Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own Transformers. I just like hounding their giant robots.
Warnings: A quick update I may tweak later. Builds on "Cybertronian stories are literal cautionary tales" thing from Rescue Bots, etc
Lemniscate
or
How The Past Mends And Repeats Itself
Brussel decided Cybertron's people were delightfully strange. They turned into transportation and had the kibble to prove it. This group was different than he'd been led to believe. They were outliers of their kind in the figurative sense.
The Ark's temporary command was competent enough.
Brussel remembered the Dread's closer operatives. Lockdown and Oil Slick were familiar. Arcee was new and a Terrorcon. This disturbing fact was not news to the mismatched team, who seemed unbothered. Brussel had never seen one in person. She didn't look like a shambling harbinger of doom. The femme was glaring at Lockdown like that, though.
The others were interesting, to say the least. To hear other Predas recollect Cybertronians sounded like monster stories. They were creatures brimming with weaponry and plagues. Excluding the big Seeker, these were young and skittish.
It was an intelligent reaction. They were outnumbered, after all.
One of the twin warriors, the red one, kept his helm on a swivel, much like his visored companion.
The other half of the warrior set stood beside a bedraggled Praxian. Brussel could hear both of their systems getting used to activity again.
The black and gold mech didn't look healed. Parts of his frame were patchy while they regained their nanites. It was odd for a vehicle-mode to have the beginnings of beast stripes.
He should have been back inside.
The smaller Autobot, half-Praxian Brussel assumed, kept optics on Scourge. He needed to pay more attention to the Decepticon scout, who was reading his back like a datapad and taking notes.
Daihatsu's sparklings he empathized with. Brussel had seen the spiner's adaptations and knew what Voltage was capable of. Those were artificially enhanced abilities that classed a 'former as a weapon.
Watching two formers trying so hard to imitate standard ones was painful. It was in their species' nature, after all.
Voltage played at integrating into factions to hide her physical shortcomings. Whatever went, she was willing to go along with it. 'Nia hadn't helped matters, only encouraged the behavior. Cieve had been more of a guardian than the arachnid. But Brussel kept his opinions to himself. A grievance that deep meant a fight, and he didn't much like fighting spiders.
Or scientists.
Cypress had only just learned how to mimic 'formers, not organics. The Preda wolf's systems caught him off guard on the beach. She gave off the jarring impression of something that routinely forgot what species it was. Something broken. The other 'formers had gotten used to it—especially the yellow one.
Their group was an oddity, one the Decepticons were okay with stranding in Eukarian territory.
The law about vehicle modes was absolute for everyone's safety. The last attempt had gone badly and was now in flames. It had stood as a quiet memorial and warning. Even the Quintesson locked in its bowels had a purpose. Sometimes, it is better to be apart.
That was until these people leveled the facility.
Brussel couldn't gauge Scourge all the time, as he shouldn't. Judging by their previous conversations, there was no reason to slaughter a whole team and cause more of an incident. The facility wasn't the issue. No one wanted to reopen it after the disaster the last joint operation had been.
But that operation had been under a previous Predaking.
Scourge had a deep interest in the world beyond Eukaris. It was only stoked by their recent Decepticon allies…and one interloper. The vehicle-mode's war was in a stalemate, and Scourge intended to get closer to who he considered the winners–if there could be such a thing with a dead planet involved.
Scourge straightened, watching the skies, "Weather is clearing. I hope you'll have safe travels."
The Predaking made no move to leave. Lockdown held his glare.
Then the red warrior yelped, followed by a sparkling's giggle.
Holt curled around his wheels, settling his bumpy frame against the vehicle mode.
Lockdown glanced back briefly, "Sending out sparklings as distractions?"
"They must be taught young."
Brussel watched him toddle toward Barricade. As expected, the Preda wolf scooped him up.
"He's a little unstable, buddy. Don't go over there."
Holt did not speak Cy-Stan yet.
Brussel hopped over, motioning Cypress to all fours.
"It's a long walk back. Could you carry him?"
Now, the crew looked nervous. The one called Jazz sized Brussel up, finally nodding. Vehicle-modes never feared what they considered a prey build.
Bumblebee split off from his fellows, dropping into a passable felid mode.
It's not ideal, but Brussel didn't mind an extra 'former. Brussel began to doubt his Predaking's strategy when the Decepticon scout followed behind them.
Cypress held the sparkling by the top of his plated back, "Ready."
Coding puts sparklings on a high priority, and you can't attack with your mouth full.
Holt kept quiet, and his ventilation was shallow as one does while being carried by a venomous creature.
Brussel took the long way on purpose to a temporary base. It was a home away from home, with open-air plazas and new structures compared to Eukaris' buildings. 'Formers, both visiting and residents, went about daily life. He didn't miss the confused Preda stopping to watch her fellows. She blended in.
The vehicle-modes did not, and they were causing a minor stir. That was the point.
Brussel stopped before a central building and led them down a sheltered alleyway. It opened into an expansive courtyard hemmed by ancient trees. "We're here."
Holt scampered off after being put down.
"Nice place," Bumblebee offered, reverting to his original mode.
Brussel kept to his alt, "It's a temporary base while we're here."
"Why would you bring a sparkling to a potential battle? You don't know us." Cypress trailed off.
"To show off, duh," Barricade said. "We can't fight back; they want to rub our faces in it. It's a classic power display. Didn't your guardian bring you on routine missions?"
"Not ones this dangerous …"
"I can assure you, it's safe. It's also a good learning experience, and we don't get visitors often."
Holt returned in bipedal mode with four other sparklings behind him. They paused, waiting for permission to continue.
Brussel nodded, giving Eukaris' future warriors the experience of meeting different frame types.
The Decepticon hissed and stayed in his alt.
"Would you like to stay for a story?"
Barricade hissed louder. The little ones quickly imitated the rasping noise.
"Can I go? I'd rather get impaled again."
He changed his tune as another patrol moved through the treeline, shaking the foliage.
Cypress curled up, letting the one femme perch on her helm. Another was attempting to remove the Autobot scout's shoulder insignia. By ignoring them, Barricade became more popular.
"Are they normally this small?"
Brussel eyed the preda wolf, a bit of empathy tugging at him, "Yes."
He doubted any of these newly adult 'formers had seen many sparklings.
"They're still in their first frames."
The sparklings were still excited after seeing "Primacron's others". Brussel let them bask in their discovery. He settled into a loaf, aiming to calm them before their parents came for them this evening.
"Would you like a story?" he called out in Predus.
That made them huddle together and quiet down faster than any digital program. Brussel had a gift for storytelling, after all.
"Long ago, when the universe was new, and Cybertron's core bled new life, there was great trouble. A new type of creature appeared on Cybertron's surface: a great evil. These others landed and saw our kind was useful for labor and spare parts. They sought to capture, kill, and conquer Cybertron. With their horrible tendrils, they ripped apart homes and ensnared many."
Brussel paused for effect, eyeing his captive audience with his vibrant coral optics.
"There were too many and Cybertron's people too scattered by fear and suspicion of their own. The thirteen groups met to share their woe and perhaps devise a solution. Beast-mode and vehicle-mode. Titan and minibot. Flier, Pretender, and those builds long extinct. They spoke with the guardians of Cybertron, the Dread. Until Cybertron itself offered a solution."
Brussel made a fearsome face, "The last build. The Terrorcon. All the fear and might of their siblings combined, bound to destroy evil ones and return them to refuse. But forced to live apart from their fellows because of their monstrosity."
"It was agreed to accept the newcomers for a time. The fighting did not go well initially because they were not unified. After one fight, a Terrorcon found themselves alone, though sitting with others discarded by their fellows. Even though things were new, this is where our old troubles we have now began. Forced apart, they were alone together. Separated from their fellows, they grew close and made their own family.
You know how it ended, sparklings, the evil was vanquished. All went back as it should have been. The band of misfits did not part, however. Yes, they had to separate occasionally because no two should be bound without freedom. So they made a pact and tied themselves forever.
I always knew you'd be the death of me,
Ancient enemy, fallen ally, bane of my elders,
We were destined to die locked in combat,
Now we leave bound,
In spark, in blood, in likeness,
Through many deaths, we achieve new life,
Be the blade at my side, the shelter in crisis, the warmth of the lost,
Sparks in kind, until dull
Some say they became members of the Dread.
Others say they lived long lives and passed the coding of their pact on to their fellows.
Still, others say a cyclops accidentally recreated the pact before Cybertron was lost.
Time goes on, and things are lost, unfortunately.
This is not the whole story that has been lost, but the frame remembers and carries it onward."
~o~o~o~o~o~
Cypress assumed the story was highly intentional, like a brick through stained glass. Judging from the unease over the bond, the team had been paying attention.
Prowl nudged her, ~ Leave. Get back over here. I don't like that Brussel knows so much. ~
~ OK, give me a klik. ~
Barricademanaged to fall asleep in alt, but with one servo clamped around Bumblebee's ankle.
Bee started nudging the sparklings back to their room and away from them.
It wasn't working.
The rabbit mech approached with a proud spring in his gait like he'd solved a perceived problem.
"How'd you like the story?"
"Good…" Cypress frowned and let her plating bristle.
"But?"
"I don't care much for all of this."
Brussel transformed, his lithe frame barely clearing her hip, before gesturing to their surroundings.
Sure, a glimpse of Eukaris was nice, but it all felt hollow.
"Yeah. It's gorgeous here…but," Cypress pointed directly at him, "That's what I mean. You say I'm one of you, and this is home, but the first thing Carnivac's pack did was remind me I'm an outsider."
"That's ridicul-"
"With respect, that's bull. I see it in your optics, too. You've been picking us apart for joors. Every faction here and on Earth is the same. I'm useful when it's convenient because none of you want a bio-weapon with a mind of its own. None of you want the whole me. Now, I only look acceptable enough in your optics, and I won't give Predacons a bad rep; you welcome me."
Brussel tilted his helm in a shrug, "An accurate assessment. Why not tell Predaking Scourge all this if it troubles you?"
She huffed, "I'm not stupid, and I don't have big enough jaws. I'll play along because this is what's right. We need the Massicons gone. But remember: this isn't for you. It's for my pack."
The short mech rocked back on his heels, "Yes, the same pack who turned on you?"
Cypress rotated her left arm to get rid of the phantom pain, "Yeah, that's my business, though. Isn't it? Family fights. It's not right, but it happens. I'll take my chances with the devils I know on some planet where they're welcome too."
"Oh?" Brussel's gaze returned to where Bee was stuck beside a half-transformed Cade and the curious sparklings. He was good at veiling what he actually thought. Cypress could tell something about her put him off balance.
Cypress sidestepped to block his view.
That wasn't any of his business, either.
"This isn't my fight, and circumstances were made, so I can't even claim one on Earth. Part of many, aligned with none. I hate you all for that. Maybe it's a blessing, though. I don't know who's in the right: Bot, Con, or Preda. I'm done. If you all couldn't figure it out in millennia, I guess the cycles are set in stone. Or you're all fragging stupid. I'm not going to continue it."
"Big words from one so young."
"Uh-huh, and who's fault is that? You tell Daihatsu or Rilo or whatever he calls himself that. I'm not his test subject or his kid. He wants clarification; he can come find me. I'm sick of being lied to. You all want a weapon? Fine. But I'll do it on my terms. And when this is done, leave me be."
"To each their own."
Well, she wasn't going to get anywhere with the judgemental lagomorph…
Cypress dipped her helm, "Thank you for the hospitality."
"No, thank you. It is not often they get such entertainment."
Cade was awake and facing off with a tiny, triceratops-looking sparking, both in alt. Bumblebee had the Decepticon by the rear bumper, dragging him away.
"Can you find your way back?"
She snorted and wriggled her digit-tips, "I can. I left markers. Hopefully, your people didn't erase them."
Brussel nodded, "I hope you find what you're searching for."
Cypress beamed. "Thank you. I wish you and yours the best." She strode off and joined Bee in dragging Cade back to the street.
Where was home, exactly?
If anyone asked, she'd still say Earth. To tie yourself to a place meant that when it was gone, a piece of you would vanish, too. Still, it wasn't like you could put a whole planet in your pocket. You couldn't cut out every lousy part, either. It was messy and complicated and gross and–
That was part of a home, she supposed.
The paved street ended, and they wound up carrying Barricade back through the jungle.
It's like how you carried home with you no matter where you went.
Cybertronians were so literal in everything from their mythology to their emotional lives to being made of their planet. They are eerily similar to humans in some ways and worlds apart in others.
So it stood to reason home could be what you carried with you: joys, sorrows, people. Or a shared enemy still having a literal hissing fit.
These ancient ones understood home in their way. It was an abstract concept that each person gave their meaning to.
Cypress took in the semi-circle of the Ark's 'formers as they approached. Bumblebee timed dropping Cade into a patch of beachgrass and gravel.
"Next time, walk."
Lockdown eyed them each, "Thought you'd want to stay, temp."
Cypress shrugged and draped an arm over Bee, "You're not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, who else is going to patch you idiots up?"
Another good thing about Transformers–body language and EM ran together. If you could project enough of each, you could appear confident.
Fake it 'till you make it.
The specter that was Scourge still stood where he had been,
"We will need a designation for your team. That is unless you enjoy being blown out of the skies. The Fratènite name has already been taken."
"Of course…" Arcee mumbled, "Any suggestions?"
She waited, arms out.
With a quiet laugh, Prowl broke one of his long silences, "Remember when you were so paranoid about Sparkeaters, Lockdown?"
The spiky mech was straining not to flare his plating, "That's not funny. They're still out there somewhere."
"Maybe even right here."
Cypress made a note to run diagnostics on everyone after take-off. Prowl was looking ecstatic–not haunted or weighed down.
The Praxian's doorwings twitched, "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine."
Sideswipe mouthed, "Fine," ringing the phrase with air quotes, which Prowl still saw.
"There aren't any concrete records of Sparkeaters, just myths. Who's to say you even offline after your spark is taken? It could be like bonding. The name is also foreboding and mildly insensitive."
"I'm game," Jazz nodded, prompting agreement around their semi-circle.
"So we'll be Sparkeaters. The ones they couldn't kill and vengeance for those left behind." Arcee turned to the Predaking, "Is that acceptable?"
Yeah, Scourge was long gone along with his entourage.
How someone that imposing could vanish without- a sound wasn't the most concerning thing Cypress had come across this week. It was up there, though.
"Right, Sparkeaters, let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps," Lockdown muttered.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Brussel watched the twinkle of a ship vanish into the atmosphere, quickly followed by the bounty hunter's ship shadowing it.
He turned to face his hulking Autobot companion. "Have what you need?"
Hound finished capturing video footage and stood, his overgrown steeljaw alt flexing. "I do, thanks. I'll meet Scourge in New Kaon."
No Lullaby- Siames
See you in 2024, stay safe!
