[The Cyberverse continuity is the primary inspiration, with references made to the 2019 comic reboot and other sources of events, lore and characterisation.]

"How do you feel?" Megatron asks gently, cradling a dainty servo within his mighty palm.

"Mmm." Starscream smiles foggily up at him. "Better for seeing you." He giggle-snorts. "Handsome."

"…Shockwave."

"The effects of deep stasis may not have entirely worn off yet," he intones dully, in explanation. "His brain module shall return to normal functionality in–"

"I don't want to be normal! I want to be… enhanced!" A dramatic flair. A flinch. "Ow!"

"It is alright. Don't strain yourself so soon." Megatron patiently endures Starscream's efforts at touching his masculine, battle-scarred face plate, smiling ruggedly.

"You are… so big! So splendid! Kiss me, you – ow! I hurt?"

"Shockwave."

"No cause for concern. Some discomfort is to be expected as the sensors acclimatise to–"

"Am I beautiful?"

"Errm. I am not qualified to make that assessment."

"Tell me I'm beautiful, Megatron! I did it for you!"

"See for yourself," rumbles the retired gladiator, helping his Seeker sit up.

Within the reflection of a proffered holomirror, Starscream beholds his new facial rigging for the first time, optics bursting with awe.

"He's done a fine job of it, hasn't he."

"…Wow…"

Megatron gives Shockwave a nod. "Well done, talented surgeon."

"I am gorgeous!"

The featureless helm turns aside, almost modestly. "It was a simple procedure. I appreciated the practice."

"I wish to fly with my new wings!"

"Continue down this path, and you will prove an invaluable asset, worthy of great reward."

"Based on all probable outcomes, it is logical that I ingratiate myself within your favour." Shockwave busies himself at a terminal. "I intend to survive. Expect further successes in the future."

Megatron cradles Starscream, who is vainly delighting in his newfound shape. "That's the attitude I like."

"Do you ever feel like you're here, but you're not here?"

Nova Storm squints up at Clobber, processing her cumbersome words.

Thundercracker, however, cups his face plate with a shaky gasp of realisation. "Yes! All the time!"

"And does it feel like," Clobber continues on ponderously, reassured that she is not alone, "we're all stuck in some sorta… fake real stuff?" The hulking femme clutches a little cup of Energon to her chassis, optic wide.

"A simulation?" Nova Storm offers.

"Yeah! I think?"

Thundercracker gasps again, reeling. "I do feel that way! I just never put it into words before!"

"We gotta call our feeling something cool, otherwise we'll sound crazy."

"The Simulation Theory!"

"Perfect!"

Nova Storm looks between them. "That does sound cool, actually."

"I just hope this doesn't give me existential dread," Thundercracker bemoans.

"What's that?" asks Clobber.

"I dunno, I overheard Acid mention it to Thrust one time after a meeting with Captain Starscream. I think it's some sorta tank disease?"

"You're not a tank…" That singular optic narrows. "Are you?"

"No, I meant like a digestive–" Thundercracker pauses. Ponders. His optics are bulging. "Am I?" He clutches his helm. "Ahh…"

Clobber drops her cup, clutching her own helm. "Ahh…"

"First time?" offers Lockdown, returning with a fresh set of drinks.

Nova Storm gives him a look he recognises well.

"The things we do for love."

"You got that right."

They tap their overflowing cups together.

"You got a promotion!" Bumblebee slaps his palms over the counter in a neighbouring booth. "You're knocking Starscream outta his job!"

"Um, no."

"I can't wait to see his smug face!"

"Like I said, it's just a temporary assignment."

"No, it's a promotion!" Bumblebee punctuates this with a tap to Windblade's pauldron, garnering a gently reassuring smile from her. "'Cause the other Seekers won't want him back! Ha!"

Slipstream grimaces softly. Her responsibility for others aside, the prospect of being made Captain permanently is actually making her feel a bit indisposed.

Windblade has already determined that. She gives the bigger femme's servo a squeeze. "Hey, you're doing great. Don't worry about it."

Bumblebee means well and fully intends to say more about it, however Shadow Striker emerges from the periphery like a bad dream. "Whoa."

"Bee?"

"Oh, scrap," he murmurs. "She's that baddie from before."

Windblade and Slipstream turn together to look.

Shadow Striker saunters on in with sleek grace, movements unhurried, yet deliberate. Her modified scope scans the patrons and various furnishings, revolving in its socket and adjusting its zoom. Her unmodified optic gazes stoically ahead, fixed and determined. It is not disorienting to her.

"Oh, she's gorgeous," murmurs Windblade. "I was too distracted with Soundwave to have a better look at her, before."

"Great dancer, too," adds Slipstream.

"Wonder if she'll remember me," Bumblebee murmurs, tempted to wave. Curious if she will still notice him, if he does not.

Shadow Striker seems intent on pretending not to have seen his distinctive yellow, drifting past their booth without so much as a glance, when she suddenly stops. "Hey, scrub."

He perks, delighted. "Hi, tough guy! How's it going?"

She turns to smirk back at him from over a pauldron. "Fine, thanks. Yourself?" This is astonishingly cordial for her.

Windblade and Slipstream dare not interrupt.

"I'm great!" Bumblebee winks. "But, I never got your name."

Shadow Striker shrugs silkily, sauntering onwards. "You didn't ask." Thus they are dismissed. She is really impressive, and she knows it.

"How rude of me! One second, guys." He hops out of his seat and hurries after her.

Windblade and Slipstream share a look.

"We can't keep calling each other funny nicknames, huh?" The blaring holoscreen drowns Bumblebee out as he passes below it.

Shadow Striker settles with Maccadam at the bar. Her enhanced, fine-tuned audials are different from most.

"Lemme start us off. I'm Bumblebee!" He holds out a servo. "And you are…?"

"You really don't know."

"Uh, no? But I'd like to!"

"Shadow Striker," the ominous femme purrs back, all angular features and sleek combat armour and a cruel lens. She accepts his servo within hers, larger digits firm, but not painful, offering a proper shake. "Let me buy you a drink."

"Dude." His optics widen. "That is the coolest name ever. You can totally buy me a drink."

Maccadam does not intervene beyond pushing two full cups over.

"Thanks, Mac."

"Anytime, scout."

"Scout? Now that's a sweet nickname. I like it."

"Yes, and you shall certainly grow into it, my friend!"

"Looking forward to it!" Bumblebee grins at Shadow Striker, who is rubbing her angular chin. "Guy knows everything. It's like he can tell the future!"

"Huh. Your build would make for a decent scout."

"Yeah?"

She inclines her helm to him. She likes the size difference, in tandem with his courage. He really does something for her. "Hmm…"

"Hey, uh, since we've finally been introduced, you should totally meet my friends. They're super chill."

The lens flickers, befalling Windblade and Slipstream huddled like a couple in their booth from across the bar, holding servos. "They're cute."

"They sure are. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Might spoil their little date."

"They won't mind! They go on dates all the time. Sometimes, they take me along!"

"What do you think they're saying?" Slipstream asks Windblade, holding her servo without thinking about it.

"Ugh, I dunno! Why is this holoscreen so loud?"

"They haven't stopped looking my way since you came over," Shadow Striker remarks casually. Too casually. "Clever femmes. They seem scared of me. Of what I might do to you."

"What? No way!" Bumblebee playfully flicks her on the pauldron, reaching up to achieve it, failing entirely to recognise that he is being flirted with. "They're just impressed by your dance skills from before. We have gotta do that again sometime! Wow, I had no idea such a big warframe could be so, like… fluid!" It is clearly a compliment.

"And you keep your hip joints very well-lubricated." It is unmistakably a come-on.

Maccadam awkwardly clears his intake, shuffling off.

Bumblebee ticks. He blinks back his surprise. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Do you like it?"

His disbelieving smile turns decidedly flirtatious. "Maybe I do. But I gotta ask, when you danced with me, earlier, where were your optics straying…"

"Where a femme's gaze should be." Shadow Striker sips her drink. "You have a great aft."

"Okay, I'm just going to go get another batch of Energon out the back." Maccadam lumbers off.

"My, my!" Bumblebee fans himself. "You clearly don't waste any time."

Shadow Striker smirks.

He bites his lower derma, fluttering his optic shutters alluringly.

"…You busy, later?"

"…Nope."

She nods. "You won't ditch your friends for some fun, I'm guessing."

"Sorry, handsome." He puffs out his chassis. "I love my friends. We're hanging out right now, and I don't wanna cut that short."

"Very well." Her smirk deepens. "Bring them along."

His optical ridges arch.

"I admit, even for a filthy little grounder, I do prefer jets. Just like you do, clearly."

"That is… so disrespectful. And hot. Scrap. I'm conflicted!"

"Their wings are incredibly sensitive… I can subdue a Seeker in battle with just a squeeze." She demonstrates, crushing air within her fist. "Pain, or pleasure. The border between is nebulous at best, to me. I blur the line."

At this, his square mandible drops, cheeks flush with Energon. He has never been this aroused before.

Amused, she drags a digit up the cords of his throat, along his jawline and under his chin, neatly snapping his intake shut with an upwards flick.

Windblade and Slipstream collectively gasp.

Shadow Striker is about to say more when she pauses, helm tilted, gaze aside, steadily frowning. Apparently she is listening to something Bumblebee cannot hear. Most likely a private comm link.

He dumbly stares up at her.

"…Great." She sighs, straightening out. "Perfect timing. Just when I got my engine revved."

He is hot to the touch when she squeezes his pauldron. It makes him shudder.

"Sorry, Bumblebee. I gotta go do a thing."

He snaps out of the spell she had cast. "Aw, really?"

"Mmhm."

"That sucks! Hey, can I have your comm link? I'll call you! We can meet up when you're free, if you want?"

"When I want you, I'll find you." She turns and stalks away.

"That's… vaguely threatening." He watches her go. "And still super hot? Ugh, I gotta problem."

"Hey." She offers a nod to Windblade and Slipstream in passing. "How's it humming?"

They gawk.

Shadow Striker disappears with a chuckle, leaving Bumblebee with some explaining to do.

"Guys… I think she likes me."

The Simulation Theory was initially proposed by Nick Bostrom (I only make a cheeky reference for the fun of it).