"Daddy?"
Megatron had been standing in the doorway of the ramshackle building that he and Caliber had taken refuge in, scanning the horizon for potential threats, but that small voice drew his gaze down. The sparkling stood at his side, one hand resting on his father's leg, the other clutching his stuffed griffon by one leg. His amber optics were wide and bright… and full of a trust that made Megatron's throat tubing clench.
"Go inside, Caliber," Megatron ordered gently. "I'll be in shortly."
Caliber nodded. "Are we gonna go home soon?"
His throat clenched again, and he responded with yet another lie in the vast sea of lies his reign had become. "Not today, Caliber. But with any luck, soon."
"Okay." He patted his father's leg and wandered back into the building.
Megatron allowed himself one last sweep of the horizon, taking in the rocky, nameless world that had become their refuge. They had happened upon this building purely by chance, staggering through its doorway exhausted and close to shutdown. Perhaps it had once been a prospector's camp, or just the home of an extremely antisocial hermit… but any former occupants had vanished, leaving behind a few crates of equipment and - miraculously - a few cubes of energon, harsh-tasting but a lifesaving elixir for the two fleeing mechs.
He stepped back from the doorway, shutting the door behind him. His hands trembled, and he squeezed them into fists to still them. Slaggit, he couldn't show weakness around his son. Not now… not until he knew the sparkling had a chance at safety.
They were on the very fringes of known space now - another day's travel would take them into the Unknown Regions. Such a leap into the unknown could mean safety… or instant death. He had no way of knowing, but had he been traveling on his own he might have risked it. If what he found in unexplored space was deadly… well, better to die on his own terms than let himself be taken.
But he wasn't alone. Caliber was his first priority. And now that it was clear that they were at the end of their flight, it was time he did the right thing for once. For his son's sake.
Caliber was in the innermost chamber of the shack, sitting on the thin sleeping pad and chattering away at his griffon plush. Megatron fetched their last cube of energon and sat down beside him. The jagged crack in his side, a memento from Bluestreak's rifle during one of their desperate escapes, sent streaks of fire along his sensory network as he moved, and he clenched his jaw to keep from hissing in pain. The wound was already deeply infected, caked with rust, but he ignored it for now.
"Put the toy aside for now," he told Caliber, handing him the cube. "It's time to refuel."
Caliber nodded and took the cube. "How much?"
"A quarter, no more," Megatron replied. "This has to last us awhile."
The sparkling looked down at the cube, then back up at his father. "Did you drink any, Daddy?"
"I'll refuel when you sleep," Megatron assured him. "Now drink."
Caliber nodded and drank, carefully watching each swallow to make sure he didn't take more than the allotted quarter. Megatron would take a sip or two later, no more, to ensure he didn't fall into stasis lock before he could do what needed to be done for his son. And he would dilute what was left, to make it stretch as long as possible. It wouldn't last forever… but hopefully it would be enough.
"Done, Daddy." He handed the cube back. "Time for recharge?"
"Soon," Megatron replied. "We need to talk, first."
Caliber gazed up into his optics, and despite his young age he seemed to read the seriousness in his father's face. "What is it, Daddy?"
"The Autobots," he replied, and frowned as Caliber shivered in fright. "I know… they have chased us for a long time. But they won't hurt you. They've fought against our people for countless stellar cycles, but they don't hurt sparklings."
"Will they hurt you?" Caliber asked.
Megatron hated ignoring a direct question from his son, but the truth would only frighten him further. "If the Autobots come… go with them."
"But Daddy…"
"Don't fight them," Megatron urged, "and don't run. Go with them." He rested his hands on the sparkling's shoulders. "They will be kind to you, and will take care of you while I'm gone. Do you understand me?"
Caliber shivered under his hands. "Where are you going, Daddy?"
"Nowhere for now… but I may have to go soon. Can you do what I asked you if I have to leave you? Do you understand?"
From the puzzled look on his son's face, Megatron knew he didn't fully understand - he was a child, he couldn't comprehend the one mech who had been the foundation of his life abandoning him. But he nodded anyhow. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good." He squeezed his shoulders lightly, then let his hands drop. "Rest, little one. I'll watch over you."
"Okay." Caliber lay down, curling up on the sleeping pad with his griffon hugged tightly against his chest.
Megatron pulled the thermal blanket over him, tucking him in and rubbing his back until he slipped into recharge. And he continued to sit with him throughout the night, just watching him rest. He had no idea how much time he had left before the Autobots came and separated them forever, and he wanted to make each astrosecond count.
Elita emerged from Orion's bedroom, optics bright with fear. "He's not here. Nothing of his is gone, but there's no sign of him."
Prime had faced down countless terrifying situations - the deadly end of a gun, the eyes or optics of a predator, a friend's life in danger, a planet on the cusp of destruction. But each time he had been able to tamp down his fear and act decisively to resolve the situation. There had been times he'd broken down and vented his panic later, but in private, after the threat was gone and those he cared for were safe.
Not this time. Now, learning that both his sons were missing, panic threatened to choke him entirely. He wanted to scream, to curl up in his quarters and shake uncontrollably, to charge out into the streets and tear Iacon apart until he found his sons…
No. Calm down. Vent. Giving in to panic won't help anyone - not Orion or Caliber, not Elita, not yourself. You can't give in to it… not yet.
"He must have gone to find Caliber on his own," Prime said at last. "That would be like him. I just wish he'd told one of us he was going."
"He knew we would have stopped him." Elita braced herself against the doorframe, venting deeply to regain her composure. "I'm calling the police again. With both our sons missing, they HAVE to act now."
"I'll let the others know," Prime replied. "And tell those with children to return home and keep an optic on their young ones. We can't have all of them running off to search for-"
Shouts broke out in the living room, and Ironhide's voice rang out over the babble.
"Get your aft in here, Prime! We got us an escaped 'Con!"
Prime's spark sank. Why did calamities always seem to come in threes? He ducked into his and Elita's quarters, grabbed his gun from the safe, and hurried out to face this latest crisis.
"What's going on?" he demanded of Prowl as he charged into the room.
"He crawled out of a ventilation grate," Prowl explained. "Windblade spotted him and managed to put herself between him and his escape route. I doubt he expected your apartment to be quite so crowded."
"A cassette, then?" Prime frowned, suspicion pricking him. If it was who he thought it was, then perhaps this latest "crisis" was actually the arrival of an ally.
"Yes," Prowl replied. "They frequently manage to slip past the guards at the correctional facility…"
Mechs parted to give Prime a glimpse of the fugitive in question… and he immediately lowered his gun. "Hold your fire! Hound, let him go!"
Hound had tackled the rogue cassette to the floor and was wrestling him into submission, but he glanced up at Prime with a shocked expression. "But sir-"
"Let him go," Prime repeated. "I'll explain later. Ravage, whatever you do, don't run when he lets you up. I promise you that you're under my protection so long as you're in this room."
"Are you fraggin' nuts, Prime?" Ironhide growled.
"Yes I am," Prime replied. "My children stole my sanity vorns ago. Let him up, Hound."
Hound hesitated, then released Ravage and pushed himself to his feet. The panther lay on the floor a moment, limbs spread in all directions like a bearskin rug from a human cartoon, then staggered to his feet and gave himself a thorough shake.
That was entirely unnecessary, he snapped over the comms of everyone in the room.
"Don't trust Soundwave's pets!" Grimlock roared.
Pets, Ravage repeated disdainfully. This coming from Wheeljack's own pet-
"Enough," Prime ordered. "Autobots, Piston, Windblade, you might as well know - Ravage has been keeping an optic on Caliber, but only to keep Soundwave updated on his condition."
"That's not suspicious at all," Prowl replied, and only the tactician-turned-governor could make his voice so flat and so sarcastic all at once.
It isn't what you think, Ravage retorted, audial receptors pinned back. Soundwave regards himself as a parental figure to Caliber - certainly more of one than Shockwave ever was. He only wants to be reassured that Caliber is safe. After all, he would hate for all the effort he put into keeping him safe to go to waste.
Prime recalled Soundwave's interrogation after his capture, and shivered at the memory of snapped wires and a missing vocalizer. "Caliber and Orion have both gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"
Ravage's receptors pricked up as he turned to face Prime. That's precisely why I'm here. I don't have an idea where they might be - I know exactly what's become of them.
The room erupted at that, shouts and demands drowning out anything else Ravage might have to say. Prime had to bellow for silence twice before the chaos finally settled.
"What's happened to them?" Elita demanded. "Who's taken our sons?"
The answer came like a punch in the abdominal plates - Shockwave and Tarn. The former survived the destruction of his tower with help from the latter, and they intend to make an example of Orion and force Caliber to lead a second Decepticon army against Cybertron.
The Decepticon Resistance was small in numbers, but its underground network of tunnels and weapon caches sprawled beneath Kaon like a vast silicon-spider web. And Caliber knew he and Orion were thoroughly lost in said tunnels, having taken so many twists and turns that there was no hope of retracing their steps. Ravage might have been able to find the way back… but he had abandoned them what felt like hours ago. And though he knew the cassette was probably trying to find help, his departure still stung.
Not that the two of them had gotten this deep into the network of their own volition. Orion was cuffed and chained, practically being dragged by two hulking mechanisms Shockwave had introduced as Razorclaw and Strika. Caliber walked unbound… but flanked on either side by Shockwave and Tarn, who steered his course with a hand on either shoulder. He gave the illusion of walking under his own power, but knew that neither his creator nor the leader of the Justice Division had any qualms about cuffing him if he showed any sign of bolting.
Orion caught Caliber's optic and flashed a grin - a strained, frightened grin, but a grin nonetheless. Caliber didn't respond but kept his gaze on their path as they walked. He knew Orion was trying to lighten the mood and assure him that everything would turn out all right, but the gesture did nothing to settle the churning in his tanks.
"So… you guys are actual 'Cons, huh?" asked Orion, looking back and forth between the yellow-and-red mech and the magenta-and-gold femme. "Is it some kinda requirement that you have to get whacked several dozen times with the ugly stick before you're allowed to join up?"
Razorclaw responded with a blow to Orion's side that made him double over cursing. "Shut your trap, Prime-spawn, or we'll gut you here and now."
"Enough, Razorclaw," Shockwave ordered. "It is not your place to destroy the son of Optimus Prime. The honor belongs to another."
Orion's optics paled in horror, but his vocalizer kept running anyhow. "You do realize my dad is going to come down here and kick all your afts, right? Well, not Caliber's, but the rest of you. You do NOT wanna see him fragged off, trust me!"
"We are counting on your father coming here," Tarn replied, his voice rich with menace. "And we are greatly looking forward to seeing the heir of Megatron accomplish what Megatron himself never had the opportunity to do."
Caliber froze in his tracks, forcing the entire group to stop with him. "You can't… I won't! I won't kill Optimus Prime!"
Shockwave shook his head. "It's clear that your time in the care of the Autobots has softened you, Caliber. I intended to raise you and train you to be ready to assume the Decepticon throne, but Optimus Prime saw fit to undo everything I sought to accomplish when he took you in as his foundling. If we're to reverse the damage, drastic action must be taken."
Caliber shook his head, not wanting to hear this, but Shockwave continued anyhow: "Optimus Prime and Orion will perish today… at your hands. You will cut off the ties to your past with your own hands, and be free to pursue the future that is rightfully yours."
Caliber's tanks heaved, and it took all his strength not to purge them right there. "I… I won't. I refuse. Optimus Prime raised me when no one else would! Orion's like a brother to me! I can't-"
"That is precisely why you must destroy them," Shockwave replied, his voice icier than Caliber had ever heard it. "Your past is a weight that will drag you down into oblivion. If you are to fully realize your destiny, you must destroy that past utterly. Only then will you be able to assume the leadership of the Decepticon Resistance."
"How many times do I have to tell you?!" Caliber shouted, wrenching free of Shockwave and Tarn's hands. "This isn't my destiny! I don't want to lead the Resistance! I want to go home, read my books, apply for medical school, argue with my brother, go to the holopics with my friends. I want my life back! Not… this!"
"You will dishonor your parents, then?" Tarn rumbled, optics narrowing behind his vicious mask. "You will throw away everything they've sacrificed and spit in their faces?"
"Technically his carrier doesn't even have a face-" Orion quipped, then grunted as Strika clobbered him in the back of the helm. "Ow… worth it…"
Caliber raised his chin, trying his hardest to look confident despite the churning in his tanks and the shaking in his struts. "Megatron is my father, and I honor him by choosing my own destiny. Optimus Prime and Elita-1 took me in when there were mechs who would have seen me imprisoned or killed, and raised me despite knowing I was the son of their worst enemy. They are my parents… and you might have carried my spark, Shockwave, but you are not my parent. Because my parent wouldn't be forcing me to murder those I care about to suit his own agenda."
Orion grinned widely. "You tell 'em, bro."
Shockwave's headfins pinned back - an expression Caliber remembered as one of deep anger. And too late he remembered that though his carrier was careful to maintain a calm facade at all times, that didn't mean he lacked emotion. And that he didn't have to fly into a frothing rage for his anger to be dangerous.
"Cuff him, Tarn," Shockwave ordered, voice so cold it could have frozen nitrogen. "Carry him the rest of the way if you must. When Optimus Prime comes, he and Orion will die at Caliber's hand… even if we must place the gun in his hand and pull the trigger for him."
Sirens ripped through the evening air as Optimus Prime, Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Ratchet sped down the highway, hot on the heels of a black feline form. The casual observer might assume that the Autobots were in pursuit of a Decepticon fugitive - an understandable observation. But Ravage was no fugitive, and the Autobots weren't giving chase but keeping pace with the cassette, letting him lead them to where he had last seen Orion and Caliber.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Sideswipe noted. "Didn't we used to kick this kitty around like a football back during the war?"
"This 'kitty' is on our side," Ratchet reminded him. "And is our key to getting Prime's kids back in one piece. Still, it's kinda surreal when you think about it."
If you're done with the comedic banter, I should warn you that Shockwave has an army gathered, Ravage informed them. Not a large one, but you should probably have more backup than just four mechs.
"The Council has been alerted, and forces are being marshaled as we speak," Prowl replied. "We're hoping to get in and extract Orion and Caliber before fighting breaks out, though - we don't want them caught in the crossfire."
Prime couldn't help but bristle just slightly at mention of the Council. He wouldn't deny that they'd done a great deal for Cybertron since the war had come to an end, but he knew all too well their opinion of Caliber. And he feared that, while they wouldn't hesitate to rescue Orion, they'd be all too happy to consider Caliber an acceptable loss in this situation.
Ravage finally skidded to a halt outside the acid-scarred warehouse, collapsing onto his belly and panting as the Autobots pulled up and transformed. Here… there's a trapdoor leading to their underground network. I'll go with you as soon as I've rested a moment…
"You did well, Ravage," Prime told him, resting a hand on the cassette-panther's head. "We're in your debt… thank you."
Don't thank me yet. Not until Caliber and Orion are safe. Good luck to you.
"So what's the plan?" Sunstreaker asked, grimacing as he flinched away from a fiber-optic spiderweb. "There better be a plan that doesn't involve going through that trapdoor. Because going down into a tunnel network filled with vengeful Decepticons sounds like a great way to get slagged."
"Do you have a better plan, Sunspot?" Ratchet demanded.
"Some of us have actual self-preservation instincts," Sunstreaker retorted, jabbing a thumb at Sideswipe. "Unlike some idiots I could mention."
"Hey, we lived through the war, that's gotta count for something," Sideswipe shot back.
Prime opened his mouth to deliver an order - whether to shut up or to follow him down into the tunnels he hadn't decided yet - when his comm unit pinged. He raised a hand for silence and checked the unit… and felt his internals freeze.
Optimus Prime, respond immediately. The safety of your son is at stake.
Shockwave, he replied, and opened the channel to allow the others, Ravage included, to listen in. You sound rather healthy for a mech who was listed as KIA.
We can dispense with the banter Megatron was so fond of and cut straight to the point, Optimus, Shockwave replied. I have a proposition for you.
Prime exchanged a baleful look with Prowl and Ratchet. Whatever proposition Shockwave had to offer would be heavily balanced in the former Guardian of Cybertron's favor, no matter what words he spoke. If they accepted it, they would be playing right into his hands. But would they have any other choice?
Speak, Prime ordered. What proposition?
Your son is in our custody. Report to the former gladiator arena at the heart of Kaon within the next cycle, and we can negotiate the terms of his release. Refuse, and Orion of Iacon dies. And with that, Shockwave cut the connection.
"It's a trap," Prowl said immediately. "You go there, Orion dies anyhow, and probably you with him."
"I know," Prime replied.
"But we're going anyway." It was a statement, not a question.
"We are," Prime told him. "I will not let my sons come to harm at Shockwave or Tarn's hands. Not when it's still in my power to do something to prevent it." He nodded at Prowl. "Stay here and command whatever forces the Council sends to put down the Decepticon Resistance. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, follow me to the arena. Ratchet, go to the gates of Kaon and wait for Elita-1 and her escort, then follow whatever orders she gives you."
Ratchet snorted. "You actually had the gears to demand Elita get an escort?"
"The escort isn't for her," Prime replied. "It's for whom I've asked her to fetch to help us."
Elita strode down the corridor of Kalis' high-security correctional facility, flanked on either side by guards and the warden tagging along unhappily behind her. The sight of the pink-and-white femme, elegant and sleek in stark contrast to the rugged build of the guards and other prison workers, seemed ludicrous at first glance, and more than one guard who had tried to halt Elita's progress had assumed she'd be meekly turned away at the first show of force. All of them had been stared down or turned away themselves by the steel in her spark and voice.
Elita-1 was on a mission, and Primus help the mechanism that tried to stand in her way.
"I repeat, you have no authorization to remove Megatron from his cell," Bastille snapped, hurrying after Elita. "His trial doesn't commence for another quatrex at the very least, and he's not to be removed save for pre-approved visitation-"
"Under normal circumstances," Elita replied. "But these are far from normal circumstances. And I have the authorization of Optimus Prime himself to take him into my custody."
"But do you have the authorization of the Autobot Council?" Bastille retorted.
Elita looked over her shoulder to give the warden a cool glare. "You certainly don't need the Council's authorization to allow Megatron to have visits with his son. Or to allow any number of clandestine operations to occur here. I'm fully aware of what kind of… commerce… can be allowed in a correctional facility."
Bastille's optics narrowed to slits. "Are you threatening me?"
"Merely pointing out facts," Elita replied. "If you have an issue with what I'm doing, take it up with the Prime. Otherwise, unlock the door."
Bastille snorted, then stepped forward and keyed open the door. It slid open to reveal a small cell, unfurnished save a low recessed bench built into the back and side walls. Megatron had been hunched over a datapad, absorbed in writing something, but glanced up sharply as the corridor lights flooded his cell.
"Elita-1," he noted, setting the datapad down. "This is unexpected."
Elita stepped into the cell, surprised at how little fear she had of the former Decepticon warlord - though her worry over Orion and Caliber probably had more to do with that than anything else. "Megatron, come with me. You're being temporarily released into my custody."
His optics flashed in surprise. "What's the meaning of this?"
"There's a situation in Kaon," she replied shortly. "One that we need your help in resolving."
Megatron looked ready to protest, but Elita opened a private communications channel with him. He wouldn't be able to reply over the comm - that ability was stripped from prisoners upon arrival - but she trusted he would hear and know to school his expression enough to keep Bastille from guessing what was going on.
Shockwave is alive, and he's kidnapped our sons. She fought to keep her voice level, but it hitched on "sons" anyhow. Shockwave has always listened to you - can you talk him down, and convince him to release Orion and Caliber without further oilshed?
Megatron's optic shutters widened, and his jaw clenched in mounting fury and fear. But he composed himself remarkably quickly and gave a quick nod. He would comply.
"Cuff him for now," Elita ordered. "Then get him to the transport. I want us out of here yesterday!"
"Yes, ma'am!" The guards saluted and rushed to comply.
"Whatever you're taking him for," Bastille muttered, "it had better be worth it."
Elita knew it would be worth it… provided it succeeded. All their hopes were hinging on Megatron now, as ridiculous as it was to believe it. Now they could only hope he could convince Shockwave to do the right thing.