Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers.
Special thanks to Sneefee for allowing me to use her beautiful artwork as the cover photo for "Insatiable"!
XVI
(ii)
The thick, black fume of melting metal and evaporating acid rainwater hit my olfactory receptors. Had I been in base mode, I would have grimaced. Spitting out curses of disgust, I tried my best to ignore the sour, putrid scent, and pointed my nosecone downward. The sheer heat rising from the western quadrant made quite a feat out of my descent.
The hot, ascending air irritated my intakes system. It blasted debris particles against the sensitive flight sensors in my wings. The currents were erratic. The wind howled. The heat below clashed with the cold from the sky, and their frantic, irregular surges of scorching and freezing air caused frustrating problems for the stupid cloak.
I slowed down, leveled, and began to circle the area. My Seeker troops were below me, flying in formation as I travelled above them by a few wingspans. The first line of ground pounders were drawing near, large cannons and rifles holstered on their shoulders. Many of them carried artillery weapons I had never seen before, rousing suspicion and wariness from my spark as I laid sight upon them.
Ramjet appeared around a tower, and hurried to fall in line with my flight path when he noticed me.
:Prince Starscream,: He sent me an inquiring comm., :Are you sure it's wise for you to be here on site?:
:Where else am I supposed to be if not with my Seekers?: I snapped back at him, annoyed with his pestering.
:You are our Crown Prince, my liege. You should not place yourself in a position of danger.: Ramjet was persistent, giving his thrusters a boost of speed as he tailed me. :Requesting permission to escort you back to your tower, Sire.: He came up closer, and the tip of his nosecone brushed against the air only Thundercracker could take.
:I am not an inexperienced princeling, Ramjet. I will not cower.: A sneer entered my voice. :And get your nosecone out of my trine mate's place!:
Ramjet jolted, and immediately slowed out of Thundercracker's spot.
:I'm not suggesting you are inexperienced or a coward, your Highness,: Despite my reprimand, he continued to press, :However, your presence will only hinder us.:
I growled in threat, but Ramjet did not take heed in the slightest.
:Your safety is now my first and foremost priority, Sire,: He said,:which will distract me and my Seekers.:
My wing-joints tensed, and irritation flared from my spark.
:Have you not heard me, general?: Whipping around with a daring flip, I threw Ramjet off my flight path. :Your first and foremost priority is to slag the Autobots!: I gritted, :Stop challenging my authority and do as I say! I would hate to repeat myself again.: With a snarled warning, I severed our line, and shot off deeper into the sector.
Ramjet must have been fried in the processors if he thought I could be brought down by stupid ground pounders. I was the fastest Seeker in all of Vos! I refused to believe that the Autobots of all mechs could come up with something that could take flight away from me. Besides, I knew how much of a distraction I was to my soldiers, as most of them had never seen me this up close before. I did not plan on remaining here in the ruins. I was here to survey the damage, but also to find one missing Space Shuttle.
Nightfire's comm. had gone down, which could mean one of three things: his comm.-system had been damaged, he was in stasis-lock, or he was deactivated. I sincerely hoped the reason for his comm. silence was not the last. Thus far, I had yet spotted his dark, large frame. In fact, I barely saw any pair of wings sticking out from the rubble – something that greatly unnerved me. Many fliers lived here. They could not have all been buried, could they? The only explanation I could think of was that most of them had already torn themselves out and flown off. I prayed to Primus that that was the case, though the sinking, cold dread in my spark suspected otherwise.
There was a loud succession of cannon shots in the distance behind me. They were the firsts. The battle had begun. The Autobots had set peds into my city. My null rays itched to shoot, the urge fueled stronger by Ramjet's battle cry. However, I quickly dispelled it, and reminded myself that I was here for Nightfire. Doing my best to ignore the foul smelling air, I peered down, and tried to see through the smoke and the fire. I slowed almost to a full stop to aid my search, and transformed back into base mode, as hovering was an easier task in mech form.
I descended further, closer to ground level, but maintained a safe distance. The laboured whirrs of my cooling fans were a mere whisper against the crackling of flames, under which rumbled the toppling of towers. The heat was overwhelming. My internal temperature was on a steady rise. Coolant raced through my systems, but they did little to quell the humidity trapped between my plating and my cloak. My derma was slick with condensation, and the fabric stuck, irritating the sensors in my wings.
I scanned the surrounding area, and set up a systematic search with references to my city's ground-plan. I kept a good pace, optics keen as they glided over the rubble, and paid especially close attention to the flickering shadows. Acid rainwater still pooled in large puddles, but most of it had, thankfully, drained out of my city. This made looking for Nightfire a little easier. I let out a bitter huff. At least some good came out of the labyrinth wall being destroyed.
A ping over my trine link momentarily took my attention. Aggravated, I paused in the air, and activated my comm..
:What do you want?: I answered, tone snappish.
:Starscream, what are you doing here?: Thundercracker came through, worry apparent even through the muffled noise of battle. :Ramjet said you're on site.:
:I'm looking for Nightfire!: I replied with more bite than Thundercracker deserved, but I was too annoyed with my tattle-tell general to care. :What are you doing comm.-ing me? Aren't you in battle?:
:Yes, but—: Thundercracker abruptly cut off. There was an explosion, followed by an echoing buzz of static, before he came back on the line. :Your presence is unnecessary. Return to your tower! We can't afford to—: A grunt, :-to have something happen to you!:
:If you don't start paying attention to what you're doing, we're going to lose you.: I tried to scold, but the sudden rise of concern from my spark was too strong to resist. My hands clenched, and the bottom of my spark chamber stung with pinpricks of cold. Thundercracker was stubborn. He refused to depart from comm., determined to convince me to return to my tower.
:Where are you?: He had to raise his voice to be heard over the gunfire,:Send me your coordinates. I'm accompanying you back.:
My intakes skidded in surprise, and my wings jolted. :You will do no such thing!: I shot back in haste,:And that is an order!: Insubordination was a price we could not afford on the battlefield, and I had to dissuade my trine mate before he broke formation and made Ramjet one fragged off general. Thundercracker, despite his peace-loving tendencies, was a good soldier. Based on my brief glimpse of the Autobot ground forces alone, I knew my Seekers needed every pair of wings they could get. :For pit's sakes, Thundercracker, I'm on the other side of the quadrant! I'll be fine! Get your processors back in the battle or I swear to Primus I'm going to demote you just so I can throw more authority on your aft!:
:Starscream—:
:My decision is final! Starscream, out.: I slammed our link shut, and ignored further pings from my blue trine mate. After a few kliks, more pings sounded, and I was pretty sure Skywarp was instructed to contact me. Intake spluttering from annoyance, I resumed my search, and paid no attention to any of the alerts. After a while, they died down.
I flew further into the sector, and dialed up the sensitivity in my flight sensors so I could pick up even the tiniest change in the air that could signal movement. It was difficult, as the cloak was a nuisance, and the currents were messy, but I needed every resource I had. Turning westward, I went over another block of ruins when a thin, high-pitched sound suddenly reached my audials. I instantly stilled, freezing in the sky, and tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, as it was not one I had been expecting to hear.
I could not distinguish what it was at first, and almost dismissed it as the wind when realization hit me like a smack in the processors. The sound was the sharp wailing of a distressed sparkling. The pitch and timber was very familiar as well. Throughout my vorns of existence, I've only had contact with a handful of sparklings, and this cry was very recent in my memory banks.
"Sunstorm…" I whispered, helm turned and optics wide toward the direction the sound was coming from. What was Sunstorm doing in the ruins? Why was he still here? What could possibly be plaguing the poor sparkling that would keep him at a battle-site instead of flying away with his creators?
I was torn.
On one wing, Nightfire was my only friend. He was one of the very few support pillars I still had, and I needed him online and functioning to continue fighting this war. I had promised myself since Skyfire's deactivation that I would protect the black Space Shuttle in place of his deceased sibling unit. It was all I could do, after all, with Skyfire's death being of my fault. I could not allow Nightfire to fall to the same fate, not when the cause, once again, was my own ignorance and stupidity.
On the other wing, Sunstorm was a terrified sparkling who had absolutely no chance of survival if he were, Primus forbid, found by the Autobots. Even worse than deactivation, what if he got kidnapped, and was taken back to Iacon? What then? I could not let a sparkling endure the same torture Firechaser was forced under. I did not know whether Sunstorm was with his creators or not, but judging by how much noise he was making, his creators were obviously unable to help him.
Cursing, I rubbed my faceplate, and hissed out an ex-vent. I could not decide. Each option weighed equally heavy on my spark. Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fists, and gritted my dentae. With a purely spontaneous impulse, I swirled around, and sped off toward Sunstorm without a single look back. Silently apologizing to Nightfire, I pressed down on the part of my spark loyal to the Space Shuttle. Nightfire was Chief Science Advisor of Vos. He would be the first to be saved, but the same could not be said of Sunstorm.
I hoped with my entire being that I was not making a terrible mistake.
"Sunstorm!" I called out as I flew, helm turning side to side as I scanned the ground with my optics. "Sunstorm! Where are you?" I changed my flight path several times, looking around every tower from all angles in search of the sparkling. As I shot past a half-demolished stub, movement yanked me into a skidding stop. To my right, at the foundation of my city, was Sunstorm, sitting beside a large piece of rubble.
I only recognized him from all the noise he was making. Slag me to the pits, I felt like averting my optics. What a paintjob the sparkling had gotten himself! His entire frame was bright orange bordering on the radiant yellow of a newborn sun, with only a few spots of white. Despite being covered in dust and filth, his plating shone, reflecting the light from the fire until he practically glowed.
His colours definitely matched his designation.
Shaking my helm clear of wandering thoughts, I tore my gaze from the sparkling, which was quite a difficult feat considering the fascination I had toward shiny things, and that Sunstorm stuck out like an orb amidst the gray of his surroundings with his optic-blinding colour scheme that—
I tore my gaze away from the sparkling, and only then did I notice a Seeker beside him, kneeling on the debris and shouting at something out of my view. I quickly recognized the Seeker as Sunstorm's carrier creator, Sunrift, who was also, funny enough now that I thought about it, orange and white. Breathy chuckles left my vocalizer, and I descended for landing. Sunstorm heard my thrusters, and his little helm jolted up, followed by his tiny arms that immediately reached toward me. He cried louder, making squealing trills, and his carrier visibly flinched at the sound. Optics wild and terrified, the Seeker flung his helm side to side. He looked for the reason behind his sparkling's change in demeanor, and his intakes hitched in stutters, fear flaring from his energy field.
"Sunrift," I addressed in a calm voice, saving him the trouble of becoming even more worked up than he already was, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be taking your sparkling and flying to safety?"
"Y-Your Highness…" Sunrift turned around, and let out a shaky whisper as he gazed up at me. His faceplate was smudged in black grime, and coolant spilled from his wide, bright optics, making tracks in the filth. Most of his frame suffered burns, paintjob stripped to flakes that crumbled. One of his wings had snapped in half, the tipped portion dangling by mere cables, and energon oozed, beading and sliding down until it bled into the other wounds littered over his body.
As I came closer, I realized that he was trembling, the agony of his injuries undoubtedly made worse by the heavy acid rain. With a flinch in my wings, I grimaced, and wished that I had an extra cloak to spare.
Stepping onto the ground, I made my way toward them, and glanced down at Sunstorm. To my relief, the sparkling appeared to be mostly unharmed, despite being frightened and dirty. The finish on his plating has not been eaten away by the acidity in the rain, which meant he was wearing repellent wax. However, this was no justification. There was no reason for his being here in the ruins, and a wave of incredulous anger overwhelmed me as I turned my attention back to Sunrift, a heated glare aimed at the shivering Seeker.
"I asked you a question, Sunrift. What in the pits are you still doing here?! I issued an evacuation half a joor ago!" My wings jerked on my back as I approached them, stopping a few paces away. "For Primus's sakes, at least get your sparkling out of here!" I sneered, fingers curling into my palms. "The Autobots are coming, and they will not treat you any different from a soldier."
"Sire—…" Sunrift choked on a sob, and he wiped at his faceplate, making an even greater mess on his cheekplates, "I—I can't." He sniffed. "I-I can't—…Please…Please help—"
"-Help who? Sunstorm?" My sneer grew. "Sunstorm needs his creator to snap out of it and carry him to safety! Have you not heard what I said? Get out of here before—"
"-No! No, your Highness!" Sunrift pleaded, and shuffled aside, "N-Not for Sunstorm, but—but for—…P-Please!" He shifted, and a black and violet wing came into view, sticking out from a crevice between the rubble.
My optics widened.
"…Is that—"
"-It's Blazewing, Sire!" Sunrift cut me off with a wail, and his faceplate crumpled into desperation. "I've been trying to dig him out, b-but I—…I can't—…I can't!"
A sob made his vocalizer glitch, and he jerked his chin down, as if ashamed. With a wavering breath, he crawled back to the wing, knees scraping against the muddy ground. He wrapped his energon-soaked hands around the jagged edge of the debris, one of many, and started to pull, joints creaking under the strain. The tower fragment did not move at all, and a pained, hopeless cry pieced through the rumbling silence of the ruins, wrung out of a vocalizer scratched with static.
Sunrift collapsed forward, vents disturbing the dust. For a while, he only laid there, bent over the fallen wall with the spiny support struts. With a sudden intake, his helm snapped upward, and he clutched around the rubble, uncaring that the broken thorns sliced open the derma of his fingers. Wings quivering, he screamed, frame rattling in spasms as he yanked at the debris pinning down the sire of his sparkling.
The severed wingtip swung in the air. Cables snapped, and energon spurted from fuel lines, splattering into puddles of rainwater that sizzled. Pain stabbed into my spark. It shook me to the core. With an alarmed cry, I leapt forward, and fell to my knees, hands grappling around his wrists and ripping him away.
"No! No—!" He shrieked at the sky, coolant tears glittering beads washing down his cheekplates in torrents. He fought me, bucking in a mad struggle to free himself, to save his bond mate. My spark clenched in my spark chamber. It burned and stung. With a purely instinctual impulse, I let go of his hands, and I embraced him, tugging his wounded, dirty frame right against the pristine glass of my canopy.
"Stop it, Sunrift! Stop it!" I shouted. "Think of your sparkling! Think of Sunstorm!"
I held my Seeker in my arms, refusing to leave him no matter of his protests and resistance. My voice cut through the terrified wailing of the small, panicking sparkling beside me, and it echoed between the broken towers, fading amidst the hollowed walls. "You have to get out of here! Help is coming," I implored his reason. "Blazewing will be saved! But you have to get out of here. You have to get Sunstorm out of here!"
"No! No!" Sunrift yanked at my arms, clamped around his torso, and reached for the black and violet wing. "You don't understand! He's barely alive! He's barely alive!"
He cried.
"I can feel his spark failing! I can feel him slipping from me!"
His intakes laboured.
"I have to save him! Please! I can't just leave him here to die!"
Broken sobs over the spluttering of cooling fans. Sunrift shook his helm, and the frantic motions dispelled his tears, dropping from his chin. They hit the plating of my arms, and they seared hotter than acid raindrops, patters that slid down along the curve of my limbs. I could barely breathe, optics wide as I stared at the black and violet wing, one that was beginning to deplete in its colours.
Sunrift was losing touch with reality. He was overtaken by grief, driven to madness by the prospect of being severed from his mate. He was about to have his bond ripped out of his spark, and that thought alone was enough to turn any mech crazed with agony. Surviving a breaking bond was near impossible. If Blazewing were to deactivate, so would Sunrift. Sunstorm was about to lose his creators. That was inevitable – that much I knew, but still, I had bit down hard on my jaw-joints to stop the coolant from rising, swallowing the deep throb inside my chassis.
No sparkling should ever have to lose his creators.
Gritting my dentae, I offlined my optics, and tore my arms from Sunrift's frame. There was no point in dragging him away if Blazewing was on the verge of deactivation. Sunstorm needed to be saved. That was the only thing I could ensure. He would suffer when his connection to his creators crumbles to nothing, but he would live. I turned to reach for the sparkling. However, all joints in my frame froze when I realized just how quiet it had all of a sudden become.
Sunstorm had stopped crying. He was completely silent, staring behind me with wide, but curious optics. I felt a chill prickle over the neural network of my wings, and my intakes hitched to a full stop. There was an even, steady cycling of air coming from behind me. Not even my spark dared to shiver as my processors analyzed the sound.
The rumbling of cooling fans was too heavy to belong to a flier. The amount of time the air took to cycle was too long for even a Space Shuttle. The sheer size suggested by such clues overwhelmed my logic circuits with disbelief. For the love of Primus…I felt my spark freeze with dread. Just how large was this ground pounder?
Sunstorm made a small whimper, and scooted closer toward me. Sunrift had yet noticed this new turn of events, continuing his efforts to dig out Blazewing. I clenched my hands into fists, and fought to keep the fear radiating from my spark in check.
How could I have missed such a large mech creeping up on me?
My fuel pump began to race, and I took in a deep cycle of air.
No matter.
My wing joints tightened.
I had to take him down.
A small whine was the only indication that my weapons system activated. My null rays onlined with barely a sound, and a charge began to build. Being this close, even a ground pounder could be a formidable opponent in speed. I knew I only had one chance to deactivate him, or, at the very least, deter him long enough to grab Sunstorm and make a fast retreat to the sky. Null rays reporting as ready, I ran an analysis through my flight sensors, and prepared to spring into action.
For several kliks, there was no movement amongst us aside from Sunrift's grappling at the large debris. My wing joints stiffened further, until my wings hiked up perpendicular to my back. I offlined my optics, and listened for any indication of motion from the ground pounder. I only had one shot. I must get him before he could ground me, or worse, capture Sunstorm.
The scraping shift of a heavy ped.
I leapt into action, swirling around on my thrusters and swinging up my arms, null rays whirring with a blast. I turned, faceplate in a vicious scowl, and fired, twin blasts searing through the air. My aim was high to compensate for the height of the grounder, aiming for the helm. However, even with my overestimation, my shots only hit stomach plating.
My intakes stuttered.
My optics widened.
My lips fell open as I slowly lifted my helm, and finally took a full look at the behemoth of a Cybertronian standing over me and my Seekers.
He was…big.
Unicron slag me, was he big.
I thought Megatron was big. I thought Sentinel Prime had been big. But this mech…he was a borderline joke! He was so massive that I couldn't even process any other visual information about him other than his sheer bulk, which loomed over me like a mountain. He did not let out anything other than a low grunt when he'd gained two scorch marks. The dark spots did not stand out at all, camouflaged by the many battle scars and wounds over his plating.
What the frag…? I gaped. My null ray blasts should have gone straight through his plating, yet they only left blackened indents, where energon started to ooze through.
My wings began to shake.
My fists lost their strength, and my arms began to droop.
Why was I repeatedly surprised by these ground pounders? Should I even assume I knew anything about them at all anymore?
Blue optics peered down at me, so bright they were almost white. The Autobot glared, pinning me still by the dismay flaring inside my spark. I needed to be in the air. That was the only chance I had at getting Sunstorm out of here. If taking this mech out required heavier weapons than my null rays, I was nothing short of thoroughly fragged if I were to become grounded.
With a hurried shake of helm, I jolted out of my stunned stupor. My intakes system reactivated with a loud gasp, and I instantly fixed my aim, pointing my compact cannons at his faceplate. I was half a klik from taking my shot when he pushed off his peds, a guttural roar splintering the silence. He charged toward me, the brunt force of his offensive shaking the ground beneath my thrusters.
A yelp sprung past my lips.
I panicked.
My arms jerked in fright, and my aim skewed, shots flying over his helm as he ducked.
"Frag—!" I swore, voice pitched to a high screech. It was drowned out, overcome by the deafening battle-cry wrung out from a worn, sparking vocalizer. A huge fist came barreling toward me. I did not have the time to dodge. It slammed against my helm, and there was a sickening crunch, followed by a piercing squeal from my audial unit.
The punch rattled my processors. I could not register pain. The left side of my helm dented inward, my audial completely crushed. I fell to the side, peds swept clean off the ground. I was vaguely aware of Sunrift shouting and Sunstorm screaming, but I was too disoriented to even consider a landing. I bounced on my back, and dropped to the ground. My frame slid across the rough, muddy surface, and my cockpit screeched against the friction until I finally came to a stop.
I coughed, the noise static-filled as my intakes tried to clear the dust that had entered my system. With trembling arms, I pushed myself up, movements sluggish while my processors reeled in spastic confusion. I shook my helm, and the first stab of pain drilled through my sensor net. Slag, it hurt. I almost dropped back to the ground. A small cry left my lips, and that was when I noticed the energon in my mouth. It felt slimy and disgusting. I groaned, and spat it out as soon as I managed to heave myself up onto my elbows, helm drooped.
My left audial had completely frizzed, giving me buzzing feedback that only added injury to the dent. Pushing the annoyance off for later, I tried to tug up my knees in attempts to get on all fours. A loud cry of alarm rang into my right audial. It took me a while to figure out what that meant. I looked to the side, only to see a ped hurtling into my faceplate.
The kick hit right against my jaw, the force shattering its structural support. I was flung off the ground, tumbling through the air and smacking down on my wings. Energon pooled in my mouth. I let out a gurgle, and could only turn to the side, faceplate in a grimace as the tangy, sticky liquid drooled out of my lips.
Warnings flashed on my HUD. There was damage to my equilibrium chip. A soft moan left my vocalizer. I could barely think through the thick haze of pain that shrouded over my central processing unit.
A large hand, with fat fingers, wrapped around my neck cables. It pulled me up, and squeezed around my fuel lines when I began to struggle. Despite the increasing pressure, I clawed at the hand, short bursts of noise laced in static leaving my vocalizer. My wings jerked, and I kicked my peds, making frantic attempts at freeing myself as I dangled helplessly in the air.
"…Do y-…you…not kn-know wh—…who I—I am...?!" I managed to croak out, optics narrowed and glaring at the ground pounder.
He did not answer.
My vision blurred. I could not read his expression.
"I—am…the C—rown Pr-Prince o—of Vos—!" I hissed, trying in vain to get him to release me. A common soldier was not allowed to bring harm to my person, such was the law. Based on military protocol, any Autobot that subdued and captured me must bring me, the ruler of my city-state, to the Senate to be put on trial.
The mech only squeezed tighter, and I offlined my optics, gritting my dentae in a pained keen.
"St—Sto—p—!" I attempted to shout, but my voice only came out as a whisper. The pressure against my neck cables rose to a potent ache, one so strong that my vocal components were starting to short. I clutched at the large hand, pulling at the fingers, and made sharp, cough-like protests. They roused a strange reaction from the mech: an odd stutter that I could not identify for several kliks.
The sound rippled inside the Autobot's massive chassis like rolling thunder. Only when he opened his mouth and threw back his helm did I realize that he was laughing, at me. Indignation seared my spark the same moment my optics reignited with a flash. I sneered regardless of how much the gesture hurt, and glared into the blue orbs in front of me.
"I'm not interested in taking prisoners, little princeling." An ugly voice left the pair of thin lip components, "The Senate gave very simple orders: Vos must be eradicated, along with all its inhabitants." He barked out a scoffing laugh. "I don't think they'll be very interested in hearing what you have to say."
My optics widened. My sneer dropped. Complete destruction of my city? Genocide?
My fingers dug into the relentless grip around my neck.
"N-Not…p—possi-ble…!" I hissed out. The Senators could not have been this mad.
"Those were the orders." The mech spoke airily, the toss-back of a shrug so casual that it made the situation all the more perverse. He grinned, and lifted his other hand, taking his sweet time to curl every single one of his grit-covered digits into his palm. My optics stretched wider, wings starting to shake as the large, hard fist clenched and pulled back to strike. "You have such a pretty faceplate, little princeling." He chuckled. "I'm gonna enjoy crushing it in my hands."
I was halfway into a horrified scream when a furious cry erupted from behind the grounder. Before either of us could so much as react, a frame crashed into the Autobot, the impact so sudden that the large mech stumbled forward. Arms latched onto the ground pounder's shoulders, and a snarling Seeker came into view. Sunrift grabbed at my aggressor's faceplate, and I could only watch with morbid fascination as he ripped out one of the glinting, blue optics.
Energon spurted, hot droplets splattering atop my parted lips. The grounder roared in pain, and instantly threw me down to grapple at Sunrift. I dropped to the ground, coughing and rubbing my bruised neck cables all the while gaping up at my Seeker. Sunrift proved to be quite a challenge for the Autobot. He slipped away from the large hands, and scratched at the ground pounder's pre-existing wounds, tearing at the derma to reveal glistening beads of energon.
"Sire!" Sunrift shouted, optics narrowed to slits as he sunk his fingers into an injury on the grounder's shoulder, "Get to safety! Save yourself. Save Sunstorm!"
"Wh-What about—…you?" I croaked out, resetting my vocalizer.
"I'm already a dead Seeker, your Highness." Sunrift's wet faceplate gleamed under the flames around us. "Blazewing's spark is kliks from extinguishing. So please—" He cried out as he was yanked off the ground pounder's back, "-S-Save yourself!" He fell, and his wings, his broken wings, scraped against the hard, unforgiving ground.
For a moment, he turned toward me. Our optics met, mine wide and stunned, his wet and bright. The filth on his faceplate disappeared, like the parting of rainclouds. The burns and grime cleared, and they were replaced by a glow that reminded me of my city's towers. Sunrift smiled, the gesture shimmering with warmth. Time slowed. The sound of battle faded. All I knew was that smile. It was dazzling. It was beautiful.
…Then it was gone, his helm crushed under a hard stomp by the heavy ped of the Autobot.
I could not move, spark seizing to a stop and fuel lines freezing cold. My processors stalled, and when my limbs finally shifted, it was on their own accord out of necessity alone. I lifted my null rays, and fired at the large mech as I scrambled up onto my thrusters. I shot at him, not sparing a single moment to stop the blasts while I ran for Sunstorm. The sparkling was staring at the helmless body of his carrier creator, coolant silently falling from his widened optics. He wore no expression, and his gaze was distant, a hollow dim that stretched deep. I paused only to scoop him up into my arms, and hugged him close to my cockpit. He felt so small, so fragile, and my spark clenched.
Shaking the feeling away, I readied for take off. This was not the time to mourn the loss of a life, no matter how affecting. I could not let Sunrift's sacrifice be in vain. I must save his sparkling. With a loud sputter, my thrusters activated. My peds left the ground. Wings spread out firmly by my sides, I soared into the air, reaching for the sky to safety.
The loud crackle of a weapon discharge whipped through the murmuring of the flames. It rang into my right audial, and a split klik later, pain exploded in my wings. It seared through my sensors, like thin blades of liquid fire. I screamed, and fell, the burn so overwhelming that my thrusters immediately gave. Urged by instinct, I rolled in the air, wrapping Sunstorm closer against my cockpit with my arms. His tiny fingers clung at the seams in my canopy as I smashed into the debris-littered ground, and my shriek drowned out his cries, the force jolting my already pained wings.
By sheer power of will alone, I pushed back the coolant threatening to blur my vision, and looked up. To my utter horror, there were several more ground pounders around me, and one of them held a cannon, its barrel emitting a trickle of lazy smoke. The mech that held it wore a large, pleased smirk. He whistled as he watched me, childlike glee wrinkling the energon-caked skin of his face.
I had never seen a cannon like that before. It must have been the newly developed anti-flight weaponry Stormstrike was telling me about. Offlining my optics, I hissed out curses. With a gritted cry, I heaved my frame up until I stood on my peds, and shakily raised one of my arms.
Rebooting my vision, I scanned my surroundings. There were close to a dozen ground pounders in my proximate, half of which regarded me with predatory looks that promised fatal harm. Where in the pits were my Seekers? Why didn't anyone contact me about the Autobots making their way so far into my city?! I did not hear anything from any of my generals that—
Cold realization sank its claws into my spark.
I had…left the comm.-line.
I'd cut myself off from my generals and my trine.
I have been ignoring all pings trying to reach me since the argument with Thundercracker, and have isolated myself so I could concentrate on finding Nightfire, consequently blocking myself off from all attempts by my subordinates to reach me and update me on the battle.
I could not stop a helpless whine from leaving my lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I have been so utterly stupid?! Starscream, you fool! What in the pits were you thinking, overlooking something as vital as communication during battle?!
Whatever it was that had embedded itself into my wings gave another loud crackle, and pain drilled into my core. With a shrill cry, I fell to one knee, frame trembling as I fought to gather myself. My flight sensors were in agony, firing waves after waves of stabbing pain like shots to the spark. My vents huffed. My cooling fans stuttered. I was overheating, fuel pump thumping a frenzy while my processors reeled from the overstimulation in my wings. I could hardly focus enough to charge my null rays. This was not good, not good at all. I could no longer fly, but I had to get Sunstorm out of here.
Looking down at the small, shivering sparkling, hopelessness squeezed my spark until I could barely breathe. Should I appeal for sympathy from the Autobots to let Sunstorm go? I knew I was pretty enough to affect at least a few sparks. If I put on an enticing enough display, they might let Sunstorm go, and as soon as the Seekerlet was out of danger, I could slag them to my spark's content. Just the mere thought of putting myself up for viewing pleasure made my tank churn with disgust, but if doing so would give Sunstorm a chance to get away, I would do it. My lips fell open. Pleas were at the tip of my glossa. However, a thought, slashing through the haze of pain, halted my efforts altogether.
The Autobots were here to kill, not to conquer. Genocide did not leave out sparklings and younglings. Sunstorm would not be spared. I clutched the tiny sparkling closer against my chassis when he whimpered in fear. As much as I hated the thought of leaving him alone, there was only one option left.
"Sunstorm," I whispered, ignoring the tickling sensation of his coolant tears sliding down my canopy glass, "Sunstorm, you have to listen to me."
Sunstorm squirmed closer, and I knew I had his attention.
"Sunstorm, you must fly away." I pointed my null ray at one of the grounders that walked a little too close. "You must fly to the top towers, and find another flier, do you understand?"
Sunstorm made a small squeak, and lifted his helm, staring at me with confused, frightened optics.
"Sunstorm, we have no time. Do you understand what you must do?" I swore when another grounder took a step too close. "I can no longer take you. You must go alone."
Sunstorm, as I expected, made a fearful, aghast cry, and clung tighter unto my cockpit. He shook his helm, the desperate movement dispelling more tears, and his tiny wing-nubs quivered in obvious terror at the prospect of leaving the comfort of my arms.
"No, Sunstorm!" I clenched my dentae. "I can no longer take you to safety. You must leave at once while there's still a chance!" Fingers firm around his torso, I pried him away from my chassis. A sharp squeal of alarm sounded, and the small sparkling immediately started to bawl, fat tears rolling down his small faceplate as he struggled and reached toward me with tiny fingers. A jab of hurt stabbed my spark, and my resolve almost crumbled. However, another step from an approaching Autobot steeled it beyond breakable.
"You are a Seeker, Sunstorm." I tried to keep optic contact with the sparkling, only glancing at the ground pounders to keep sight of them at all time. "You are sparked to fly." I tried to reassure him with an encouraging smile even though it wavered, and spoke with a soft voice, "You will be fine."
Sunstorm looked back at me, optics frightful and large. However, he must have understood, lips quivering but thrusters activating. His little wings flicked as he started to float upward, slowly peeling away from my fingers. He hovered higher, yet he still appeared reluctant to leave, brow-ridges creasing in an expression I had no time to read.
I parted my lips to hurry him, but there was no time for even a single word as a thick arm suddenly shot out from behind me. A massive hand, blackened from blood and battle, unfurled its claw, and I watched with absolute horror as it reached for Sunstorm, fingers spreading to catch the tiny sparkling.
Without another thought, I grabbed the Seekerlet and flung him up in the air. With a loud cry, I lunged back, and my wings hit the chassis of a ground pounder. Pain blossomed anew like the combustion of flames, but I kept pushing, keeping the grounder back with a sneer and gritted dentae. Sunstorm tumbled several wingspans up into the air, but he was still hesitating, opting to float instead of flying away at full speed.
"What in the pits are you waiting for?!" I screamed in frustration. "Fly away, you idiot! Fly away!" A series of loud crackling sounded, followed by a rising whirr. I snapped my helm to the side, and my intakes seized at the sight of the Autobot aiming his strange contraption at Sunstorm, the barrel strumming in a charge
Without another thought, I whipped my optics back to the sparkling, and raised my null rays.
I shot. The blasts flew past the hovering Seekerlet. Sunstorm squeaked in fear, and his little mouth parted in shock as he stared down at me, optics widened in a teary gape.
"Go!" I continued to fire, missing him by a mere wingtip. "Get out of here!" I shouted, sending blast after blast after him. "Go, Primus-damn-it!" One of my shots surged right past his helm, and he squealed in fright, swirling around and hurtling straight for the sky. The Autobot's weapon continued to crackle, too slow in forming a blast, and I instantly changed my aim, pointing right at the arm.
I fired, catching him right at the elbow joint. He hollered in pain, but I was not allowed even a klik to celebrate success when the grounder behind me grabbed my compact cannons, and ripped them clean off my shoulders.
The sting was a mere throb compared to the agony from my wings, but regardless, I let out a yelp. Without my null rays, I was even more vulnerable. I tried to scramble away, but the grounder behind me grabbed me by a ped, and pulled. I flopped down onto my chassis, the fall inciting a pinched whine from my vocalizer. Every action jolted sparks of pain. Without Sunstorm to distract me, the burning of my injuries was returning with a vengeance.
"You little glitch!" A voice cut through the noise of distant battles. Rapid, heavy ped-falls, and the grounder on top of me was suddenly shoved off. A knee slammed on my back, pinning me down, and rough digits ripped through the protective cloak shielding my frame. Fingers bit into my wing, and loud wail left my vocalizer, wrung from my parted lips.
"You shot my fragging arm!" A bellow vibrated through my audials, accompanied by the heated huffs of labouring vents. The weight bore down, until my canopy glass squeaked in protest. The fingers dug deeper into the sensitive metal of my wing, and the pain intensified into a searing most unbearable. I cried out louder, the sound high and thin over the stuttering of my cooling fans.
"S-Stop—!" I managed to form through the rattling my frame. "Stop it!" I bucked against the Autobot straddling me, trying to throw him off, but to no avail. With a growl, he tightened his grip. There was nothing else I could do but gasp, optics unseeing and stretched, as he crushed the tip of my wing.
Agony shot through my core. I screamed, back arching as I clawed at the ground. However, my aggressor did not stop there. He held my wing by its crumbled tip, and started to pull.
I thrashed, pushing against his knee with my hands. My thrusters spluttered. My intakes hitched in bursts. My frame grew hot, and I offlined my optics, letting out a strained cry. I kicked. The ground pounder's balance wavered. He swore, and hammered down a hand against my back. His fingers, clamped around my appendage, were relentless. He wrenched on my wing, and, with a squeal of stretching derma and tautening cables, I felt my wing joint beginning to give.
Fear.
It speared through the agony, hot ice scorching the core of my spark. Even the pain was nothing compared to the sheer terror I felt at the thought of having my wing torn from my back. With a shrill wail of panic, I clamored at the Autobot. I struggled with renewed vigor, lips falling apart as pleas erupted from my vocalizer unhindered.
"Please! No!" The desperation in my voice fueled the frantic thumping of my fuel pump. "Please don't! Don't take my wing! Don't take my wings!" I pleaded, voice rising to a screech. It became louder still when the Autobot refused to heed my words, and yanked harder on my wing.
"No! No—!" Choked, dry sobs broke through. "Please! I beg you!" My vocalizer pinched. "Have mercy! Have mercy—!" I strained my spinal-strut, helm thrown back as I tried to compensate for the pressure at my joint. Cables splintered. Sensors burst in flaring signals. My wing started to tear, and I shrieked, each rupture a drill twisting its way into my spark chamber.
"Mercy? Mercy?!" The mech roared down. "Did you show mercy to my comrades when you shot them down in cold blood?! Did you show mercy when you made a slagging game out of murdering the civilians of Kaon?!" He was close, his ex-vents a wave of heat that swarmed my intakes. "I have no mercy for a little glitch like you!" He screamed. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
The pressure snapped.
A loud, screeching rip of shredding metal pierced through the air.
Hot energon spurted, burning splatters that coated my back and flowed to the ground. It slid down along the sides of my torso, heated, wet trials that dripped pain onto the foundation of my city.
I could not move.
I could not think.
All I knew was the white, hot blade of excruciating agony scalding my core and rendering my world to chaos.
I screamed.
Coolant washed down my cheek plates, and I screamed.
My vocalizer was kliks from shorting out completely, but I screamed regardless, the boiling sensations pounding into my neural sensors too great for any other utterances.
My tattered cloak was tugged from my frame, and acid raindrops hit my fresh wound like icicles of pain falling from the sky. They sizzled when they came in contact with my exposed circuitry, and I cried, bawling and shrieking incoherent pleas for the torture to stop.
Primus, I could not even see through the coolant spilling from my optics. I could not hear, the sensors in my wing joints overtaking my entire neural grid. I could no longer feel the air from my wingless side, and it terrified me. My processors were a panicking mess, all logic control evaporated as my spark raced with a spastic burn so frantic that I could not even distinguish where the ground ended and the sky began.
Everything hurt.
My whole frame was in agony.
Acid seared my paintjob, and it corroded my finish.
I had not so intimately felt their biting touch since many vorns ago, when the night cycle of my creators' assassination saw the degradation of my most sacred being.
Energon continued to flow, drenching raw sensory nodes with liquid heat. My frame was overwhelmed by violent spasms, and I screamed, cried, wailed, sobbed, and no one cared in the slightest. Coolant trickled into my mouth. I could do nothing to stop them. The taste was bitter, and it left a lingering tang on my glossa.
The crushing weight on my back suddenly disappeared, and a hand grabbed me by the back of my neck. I was hauled off the ground, the action jolting my helm forward. The coolant pooling in my mouth flowed through my lips. It dribbled down my chin, and I whimpered, too weak and shaken to raise a hand to wipe it away.
Heavy pedfalls reached my right audial, but I could not quite register what they meant. The massive Autobot that got his optic torn out by Sunrift stood in front of me, but I could only tremble. I stared at him, strangled sobs choking past my quivering lips. They became muffled when he jerked up my chin, and invaded my mouth with a wet, slippery kiss.
His glossa was thick and sticky. It felt too big for my mouth, too fat and swollen. I whined, and tried to turn my helm away, but he held my chin insistently between his fingers. More coolant leaked in past my lips, mingling with the energon from his optic wound. The mixed fluids gathered and slid out through the corners of my mouth, and it felt slimy, disgusting. The taste was foul. His mouth was too hot. Everything was too hot, and the pain was a constant, unbearable burn, made worse by the acid rain licking the naked, severed sensory nodes of my right wing joint.
A large hand, his other, gripped my thigh, and flung it aside. He grabbed at my valve panel, fingertips digging into the seams, and I shrieked into the kiss, protests swallowed by his mouth. I began to struggle, kicking and hitting wherever I could on the hard, thick frame. However, anything I could have done was merely a mild distraction, rousing only an annoyed grunt from the mech, who was not deterred in the slightest. The grounder behind me scoffed at my behaviour, and caught my wrists with one hand. Unable to retaliate against the violation of my body, despair struck me deep in the spark, and a renewed rise of coolant welled over from my optics.
My captor's fingers picked at my valve panel. He growled when I continued to refuse him access, and became aggressive. The pressure against the seams increased. I squealed, and squeezed my thighs together when I felt the thin plating beginning to give.
Oh Primus…Please no!
I let out a screeched protest. He greedily ate it up as he continued to plunder my mouth. My jaw joints hurt from how wide he had forced open my lips, though the ache was only a minute throb compared to the injury at my wing joint. A shaky whine left my vocalizer, the noise pitiful. There was no hope of me getting out of this situation, not when there was no possibility of my fliers spotting me with the grounders shielding me from view. The battle was still viciously ongoing. Even my trine mates were busy avoiding getting slagged.
No one was coming to save me.
Making a last attempt at begging my way out, I whimpered, and began to shyly kiss back. The large ground pounder growled deep in his gut, pleased with my reciprocation, and he leaned back slightly to chuckle, lapping at the mixture of coolant and energon that had spilled from my lips. Catching the opportunity, I onlined my optics. I took a deep intake, the breath shuddering, and instantly began to plead.
"D-Don't…!" I put on the most pitiable expression I could manage, paired with a small squeal of a whine. "P—Please don't—!" My entire faceplate was wet with coolant, and I looked up at him, gaze imploring. "A-Anything—Anything…!" My voice shook, breaking mid-sentence. I squeezed my thighs tighter together, clenching around his hand, but he only stared at me, studying my expression.
Then he grinned, the split wide and ugly. "Keep begging." He chuckled, and once again latched his lips onto mine.
I screamed into his mouth, thrashing anew as another surge of fear shot through my spark. I had never known one single mech who could dispel my pleas with such ease. Just who were these ground pounders? They could not possibly be the Autobots. Idiots and cowards the Senators might be, weaklings who were protected by equally incompetent subordinates. But these mechs…They were too vile, too perverse. Autobots could be cruel, could kill in cold energon, but these mechs, they were going to—
The plating of my valve cover buckled, and I cried out. With a smirk, the large mech pinched the edges of the thin panel, and began to tug. I started to kick, trying in vain to keep him from touching my valve. However, the only protection I had left was beginning to tear, just like my cloak and my wing.
I panicked, and did the last thing I could.
With a burst of scalding air, I activated my thrusters to full blast. The two grounders keeping me captive instantly balked, shouting in alarm and pain as the heat melted their plating. They tried to restrain me, to which I responded with another boost to my thrusters. Their hold loosened, and I thrashed, uncaring about the energon gushing out of the gaping wound on my back. Pain was everywhere. I could not escape it. However, I refused to sit idle while there was a chance to escape being touched by these greasy, repulsive slag heaps of mechs.
They finally let go, and I surged up in the air. It was folly, trying to fly with only one wing and a damaged equilibrium chip, so it was no surprise when I flipped once in the air and promptly dropped back down to the ground. I landed on my injured wing joint, and my shriek was so loud that my only available audial almost frizzed. Vents spluttering in sobs and dentae gritted, I forced myself onto all fours, and hurried to crawl away, stumbling from trembling limbs and slipping in puddles of acid rainwater.
I saw my severed wing laying a few wingspans away, and quickly made my way toward it. If I could retrieve it, reattaching it would not be a problem at all. I struggled to reach my wing, as it was on a small hill of rubble. I was almost there when I heard the heavy stomps of pedfalls, followed by harsh, spat out curses from the massive ground pounder. Coolant immediately gathered in my optics, and I crawled faster, frightened huffs leaving my skidding vents. I grasped for the jagged edges of a large piece of debris, but my ped slipped, and I fell back down further. I tried one more time, reaching to climb. My fingers had just grazed the edge of the rubble when another onslaught of pain wrecked over my neural network.
The ground pounder crushed one of my peds under his own. A high-pitched screech left my vocalizer, and I hastily pulled on my broken limb to hold it against my chassis. However, my aggressor did not let go. He only leaned on more of his weight, intentions malicious.
The pressure shattered my thruster system. Energon squirted into the already spreading puddle. I screamed, and scratched at his ped. I pushed his leg and pulled on my own in attempts dislodge my thruster, but I could not. Wailing and shrieking, I punched at him. I could only cry, lying in a big pool of rain water that had begun to turn glowing purple by the blood of my pain.
I curled up on the ground, remaining wing rippling the surface of the water. I hugged my knees, and bawled harder when the puddle grew deeper, the searing burn of acid rotting the injury on my back. Primus, was this it? Was this how I was going to deactivate? Rain continued to pelt from the sky. I gasped, and my intakes choked on the liquid.
So undignified.
So pathetic…
The ground pounder leaned down, and shoved my shoulder, pressing me on my back. My wing joint scraped against the rough ground, and I hitched in a sharp breath, frame stiffening from the new wave of agony.
"My amusement toward you had just run out, little princeling." My tormentor spoke down, regarding me with cool, uninterested optics. "Time to snuff out your little spark so I can move on to blow up the rest of your city." He said, and did not wear even the slightest delight at the prospect of killing a city-state's Crown Prince. He simply aimed one of his rifles at my canopy, finger poised at the trigger. I could only watch through coolant-filled optics as a charge began to build, illuminating my frame with blinding light.
The blast formed, gaining in size. I was so terrified that even the excruciation of numerous injuries could not distract me from the barrel of the rifle, one that had stunned me with fear.
I did not want to be deactivated.
Primus, I did not want to die.
I could not die.
I still had my city.
Who would look after Vos if I were gone?
I had no intended bondmate.
I had no heir.
This could not be how my spark would extinguish.
This could not be how I die.
My lips quivered. My frame shook.
Not like this…
A hysterical keen left my vocalizer.
Oh please Primus, not like this…!
My fingers dug into the ground.
The blast reached maximum capacity.
…No…
The grounder pulled on the trigger, and my intakes wheezed a hopeless sob.
No…!
The thick finger tugged—
-No-
—A whirr left the rifle.
-Oh-Primus-please—
-The brightening burst of discharge-
-No—!
I offlined my optics, and a thundering blast soared above.
For a long moment, I could not understand why I felt no pain in my spark.
Perhaps I had died from fear alone.
Shame tasted bitterer than coolant did in my mouth. What a coward I was, deactivating before the mech could even shoot me.
Suddenly, warm splatters of energon hit my faceplate, and the weight on top of my ped was gone.
I was confused.
How could I have felt pressure on my thruster if I had died?
Screams broke out around me, joined by cannon fire and laser blasts. The ground shook as a deafening roar split open the thick curtain of rain, and my optics instantly onlined.
I recognized that roar.
My remaining wing trembled.
I knew that roar.
Slowly, I dared to turn my helm in its direction. I turned, and I saw a mech I would not have ever imagined to see in a million vorns charging forward, fusion cannon blazing as he shot down all Autobots in my proximity.
Piercing red optics. A fearsome scowl. Dentae gritted, and scratched, dull plating harboring too many scars to count.
…And those Primus-awful streaks of peeling, chipping red paint on cheek plates.
Megatron.
I rebooted my optics in disbelief.
Megatron…!
He shot down the Autobots around me, charge announced by a loud, enraged cry. He crushed helms with his bare hands, fingers digging into optics and gutting out sparking processor parts. Energon sprayed as he plunged his fists into chassises, yanking out sparks still bright and strumming with life. He snuffed them all, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl as he squeezed them, and his optics flared, smelting pools erupting in fury as they sought violent demise for each and every one of his enemies.
He knocked down ground pounders larger than he was with hard, merciless blows. He tore limbs straight from their sockets. He ripped mechs apart like they were nothing but vapour, all the while blasting his fusion cannon with a crazed wrath I had never before seen so thoroughly overtake him.
Before long, his frame became drenched in glowing energon. He looked like he had just emerged out of a night-long group fight back in the pits, victorious, wearing the blood of our kind like a cloak worthy of a king. One by one, the Autobots fell. When he finally stopped to scan his surroundings, everything was silent, except for the cracking of the flames – the only sound within range of my damaged auditory receptors.
Spotting no immediate danger, he walked to my null rays, and picked them up before subspacing them.
He barely seemed to notice the acid rain washing over his frame. Steam rose from his heated derma as the water glided over it, finding crooks and protruding scars. He remained silent, deeming the area safe before turning toward me. With swift, large strides, he approached my prone form, but when he finally came close enough to see me, all of me, he tensed, and his peds hit an abrupt stop.
I wondered what he saw then, as he looked over my frame. I had no way of knowing, having lost too much energon for optimal function. I could not analyze the fast array of emotions fleeting across his faceplate, not when my processors felt so hazy, dragging at odd intervals. All I knew was that his optics widened, and that his jaws grew tight, as he studied the mangled panel of my valve cover.
His brow ridges knitted slightly. His lips pressed together. He appeared almost horrified, as though he had never seen a mech as mutilated as I was before. What a ridiculous thought. I wanted to laugh. He fought and survived in Kaon. Surely he had seen far more violated mechs.
Silence clicked by, and still, no word. Lips kept in a firm line, he slowly walked forward, steps measured and optics glowing. Faceplate an unreadable storm, he stopped beside me, and carefully knelt down, as though he did not want to accidentally startle. He retained his silence as he reached for my faceplate, and he wrapped his hand around the uninjured side of my helm, thumb ghosting across my cheek.
To my surprise, his hand…it shook.
The tremor was very slight, yet, somehow, I knew, that it made all the difference in the universe.
"…Starscream, you fool," His voice was low, and it carried such a dark, heavy note as he spoke. Looking down at me, his optics flashed, and his gaze was penetrating, brimmed by emotions I could not read.
I only stared back, unable to respond. I could not think past the lingering shock that Megatron was here, right beside me.
"You have always been the one to emphasize that we are allies," He bit out, jaws clenched, "so why?" He asked, expression falling to a grimace, "Why did not you contact me?"
His hand shook, but I remained speechless.
This was a Vosian matter. It had nothing to do with him.
That was what I'd wanted to explain, what I'd wanted to say. However, all that left my lips as I opened them was a small, pained whimper.
He looked at me a while longer before glancing away, hissing out a sigh through his vents. He remained still for a moment, and a hard, tense demeanor seemed to settle over his frame, heavy like a cloak. He appeared to be contemplating over something, optics pointed to the side. When he turned back, he wore a frown, and simply wiped away the coolant staining my faceplate.
He leaned down, and gathered me into his arms. Once again surprising me with the gentleness he could conjure from his rough, large bulk, he lifted me off the ground, and made sure to be mindful of the gaping wound still weeping energon at my wing joint. I must be hallucinating, I thought. All of this must be an energon-loss induced hallucination. It was probably Ramjet, or one of my trine mates, holding me close to their warm chassis and shielding me from further harm.
It could not have been Megatron. After all, Megatron saw me as mere passing entertainment, a vessel to be used in achieving his goal. In his optics, my only value was my status as the ruler of my state, my attraction toward him only worth his passing fancy, a plaything.
…However, the plating I was pressed against was too hard and dense to have belonged to a flier…The spark burning inside the broad chassis too heated and passionate to have been Ramjet's, Thundercracker's, or Skywarp's. There was a purple sigil painted and proudly displayed right over the spark – the Decepticon badge. It made me wonder, briefly, what he had done to the pendant he had worn as a gladiator.
Memory files from my first night cycle in Kaon surfaced, startling in its clarity. Ever since that first incident, so much more has happened between us, between Megatron and I. However, nothing could erase the feeling of his gaze scorching my plating as I flew away, running, escaping, after our fruitless and unsatisfying encounter. What expression had he worn? What had he been looking for?
What emotions swam in his optics as he watched me retreat, leaving him with only recollections of soft, pliable metal and trembling wings?
Tears swelled and fell. I offlined my optics, and wrapped my arms around his wide shoulders. I hid my faceplate against his neck cables. He said nothing about the coolant streaming down my cheeks. He walked a few paces forward, and stopped to bend down. Something probed my side when he straightened. I onlined my optics to see what it was.
It was my severed wing.
I held onto it, keeping it close against my cockpit, and offlined my optics again.
"The battle is far from over." Megatron pressed his lips against the side of my helm, and his voice in a deep rumble of a whisper. "I highly doubt we won't encounter hostility along the way, but the designated meeting spot with Skywarp is not far." With a low strum, the fusion cannon was activated, and its bearer started to walk. "Hold onto me, Starscream." His steps picked up into a run. "You are safe." He promised, and I could only mutely nod, nuzzling my wet faceplate into the crook of his neck cables.
Explosions came from all direction. Towers fell around us. The acid rain had dwindled to a thick drizzle, and waves of heated steam carried suffocating fume up into the sky. The air held a smothering scent of melted metal and evaporating energon. Dust irritated my intakes. However, I had barely any energy left to complain, stasis-lock imminent on my system.
Megatron held me with one arm while his other, with the fusion cannon, blasted down any obstacles in our path. I was vaguely aware of my Seekers flying overtop, covering us as my ground pounder took me to Skywarp. My hands were starting to lose their grip, and I almost tumbled off when Megatron landed after a high jump. He cursed, hurrying to catch me. There was urgency in his voice when he next spoke, shouting to be heard over the battle around us.
"Starscream. Starscream!" He shook me, now holding me with both arms as he ran. "We're almost at the coordinates. Hang on just a little longer!"
I could not even think to nod, but I did as he asked. Some time passed. I had no way of telling how long. I'd lost connection with my internal chronometer, my systems rerouting what little energon I had left to vital components to keep me alive. Through the haze of confusion and disorientation clouding over my processors, I registered another voice, and a hand that did not belong to Megatron touching my shoulder.
"Oh slag! Oh slag!" That voice kept on repeating, a hysterical edge sharp in its inflections. "Star? Star? Can you hear me? Star? …Fragging Autobots!"
"Gather yourself, Skywarp." Megatron said, "Hurry, to the med bay."
The hand on my shoulder tightened, and suddenly, all noise disappeared. I was pulled into a void, the abrupt change twisting my sense of reality and balance. I felt like I was about to purge my tank, but luckily, the morphing ended as quickly as it began. With a heavy "thud", Megatron landed. The place was somewhere new. The air did not smell like deactivation and war. There was a deathly still silence, and then the pit broke loose.
"Ground pounder!" Someone cried out.
"Prince Starscream!" A high voice shouted.
"Let go of Prince Starscream at once!" Another commanded.
"Wait! Wait! —no! He's—" The voice that Megatron had spoken to tried to explain, but it was immediately cut off by sounds of blasters activating.
"What the frag, Skywarp?!" Yet another voice started to yell, incredulous with panic. "You teleported a Primus-damned ground pounder into the Royal Tower?!"
"-No! He's—"
"Stand down, soldier!" A softer timbre tried to intervene, "Stand down!" It said, but it was right away drowned out.
"You are surrounded, Autobot!" A mech announced. "Unhand Prince Starscream at once, or we will deactivate you where you stand!"
"Oh for Primus's sakes—"
Megatron shifted on his peds, and an instant chorus of weapons charging responded.
"Do not move, ground pounder! I repeat, do not move!" Someone bellowed. It left stinging jabs in my damaged, left audial, and I groaned, immediately covering it with a hand.
"Everyone stop!" Soft Timbre returned, aggravation rendering it much louder than before. There was still the steady buzz of activated blasters, but the shouting had stopped. Sighing in relief, I felt my frame ease. The tension disappeared, and I leaned against my ground pounder, helm tilted and drooped.
"No one is deactivating anyone in my med bay, is that understood!?" Soft Timbre hissed, voice biting and hard-edged. "If you idiots are too thick in the processors to see the priority of the situation, then leave, or I swear by our Holy Creator I'm going to kick you out myself! Now you! Prince Starscream. Berth. Now!"
Megatron moved. A few wide strides later, he stopped, and lowered me to a berth. Incoherent words of protest left my lips. I did not want to part with that warm chassis, that safety. However, regardless of my attempts to stay latched onto him, he put me down, and another mech came into view.
"Prince Starscream, can you hear me? Prince Starscream?" He asked, leaning down close with a frown on his faceplate. I recognized him as Soft Timbre.
I could hear him, but I could not quite reply.
Shuffling. Then my medical ports were manually opened.
"He's lost a lot of energon," Soft Timbre, who looked very familiar, sighed through his vents, and his brow ridge furrowed in concentration. "Prepare for energon transfusion."
"Affirmative." Someone from the side replied.
"Is this his wing?" Soft Timbre, who was apparently a medic—
A medic. Royal Tower. My tower. My medic—Pristinus…asked, and carefully took my severed wing from my fingers.
"Yes, it is," Megatron answered, optics darting from Pristinus to me. "Will you be able to reattach it?" He frowned.
"Of course! Who do you take me for?" Pristinus snapped, and gave Megatron a shove that did not quite move him. "Wait elsewhere. You're in the way."
"I need to speak with him." Megatron looked annoyed at being pushed around by a Stealth Jet.
"Does he look like he can talk to you right now?" Pristinus tossed Megatron a glare with pursed lips. "I'm trying to save his life!"
"And you will have to save many more if I do not speak with him right now, medic!" Megatron scowled, red optics giving a piercing flash. Without another word, he bent over me, and wrapped his hands around my shoulders despite Pristinus's protests.
"Starscream, we don't have much time, so you must listen to me." I stared at his lips. The way they moved captivated me. They looked so rough, so firm, even sporting a scar, but I knew they were, in fact, very soft, and warm. "Your soldiers fight valiantly, but there are too many Autobots for them to take down before your city is destroyed. You need ground support! Vos has already obtained much damage, but it will suffer further, unnecessarily,if you do not do as I say:
"Grant my Decepticons access into your city. We can secure the perimeter, terminate the invasion, and bring down those your fliers miss."
I continued to stare at the lips, but they stopped moving. I assumed that I had to answer.
"…Too l-late…" My vocalizer croaked out. He looked irritated by my response, but he did not strike me. His hands left my shoulders. They wrapped around the sides of my helm. He leaned down further, and his optics pinned me with a determined gaze.
"If you wait, it will be." He said, voice holding such conviction that I was momentarily taken back, unable to process just how anyone could be so sure of something that has yet happened.
However, even stranger still…I believed him.
I nodded, and what was left of my processing power began to formulate a plan.
"Skywarp," I called out, and rapid pedfalls followed. Megatron leaned away, and my purple trine mate came into view, expression uncharacteristically serious and attentive. "Skywarp," I instructed, "teleport however many Space Shuttles you need to Kaon, and return to Vos with the Decepticons at full speed."
"Count on me, Star." He flashed me a reassuring smile, and gave my hand a firm squeeze.
"Go, now." I urged him. "We don't have much time."
"Got it," He said before turning to Megatron. "Ready to go, Commander?"
Megatron nodded once, but his optics lingered on mine. He stared at me for a moment longer, and something I could not quite catch flickered across his faceplate. It was gone within a klik, and he moved away, leaving my sight. There was a distinct "pop", and Pristinus returned into my view, smile warm as he connected numerous cables into my medical ports.
"I'm going to have to manually initiate stasis-lock, your Highness," He explained as he prepared the procedure. "An automatic stasis-lock might accidentally disable some of your vital functions due to your energon level. However, worry not," He gave me an encouraging smile, "The energon transfusion has begun. We cannot give you too much at once in case it shocks your system, but everything is under control. It will be fine."
I was feeling tired, so tired. Recharge hung at the edges of my vision. My optics shuttered, flashing on and off. Pristinus was still speaking to me, words reassuring and tone soft, but I could barely understand him. A stray thought floated across my processors, wondering if the manual stasis-lock was in effect, but I did not have the time to ask.
My vision darkened, and the last words I heard from my head medic was the promise that I would, indeed, be able to fly again.
Notes: Oh god, this chapter, I'm pretty sure I fried at least half of my brain cells editing it. Fourteen pages in one day, I…am done. If anything doesn't flow right, it'll just…have to do for now. I'm not very picky at 2 in the morning.
Sorry about the long wait for this update! School has been busy, exams coupled with end-of-semester performances, which means many late rehearsals. Good news, however, is that classes have finally ended for me. There are still finals, but I don't have to go to school everyday anymore.
Huge thanks and much love to all of my reviewers, who have been so sweet in offering words of encouragement and support. I say this a lot, but I really do appreciate you taking the time to leave me a few words or many. Thank you: Suki-Angel91494, cjade, Starcee138, Skylark Starflower, Random523, DemonFoxGirl1000, Ashcola17, aki. vn, Tolaya, Cloud Kitsune17, lildevchick, loverofmythology, DragonsOnMoon, Koluno1986, 6MissSparklez9, Krazed Jetformer, Delition, MalevolentMask, Devlinn Reiko, Balrog Roike, The-writing-Mew, heretherebemonsters, tiedwithribbons, Sneer, ladyredvelvet, Khysani Myrical, PwnKage, len, keeperofcoldtoes, Skandron, and dellykins for giving me valuable feedback. It means a lot, truly.
So, what do you think? I'm not sure if I managed to surprise you with the return of Sunstorm and his creators, but I hope I did, as I love to surprise. XD Next chapter will be Megatron-Starscream centric, and there'll be a nice little treat for you inside it. Any guesses on what it might be? Some of you will probably think it's about time it happens again, haha!
Reviews would be all kinds of lovely. :)