A/N: Hello again. I present you with the third chapter.
Note: Coppergleam is my OC.
Thank you to Sarielgrace and an anonymous reviewer for their reviews!
Disclaimer: Transformers could never be owned by me. I just own Coppergleam, the plot, and youngling Optimus and Megatron's character.
Location: Earth
Megatron zipped through the groundbridge. He could hear Starscream's high, talon-against-metal, screeching voice screaming obscenities at the Autobots before he even saw the other side of the portal. Mentally grinding his dentae, Megatron resolved to "teach" the Seeker his place once again, if only for using that voice of his. Then he smirked. He was Megatron, Decepticon Warlord, bane of the Autobots, soon-to-be Conqueror of the Universe. He could do whatever he wanted, which included beating his traitorous coward of a Second in Command simply because he felt like it.
No one would dare stop him. According to Soundwave, the troops still feared to even think of what happened to the stupid, idiotic officer who dared to challenge Megatron a few thousand vorns ago, at the start of the war. Needless to say, none but Starscream had been glitched enough to challenge Megatron's leadership so fiercely since that… rather unfortunate incident. Which was just as well. Another feral smirk graced the warlord's faceplates. He had truly struck fear into the sparks of thousands that orn.
Coming back to the situation at hand as he transformed and landed in the middle of the fight, almost crushing a vehicon under his pedes in the process, his bloodred optics immediately locked onto Prime.
Oh, he saw the purple femme – Arcee, was it? – and her sisters taking on a few vehicons. The big, green bulky one was repeatedly hitting Breakdown in the faceplates. He saw the weapon toting black mech eating the troops alive; that mech was Prime's bodyguard for a reason, Megatron supposed. He also saw the lithe silver frame of a certain Autobot officer wreaking havoc on the battlefield.
… What?!
Megatron did a double take at the saboteur. What? He had ripped that mech in half in that blasted human city! How in the name of Primus up above did the slagging little minibot manage to survive that?
Jazz laughed as he whirled by, shooting at an enraged Barricade. "Miss me, Buckethead?"
Megatron growled as he shot at the passing silver saboteur, who dodged said shot. As he moved to shoot at him again, his attention was drawn away as Optimus Prime entered his field of view.
"Prime. What a lovely surprise this is." There it was again. As soon as the Prime was 300 meters away, Megatron felt a light tug at his spark. A faint urge to kneel and sub – frag! He was not going to give in to his enemy.
"Megatron."
With a ferocious snarl, he leapt forward at Optimus, his blade clashing against Optimus's. Over their crossed arms, Megatron could see into Prime's disgustingly blue optics. Sadness and regret still shimmered in the blue depths, even after so long. Prime… he was so sad. Why the frag was his Prime –
Megatron snarled again, pushing against Optimus, and leaped back. They went at each other like that. The rest of the battlefield forgotten, the raging battle around them a faraway thing, the sounds of screaming mechs a buzz against their fields. They fought.
When they fought, it was always like a dance. Both knew the other's patterns, moves, and capabilities quite intimately. A violent, dangerous but at the same time invigorating dance. They lashed out each other with their blades. They punched, kicked, slashed, cut, and shot each other repeatedly. It was the most alive Megatron had felt in so long. Yet, at the same time, his spark kept insisting for him to stop inflicting harm and bow to Prime. Like Pit that was going to happen. He would sooner blown himself up and allow Starscream to lead the Decepticons than submit to Prime.
Megatron was shaken from his brief internal battle as a sharp stab of pain lanced up his right arm and he doubled over as Optimus took advantage of his momentary distraction to kick at his already injured abdomen.
He would not win this fight.
Knowing the eventual outcome of this fight, and grudgingly accepting the fact that Optimus had won this one, he ordered Soundwave to open a groundbridge.
"Decepticons, retreat!"
With that, Megatron transformed and flew into the groundbridge, leaving behind the victorious (this time) Autobots. Unbeknownst to him, he had also left behind him a spark-torn Prime.
O.o.O.o.O
Location: Nemesis, Earth
The warlord stormed through the bridge of the ship, past the communications hub, purposefully bypassing the medbay (he really had no patience for Knockout's blabbering), and into his private quarters. When the massive doors closed behind him, Megatron turned and abruptly punched the wall, causing the entire wall to shake from the force. More energon flowed from his broken digits.
Snarling, he shook off the energon droplets, ignoring the flares of pain. Tired, confused, in pain and thoroughly slagged, he didn't fight the memory that his traitorous processor pushed forward. He let himself sink into his younglinghood.
O.o.O.o.O
Location: Tyger Pax, Cybertron
Silverstreak woke from his fitful recharge at the gentle brush of Orion against their bond, the light poking of a digit on his backstrut, and an unfamiliar, menacing, growling voice.
"Orion! What the frag are you doing? I slagging told you to leave your brother alone and let him recharge in peace. You're going to wake him, you little –"
Silverstreak opened his optics. Everything looked fuzzy and blurry. Then a flash of red passed in front of his faceplates, and suddenly, he saw the blurred, grinning faceplates of his brother.
"Streaker! You're up!" Orion said happily.
"Fragging great. You woke him up. I hope you're proud, Orion." There was the growling voice again. What was going on? Were they in trouble? How did the mech know Orion's designation?
Silverstreak focused his optics and saw a huge red and white mech looming over him. The mech reached out and plucked Orion off of him and set him down somewhere else, despite the protests. Then he saw the scowling faceplates of the mech. He shrunk back in fear and reached across the bond to Orion.
~Orion? Who – who is this strange mech? ~
~S'okay, Streaker. His name is Ratchet. He says he's a doctor. ~
"Listen up, youngling. Silverstreak, was it? My designation is Ratchet; I am a certified doctor in Tyger Pax."
Silverstreak only stared back with wide optics. The scary mech was still scowling. Only, he was glaring now too. He said he was a doctor. Doctors were good, right? Docbots were good. They fixed mechs ups, not hurt them. Plus, Orion had said he was okay. Ratchet was a good mech. Ratchet was a good mech. Ratchet was a good mech.
"See here. I found your two sorry afts in some alleyway, and brought you here to fix you up, since you obviously have no family. You've been in my little clinic for two orns now." Ratchet scowled again. "I can't keep you, so get better real quick." Ratchet shoved half a cube of energon in his servos and left.
Orion climbed back onto the berth Silverstreak was on and snuggled into his side.
"Ratchet's real nice, Streaker. He sounds mean, but he real nice. He's funny too and guess what?"
When Silverstreak didn't reply, Orion rolled his optics. "Fine, I'll tell you even though you didn't guess. Ratchet swears even more than Ironhide! Once I saw him throw a funny shaped metal thing at a dark blue mech and it hit him in the head, and then Ratchet started swearing and yelling at the mech for a looooong time."
Now fully roused from recharge, Silverstreak rolled his optics. "That's not possible. How can someone swear more the Ironhide? Everyone knows 'Hide knows more swear words than anybody."
"Yeah, but they don't know Ratchet. He's really awesome –"
Ratchet walked back in at that precise moment, an optic ridge rising at Orion's praise. The scowl turned to a smirk.
"Good to know some bots on Cybertron and the moons have some sense." He came around to Silverstreak's berth and studied him. Then he pulled out a scanner. Recognizing the tool from visits from Coppergleam, the stuck up Towers doctor, Silverstreak relaxed and sat very still though Orion was shifting against him.
Blue light washed over his frame in a very thin, flat beam, the scanner beeping occasionally. Then another scan – this one was green. Ratchet wanted to check everything, so Silverstreak had to endure half a joor of scans and other stuff Ratchet did with a funny machine.
When Silverstreak thought the grumpy medic was done, he asked Ratchet was he was staring at on the display screen of the machine. Ratchet just grunted. Then he looked at him and Orion in awe, Silverstreak thought, and patted them on the helm and told them about their bond. Apparently, his bond with Orion was special. They were special.
Orion grinned at Silverstreak at that, and pressed closer into him. Then Ratchet left them to themselves. They slowly fell back into recharge together, mourning their Creators and missing the Prime and his bodyguard. Wondering what had happened. But despite the fact that their entire life had been uprooted in such a short time, it was a little better now. They were safe with Ratchet. Maybe, one day, everything would finally be okay.