sound of his voice with a curious sound, as if he hadn't heard the words.

So, Starscream decides to give a clearer message.

The monster shrieks as his black feather-blade carves open its forearm, from wrist to elbow joint, and moves away.

"I said I'm not your brother!" He shrieks, lifting the second feather-blade and charging.

And the thing steps back, barely avoiding him, before starting to cackle.

"A null-ray! You have null-rays!" Another swipe, this one nicking one of the extra legs rising on its back like spines. "Or should I say, null-blades."

Starscream lunges again, and is met with a fist to the side, sending him rolling with a grunt.

"You certainly are more accurately designed. A Seeker, those numbing charges…" And it lifts the arm that was cut, the plating knitting back together in front of the Flier's very optics. "Makes one wonder why they felt the need to make me, when the Maximals already had you."

"I'm no Maximal." He snarls, getting to his pedes again, feeling the fear and horror of the mechs around them, observing, listening, as well as the glee of the giant approaching him once more.

"Guess that's why."

This time, it's the beast that lunges.

Starscream jumps, swiping one of his null-blades—no, no, don't call them that, that's what the thing called them!—and slashes open its back, over its very neural chord, and relishes in its agonized scream.

He falls gracefully to his pedes, swirling the null-blade in a lazy arc, hearing—and feeling—the charged Energon drip off it as he moves closer to the fallen monster, sharp smirk growing on his faceplate.

Oh, yes, such delightful screaming… But there's still so much more possibilities… What of agony, instead of pain? What of fear, instead of agony?

And as he chuckles, the beast chuckles with him.

"Yes, yes! This is what you are, this is what we are! Show me, teach me! Let me be privy to the secret arts to make sparks themselves cry! Allow me, older brother, to learn."

Brother.

The smirk widens as he watches plating close, wires snapping together, tubing sealing.

And the monster rises again.

"I've told you. I. Am not. Your brother!" The smirk is now a snarl as he jumps, large servos reaching for him—

His null-blades pierce them as if they weren't there, the impulse sending them back along the large frame, thudding to the ground hard enough that his inner workings tremble—or is it a shudder of delight?—as the rounded but blazing tips of his weapons pierce the earth itself, keeping the beast immobilized as he brings his servos up—

And sinks them into unarmored seams, making the monster shriek and buckle as he rips plating off, as he tugs cables and Energon lines free from their protective casing, as he curls a clawed servo around a large spark casing—

A shriek of metal and Starscream is suddenly on his back on the ground, the beast looming over him with a delightful cackle and wide grin, green optics poisoning the mist with their light as a large Energon-stained servo caves his chest in with the weight pressing on it, as broken linkages, wires and tubes dangle from a torso ripped open, bathing him in tingly blue liquid.

"Yes, yes! More, show me more!"

So he pulls his helm back, even if it's already digging into the dirt, and opens his mouth far more than soft flexi-metal and thin faceplate cabling could ever allow for, feels them break, and rip, and Energon fills his intake—

And thrusts his helm up as much as he can, and the sickeningly curious creature leaning closer to him finds itself with denta clamping on its throat.

The monster lets out a broken static-filled screech, the voice box crunching between his denta as more and more Energon slips down his intake, and trashes and tries to pull back, but the servo is still holding the Seeker down and his grip on delicate cabling won't be broken, so Starscream grins as much as possible with a mouthful of wires and linkages as the thing's neck is ripped apart by its very efforts to break free.

Despite no longer being able to talk, for the voice box is still between the Flier's denta, the beast laughs.

And laughs.

And there's joy and hatred and hunger and thirst and prey, just over there, so let'S FEAST—

Starscream bites harder on the cabling still in his mouth, still connected to the already repairing frame, and pulls.

And whatever remained attached to the monster's frame is tugged out of it with a shower of Energon and sparks.

The monster shrieks in silence, clawed dactyls digging in the Seeker's sides as his torso is further crushed, as another large Energon-stained servo reaches for his own throat, but he doesn't care.

He's laughing.

Claws pierce lines and wires and linkages and dent the neck strut, but Starscream keeps laughing as the beast's optics meet his, as Energon falls again to paint the world a macabre vibrant blue.

And he laughs.

And knows that the monster is laughing too.

And why would they not?

It just takes a look around to see the progress they've made, every single frame broken and grayed out, and each and every scream and plea and whimper forever engraved in their memory, and what a waste! They all died too quickly, there wasn't enough—

—terror in their voices, echoing in his processor, and black lifeless optics staring up at him with horror or pleadingly as curled servos reach for the one that destroyed them all, chests ripped apart to show the world the cracked spark-chambers, empty, but their glow, their last flash, forever etched in his memory—

And the laughing stops as the beast lifts him up from his pierced neck.

He knows what it wants.

What they want.

So, he smirks widely again and tilts his helm to the horrified beings huddling against the rocks, to that Maximal, and Predacon, and Decepticon, and feels their fear, their terror, and relishes in it.

He knows what it wants.

What they want.

And what he has to do.

"Run." Chocked, barely a whisper, but the three Cybertronian jerk at what was his voice.

And Ramjet, foolish, stupid and angry at him, is the first to defy his orders by lifting his arms and shooting the beast.

Energon ignites and the world becomes fire.

When Starscream falls, it is with a leaking but free neck, outer layers of plating dripping to the ground in molten rivulets of platinum.

But the world is no longer blue,

He knows what he has to do, and what he wants.

The monster cackles silently, rising once more, its own plating deforming with the heat of Energon-powered flames.

Voiceless as it is, it still speaks louder than the crackling of fire, than the roaring of approaching jets, than Blackarachnia's scared shriek as she falls down the gouge the explosion has thrown her, than Silverbolt's efforts to fly for her.

He feels it all, but the beast is felt stronger, heard loudest.

But fire burns, and melts, and the blazing pain anchors him and allows the unwanted bond to be closed forevermore.

"I am not your brother!"

The Seeker charges, and they crash like two planetoids, both cracking and breaking, but either destroying each other, becoming one—

Or one of them turning into space debris.

The fall is long, mist filling the canyon, and the only indication it has a bottom is when the sound of metal crashing against rock is heard.

Dangling from Primal's servo, staring at the abyss that has eaten the beast, Starscream laughs again.

And this time, there's only one voice echoing in his processor.

Protoform X regains consciousness when he's pulled out of the CR Tank.

His processor, his spark, is empty once more.

But he can feel the bond, the siren call that can't be resisted for too long, for once charged Energon has been tasted, nothing else will ever suffice.

And he doesn't want anything else to suffice.

What he wants is the bond to open, to see more, to learn more, from the being that extinguishes sparks without laying a single dactyl on the frame, but that does so for its own amusement.

"Welcome to the Predacons, Rampage." A voice calls, snapping him out of his musings.

Big, black, purple and copper, and sitting on a command chair as if it was a throne, and a deep blue one with a curved upwards tail on a hovering platform next to him.

"And what makes you think that I want to join?" He hisses, already finding seams on torsos and areas where cabling is unprotected.

He will enjoy deactivating those two…

And the lava under them… Why, it gives a mech ideas.

"Besides the fact I have this…" A tiny box, the inside lined with Energon crystals—and containing a piece of his spark.

This mech, this Predacon has his very function in his servo… and he can make it very painful…

However, pain is nothing, he has dealt with it before.

But the mech has said 'besides'.

There's an offer, to go along the threat.

"Tell me, Rampage. Would you like to face your brother again?"

And the newly named Rampage straightens, large and menacing and ever grinning, even if only one has ever been able to know it is so.

"Predacons, you said? I like the name…"

AN: Is there someone still there? Yes? Well, if it is because you skipped the gory part, here's the promised summary:

After finding Silverbolt and Blackarachnia, Starscream asks to be told of the reason for their terror and Tarantulas' state, but, halfway through the explanation, he starts hearing a voice in his head, and remembering scenes of massacres. Protoform X suddenly appears in all his crab-y glory, before transforming. Ramjet flies away, Silverbolt gets ready to fight, and Blackarachnia's shriek snaps Starscream out of the illusion—though he still hears the voice, can feel the fear in the sparks of those surrounding him, and keeps seeing some more gruesome scenes. Protoform X knocks Silverbolt and Blackarachnia out of the way, only to focus on Starscsream and call him his brother, stating that they can both feel the other. Stuck in some kind of trance, Starscream almost agrees to killing the other Cybertronian, but is snapped out of it by memories of the promise he made to the other Decepticons about getting them home. Thus, he turns on Protoform X, who identifies his feather-blades as null-rays—null-blades—and cackles and keeps asking to be taught more, even though Starscream is ripping him apart... and enjoying it. However, Protoform X's accelerated self-repair heals him, and things take a turn for the worse when Starscream is caught. And that's when he orders the other three to run, and Ramjet decides to fire instead, making the Energon leaking from their wounds explode. The shock wave throws Blackarachnia off a cliff, Silverbolt jumps after her, and Starscream charges and throws X down a mist-filled canyon, only to be caught by Optimus before he can also fall, the unwanted bond closed and no longer hearing the voice in his head.

End of the summary

About the chapter... well, the argument between Ramjet and Starscream had been long-coming, and hey! The events of last chapter weren't a complete loss, Starscream hacked the Vok! ... About the rest... Huh... Let's welcome Protoform X? Creepy fella, though Megatron still scares me more. Is that weird?

Only one thing left:

I solemnly swear that I will not write another M rated chapter for this fic ever again (and if you think this oath sounds similar to something out of Harry Potter, you aren't wrong).