Insatiable

by Acteon Carolsfeld

[Permanent Hiatus] AU. Vos: independent, isolated, and self-governed by absolute monarchy…until a miner turned gladiator caught the optics of its young Crown Prince. Not all is fair in love and war. Warning: MegaStar; sticky. Based on M:Origin & G1 while taking liberties.

25. XXVI, i

Disclaimer: Anything IDW owns I do not own.

---

XXVI

(i)

Praxus, metro-center of the arts.

I stood on its tallest building, the city hall, and watched the battle ravage across the terrain, my trine mates flanking my wings.

Explosions wreaked havoc in all direction. Screams filled the air, muffled by the thunderous roars of cracking infrastructure and shattering glass. Buildings toppled, crumbling to the ground in deafening cries. Fire raged over the city, rendering the streets a chaotic patchwork of bright light – a sea of flames shrieking in agony.

My fliers danced in the air, engines a sharp screech, glinting pairs of wings forming intricate patterns through columns of smoke. They unleashed a rain of bombs onto the Autobots below. Strikers, Fighter Jets, and Seekers flew together, led by my three generals. I could hear them, barking orders through the Vosian military frequency.

Skywarp fidgeted by my left wing. He was watching the scene, a wide grin below glittering optics, eager and impatient to join the battle. Thundercracker stood on my right, back straight and stance firm. His expression was stoic, frame still like a statue of ice. A smirk stretched over my faceplate. My fuel pump raced, and my spark swelled. My hands curled into fists. My null rays whirred with a rush of charge through my weapons system, barrel shining from the fire beneath us.

I had come to realize, after numerous battles, that while my compact cannons were effective, some grounders were simply too hard-plated to experience the pleasure of deactivation at my hands. After joors cooped up in my personal laboratory, I came up with a solution:

If I could not kill the grounders, I could paralyze them.

It was a wonderful idea, really – creative, new, and absolutely delightful. If an Autobot survived the initial discharge, he would collapse to the ground, helpless and unable to move or call for aid. This would be how the Decepticon ground forces find him, undoubtedly a feast for those ravenous, energon-thirsty lunatics, who seemed to have a collectively penchant for tearing into guts with their bare digits.

The air was hot. It warmed my plating. My wings flicked, and my flight sensors itched, irritated by the tickling brushes of heat.

"How much longer?" Skywarp asked, voice laced with static, almost a growl. "How much longer, Star?"

"Soon," I tilted toward him, voice a soft, lilting purr. "Very soon."

Skywarp nodded. He licked his lips with a slow swipe of his glossa. The gesture was so downright perverse that my smirk grew into a grin, and I laughed, engine stirring vibration through my frame.

He was not the only Seeker craving for blood on this night cycle.

Thundercracker was the only one who did not share our enthusiasm. He has developed an attitude of detachment during battle, following the plan dutifully, but never beyond what was necessary. I knew killing still bothered him. It would likely continue to bother him until the end of the war. His spark was too soft for military missions, but his post as my trine mate left him no choice but to fight by my side.

The Strikers descended once more, shooting straight down from the sky, followed by Fighters. The heavier Jets fired their massive double-charge cannons, and veered upwards, leaving room for the Fighters to deploy their missiles. With a battle-cry from Ramjet, the Seekers made their next move, sleek frames slicing through the air. They darted between the weave-work of anti-flight weaponry with practiced ease, and released their cluster bombs, engulfing the eastern front in an eruption of flames, bubbles of light dotted with debris.

The pride in my spark soared.

Why did Megatron need ground pounders when he had my fliers at his disposal?

"C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon!" Skywarp was trembling with excitement. He bounced on his thrusters, energy field a furnace of anticipation as he waited for a final explosion as our signal. My fingers curled tighter into my palms. I ran a deep cycle of hot air through my vents, equally expectant, watching the site with keen, wide optics.

Suddenly, there it was: a burst of burning debris leaving trails of smoke from a flare of piercing light.

"Now!" I shouted, and leapt from the building. With a smooth dive, I transformed, and shot off to the west with a sharp flip. A ripple in the air, followed by a rumbling sonic boom, announced Thundercracker's arrival at my right wing. Skywarp appeared at my left with a puff of purple smoke. He rolled with a cheer, and sent a blast through his thrusters when he righted his nosecone, catching up with us with a spurt of speed.

We flew toward the Autobots stationed on the western front, high in altitude, shielded by smoke. With the east quadrant weakened, our enemy would rattle in their resolve, providing an opportunity for my trine and I to strike. Our objective was simple: bring down the multi-cannoned, dead weight of a tank sitting in the middle of the Autobot forces. It was a troublesome artillery vehicle, capable of reaching unprecedented distances. It's given both ground pounders and fliers much grief over the past few battles. Bringing it down was difficult, impossible without heavy losses by those on the ground. Surrounded by lines of Autobots at the center of their fortress, the thick-armored monstrosity was practically untouchable, unless, of course, one was the fastest and most agile flier on the planet aided by two trine mates of unique talents.

My only mission was firing one single shot into its control hub, buried deep within its bowels and accessible only by cracks between cannon barrels. I did not need to concern myself with the Autobots below us. My trine mates were here to cover me, to ensure that I reach my optimal shooting angle. If we took down the tank, the Decepticons would move in, and the western front was as good as taken.

:The Royal Trine is in procession. I repeat, the Royal Trine is in procession.: Bladeflight's voice rang across the comm.-line. : Vosian forces on standby. Remain alert for evacuation or rescue. Commander Soundwave, do you receive?:

:Affirmative. Update forwarded – Decepticon Line-One.: Soundwave droned in reply.

My trine neared the western front. The air was clearer here, and the Autobots immediately noticed our approach. Within kliks, a storm of laser fire surged up around us. An anti-flight artillery shell hurled past my wing tip, a mere cable width away. I hissed a curse, and tossed into a roll to avoid the incoming bombardment of cannon shots. My trine mates split from my sides. They dove and rose around me, blasting down hostile fire, even taking hits if they could not divert the shots in time. A missile caught Skywarp in his flight path. He bellowed an explicative, and disappeared behind a column of smoke. I could not see him, even in my peripheral. My radar informed me that he had been stalled, had fallen out of alignment with us.

Thundercracker was overwhelmed. He had to clear my left and right, and the web of lasers and shrapnel shells kept getting thicker. A shot grazed my left wing. I swore, biting down the sharp sting, and evaded the rest with maneuvers that would have killed any other Seeker. I did not have time to ask if Skywarp was alright. I could not afford to wonder how Thundercracker was holding up, covering me in all directions. I only pushed onward, gaining in speed, slicing through the currents to reach my goal.

A flash of light, followed by a quiet "pop". Skywarp returned, just in time to dodge a string of laser fire. He righted his wings, and paid back in kind with his null rays. Thundercracker leveled to his previous position, and derailed two missiles beneath me. Everything was instinct now. There was no time to process the situation around us. Weapon systems blistering hot, we reached halfway point, and had to descend further for me to get my single shot.

My trine mates were struggling to keep up with my speed. They pushed their engines until they screeched, but I was losing them. I was lighter and slimmer. If I flew at top speed without regard for their capabilities, our formation would break faster than Skywarp could teleport. Since he could teleport, he had a slight better time than Thundercracker. He popped around me, firing in succession, and brought down several attempts to take me out of the sky. I did my best to make his job easier, avoiding as many attacks as I could. However, there were too many. A laser shot sailed from below, and Skywarp teleported under me, taking it on a wing. It pierced straight through, a gaping hole that threw my purple trine mate into a spiraling flip that clenched my spark in ice. He let out a cry, flight a jerking wobble, but he recovered quickly, warping back to my left wing. He did not even complain about the wound. There was no time if he wanted to clear my path

I did not dare to feel relieved. I pushed my speed further.

Thundercracker was falling behind, but he was within range. His thrusters roared, a steady tremble in the air, rippling against my flight sensors until they buzzed. The sound was as though a Space Shuttle plunging through an atmosphere, and the thought stirred my spark, an inappropriate giddiness. My blue trine mate had quite the aim. His shots were accurate, giving me just enough cover to slip around any stray shots sneaking past his defenses. However, I could not remain unscathed. Cosmetic injuries aside, both of my wings bore cuts and scrapes. They did not hinder my speed, but they did make maneuvering a little harder.

"TC! Your left!" Skywarp shouted. His voice was drowned out by a loud explosion. It was close. Too close. I was not in its immediate range, but my audials stung with feedback, a wave of heat lashing against my scorched derma. I did not hear Thundercracker cry out. I felt it. I felt him taking the strike. His end of the trine link flared with a crippling wave of agony, and I almost stumbled, barely escaping a thicket of cannon blasts. Skywarp spat curses, but he remained in position, keeping to my side. He had to ensure I reached the tank. Even Thundercracker's safety was secondary compared to our objective.

I knew Thundercracker was still in the air though. His spark was strong, a searing star of frustration and pain. A few kliks later, the familiar rumbling of his thrusters came within auditory range. An artillery shell shooting for my right wing was diverted by a precise null ray blast.

We continued through enemy airspace. The tank came into view, and by Primus was it ugly, even more so than I remembered. It was covered by splashes of muddy colours, and its proportions were messy, no elegant lines to speak of. It was like a nest of barrels, cannons grouped in dozens. They were raised, pointed skyward, all of them aimed toward—

…Us.

There was no time for alarm. I was halfway through sending a warning glyph to my trine mates when the rows of cannons fired, a wave of cluster shells screaming toward us. Skywarp shot his null rays, cussing more creatively than the most seasoned soldier. Laser fire joined the cannon discharges, until the night sky lit up with colour, and this time, one of them caught my right wing, spearing through the plating, a sear that melted wires and sensory modules. I stumbled, neural network an uproar of pain. However, I only gritted it back, and forced myself to ignore its bite, bludgeoning on.

Thundercracker was lagging behind. He continued to help, but he was too far back to offer much aid. His speed had been compromised, He must have received a terrible injury, to slow to such a degree while his thrusters remained functional. I knew we did not have much time left. I was not about to endanger the sparks of my trine mates to get rid of a tank, but I did not want to give up, not just yet, not when I was so close to my target.

My pride alone would not allow me to disengage the mission.

A cry from Skywarp startled me out of concentration. He received a direct hit.

"Slag!" I heard him shout, and he was suddenly gone, his disappearance so fast that he might as well have teleported.

:My thrusters are down!: He spoke through comm., :I can teleport to your side, Star, but you're pretty much on your own.:

Missiles, cannon blasts – they were everywhere, each aimed to bring me down. The Autobots were persistent. They were wasting ammo on one single Seeker. I did not know if they were aware of who I was. I could not spare even one klik to think as I flipped, dove, veered in the air. Scorch marks blackened my plating. Lasers clipped my wings and my tailfin. The head of a large missile almost struck my nosecone, and I yelped, throwing myself to the side with a roll. Every surface on my frame hurt. My spark swirled with rising fear as thoughts of self-preservation began to cloud my processors. Maybe I should retreat. One mission was not worth my life. However, before I could decide whether to abandon the objective or continue, the tank came into view, a hulking mass sitting at the center of enemy lines.

With renewed urgency, I gave my thrusters a boost, and sped toward my target. Energon raced through my fuel lines. My engines shrieked, the sound shrill, piercing through the rumbling of cannons. My spark strummed. My senses heightened as deadly shots soared past my wings. I flung my frame into dangerous maneuvers, deep into the grasp of howling, scorching winds.

Skywarp popped into view, several wingspans in front of me. He shot down a few missiles, and disappeared as I surged past him over his helm. I was close now. Within kliks, I would reach the optimal range to shoot. Just as triumph dawned to my spark, a shout of alarm yanked the air beneath my wings.

"Starscream! Below you!" Skywarp screamed, so loud that his voice cracked to static. There was a missile blasting toward the underside of my alt-mode, converging with my flight path in less than a flicker of optic. I cried out, frantic, and did the only thing I could.

I transformed, twisting in midair. Panic struck me deep in the chassis as the missile soared past my hips, and coasted my left wing.

It almost tapped the tip of my limb. I fell, back first, plunging toward the ground in base-mode.

By a mere stroke of luck, the tank was right under me. Hurtling down in freefall, I stayed in base-form, and shot my null rays at anything that got too close. I turned in the air, movement aided by my wings, and paralyzed several Autobots in vicinity of my main target. A flashing, red warning appeared on my HUD. My proximity sensors blared, alerting me of impact. I flipped with a burst from my thrusters, peds swinging down, and landed right on top of the tank with a booming crash, knees buckling under the force of my descent.

I slammed onto the tank, bracing my fall with a hand. It hurt, but my thrusters had stalled my momentum enough that my joints did not suffer impact strain. As soon I caught my balance, I stood, and sought out the command hub buried deep in the fortress of cannons. The Autobots around me were too shocked to act, optics wide and lips apart, giving me just enough time to take my aim. With a triumphant, arrogant smirk, I lifted my arm, and fired. For one, glorious moment, time seemed to slow. My shot slipped between the barrels, and sank into the innards of the tank, where a gradual, growling rumble began to build.

That was my cue to leave. With a leap, I transformed, and took off in a straight line toward the sky. The air cracked as I broke the sound barrier. I did not even have the time to gloat before the tank exploded, loud and beautiful, an eruption of flaming parts in a burst of red that gobbled the Autobots in a single swallow.

I reached a safe altitude, and shifted back into root-mode. I floated in the air, reveling in the afterglow of my victory. My frame ached, most prominently in my wings, but I could not stop the massive grin from overtaking my faceplate. I stayed until the Autobots shook themselves out of their stunned stupor, and transformed back into jet-mode, flying in the direction with which I came in search for my trine mates.

I found Thundercracker circling the sky, dodging shots. Through the bond, I could feel a flicker of agitation, laced with worry and fear. Skywarp was nowhere to be seen, which I assumed was Thundercracker's source of turmoil. Curious, I accessed my bond, and felt around for the purple idiot until I stumbled into a pit of rage and pain.

What in the pits?

"Thundercracker, report!" I veered into base-mode.

"It's Skywarp." Thundercracker transformed as well, slowing to a hover beside me. "His thrusters are down, and he started losing altitude. I couldn't reach him in time, so he crashed, right into a group of Autobots." My trine mate's optics flashed, wide with distress. "Every time I ventured down, mechs shot at me. I brought down a few of them, but I did not have enough time to see what's happened to 'Warp."

"You didn't even see him?" I asked, wing joints stiffening.

"No, there was too much smoke and debris. Shadows moved with the flames, so it was hard to catch a glimpse." Thundercracker glanced down, lips pursed. "What do we do, Star? We can't just leave him. 'Warp's pretty good with ground combat, but there was at least a dozen of Autobots around where he'd crashed, and many more stationed in proximity. As far as I know, his null rays still worked, but even those won't help him before he gets injured, or captured, or-or—"

I would have cut him off had he not done so himself. I've never seen my blue trine mate so rattled. His fists trembled, and his wings shook, tips pointed down. His ventilation was ragged, with wheezing intakes of air. He bit his lips, the corners of which quivered, and he kept his gaze locked on the landscape below us, optics keen, bright, searching for a pair of purple-striped wings he could not possibly spot this high up.

Skywarp could not deactivate. He simply couldn't. He was too much of a stubborn slagger to do something like that, and Pristinus has always told me idiots were exceptional lucky. Skywarp's spark signal was strong through our trine bond. He was obviously too distracted with what was happening on the ground to talk to us, but we knew he was very much alive.

:Starscream to Vosian generals – the mission is a success.: I comm.-ed my subordinates. I needed to report in before coming up with a rescue plan for Skywarp. :Casualty count – none. Thundercracker and I sustain minor injuries, but Skywarp has become grounded. Inform Megatron to proceed with the plan. I won't be available until Skywarp has been retrieved.:

:Soundwave – receives.: Who in the pits asked him?:Status of mission – forwarded. Plan – Proceeding.: Soundwave replied, but he was quickly shoved out of the conversation.

:Bladeflight receives.: My Fighter Jet general spoke up. :Sire, retrieval is too dangerous. Please allow me or one of the other generals to initiate rescue.:

:Negative. I don't want to wait.: I shot the idea down. :Our troops need their generals for maneuver coordination. I will retrieve Skywarp with Thundercracker's help. I am aware that grounded fliers, by military protocol, are not rescued. However, Skywarp is my trine mate, and as his trine leader, I am responsible for his safety. I can't leave him with the Autobots.:

:Your Highness—: Bladeflight tried to argue, but another voice cut him off in my defense.

:Let it go, Old Blade. We're in no position to challenge him.: Ramjet's manner of speech was casual, but his tone was firm. :It'd be difficult for any trine to leave behind a mate, and Skywarp's one of the only two Seekers in all of Vos that can actually keep up with Star. Besides, you know none of us generals can leave our soldiers. The battle can tip either way at this point, and technically, Megatron outranks our Crown Prince, so we have our respective duties.:

:Rank or not, I follow Vos, not Kaon.: Bladeflight spat out the name. Before Ramjet could reply, a third voice spoke up.

:General Bladeflight, you are wasting our time. We should be regrouping our forces, not stalling the battle.: Stormstrike's voice had enough bite to be snappish. :We've already loitered long enough. Your opinions, while well-founded, do not outweigh Prince Starscream's decision. Stop dawdling over there and come back at once. Your lack of focus is unsettling the troops.:

:I apologize.: Bladeflight did sound embarrassed and sorry. :Please be careful, Prince Starscream. If you encounter any complications, I am available for contact.:

:Affirmative.: I replied, a little impatient for the conversation to end. :Starscream , out.:

:All hail our Crown!: Bladeflight responded before I terminated our contact. A little reassured from the undying loyalty of my fliers, I turned to Thundercracker.

"We will scout the area first, to locate Skywarp. Once we've assessed our situation, we will decide on our next move."

Thundercracker nodded. We both changed into our jet-modes, and flew down.

In the distance, I could hear the Decepticons beginning to mobilize and move in. Loud battle cries and blaring cannon blasts distracted the Autobots from looking skyward, so only a handful of enemy soldiers noticed my approach with my remaining trine mate. Shooting them down was easy, and, before long, we reached a good cruising altitude. We avoided laser shots, stray or intentional, and started our search for Skywarp.

Spotting him did not take long. Surrounded by five Autobots, our trine mate had his arms restrained by two, faceplate shoved down against the ground. Despite the blasters pointed at his helm, he struggled, snarling at the grounders around him. Just as I was about to signal Thundercracker to pull up so we could formulate a plan, he burst forward with a boom from his thrusters, and speared down toward our purple Seeker.

"Thundercracker! What in the pits are you doing?!" I was so surprised that I blurted aloud instead of using the comm..

"They're touching his wings!" Thundercracker's engine ground out a roar, null rays brightening with charge. "The sick fraggers are touching his wings!"

I did not notice that they were. However, upon closer inspection, the two holding Skywarp did have their hands pressed flat against his wings. They were obviously doing it to keep Skywarp down, not to molest him. I had no idea where Thundercracker's bout of rage had come from. This was so unlike him, and it alarmed me. I've never heard him growl with such aggression before.

I chased after Thundercracker, and caught up with him. However, any attempt I could have made to stop him was too late. The Autobots already saw us, but before they could even turn around, Thundercracker fired. He hit one of the grounders, who crashed into the dirt without so much as a grunt. His plating was not thick enough to withstand a null ray shot, so he deactivated, optics flickering to darkness. This triggered a chorus of angered cries. The Autobots swung up their weapons, and fired at us. At such low altitude, Thundercracker and I were well in range of the blasters. I cursed, and yanked up my nosecone, expecting Thundercracker to follow suit. To my utter shock, he did not. He charged toward the Autobots, straight into the throes of enemy fire.

Shots pierced through his wings, and left smoking holes. My blue trine mate did not even seem to notice, surging onward. I was so stunned by the utter absurdity of his actions that I transformed into base-mode and hovered, staring with widened optics at my impulsive trine mate, who hit another grounder straight in the chassis with a null ray blast. This Autobot did not deactivate, but he was paralyzed for at least a whole breem, which left only one grounder to restrain Skywarp.

Skywarp had noticed our presence by now, helm tilted up. He was gaping at Thundercracker, lips hanging apart, and I wondered if I looked the same, following my blue Seeker's frame with a gaze of disbelief. Seeing Thundercracker violent was very, very strange. For a long moment, I forgot about the battle. I floated at one spot in the air, completely vulnerable to attacks, and just stared.

Thundercracker's plating suffered a patchwork of burns and open wounds. His left wing bore a large gash slicing across the middle, leaving streaks of energon coating his blue-striped plating. It looked excruciating, but he didn't appear to care. He charged forward despite his injuries, and flung his frame into a transformation as he neared the Autobots.

The grounder restraining Skywarp let out an undignified yelp, scrambling to get out of the way, but he was too late. With a growling cry, Thundercracker rammed into him, and the two of them tumbled over the hill of debris, out of my view.

"TC! TC!" Skywarp's alarmed shouts jolted me out of my stupor. The teleporter was trying to get to our blue trine mate, but he was caught before he could, thrashing in the grip of another pair of Autobots. I sprang into action, rushing after Thundercracker. I did not bother transforming back to jet-mode. Being this close to the ground, having limbs was much more efficient.

More Autobots around the area noticed us, having heard Skywarp's yelling. They started to run in our direction, focusing on where I knew Thundercracker had fallen to, and I cursed, null rays whirring as I began my assault from above. I dealt out shots after shots, but more grounders kept coming. Narrowly avoid a short-range missile, I flew past the hill, and spotted the blue Seeker.

Thundercracker was rolling on the ground, in a fist-fight with the Autobot. He was clearly on the losing side, already pinned down on his back, but he refused to give up. Tugging up his legs, he curled his knees, and threw the grounder off with a blast from his thrusters. As soon as his opponent stumbled back, he leapt onto his peds, and tackled the Autobot.

Thundercracker was obviously not a fighter. His punches were poorly aimed and sloppy. They lacked the brutal surge of strength needed to make enough impact to deter an opponent, but that did not come as a surprise. Close-quarter combat was unnatural to fliers, not to mention it felt much more personal than raining bombs from above. Thundercracker was not a vicious mech, and the Autobot was a trained soldier – a trained soldier who knew exactly where to hit to hurt.

With a wrench at a wing, Thundercracker was brought down, crying out in pain. The Autobot reversed their positions, and straddled my blue trine mate, blaster a brisk click as it pointed straight at my Seeker's cockpit.

I froze.

Ice frosted the inside of my spark chamber.

"No! TC! No!" Skywarp screamed, bucking and kicking within his captors' arms, optics stretched wide with horror. "Don't you dare shoot, you slagger! Don't you fragging dare!" I had never before seen such desperation from my purple trine mate, and it gutted my core, a thud that struck me deep in the chassis.

I transformed, and veered back. I shot my null rays, so rushed that I could not even aim. Thundercracker was in danger. His life was threatened, and I was the only one of my trine still in the air. In alt-mode, I was much faster and more agile. Circling back, I fired again, never once stopping just to keep the Autobots away from Thundercracker and Skywarp. I could not shoot the grounder on top of my Wing Right. He was too close, and he was looking at me, as if daring me to try. The situation was on a temporary standstill, but I was running out of time. I needed a plan, a fragging good plan, if I wanted to get my trine to safety.

Slag it, why did Thundercracker act on impulse now of all times? This rescue mission would have been much easier if he hadn't charged in without thought. Without my trine mates, I was vulnerable. There was no one to watch my back as I flew, and if I was brought down, there would be no saving us. I was defenseless with my trine mates grounded. I couldn't do a damned thing. Autobots were gathering, even though they had to take cover from my rain of null ray fire. But how long could I keep this up? Eventually, my compact cannons would run out of charge. It would take time for my systems to recharge, and during that time, there would be plenty of opportunities for the Autobots to shoot me down.

I could not fare well on the ground. I was even more helpless than Thundercracker in close-quarter combat, despite my malicious streak. The Autobots would have me faceplate flat against the ground faster than I could recover from initial impact after a crash. If that happened, what then? I knew I would be kept away from harm, but what of my trine mates? What use would my trine mates have for the Autobots if they had me?

Skywarp was still struggling with his captors. Catching sight of him, an idea snapped together, aided by instinct. I changed my aim, and took down one of the grounders restraining my purple trine mate. With an eruptive cry, the teleporter shoved the other one, and dislodged the mech from his back. My intakes hitched. My fuel pump stalled. I watched, spark searing with anxiousness, and prayed that the result of the brawl to turn in Skywarp's favour.

With a swooping punch, Skywarp struck the Autobot in the nose-bridge. The grounder staggered back, energon spurting down his faceplate, and the teleporter took that moment to make a leap toward Thundercracker. I shot my null rays when the other Autobots tried to crowd my trine mates in, stalling them just long enough for Skywarp to lunge straight into the grounder pinning Thundercracker down. With a hard grunt, the grounder fell. Thundercracker groaned in pain, and crawled up onto unsteady peds, wings trembling in a downward tilt. He stood up, and lifted his shaky arms, compact cannons flaring online. He started to shoot at our enemies, backing up toward our purple trine mate, who was locked in a scuffle with the mech he'd knocked off.

Skywarp rolled with the grounder, dentae bared and optics blazing. He was much more relentless in a fist fight, skills undoubtedly honed in Kaon bar fights before the war. He hit the Autobot with blows that crunched upon impact. With an overhead strike by joined fists, he knocked the grounder out into stasis for good.

Laser fire and cannon blasts flew through the air, but I managed to keep the Autobots at bay. Primus must have been merciful to my trine during that night cycle. As soon as the grounder was down, Skywarp bolted toward Thundercracker, and latched onto him, disappearing with a puff of purple smoke. I pulled up my nosecone, and flew straight into the sky. A blaster nicked my tailfin, but I barely felt its bite on the peripheral of my sensory grid. A set of coordinates pinged from my trine's comm.-link. They were right above me, coming into view the higher I climbed. They were clutching each other, hovering by Thundercracker's thrusters. I reached them, and transformed, throwing my arms around them both.

Speech was unnecessary. The klik after, we were back on the tallest building of Praxus, where we had been standing prior to the mission.

Peds once again touching firm ground, I unraveled my arms around my trine mates, and let out a deep ex-vent of relief. I almost dropped to my knees. My resolve almost buckled. However, I forced myself to stay upright, keeping my joints locked by will alone. I was the trine leader. I was the Crown Prince. Despite the what-ifs racing through my processors, plaguing my thoughts, making a wreck of my spark, I could not fall. Not now. Not when the battle was still around us. Not until the night cycle has passed.

I could not let my guard down, not until I was back in Vos, alone in my berth chamber. Only then was I allowed to acknowledge the terror, the panic, fighting to boil over the surface. It was only when I was shielded from all optics could I experience the fear of losing my two most important Seekers to the blasters of the Autobots. My trine mates, on the other wing, had no such reservation. They collapsed as soon as we arrived back at the building, and clung on to each other as though an invisible force was trying to tear them apart.

Thundercracker clutched onto Skywarp, as if afraid that the purple Seeker was kliks from dissipating into thin air. My Wing Right started to cry. The full weight of his actions must have sunk in, when the rush of battle faded, bleeding the strength from his shivering limbs. We were lucky. We were damned lucky. All three of us managed to escape with only injuries to speak of, and even now, I could not comprehend how. Thundercracker must be suffering terrible bouts of guilt. His careless surrender to impulse almost got himself killed, and what would have been left for us, his trine, if he were taken from us.

It was a backlash he deserved. He should feel guilty. However, as I watched him, tears staining his cheekplates, I simply couldn't muster the urge to be angry with him.

Skywarp held our blue trine mate. His wings trembled, and his optics were dark, shutters closed. Coolant gathered, but he refused to shed them. He bit his jaws, and swallowed the sounds fighting to burst though, a strangled gurgle inside his throat. He seemed to be in shock still. His frame was rigid. I knew what he was seeing behind offlined vision. My own spark shook at the very same imagery that must have played in his processors as well.

Thundercracker on the ground, helpless, on his back.

And The Autobot…pushing him down…

Pointing a charged blaster right against his brittle canopy…

I shuddered, and gritted my dentae. Turning from my trine mates, I offlined my optics, and ran deep cycles of air through my intakes. I rubbed my faceplate, fighting to rein in my emotions. First things first. My trine mates needed medical attention. They were hurt worse than I was, and could very well bleed into stasis if they did not receive medical care right away.

Clearing my processors, I accessed the Vosian medical frequency. A new comm.-line opened prior to battle. It was given to all soldiers in case they become grounded and hurt. Pristinus had insisted to come along to Praxus, arguing that he would no longer allow any more fliers to deactivate due to lateness in proper treatment. He'd brought along a medical team, all members wearing the Cybertronian Seal of Exemption on their wings.

The Seal of Exemption signaled to all soldiers, flier or ground pounder, Decepticon or Autobot, that its wearers were medics, saving the wounded. This would, in theory, make sure the medics were left alone. However, accidents could still happen, as stray fire could also kill. I was blatantly against the idea of my Head Medic flying through battle sites. However, as always, Pristinus proved to be a persuasive and stubborn glitch, hence getting his way to bring his team to battle.

Skywarp could teleport both him and Thundercracker back to Vos, but I did not want to chance him warping such a distance under stress. :This is Crown Prince Starscream,: I connected to the frequency, and sent out a ping, :requesting Commanding Medical Officer Pristinus. Respond with haste.:

:CMO Pristinus receiving. All hail Prince Starscream.: Pristinus's familiar, gentle voice reached my audials, and I almost buckled out of relief all over again. :What is it, Sire? Are you hurt?: My medic asked, and I took another deep cycle of air before replying.

:Negative, it's not me. It's my trine mates.: I glanced back at Thundercracker and Skywarp, running a quick scan of their conditions. :Most of their injuries are minor, but they have several wounds that haven't stopped bleeding. Skywarp's thrusters are down, and Thundercracker has enough holes in his wings to render flying in alt-mode completely out of the question.: I sighed, spark getting heavier by each word. :We are safe, for now, high enough to not be bothered. I'm sending you the coordinates to our current location.:

:Coordinates received, your Highness.: Pristinus replied. :Are they both conscious?:

:Affirmative.: I did not need to turn around to know. Thundercracker kept on making scared little noises, to which Skywarp returned with murmurs of comfort.

:Any external signs of system failure, Sire?: Pristinus asked next.

:Negative.: I answered as I gave my trine mates another inspection.

:Are they bleeding profusely?:

:Negative, but it hasn't stopped.:

:Understood.: Pristinus paused for a klik. :How about you, your Majesty?: He asked.

I looked over my frame, and ran a quick diagnostic.

:I'm still capable for battle.: I spoke with as much certainty as I had the ability to muster. :My self-repair system is in the process of sealing minor ruptures and tears, but most of them are done.:

:Understood.: Pristinus kept his professionalism, but he sounded a little relieved. :How is your energon level, your Highness?:

:Approximately fifty-six percent.:

:I will bring some emergency ration cubes, then.:

:How long will you take to get here?: I had to ask, even though rushing a field medic was impolite.

:Not long, Sire, I promise you.: Pristinus always knew just what to say, and for that I was always grateful for.

:Good,: I nodded to myself. :Be careful along your way.:

:Affirmative, your Highness. By calculation, I will arrive in two breems.:

:Understood,: I started a timer. Watching the numbers click down was reassuring. :Starscream, out.: I ended our call, and turned to my trine mates.

They were still huddled together, sitting on the dusty floor. Skywarp had onlined his optics. He was stroking Thundercracker's wings, a cheek pressed against the blue Seeker's helm. Thundercracker was leaning against the teleporter, a few drops of coolant lingering on his faceplate. To my alarm, his optics were dark. He was not moving at all, still as a statue and just as unresponsive.

"Thundercracker?" I called out, thrusters not daring to scrape even a wingtip.

Thundercracker remained motionless. However, his optics flashed to a dim glow, looking back at me with a dull flicker of light.

I heaved a sigh of relief, and felt the tension in my wings ease a little. I was still worried, but at least he was conscious. I studied his expression, and frowned. He appeared to be battling to stay awake.

"TC? How are you feeling?" I walked slightly closer, but kept a good distance. The way those two held each other made me feel like the odd one out, as though they had something I was not a part of. It was silly, of course, inappropriate for the situation. However, looking down at them, I could not shake the sensation off. The fact that they had not asked me to join them bothered me, even though I'd been the one who left it.

"Aside from the pain, I'm just glad we're all safe." Thundercracker whispered, and smiled, though the gesture did not reach his optics. "I'm sorry for the way I acted." His gaze lowered, and his smile became strained, the joints of his jaws visibly clenching.

"Are you having trouble staying awake?" I asked just to get his mind off from depressing matters.

"I'm…feeling tired." He sighed, and stared ahead. "I'm comfortable." He leaned against Skywarp, and the purple Seeker embraced him tighter.

"Try not to go into stasis." It was hard to not panic. "Pristinus will be here soon, in just a little over one breem. He's bringing emergency rations. Once you have some energon, you'll feel more awake."

"Y'hear that, TC?" Skywarp murmured, lips pressing against Thundercracker's helm as he tilted down his chin to peer at the blue Seeker's faceplate. "Pri's bringin' us his special home-brew high-grade!" He tried to joke, and made a poor attempt at his usual, careless laugh. "This' almost like deliv'ry service!"

Thundercracker's smile widened, optics brightening. He might have chuckled, but the sound was too quiet for me to catch. Regardless, he looked a little more awake, even going as far as sitting upright a little more. The next breem passed in silence. I comm.-ed Bladeflight to let him know we were alright. I stood watch over my trine mates, and kept a keen optic on the airspace around us, for the arrival a white Stealth Jet.

Below us, the battle raged. By now, the Decepticons has already pushed their way through half of the western Autobot front. Praxus has yet succumbed to flames, but within the next several joors, it would, despite how tenacious the Autobots were. Speaking of, they were a lot more organized than before. They have been using new strategies, and seemed to be, as a whole, more motivated and focused. This could very well be their determination for revenge, since they believed the Decepticons responsible for blowing up Cybertron's energon reserves. Primus knew what other lies the Senate told their people to fuel their hatred, just to convince a few more weak-willed civilians into joining their hypocritical, outdated cause.

However, despite the numerous possible explanations, I felt an uncomfortable itch that those were not it. The Autobots appeared to have regained their purpose, recovered direction. They had a look in their optics as they fought, a look aimless mechs simply could not have. This did not sit well in my spark. It prickled my flight sensors with suspicion. What could the enemy be up to?

A white dot appeared on my peripheral. Turning to the right, I spotted Pristinus in alt-mode, flying toward us at top speed. Nearing the building, he transformed, and landed without so much as a tap. A swift bow later, he approached me, and asked if he could run a quick scan on my frame.

I nodded. There was a low buzz, and a thin sheet of blue-tinted light spread from the Stealth Jet's one-spec visor. Skywarp and Thundercracker waited for Pristinus to finish, watching as the scan swept over me from helm to thruster.

"You're clear, your Highness." Pristinus smiled, and took out two small cubes from subspace. "Please drink this slowly," He handed me one of the cubes, "And keep one for the remainder of battle." He handed me the other, and dipped of his helm, "I will tend to your trine mates while you refuel, Sire."

I nodded in reply, dismissing him, and he walked to Skywarp and Thundercracker.

I peeled off the cover of the cube, and took a small sip. It was not as smooth as refined energon, but it was potent. I felt a rejuvenating tingle spread through my frame as soon as it hit my tank. Pristinus must have added something to make it so efficient. Very helpful, especially in war, and it did not taste half bad. I finished the cube, and placed the second one into subspace for later use, if necessary.

Pristinus knelt down next to my trine mates, and asked them to part from each other. Once they did, the medic started running numerous scans on Thundercracker, the weaker of the two, and made a few inquiries before requesting access to the blue Seeker's medical ports. Within ten breems, Pristinus had all of my trine mates' injuries patched up. He handed them three small cubes of energon each, and stood up, turning around to face me in report.

"Your Highness, your Wing Right and Wing Left are currently stable." He said. "However, I would highly advise that they return to Vos for treatment at a fully equipped medical bay. There are limits to how much work I can do on site. Returning to battle is unrecommendable for them."

Normally, my choice would be obvious. If the situation were any different, I would have told my trine mates to go to a med bay immediately. However, I was still obligated to stay in Praxus. Though my main objective has been accomplished, I was required to stay to oversee the progress of my fliers. My presence boosted morale, and sometimes that was what made the difference.

No Seeker liked entering battle without his trine mates.

"They cannot fly with me, even after the repairs and refuel?" I asked, shifting on my peds as I crossed my arms.

"By my medical expertise, no, Sire."

"Understood," I gave a brisk nod. "Thundercracker, Skywarp," I tilted my helm toward my trine mates, "you will return to Vos at once. Skywarp, are you still capable of teleportation?"

"Well, yeah, but," Skywarp frowned, and shared a glance with Thundercracker, "What about you? You're gonna be a Seeker without a trine. That's dangerous."

"War is dangerous." I forced a hard edge into my voice, lips a firm line. "You will teleport to a med bay as soon as you finish your cube. Pristinus, will you stay with them until they leave?"

"Affirmative, Sire." Pristinus bowed his helm.

"Good," I nodded. "I need to return to battle. Megatron would not be pleased to see me absent for so long. I'm supposed to give him updates on the battle site." I paused as I caught the worried optics of my trine mates. I did not want to leave them, and they obviously did not want to see me fly away by myself, alone. My sentiments as trine leader clashed with my responsibilities as Crown. However, as always, my duties to my city came first. Without another look, I snapped around on my thruster heels, and strode to the edge of the building.

"Block the trine bond. I do not want any distractions." I barked out an order, words clipped to be heard over the wind. Perhaps I was too harsh. There were trickles of hurt from my trine mates, especially Thundercracker, just before I closed my end of our link. However, I did not turn around to reassure him. My resolve was hanging by a cable. Every step was a struggle, a weight dragging to stop me from returning to the pits below.

I neared the edge of the building, and prepared to take off. Just as I pushed onto the ledge, Thundercracker blurted out:

"Star! Wait!"

I stalled, but I did not turn to face him.

"Be careful." He was no longer hysterical, voice regaining to its usual smooth texture. I flicked a wing as acknowledgement, and leapt off from the building.

I transformed into jet-mode, the activation of my flight system a low rumbling compared to the shrieking of the wind. Right before I was doing to spear into the sky, I caught a quiet, murmured plea from my blue trine mate, one that I was certain he had not meant for me to hear:

"Don't do what I did for Skywarp."

The last components snapped into place. I shot through the howling currents, the building behind me dwindling into a blur of shadow in a mere few kliks. Thundercracker's words echoed in my processors, pulling taut the cables of my joints. For a long moment, I did not even notice the flames and explosions beneath me, awareness overtaken by shock trying to discern the implications behind that seemingly innocent statement.

The sudden collapse of a building jolted me out of my thoughts. Clearing my processors of my trine mate's words, I swerved in the air, and headed for the Helix Gardens. Most of my fliers were already on station there, either protecting the area from stray missiles or keeping any Autobots or civilians from entering it. Megatron's orders had been clear: no survivors. Those too weak to join us must perish, their energon spilled to pave the way for their superior to rule. Aside from the Helix Gardens, the city must face complete devastation. It was metaphoric to the Decepticon cause, the old way demolished and burned to the ground, nothing left except ashes serving as foundation of the New Age to come.

I neared the art district of the city. There was a significantly less amount of fire and debris here. There was, however, a much bigger crowd of dead bodies littered around. Very few of them were Autobots. They were mostly civilians, lying on the streets. What separated them from soldiers was that they were, on a large part, intact. They still had the correct number of limbs on the general consensus, and they weren't missing chunks of their frames, unless, of course, they were crushed under fallen buildings.

I lowered in altitude, and glided over the carnage. Looking at the faces of those deceased had always been a bit of morbid fun for me. Their faceplates contorted to the most exaggerated of emotions. There was a large grounder sitting by a broken piece of wall. He wore the most awful and optic-searing shade of green I had ever seen, and his mouth was a big gaping hole, optics stretched so wide that the glass cracked in the middle.

In his arms, he held a little bundle. The mech must have been wealthy. Fabric was ridiculously difficult to come by on Cybertron, and not many could afford it. Peeking through the folds of cloth was a small arm, motionless and outstretched. The cloth itself was stained with energon, and, right in the middle, was a round, scorched hole.

One shot.

It had penetrated through both sparkling and creator.

I hummed, impressed, and giggled when I glanced at the green mech's faceplate. Again, so exaggerated, and also very ugly. Thank Primus the grounder died. What if his sparkling inherited his terrible taste in paintjob, or – an even more horrifying thought – his facial features?

That would truly be an abomination.

"Unit trine leader Cloudbolt reporting, your Majesty." A voice rang out behind me. "All hail Prince Starscream!"

I startled, and tilted up my nosecone, gaining altitude before circling back. There was a trine of Seekers hovering in root-mode, helms lowered with their hands placed on their canopies, right over their sparks. The trine leader was the one who'd spoken. I transformed as well, and floated above them, a few wingspans away.

"Rise." I waited for them to look up. "Are you of the patrol trines responsible for this sector? You look young. Not bad for a trine of new recruits. Very effective and clean shots."

"Affirmative, Sire. Thank you," Cloudbolt replied, bowing his helm once more in expression of gratitude. "My trine has been reassigned by General Ramjet to escort you to the Helix Garden, your Highness."

I was annoyed that Ramjet spotted me so quickly, as I'd wanted to snoop around a bit more. However, I decided to save these young Seekers the grief of begging me to go with them. With a nod, I transformed back into jet-mode, and kept my speed slow, until Cloudbolt's trine fell into formation around me. Cloudbolt himself went ahead, half a wing span below me but in front. His trine mates settled by my sides, also slightly lower as to not come within my wing space.

In less than a breem, I was escorted to the Helix Gardens. It was a massive dome, constructed entirely by crystal. It looked fragile, as though the slightest touch would topple its structure. However, it was very sturdy, supported by geometric shapes. A masterpiece designed by one of the greatest Cybertronian architects, Eisodos, the Helix Gardens was the epitomic manifestation of the Golden Age. Various artworks lay interspersed within the dome. Only the most prestigious had the honour of placing their creations inside it, elevating the cultural worth of the garden to unprecedented degree.

Another main attraction it held was the rare crystals, blue in colour, mined from an alien colony planet. They hung suspended in the air, and would sing in harmonious, resonating dings upon receiving a specific pitch by striking two pieces of cylindrical metal together, located at the center of the garden. Their song marked the beginning of every vorn, attracting audience from every corner of the planet. The last time I'd attended was just before my space expedition with Skyfire. He had stood beside me as I struck the initial note, optics glimmering brighter than even the orbs of light around us, floating above like bursts of stars.

I approached the top of the dome, where my generals were, watching their troops. The bulk of my soldiers were stationed around the garden, creating a fortress of fliers. Ramjet and Stormstrike bowed upon my arrival. Bladeflight hailed my designation. I instructed them to rise, and the Conehead of the three floated closer, dismissing Cloudbolt and his trine before turning toward me with a frown on his faceplate.

"Where are your trine mates?" He asked, and gave me a look. "Did you lose 'em again?"

"No!" I snapped. "They got hurt, so I sent them back to Vos."

Ramjet nodded. "You should stay with us then." He gestured behind him with a small wave. "It's dangerous for a Seeker to fly without trine mates."

"I don't need you telling me." I grumbled, and crossed my arms, sending the two Conehead Seekers behind him a glance.

They were Ramjet's trine mates, Thrust and Dirge. They were close, but they hung back by rule of etiquette, since I was a Seeker currently without a trine. The two of them bowed, and I returned their greeting with a nod, the back of my neck cables stiff. Despite my rank and obvious superiority, I felt a little intimidated, as they were the Conehead Command Trine and I was alone. Seekers hated being within proximity to another trine without his own wing mates. It did not feel natural, and Ramjet's trine mates were big, with wide wings any soldier would blatantly boast of. The fact that Ramjet was courting me made the situation even more awkward. I felt as though his trine mates were assessing me. The slaggers. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

"Is the area secured?" I ignored the two optic-sores, and addressed my general. "No infiltration from the Autobots?" I refused to acknowledge the bubble of nervousness in my spark, and stretched my wings into a haughty perk on my back.

"Negative, Sire," Ramjet answered. "However, a small number of civilians snuck past our defenses."

I stared at the Conehead.

"Is this a joke?" My lips curled in displeasure. "You kept out the Autobots but couldn't stop a few ground pounder civilians?"

"They were many, your Highness." Ramjet let out a blast of air, and dipped his helm. "They came in a wave. Four hundred or so adult frames running toward the garden from all direction at once. We took out most of them, but about fifty went inside the dome."

I sighed, and looked down, trying to peer through the crystal ceiling. Within kliks, I spotted the group of Praxians, huddled together in a corner. They were filthy, covered in dirt and burn marks, leaking puddles on the floor. I sneered. Just the mere thought of those revolting bodies contaminating the beauty of the Helix Gardens churned my tank, searing the insides of my spark chamber with disgust.

"Confrontation will be inevitable if we were to send in strike teams, which is why we're leaving them alone for now." Ramjet explained. "Even civilians retaliate when threatened, which would undoubtedly result in harm to the artworks, if not the garden itself."

Stupid civilians. They complicated everything.

With a hiss of frustration, I sought out Megatron's comm. frequency, and sent him a ping. He did not reply, so I sent him another, wings flicking as I waited, impatience gnawing at my spark. When I sent a third ping and still received no reply, I became anxious. Nothing could have happened to him, could it? He was Supreme Commander, not without subordinates who would throw themselves in harm's way just to save his life. But then again, Megatron was rather unconventional. Most of the time, he was the one charging forward in the frontlines of battle, leading his Decepticons by example as he tore apart the Autobots.

Gritting out a curse, I turned away from Ramjet, who had started to stare at me like I'd lost a circuit. I sent a fourth ping, and marked it with an emergency beacon, hoping that it would catch his attention. Just as the moment began to drag, the line connected, and I could not stop myself from sighing in relief.

:What took you so long?: I yelled at him.

:I'm busy.: He said.

:We all happen to be busy at the moment, Megatron,: I retorted, :But communication is vital if you—:

:-Report to me later.: He cut in, and severed our line, leaving behind a buzz of flat static.

…the frag?!

Disbelief and utter shock at his atrocious treatment of my person stole my speech. Several long kliks passed before I remembered to be angry at him, for brushing me off with such little care. I growled, and clenched my hands into fists. The slagger dared to ignore me in the middle of battle! What if I'd become grounded and needed backup? Was he just going to leave me there? To deactivate? I sent him ten successive pings as quickly as he could, and when he gave no response, sent ten more.

:I'm busy, Starscream!: He finally answered, voice a snarling bellow. :You're becoming an actual distraction than a mere nuisance.:

:I don't care!: I shouted back. :You will answer me when I comm. you, Megatron! I don't care if you're—:

He cut me off again.

The slag-helm!

Optics narrowing, I tapped into the Vosian military line.

:Soundwave, report! What is Megatron's current location?:

There was a slight pause before Soundwave answered.

:Current location of Decepticon Supreme Commander, Lord Megatron – Western quadrant of Praxus, in motion to north-west. Availability – Limited; compromised by battle.:

:I didn't ask you whether he's available or not.: I spat out, glaring out at the city. :Give me his coordinates.:

:Approximate coordinates – provided.: A data burst accompanied Soundwave's reply, and I logged it into my processors.

:Received. Starscream, out.: I left the line, and turned around to address my generals. With a small start, I realized that they were already looking at me, having heard my conversation with Soundwave over comm..

"I need to make a report to our most esteemed supreme commander, who is obviously too important to talk to me through simpler methods of communication." I flicked my wrist in the air before addressing my fliers. "Continue guarding the dome, and ensure that no other civilians reach the Helix Gardens."

"As you command, Sire." Bladeflight replied, bowing his helm. "However," He wore a frown as he straightened, "is making a flight just to deliver a status report truly necessary? I do not mean to challenge you, your Highness, but if you must fly into the battle site, may I suggest the allowance of a trine of Seekers to escort you?"

"Unless you can find me a trine that can match my speed, I'm going alone." I did not mean to sound snappish, but I was annoyed from being cut off twice by Megatron. "My decision has been made. Return to your duties."

Bladeflight was not pleased, but he nodded, and bowed again with the other generals. Ramjet's optics followed me even as I transformed and flew away. I could feel his gaze on my plating as I took off. It prickled my sensory circuits with discomfort, though I tried my best to ignore it.

I rose higher in altitude, and took a large sweep of the city with my visual sensors. Below me, structures collapsed. Buildings fell, and the fire roared, sucking the air from under my wings. I could see shadows against the remnants of devastation, rushing through the flaming ruins in desperate hope to escape. Missiles and shells exploded as they touched the ground. Bursts of light licked the underside of my alt-form, and the heat wrapped its claws around my frame, stroking my plating with teasing caresses.

I reached the location of the coordinates Soundwave had provided for me. However, I did not see Megatron. I hovered, and peeked through the smoke for a better look at what was happening on the ground. From what I could see, the Decepticons were still grappling with the Autobots, though our enemy was starting to struggle. I turned up the sensitivity of my auditory sensors, hoping to catch the familiar, bellowing voice of my lord. However, I could not hear anything even remotely similar to his vocal timber. There was no reason for Soundwave to lie. This could only mean that Megatron had moved on.

An explosive boom that shook the air caught my attention. It was the sound of the fusion cannon, blasting at full capacity. A distant building crumbled, and I knew I had found him. With a brisk veer, I flew in his direction. In less than a breem, I reached the source of the commotion, and, this time, I spotted him right away.

Megatron was barking orders at his mechs, splitting them into groups before sending them off. To my surprise, he ended up alone. This could either mean that this area was already Decepticon territory, or that he was simply too much of an arrogant aft to realize that the lord of a faction should never wander at a battle site all by himself.

I dipped my nosecone, and started my descent with a burst of speed from my thrusters. The screeching of my engines must have alerted him of my arrival, for he stopped his leisurely stroll, and turned his helm up. I flew past him overhead before circling back, transforming in midair when I neared him. I glided into a hover above him, and crossed my arms over my chassis, a scowl on my lips.

"Are you glitched or just stupid?" I gritted out the words. "As our leader, you already have a ridiculous ransom you are not nearly worthy of in the slightest hanging over your helm, and going solitary only makes you an even easier target."

"I can say the same about you, Starscream." He replied, regarding me with mild interest. "I'm surprised you don't have your trine mates with you." He gave me another look, and frowned, lifting a hand to wipe off a large splatter of energon on his faceplate. The thick coating of glowing fluid hindered his vision, and his rubbing only left a bigger smudge. I scoffed through my vents, and made to land.

"Stop that! You're making it worse." My peds touched the ground, and I strode toward him, vents in a huff. "Do you not even have a polishing cloth on you?" I drawled, and took mine out from subspace. "Seriously…Hold still." I tugged down his arm, and reached for his faceplate. Surprisingly, he listened to me, motionless as I cleaned the glass of his optic, the fabric soaking up the drying fuel in one stroke.

"There, better?" I threw the dirtied cloth at his face. "Keep it, a souvenir." I propped up my hands on my hips. "I'm not touching anything that's touched you." I sneered, wings flicking twice on my back.

The cloth bounced off his faceplate. Megatron caught it as it fell. He arched a brow ridge at me, but he did not comment. He folded up the cloth, and tossed it into his subspace.

"Why are you not with your fliers?" He asked. He did not sound like he was pleased to see me. I was deviating from the plan, and he did not like surprises without his permission.

"I'm not with my fliers because a certain scrap-for-processors wouldn't answer my comm.." I bit out, lips curling.

"I did answer you." He replied, optics in a dim, unimpressed glow.

"Only to cut me off!" I yelled at him, bristling in indignation, and swung up an arm to point at his faceplate. "I refuse to tolerate such behaviour committed against me!"

Megatron stared at me for a full, silent klik. He scrunched his nose-bridge, and yanked his helm to the side as through disgusted, field swelling in exasperation. He sent a blast of air through his vents, and shook his helm as though he could not understand what my problem was. Without another word, he strode forward, and shoved me aside, out of his way.

I yelped, stumbling on my thruster heels as they tripped over small pebbles on the ground. I almost fell on my aft, and only managed to catch myself by graceless hops. Regaining my balance, I swirled toward the slagger, wings shooting up on my back.

"Megatron!" I shouted, throwing my fists down to my sides. "How dare you brush me off without an answer! I demand an explanation!"

He continued to walk away, helm tilting side to side, ignoring me. I narrowed my optics, and stomped after him.

"I'm talking to you!"

"Silence your vocalizer!" He snarled down at me, tossing me a glare. "Are you trying to announce our locations to every Autobot in Praxus?"

"I'll silence it when I have my answer!" Just to spite him, I raised my voice, and ran ahead to block his path. "I want an apology!" I stood in his way, fists on my hips, canopy puffed up.

Megatron stared down at me, optics piercing bright against the shadows drenched over his faceplate. "I told you I was busy, as I am now, Starscream." He growled, dentae bared. "Get out of my way."

I only crossed my arms, and refused to budge. His scowl grew more pronounced. He lifted his right arm, and stuck the barrel of the fusion cannon right at my faceplate.

I jumped, sneer morphing into a gape of shock and disbelief. He could not possibly—

"Move." He ground out through gritted dentae, voice a rough scrape of syllables, and the fusion cannon whirred into activation.

Startling with a yelp, I skipped aside. He gave me one last look, and continued on his stroll, not sparing me another glance.

Pride hurt, I sulked, and watched him walk away. I was waiting for him to turn and tell me to follow him, but he kept going, further and further away, as though I was not here at all. Grumbling about how much of a fragger he was, I heaved a huff, and relented, trotting after him. I slowed down as I reached his side, and gave him broody glances.

"I came here to give you my report." I spoke with a brisk tone, squaring my shoulders. "My fliers have secured the Helix Gardens, and set up a perimeter around the dome. They terminated all Autobot attempts at entering the premise, and I haven't received further alerts of enemy activity on site. Praxian civilians tried to breach the perimeter. Most of them were shot down."

"Most of them?" Megatron glanced at me with a minute incline of his helm.

"Approximately fifty civilians made it inside the garden." I explained. His optics narrowed, and I looked away, hurrying to continue. "They're hiding inside the dome, and they have no way out. It'll be easy to starve them to deactivation. Most of them would have at least received injuries. It won't take long for them to bleed out."

Megatron did not look like he was satisfied with my plan. However, before he could voice his displeasure, a shot burst from one of the buildings, and struck him straight through the shoulder. More shots followed, raining down upon us. Oddly enough, none of them seemed to be aiming toward me, those that had missed Megatron pounding into the ground.

"What—?!" I jumped, and snapped around, trying to locate the snipers.

I did not get a chance to look.

Megatron grabbed me by a wing, and yanked me to the side of the street, grunting as a blast seared the side of his torso. I cried out in pain, pulling away and struggling, and punched him straight in the burn, screeching at him to let go or tell me what the frag was going on. However, aside from a wince and a glare, he paid me no mind. He threw me into a crook under a fallen piece of wall, and shoved me in with a ped. My back hit solid metal. My wings clattered. I groaned, and lifted my helm, giving the place a sweep.

The space was tiny. I tried to shuffle out, only to have my exit blocked by a chunk of dead-weight grounder crawling inside the hole after me.

"What in the pits do you think you're doing?!" Hysterics seizing my spark, I scrambled onto my knees, and slapped at his faceplate to get him out of the way. "I have to get out! I have to get out!"

"Stay still." He hissed, optics floating orbs of fire. "We are within range of Autobot snipers."

"And your brilliant plan of combat is to hide in a filthy hole while they send in their ground forces to dig us out?!" My voice rose an entire octave as I pushed against him with my shoulder. "Get out of my way!"

"What is the matter with you?!" Megatron shoved me back with an arm against my canopy. I toppled onto my aft, and squeaked in fright when my wing tips scratched against the ceiling.

"I can't stay here!" I tugged at his arm. "There's not enough space!" I kicked him with my thrusters. "Primus-damnit Megatron," The edges of my vision dotted with black, "I'm going to panic if you don't let me out!"

The space was shrinking, pressing down, choking my intakes and clamping down around my chassis.

"You'll be shot down if I let you out!" He retorted, not budging in the slightest.

"And whose fault is that, you slagger?!" I tried to keep the fear out of my voice. "I told you it was a bad idea to wander around like an aimless idiot! And what did you do? Wandered around like an aimless idiot! You never listen to me! That's what your problem is! Now let me out before I lose my logic circuits and blast your ugly faceplate with my null rays!"

"Shut up, Starscream!" He gritted, vents a roar of hot air. Before I could tell him just where to shove it, he grabbed me by the chin, and slapped a hand over my lip components.

Protests muffled, I tried to yank his hand away. My efforts were futile. He leaned forward, and pressed me right into the back of the crook. Stuck between the grainy surface of a fallen wall and his hard, scratched chassis, I squirmed and struggled, shrieking into his palm. My wings rattled against the debris, and I cursed him in my processors, to distract myself from the horrors of being forced into a tiny, dark hole.

Fortunately, I could still see the exit, and that made me feel a little better. I focused on the sight, purging all other thoughts, and after a while, I started to calm, the world brightening into clarity around me. Only then did I realize Megatron was speaking to me, voice low, hushed.

"—confirm my suspicion." He whispered. At first, his words made no sense. Eventually, however, I began to understand them.

"I'm sure you have noticed by now that the Autobots are different, compared to the last time we fought them." He murmured, lips next to my right audial. "Soundwave contacted me about a transmission he'd intercepted earlier in battle. It contained something of great interest to me, and I'm here to confirm the validity of its claims. If it is indeed true," His lips spread, "The war is about to change for the better."

I gave his wrist a tug, and shook off his hand on my mouth. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe it is a trap?!" I hissed in reply, trying to ignore how warm his chassis was against my canopy.

"Perhaps," He sounded amused, "But this won't be a trap if we trap them in return."

I froze as his words and their implication sank in. Megatron was not wandering alone because he was an idiot. He was trying to catch the attention of the Autobots on purpose, wagering on the fact that he was one of their main targets. He was, simply put, the bait, and I had unknowingly joined him in his attempts at luring out whatever he had come here to see.

"Why didn't you tell me about your plan since the start, you aft?" Peeved, I smacked his chassis, and scrunched my nose bridge. "Now I'm stuck being bait with you."

"Your presence is convenient, so I saw no reason to turn you away when you clearly wanted to stay." Megatron was a little too pleased. I huffed, and jerked my faceplate away, wiggling in what little room I had to move. "There is still a chance that the Autobots will deactivate me on sight," He continued, "but you, Starscream, have no such luxury."

Oh joy.

They'd probably trial me first before deactivating me.

"If my prediction can be trusted," Megatron turned toward the mouth of the hole, "the Autobots will be here very soon."

As though taking that as a cue, the air rippled, currents disrupted by frames sneaking up around us. My wings flicked. Their tips bumped into the ceiling of our hiding place, and I flinched, cursing their inborn reflex to catch more information. Tiny disturbances fleeted through the cable cracks of the fallen wall. There were at least a dozen of ground pounders, surrounding us. They were big and heavy, military builds with added weight from their weapons. They were trying to be discreet, but they had no way of escaping my notice, not when they blocked the natural circulation of air.

"The Autobots are here." I whispered to Megatron, and the responding tilt of his helm told me he had yet noticed their arrival. I bit back a scathing comment about the inferiority of ground pounders, and waited with no small amount of anxiousness for the enemy to make their move. I was more than ready to get out of this stupid hole. I would much prefer facing a whole unit of Autobots than having to stay in a ditch.

"Decepticons, we have you surrounded." A voice called out. "Power down your weapons, and proceed out of your refuge with them in plain sight, barrels down. Any signs of hostility will result in deadly force."

Megatron leaned away. We shared a look. With more grace than I'd expected, the ex-gladiator backed out, and I shuffled after him, pushing upright as soon as I could.

Wings flicking in pleasure at being freed from the tiny hole, I ran a cycle of air through my system, and took a sweep around. There were fourteen Autobots altogether, weapons drawn and charged. They stood in a semi-circle, trapping Megatron and I against the side of a half-collapsed building. All of them wore scowls of disdain on their faceplates, except for a black and white mech. That one was odd. He had panels sticking out of his back. If I remembered correctly, "door wings" were specific to the natives of Praxus. However, this grounder did not look like he cared at all about the fire tearing his city apart, expression bare, calm, optics dim.

A direct contrast to the red one next to him, who was glaring at Megatron as though he wanted to shove his cannons double the size of his arms down the ex-miner's throat.

The red grounder caught me looking, and smirked, tilting to aim one of the cannons to my helm. I quirked a brow-ridge, and stared, unimpressed by his poor attempts at intimidating me. I had faced the barrel of the fusion cannon. There was nothing else that could possibly frighten me.

"Decepticons, state your designations." The black and white mech spoke. He was the one who had addressed us before we came out of hiding. My wings fluttered in annoyance at his words, and I made a face.

"You don't even know who we are?" I drawled before Megatron could answer, and sent the Praxian a haughty glare. "If you do not recognize us, then you are obviously not privileged to know of our designations."

Megatron's energy field flared against mine, undoubtedly irritated at how I acted out of my rank. However, he did not speak or move. He stood still, and watched the Autobots, posture as though facing an opponent in the arena.

"I repeat: state your designations, Decepticons." The black and white mech spoke again. His expression didn't change even a sliver. I sent him a pointed glance, and curled my lips into an amused smirk.

"No." I replied, leaning forward as I uttered the word.

"Designations, Decepticons. I will not ask again." He raised his blaster higher, but I did not give it a single flicker of optic.

"What do you plan to do if we don't, Autobot?" I crossed my arms over my canopy, and slid my peds apart, hips cocked to one side. "Shoot us?" My smirk spread into a grin, and I barked out a laugh. "Please, don't play us for fools. You obviously know who we are, which is why you are only waving your pesky little blasters as though they are worth a threat." I flipped a wrist in the air. "We know you can't harm us."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, you little glitch." The red grounder spat out, and his cannon churned with a low whirr. However, before it could form a blast, another voice interrupted, stopping him.

"Stand down, Ironhide."

The command was firm, but it carried no force. It came from behind the ring of Autobots, from a mech not yet in view. The voice was deep, and it held a warm, rumbling timber. It had the authority of a leader, controlled and unwavering, but it also sounded weary, if not a little unsure, as though the mech did not truly want to be here, in Praxus, in the middle of destruction and pit-fire. I did not have the time to dwell on my thoughts. Steady ped-falls at an even, measured pace announced the arrival the speaker, and the semi-circle of Autobots parted, shuffling aside, allowing him through.

The mech was tall, almost at the same height as Megatron. He was mostly blue and red, with white hips and pale thighs. His arms hung by his sides, one fist loose and the other around a blaster, which was pointed to the ground. His stance was strong, but not invasive. His entire demeanor lacked the hostility his subordinates reeked of, appearing curious, as he strolled forward until he strayed well into the reaching range of an attack.

I leaned back a little, and gave him a once-over, brows furrowed. Was he bold or just stupid? At this distance, Megatron could easily grab him by the faceplate and rip out his neck cables. Was this a challenge? Or an attempt at amicability? It was difficult to tell, as his faceplate was hidden behind a mask, features blocked from sight. However, his optics were bright and expressive, shining like blue beacons. They met Megatron's before falling to mine. There was an unreadable look in them, as if he recognized me, beyond just photo stills or video files from the channels.

But how?

I certainly didn't know who he was.

"Decepticon Commander Megatron, Crown Prince Starscream," He addressed us, catching our optics in turn, each time making a respectful nod. "You are now under Autobot custody. Please allow officer Prowl to relieve you of your weapons." He gestured to the black and white mech with the door wings. "I would like to avoid confrontation if possible."

I narrowed my optics at him, null rays activating with a quiet hum. The sound was buried under the noise of ongoing battle, and I sent the codes for my compact cannons to charge, preparing for a fight. My flight sensors turned up to top-level sensitivity, to monitor the Autobots' movement. Every mech was still, however. Even Praxian seemed to be waiting for something, despite having been ordered to retrieve our weapons.

By my peripheral, I kept a keen look on Megatron. He did not move. He did not speak. He only studied the Autobot before us, stance neutral, betraying no sign of submission or retaliation. His optics burned, as though he had noticed something I haven't. Fed up with the silence, I blew out a sigh, and broke it with a small, pondering hum.

"Our reputation precedes us, mighty leader." I relaxed my joints, and plastered on a smirk, the gesture a mere stretch of derma. "Perhaps this little Autobot is an avid admirer of ours." I teased, watching the blue and red mech with glimmering amusement.

"Why you—" The red one stepped forward, engine growling, but his superior stopped him with an outstretched arm.

"Please acknowledge my request," The facemasked Autobot dipped his helm once more, "And comply without trouble."

"I fail to see why I should acknowledge anything you say, ground pounder." My smirk fell, and I pinned the mech with a hard glare. "You have yet introduced yourself, and I do not like wasting my time with a stranger." I stretched my wings to their full span, and stood higher on my thrusters. "As you are aware, I am Crown to my people. My status requires appropriate conduct, which I expect you to follow accordingly."

The Autobot tilted his faceplate toward me. Once again, there was a strange glint in his optics, and I did not like that at all. I narrowed my gaze, lips curling into a scowl. He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts, and straightened on his peds, finally making an introduction:

"I am Optimus Prime, Commanding Officer of the Autobot Security Forces." He stated. "I apologize for my tardiness at introducing myself. I was surprised I have the chance to meet you so soon on the battle field."

A Prime.

He was a Prime.

The next Prime, to be exact, taking up the mantle after Sentinel.

So this was what Megatron had wanted to confirm.

I have always known it was only a matter of time before the next Prime came into existence, but I had not expected this grounder in front of my optics to be it. Optimus, as he was called, shared little with Sentinel aside from his title. I did not need to personally know either of them to tell how different they were from each other. Perhaps Optimus was still getting used to being prime, unfamiliar with his new responsibilities. He hasn't been Prime for long, after all, and Primus knew what the matrix actually did to a mech. The bot before me had an absentminded air about him. Maybe he was still overwhelmed. Becoming Prime in the middle of a war would be stressful and confusing for anyone, but I did not feel very sympathetic.

This was the enemy.

If Optimus was anything like Sentinel at all, Megatron could bring him down.

"Optimus Prime…" Megatron spoke up for the first time since our capture, rolling the designation on his glossa, tasting every syllable. He grinned at the Prime, the expression a malicious leer, obviously delighted at the arrival of an adequate foe. "I am pleased. The Autobots appear to have, at last, gained a commander of some gut, to stand before me without cower." His optics narrowed, sparks crackling around the edges of his vision. "I hope you are capable, that you can pose a threat. The war has been dull as of late," a deep snarl of words, "without any challenges for me and mine."

Optimus stared at my lord. "I am not looking to expand the fire of destruction by meeting you in equal force, Megatron." He replied, respectful but firm. "The Senate has their take on the war, and I have mine."

I frowned, and glanced at Megatron. The ex-gladiator must have shared my confusion, for his grin dropped, amusement bleeding from his energy field. Even the other Autobots were glancing at each other, uncomfortable with what their leader was saying.

"My wish is to protect the civilians, but I do not want to fight you." The Prime continued to speak, meeting Megatron's optics with a gentle, almost imploring gaze. "I have reviewed your cause, and I agree with many of your criticisms on the Senate system. You are correct. There are many faults to be found. Our current political establishment caters to few, and overlooks many, most of which you have gathered under your leadership.

"You guide your soldiers with promise of freedom. Freedom is what I hope to protect. I am more than willing to negotiate with you if you would only allow me." He took a step forward. "Violence is not the only option, Megatron. I do not wish to see any more lives senselessly lost in a struggle that can be resolved through pacifistic means." He shook his helm, optics open, unguarded, clear pools of blue. "Please, consider my request."

Optimus Prime was the complete opposite of Sentinel. That was for certain. Sentinel would not have hesitated for even a split klik to restrain Megatron and I before sending us on trial. He probably would have executed us on the spot if the Senate has given him the clearance. He would've never talked to us, especially not about freedom and peace.

This was what the matrix chose? What Primus chose?

Was Optimus a joke? Some kind of cosmic experiment?

"Let us observe what would happen should a mech who'd make a better clerk than a Prime come faceplate-to-faceplate with a violent, wrathful, spark-crushing ex-gladiator turned revolutionary".

That would make a lot more sense than this colourful grounder standing before us, beaming at my lord as though expecting him to just—…

…just…

Give up.

Megatron lost all traces of humour, expression a cold fortress. I could not tell what was going through his processors. However, I had a good guess that his thoughts were most definitely ones Optimus would not want to hear. I was fairly sure that Megatron was disappointed, though. As he had said so himself, he had been looking for an opponent worthy of challenge. Yet here that opponent was: looking at him and wanting sit down and have a chit-chat over a glass of chilled, refined energon.

"You say you have reviewed my cause," Megatron finally replied, a long, silent moment later, voice grainy with chips of ice, "But you understand nothing." His lips curled, slowly, stretching trenches of shadow into his derma as he continued, tone deceptively calm. "Violence has never been an option. It is a choice," He growled, a low, hissed timber, "A choice willingly taken. Choice, which had once been robbed from us, until we declared it no more a commodity of privilege, and wrangled it between our digits, into our grasp." His hand clenched into a tight fist, the fusion cannon activating with a hum of heat.

"…Those too blind to join my cause will perish. Those too weak to survive my war do not deserve to live." His red optics sweltered, their piercing resolve mirrored in his words. "There is nothing to negotiate between us." He stated. "I will not compromise. I will not submit. Cybertron will rebuild the way I deem fit. If you think me wrong," He stared at the Prime, "I will spare you the pleasure of a quick death."

Optimus Prime was silent for several long kliks. He looked surprised, perhaps even a little sickened by the brutality behind Megatron's words. Slowly, as though the meaning behind those words finally sank in, his gaze became withdrawn, almost reluctant to believe what he had heard.

"Then…you are a tyrant, Megatron," The Autobot leader whispered, "and there will be no freedom for your people." He spoke with pauses, as if the thought disappointed him, saddened him, optics dimming to a mere shimmer. "…There will be no peace for you."

Megatron remained firm, immovable.

"A short-sighted observation, Prime." His voice rumbled deep in his chassis, optics bright like suns, unyielding to any whim but their own.

"Peace through tyranny," He bit out, and smiled – a cruel smile. "That,' He said, "will be mine."

Megatron lunged.

The movement was a complete blur, and the next thing I knew, the Autobots were shouting, spitting curses as their Prime fell, clutching his left arm. The limb was hardly attached to the shoulder anymore, hanging by a few cables. Energon spurted like a fountain, and Optimus gritted a pained cry, optics widening as the bright barrel of the fusion cannon lit up his faceplate.

Gunfire erupted around us. Shots rained down from above, in all direction, targeting the Autobots. The fusion cannon fired. A cry of agony speared through the commotion. Optimus escaped deactivation with a massive hole in his abdomen. Megatron was grappling with the red mech with the cannons, snarling at the Prime to fight his own battles. I chose that moment of confusion to leap into the air, and transformed into jet-mode. I soared straight up into the sky, and swerved back with a flip, unleashing my own wave of blasts at the enemy below.

There were several units of Decepticons surrounding the proximity. One of them was Soundwave, who was ejecting his drones from his chassis. Two of such "drones" turned out to be the insufferable twins I had met once upon a misfortune in Kaon. The glitch-balls hackled before jumping onto an Autobot, and started tearing out cables and wires with sadistic glee.

Laser shots sailed over my wings, startling me out of my observations. I hissed out a curse. I was careless, and one of the shots had grazed my right wing tip, which left a persistent sting over my neural network. I growled, the sound lost under the screeching cry of my engine. Veering around in the air, I sought for the source of the attack, and rolled to the left to avoid another web of shots.

Autobot snipers, they were the ones targeting me. I spotted them, all five of them, dotted in high-rises a kilo-span away. With a boost of energy to my thrusters, I shot off, flipping in the air to avoid the laser fire flying toward me. As soon as I came within range, I aimed my null rays, and caught two of them right in the helm before diving down to elude collision, the belly of my alt-mode close enough to brush the outer wall of the building as I readied my next attack.

A booming blast struck the bottom of the structure. It began to crumble. Righting my nosecone, I saw Megatron, who was bringing down every building in range of his cannon, with the Autobots still in them. He wore a fresh coat of glowing energon, and I wondered which bots had the honour of becoming his victims this time around. I circled the building, mid-collapse, and found the snipers I'd hit. They were both dead. Snipers were not the sturdiest of mechs, hiding at safe distance to sneak a shot at an enemy.

The building groaned. Its struts buckled under the weight. I flew out of the way, and gave the area a quick scan before approaching Megatron, who was looking at me, fusion cannon swirling smoke at his side.

"You stole my kill." I snapped at him as soon as I came within audial range, and transformed to hover in the air. "I was planning on dealing with those snipers." I glared at my commander, arms crossed. "One of them grazed my wing." I flicked the said wing, which pinched in a prickling throb.

"There are more important matters at hand than your personal vendetta, Starscream." Megatron was obviously not in the mood for insubordinate behaviour. "You reported earlier that civilians have infiltrated the Helix Gardens, which means you have failed your mission. I do not understand your adamant obsession with a frivolous tent of glass, nor do I care, but I expect you to fulfill your duty. "

Irritation filled my spark chamber in an instance. I bristled, and sneered down at him, optics narrowing to slits. "If you had been listening to me, you would know that I already have a countermeasure to that minor setback."

"Starve them to deactivation? Don't joke with me." He scowled, lips curling. "We don't have time for such inanity." He turned around, and strode away, pedfalls dull thuds muffled by the puddles of energon. "The emergence of a new Prime seems to have inspired hope in the Autobots. We will annihilate that hope, crush their newfound spirit."

I tried to ignore the jabs he took at my plan, and floated after him.

"And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that, oh wise leader?" My voice dripped with snide, and my lord tossed a glare over his shoulder at me, fusion cannon strumming.

I pursed my lips, and my wings dipped.

"Take your fliers, and hunt down every civilian," Megatron instructed, helm returning to looking ahead, "Even those escaping the city, and the ones hiding in the Helix Gardens. No Praxian is to survive this night cycle – None," He stressed, "except for one."

I lifted a brow-ridge.

"Oh?"

The ex-gladiator stopped, and turned toward me. "You, Starscream, will personally select one mech to save." There was a smile on his faceplate, smeared with energon and caked in creases of shadow. "We need one spark left alive to recount the horrors of this battle, and I am entrusting you with choosing which spark it will be." The smile stretched wider, a benevolent gesture depraved on his lips. "Pick carefully, Crown Prince. He must to be strong, enough to withstand the massacre of his familiars with a coherent amount of sanity. He will have stories to tell." My commander lifted his chin, until he could look at me as though we were at level with each other. "Do not fail me this." He said. "I expect you to carry this out without fault."

"I never failed!" I protested, and sent a huff through my vents. "And if you think yourself so clever, how do you propose we deactivate the civilians hiding inside the Helix Gardens? We can't possibly shoot them down without damaging the dome and its contained artworks."

"You still hold reverence to indulgences of the Golden Age?" Megatron snarled, disgusted at my reluctance of harming the Helix Gardens. At the same moment, three Autobots charged out of an alley, running toward him with their blasters blazing. I shot down one of them, and he took care of the other two without a flicker of optic. "I gave you a chance," He spat out as he crushed the helm of the last Autobot. "I am not responsible for your failure at taking it."

"Stop calling me a failure!" I shouted. "If you ground pounders weren't so tenacious and overpopulated, my fliers wouldn't have had so much trouble getting rid of them!"

"I don't have time this." Megatron pinned me with a glare. "Your orders are simple: Keep one Praxian alive, and kill the others. I don't care how you do it, just that you accomplish what I've assigned you." He raised his right arm, and shot down another wave of incoming Autobots. "You are dismissed. Do not bother me with trivial status reports until the battle is over, understood?"

He did not even wait for me to answer before turning around, and I glared at his back, null rays itching to give him a nice set of round scorch marks for his crude, unpleasant attitude. I grudgingly thought better of it, however. I had no desire to ever experience flying away with the deadliest cannon in existence nipping at my tail fins.

Knowing a lost cause when I see one, I transformed, and took off, without acknowledgment to his dismissal. If he was going to be a rude slagger to me, fine. I'd just fail to regale him with a response.

Flying away, I heaved a deep sigh through my vents.

This was going to be a long night cycle.

---

Notes: Sorry for the lateness, but hopefully, the length of this chapter has made up for it, and also hopefully, I've managed to surprise you with the introduction of a very important character. ;)

Super big thanks to my wonderful, kind reviewers Emajade32439, Krazed Jetformer, Koluno1986, VyxenSkye, Ashcola17, TammyCat, Confuzzled-Neko, Devlinn Reiko, Cannonade, Eiswolf-Zero, caroline-decker, supergirl95, The-writing-Mew, prismadecepticons, april, tiedwithribbons, Khysani Myrical, DeceptivelyGood, silverflame, HI (Hi. Haha! ;p), starscreamgurl01, freaky friday, ladyredvelvet, packer1290, Random523, starscream fan, bannna, Rosedrop13, Kira michi, and starscreamfancypants. I wholeheartedly appreciate your feedback. It's amazing to think that you'd take the time out of your schedule to drop me even a few sweet words. Thank you! To signed reviewers, sorry I haven't been answering to your reviews. I plan on starting again with this chapter.

A quick Tumblr note! I did a drawing of Starscream from "Insatiable" AU, which I'd posted on my Tumblr. The URL to my page (username acteon-carolsfeld) is on my FF profile. Once you're on the page, simply click on the "Insatiable-Verse Reference" tab on the right-hand column. That will take you to a bunch of "Insatiable" related things, which include drawings of the characters. I also have an ask blog for the main cast, linked by a tab on my page as well. It has a bunch of silly little stories, so check it out if you get bored with waiting, haha!

Many thanks for your patience with this story! As usual, feedback would be awesome. I'm particularly curious about how the battle scenes read. I really hope they're still interesting.