This is where shit starts hitting the fan, for real. This chapter is rather huge, but important. Please enjoy it.
Possible trigger warnings: relationship and workplace toxicity, unhealthy power dynamics with predatory undertones, free will vs fate, brief descriptions of mechanised violence/gore, a lot of depression just everywhere and overall.
"Want me to intervene?"
"There is no need."
"You sure? Look, I know you told me to play nice with Scream's Seekers…"
Slipstream has fragged up, badly.
"And I meant it. I'll be gentle. Not even a scratch." Shadow Striker is designed to hunt. She has been modified to stalk. Her spying scope never blinks, never sleeps, and it reaches into the depths of the darkness to track Energon signatures. She can even see impressions of movement and heat through certain solid substances and she can decrypt the more commonly used cloaking tech. Her audials are potent, precise. She has seen everything. Heard everything. Her obsession with following Bumblebee around at a distance finally pays off tonight. "Promise."
"It matters not." Megatron's intake is full of writhing, moaning Starscream. "This merely accelerates our plans – I already know how Orion will respond, but I will keep him occupied, and he will be the one taken by surprise. Not I."
"And the airbase?"
"It will be vacated and scuttled in time. No trace. Nothing useful left behind." The retired gladiator utilises an internalised comm link and in doing so remains outwardly unspoken, allowing his glossa to be used for things other than speech. As an added benefit, he avoids alerting the Seeker Captain to this upsetting bit of bad news. "You have your orders. Do not wait for my signal. I expect to be met with comm scramblers and stasis cuffs. Strike when all Senators are gathered and seated. I will evade capture and reconvene with you, as soon as I am able."
"If you don't, Soundwave's on the rescue party."
"Correct. I do appreciate how you pay attention to the mission briefs."
"I'm not like these other chumps."
Starscream overloads again, blissfully ignorant, none the wiser.
Megatron swallows, like he was told to.
"I'm a professional."
"The cause is grateful to have your services. I have every confidence in your abilities to lead this mission, Shadow Striker."
"Thanks. You won't be disappointed."
"Remember." Megatron sighs as a shaky servo strokes his helm. "Keep one Senator alive and captured. Cull the rest. Let none stop you. Do not leave a trail."
"Understood."
"This is not wanton destruction. You will sow dismay and disorientation that day. Tomorrow, we make our message loud and clear."
Shadow Striker rolls her optic as Megatron goes on one of his inspirational rants again. It might inspire a rookie, but it is rather tedious to the professional.
"They will vilify us, at first. Liken us to criminals. Stay committed, and you will be hailed a hero, when the world regains its senses in time."
"Uh-huh."
"You will be rewarded handsomely for your strength, cunning, and resolve. Honour and the spoils of victory will be abundantly yours."
"Yeah, I'm happy just to get paid."
Megatron lets out an audible chuckle, muffled and wet. "Oh, I do like you."
"I'm easy to like." Shadow Striker zooms in on Orion Pax. Tunes her audial levels a little, to account for unwanted noise. Soundwave's offer to tinker with her audials is being considered in all seriousness.
Orion keeps a tidy, modest home. He welcomes the group of friends within the habitation suite, despite the unsociable hour of the night. It is clearly not a sociable occasion.
Slipstream proceeds to bare her sinful Spark. She tells him all she has to tell.
His expression is stoic the entire time, rarely and only modestly emotive. He looks disappointed, at most, yet unsurprised. Not even horrified. Like he always knew it to be possible, that this may come to pass, eventually.
Windblade refuses to let go. The grip has been a shackle, an anchor. She squeezes Slipstream's digits to convey silent reassurance, imprisoning her instead.
Bumblebee and Hot Rod keep sharing anxious glances.
Chromia only has optics for Windblade, resisting the urge to rescue her.
Slipstream suddenly stops talking, slumped, chewing her derma.
Orion affords them all a grave moment of silence afterward, allowing for himself the rumination he needs to respond. "…I understand."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you for reporting this to me." And then his gaze rises again. "I will see to Megatron myself. I will notify the authorities in preparation for his arrest."
"You can't just… tell him to stop, I suppose."
"He will listen to me. However, I cannot promise that my words will change his mind. I expect I will need to have him detained."
"I'm sorry. He was your friend."
"He was, yes. I am afraid that he may be too hurt, too angry, to be reasoned with at this stage. He is dedicated to changing the state of the world we live in. He has known too much cruelty and injustice. It has… distorted him, I fear. I do not know if I can still reach him. But I promise you, I will try."
"Please, Orion." Slipstream still cannot stop trembling. "He's got my Captain."
Windblade feels it, the tremor resonating via their shared touch. Tightens her grip a little further. Tries to still the trembling.
"Save Starscream."
Even Bumblebee flinches with something akin to pity.
"Spare my Seekers."
Orion lays his mighty servo upon Slipstream's trembling pauldron, stooping to draw their faces closer together. His expression is now paternal and soft, hers is transfixed with terror.
"Help me."
"I will do my best. I will confront Megatron, and I will have the authorities deal with Starscream."
"Thank you. Thank you! But please, don't let anyone hurt him, he's unwell, he needs help!"
"You are devoured with guilt."
"I'm… responsible."
More lowly, Orion then says, "Starscream's choices and actions are not your fault, with or without the influence of one as charismatic and powerful as Megatron." And the old mech sighs. "Do not blame yourself. The consequences of his behaviour are his own to bear. But I will put a good word forward, in your Captain's defence."
She almost sobs her gratitude and shame. She has not been released from her obligation to take care of others, but it feels so nice to have someone offer to help her share the burden.
Bidding one another goodnight, the friends finally step outside, and Orion is left to meditate on everything behind closed doors.
With a final admiration of Bumblebee's yellow from afar, in secret, Shadow Striker departs unnoticed. She has more pressing things to do. She has seen and heard enough. Tomorrow will be a trial by fire.
"Please stay," Windblade murmurs to fill the void. "I'll comfort you. I can keep you safe, here, with me."
"I wish I could stay. But I'm in charge." Slipstream's gaze is still so evasive. She still trembles. "I need to retrieve my Seekers."
"You mother them a lot," Bumblebee offers in an attempt at some levity.
"It's in my nature, I suppose."
"Then I'll go with you," says Windblade.
"Me too," adds Bumblebee.
Chromia inclines her helm with resignation.
Hot Rod smiles softly. "Aw."
"The airbase is restricted. Civilians are not permitted access."
"Let us at least see you to Mac's."
"If you're sure you want to. My Seekers might tease you for it."
"That's okay. We're your friends, Slip."
"Thank you."
The group splits in two after the hugs and goodnights have been dispensed. Hot Rod and Chromia walk away together, whereas Bumblebee and Windblade accompany Slipstream every step of the way back to the old oil house, where it all began for them.
Nova Storm has indulged in too much Engex and is singing with Lockdown.
Thundercracker giggles with Clobber. They do not know the words to sing along very well, but they occasionally contribute as best they can.
Thrust looks rather embarrassed, as does Dead End.
"Seekers." Slipstream hates to interrupt them. "Look alive." They are finally enjoying themselves again. It seems so normal.
"Captain! Heeeey!"
"Sir."
"Aw, we gotta go already?"
Nova Storm needs a pauldron to lean on. Her confident, casual, aimless saunter would be enough to make Windblade and Bumblebee flush, otherwise. Thundercracker would normally be that pauldron, but Slipstream steps into his usual place, propping up the femme he loves most of all.
"Thrust."
Being addressed with that husky, gently commanding undertone, he stands a little straighter. He is clearly the most sober of the three.
"You and Thunder return to base. Clean up and recharge. Nova is too far gone to fly. I'll walk her home and put her to berth myself."
"Alright, Captain."
"Roger that, Sir."
"I totally can fly!" Nova Storm winks at Windblade. "I'm pretty good at it, too! But Thrust's the best flier we've got. Don't tell him I told you, okay?"
"Okay. I won't."
Thrust flushes a little, tries not to smile as Windblade gives him a look. Fails. Smiles a little bit.
Slipstream offers the occupied booth a parting nod.
Clobber, Lockdown and Dead End raise their cups.
"Bye, guys!"
"We love ya!"
"Don't disappear like that again."
The Seekers leave the old oil house.
"Ooh, she's really cute, Slip."
"Nova, please behave."
Thundercracker frowns and suddenly offers Bumblebee a servo to shake. "Hey, um, sorry."
The shorter mech accepts it with a quirked optic ridge. "What for?"
"Y'know. Everything."
"Uh."
"We were jerks before. Calling you a grounder and stuff. We don't do that any more. And you seem pretty cool, I mean, Slip likes you, so… I wanted to make stuff right between us."
"Okay." Bumblebee smiles warmly. "I forgive you. We're cool."
Thundercracker smiles handsomely back. "Awesome."
"C'mon," grunts Thrust, rolling his optics. "We gotta go."
"Oh! Right. See you around?"
"See you around." Bumblebee salutes. Badly.
Thrust and Thundercracker answer that salute the proper way, then bow to Windblade in practised unison, which makes her laugh in spite of everything. The mechs then take off in their splendid fighter jet alt-modes, roaring into the velvet black, their outlines hazy against the flickering stars.
"Wow. They're really not so bad."
"Yeah. They're pretty okay, actually."
Slipstream watches her Seekers disappear. Her optics are full of affection, and anxiety.
"He's cute. Really yellow."
"Nova."
"Hey, I'd look good in yellow, right, Slip?"
"You would, but let's just focus on getting back home for now. Okay."
"Yeah! Okay! We'll get to talk. We don't talk enough, you and me, Captain."
"You're right. We don't."
"Which sucks because I love you and stuff."
"I love you, too."
"It's because she's terrified of femmes," Nova Storm informs Windblade and Bumblebee with a flop of the wrist straight out of Starscream's repertoire. "Even me! And we live together!"
"Shuddup," Slipstream grumbles, offering her pauldrons as support to the inebriated Seeker whilst turning to smile apologetically at her friends. "Windblade. Bee. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Slip," they chorus together, smiling their familiar smiles, tinged with sympathy.
"Thank you for everything."
"We're here for you, sweet Spark."
"Yeah. And before you go, it's huggin' time."
Slipstream manages a shy grin as Bumblebee strides over and embraces her about the torso. She strokes his back plates and nuzzles him atop his helm.
"Frag yeah." As a physical extension of the acting Captain in that moment, Nova Storm tipsily joins the hug, swamping the shorter mech between crushing Seeker frames. "He's so fun-sized, Slip."
"Thanks! I am a whole lotta fun you can just pick up and carry around."
"I like that."
"Nova. You're drunk."
Windblade holds back until the embrace ends. Only when Bumblebee has stepped aside, does she step into place. "May I?" A glance at Nova Storm, with a lopsided smile.
"You may." Slipstream flushes gorgeously. "If you want to?"
A slender servo captures her burning cheek. "I do." Blue optics dim with lust.
Nova Storm and Bumblebee arch their brows.
Slipstream, as the taller femme, is gently coaxed to stoop as Windblade stretches to close the gap between their intakes.
Nova Storm gawks at their kiss, to which Bumblebee sighs.
Mashing dermas provoke a spike in mutual bodily heat and humming machinery. Windblade utters that peculiar rumbling sound again and Slipstream's knee joints almost surrender to it.
"Whoa." Nova Storm revives, utterly delighted. "You didn't tell us you guys were a thing, Slip! How long?"
"Sorta just happened," supplies Bumblebee with a shrug. "But they did dance around each other for months."
"Oooh, get it, Captain!"
"She's getting it, alright."
Windblade eventually withdraws, prying herself away with a groan of effort. "Come back to me soon." She blasts hot air from her vents, stuttering, excited. "I'll be waiting."
Slipstream nods stupidly, optics fluttering online, face plate flushed with hastily pumped Energon. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
They wind up kissing again, but it is softer, it does not last as long. Parted intakes announce parted ways.
Goodbye.
Nova Storm lays a servo over her own chassis, sighing. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."
Slipstream tries not to look too overwhelmed. "Me, neither."
Windblade returns to Bumblebee.
He loops an arm around her.
She leans into his side.
Slipstream glances back at them, taking mere moments to recover herself, bolstering Nova Storm.
"She's a keeper, Captain."
"They both are."
Together, Windblade and Bumblebee wave Slipstream and Nova Storm off.
"Wow." A prolonged whistle through the vents. "She's a total baddie, though!"
"Yeah."
"So's he. He makes yellow work."
"They're both terribly beautiful."
"You got him, too? It is, like, a three-way sorta thing?"
"Nova!"
"That's really hot. Had no idea you were such a stud on your downtime, Sir."
"Primus. You're annoying when you drink."
"Pffft. You mean adorable."
Walking altogether to stay the course, Slipstream allows Nova Storm to ruffle her helm, sighing fondly.
"Attagirl!"
"I'm so glad you approve."
"Approve? Gimme pointers. I could learn a thing or two!"
"I think you're doing just fine."
"Thunder's all I need, true, but we've talked about getting us a third. Someone who's not a Seeker. For fun, y'know."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Life's all about experience, right? Gotta try new things. Good things. Never turn down a positive experience."
"You just might learn something."
"Or profit!"
"Ah, there you are."
"Here I am." Megatron stands before the terminal, in the process of a final data transfer prior to the wipe. "I'm surprised you can still walk."
Shockwave cannot be traced, but he can be trusted. He will have everything. The existence of Seekers kept contained, codified, encrypted. It also helps that he took Starscream apart and got a good look at his composition, and Acid Storm provides useful information as well, having always tinkered in their own presentation to suit their Spark, which never got to choose a body.
"Well, you did leave me in quite the state." Starscream settles beside the great mech, leaning companionably against Megatron. "I expected a cuddle after such a good fragging, by the way. Come back to berth. Work can wait for the morning."
"You shall not be left unsatisfied. Enter recharge without me. I will be but a few hours."
"You're such a tease! What're you up to that cannot wait a while, anyway?"
"Completing a few last-minute preparations prior to our departure. Orion called on me for a meeting tomorrow, as I knew he would, and I intend to leave nothing of value behind."
"That's rather sooner than we'd discussed. My Seekers still have some inventory to shift. We've not wiped the database."
"I will ensure they have helpers. I will erase everything, here and now. It's all according to plan. Just… a slight alteration."
"You say that, but I can sense your stress."
"You are a perceptive one. Unfortunately, recent events have necessitated greater expedience in the execution of our plan."
"What recent events?"
Megatron hesitates.
Starscream frowns. "Tell me."
"It is not easy for me to tell you."
"I demand to know. We don't keep secrets from each other, my love."
"Very well, then. But I ask you to control your temper and focus on our goal." The looming mech slowly turns his scuffed helm, gazing down upon his lover. "I need you, Star. I need you dedicated and focused. With me. We are so close. Tomorrow will be the sword."
"Of course, darling. I will not fail you. How could I?"
Megatron returns to his work. He deletes records upon records of Seeker history with a few command prompts. "We have a traitor."
A disgusted sneer. "Oh, joy. Do we know who?"
"One of your Seekers."
Starscream chokes on his own vents. "What."
"A Seeker has met with Orion this night as an informant, and disclosed my ultimate goal of conquest as well as revealed your involvement. Now we are both compromised."
"No…"
"Shadow Striker observed them. I am inclined to trust her, but I will obtain her sensory data as evidence."
"No!"
Sighing heavily, Megatron draws an arm about Starscream in consolation as he sputters and stares.
"B-but… I… She… No, no, no!"
"I leave the matter of Seeker discipline to you. Know that this brings me Sparkache, my love. I am fond of your troops. I did not think any one of them could do such a thing, certainly not on purpose."
"…Which o-one was it?" Starscream's vocal processor warbles. "Was it Thrust? He e-e-envies me, he always has. Ohh, he would stoop so low, sabotage!"
"Slipstream."
"…No."
Megatron inclines his helm. "I'm sorry, Star."
"There's been a m-mistake. Shadow Striker misunderstood, misreported it. There is simply no way…"
"Understandably, this is a lot for you to digest."
Starscream pulls himself aside. "Slipstream wouldn't do th-that."
Leaving Megatron behind, reaching for him. "Star–"
"She has not a single traitorous circuit in her whole body! She's too s-s-stupid and caring to betray me!"
"Star, listen."
"No! She loves me! We were forged on the same day! I've known her my entire life!"
"Please."
"I trust her implicitly, and I… I am not a fool! I will n-not be deceived! I will not be made the idiot, mocked and scorned! I am in command, I… I cannot even, right now! I cannot even!"
Megatron winces as Starscream storms out, kicking a nasty dent into a trash receptacle on the way.
"Fool, fool, f-fragging fool!"
"Star!"
The Captain rants and raves until the tremor leaves his vocal processor. "Thundercracker! Thrust! Inventory, now!"
They scramble to obey.
"Now, now, now!" A temper tantrum, as is the default when sass and intimidation tactics fail. "I want this place cleared out by morning!"
Morning is almost upon them.
So much for recharge. They will know no rest tonight.
Thankfully, reinforcements soon arrive, as promised. There is much movement by the time Slipstream drags Nova Storm within, discovering strangers throughout the airbase.
Starscream lives up to his name, shrieking orders at unimpressed mechs and femmes who work with the Seekers to empty out rooms, taking the barest minimum – all that is valuable and useful, leaving behind what is not. Personal effects, tragically, are not essentials. Relics of the lives that once called this home, will be left to gather dust, or to be seized.
"What's happening?" Nova Storm drawls confusedly, her foggy optics following roving frames lugging equipment. "Oh, hey, I know that guy."
"I'm not sure," Slipstream murmurs, tense. "C'mon." She drags the Seeker to her personal quarters.
"Shouldn't I be helping, or something?"
"You need to sleep this off." Slipstream finally puts Nova Storm to berth. "Take a detox in the morning, first thing. I'll check in on you."
"Okay. Love you, Slip."
"I love you too, super-Nova." The Seeker stoops, kissing the femme lightly upon her brow. "Recharge well."
Nova Storm is already lost in sleep mode.
Slipstream sighs and leaves quietly. She follows a moving frame. "Um, excuse me, could you report what's going on, here?"
The strange mech does not get a chance to explain.
"You."
Slipstream turns sharply.
Starscream looks aggrieved. His optics are wild, manic.
"Oh! Captain, Sir!" She salutes him.
He looks at her strangely. "You," he repeats, low and raspy. Menacing.
She feels her entire frame grow hot and tight.
"Is it true?"
"…Sir, I…"
"Tell me it's not."
Her mandible clenches handsomely.
"There has been an awful misunderstanding. Tell me that. It's what I want to hear. It's what I need you to say."
She bows her helm in defeat.
He drags a palm over the bottom half of his face plate. "No," comes out ever so quietly. "First, I gave Acid away. Now, I must reconsider you, as well. I do not want to believe it. I… I…"
"Please don't have me decommissioned, Sir."
He squeezes his optics shut.
"Please."
"Never."
She looks up.
"Never, ever, would I have suspected you."
"Let me explain."
"Of all my Seekers… I have depended on you the most intimately. I have given you more than any of the rest of them. Do you realise… how much I have trusted you?"
"Just listen to me!"
"You will hear me!"
Frames move around them, busy but curious.
"No, not you! Never you!" His optics open wide, burning. "You're the responsible one! You always took care of me! I have needed you!"
Thundercracker and Thrust share the burden of a storage crate. They linger on the periphery, staring.
"Starscream – Star – I am taking care of you! I did this because I'm responsible!"
"I trusted you with my life, Slipstream! And you! You, would do this, to me?! After everything!"
"Your trust was never misplaced!"
"No. No!"
She flinches when he lunges for her.
Thundercracker drops the storage crate, sprinting to intercept.
Thrust bellows as his own grip fails him and a corner of the crate lands upon his pede.
It is too little, too late.
Starscream seizes Slipstream, pulling her close enough that their vents intermingle hot, recycled air, pressing his face into her neck. His arms crush her.
Her frame creaks and warnings flicker upon her HUD, but she offers no struggle. Her servos settle upon his back, caressing him.
Thundercracker skids to a halt just short of touching them. Partially out of sheer shock that their Captain would willingly hug anyone, and partially because Slipstream gives Thundercracker a look that tells him not to interfere.
She shakes her helm slowly. She will accept her punishment, but she will speak up for them all. "It's madness, Star."
Starscream makes a whimpering noise, muffled by the burly cables of her neck.
"I'm so worried about you."
Thrust hops on over, grabbing Thundercracker and yanking him back. "Don't get involved, dumbaft!"
"What's happening?"
"Scrap if I know! C'mon!"
"No." Starscream pulls back and peers miserably, furiously at Slipstream, not quite seeing her, peering through her. His expression is somehow still so glorious, twisted as it is. "I trusted you. I… have such feelings for you…"
"I did it for you!" she yells into his face plate, hovering inches from hers, flushed. "Aren't you listening to me?! We can't keep doing this, Star! You've lost your fragging mind, and it's all because of him! He's ruining you, he's ruining us! I just want you back!"
Starscream opens and shuts his intake.
"I miss you."
"…Justify yourself before me…"
"Oh, Primus, Star!"
"…Slipstream, I order you… I command you…" His optics flicker. His gaze is imploring and furious and hurt. He refocuses on her, briefly, then fades again. "…Obey… me…"
"You've gone mad with his influence. He's twisted you. He's using you. You know me, Star. I would never, ever betray you. Definitely not without really, really good reason to make me."
"…It hurts…"
"I know, my love. It hurts me, too." Slipstream cups Starscream's face plate tenderly within her large, cumbersome servo. Her thumb caresses the twitch in his cheek.
He sniffles.
"It's gonna be okay."
He leans into her palm. Visibly gathers himself. Yanks his helm out of her grasp. "How dare you!"
She grunts as he shoves her, rather petulantly.
"You're just envious of me!"
"What? No! I don't want to be Captain, I'm not ambitious at all! I'm not a threat to you, Star!"
"Megatron understands me! He will restore our guild to glory, and I will command us! I will be the greatest Seeker of all! I will be instrumental to securing our future! We will rise again! Those who mocked us, who would consider us useless and stupid and unimportant, will be made to suffer! You'll thank me, then! Fool! Ungrateful, selfish fool! I do this for you!"
"Selfish?" Slipstream slumps. "For me? But it's always about you, isn't it, Star."
"Of course it is! I need this! I deserve it!" Starscream stamps his heel. "It is mine, mine, mine!"
"We're all going to follow you, marching to his war," she snarls back huskily, "where he'll make us fight his battles, and some of us will probably die, but soldiers must make sacrifices, right? You can spare a few Seekers, soon as you've got Shockwave and Acid mass-producing us again. Our lives won't matter, then. Disposable, replaceable. And you'll get to be in charge of all that. Maybe you'll have stories told about you for millions of years even when you're gone. That's the future you want for us."
"Stop. Talking."
"Did Jetfire's parting words mean nothing? Have you forgotten all he said to us?"
The Captain stares at his Seeker. Twitching.
"We were never pawns to him. He wanted to disband us. Remember that? So we'd never be forced to fight someone else's war ever again. It traumatised him so bad he quit."
"You dare say his name."
"But you… You begged him not to. Begged him to let you lead. Promised you'd guide us well, and that we'd be ceremonial reminders of the past. And you didn't lie at the time. You were true to your word, for a long, long time."
Starscream's armoured plating creaks with the force of Slipstream's grip as she grabs his hips, threatening to leave dents.
"You've forgotten yourself. You weren't always like this. Eccentric and abrasive, sure, but never… like this. It's Megatron. He did this to you, whatever it is. And I'm gonna help you, even if it gets me decommissioned. Because I love you."
"Shut up."
"I refuse, Star. I cannot command you, I am forbidden from reasoning with you, so what else could I do!"
"You shut up and do you job!"
"I did what I had to, if it meant I could save you from yourself." Slipstream rests her helm into the crook of Starscream's neck, now. "Please. Come back to me, Star. Stop him. Save us."
Starscream's Spark leaps within its chamber. But his brain module burns. His feelings and his thoughts twist altogether into an unrecognisable, unintelligible storm. It is terrifying and it hurts. "No, no, no."
"I am sorry. But I had to."
"You broke something within me."
"I don't mean to wound you, Star." She has a very big, strong voice. She is a very big, strong femme. She could do him considerable harm. She already has. "I don't care if I'm a weapon, and I was forged for war. I'm a femme, too, and I have needs, Star. Thoughts and feelings and friends, finally, and… I didn't even know how starved I was for affection, for something domestic and blissful, until I met them. So, yeah. Maybe I am selfish. I'm responsible, and I could lose so much more than just you, and our Seekers, if we do go to war. Innocent people will be hurt." Slipstream eases back again. "Do you want that on your conscience, Star?"
The Captain sinks against the Seeker.
"I know you've been lonely and sore for so, so long. I know your unhappiness eats away at you all the time. I know we Seekers can't fix you. Nobody could help. Megatron knows it, too. Maybe he really does care for you, and his empathy is real. You deserve to be happy, Star. But is this really the only way forward?"
Faced with the prospect of self-reflection and finding flaws and sins and terrible mistakes, Starscream digs through the inferno and snatches a thread inside of himself that he can recognise, and when he finds it tolerable, he seizes it with everything he has. "…Slipstream." Calm. Eerily calm.
"Starscream?"
"I am very disappointed in you."
"I know."
"You disobeyed me."
"I did."
"You sold us out to the enemy."
"I'm sorry."
"You intended to lie to my face, to all of us."
"Only to protect you. Protect them."
"You tried to derail my dreams."
"His dreams."
"Traitor."
"It's not too late to change your mind."
"Ah, but I pity you. Your world is small, unimaginative, mundane. You only say these things because you are too simple-minded to understand the plans I have for you. You do not understand yet, but I will prove my worth to you."
"You don't need to do that. I already love you as you are. I follow you. Not him."
"Hush, my dear." Starscream pushes Slipstream away. "I am saving us. Oh, you poor, confused thing. You'll see. Everyone will see… me. We Seekers will rule the skies, our numbers in the millions and more, and I, the most resplendent, will have all I deserve. Power. Privilege. Pleasure."
"Please, just–"
"Oh. And you're being reassigned, by the way."
There is a terrible pause.
She stares at him. "Reassigned."
"Yes." He offers her his servo, casual and friendly.
She stupidly takes it without hesitation, trusting him as she is programmed to do. Resisting one's programming is difficult. It requires great willpower, a strength of personality. The Spark, in defiance of the linked brain module.
"Consider this an opportunity to meditate on just how good you had it with us. On how you ruined everything."
She sighs at length, without further fight left in her. "Is this reassignment… permanent?"
"No. And it is better than decommissioning you, is it not? I will take you back, because I am your Captain, and you are my Seeker. Always."
"Thank you."
"See, I am merciful, even to a traitor." He plays familiarly with her digits, smiling lopsidedly at her, his optics wild and seared over. "Perhaps some time spent in drudgery will grant you the clarity to appreciate what I can give, and take away, as I choose."
"I will do my best, to fulfil whatever station assigned to me."
"Of course you will." Suddenly, he drops her servo, smile gone. "You'll receive the details of your new position shortly. I'm thinking that since Shadow Striker was the one to keep an optic on you, tonight, she ought to find plenty of satisfaction in seeing you squirm, tomorrow. She is deeply unpleasant, that one."
Slipstream winces.
"In the meantime, help them pack." Starscream turns and stalks off. "We're moving out."
"…Yes, Sir."
"Are you certain you wish to witness this?"
"I'm your friend, Orion. Lemme be here for you."
"Thank you, Bumblebee."
The mechs greet the morning.
"We've got a little time before the meeting starts, right?"
"Indeed, we do."
"How about some wheel-nuts with sprinkles?"
Orion rumbles with soft laughter, laying a servo upon Bumblebee's pauldron. "My friend, you do have the brightest ideas, at the best of times."
"I know, right! C'mon, I'm buying."
Starscream seems totally fine. His capacity to bounce back is marvellous, and useful. He did not recharge a wink, and yet he has boundless energy. His self-confidence is staggering, seductive. He is manic, yet generally focused.
Megatron tries not to worry.
"Remember, darling. We've come prepared for this."
"Always one step ahead."
"Exactly." The Captain saunters into the lift. He smiles up at the old gladiator, invitingly. "Come along, dear. Today's the big day. Just this little hurdle, and then we're breaking through. Exciting!"
Megatron sighs quietly to himself, bolsters his courage with a squaring of his broad pauldrons, then strides within the lift, thus sharing the enclosed space with Starscream.
"Where to?"
A massive digit trembles as it presses a button on the interface panel, causing the doors to seal their fate, beginning their gentle ascent.
"I know you dislike heights," comes out conversationally. "Why does Orion insist on tall places?"
"Indeed. I have wondered that myself."
"You're quite safe."
"I know." Searing optics watch the world beyond the gleaming tube.
A fall like this would be fatal to most.
"Hmm." Arms folded across a shapely chassis, Starscream leans back against the curve of a glossy, crystalline wall with an easygoing tilt of his helm. "But don't forget," he continues on with a wink, "you won't be facing Orion alone this time, or the heights."
"For you are with me."
"In this arena, and the next, and so on."
"You're so good to me, Star."
"I try! I'm sure my upgraded thrusters are powerful enough to catch you, should you fall, and if Orion even thinks of mistreating you in any way, I'll–"
Megatron suddenly seizes Starscream by the neck, stooping to kiss the mech deeply and fiercely and territorially enough to have him mewling, dainty servos pawing stupidly at gunmetal grey, leaving fine scratches behind.
"Mmmmhmmph!"
The lift soon draws to a slow stop. A friendly, feminine pre-recorded voice announces that the desired floor as been reached moments before the gleaming doors slide open. A little ding of the bell encourages a prompt exit.
The mechs pry apart and attempt to compose themselves.
"You'll be on your knees for me by today's end, Megatron, dear. You owe me for that."
"Of course. Anything for you, my shining Star."
They join servos and walk side-by-side.
The arrow is almost silent.
The security mech collapses and drops like a stone.
Shadow Striker's optic ridges rise.
"Okay," Flamewar purrs to herself. "Too close to the Spark chamber. Out of practice. It's okay."
He is dragged neatly out of sight.
"Try again."
Another security mech is downed almost without sound, mid-step, and quickly removed.
"Better." Trembling with excitement, yet patiently rooted to her spot, she manages to obscure herself with a mirrored cloaking implant.
Who is she, Shadow Striker wonders. Not an amateur, and not known in mercenary circles. An assassin, perhaps.
Flamewar begged to come along and showed her compound bow much the same way a hopeful job applicant presents their credentials to get hired. And it worked.
Shadow Striker adored that weapon instantly. It is so archaic and ridiculous and beautifully lethal, how could she refuse? She can see the archer just fine, despite the cloak. The charged rifle the mercenary favours is a familiar and comforting weight, dependable, trusted. But she was intrigued by the two-wheeler from the moment they first met, delighting sullenly in the absurdity of a feisty little femme like Flamewar wielding a compound bow almost as long as she is tall. For Shadow Striker, that alone sealed the deal.
"Time to equalise. All the same."
Another security mech is downed, none the wiser. He vanishes, dragged out of sight, paralysed or offline.
And by Primus, Shadow Striker must admit, Flamewar knows how to use it. It is not just a fashion statement, it is not a mere threat, it is not only for show. It kind of kicks aft, this experience – just getting to watch her work.
The Senators take their seats. Shuffling, gleaming shells of mechs and femmes, hollowed out and pampered.
Flamewar fragging hates them.
Shadow Striker just wants to get paid. "Slipstream," she grunts into the comms, with Shockwave's layers of added security for privacy, "are the charges set?"
"Last one… set." Simple instructions, for a simple Seeker, dishonoured. Slipstream really hates her job. "Trigger's ready."
"Good. Get out of the way. Stealthily, remember."
"Yes, Sir." To her credit, she is being especially politely agreeable and obedient. Starscream must have torn her a new waste port.
Shadow Striker smiles grimly at that. She will take good care of this adorable, dumbaft little Seeker, forged too sweet for such a life.
"What is he doing here?" Starscream demands to know with a glower of utter loathing directed scathingly at Bumblebee. "The little grounder is utterly irrelevant! I insist that he be thrown out immediately!"
"Right back at you, jet," replies the gutsy yellow mech with a huff, setting his palms on his hips before poking out his glossa at the affronted Seeker Captain. "Oh, and your boyfriend's a grounder, too, by the way."
"Why, you–"
Megatron holds up a commanding servo, silencing Starscream without a glance, ignoring Bumblebee entirely, optics fixed only on Orion.
"Thank you for agreeing to attend this meeting," intones the former archivist in his calm cadence. But there is something about his posture that is different, this time.
"It is fine," rumbles the retired gladiator, especially stoic and guarded. "I sensed its import. Let us begin."
"Indeed. Please, be seated."
"I opt to stand."
"Very well, then."
Bumblebee narrows his optics at Starscream, who sneers superiorly back. Frustratingly, the rebuilt flier is utterly gorgeous, easily desirable even when he pulls such a cruel facial expression, an outward reflection of his inner ugliness.
"I understand that you intend to mobilise against the Senate. That you are prepared to do so soon. That you are willing, and able, to use force."
"You are accusing me of treachery. Treason."
"Is it true?"
Megatron leans in, peering closely at Orion. "What do you think?"
The former archivist does not so much a flicker.
The retired gladiator inclines his helm a little to the left, leaning over the long table to bear down on his closest friend.
"I did not – I do not wish to believe it."
"Oh. Of course not. You have always given me the benefit of the doubt. I am so problematic."
"Please, do not jest. Our prior discourse indicated that your intentions could turn to acts of violence, and your influence has inspired violence in others. I warned you, as you will recall. You walk a doomed path."
"You did tell me. I am not as anxious as you. I will give my all, to save you."
"This is not salvation."
"You do not see it, now, but you will. Inevitably. All will see."
"You are deluded, old friend."
"Mmhm."
"Distorted by your own suffering. You had such nobility. I fell in love with you because of it."
Megatron softens by a fraction. "Do you… no longer see it? My inward nobility."
"I know the good that is within you. I appeal to you, again."
A battle-scared countenance flinches.
Orion's optics are begging.
Bumblebee watches Starscream squirm. Relishing in it.
"I want only what is best for you." Orion sighs heavily. "I have only desired to see you at your best. This… is not what I intended, for you. This is not the way."
Megatron exhales hard from his vents, his cheek quivering with emotion he is barely containing.
"You cannot do this, old friend," pleads the former archivist, reaching for the retired gladiator's scuffed servo. "Please. Do not do this."
"…I'm sorry."
"Old friend."
"I regret that you will be wounded. But I promise you, it will be to your benefit, it time. I do this for you."
"So it is true. You really are going through with it."
"I must. Your efforts at persuading me otherwise are futile. But the fact that you are still trying… I propose a counter-offer. Perhaps I was too emotional, before. I am calmer, now."
"No. Please, no."
Megatron kisses Orion's servo.
Starscream looks away, grinding his dentas.
Bumblebee huffs.
"Join me. We can still be one. I know I told you, that we must part ways, before. I was… speaking out of a place of fear."
"You fear nothing."
"That is untrue." Megatron gazes upon Orion, stroking his digits intimately. "My history as an entertainer is violent. Of course I am fit for no better. Violence begot my freedom. It will free others in my stead. This generates fear, and awe. I know this."
"Never. You will fail."
"Do not be a fool, old friend. I know it. It is true. My Spark still dwells in the arena. My thoughts are weapons. I am charismatic enough to instil violence in the Sparks of the miserable masses, because they know my pain. I speak for them, the silenced, the ignored. So many have suffered. I owe them salvation. I fear letting them wither away. And I fear losing you."
"Then come back to me," Orion pleads, squeezing Megatron's digits.
"Your way is tedium and throttled with waste of time, designed to inconvenience the common mech and femme, for the benefit of the power structures already firmly established to lord over us. We wait not for blessings and grace from the higher powers, should they feel generous at any given time. We will take it for ourselves and make it our own."
"You will bring destruction!"
"Yes, I intend to destroy every skewed system our masters put in place." Megatron drops Orion's servo, stepping away, returning to Starscream's side. "And I will destroy the oppressors. They cannot be left to rebuild. They will go back to their parasitic ways eventually. It is inevitable."
Bumblebee and Starscream no longer look at one another. Their optics are on Orion and Megatron.
"I only wish you could see things as I do. This is necessary."
"It will be your downfall! It is a tragedy to even consider it. Throughout history, many great mechs and femmes have fallen to–"
"Ugh. Not this lecture, again."
"Innocents will be harmed!"
"Casualties are to be expected. It is for the greater good. I want you to accept that. I do this for you, for us, for everyone. And yes, I have given it some thought, since the Senate last spurned me for your speech. I was emotional, then. I lashed out. But I implore you, now, in calm, collected in my senses and resolved in what I shall soon do."
"Megatron."
"Join me.
"I cannot!"
"Perhaps in time, you will give it some thought as well, Orion. Reconsider this."
"It is you who has been misled."
"Disappointing. But I meant what I just said. I am not angry at you, old friend. Perhaps you do not see it yet, but in time you may be persuaded, yourself." Megatron rubs his brows, straightening his back. "We will be forced to go our separate ways, but let me keep that door open to you. You need only keep an open mind and–"
"Never!"
"Never, Orion?"
"Never, Megatron." The former archivist rises from his chair with a grimace, optics burning. "Not so long as you walk this path. I cannot follow."
"Then stay away."
"I will not do that."
The retired gladiator inclines his helm grimly. "Then oppose me."
Orion trembles like he has not trembled before.
Bumblebee is frightened just because of it.
"That is the tragedy I fear the most. I am truly sorry, if it must come to that. But I owe this world my life. And in my Spark, I will leave a place for you, the great mech you always were to me."
Orion stares Megatron down.
"Do you intend to do something about it, here and now, my friend? Or are we finished?"
"I am sorry, too. I hope you can forgive me, eventually."
"Likewise. Enough talk, then." Megatron goes to release the doors. "Star, come."
"Yes, my–"
The doors slide apart. Prowl, Strongarm and other police officers bar the way in bulky frames of blue and white.
Starscream sneers. "Oh, joy. He really went to the cops."
"We've got a confession of future intent on record," Prowl intones brusquely. "It's over."
Megatron is about to reply.
There is a terrible, echoing boom, in the near distance.
They all turn their helms and stare at a column of fire.
"Primus!"
Megatron smiles aside, at Starscream, who smirks back.
"The Grand Imperium," Orion gasps, throwing back his chair, pressing his face plate to the crystalline window. "No!"
"Fewer parasites, leeching off the world."
Bumblebee shudders, cupping his face plate in horror beside Orion.
"You hoped to trick me. An ambush. Well."
"Megatron, what have you done?"
"This is goodbye, for now."
"Enough." Prowl steps forward. "Come quietly." Stasis cuffs ready. "Servos up."
Strongarm and her fellow officers form a wall of living metal, drawing closer, imposing.
"I won't be surrendering." Megatron looks to Starscream. "Will you, dear?"
"Of course not, my love."
"With me, then."
"With you."
They smile at each other.
Prowl seizes Megatron. Grossly unprepared.
Orion and Bumblebee share an expression of horror.
In an instant, Prowl falls back into Strongarm's chassis. Her superior officer suddenly has a fist-sized crater where his breastplate once was, crumpled gruesomely inwards, buckling upon his Spark chamber.
Reflexively, everyone takes a step back.
"Get down!"
Megatron kneels, covering his helm.
A flurry of missiles fire outwards from Starscream with that raspy cackle that makes him sound mad. The windows shatter from the force that sends frames tumbling, furniture overturned, scattering shimmering crystalline shards into the gaps between armoured plates.
Orion shelters Bumblebee bodily.
Megatron withstands the blast on his own.
"Here!"
He rises again. Turns toward the voice.
"Come to me!" Starscream hovers in place, servos outstretched.
It is a long way down.
As Orion helps Bumblebee stand, so Megatron swallows his discomfort for heights.
"I've got you!"
"I know." He steps into nothingness, tips forward, and almost yells as he falls into his lover's embrace.
Orion and Bumblebee sprint for the open space, stopping short of falling.
Starscream was right about his thrusters, as it turns out.
Megatron hides his face plate reflexively, buried in a burning chassis, and allows himself to be rescued by a considerably slighter mech. It could be very romantic if he were not genuinely uncomfortable.
