#the energon on his face is meant to be like the red markings he gets later fyi lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsuki-here · 3 years

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So I finally decided to write a tfp oneshot; I didn't really want to write anything multi-chaptered since I probably wouldn't have time to finish it, sooo I did this instead. Might try writing some other oneshots in the future, if I find the time. I haven't been able to write anything in months, so it probably ain't that good haha

Title: Hamaka

Characters: Starscream and Knock Out

Word count: 1,696

Pairings: Mentioned Breakdown/Knock Out, somewhat implied Starscream/Knock Out if you wanna interpret it as more than friendship

Summary: It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.

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He strode down the hall of the Nemesis with a forced air of purpose; body tensed, wings up, head held high, and face set in a grim, focused scowl. Not a single other soul was present in the hallway, so it seemed to all be a show for no one, but he knew better. There were cameras everywhere.

Turning the corner, he finally reached his destination and activated the panel to open the massive door in front of him, not daring to look back and see the trail of blue spatters that marked his path through the ship.

The instant the door slid shut behind him, Starscream let the facade drop. Wings fell, shoulders slumped, and an exhausted sigh escape him as he trudged to the examination table near the back wall of the room, ignoring the red optics that were already assessing his injuries from across the room.

This was one of the few places without a camera; Knock Out had made a big scene about 'doctor-patient confidentiality' when Soundwave had tried to install one cycles ago. After enough ranting and dramatics, Megatron finally caved just to shut him up. Soundwave installed one just outside the door instead, and even if the medic wasn't happy about it, he didn't push his luck on getting it removed. The walls were soundproof anyways; only when the door opened was the spyware liable to pick anything up.

With a quiet hiss, Starscream perched on the edge of the table as Knock Out gravitated to his side. He mumbled something inaudible about the Autobots, and the doctor gave a vague nod of understanding and pretended to believe him.

A few metallic clicks sounded somewhere just out of his peripherals as Knock Out's hand turned into a welding torch and he got started on mending any of the wounds that were bleeding. "You really ended up in bad shape."

He hadn't expected much more than that; consoling wasn't something the other bot excelled at. In fact, Starscream was surprised the response was so mild. No sarcasm or mockery that he was accustomed to when visiting the medbay, no prying for information with insensitive questions. That didn't mean he wouldn't make use of his own snarkiness. "Is that really your professional opinion, doctor?"

There wasn't an immediate response, and a period of silence elapsed as Knock Out continued his work, patching each and every open wound and split-open metal until no more energon trickled down to collect in the puddle on the floor. Starscream managed to get through the painful part of the procedure by gritting his teeth and waiting it out, until finally the blowtorch disappeared with another series of clicks. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of receding footsteps reached his audio receptors.

He realized he must have zoned out for a moment; next thing he knew, the red bot was at his side again, this time with a rotary buffer, and was nudging his arm away from his side with a gentle hand to get better access to the scuffed and dented armor there. Starscream complied to the wordless instruction, lifting his limb out of the way as the buffer spun to life with a soft whirring noise and began it's work smoothing out any unsightly marks.

In the span of a few minutes, the Seeker felt himself relaxing and his wings returning to their normal positioning rather than hanging miserably as if made of lead. This was one of the few things that could be looked forward to these days, it seemed, even if the relief was only temporary.

"So, are you going to tell me what really happened?" Knock Out finally spoke up again, moving on to work on his right wing and lightly tilting it up. "Must have been pretty serious if Megatron left you in this condition."

Starscream rolled his optics. There it was. Knock Out could never get through one of these sessions without saying something insensitive. His words were always barbed and laced with poison, in such a stark contrast to his handiwork, which was always carried out with such care. It made him wonder if it was some window into the doctor's life - pre-war life - anyways. Despite how much Knock Out talked, he never really said much. At least, nothing that mattered. All of the cycles he'd known the medic, and he knew nothing of his life before the war or why he'd joined the Decepticons, anything even remotely personal. And on top of that, he was near impossible to read. He knew how to guard his emotions, and he had no obvious body language to go off of, such as how he had his wings that often reflected his inner emotional state. Had he been kinder, back then? Or was he reading into something that held no meaning at all? "It's none of your business."

Knock Out merely hummed in acknowledgement and kept any further questions on the matter to himself, continuing his work with slow, methodical movements of the buffer. "If you say so."

Despite being quite the extrovert, Knock Out usually preferred to provide a type of company that was almost feline in nature. Simply being in the same room, talking about nothing, fixing up any blemishes- Actions doing all the communication because words just didn't fit his style of serious self-expression.

He wasn't really ready for the procedure to be over, and the internal sense of dread came bubbling back up nearly instantly when Knock Out stepped back and the buffer came to a halt. Being fixed meant he had to leave, had to return to difficult decisions and scrambling to stay alive. Had to risk ending up right back in the medbay if something went wrong, and that was if he was lucky.

Normally he would stand immediately, test his limbs and joints to make a show of ensuring the medic did his job correctly before excusing himself typically without any thanks. This time, Starscream stayed where he was as Knock Out returned his tool to its rightful place, hoping not to be asked why he lingered. The medbay was the one place he could relax, and expect a degree of comfort and understanding; it was safe.

[But no, that wasn't quite right, because the room had nothing to do with it, the room was nothing. The medbay wasn't safe, Knock Out was safe. It's such an important distinction, one Starscream still struggled to fully comprehend because trust was usually deadly in his experience.]

And safety was so rare and precious here, more valuable than any gem or riches one could ever hope to fathom.

It was no wonder, then, that the troops were drawn to the medbay for similar reasons as he was, all like moths to a dazzling light. The vehicons were all nobodies, created simply for the purpose of being bodies to throw at the enemy. They were mostly neglected and treated as tools, or at best, just ignored and deemed irrelevant, so a doctor's visit was as good as it got. Even if Knock Out didn't particularly care about the soldiers, he still treated them as living beings when he tended to their injuries, not to mention they got to be the center of his attention for those brief few minutes.

In fact, Starscream had an inkling that some of the vehicons' rather common injuries from the energon mines weren't quite as accidental as they claimed. He had no doubt at least a few of them had a little crush on the doctor and just wanted an excuse to visit the medbay to get their paint jobs fixed. He couldn't say he blamed them; Knock Out glowed like a flame on a starless night.

After a few moments passed, he felt the medic's gaze on him once again, and braced himself to make some excuse of why he hadn't left yet, though the question never came. Rather, Knock Out stated, "At least the war can't drag on for too much longer, with the limited resources left. We'll be able to return to Cybertron soon, I imagine."

The change in topic was welcome, anything to distract from the reason he was there to begin with, not to mention to focus on a more hopeful prospect.

[A part of him recognized Knock Out chose the topic with a level of subtle deliberation, specifically to get his mind in a better place. The automobile was never too concerned with the fate of Cybertron; he'd grown too fond of Earth over the years, Primus knows why.]

The conversation meandered from there, drifting like a raft lost at sea between topics and non-topics, words that hardly even made sense and were just there to fill the void.

It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.

"Be careful," was all Knock Out had to say, but there was a tone of concern and hurt in his expression that Starscream wasn't sure he'd ever heard or seen before.

[Because Breakdown was dead and the doctor was still grieving for his conjunx, in his own internalized way, and there wasn't much left he had to care about now.]

He didn't know what to say or what he even could say to ease the other's worry, and just turned away. The medbay doors slid shut behind him, and the sudden, oppressive isolation was like a physical blow that required a moment to recover from before he started down the dark hallway, this time without any limp or biting pain. His path of blood splotches still remained, the glow of the energon having dulled with the passage of time, like an eerie breadcrumb trail beckoning to him. He followed, vaguely aware that it was luring him back into the vicious cycle of war and violence he'd grown accustomed to over the millions of years, and with every step, further away from home.

#starscream #knock out #tfp #transformers #prime #transformers prime #oneshot #short fic #fanfic

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witchofthesouls · 3 years

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Can we have a sweet reunion with Con!s/o and their family aboard the Nemesis? They've been gone for too long 😓😓😓

(Hot damn, quite a few people wanted to see a reunion. Ahhh, I tried but the Quintessons attacked, so here’s a moment between Thundercracker with his family at the Autobot base.)

Thundercracker onlines to the ugly orange shade of the Ark’s medbay. Two pairs of big red optics on small faces grow wide and then the squealing starts, the sparklings crawling closer to his face. Thundercracker grunts as small, chubby limbs dig into the fresh welds.

“Stop that,” you chide from the side, getting up from a chair and brushing them off. Blue’s in your arms, beginning to sniffle from the interrupted feeding. Red and Purple are gearing up as well.

“It’s,” he croaks out, forcing his arms to cooperate and pat their small frames. “It’s fine.” They give out, pulling them close and forming a loose hug around the small forms.

He can’t access his comms, but the trinebond is lively as ever. Skywarp pushes raw relief and excitement. Starscream burns hotly, his attention completely on something else.

Maybe you can read his expression since you snort, Blue’s back to your chassis. “You took a hit meant for Air Raid. That idiot.” There’s vicious amusement in your optics. “Starscream is taking them to task now.

Well, that explains things. Oh, to be a scraplet in the vents when Autobot Command realized their aerial team had been commandeered by the Decepticon SIC and Winglord…

Thundercracker’s smile turns into a grimace as Red prods the welds and Purple pats over his chassis, curious over how their sire has a flat surface rather than a shiny cockpit. His own spark shudders in memory of the high velocity trapper, slicing through military-grade armature like gelled energon and clamping over his spark chamber.

Your face is calm, patting Blue’s back, but it’s your EM field that tells a different story. It grasps to his in tight hold, mingling deeply and reluctant to pull away.

“Vortex was out of commission.” It’s not an apology but it’s the closest he could offer. With Bruticus out and the Constructicons pulled back, it made the remaining two gestalts all the more necessary to head the Quintessons’ ships. The sparklings chirp and he never, ever wants them to land in the slavers’ destructive grips.

“I know.” He knows you don’t like it, but you don’t blame him either. He sees that the inhibitor collar is gone from your neck and wonders which Autobot took it off. He doesn’t want to think how close the ships came to the downed bases.

Decepticons as a whole aren’t big on the small, quiet gestures. They wear their associations openly, proudly, upon their frames: similar paintjobs or styles, deliberate marks on kibble, or a well-placed bite. You grasp his servo quietly, palm warm against his and he has no complaints.

It’s not the reunion he’d pictured, but as the two sparklings scramble to pat his chassis, chirping at him with little nubs flicking, and their sibling dozes off your arms, full and content, optics flickering sleepily, he doesn’t mind it.

#ask #transformers #transformers g1 #G1 #thundercracker #reader insert #con!reader #cybertronian!reader #bitlets #sparklings #injury #implied violence #quintessons #starscream #skywarp #command trine

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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A primeverse drabble of Sideswipe confusing Jack with genders (I guess the kids haven’t yet learned Cybertronians have no concept of genders) and being kinda overpowered, on account of being a Shockwave made supersoldier and all that. Written while half dead and not proofread so I apologize for any and all weirdness and errors.

“I just landed on Earth. I would really appreciate it if you could tell me where the local Autobot base is, before the ‘Cons find me.”

There were some confusing signals here. On one hand the red Cybertronian down on one knee in front of them, smiling an easy, friendly smile, had a high, young, feminine voice, thin waist, and wide hips. But on the other, their facial features weren’t altogether fitting for a female, and their shoulders were broad. It was a confusing dichotomy, when so far all the mecha they’d met had fallen pretty easily in one of two camps: mech, or femme. Male or female, as it was. This one—Sideswipe, they’d introduced themselves—broke the norm set by everyone else, and Jack felt a lot like he shouldn’t even try to fit them to a specific box because really, gender was a complicated thing and not everything fit into neat boxes– “You don’t have the Autobot insignia,” Raf pointed out, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. Jack focused back on the rest of it at that and quickly scanned the red mech’s frame. And it was true, there was no insignia to be found anywhere on her (his?) frame, only an empty space at the center of her chest that looked like it should’ve held an insignia. That was… A little odd. The femme glanced away at that, shifting uneasily. “There were some… Circumstances that forced me to get rid of it. You know, to save my skin,” she shrugged. “What kind of circumstances?” Miko asked, taking a step closer. There was challenge in her voice, demanding answers, an explanation. “It’s war out there,” Sideswipe sighed in answer, looking weary despite her youthful voice. “And you’re not always in the position to fight. I had to pass off as a Neutral for a while, so… Bye bye markings of the faction I actually belong to.” Seemed… Reasonable enough, at least to Jack’s very lacking knowledge of what interstellar politics were like. Or was it intergalactic? He wasn’t quite sure how far their friends had actually come from. Miko frowned, but she didn’t have too much of an argument either. Other concerns existed, though. “How do we know you’re actually an Autobot?” Raf asked. To their surprise, Sideswipe outright laughed at that. It was a pretty pleasant sound. “What else would I be?” she asked, giving them a lopsided smile. And it was true, her bioights and optics were blue, like Autobots’ were, and like Decepticons’ really weren’t. Jack shared a glance with Raf and Miko. They��d still need to talk to their ‘Bots before they could just tell a stranger where the base was, but– A sudden roar of engines was followed by the sounds of three different transformation sequences. “Jack! Raf! Miko! Get away from him!” Bulkhead’s voice rang out behind them and they all turned to look to see their guardians running towards them. Urgent, almost… Fearful? Him? Sideswipe? A soft hiss of pistons had them glancing back at the red mech, who rose back to his pedes. And it was only now that they could really appreciate how tall he was. He towered over Arcee, even over Bumblebee. Only Bulkhead could match his height. All of this… Probably meant Sideswipe wasn’t an Autobot after all. That suspicion was confirmed when the color of his optics suddenly changed, bleeding from blue, to purple, to red. Starting from his helm the color bled along his biolights, blue slowly draining to give way to devilish red. This was bad. “Run. Run!” Jack yelled at his two human friends, urging them both into motion ahead of himself, and together they bolted towards their guardians. And then behind them, coming to a stop only when Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead were all securely between them and Sideswipe. But the red mech didn’t even try to pursue them, merely straightened himself… Lifted his chin. A smile was playing on his lips, and he looked utterly unconcerned with the fact he was outnumbered three to one. “Ha! Sideswipe doesn’t stand a chance! Better run, ‘Con!” Miko whooped. Jack wasn’t so sure, and from the look on his face, neither did Raf. “What are you doing here, Sideswipe?” Arcee asked, snarling. Sideswipe shrugged, closing his optics demurely. “I heard Megatron was here on Earth. Figured the action would be with him.” “Well, you’re not welcome here,” Bulkhead growled, and it was really, really getting to Jack how relaxed Sideswipe remained. He had no right to be in the face of three warriors as skilled as their guardians were. They kicked ‘Con aft on the regular! “That’s just rude,” Sideswipe sighed, deigning to look at the lot of them again. “I think Megatron would disagree.” Three engines revved before the Autobots on the scene attacked. Arms transformed into blasters; Bulkhead went to close the distance for some good old melee pummeling. Sideswipe’s smile never wavered. And yeah, Sideswipe was as tall as Bulkhead was, but he was considerably lighter built. He was no Breakdown. Despite that, the red mech moved to meet Bulkhead’s charge, and… Swords extended from his arms. And kept extending. And kept extending. And kept extending until they almost brushed the ground. It wasn’t the quick shink that the blades of ones like Optimus and Arcee came to play with. This was slow, methodical—for show, almost. Sideswipe deftly avoided the blaster fire aimed at him, reached Bulkhead, and then they clashed. Except, it wasn’t the epic smashdown it was supposed to be. It wasn’t two titans coming to blows. Bulkhead undoubtedly had brute strength on his side, but Sideswipe moved like quicksilver, always staying two steps ahead of Bulkhead’s attacks, always evading every crippling blow he should have taken. And those swords he had… Slag, you’d have thought their length would be a problem, make them unwieldy. But their slow introduction into the battle was nothing but show, he was sure of that much now. Sideswipe proved well enough that he could both extend and retract them in seconds by doing just that. Every time his swords should’ve gotten in the way, they suddenly disappeared, only to reappear a moment later. And more often than not, that ended with cuts on Bulkhead that the green mech couldn’t block because of the unpredictability and sheer speed Sideswipe employed. Arcee joined the fray, and that should have tipped the scales. Arcee was a fast fighter too, and together her and Bulkhead should have had well enough destructive prowess to bring down any common ‘Con. Except Sideswipe wasn’t common, was he? He was like a dancer when he moved between Arcee and Bulkhead, smooth in every motion—blocking, moving out of the way, attacking to a devastating effect. Bumblebee couldn’t get shots in without risking hitting his comrades, so he went melee also. Three on one. For real, in close quarters. And it never stopped looking like Sideswipe had the upper hand. How was he that fast anyway? It looked almost unnatural—until Jack noticed the bit of heated air that accompanied every particularly fast motion.

Could a mech have jets built into them to enhance their movement speed..? Sideswipe never once lost his smile, despite cutting bleeding gashes into their guardians with his blades that appeared and retracted at a punishing pace. Bumblebee’s leg was almost severed. Arcee got a deep cut across her abdomen. Bulkhead was littered with wounds even his armor couldn’t protect him from. Miko didn’t look so confident anymore. In fact, he was pretty sure horror was reflected on all their faces as they watched the slow obliteration of their friends. He wasn’t… Slag, he wasn’t even sure Sideswipe was all that serious. He made it all look so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying.

He was seriously getting worried they were about to watch their guardians get killed, or at the very least, severely incapacitated, but then, a space bridge opened behind them. They glanced over their shoulders to see Optimus walk through the spinning portal, and relief flushed his veins. There was no way even Sideswipe could stand up against Optimus Prime. Right? “Sideswipe,” Optimus rumbled with a clear note of displeasure. The fight broke off, their injured friends retreating a few steps away as the Prime approached. Sideswipe didn’t try to continue the fight and straightened back to his full height, carelessly flicking some energon off the end of his left hand sword. “Optimus. Long time no see,” he smiled, and could he not freaking stop smiling?

“Does Megatron know you’re here?” Optimus asked, coming to stand beside his comrades. The red mech just shrugged, glancing away and rocking on his heels—not answering. What did that mean? That the Decepticons didn’t know about him? Could that mean he could be captured without the ‘Cons being none the wiser to it? Or killed, even? “Sideswipe, I cannot let you harm my soldiers, or the humans,” Optimus said. “I believe you are a threat if left be.” Sideswipe made an amused sound. “Can’t really disagree with that,” he said with a wry grin, and now Jack could get a good look at his fangs. Definitely a Decepticon through and through. How had they gotten fooled even momentarily? “But,” the red mech continued, inspecting his swords, “I can’t just go quietly, can I?” A shiver ran up Jack’s spine at the words. Sideswipe lifted one of his arms, pointing his sword at Optimus. The threat was clear as day. Did that mean Sideswipe was powerful enough to challenge even Optimus? No, not just Optimus, but Optimus, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee? That couldn’t be. There was no way that could be. And maybe it wasn’t, because a vortex opened up behind Sideswipe too, and– Through walked a mech with near identical frame design, only this one was colored in bright gold. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked, and if Sideswipe’s voice was high, the new mech’s was deep, rough, traveling to his core and all but shaking it. “There’s two of them?!” Miko whispered urgently, and Jack knew what they all were thinking. If this new arrival was as strong as Sideswipe was appearing... “Not late at all, Sunny,” Sideswipe smiled, glancing at his near-copy when he came next to him. “Not late at all.”

#transformers #maccadam #tfp #sideswipe #sunstreaker #optimus prime #bulkhead #arcee #bumblebee #jack #raf #miko #fic #2020 #primeverse #love/hate heartbreak

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sparklingpax · 3 years

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What It Costs

Love is sweet, love is loyalty, love is unwavering, love is....sacrifice. Sometimes, one does not remember the last part until it is simply....too late.

///

A/N:

-Angst. This is angst. If some of y’all don’t like that stuff and/or are bothered by it, click off or scroll by, please. Thanks.

-Hhhhh speaking of that, I’ll have you know I’m terrible at this kind of writing. I gave it my all, however. I hope I did passably, at least...^^’’

-Um......I am very sorry if I made any errors, be it a typo or misinformation about something/someone, etc. I wrote a lot of this very late at night or at ungodly hours of the morning.....so that might explain a little of it ^~^’’ I’ll read through it as many times as possible after posting so I can catch and fix as many of those mistakes as possible....

-I’ll make this quick; sorry again to anyone who saw this the first time ^^’’ But this time, I’ve posted it intentionally so I hope you enjoy!! :’D

-This is only one, long part so dw about cliffhangers or waiting 10 centuries a long time for me to finish it :3

-Set in the TFP universe! And obviously, my attempt at some official OptiRatch content! :)

The sky was a dull, bleak grey.

Icy rain pelted the earth, pouring from the stormy skies with a vengeance as harsh winds tossed them around with an ominous whistling.

Yet the real storm had materialized inside the rocks—in the simple silo base where the Autobots resided.

Today, the children had not been able to come to the base.

Miko was in detention, Jack was busy working overtime at his job, and Raf was studying for a exam.

It was just one of those days.

“Thank Primus for peace and quiet!” Ratchet would have remarked as he usually did on days such as this.

However, things were all but calm—even as a prickly silence filled the air.

///

“I…I cannot let you do that…” Optimus stammered at last. He bowed his head and shifted his gaze to the left, clearly uncomfortable. “It is only a mere relic, not worth the life—”

A fist pounded the wall, leaving a blackened scuff mark in the metal.

“DON’T YOU CARE?!” Ratchet practically screamed. Optimus’s eyes rounded with guilt as he turned his gaze back to the medic sharply.

“Of course I—”

“Then GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, OPTIMUS—” he hit the wall next to him once again, with more force. “It’s not about you!!!”

He spat those words so coldly, so jarringly sharp, Optimus felt his spark twist.

Old friend…I do not think you understand my intent at all…please be patient with me…

The Prime opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet flashed him an even harsher glare, silencing any further words. Optimus again cast his eyes momentarily to the floor.

Pushing past his leader, Ratchet raised his fist, not turning to face Optimus, and flipped up his middle finger.

Optimus would have given an amused laugh.

‘Did one of the children teach you that custom?’ he wanted to ask jokingly, teasingly.

Agent Fowler had done it enough times for Optimus to understand what it meant.

But all he could do was stare after his medic as the older mech stalked over to the groundbridge controls. All kinds of alarms were going off in Optimus’s head, and yet all he could do was…watch.

Perhaps he could take no more of Ratchet’s harsh attitude—the anger that emanated off his old friend.

Perhaps he really wasn’t making the right decision, but Ratchet was.

Or perhaps…

You’re a coward, Optimus. A big, strong, coward.

“I’ll find the relic myself,” Ratchet announced to the other bots. Up until then, they had, unmoving and tense, watched the argument which had preceded all this.

Don’t go, my Starlight…or at least…let me go with you…But the Prime stood immobile, watching the old bot speak.

“I’ll find it myself and win us the war,” he repeated, still trembling with rage from minutes before. He turned that sharply angered expression—now laced with disdain—at the Autobot leader. “And I don’t need any backup.”

A swirling portal of green, white, and purple roared to life when the medic shoved the lever downwards, his expression only grim now. Without saying anymore, he then turned and transformed. An ambulance raced through the portal and disappeared seconds later.

While the Prime lingered absentmindedly near the bridge, eyes focusing on no one thing as he stared around, deep in thought, Bumblebee carefully padded over and pulled the lever up. The swishing, humming noise quickly faded as the groundbridge portal did, and silence rested over them once again.

Except that silence was still not peaceful.

Optimus soon found himself speaking, not really thinking as he did.

“Woah—you sure, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked, eyes widened a bit nervously. “I mean, no offense but…Ratchet might rip you to shreds…”

‘He looked pretty mad,’ Bumblebee agreed quietly.

“If something were to happen to him, it would be my fault,” Optimus found himself saying. “For that reason, please reopen the groundbridge.”

You scared of the blame, Optimus?

You don’t want to be incriminated?

Are you making this about you?

Do you really care?

Optimus didn’t want to shake those questions away just yet. He was unsure of their answers. The Prime wished his mind was where his body was, yet as he transformed and drove through the bridge, his thoughts continued to wander.

They taunted him, echoing his medic’s scornful words.

Why don’t you go after the relic, the one thing that could save us? Who cares if Megatron is there with all his troops? What makes that different from any other of your confrontation with him?

A heavy feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach—a foreboding sense.

Often—they say—if your loved one is in danger, you can feel it.

Optimus pushed harder on the gas, thinking only of what was going to take place if he did not reach his friend quickly enough.

The day was dark, cold, and rainy.

///

Ratchet pressed his back against the side of a tall rock, not daring to peer again at the action taking place in the center of the clearing. He heard the footsteps of some vehicons heading his way. They drew their guns as they got closer.

Above him, the dead-looking gray skies has stilled, leaving the air feeling taut—like it was holding its breath and ready snap any second.

The storm from Jasper must be close by, considering I bridge to—

Ratchet gritted his teeth and snapped himself back to focusing on the current situation.

The medic felt his spark racing. His arms began to tremor uncontrollably as he drew them upwards to get into a fighting stance.

They saw you. They saw you and it hasn’t been more than 8 minutes you’ve been here. What a successful mission. It’s just you against Megatron and hundreds of vehicons. And—

He glanced down at his leg a little worriedly.

He’d jumped into action a week before and received a blow to the leg he was still healing from. At this very moment, in fact, he felt a faint aching start up again in his knee.

Ratchet let his head fall against the rock, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard and drawing out his own blades.

You idiot.

He counted the seconds before attack.

Optimus was right.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! BRING HIM TO ME NOW!!” Megatron’s furiously growled order broke the tense silence.

Instantly the slow footsteps became sets of scrambling feet, quickly heading for the rock. A second later, Ratchet watched (and heard) a shot of crimson red blaster fire whiz past his helm. Instinctively, he let out a cry of shock and stumbled to the side—right out from behind the rock.

Before he could regain his footing to even turn around, the silence exploded into the deafening sound of hundreds of shots aimed for him. The medic turned and faced it, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath as one or two grazed his plating.

He charged, strangely feeling almost a little….detached from his own body. Like he was on autopilot.

“For Cybertron!!!” He heard a voice shout.

What….am I doing here?

“FOR VICTORY!!!”

Oh…it was his voice. Right.

The orange-white-plated mech swerved past the blaster fire, swinging his arms—now blades—back, forth, up, down….

Optimus, forgive me. I was a fool. I was a prideful fool.

He ducked a shot and kicked out, catching the vehicon by surprise and knocking him off his feet. Almost one motion, the old bot maintained his momentum and swung his blades at an oncoming opponent.

The con dodged smoothly. He raised his gun and fired.

Just as Ratchet thought to spring in the other direction, his knee gave out beneath him. Ratchet tripped over himself, grabbing his knee.

Right in the path of the vehicon’s shot.

A shot ripped through his shoulder, followed by another closer to his neck, tearing from the medic such an ugly, guttural cry that even the vehicon flinched. The medic crumpled to the floor in a writhing heap of short, agonized exclamations.

Meanwhile, the vehicon’s gun wavered a bit, drawing back a second. Ratchet’s pained noises faded from the air of the clearing, replaced only by the sound of his tremoring breath. Clearly struggling, the medic reached over and clasped his shoulder so hard his digits shook. A small flow of energon began to leak through, soiling his servos and the dirt surrounding his figure. Turning his face to the con, he let his eyes show off his anger.

In a smaller, quavering voice, he managed to say, “C-coward…hold y-your…w-w-weapon….straight why don’t you—” He spat out, wheezing a bit, then falling limp into the ground. Not unconscious, but simply out of strength.

Or…will to live.

The Vehicon shook its head and held the gun firmly upwards again. The weapon was trained directly on Ratchet’s helm.

Just at that moment, the skies snapped.

A bellowing rumble of thunder sounded, the clouds suddenly looking bigger, darker, greyer….

It’s pointless…we’ll just lose, won’t we? Like we always do. Megatron will have his way today, and he’ll have his way until he kills all of us and ends this fragging war….

Ratchet looked up, hearing a low, gravelly cackle.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear—is that not the phrase?

The medic let out a little moan, rolling over onto his side, still clasping a hand to his bleeding wound. His gaze, sharp with pain and yet dull with exhaustion, stared ahead to see the vehicon back away twitchily.

Megatron’s footsteps shook the ground a little as he stalked in Ratchet’s direction. The huge figure of the ex-gladiator soon towered over Ratchet. He smirked a little, slowly folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head.

“Ratchet….” he paused to chuckle. “Tell me, what ever did you think you were going to accomplish?”

“T….the relic—” he hissed tightly, breaking off abruptly to suppress a noise of pain as his shoulder burned with pain under his grip. His optics, trained on Megatron’s sneering face, spoke more than a thousand words of hate and fire.

Megatron laughed out loud.

“Oh, you must mean—” he turned and make a rough motion at the vehicons behind him. The one holding the escape pod immediately scurried across the clearing to them. “This trinket?” He asked, grabbing the object from his soldier.

The pod hadn’t been opened yet.

The pod hasn’t been opened yet. The weapon is still inside.

Ratchet let his mind fixate on that one thought.

There is time still….if I can just…..

Megatron started one of his small monologues, something Ratchet wasn’t listening to. He switched on his comm link as discreetly as he could. Pride was not of importance now, Ratchet told himself.

Optimus had been right, and he knew it. It would be entirely foolish not to try to—

“Ratchet?”

Megatron instantly stopped dead in his tracks. His head whipped around as he processed the voice. His eyes darkened when he registered.

“I see.” Was all he growled in a chillingly quiet voice.

“Ratchet, what is going—”

The medic fumbled to switch it off again, internally kicking himself for so stupid a plan. Of course his idiot sparkmate would call out to him the instant his switched on his comm lines again!

He meant well, Ratchet. He loves you. He cares about you. Keep that in mind.

Ratchet let out a grunt of both pain and frustration.

Optimus, hurry! There isn’t anymore time!

Ratchet watched as Megatron dropped to his level and grabbed his chin. Mustering all his confidence, the medic stared with an unwavering gaze right back.

“You’re a fool, Autobot. Much more foolish than I remember you being,” he snarled.

Ratchet narrowed his eyes and fired back, “Not as much of a fool as you—and unlike you, I’m not a pile of—”

“SILENCE!!!!!!!”

Megatron’s roared command silenced the medic instantly. Ratchet was not afraid, just startled. Around him, all the vehicons nearby had flinched and taken steps back—even though they were as far away as they were. The Decepticon leader gave another growl, indignant and angered at his prisoner’s insolence.

He released Ratchet, cursing under his breath.

Now the Prime is coming. I can’t just leave.

The huge figure of Megatron paced around, his grey metal looking oddly shinier in the greyish lighting the skies were providing. He was formulating a course of action.

A plan.

His eyes lit up and he straightened again, looking once more as if he was in control.

Just at that moment, a terrible rumble that Ratchet felt all through his body sounded in the air.

The storm had arrived, and the great roll of thunder was its announcer.

Megatron looked around casually, then back at Ratchet. There was a dry amusement dancing in his optics.

“Today shall be the day another one of you dies,” he spoke with a terrifying finality.

The medic’s spark skipped a beat. He felt a cold fear run through his veins, and sit at the bottom of his stomach—like a rock. Yet it was not fear for his own life.

“How can you be so certain?” Ratchet fought to keep his tone level—steady.

Blinding white flashed through the air, accompanied by a tearing, cracking sound that rang in everyone’s audio receptors. However Megatron stood, and had not flinched. His eyes held a dangerous light of unbending desire.

“One of you will die by my hand,” Megatron repeated himself, turning away. “For it is as I will.”

Then, the ex-gladiator stalked back across the clearing. Vehicons immediately scurried to form a circle around Ratchet, two of them coming even closer to guard him, guns drawn and ready to fire.

Softly, gently, unrelentingly, drops of moisture began to fall from the sky.

Rain.

Ratchet closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the odd sensation of those thousands of drops of liquid created when they repeatedly hit his plating.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Ratchet let his head fall into his hands.

Optimus….my sweetspark…..forgive me…

He jolted as a vehicon reached over and slapped his helm harshly.

“Up.” He snapped, holding up stasis cuffs.

Ratchet sincerely hoped, with all his spark, that he would be the one.

///

“Ratchet? Please respond, Ratchet.” Optimus repeated himself once again, speeding down the empty road in alt-mode. He finally rolled to a halt, transforming and taking a look around.

Dark clouds poured rain, the rising winds causing the little droplets to mercilessly pelt his plating from all sides.

“Old Friend,” he tried his comm for what felt like the hundredth time. “Sweetspark, respond.”

Urgency laced his tone, concern burning clearly in his gaze.

Please, my love. Something happened, I am sure of it. But….what?

Static sounded in his audio receptors until, with a sigh, the Autobot leader switched his link off again.

I must find him on my own, then—

He perked up suddenly, hearing a faint noise of….blaster fire?

A cold, sick feeling twisted in his stomach. Dread weighed heavily on his chest.

Hang on, my Starlight….!

Without a second to spare, driving as if a fire chased his tailpipes, Optimus pushed his engines to the max. He sped closer, feeling that dread and despair sink further into him as he could more clearly make out the sounds of a fight.

All he wanted was for Ratchet to be okay.

All he wanted was for Ratchet to come home.

Maybe he was selfish for not wanting to attempt to steal that relic, but Optimus knew that he couldn’t go on if anything happened to his teammates over some weapon. The war was not worth anyone’s life.

If he could save yet just one more, he’d take that option first.

You will come home alive. No matter the cost. I will not fail you, old friend.

He pushed the brakes and skidded to a halt, catching sight of the commotion. There was a space between two towering canyons below his road. In that rocky clearing, Optimus saw an orange-white-plated mech darting from left to right, fending off as many of the oncoming vehicons as he could. Sure enough, Megatron was also there. At present, he simply stood by, watching.

Enough was enough. Ratchet needed help.

Optimus transformed and gripped the side of the mountain he’d been driving up, vaulting off the top and landing with a huge ‘THUMP!!’ on the road below.

He cared not for the huge crater that now lay in the road.

Optimus ran as fast as he could, drawing out both his guns and firing as soon as he was in range of the fight.

“STEP AWAY FROM RATCHET!!!” Optimus commanded, nailing two vehicon soldiers with two shots as he continued to cross the distance of the clearing. Some of them scrambled back, many others turned their fire on the Prime, charging at him with a strange confidence.

Optimus felt his blood boiling. The rain seemed to intensify as another bolt of lightning ripped through the sky with great ferocity. Almost like it had hit Optimus himself, he put away his guns and drew his swords, feeling electrified—powerful.

I am not afraid of you, Megatron. Nor of your legions of breakable troops which you care nothing for.

He saw the warlord, standing far across the clearing, arms folded.

“FACE ME, MEGATRON!!!!”

And with a powerful war cry, Optimus bolted forward, swords drawn. Vehicons poured in from all sides, shooting at him and trying to throw themselves in the Prime’s way.

He didn’t notice pain from shots that ripped through his armor, the blows that landed on his chest—before he grabbed his attackers and dismantled them one by one.

The Prime had but one target.

Optimus wanted Megatron, and he wanted the end of this selfish, futile war.

///

Megatron inspected the pod, wondering if he should open it now or wait until—

“Step away from Ratchet!!!” He heard the enraged command from across the clearing. Before his eyes met the scene, Megatron already knew who it was. He grinned, baring his teeth with excitement.

Ah, yes, Optimus. That’s right. Come closer. Let me finish you once and for all…

With an unchecked level of anger, he yelled for Megatron to face him, tossing away the corpse of yet another dead vehicon as he spoke. The Decepticon warlord stood, unmoving, gazing with a taunting amusement in his eyes as he watched Optimus fight his way through the vehicons, tearing them apart as they would approach him.

At last, no one dared to approach the Prime. The rest of the vehicons there had either fled or threw themselves behind rocks to hide. Optimus stood for a second, panting, energon spattered all over his body and swords. He looked around to find Ratchet passed out in a heap, far to Megatron’s right. No vehicons stood guard.

Of course, with Megatron there, guards were not a necessity.

You’re a fool, too, Optimus. You all are.

Thunder rumbled, louder than before.

“So, you’ve come to rescue your lapdog, have you?” Megatron asked, sneering through every word he said. Optimus seemed to vibrate with anger. He didn’t respond, eyes a sparking electric blue behind his battlemask.

“You can take him, Optimus,” as the Prime twitched to move, Megatron held up his arm—the one with the fusion canon—and added, “For a price.”

Optimus looked ready to rip his head off.

He had clearly seen Ratchet’s wounds, and the new ones from a….punishment. Minutes after the medic had tried to escape, Optimus had arrived.

It was almost like they were going to succeed!

However, the large grey-purple mech had also made absolutely sure Ratchet would not escape, no matter what.

Megatron thought he’d feed his ‘old friend’s’ anger.

Or perhaps…his guilt.

“While you were busy tearing vehicons to shreds, Ratchet was able to be successfully contained. We had to rough him up a little, as a result of his foolish actions…..but he’ll live…for now.”

He gave a little chuckle as Optimus made a quiet exclamation.

“You might have succeeded had you kept yourself focused on getting your friend out of here, Optimus!”

“You will let him go.” He growled, taking a fighting stance.

“Make me.”

“Very well then,” The Prime drew his sword and started towards Megatron. “I shall.”

Megatron dropped his canon. “Or…listen to my offer.”

Optimus stopped, dropping his arms a bit.

“Speak.” He let his gaze burn with a terrifying electricity. “Quickly.”

Megatron was of course, not even slightly fazed. “My terms are simple,” he paused to make a gesture to the clearing in which they stood. “Fight me now, unarmed. If you win, I’ll let you and the medic here return to your base. No one will harm you as you leave.”

It was a simple proposition.

It was a simple goal.

Ratchet would be safe.

��You could fail…Optimus, you could fail and get Ratchet killed…

The rain poured from the skies ever harder, a storm unrelenting and harsh.

Megatron took a few steps until he stood right in front of Optimus.

The third stroke of lightning lit up the skies, flashing in the reflection of Optimus’s blue optics. Megatron grinned, tilting his head. He reached out his hand.

“So?”

Without a single hesitation, Optimus took it.

///

A cold, familiar ache in his shoulder.

Burning sensations of pain from fresh cuts and dents in his body.

Merciless rain battering his plating.

Ominous, loud whistles of wind sounding in his audio receptors.

Ratchet’s optics snapped open when he heard the resounding clang of metal on metal.

“IT IS FUTILE, PRIME—GIVE IT UP!!!”

“NEVER!!”

“MAYBE I SHOULD KILL BOTH OF YOU!!”

There was another sound of impact, punctuated with a short cry of pain. The voice was Optimus’s.

The medic sat up, looking around briefly to see that any remaining vehicons who hadn’t yet traveled back to the warship—hovering a short distance away—were cramming themselves behind rocks, flattening themselves to a corner. Others were presently trying to escape the scene.

Clearly, they wanted no part in any of this dispute.

But I do.

Ratchet hoisted himself up despite the way his wounds stung.

I must.

He watched Optimus and Megatron for a few moments. Neither one seemed to be using their weapons—it was simple combat.

Except there was energon splattered around the grounds where they fought.

Who said swords and guns were the only things that could kill?

“Well, then,” Megatron laughed a chilling, malicious laugh. “Do you surrender yet, Optimus?” He bent down and thrust his face into Optimus’s, while the Prime struggled to get up. Optimus retracted his battlemask, gritting his teeth with anger and in an attempt to stifle pained grunts of effort.

Energon stained the side of his face, dripping steadily from his mouth. He flinched back from the warlord and pushed himself to his feet, taking a fighting stance again.

Ratchet stood, mesmerized.

The sight that lay before him was nearly poetic, in a strange way.

Not the “good” kind of strange.

Rain poured from the heavens, the air was cold, and the winds raced noisily about. Smokey breath billowed from Optimus’s mouth as he panted, looking ragged and angry. His gaze fixated on Megatron.

“This ends today, you lunatic—” he forced out, gripping one of his newer wounds gently. “Even…even if it kills me….”

Megatron grinned. “Oh, it will,” he said slowly, deviously, not moving an inch as Optimus began to circle him. They eyed one another, anticipation hanging in the air as one silently dared the other to make the first move.

I will be the victor today, Optimus, and then I shall win this war!

Time seemed to slow, and suddenly Optimus couldn’t move—yet nothing held his limbs in place.

Instead, his eyes were trained on Megatron as the warlord had suddenly turned.

He chuckled lightly and aimed his fusion canon at Ratchet, who was standing frozen, watching them.

The medic seemed to snap out of his trance and flinched, taking a step back defensively. Optimus felt a new rage form in him. Something unseen tore another war cry from the Prime and he charged at an almost desperate-looking pace.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”

He threw himself at Megatron, knocking the huge mech to the ground. Megatron gave a short cry of surprise, then immediately locked his jaw, biting down on his tongue. Optimus’s eyes burned with such a ferocity that the ex-gladiator had not seen—not for a long time.

Not since he last fought a wild beast in the arena of Kaon.

Never from the soft eyes of Optimus.

“YOU….KILLED THEM,” Optimus snarled, pinning Megatron to the dirt. Rain pelted down, bouncing limply off Optimus’s frame. He glowered over Megatron, seething at him. “YOU DID ALL THIS, YOU MONSTER!!!”

Megatron looked surprised only for a moment, then narrowed his eyes belligerently.

He could only grin. A sick, twisted grin that said, ‘I don’t care.’

Limbs burning with exhaustion, Optimus began to pummel Megatron. He swung side to side, pounding his opponent with all he had. Wordless cries of anger poured from him as he punched…harder, harder….

“Optimus!”

His servos began to tear and feel numb. Streaks of faded blue and purple stained his plating.

“OPTIMUS!!!”

Distantly, a voice registered in his ears. What was it trying to say?

“OPTIMUS, WAIT!!”

All the Prime could see was a blaring, bright red. Steady clanging of metal on metal against the static rain sounded loudly in his optics.

“ORION, PLEASE!!! LISTEN TO ME—”

Optimus felt as if an electric shock had been passed through him. Hearing his name, he froze, panting, trembling, blood roaring in his head. Beneath him, he could feel Megatron tremoring. Yet the silver-purple mech still bore that scrap-eating grin.

He knew something.

Something he won’t tell me, the Autobot leader thought, feeling some of his frustration return. He glanced up again at Ratchet, who was still backing away. The air around them began to vibrate, waves of hot air joining with and drowning out the blustering, icy, rainy wind.

Something was definitely wrong.

Optimus narrowed his optics and raised a readied fist above Megatron’s face.

“What are you not telling me, Megatron?” Optimus gripped his rival by the neck. Nothing but a feeble-sounding laugh met his words. The red optics staring back at him squinted with fatigue and fell shut.

Optimus knew Megatron was still awake.

“I’m more than finished with all your little mind games, this war, your treacheries,” he spat. “What else are you trying to take from us all now?!” His voice rose with every word as Optimus began to work himself up again. Centuries of anger and sadness began to pile on his spark.

Waves of warm, stifling air drew closer. A reverberating hum sounded in Optimus’ skull. Something like….a ship.

All the same, sound faded out around him as he zeroed in on Megatron.

Finally, he was at his fingertips—his mercy. Finally, Optimus thought, he could bring a final peace to—

“You lose,” Megatron sneered, a new fire lighting his optics. Beneath him, the Decepticon leader tensed and felt as if he was about to make a move. Optimus gritted his teeth and held steady, tightening his grip on Megatron’s throat.

“OPTIMUS, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!”

Ratchet sounded on the verge of tears, practically shrieking at his partner.

He realized in an instant what exactly Megatron had meant before.

///

Every wound made itself known, throbbing with pain. Megatron could barely move.

Yet victory buzzed through every cell in his body, giving him just enough strength to carry out the last step to complete his grand plan to end it all.

Farewell, Orion. Ironic that it was your uncontrolled emotions that led to your downfall.

Optimus, fist raised, opened his mouth to ask again. Megatron suddenly let loose a surge of strength, pushing up and thrusting his legs under his opponent’s torso and kicking outwards. Optimus’s blue optics widened with shock and he uttered a short cry as he was thrown a few feet across the clearing.

He landed and instantly got to his feet again, activating his battlemask.

The Prime stared for a moment at the odd scene before him.

Megatron stood—albeit shakily—and began to back away, pulling Ratchet with him. No vehicon stragglers were in sight, and even more odd…the rain had begun to let up just a little.

Soft rays of sunlight began to show through the clouds. His mind drifting, Optimus turned slowly to gaze up at the clouds. He was met with the huge mass of metal and a blast of air and sound.

It was the Nemesis. A huge canon under the ship readjusted itself with an audible whirring noise.

“NOW, SOUNDWAVE!!”

“OPTIMUS, RUN!!!!!!”

Ratchet….I’m sorry I failed you….

In the time of a split second, the world around Optimus lit up in a brilliant, blaring flash, and a deafening explosion filled the air.

Never before had murder seemed so ethereal.

///

“Ratchet?”

No response.

“Ratchet..?”

Nothing.

“RATCHET!!” Miko tried, her loud voice jolting the medic out of whatever trance he’d been in moments before. He turned slowly from staring at his screen, a dead-looking gaze meeting the children’s.

“Do you…need something, Miko? Rafael?”

“Oh—well, it’s uhm….it’s nothing….I’ll let you get back to work…” Raf mumbled, suddenly sounding nervous as he fumbled to hide the object he’d been holding. Miko rolled her eyes.

“After all the work I did to get his attention!” She followed her friend back to the lounge area. Ratchet watched them, not really processing what they were doing. He then turned back to his task.

What was I doing again?

“Hey, Ratchet,” Bulkhead greeted, coming from the hallway. “How’s your, uh…data surfing going?”

Right.

“Very well. I am nearly finished with three of the four sectors I was to organize today,” Ratchet heard his voice respond.

He looked up to see Bulkhead staring at him, eyes rounded with concern and worry. However the moment he raised his head to see him, he switched his expression to a normal, casual one.

It was fine if he did that, Ratchet thought to himself. Everyone had been doing it for the last two months now, anyway.

“Well…that sounds good! A-anyway, I’m gonna…go for a drive…” he responded, sounding awkward. Ratchet nodded an acknowledgement and turned back around. Feeling guilty, Bulkhead looked as if he wanted to say more.

But he knew better than to bring up what it was they were both still thinking about.

He turned and transformed, then left. Meanwhile, Ratchet tapped at the screen, barely thinking about what he was actually doing.

Some small part of him wished for a warm touch on his shoulder as he was finishing up.

A warm, baritone voice to calmly whisper, “Good work today, my love. Come, rest with me in my quarters.”

It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault….there was nothing you could do!

His mind repeated what the others had gently murmured over and over on that day and every day after.

But it was…

He heard the small voice protest. He clenched his fist and locked his jaw.

It’s not your fault, Ratchet. You didn’t kill him!

The medic felt a lump in his throat. With all his might, he swallowed it, controlling himself.

But I did…I killed him.

“Ratchet?”

Jack. It was Jack’s voice.

Ratchet felt his arm quivering, his gaze and body frozen in one place, as if someone had hit the pause button on him.

“Yes?” Everything felt distant now. He felt his arm drop and his head turn to stare at the small human teenager.

“So…how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Oh…well, it’s raining cats and dogs out there!” He joked, pointing at his shirt. “I got a little of it..”

“You did?”

“Yep. Might wanna tell Bulkhead to be careful on the roads, right?”

“Right.”

“Right…so, I guess I’ll leave you alone, then…” Jack backed away, saying something to Miko and Raf as he neared the couch and TV.

All of a sudden, Ratchet was aware of how cold his shoulder felt.

///

HNNNN THIS PIECE OF GARBAGE O///O’’ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AT AA >///< Sorry, I know I’m not good at angst. But I wanted to write this anyway.....

If you like, listening to this for the last 2-3 parts of the story might....set the mood better..? Idk. For me, I heard that recording and instantly felt my heart twist. And had this idea. So.....^^’’ (yes, I know about this piece btw I just like the slowed version because,,,aesthetic,,,,jsjdsjsd)

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely eveing/day/whatever time it is where you are!! <3

Feedback, likes, reblogs, and all that stuff is always welcome!! ^///^

// Kuni out :’3 //

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aqua-the-smiter · 3 years

Text

Wind Guide You

Chapter 2 - The Runaway

Arcee was just out for a walk. That’s all.

Why couldn’t she ever catch a break?

Her peds crunched along the gravelly ground and her servos were clasped behind her back as she slowly trudged forward, going nowhere in particular, just out to clear her processor. The land was barren and surrounded by cliffs and ridges, and the sky was overcast, swathed in a blanket of grey clouds that took away most of the shadows. It was calm if a bit gloomy, and the wind whispered over the ground, occasionally flicking pebbles.

The two-wheeler guessed it was just one of those days where everything was dull and a bit slow. She could tell some of the other ‘bots felt it as well, and seeing as there were no present emergencies to tend to, she’d come out here. Partially for some peace, partially just because she wanted to be alone, and (though she’d never admit it out loud) she still felt a need deep in her spark to silently mourn Cliffjumper.

Maybe it was silly. Maybe she should have gotten over it by now. She had, somewhat, but something in her still ached everything she thought of him. Thus, she took small chunks of her time every day to grieve, and it slowly minimized her pain by degrees, bit by bit. It helped.

What didn’t, however, was finding a Decepticon passed out among the stones.

“What in the Pit? ” Arcee asked herself out loud, staring down at the dull silver chassis of Megatron’s right servo bot.

Starscream.

At first she thought he was dead. He was lying as still as the rocks he was surrounded by, but as she watched him, she noticed like bits of movement: a wing flicking, a digit scraping, a ped twitching. No, he was still among the living, unfortunately.

She stood frozen, staring at the motionless form of the seeker, the very ‘Con who had murdered the bot she was out here mourning. Her spark clenched in anger, and she let one of her servos turn into a blaster before backing up and lowering her arm, trying to calm herself. It would be stupid to just shoot him right off the bat.

Think, Arcee.

Primus, she wanted to just shoot him in the faceplates and be done with it. He was the reason Cliff was gone, and he’d put them through so much grief besides that, both on Earth and off. Her spark seethed, even the small bit of pity she held for him not enough to quench her desire to pay him the same mercy he’d paid Cliff; that meant none at all.

She took a better look at him. He looked...ragged. Worn out, like he’d been flying solo for a while, the kind of wear that couldn’t be faked. Her optics widened when they landed on his chest plate. The Decepticon insignia was gone, and in its place were scratches. She thought hard. How long ago had their last battle with the ‘Cons been?

Somehow, by some miracle, Starscream had defected between the aftermath of then and now. What else could it be? Maybe a trap, but something like this wasn’t Megatron’s style. Sure, he could’ve been kicked out, but if he had been, most likely, if she even found him, he’d be a corpse. He decidedly was not that.

She sat next to his still chassis, thinking. What to do with a possibility renegade ‘con? Primus, her luck was shoddy.

She was oblivious to how long she’d been there, feeling the cold breeze over her chassis, listening to it howl between the empty places in the rocks. Starscream did nothing more than twitch.

What to do, what to do?

It would be easiest to just terminate his aft right there, pull the thorn that was him out of their collective sides right away. Nearly all of her wanted to, and yet...that little drop of pity still yanked at the edge of her processor. She didn’t know exactly why, but something about the ‘Con just made her feel bad for him. Maybe it was the desperate way he vied for Megatron’s favor, maybe it was the fact he was always getting whacked in the ankles every time something was going right, or maybe it was just that he was excellent at making that particular sad face. There was something just...pathetic about him, and she granted him a bit of mercy for it.

Wait…

Call Prime. Of course, the simplest solutions were often the best, and she berated herself for not having thought of it sooner. It should have been the first thing that sprung to mind.

Maybe she was still much angrier about Cliffjumper than she thought.

-Optimus, it’s Arcee.- she said over her comms.

-We were just starting to get worried about you.- came the reply of his usual firm but kind tone. -Where have you been for so long?-

-Like I said, just out for a walk. You’ll never believe who I found.- she baited, her voice unintentionally taking on the same excited tone as Miko’s whenever Wheeljack came around.

-Did you run into trouble? If you've found an energon mine, come back, don’t try and clear it yourself.- Prime warned, sounding for all the worlds like a gently chiding father.

-That was one time , I’m fine. I didn’t go out looking for trouble, it found me, in the form of Starscream. He’s recharging on the ground right next to me, all dinged up. What do you want me to do with him?- she asked, getting straight to the point, and trying not to sound too willing to offline him.

-Starscream?- The Prime paused, just a little bit alarmed -Are you sure he’s alone? Is there anything off about him?-

-He scratched his insignia off his chest. Just a bunch of claw marks there now. It looks like he’s defected. He’s definitely still alive.- Arcee confirmed.

-Scratched the insignia off his chest.- Optimus repeated slowly, the gears in his processor whirling. That sounded like a sure sign of defection. Was it too much to hope for? He has long since seen potential in bringing Starscream over to the Autobots, and now might be his chance. -Give me your coordinates and wait there with him. I’ll meet you there.-

-Personally?- Arcee asked in surprise. -Are you sure?-

-I’m sure. Don’t worry, I won’t come alone.-

-Alright.- She relented, berating herself. This was Optimus Prime. There was nothing to worry about.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The familiar green spirals of the groundbridge gave way to the figures of Prime, Ratchet and Bulkhead. Arcee rose to her peds when she saw them, raising an arm in greeting. Starscream still rested next to her, optics firmly offlined. She resisted the urge to give him a swift kick and ran over to her comrades.

“Hey ‘Cee!” Bulkhead called to her. “Where’d you dig up Screamer?”

“He was on the floor when I got here.” Arcee replied, hands on her hips as the four of them made their way over to the recharging seeker. She nudged him with the toe of her ped as the others looked on. “And if you’ll look to your right you’ll see the Decepticon’s possible ex-commander, passed out cold.” she gestured to him with a servo.

“He looks like a Predacon chewed him.” Ratchet said, eyeing him warily. “Probably been on his own for a while now. Almost definitely has an energon deficiency.”

“You can tell all that from looking at him?” Arcee questioned, raising an optic ridge.

“More or less. I’ve been at this for a long time, you know.” Ratchet said, his tone implying a lecture if this conversation kept rolling

“So...what are we going to do with him? We can’t just leave old Screamer here, can we?” Bulkhead asked.

“Who says we can’t?” Arcee spat. “If we take him with us, he becomes even more of our problem then he already is.”

“We’re not leaving him.” Optimus interjected, his voice having an air of finality.

“Why?!” Arcee exclaimed, failing to tamp down her anger. “What could we possibly do with Starscream of all bots?!”

Optimus gave her one of his looks that could possibly make even Unicron himself feel guilty. “We could help him, make him one of us. Show him the mercy he was never granted from Megatron.”

“And that he never granted Cliffjumper!”

“If we pull him to us, he’ll never be in a position to do what he did to Cliffjumper again.” he replied coolly. Arcee said nothing, just crossed her arms and turned away.

There was no argument after that. Optimus was determined, and he made a good point. They brought Starscream to the base, dragging him home like an abandoned kitten found on the side of the road.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starscream’s red optics flew open and were greeted to complete darkness and silence. He felt strange, and it took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t hallucinating or shaking from energon starvation anymore. That should have been comforting, but it only shot him through with fear. Someone had gone through some effort to take care of him. Had Megatron found him? Was he back in the belly of the Pit that was the Nemesis?

His head whipped back and forth trying to get some kind of grip on his surroundings but it was black as pitch. He tried to sit up, but his wrists and ankles were tied down to the berth. Megatron must have found him when he collapsed, there was no other explanation. He was probably thinking up some new, horrifically creative way to ensure his loyalty, or wanted him for some nightmarish way to end his life. His spark was hammering inside it’s chamber.

His bonds wouldn’t break no matter how hard he strained at them, but that could possibly be because he was too weakened after so much time alone and with no energon. He felt his optics well up with washer fluid as his spark pounded, so loud in his audials he would’ve sworn anyone outside this...place could hear it writhing in his chest as he started to shake and quiver.

An audial-splitting shriek tore from his voice box as he tried to tear free of his bonds, his back arching as he struggled.

He couldn’t do this again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #transformers prime #tfp #tfp arcee #tfp starscream

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

Text

spoilers for chapter 1 of war for cybertron: siege!

title: Battle Suit

characters: Minimus Ambus, Soundblaster, background Buzzsaw

warnings: canon typical violence, s1 spoilers, planned corpse desecration, elements of IDW transformers, brief mentions of cannibalism, post-canon

summary: Minimus Ambus tries to sell a dead mech.

ao3 link in the notes!

Minimus arrived at the compound late enough that Soundblaster had finished his posturing and moved on to his seemingly favorite pastime: learning.

Minimus tapped the controls on his maglev-cart, directing it to remain in place as he waited for Soundblaster to finish whatever datapad had caught his attention. He hadn’t been around to see his reaction to another scavenger calling his thirst for knowledge typical Soundwave, but he had arrived quickly enough to siphon the last dregs of the unfortunate ‘bot’s innermost energon. There wasn’t even a stain on the floor to mark the spot where the bot had died.

He wondered when things like that had stopped bothering him.

He tapped his foot, scanning the number of guards and hangers-on milling about the compound. Considering the lateness of the hour, there were far more than usual—but taking into account Soundblaster’s domain had quickly become the only place on this side of Cybertron with a semi-functional communications network, Minimus supposed he understood. Bots had to get their reruns of old shows somewhere.

Besides. It was getting harder and harder to slip into Decepticon territory—each and every time he made the trek, Minimus was grateful for both his small stature and red optics. Despite that, Minimus suspected that with their recent victory, it would slowly become near-impossible to slip in and out undetected as the Decepticons began to establish greater control over Cybertron. He hoped what he had brought today would be enough to delay another trip for a few cycles—at a minimum.

“Minimus Ambus,” Soundblaster said, peering over his datapad, and Minimus nearly winced—no one had referred to him as Ambus since before the beginning of the war. Apparently, whatever Soundblaster had been reading mentioned his full name. Minimus wondered if it was an old copy of the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy. “And Ultra Magnus.”

Minimus didn’t bother looking at the broken armor piled in his cart.

“Twelve-point-five tons of scrap metal,” Minimus said. “Plus half a kilo of salvageable protometal.”

“Interesting.” Soundblaster set the datapad aside and leaned forward. Minimus had to fight the urge to take a step back—at this distance, Soundblaster was downright unnerving. “Where did you find him?”

“Decepticon territory.” Minimus neatly clipped out the fact that the frame had been found right outside Shockwave’s main laboratory.

Soundblaster hummed noncommittally. Buzzsaw chirped. Minimus found his gaze drawn towards the avian cassette—he had heard rumors about Buzzsaw’s particular brand of art. The mech had been commissioned to paint the fabled portraits in the Decepticon stronghold, but Buzzsaw’s passion—his true passion—was what he referred to as ‘mixed media’.

Maybe if Soundblaster wasn’t interested in the body, Buzzsaw would be.

“Not interested.” Soundblaster picked up a new datapad and handed it to Minimus, who tore his gaze away from Buzzsaw to take in the list of the week’s top-paying salvage. It was mostly long-range weaponry, paying the regular rate of a cube per ten kilos plus an extra half cube for every intact heavy-duty blaster. “With the Decepticon’s victory over the Autobots, we’ll be needing all the heavy artillery you can find.”

“Surely the Decepticons won’t be moving in on your territory so soon.” Minimus said it before he could help himself—breaking his first self-imposed rule of dealing with Soundblaster: don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself. “They have the rest of the planet to conquer before bothering themselves with you.”

“They are leaving.”

Minimus looked up. Soundblaster’s face was unreadable as always, but Minimus thought he sensed the faintest hint of…discomfort? Disgust?

The not-Decepticon settled back into his seat and picked up another datapad. “Megatron will be seeking the Allspark,” Soundblaster said. “He will be leaving the minimum amount of soldiers needed to secure the planet—and that is when we will make our move.”

“‘Our’?”

Soundblaster didn’t seem to notice. Minimus refrained from questioning the sense—or logistics—of trying to sieze control of the planet at this time. It wasn’t his place, and he had already said his piece.

Besides, he doubted Soundblaster would actually listen.

“I would see about finding yourself some armor upgrades,” Soundblaster said. “Or a bodyguard, if you can afford one.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Minimus didn’t ask how Soundblaster knew the Decepticon’s plans. If he had to guess, he would theorize that the mech had a better understanding of Soundwave and Shockwave—and by extension, the Decepticons as a whole—than he would ever admit.

It was also possible that Soundblaster simply had his fingers in as many datastreams as his template. And with the sudden destruction of the interplanetary comms network, it was very likely the mech knew more than Soundwave.

Either way, Minimus would trust Soundblaster’s intuition—as much as a mech could trust Soundblaster, at least.

Soundblaster nodded in the corpse’s direction. “Did you know him?”

“By reputation only.” As a military commander, Ultra Magnus had been so far above him in the striata of prewar Cybertron Minimus had never dreamt of meeting the mech—much less hauling his corpse around in hopes of getting some energon for the next cycle. “Why?”

“Hm.” Soundblaster looked back at Minimus. “Curiosity.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Minimus shifted in place and resisted the urge to make his way towards the exit. He had no desire to embroil himself in Soundblaster’s quest for self-idealization as the mech tried to catch up on a few million years of Cybertronian history and culture.

But Soundblaster didn’t pry further, and Minimus vented a sigh of relief as he made his excuses and directed the cart to follow. It gave out a single, mournful wail, then complied. Its AI was rudimentary at best, but considering his size relative to the amount of salvage a bot was expected to wrangle to survive, it was worth it.

Minimus left the compound, trying not to look at a group of mechs clustered around a recently-offlined bot. He was hungry, but his tanks weren’t empty enough to give more than a passing thought to trying to butt his way in for a mere sip of energon.

His dwelling was on the outskirts of Soundblaster’s territory—far enough from the main bunker that overcharged or desperate mechs rarely bothered him, close enough that there hadn’t been an Autobot-Decepticon skirmish on his street for a century or two. The entrance was more than wide enough to accommodate the cart, but the mech—Ultra Magnus—’s corpse very nearly scraped the top of the doorframe.

Minimus made his way to the makeshift energon dispenser. His rations wouldn’t last much longer—he would need to either dump this body or find some way to repurpose it quickly. Buzzsaw hadn’t followed him either, which meant he definitely wan’t interested.

He sipped the tasteless, gritty energon. Soundblaster’s advice drifted to the front of his processor. He didn’t have nearly enough energon or shanix to afford a bodyguard. That left upgrades.

His gaze was drawn to the armor. His plating crawled at the idea of it, but the damage was easily fixable. With some reinforcement to the chassis, plus a few gyroscopic modifications allowing him to manipulate it from the inside…

It was doable, easily within his abilities. If he started on it immediately, he would be able to finish it before the cycle was finished. More than that, it would be safe.

Safety was in rare supply these days.

Minimus just wasn’t sure he wanted to do it. But it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, was it? If Soundblaster didn’t make his move, the Decepticons remaining on the planet would. And if Soundblaster was wrong, the might of the Decepticon army would be showing up in this neighborhood sooner rather than later.

Minimus swallowed his disgust along with the last of the energon and tossed the cube into the disposal.

Then he grabbed his tools and got to work.

#transformers #maccadam #war for cybertron #wfc siege #wfc siege spoilers #wfc trilogy #minimus ambus #ultra magnus #mine;#transformers siege #soundblaster

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nonbinarybrainstorm · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can you write some nsfw Starscream x Soundwave (G1/IDW)? I just would like to see more StarSound :3

I don’t think you realize what you’ve done. This wasn’t supposed to get this out of hand. I guess it was just time for me to go completely insane and write almost 4000 words for a request. Sure. Why not?

This is definitely porn WITH plot

Not the healthiest relationship dynamic but it is all consensual

And I kill off Megtron????

idk man this shit it wild

Oh yeah also

Additional Content: marking, love triangle, jealousy, wall sex, oral, power dynamics

It’s a game he likes to play. The looks, the teases, the false gestures of affection all behind closed doors. It all collects and concentrates into a carefully laid trap laced with sweetened energon and intoxicating scents that draw in those even with the strongest of wills. Soundwave knows this, is all too aware of this and yet he still finds himself falling all the same with all of it made worse by the fact that he knows that he’s just bait, bait to catch bigger, better prey. The scuff marks and paint transfers that don’t quite buff out, left there on purpose to be seen so that rumor will run rampant through the ranks to eventually reach the desired target. When Starscream flashes him a knowing look, all lust and ill-meaning mirth like he’s in on the joke but it isn’t for him, it’s so that his target will see and clench his fists in what he believes is a subtle gesture of aggravation. Then, there are the lingering touches that only linger when his target is in full view. No matter what happens, it’s all to catch Megatron.

Each mark made on Soundwave’s frame is superficial, impermanent, etched onto him by delicate talons and fangs scratching and piercing the metal of his armor, of his fuel lines. They can be easily removed with time, a buff and an extra coat of paint, and small patches but even so, days or even months after, they continue to burn into his sensornet, claiming him piece by piece. It’s like a kind of insanity, the kind where he could swear he could still see them like microscopic cracks in a mirror refracting the light to mar the image. They’re only ever made behind closed doors in the darkest corners of ships and bases where no one can find them, only ever to be revealed in the aftermath of Starscream’s careful destruction. In those moments, the most addictive part has to be how honest Starscream becomes amidst the throws of pleasure, open and vulnerable as he mumbles words filled with true desires and needs. When Starscream looks at Soundwave with burning red optics that cut through the darkness filled with lust, for a moment, Soundwave feels truly wanted. The goal is to enthrall and ensnare, in order to make himself more desirable and yet, at the same time, less obtainable.

Starscream whispers sweet words of promised power but Soundwave doesn’t hear them as Starscream drags him away with the tips of his fingers barely holding onto Soundwave’s arm. When Soundwave pushes him against the wall Starscream’s already running hot from the excitement of pulling him once again to further solidify his hold over Soundwave. It’s almost painful, the blooming of warmth in Soundwave’s spark that springs to life as Starscream chuckles against his audial. He tries to push the feeling away as he lifts Starscream by his legs, spreading them apart so he can stand between them, sucking in a sharp vent at how hot Starscream’s interface panel feels. Moving Starscream’s knees up, Soundwave’s all but folded Starscream in half and Starscream presses his talons in excitement into Soundwave’s back while letting his valve cover release. Soundwave almost feels humiliated how fast he pressurizes but the feeling is quickly squashed by the soft whimpers Starscream makes when Soundwave’s spike pushes against his folds. Starscream reaches down and presses the head of Soundwave’s spike against his entrance and gives it a squeeze, his optics darkening as a low, needy sound escapes Soundwave’s intake. Getting the hint, Soundwave pushes in, his hands tensing over Stascream’s legs as the feeling of Starscream’s hot valve overwhelms him.

The power he has over Starscream is an illusion. Even now, pressed against the wall with a spike hilted in his valve, Starscream holds all the cards, manipulating Soundwave with ease with soft sounds and affectionate touches. Soundwave rocks slowly into Starscream to draw out more of those lovely sounds, his helm pressed against Starscream’s so he can watch Starscream’s optics flicker. They’ve done this enough now for him to know that Starscream’s optics are his greatest tell. Starscream squirms as much as he can in this position, his spike rubbing against Soundwave’s pelvic plating, the motion lets Soundwave sink just that much deeper making Starscream gasp and moan. Soundwave’s hips twitch involuntarily at the sound and the wicked smile that forms on Starscream’s face makes him lose all sense of control and he begins thrusting hard into the wet heat of Starscream’s valve. Holding on for dear life, Starscream leaves scratches in Soundwave’s paint but it’s careful, controlled, calculated. Growling low in frustration, Soundwave speeds up his thrusts, desperately trying to get Starscream to lose himself, to lose his awareness but all he gets is that knowing smile and a wicked look.

Giving in to the feeling and giving up the fight, Soundwave shutters his optics and just lets himself feel Starscream around him and in his hands. A soft touch to his faceplate snaps his attention back and he feels Starscream undo the latches of his faceplate making him choke on his words. He’s always kept his faceplate on, he’s never let himself cross that line but now cold air is rushing over his exposed face and the clatter of his faceplate hitting the floor fills the air. The sound makes Soundwave stall which only serves as an opening for Starscream to pull him in and kiss him. Soft lip plates part Soundwave’s with ease and so sweetly making it almost feel like that this was real, that this was truly his. He can feel Starscream’s sharp fangs against his glossa and taste the bismuth additives he loves so much on his glossa. Soundwave pushes into Starscream but now he’s not desperate to push Starscream to the edge, his spike moves in and out of Starscream’s swollen valve with ease in an almost lazy rhythm that’s in time with their kiss. As always, Starscream knows exactly what he’s doing.

Soundwave doesn’t stop kissing him, feeling as though if he did he might not ever get the opportunity to again. Starscream gasps into the kiss as Soundwave rolls his hips to grind his spike into Starscream’s dripping valve. With a sharp buck of his hips, Soundwave roughly seats his spike into Starscream, startling him out of the kiss into a soft cry. He can see how Starscream’s optics are flaring at the edges, the tell-tale sign that he’s close to overload. Watching with dull optics, Soundwave thrusts in quickly then drags his spike slowly out of Starscream once… twice… Then something peaks in Starscream and he’s overloading on Soundwave’s spike with a broken cry, holding on tightly to Soundwave as his overload courses through him, peaks of charge running over his frame bringing Soundwave closer to the edge.

Starscream vents hard as he calms down, his cooling fans blasting in the air as he looks at Soundwave with hooded optics and whispers in a broken voice, “Soundwave…”

As if on command, Soundwave overloads then and there, spilling hot transfluid into Starscream and losing his footing so they slide down the wall to the floor as his whole frame quakes with charge. He vents in air like his life depends on it as he regains his senses and sees Starscream watching him carefully. Processor blank and hazy from post-overload, he doesn’t think as he leans in and captures Starscream’s lips in his own again, struck with the unyielding need to have Starscream as close as can be. Starscream doesn’t push him away, in fact, he pulls Soundwave closer still and takes on of Soundwave’s lip plates to bite it hard enough to draw energon earning a gasp from Soundwave. Pulling back, Soundwave touches his mouth and looks at his hand to see the bright pink energon clashing against his plating then looks back to see Starscream licking energon from his lips as though he was savoring the taste. Starscream’s hold returns Soundwave’s helm and he’s dragging his glossa over Soundwave’s broken lip, soothing and cleaning the wound, the gesture making Soundwave’s spark whirl in his chest. Then, it’s over.

“I would love to go for another round,” Starscream purrs, “but you have a meeting to get to.”

Right, a meeting that Soundwave didn’t have enough time to get properly cleaned up for so evidence of what they’ve done will linger and he was, of course, meant to “forget” his mask. Without so much as a sound, Soundwave pulls away from Starscream and retrieves a few rags from his subspace to clean them as well as he could in this instance. Once done, he throws the rags away to get rid of the evidence that he cared enough to bring rags at all, that he had been expecting this, that he had been looking forward to this. Starscream pulls out energon and they drink it quickly before disposing of the cubes. Soundwave starts to leave knowing that if he left now he’d have enough time to at least wash off the smell of Starscream off of him. he’d already made the mistake once of recharging with that now all far too familiar scent of expensive polish, the imported soap he uses, and the underlying bronzy scent that is just uniquely Starscream. However, something stops him at the door and he looks back at Starscream and -finally- he asks the question he’s so dreaded since these trysts became something more to him.

“Why do you want Megatron?” Soundwave calls over to Starscream, his hand clenching the automatic door almost hard enough to dent it but on the surface, he knows he looks perfectly composed. That is, to anyone but Starscream.

Starscream tilts his head and rests one hand under his chin, “I don’t think I quite understand the question… Elaborate?”

“Do you want Megatron so you can have Megatron,” Soundwave drones, pausing halfway through to release his grip on the door, “or do you want Megatron for the sake of the power he can grant you.”

Starscream smiles at that, his optics flashing with sinister intent.

“What a silly question. For you see…” Starscream saunters over to Soundwave, lays one hand on his chest, and whispers, “Megatron is power and you’re going to get him for me.”

Soundwave clenches his fists, “I can’t promise you that it’ll be in one piece.”

Starscream recoils somewhat at that, studying Soundwave carefully, “Are you referring to Megatron or myself? I thought you were a good and loyal Decepticon, Soundwave. I could never imagine you actually harming Megatron.”

“So you could imagine me harming you?” Soundwave asks before he can think better of it and bites his glossa as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Starscream’s expression darkens as he mutters, “You know the answer to that. There’s not a single Decepticon on this ship who wouldn’t do away with me for the sake of rising in rank or power.”

“Including Megatron?” Soundwave hisses and Starscream’s frame tenses for a brief moment but he looks back to Soundwave with his fakest smile.

“Of course, nothing can stand in his way.”

Soundwave leaves without another word after hearing that, rage, the likes of which he’s never known, begins burning in his spark as he charges through the halls. Once in his quarters, he makes a beeline for his personal washracks and turns the lever all the way to let the frigid solvent pour over his frame to cool his anger. Slowly, his anger dies down and he sinks to his knees as unwarranted images assault his mind. The depiction of Starscream’s broken, graying frame flashes behind his optics and a sob tears from his intake but he stops himself short. He doesn’t have the time to mourn a future that hasn’t come to pass. So, he stands up and quickly finishes washing himself off and dries off before going to the meeting.

As expected, Megatron knows what happened from just one look at Soundwave, that’s the point after all. One piece particularly interests Megatron: his injured lip. The injury is still apparently fresh and intentional to anyone with optics and despite all the other evidence, it’s his mouth that Megatron keeps returning his attention to. As always, Megatron is about as subtle as a mountain range but even so, he is the Lord of the Decepticons and, therefore, held all the cards in his hand. This is part of the game, the tug and pull of hatred and infatuation between the warlord and his second-in-command while Soundwave stands as nothing more than a pawn. At first, it had been easy to just be a piece in the game they played. He even considered it a useful strategy to maneuver himself into a position where he could better monitor the situation so that neither party died from their fatal courtship. How truly and utterly wrong he had been.

The meeting ends and he can feel Megatron’s optics trailing him as he leaves.

Soundwave walks through the halls during the night shift towards Starscream’s quarters to reclaim his faceplate all the while dreading seeing the seeker again while wanting nothing more. His slow gate takes him past the war room and a soft noise catches his attention. Quietly, he approaches the door and tweaks the lock so the door will open to just a slit, enough for him to see through. Bright light hits his optic making him wince and adjust his settings so he can see clearly what’s going on on the other side. What he sees makes his fuel lines run cold. Starscream bent over the table with Megatron ramming into him from behind with muted grunts. With his talons digging into the table beneath him, Starscream looks completely blissed out as Megatron’s thick spike stretches him with thrusts strong enough to rock the metal table. As Starscream is about to cry out, Megatron’s large hand covers his mouth, keeping the sound from becoming anything more than muffled moans.

“Quiet now,” Megatron hushes Starscream in a low voice, making the seeker shiver, “we can’t have anyone hearing us now.”

Soundwave stumbles away from the door, unable to take any more of it, feeling like he wanted to purge. He forgets his faceplate and returns to his quarters to fall into his berth, unable to truly process his feelings towards what he just saw. How could have let things become so complicated for himself? When did his loyalty get twisted? When had his fleeting interest turned into infatuation? Everything had been clear when he had first joined the Decepticons and his motivations had been absolute or so he thought. Now everything was muddied and it was all his fault for thinking that he was infallible or without any other desire. A void he had not known was there has been filled so completely he doesn’t know what he’ll do once he will be deprived of that sense of completion. Never did he think he would hate Megatron so much. So, just like that, a horrible plan forms in Soundwave’s mind that makes him feel like he’s losing himself but he knows that there is no other action he’d rather take.

The Autobots come in the numbers and formation they had been expecting, the fleet floating towards them in all their garish glory. Megatron, of course, is leading the brunt of the attack because there was no other place he would be. Soundwave stands on the observation deck with Starscream and several other Decepticon officers to watch the oncoming battle and to stand by in case the Autobots pulled out a secret weapon or some other foolhardy strategy. Soundwave tenses his hands and waits with his spark thrumming in his chest in anticipation as the ships get within firing range. A hand lands on Soundwave’s arm and he looks to find Starscream with a rather smug expression.

“Relax, Soundwave,” Starscream pats Soundwave’s arm as he drawls, “Victory is assured.”

Soundwave looks back out the viewport and nods as the ships begin firing and tangling with each other, “You’re right…”

He opens a part of his arm to a command panel to view file he’d been keeping on hold this entire time, “Victory is assured.”

With the press of one button, the virus is transmitted and one by one, the ships before them burst apart in violent explosions, sending debris from the destroyed Decepticon ships into those owned by the Autobots. A chain reaction occurs and all within the span of a few minutes, all ships Decepticon and Autobot alike are destroyed. Soundwave turns back to the officers in the room, looking at no one but Starscream. The room is quiet and still, the shock from what just happened heavy in the air. Starscream’s wide optics lock with Soundwave’s and that’s when Soundwave kneels before him and lowers his helm.

“All hail Lord Starscream,” he says calmly, the words falling with ease from his uncovered lips.

The other officers fall to their knees to follow suit and declare their new loyalties to the former second-in-command. Amidst the chaos of the shift in power and celebration of their costly victory, Starscream pulls Soundwave to his feet and drags him from the room. Soundwave lets himself be lead through the halls to Starscream’s brightly lit quarters and doesn’t make a move once the door shuts behind them. For a moment, Starscream stays completely still with his back to Soundwave then, slowly, he turns to face Soundwave with his expression perfectly blank.

“Why did you do that?” Starscream’s voice is unsettlingly flat.

“Which part?” Soundwave retorts with the same snideness Starscream would approach such a question.

Starscream’s wings flare out and his optics narrow in anger as he storms towards Soundwave, pushing him against the wall.

“Why did you kill Megatron?” Starscream growls low, his voice taking on a dangerous cadence.

Soundwave looks calmly at Starscream, accepting whatever may come as he replies, “I wanted what he had.”

Starscream scoffs and presses his talons to the back of Soundwave’s neck, “If you want to be warlord you’re going to have to kill me too.”

Soundwave shakes his head, the points of Starscream’s talons pricking the delicate cables there.

“I don’t want his position.”

Starscream falters, undoubtedly seeing the blatant honesty only for it to knock him off guard.

“Then what do you want?”

Soundwave gently pulls Starscream’s hand from the back of his neck and places it against his cheek.

“You,” he whispers.

Starscream pulls away quickly and steps back far enough to stumble into sitting on his berth. Cautiously, Soundwave approaches him and sits next to him, taking Starscream’s hand in his and waits for an answer. Red optics flick towards Soundwave and before he knows it, Soundwave has Starscream straddling him while still holding his hand.

“That couldn’t have been your goal this entire time,” Starscream cups Soundwave’s face as if he were holding a particularly complex puzzle, “Megatron would have seen it coming, I would have seen it coming. This… This isn’t what I expected.”

“This isn’t what I had expected either,” Soundwave confesses and reaches up to rest his hand on the back of Starscream’s helm.

He pulls Starscream into a kiss and is so unbelievably relieved. Starscream pushes him onto his back and grinds against him with desperation, his frame slowly heating up. Soundwave smiles against the kiss and holds Starscream close, wanting to never let him go again.

Starscream pulls away just enough for Soundwave to see his smirk as he says, “So you wanted to be the only one I interface with? Fine, I can work with that.”

Soundwave’s spark drops as Starscream coyly trails his hands over Soundwave’s chest. He holds Starscream’s helm and presses their forehelms together, pleading with his optics as he shakes his head ever so slightly. Starscream stops in confusion and rests his hands against Soundwave’s chest.

“Starscream,” Soundwave says just above his vents, “I love you.”

Starscream’s optics go wide for just a split second and he goes still. It’s just long enough for Soundwave to worry then Starscream is burying his face into the crook of Soundwave’s neck. Sharp fangs pierce the cables there making Soundwave cry out as a bolt of pleasure shocks through him, coursing straight to his array. He flips them over so Starscream is beneath him and when Starscream pulls away from his neck, he kisses the energon from Starscream’s lips, moaning into his mouth. Soundwave reaches between Starscream’s legs and unlatches his valve cover to slip a digit between his folds and rub against his node. Starscream gasps into the kiss as lubricant begins to build at the entrance of his valve and twitches under Soundwave’s touch. Breaking the kiss, Soundwave moves back with Starscream’s hands chasing after him to kneel in front of Starscream where he leans in and slides his gloss through Starscream’s folds until he reaches his node sucks hard. He pushes on, licking and sucking on Starscream’s node, ushered on by the sharp cries Starscream is making and the twitches of Starscream’s legs in his hands.

Soundwave makes a soft noise of confusion when he’s pushed away from the valve in front of him before lips come crashing down on his own. Starscream pulls Soundwave back up, kissing him the entire way until he’s looming over him once again. Flipping them over, Starscream lowers himself on Soundwave’s spike and starts riding him, sucking in a long vent. He moans at the stretch, going slow to feel every ridge Soundwave has on his spike and lets out a shuttering vent when he hilts Soundwave’s spike fully inside of him. Rocking his hips, he grinds against Soundwave’s spike and looks up at him through the haze to see Soundwave watching him with his face slack with pleasure. Starscream kisses Soundwave again and Soundwave feels like he’s falling. Talons dig harshly into his back, making Soundwave moan into the kiss and he flips them over again, feeling like a new build that just can’t sit still and thrusts slowly into Starscream. He looks down at Starscream as he sinks into the heat of his valve and smiles. Delight ignites Soundwave’s spark as Starscream actually blushes, his face going dark with energon.

He rocks slowly into Starscream, watching as Starscream slowly comes undone as lubricant pools beneath his aft. Soundwave kisses Starscream’s flushed face and wraps a hand around Starscream’s spike to stroke in time with his easy thrusts. There was no rush now, no terror that might take Starscream from him so he can tease and wring every soft gasp and swallowed cry from Starscream as he can. Soundwave presses another kiss to Starscream’s face and sighs into the warm, cloudy feeling settling over his frame.

“I love you,” Soundwave murmurs against Starscream’s audial and Starscream tenses before overloading, transfluid seeping over Soundwave’s hand and his valve clenching hard around Soundwave’s spike.

Soundwave stares with awe and affection at Starscream who’s now trying to cover up his embarrassment, shielding his face with one arm.

“Well?” Starscream pants and Soundwave blinks in confusion, optics turn to glare without the usual venom at him, “Overload inside me already.”

Soundwave gasps and begins thrusting again. Seeing Starscream like this, flushed and flustered was more than he could dream of and so it doesn’t take long for him to follow Starscream. He fills Starscream with transfluid, feeling warmer and more sated than he ever has before and sighs into Starscream’s neck. Starscream wraps his arms and legs tightly around Soundwave to keep him firmly in place and, frankly, Soundwave couldn’t complain.

“I can’t promise you love,” Starscream whispers against Soundwave’s audial and Soundwave lets a solemn kind of acceptance wash over him but then Starscream adds, “but I can promise to try.”

Soundwave smiles and gathers Starscream up to position them more comfortably on the berth and they fall into deep recharge together in each other’s arms.

#valveplug #starscream #soundwave #starsound #nubbs writes #Anonymous

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autobuttonsanddeceptistitches · 4 years

Text

Viper’s Vengeance Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I am happy to announce that I am returning to writing once again! This story in particular is one I’ve been looking forward to posting. I’d like to give credit to EngineerHoist, a person on YouTube who did a live reading of the first two paragraphs of this story. Without his reading, I wouldn’t have the motivation to continue writing the rest of this chapter and figure out ideas for the future ones to come. Here’s the reading itself alongside the two paragraphs to follow along.

...

A pure black visor stared at the acid green flames dancing higher and higher above the fallen Cobra base. His acid gun slipped down worn fingers, Viper's knees gave way to the course sand surface. Wings lowered and bullet ridden. Spent a whole day, by himself getting rid of his creators. Humans, they've done nothing but cause chaos in his life. Memories racing in his head. Torment, lobotomy, neglect. They're dead, all of them. The red symbol he detests on his wings, the first born human made Cybertronian. Meant to be a weapon against other inferior humans. He got up, taking his battered body away from the sea of acid he'd inflicted on the pitiful humans.

The pain overwhelmed him, those tanks, the copters, forced him to land into the sand once again. Tiny grains blowing against ruined true blue paint. Maybe its best to die now, he killed those who brought him to this world, to stifle his life because of a failure, yet, he danced with Decepticons. As he listened to the fire cackling from back at his 'birthplace', a shadow overtook his vision. One with yellow optics; processor trying to bring back any memories of those with yellow. It stung, its always hurt to look through memories due to the lobotomy. Got difficult to remember important things, most assumed short term memory loss that Shockwave didn't bother to look through. Maybe if he does survive this pit he'll force that lazy scientist to help. For now, this mysterious fellow seemed to be helping him out. Other colors became recognizable. Nightbird...

His processor kept repeating the same visions. A record player of rotating screams of torment. Flesh melting away into the puddles of their creation's tears. Among the fragments is of a human cowering in a corner, his face cut and green jacket torn off. Instead of fear, he scowled.

“I gave you a new life Viper! You can't do this to me when I wasn't involved with what happened! I freed you from your prison!” Luca screamed, shaking his fist up.

“You betrayed the Decepticons, for a few dollars more...” Viper replied, taking aim and letting the green flames come to life... One traitor down, never deserving to wear the silver badge on his jacket.

The agonizing screams started to grow numbing as the malfunctioning processor stopped thinking. Focused on preserving the battered soldier, for his mission is complete at last. Nightbird, the last thought on his mind, wondering why she came. Did Megatron ask the ninja to investigate? Too tired to question, gotta sleep...

Music began to play, the kind that'd be relaxing to whoever took a listen with its keyboards. Optics lit up to the sight of the bright lights meant for surgery. A figure came into vision again, this time, its one with a red visor. Dang it, more faces to identify. At least his bright green paint job helped determine which of the Constructicons this is.

“Well, I thought you wouldn't turn gray because your human made.” Hook smirked, stepping back to grab a few more tools.

“How'd I get here?” Viper tried sitting up, yet pain spiked in his back, forcing him to lie down again.

“Nightbird dragged you in here and told me to get to work. Sounds like you made them all pay. Megatron will be glad to hear the details.” He grabbed one of the wings and began to pluck out the bullets. Viper's servos clenched, wishing he could get up and clobber the mech. Everything's too numb, like something's in his system. It could be either that or armor is still recovering from the trauma.

“Did Megatron ask her to come along?” Optics watched as the boxy helmed mech shook from left to right. His tray piling up with small metal pieces. Other Constructicons began to assist their brother and repair the damaged armor. Hook pulled off the broken black glass, revealing two vibrant blue optics underneath.

“Nope, he didn't order anyone to see your attempts. We thought you would've died. Looks like you're made of sterner stuff.” Viper didn't retort, rest, must rest and wait until he could find that canary and force the answers out of her.

It felt odd to not wear a visor anymore. His once unseen optics inspected the long hallways of the military base. A few Decepticons walked by the broken freak of a soldier. Some glanced by, but others chuckled, giddy that they aren't made by flesh creatures. Viper remained firm as he walked, wings still in pain, but will get repaired another time. Hook and others had to deal with other tarnished things. He's already broken, always been since the failure. All to think about was the silver emotionless face before his processor got torn apart. The former Cobra mech didn't notice the three fingered hand grabbing his shoulder. A great smirk embedded into one's golden face.

“Well done Viper, I enjoy human sacrifices. They were my favorite parts of Aztec history.” The one whose name would send shivers down one's Energon veins. His grin became twisted as a Cheshire Cat's. Viper glanced back, seeing the purple glowing in his vision.

“I don't care Malus, you can interpret it any way you want, but its my story, and I ended it.” Viper tried moving, yet the demigod kept a firm hold.

“Where are you going? Do you believe that I am not worthy for a conversation?” His frown changed as much as a mask for the audience of an opera.

“I want some time to myself. I spent all day fighting for my freedom while you and everyone else sat back and enjoyed my suffering like a show!” Viper's wings flared, even if he's shorter than him, that fire burned in blue optics.

“Your war, not mine.” Oh, if the snake had his acid gun, then there wouldn't be any trace of this rotten fruit anywhere. Who cares if he's the guardian to some shiny balls, none of his business.

“Be lucky I spent all my rage on the humans, rather than you.” He stomped away as Malus scoffed.

“Toodle pip Viper.” Spat out as he transformed into his spider tank alt mode and crawled away.

More faces, the same faces rewinding faster as the figures passed by. Some showing hints of concern, but hidden by their tough attitudes and looks. Viper shrugged each off, not caring if anyone was walking around this morning. Sometimes questions about the ninja, yet none replied. Until he reached up to Swindle with a fist aimed at his face.

“You're the last scumbag I'll ask today, where is Nightbird?” Viper hissed, showing the scars on broken fingers. The mech smirked, trying to cower away from the situation.

“Come on Viper, I know you had one heck of a night, but give me some credit. I didn't sell anything to Cobra,” bam! A fist to the face, letting fresh pain reel in pristine faceplates.

“Say that word again, I could go for another injection of their venom into my veins.” He goaded, before noticing a glimmer of yellow that vanished down the hallway.

“Hey!” The Rattler ran, leaving Swindle to cough up some Energon.

A giant hanger, of all places to hide in. Dark blue came in, broken glass trying to inspect wherever the femme could be. He noticed her shadow among the dim lights. Dancing around old machinery that'd been defunct for a long time. Human made items, Hook would use them for spare parts when needed. Swindle pawning off each piece for big bucks. A flicker of yellow again right beside him. Nightbird, what is she doing? She held up a blade against his neck.

“Sever the cables, and you will do nothing.” She spoke in such stillness that wouldn't alert anyone of her presence. Viper tensed, gripping the yellow weapon and making sure it wouldn't leave its mark.

“I want answers to why you were following me!” He yelled out, flipping the femme over. Nightbird groaned, unable to get up before he pressed his arm onto her neck. His other servo gripped the blade in her hand. They stared, optics burning in the morning sunlight as it crept from tiny windows in the room. Blue and yellow, much like an electric storm.

“Didn't want to continue living?” She whispered, leaning up even when he tried pushing her down.

“My life is over, I have no reason to continue, so why bring me back?” Nightbird looked away.

“We're soldiers, and you're purpose shouldn't end in such a way.” She exhaled, kicking the mech off, Viper stood back up, retaining his balance.

“Then why try killing me if I wanted to say thanks?” Blue optics observed Nightbird's own. A hint of concern behind that bright yellow often coated in anger.

A large hangar door opened, letting Soundwave come in. His armor is much more chunky on the legs and torso. A result from getting kidnapped by Cobra. Red visor caught the attention of the duo, with his cassettes tagging along.

“Viper, our lord Megatrons request to meet with you.” Said in his monotone elegance.

“I'll not keep them waiting, we'll talk about this later.” The Rattler strode away from the short conflict. Soundwave looked at Nightbird, seeing how upset she appeared to be.

“Is something wrong?” The femme shook her helm.

“No, how do you feel about that armor?” She tapped onto his shoulder, feeling the strong materials constructing it.

“It is an inferior version of myself, but I will adjust.” He transformed and let his little minions climb aboard before driving back outside. Nightbird stared, pondering what thoughts are rushing in Viper's processor right now.

Chapter 2

#Transformers #Transformers Earth Wars #Earth Wars #Transformers fanfic #fanfic #TF #Maccadams #Viper #Nightbird #Soundwave #Story #fanfiction #Viper's Vengeance

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endthisfool · 5 years

Text

Dirge Eater

Summary: Getting his claws on one of Brainstorm’s untested inventions leads to Whirl being flung into an universe that isn’t quite ready for someone like him. Back in Jasper, Nevada Team Prime is faced with the task of reeling in the wayward whirlybird, but it won’t be pleasant ride for anyone.

Chapter 2: Coward’s Damnation

Request: Status update. No response. Requesting Report: Mining quadrant C location 6. Distress Signal: Acknowledged. Five klicks pass. No response. This would have to be dealt with.

Dark slender digits remove themselves from their terminal, smoothly coming to rest at the sides of a pair of digitigrade legs. The slim mech turns to face the rest of the bridge, awaiting his leader’s attention. It’s currently preoccupied, vapidly so if Starscream’s...screaming meant anything. It seems Megatron was quite publicly dealing out punishment for another one of his second in command’s foolish assassination attempts. A large chunk of Starscream’s arm, including its mounted weapon, clatters against the TIC’s terminal. He stares at it reproachfully, then nudges it out of his work space with his pede. The scrape of it against the flooring is enough to garner his master’s focus. Frustration bleeds from the hulking con’s frame, and his mood shifts in an instant. He steps toward his TIC calmly, as if he hadn’t just been performing a brutal act of violence on one of his underlings mere moments ago.

“Soundwave, what do you have to report of the energon mines statuses?” Megatron comes to rest a few feet away, respectful of the silent mech’s space. In turn the spymaster flickers on his visor, concisely displaying the current issue of the quadrant C mine. A frown graces his leader’s faceplate, then something cunning flashes in his burning optics. Soundwave had no need to to dip into his processor to sense the plan he was concocting, though for whatever reason something in his tanks gave a sharp twist. “A distress signal, hm?” The silver mech looks over his shoulder, down at the sulking form of his SIC. He smirks ever so slightly, in a way that would normally bring about a content thrum of the spy’s core. “Looks like we’ll have to send someone to investigate, won’t we?”

This was wholly beneath a mech of his caliber. Completely. Disgustingly so. He could still see Megatron’s stupidly smug grin as he gave him the preposterous order to take a squad of vehicons and inspect the mine failing to respond. Like he was needed for something as mundane as that! Idiot drones probably just broke their comm equipment. Starscream huffs, kicking a rock into the area below. It clatters against metal, loud against the odd silence. A mine of all places shouldn’t be silent, but if this mine was doing what it was suppose to then he wouldn’t have been ordered here. At least being here meant he wasn’t having to tolerate that tyrant, and his mute lapdog. The vehicons mill about behind him, awaiting orders. He draws out the wait, inspecting his claws primly, and resolutely refusing to acknowledge the ruined plating of his arms. The dumb warlord didn’t even let him replace his weapons before he was sent off. “What are you waiting for?” Starscream hisses at the drones, shooing them toward the edge of the clearing, where the mine lay below. “Go on, inspect.” They peer down the crevasse, but make no move to go any further. The seeker kicks a cloud of dirt at them impatiently. One vehicon swivels around to face him a bit frantically. “Uh, sir? The guards they’re...” It trails off nervously. Starscream groans at their incompetence, marching forth and pushing them aside. The reason for the mine’s silence becoming quite clear. There’s no-one there. Not a single guard nor miner working below. It’s feverishly still. Drag marks paint the earth in splattered blue trails, each leading straight into the mine’s gaping maw. His instincts screech at him to flee, just to fly back to the Nemesis and face whatever punishment Megatron had in store for him. But he doesn’t. Haughty pride taking precedence over that lingering fear, he would not be cowed by a task for drones. With a dismissive flick of his wings he drops into the crevasse, the vehicons obediently following his lead. He nears the mine’s entrance, unease trickling down his spinal strut. Planting himself in front of it he waves the drones ahead. “Go on.” The squad shares uncertain looks amongst themselves, but nevertheless obey. They drag their pedes as if in line for a firing squad, all tense frames and shaking plating. Then they’re gone, consumed by the depths of the mine, far into that simmering darkness of endless tunnels. Starscream is left alone at the entrance, silence baring its teeth in sharp droves. Time takes its pleasure in passing impossibly slowly. By all means the vehicons should have returned long before now. So with little choice to the contrary, Starscream enters the mine. Inside the air is stagnant with the overpowering reek of energon. It fluffs his plating in an unconscious effort to appear larger. At first he sees bits of wires, and plating littered about like garbage. However the volume of gore increases as he ventures further into the mine, becoming severed limbs, and pools of congealing energon. Nervously slipping past the drone parts, the seeker spots one of his squad idling halfway around the next corner. Starscream masks his relief with ire.“What’s taking you imbeciles so long!?” He stomps toward the vehicon into a much larger cavern of the mine. Unfortunately the vehicon can’t respond, seeing as it’s just a corpse skewered to the wall by one its own arm. The remnants of the rest of his squad are scattered about the room. A few aren’t entirely dead yet, greying frames twitching periodically. One reaches out for help, grasping feebly at his pedes. The pathetic gurgle of its fluid filled vents splashes energon around the remains of its dismembered frame. Purely on habit he kicks the dying drone away from himself, the racket of metal on metal blaring throughout the space. The drone’s heaving attempts at venting end, and the entire cavern is blanketed in an eerie hush. Something from the depths of the mine scrapes out its discontent across the rocks. He should leave now, clearly this operation had failed, there was nothing but spare parts here now. The scraping sound continues. His whole frame feels like it’s been dipped in ice, he can’t seem to get his pedes working. One of the entrances to the cavern bleeds another loud scrape, sending a shudder through the seeker’s plating. Whatever killed the vehicons hadn’t left. Dread curdles in his tanks like an infectious disease. He waits frozen in place as if being still would stave off his fate. A shambling blue monster rounds the corner, dragging the mutilated corpse of a miner with a crushed helm. Macabre golden light is cast in his direction, and the creature halts. It drops the body from its huge pincers with a muted thunk that echos ominously throughout the tunnels. Claws twitch haphazardly in an aborted motion, as if trying to grasp something from the air. A gaping hole in its abdomen drains pink down its gangly legs. It chuckles. Spark beating wildly in his chassis Starscream tries to retreat backward, reaching blindly behind himself for an exit. His servos skitter uselessly against the damning cold metal of a drill. His frantic movements provokes the creature into motion, and it’s on him in an instant. Its mechanoid body slams into him like a dead-weight, toppling him over onto the ground whilst it manages to catch itself on the wall. It staggers from its excessive momentum, ripping a shard of metal from its body and lunging forward. Desperately scrabbling away, Starscream manages to get out of the way when the creature stabs the shard deep into the flooring where he had been. It rears back to its pedes, leaving its makeshift weapon in the earth, and stalks toward him. Something stark red on its chassis stands out in the dim light of its optic valiantly. On most days Starscream would groan at the sight of it, but now floods him with relief. Because this monster was an autobot, and unlike decepticons autobots can be appealed to via their foolish moral codes. Megatron’s second in command holds his servos up in surrender. “Wait wait, I’m unarmed!” Starscream displays the ragged holes where his mounted weapons once were on his arms. “I’m helpless, I surrender.” “Cool.” The sound of those twin guns warming up might as well be deafening. Starscream gapes at the unexpected reaction, his silver-tongue faltering. “B-but you’re an autobot, you’re not suppose to shoot unarmed mechs!” “Yeah but, who’s here to enforce that dumb rule?” Starscream sputters. “Optimus Prime!? Your leader!” The name drop earns a blank stare and a cocked helm. “Is he here? On Earth? This is Earth right? Looks sorta like Swerve’s fantasy of it. Much less exciting. I miss the laugh track.” He pauses, as if expecting something, then gives his leaking frame a disappointed shake. The blue mech continues speaking as if he had never stopped. “Anyway, I was kinda hoping Prime died sacrificing himself to save some scraplets, or something equally heroically idiotic.” It’s safe to say Starscream is dumbfounded by the other mech’s causal death wish on the Prime.

“Are...you sure you’re an autobot?” He’s given an intimate view down the barrels of those twin guns, and hastily tries a different tactic. “No wait! Spare me, I can give you anything you want! Anything!” “Anything...?”

At that the bot tilts his helm in the other direction, sizing up the decepticon with his off putting gaze. Uncharacteristically the seeker finds himself without words, just waiting. The two fliers linger in a tense lull. It crawls past in an agonizing drawl of seconds, unblinking. Unbidden the blue mech’s frame sags as if releasing a deep sigh, his gaze flickering to himself for a moment. He no longer appears as threatening-despite the dried energon all over his frame-just tired. It’s enough of a reaction to brew confidence back into the silver mech’s lines. So he pulls himself back up to his pedes carefully, mentally preparing a speech about the benefits of a partnership. Further assurance comes in the form of a dirty claw dropping onto his shoulder lightly, giving it a companionable squeeze. Starscream fights the urge to slap it away. ‘With this dangerous of a monster on my side I’ll be unstoppable.’ He puts on a winning grin, preening internally over his ability to turn a bad situation in his favor. That friendly touch on his shoulder tightens near imperceptibly, and he thinks the mech is trying to smile back. “...No you can’t. So, I’m kinda just going to kill you a little.” Shock works like a catalyst, sending his emotions skipping straight over fear into anger. Who was this buffoon, to deny his capabilities and threaten him in the same breath? The seeker’s wings hike high up on his back, and he doesn’t quite resist the urge to stomp his pede. “Do you know who I am!?” He sneers at the other’s faceless helm, drawing himself up tall and prideful. “I am the great Starscream, and I will not be put down like an unruly turbo-fox!” If the strange mech is affected by the outburst he doesn’t show it. “Uh, no?” The words come bluntly, but feel like they’re being spat into his faceplate. “Pretty sure that slagger is livin’ it up on Cybertron. I know a lotta people think I’m dumb, but pal, you don’t even look like him.” “What!? How dare you! I am the one and only Starsc- uRK !” Wrenched forward painfully, the claws on his shoulder are joined by a twin pair around his throat. They squeeze tightly, biting into cabling and lifting him into the air. “Get a load of this guy,” The autobot jeers, addressing the nearby corpse as one would a partner in crime. Close proximity has the curling smoke from his rotors clogging into Starscream’s intakes. Likely on purpose. “Thinks he can pretend to be Ol’ Screamer just by having a really annoying voice.” The cavern becomes a tumbling blurr, and it takes a moment for it to register that he had been thrown. Metal protests in vehement screeches as he lands slam into the control panel of a parked drill. It surges to life. Lurching on its treads it races forward uncontrollably. Starscream squawks, bouncing off the drill’s platform when it collides with something far too fast. The cavern trembles. Several large rocks break loose from the ceiling, shattering against the ground. The blue mech releases a startled yelp, falling over onto his skid plate as the ground shifts beneath them. “Was that thing important?” From the floor the jet looks up, following the outstretched claw to see the chamber’s main support beam come crashing down. He blanches and the blue mech takes it as confirmation, spilling into a clumsy transformation. He shifts into a rotorcraft, and takes to the air, narrowly avoiding being crushed beneath a falling boulder. He moves with an unprecedented agility for a mech that had appeared previously injured, and clearly has no qualms about abandoning his quarry in the failing mine. The jet screeches, taking flight as well to avoid being entombed in the chamber. Alone now, the grey corpses remain as they were, blissfully unaware of the chaos around them.

Maybe the blue energon wasn’t agreeing with his tanks, or maybe it was the boulders that had nicked him several times over. Either way this tree was holding up his weight rather well. Having crashed into it several klicks ago after his harrowing escape from the mine, Whirl reasoned he could simply climb down in his root mode. However transforming had left him tangled in the branches, too sluggish from his injuries to tear himself out. His HUD blinks a torrent of red throughout his vision, refusing its dismissal. Urgent: primary energon line severed. Energon levels approaching critical. Oh, he had forgotten to deal with that. Stabilizing gyros functioning at 43%. Spinal strut severely fractured. GPS System Offline. Core temperature overheating. Abdominal plating ruptured, foreign object located. Left leg severely damaged- He ignores the rest of the report constructing a tide of errors across his HUD. A smoldering branch makes a nice pillow for his helm, another finds a cozy home through his stomach. Pink energon seeps down the tree’s bark in fanciful rivers. Whirl wonders how fast it’ll all go up if he inched a bit closer with his sparking wires.

The autobots had pinned down an unfamiliar energy signature coming from this area, and were fairly confident it was the reported mystery mech. However, actually locating the mech was proving difficult in the dense woods. Bulkhead skirts between the thick trunks of two trees, Bee beeping a negative for the area he was searching in his comm. They hadn’t been out here for too long, though if the mech wanted to avoid them he’d likely have heard Bulkhead’s lumbering and booked it awhile ago. Part of him thinks it would be better that way, he’d rather be back at base, he and Miko had plans later. A particularly bendy branch snaps back into his faceplate, and he groans in frustration. “ Hey !” A young voice breaks his train of thought, and for a moment he thinks Miko had hijacked the comms. “Big, green, and bulbous, over here!” He looks down, and deeper within the woods stands a human. It’s a little girl, younger than Miko maybe Raf’s age, with a pair of blue pigtails. He notes the eyepatch crossing her face briefly, confusion overriding the fact that he had just been seen by an unknown human. The girl’s face splits in an too wide grin, then she brings her hands up to the sides of her head and blows a raspberry at him. Whirling around the child races off with a high pitched laugh. With the knowledge that human younglings don’t belong in the wilderness, Bulkhead follows the girl, albeit at a slower pace. She leads him to a large tree that’s been partially uprooted and stands at its base, grinning as he makes his way into the clearing carefully. The girl doesn’t say anything and neither does the autobot, already pinging Bumblebee to get in contact with Fowler about any missing children. Suddenly she points upward, and he follows her gesture up the trunk of the massive tree to the sight of a twisted mass of blue metal staring down at him. He’s several different shades of blue, one of which he realizes isn’t paint. One of his legs is twisted strangely, the thin plating bent much too far. The mech is impaled through his abdomen, though the hole was likely created by something else then further exasperated by the branch fitted through it. Exposed wires spit sparks haphazardly from his frame. Pink liquid dribbles down the bark of the tree, a strange contrast against all the blue. It’s a sickening sight. Bulkhead rips his gaze back downward to tell the girl to move, it wasn’t safe under that tree, but she’s already gone. Regretfully he doesn’t have time for another chase through the woods, so he hopes she’ll be okay for awhile longer. Bulkhead reports his finding back to base, and a groundbridge swirls to life in the clearing a few moments later as he’s breaking branches to pull the mech from the tree. Ratchet as well as Optimus exit the bridge, and set to work untangling the blue mech. “He’s in stasis lock,” The medic reports grimly once the rotormech is laid out on the ground. He hovers his servos over the mech uncertainly, faceplate pulled into a frown. “I’m not familiar with this frame-type...” “Is he going to...?” Bulkhead wisely doesn’t finish his question, earning a scathing glare from the red and white mech. “I can fix him!” Ratchet says, tone clipped, but then his expression grows worried, and he looks to Optimus. “He’s critically injured though, and couple that with the fact that I don’t recognize his frame-type, I can’t do this without my medbay.” Taking an unknown mech back to their home base was beyond risky, they all knew that. But they also knew there was no way Optimus would stand by and let someone die. The bright red autobot emblem on the blue mech’s cockpit had nothing to do with it. Optimus nods solemnly, gathering the injured blue mech into his arms, and carrying him with gentle steps into the groundbridge. Back at the base, despite their protests the humans are sent to their homes immediately. Autobot or not, an unknown mech wasn’t safe for them to be around. At Fowler’s behest a human search party is sent to the area where Bulkhead saw the little girl, and they find nothing. Not a trace, like she didn’t even exist.

Maybe he feels a little responsible for the weird mech he found, or perhaps Miko’s suspicion is rubbing off on him, but something in the back of his processor remains apprehensive about the bot being left alone and unrestrained. A little guilt rises up when he thinks back to those various dents and scratches on the fragile looking bot. Nevertheless, Bulkhead can’t help but feel the need to check-in on the mech they rescued yesterday. He enters the medbay as quietly as someone of his size can. The area is silent, save for the eerie monotone drone of flatlining spark monitor. There’s a little pool of pink liquid smeared over the berth which is considerably empty of injured blue mechs. Unease builds in a crescendo. Hydraulics hiss softly. He turns in search of the noise, calling out into the thick hush. “Uh, hello?” A weight suddenly crashes down on Bulkhead’s back and his vision is obscured, he staggers blindly into a nearby table its contents clattering onto the floor. Pain blooms around his faceplate and he realizes whatever is latched onto his back has claws. Claws that are currently scrabbling at his optics. “Just mixing things up, been going for the throat a lot lately,” A cheery voice explains helpfully, right into his audial. “Don’t want anyone thinking they can get off callin’ me predictable.” Pointed prongs hold his helm in place, preventing him from getting a glimpse of their owner. He grunts, a lance of hot pain striking him as the glass of one of his optics is cracked. Sharp claws jostle against his faceplate, messily trying for an entrance into his optic’s socket. Reaching around himself proves fruitless, his arms too short, and his adversary easily avoiding his grasp. He flails, but despite the mech’s light weight he can’t shake him off, ending up with those claws digging into his faceplate painfully. It doesn’t leave him with many options. Bulkhead stumbles backward and slams his back into a wall. There’s a sickening crunch. A strange keen peters off into a laugh, then something fierce rakes itself down his backstrut. Reacting to the pain Bulkhead smashes his attacker into the wall again, and again. The grip on his helm loosens on the fourth clash. With a grunt he manages to grab ahold of the pincers on his faceplate and pull. The mech follows, tumbling over his shoulder and onto the floor with a loud thud. Undaunted he shifts as if preparing to launch himself at the green mech again, but then swivels his faceless helm toward the entrance and falls limp against the ground. “Bulkhead! What are you doing!? I just finished repairing him!” Ratchet enters the medbay in response to the commotion, none to pleased with what he sees. The white and red medic fumes, optics flashing over the mess. “And my tools!? I needed those!” “Yeah Bulky,” Croons the rabid blue mech, looking far too comfortable from where he was still sprawled out on the floor. “What’s your problem?” “He attacked me!” Bulkhead protests, motioning helplessly to the leaking blue mech. Ratchet is unimpressed. “He’s been in stasis lock since we brought him here, I strongly doubt he’s capable of inflicting any real damage to you in his current state.” Ratchet makes his way over to the prone mech, casting a scan over his frame to inspect him for any new injuries. The blue mech seems to take that as permission to rear up and throw one of his arms around the medic’s shoulders, causing Ratchet to stumble halfway to his knees. Alarmed Bulkhead steps forward to pry the ‘copter off, but a glare from the medic stops him. Ratchet doesn’t try to escape the grasp, clearly assuming the mech simply needed help getting up on his pedes. However, when he attempts to pull his patient upward the mech resists, yanking downward instead in an impressive show of strength that leaves the medic kneeling beside him. Ratchet scowls, iconic temper flaring at the blue mech’s antics. “Quit that, I’m trying to assist you.” “Assist me? How about you start by tellin’ me where I know you from,” He’s leaning into Ratchet now, seemingly oblivious to the medic’s grimace. A single claw gives the old mech’s red chevron a flick. “You’re awfully familiar, and it isn’t just your shining personality.” Ratchet scowls further, and swats the prodding claw away from his chevron. “I’ve never met you before, I think I’d remember something that unpleasant.” In response the mech gasps theatrically, the sound in contrast with the joyful squint of his optic. Whatever nonsense he’s about to say next is thankfully stopped by the presence of another bot entering the room. Optimus Prime gives the occupants a look over, raising an eyebrow ridge at the two mechs on the floor. Embarrassed the medic stands up quickly, allowing his patient to spill back onto the floor with an undignified yelp. “Greetings,” Prime offers the mech a servo which is rudely ignored by the mech who rolls over onto his side instead, his back facing Optimus. He returns his servo to his side, sending his autobots a questioning glance and getting a pair of shrugs in return. “Welcome to Earth, I am Optimus Prime, the leader of the autobots. We found you in critical condition and brought you to our base for treatment. I understand you may be confus-“ “You here to arrest me again?” “Arrest you? No...I dont-“ He’s cut off again, now by the blue mech clambering up to his pedes. It looks painful, but he shows no signs of discomfort as he steps toward Optimus, plating creaking. “You’ve gotten shorter,” He comments, sounding almost awed. To his surprise and somewhat childish chagrin, Prime finds himself at equal optic-level with a mech that wasn’t in the process of shooting a fusion cannon at him. The rotormech appears to find some mirth in this, standing at the tips of his pedes to gain some more height on the autobot. “I like you better this way.” For diplomacy’s sake Optimus decides to ignore the claw that hovers over their helms, comparing their heights. He also ignores the fact that the other mech is several inches taller when he’s standing straight. Optimus clears his throat, a habit most of his team has picked up from the humans. “It would help us if you could provide us with your designation,” Perhaps they could find something about this strange mech in their database. Doubtful considering they didn’t have the same resources here as they did on Cybertron, nevertheless it was still important to figure out this mech’s identity. “As well as where you hail from.” The blue mech’s response is a bit unexpected, though it seemed unexpected was his forte. “You don’t remember me?” His singular gold optic is blown wide, and his blue plating ruffles about his protoform in a wave. “At all? Zero? Zip? Zilch? Nada?” Something unpleasant churns in his tanks at the reaction. “My apologies, I don’t believe we’ve met before no.” Optimus attempts a placating tilt of his helm. There was little doubt that one could easily forget this mech. That wouldn’t stop the other from perceiving his lack of recognition as an insult. Thankfully he isn’t offended, though the gleeful shine to his yellow optic is disconcerting. “In that case my name is Cyclonus of Whereeverthefrag .” He leans in and clicks the tips of his pincers together mischievously. “I enjoy brooding and threatening hugs.” “You’re from where?” Ratchet cuts in, crossing his arms over his chassis. The faceless mech contorts himself awkwardly to address him, instead of simply turning around. “ Wherewhatsitslag .” “Uh-huh. For some reason I don’t believe you.” “Rude. Wherewhothescrap may not be as fancy as Iacon, but it’s still home.” “No, that place doesn’t exist and you’re not Cyclonus.” The blue mech narrows his yellow optic with a huff. “Always the buzzkill huh, Doc-bot?” Not-Cyclonus uncontorts himself to face Optimus and strikes a pose. “The names Whirl. Don’t wear it out, or better yet don’t use it at all, you can call me ShootyMcFragU.” Optimus blinks. “...Whirl, if you’re feeling well enough, I’d like to discuss your options now that you’re here on Earth.” Further questioning would have to wait, he needed to establish some sort of framework before he accidentally set him off. Sadly, empurata victims were known for being unstable. “As of now we have been unable to confirm your status as an autobot. We’ll require you to answer some questions pertaining to that-“ Whirl’s rotors begin to spin. “ -later . If you do not wish to partake in that you’ll be reclassified as a neutral. For now though, I insist you stay on base.” Whirl’s single gold optic flickers wide, and he cocks his helm slowly, looking all too similar to the Earth creature known as an owl. In turn Optimus tenses slightly, watching the other carefully. “Wow. Why even say options when it all boils down to being grounded like a sparkling?” “I know this situation is unfavorable, however we have a duty to this planet and its inhabitants. I cannot allow you to roam unrestricted, until you are both understanding and willing to carry out that duty.” “I’ll have you know I don’t understand many things, and I do duties all the time.” Whirl retorts, claws on his narrow hips. Ratchet drags a servo down his faceplate with a long suffering sigh. “Optimus, we can’t just let him stay here, what if he’s a Decepticon spy?” Whirl’s plating flares, but instead of lashing out at the medic as Prime feared he just stares. “Yeah, he tried to rip out my optics!” Bulkhead chimes in, pointing an accusing digit at the rotormech. Indeed his faceplate did look as if a turbo-fox had been scratching at his optics. “ Still mad about that?” “It happened like five nanosecs ago!” “If you didn’t want to be twins you could have just said so,” Whirl looms over the other mech, forcing Bulkhead to bend back uncomfortably. “You probably couldn’t pull off the one optic look nearly as well as me though.” Prime steps in between the two, separating them without actually touching the blue mech. His knowledge of empurata victims now felt like it was woefully lacking, but he knew better than to grab at Whirl’s claws. “Enough. Where Whirl’s loyalties lie is a discussion for later .” Optimus stresses the last word, giving his autobots a pointed look. If they really wanted to do a full blown interrogation right now, it wouldn’t end well for any of them. They knew better than that. He returns his focus to Whirl who seems to be enjoying the autobots’s scolding. “I must ask you to refrain from attacking anyone.” Whirl’s entire frame recoils with disgust, then he falls into a deceptively lazy slouch. His burning optic regards Optimus with an odd glint, and Optimus dearly hopes he isn’t planning something. It’d been a long time since he had to deal with anyone completely unknown and unpredictable like this. Earth had certainly brought about it’s fair share of surprises, but this was something else entirely. While he was sure they had the advantage here he wasn’t keen on finding out what kind of damage Whirl could inflict when he was cornered. If the dried energon he had previously been covered in meant anything, it was probably a lot. “ Anyone is a bit of a broad term, can you pick something else? Like: don’t punch anyone yay high-“ Whirl gestures to about seven feet off the ground. “-or like shooting yes, stabbing no. I dunno, limiting my violence gives me the icks.” “...I see.” Part of him wonders if he should have expected this from a mech whose first words to him was to ask if he was getting arrested again.

#maccadam #whirl #transformers #tfp #optimus prime #ratchet #bulkhead #starscream #mtmte #lost light #my fanfics #soundwave #megatron #fanfiction #transformers prime #chapter 3 is up on my ao3 #my fics

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tf-tere · 5 years

Text

A Fallen Star - 1

(So, since this is my transformers blog I figured I would start posting the chapters for this little fanfic I’m writing. It can also be found on AO3, TF_Tere.

The Autobots discover a secret aboard a crashed Decepticon ship. The orphaned sparkling comes with plenty of challenges, not least of which is the medical mystery left behind by her carrier.

This is set somewhere between Airachnid’s arrival and Starscream leaving the Decepticons, so pretty early in the series.

Words: ~2500)

Ratchet had locked onto the signal from the crash. Time was of the essence if the Autobots wanted to beat the Decepticons to the location. Because of the high threat level, all the bots except for Ratchet went through the ground bridge to the crash coordinates. It was late afternoon on the other side. The golden sunlight was beginning to shift to oranges and reds. Long shadows spread from the trees, mostly pines, along the steep hill. This area wasn’t quite mountainous, but the hills provided an additional challenge in reaching the crash site.

“Stay alert.” Optimus rumbled quietly as the group moved in the direction of the signal. Once they spotted the trail of destruction from the crash it was easy to get to the ship.

“Ratchet, we’ve found the crash site. The ship looks to be mostly intact.” Optimus Prime commed back to the medic.

“Be careful, Optimus. I’m standing by with the ground bridge.” Ratchet’s voice was concerned, but steady.

“Looks like it’s in pretty good shape.” Arcee murmured as she moved ahead of the others, beginning to circle the ship. It was about twice as large as the ship that Airachnid had used to get to Earth. This fact became more of a concern when Arcee spotted the decal along the left side of the ship. “Optimus, look at this.”

Optimus came around to join Arcee while Bulkhead and Bumblebee circled around the other side. “A Decepticon emblem. Be on guard.” He paused to place a hand on Arcee’s shoulder for a brief moment before continuing toward the front of the ship.

“There’s some damage on this side. Doesn’t look like it’s from the crash.” Bulkhead called out.

-Large weaponry blast. Maybe that’s why the ship crashed?- Bumblebee’s sounds were auto-translated by the rest of the team.

“I dunno, Bee. Looks like old damage.” Bulkhead and Bumblebee joined Optimus and Arcee at the front of the ship.

“We’re not going to get answers out here.” Arcee kept both of her hands in blaster mode while Bulkhead got to work on forcing the hatch open.

Optimus requested Bulkhead to remain outside on guard in case Decepticons arrived. All it took was Bumblebee mentioning the possibility of scraplets to get Bulkhead to stop complaining about missing out. Inside the ship was dark. It looked like everything was powered down, or perhaps had been powered down by lack of energy. Collapsed across the floor in front of a set of control panels was the dull grey body of a Cybertronian. Bumblebee was the one to crouch down and examine the body while Optimus looked on with a sorrowful expression. It wasn’t anyone he was familiar with, but looked like a Vosian seeker. The wings were branded with the Decepticon emblem.

Arcee moved deeper into the ship while Optimus and Bumblebee looked at the body. She was more concerned with what else might be on board. Something fell with a dull clang. Arcee lifted her blaster, scanning the area. This section of the ship looked like living quarters. There were four berths, all empty.

“Optimus, Bumblebee, I've got motion over here.” She kept her back toward the doorway as Optimus and Bumblebee left the body and came to join her.

There was a scraping sound, metal on metal, followed by an angry hiss. Arcee turned quickly, Bumblebee stepping to the side to give them more room. They were left facing a pair of faintly glowly, red optics half hidden under one of the berths. Bumblebee kept moving, circling around to the other side so Optimus could actually come into the room. He had to kneel down to try and see the small figure under the berth.

-What is it?- Bumblebee kept one optic on the berth while also trying to keep an eye on the other, unexplored doorway leading away from the living quarters.

“Some kind of Decepticon experiment?” Arcee asked dryly, optics narrowed. If that thing attacked she was going to blast it to pieces.

Optimus tilted his head a little further before speaking in quiet wonder. “I believe it is a sparkling.”

-A sparkling, really?!- Bumblebee dropped all attempts to look like he was watching for danger in favor of kneeling to peer under the berth as well.

Arcee slowly lowered her blasters, but didn’t change them back to hands. “Optimus, are you sure? How could there be a sparkling here?” She asked suspiciously.

“I do not know, but they look close to starving.” The faintness of the red glow from the sparkling’s optics meant the sparkling was either badly injured or close to offlining for some other reason.

“Go away!” The voice was high pitched, scratchy. The sparkling had crawled further back under the berth once Bumblebee joined Optimus in kneeling on the floor to try and get a look at them.

Optimus pulled an energon cube from his subspace and set it on the ground near the berth. He paused and then used one finger to push it closer. “You look hungry, little one. This is for you.” He kept his voice as soft and gentle as possible to avoid scaring the sparkling anymore than they had already.

The pale red optics and small frame didn’t budge.

Optimus looked back and sighed softly. “Arcee.” That one word carried heavy disapproval. Arcee still had her hands in blaster mode, even if they weren’t currently aimed at the berth anymore.

“It’s a ‘Con, Optimus.”

“A sparkling. An innocent.” He replied patiently.

“Slag.” Arcee muttered under her breath. She let her blasters reform to hands and took several steps back, watching warily still.

Hunger seemed to get the better of the sparkling after that. She crawled out from under the berth, every inch of her small frame tense and ready to bolt away if needed. At least it gave the three of them a clear view of what they were dealing with for the first time. The sparkling was a small femme, still quite young. Her plating, and the blue and purple coloring on it, was almost translucent in places. It was likely that her body had started cannibalizing itself to keep her alive for as long as possible. The sparkling held her wings high and wide, probably in an attempt to make herself look bigger. It was laughable for two reasons. One, she was roughly the size of their human friend Jack; and two, her left wing was bent sharply back about half way down its length.

The sparkling grabbed the edge of the cube and tried to tip it so she could drink, but she lacked the strength in her small, clawed servos. Bumblebee reached out to grab the cube. The sparkling hissed and swiped at his servo, leaving shallow claw marks when he quickly pulled away.

“Mine!”

-I was just trying to help you drink.- He ducked his head slightly, shoulders hunching.

“We are not going to take it away. Allow me to help you.” Optimus slowly moved his servo closer to the sparkling, watching as she shivered. Her wings drooped and then snapped back up as she fought not to cower or run. He gripped the sides of the cube and tipped it up for the sparkling to drink.

She wasted no time in grabbing the top edge of the cube in her clawed servos and quickly guzzling down the rich energon. The sparkling tugged at the edges when she needed it tipped further and Optimus silently obeyed the requests until the cube was emptied. She had consumed close to her own weight in energon, small midsection chubby as her body worked to process the nutrients.

The sparkling stepped back from the empty cube before sitting down with her wings in a limp, relaxed position. Her optics were brighter now. Those optics blinked slowly before she tipped her head back in a yawn.

“Optimus, what are we going to do now?” Arcee asked and returned the sparkling’s glare with one of her own while she spoke.

“We cannot leave her to fend for herself.”

“But-”

“Arcee, she is a helpless sparkling. We cannot leave her here.” Optimus stated firmly, briefly glancing over at Arcee before looking back at the drowsy sparkling. “What is your name, little one?”

The sparkling rubbed at her face and yawned again before answering him. “Starfall.”

“Starfall. We’re going to take you with us and keep you safe.” Optimus carefully scooped the sparkling into one servo, wincing when she started to dig narrow claws into the joints. He held her carefully, trying not to jostle her bent wing.

“I want my carrier.” Starfall muttered, curling up in Optimus’s servo and keeping herself in place with those claws.

The trio shared a quick, uncomfortable look. They couldn’t know for sure that the body was Starfall’s carrier, but considering that they were both seekers it seemed likely.

“I am sorry, Starfall. Your carrier is gone.” Optimus murmured in a gentle rumble.

“Carrier.” Curled up, Starfall could just fit all of her frame in Optimus’s servo. Her optics shuttered and she slipped into an exhausted recharge.

Optimus sighed and looked from the small form cradled in his servo to the other two bots. “Continue searching the ship. We need to gather any information we can. I will have Bulkhead take Starfall back to base.”

They nodded and moved to continue deeper into the ship. Optimus retreated the way they had come. He paused to look down at the body of the dead seeker. How had they died? How had they left a sparkling behind? He shook his head and went back out the hatch.

“He WHAT?!” Ratchet put a hand over his optics with a grimace. Of all the insane… no, honestly, this wasn’t the craziest thing Optimus had ever done. He started muttering under his breath while moving to reopen the ground bridge for Bulkhead to bring the sparkling back.

“What happened? Was it the ‘Cons? Who’d they send? What was at the crash? I knew we should have gone!” Miko leaned over the railing to eagerly interrogate Ratchet.

“Is everyone okay?” Raf asked softly, looking concerned.

Ratchet glanced over at the children and sighed again. “We’re about to have a new guest.” He growled out as he turned to watch the ground bridge fire up.

Bulkhead came walking through, body posture stiff and his pace very careful. He had both of his servos cradled up close to his chest and was staring intently down at them with a half terrified, half awed expression. He blinked and looked up when Ratchet turned off the ground bridge.

“What’da ya have, Bulk?!” Miko asked, bouncing slightly in place.

“Shhhh.” Bulkhead hissed out and looked back down at his cupped servos for a moment before sighing in relief. “She’s still out.” He tipped his servos out a bit, enough for all of them to get a look at what he held. The sparkling was curled up on her side, optics still offlined as she continued to recharge.

“Whoa. It’s so small.” Jack murmured while all three of the humans stared at the small being.

“You’re not trying to replace me, are ya, Bulk?” Miko teased with a grin.

“Nah. They found her on the crash. Optimus said her name is Starfall. They’re staying behind to gather information about what happened before the ‘Cons show up.” Bulk said softly.

Ratchet had walked away when Bulkhead showed the humans the sparkling. He came back now with a scanner, holding it over Starfall. “Huh. Looks like she was close to starvation, some of her systems are close to shut down. And that wing needs repaired. Haven’t worked too much with wings, or seeker sparklings.” He rubbed at his optics again, feeling the coming processor ache. “Lets get her onto the medical berth so I can get to work.”

“Seeker?” Jack asked, watching at Bulkhead followed after Ratchet.

“She does look like a mini Starscream.” Raf said slowly.

Miko gasped and turned on Raf. “What?! No way, she’s adorable!”

“Well, I mean, she does have wings.” Jack muttered and shrugged. He walked down the stairs to follow after Ratchet and Bulkhead. Raf was quick to follow him and Miko, still nagging Raf, brought up the rear.

“Bulk, if she’s a baby, where’s her mom?” Miko asked, jumping to try and get a better look when the sparkling was set on the medical berth.

“Optimus said her carrier was dead. Do you think he could have been a spark splitter like Soundwave?” Bulkhead addressed the second part to Ratchet.

“He? Is a carrier a mom or a dad?” Raf asked, looking back and forth between the two bots.

Ratchet sighed. “No, Bulkhead, I don’t think she came from a spark splitter.” He rubbed his face and glanced down at the three human faces looking up at him. “It’s not as simple as with you humans.”

“Whoa, are you gonna give us the birds and bees talk for robots?!” Miko demanded gleefully.

“It’s- We’re not-” Ratchet groaned.

Bulkhead was trying to back away from them. “Well, I brought her to ya, Ratchet. I think I’ll just-”

“Oh no you don’t.” The medic lashed out, grabbing Bulkhead’s arm. “This is your fault too. If I have to suffer, you can suffer with me.”

Bulkhead shuffled his pedes anxiously and stared at the ceiling.

“Most Cybertronians have a carrier and and sire. Sometimes that is a femme and a mech. Sometimes it’s two mechs or two femmes. It used to be that a pair would request a new spark from the All Spark. The carrier would keep the new spark in their own spark chamber, nurturing it while the body for the sparkling was formed within themself. The sparkling body would have… material… from both the carrier and sire.” Ratchet paused there and tried to refocus back on the recharging sparkling instead of the inquisitive humans watching him. “When the sparkling body was fully formed the new spark would separate from the carrier’s spark and settle in its new spark chamber. Then they would emerge.”

“Wait, then what is a spark splitter?” Jack asked.

Raf frowned. “I thought you said the All Spark was lost early in the war.”

“Can’t you just let me work?” Ratchet grumbled, poking at Starfall’s bent wing. “A spark splitter can split pieces of their own spark and nurture it. Then they are basically carrier and sire to the sparkling. Soundwave is a spark splitter. And yes, Raf, it was.”

“Laserbeak is one of Soundwave’s sparklings. Well, mostly grown up now.” Bulkhead shrugged.

Miko crossed her arms, glaring up at Bulkhead since Ratchet had turned his back to them. “Then how is she still a little sparkling, huh?”

“Uh…” Bulkhead rubbed his helm.

“There’s evidence of long term, enforced stasis.” Ratchet said quietly, setting aside a tool. “This sparkling may very well be from the start of the war, locked away in stasis on that ship for millenia.”

“Geez, that’s got to be rough. Waking up to find everything has changed so much.” Jack murmured, sharing a look with the other two humans.

“You have no idea.” Ratchet muttered with a sigh.

#transformers #tfp #sparkling #found family #lots of headcannons probably #fanfic #A Fallen Star

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afterspark-podcast · 5 years

Text

G1 Episode 5: Transcript

Episode Show Notes

[This can also be found on AO3!]

Stinger

O: Why don't you tell me one or two of your favorite Transformers ships and why?

S: Half the ships are dead.

[Intro Music Plays]

O: Hello and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast- an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I'm Owls!

S: And I'm Specs!

O: And today we're going to be talking about episode number 5, Roll For It. Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yeah.

O: So, last time on the Transformers: Spike was kidnapped, Bumblebees’ memories were dicked with, the Decepticons “perfected” the Space Bridge, and Megatron went on an unscheduled trip to Scenic Cybertron.

S: And that's “perfected” in quotation marks.

O: [Laughter] It didn't go well- is what we're getting at here. Anyway, like any good episode we open with two Jets and Soundwave flying through the sky.

S: And Soundwave’s in robot mode, though it would be super weird if he was flying as a boombox.

O: I swear that happens later. [Laughter]

S: Probably, I mean it would be funny but it would be weird.

O: As they're flying Starscream is espousing about being, “The new leader of the Decepticons!” Uh, He almost hits Soundwave while flying because he's a jackass.

S: Soundwave appears to momentarily consider changing sides because his Decepticon symbol is mis-colored red for this shot.

O: They're normally purple for those of you who don't know this off the top of your head.

S: So purple.

O: [Laughter]

S: They attack a dam, blasting through a plate-glass window.

O: Okay, I think it was like a hydropower plant bu-but to me that translates over as a dam, right? So why are they so obsessed with dams? This is the second time, right?

S: It's just a convenient plot point.

O: Clearly. People freak out and call in a Decepticon sighting, like. Do you think there's a hotline? I feel like, at this point, there's like a hotline to the Autobots that are like, “Holy fuck, there's Decepticons here.”

S: Either that or 911 has actually started, you know, putting together a code for a giant robot attacks and then it gets forwarded to the Autobots.

O: I'll believe it. I'll believe it.

S: Yeah, probably.

O: Anyway, the best part about this that is the security guards attempt to take out giant transforming robots with handguns.

S: Not even like fancy-ass handguns.

O: No, no- they're just little handguns!

S: And then the Decepticons have terrible aim and blow up some barrels and crates but, mysteriously missed those pesky little humans.

O: Starscream proclaims himself as amazeballs. I.E. he's doing an amazing job. No, he's not. And orders Soundwave to begin collecting Energon.

S: And here they have is tape deck open but you cannot see the inside of his chest like, it doesn't exist- there's just a blank blue void.

O: [Laughter.]

S: That matches the rest of, or, well there isn't a void is what I'm getting at.

O: [Laughter] There's no hole. Anyway, Optimus Prime, Cliffjumper, and Brawn show up-- quoting I think Cliffjumper, “Just your friendly, neighborhood Decepticon Wreckers.”

S: Honey, you guys ain't the Wreckers.

O: [Laughter] Right!?! Uh, so the Wreckers are something that will show up in other media later. They’re basically kind of like the Autobot Brute Squad. Sort of?

S: Sort of? Yeah, they're the Autobot-- They're not special operations but they're like the special hit squad or something. It starts out with Impactor and like, Rack and Rule [Rack’n’Ruin]--something? And then the triple-changers. uh, Springer, Sandstorm, and Broadside get added and--that's, that’s neither here nor there. It's not at all relevant to this. So...

O: Basically, it's kind of funny with the phrasing because the Wreckers as, like, a group of Autobots is a thing that exists later. So it's mildly weird that it's used here.

S: In multiple ver-- multiple iterations in this--

O: Yeah, it's a thing in multiple iterations just not, like, in this specific version of G1. So everybody fights and then Optimus and Starscream end up in a tug-of-war match, which only ends when they accidentally blow up all the Energon on the Decepticons were stealing.

O: Yep. And then Brawn, the immovable object, gets a bunch of movable objects thrown at him.

S: One of which is Cliffjumper!

O: Um, Soundwave being the only intelligent one here orders a freaking retreat.

S: And then Starscream flies off past a super pretty rainbow. It's very pretty, honestly. Why did they put so much detail in that?

O: My question is what happened to the other two Seekers in this scene. Like, they just completely disappear- we don't see them flying out of the factory or the plant or whatever.

S: They snuck off for makeouts?

O: [Snorts] Possibly. Soundwave because he can't turn into a jet and, presumably, completely forgot he can fly- makes the goofiest escape imaginable. Running really awkwardly outside, nearly tripping, and then through what looks like a volleyball net?

S: It really does.

O: Presumably it's not, and is supposed to be a fence, but we say volleyball net because, like, the actual, like, grid or net part doesn't stop--start until a good ten feet off the ground---

S: Because it's not--

O: It's like up to his knee!

S: And it's not connected to anything else?

O: It's very strange. I don't know what it's for and I would love to see the freaking, like, show notes for this to know what the heck was going on here. It's a very very strange fence.

S: I'd like to see the show notes for like everything that's happens because this is a trip.

O: So, something that I've heard about said about Jem and the Holograms is like, they'd write something and the animators would do something very strange with it so, like, I look at a lot of the stuff here and I’m like, “Is that what happened?” I'd really like to know or did they just say Soundwave ran off and trips or something-- like what did that look like?

S: Could be. And then Prowl and Bluestreak give chase?

O: Where did they even come from? We didn't see them with the other Autobots, so they just show up the hell out of nowhere. Uh, so they show up, they hit Soundwave who flies into the air, turns into a boombox, and is promptly caught by Starscream.

S: In-in his belly hatch. Is this where he sticks all the Energon?

O: [Laughs] Soundwave is riding cargo, with the Energon. Poor Soundy, he's having a bad day. [Laughs]

S: And then Bluestreak shoots both Starscream and Thundercracker.

O: Okay, but where did Thundercracker come from and where is Skywarp?

S: Uh?

O: Eh? Anyway, when we get back to the Autobots, Optimus Prime is there with Prowl and Bluestreak. When it cuts back, Prowl is standing and Bluestreak is in car mode but Bluestreak is the one shown talking in the next shot. So--

S: Like, you can see his face.

O: Yeah, it's clearly Bluestreak.

S: And it's not like one of the things with-- from Robots in Disguise (2001) where, there's his face in the little stupid dash thing--yeah.

O: Yeah, it was Bluestreak, he was the one standing up there but not in the long shot. Prowl and Bluestreak pursue the Decepticons. Uh, Thundercracker insults Starscream's leadership capabilities as they escape.

S: And now back on Cybertron, Megs wants to go home because Starscream is an idiot.

O: Shocking no one. So, Megatron contacts Starscream and orders him to attack a lab as planned to get the antimatter-- to get an antimatter formula, apparently.

S: And we're back to astroseconds. 5 billion?

O: Why!?!!! Why would you count anything in seconds, Megatron!?!

S: Astroseconds, cuz we’ve got to be dumb robots.

O: [Spluttering] I’m just like--I’m just like, “WHY!?!”

S: And then Shockwave seems way more energetic today. I mean did Energon actually come through? I didn't think anything came through with Megatron.

O: Eh, it could--did, did some of it make it through or is it the fact that his bass--his boss is back? You decide. So, uh, evil Ray of Doom and poof Megatron is back on Earth.

S: Where he is promptly greeted by Laserbeak and Rumble.

O: Laserbeak actually lands on his arm? I still think it's weird he's pretty reasonable with the cassettes a good chunk of the time, given how much of an ass-hole he is to pretty much everybody else.

S: And then Rumble gives them an update, and oh my God, Rumble is so tiny!

O: He is! Like, so, uh, if you ever play the video games it is hysterical if you have fight Rumble because it's like fighting a leprechaun that comes up to your knee. [Laughs] And you're just like oh my God, die!

S: Oh, that's amazing.

O: It- it really is, I'm just sort of like, “Why am I having so much trouble with this thing?” I don't even remember if it was Rumble or Frenzy, but fighting both of them sucks! Anyway, so we cut to a lab, Bumblebee drives up. Bumblebee is apparently wheelchair-accessible.

S: He's really ahead of his time cuz, well, uh, I wasn't expecting a Volkswagen Bug to be, uh, wheelchair accessible, but it's frankly awesome that they did that.

O: Yeah, I like that clearly he had configured himself slightly differently to help Chip out. I think that's actually cool. Um, they're greeted by a guard with really long legs.

S: Just, it looks like you got designed by Clamp. Clamp legs.

O: Super long legs. [Laughter]

S: Yup, and then Reflector observes the guard entering his passcode in the lab. It looks like he's actually taking photos of--

O: Of like when he's pressing the buttons.

S: Yes.

O: And he says it was as, “Easy as a piece of oil cake.”

S: Maybe we should be keeping track of these crumbs of Cybertronian culture, I mean...

O: Do they bake cakes? Like, do-do-

S: Do they--

O: How does that work!?! I want to see a recipe, god dammit.

S: I feel like someone's made reference to oil baths but I mean none of the stuff in here is super consistent.

O: Tch--but that was, that was--Presumably oil baths weren't edible.

S: I know.

O: Or weren't meant to be edible?

S: I know but it's like, variance of oil, is like, this oil for food, is this oil for--

O: Water!

S: I don’t know!

O: It's like, oil bath, mineral bath, same thing. So we're introduced to Chip, a fourteen-year-old, we think, boy in a wheelchair. He will be another recurring human character in the series. We couldn't seem to confirm his age on the TF Wiki [but] he's Spikes’ best friend, so presumably they are the same age-ish?

S: Maybe, at least close in age? He is really adorable and is one of the more appealing characters in the series and he is also super freaking smart.

O: Oh yeah!

S: I think he's smarter than the robots? Honestly?

O: We'll see that later. I-I don't think that's an exaggeration. [Laughter]

S: And Bumblebee agrees with me! And okay, it's kind of creepy, maybe, he's totally petting Chip in one of these shots.

O: [Laughter] I mean it's clearly like, a thing of endearment but yeah, you have the Giant Robot who's like, ruffling the guy's hair. [Laughter]

S: Yeah.

O: As we said, Chip is super smart and, apparently, has had a hand in the antimatter development going on in the lab they've arrived at. He is then handed a bendy floppy disk that will, apparently, allow his home computer to communicate with the lab computer.

S: Which is called, ”Betsy Brainiac,” and it's also Autobot Orange-- the entire interior of this lab is like, Autobot Orange.

O: Of course it is. [Laughter] Uh, as they're leaving they are attacked by Laserbeak.

S: And so they were in the desert but now they're suddenly in a city!

O: Yeah, it's very strange, uh, they escape into, like, an underground parking garage? [Laughter]

S: Yeah, yeah- that scene change was really weird.

O: It was very-- it was not fluid, not at all. [Laughter]

S: Yeah and then Laserbeak reports back to Megatron.

O: I'm serious this is the second time, just in this episode, that Laserbeak has landed on Megatron's arm. I don't think he does this with anyone else but Megatron and Soundwave, correct me if I'm wrong.

S: Eh, as far as I can remember I don't think he lands on anyone else but I haven't watch the full series in a while.

O: I'll make note of it happens again, because I can't remember off the top of my head. Meanwhile, all the Reflectors pose like a weird robot boy band behind Megatron during all of this.

S: This is... surprisingly not the only time some Decepticons look like a boy band. Apparently--

O: I'm not shocked by this at all.

S: They look just like striking some cool poses--look like they're going to lay down some sick beats, I guess.

O: [Laughter] So uh, Chip is dropped off at home where he attempts to warn the lab that they are about to be attacked by Decepticons, presumably.

S: And as Spike and Bumblebee are driving off we get to see Bumblebees’ bright pink seats, again. They tell the Autobots, presumably, that the attack is going to happen and Optimus is heading towards the lab.

O: Meanwhile, Bluestreak and Prowl have caught up with the Seekers and Soundwave who are cannibalizing some Earth jets for parts.

S: I guess they're making repairs? I feel like repairs should work differently from this. It really just looks like they're sticking a new wing on Thundercracker.

O: Yeah, it just-- it just sort of felt weird when like, Prowl and Bluestreak walked in as they're just, like, attaching jet parts to each other. [Laughter] It's very strange.

S: [Laughter] Where did they get the paint?

O: I don't-- [Laughter] I don't know. [Laughter]

S: I mean are--so the way that jets generally work is that there are fuel tanks in the wings. How did they keep the fuel tanks from bursting?

O: I mean, so kinda--just.

S: I also don't know if that's how it works with military jets, but I’d assume so?

O: Eh, maybe. Regardless, I do want to point out that the Decepticons don't really have a doctor so, it's kind of, like the fact that they're repairing themselves-- one) I find kind of amusing, but two) it was also like, does that make Starscream their doctor? Or is Soundwave--

S: A combination

O: -or something?

S: Or combination Soundwave/Starscream, we see what they do in Fire in the Sky?

O: That's true. So it's kind of weird. Uh, later iterations we'll actually get a few doctors, um, one of our favorites is Knockout, obviously. Uh, we don't really get one here, they don't really have doctors oh, so it is kind of like who does repair them?

S: I think the, um, Constructicons are technically considered their doctor when--er doctors when they show up.

O: Yeah, that would be one way to do it, oh, okay.

S: I don't know if they're actually--well, Hook, I think, is a surgeon. Not sure about the others but Mixmaster could probably--

O: Yeah, I wasn’t--I wasn't sure if Hook being a surgeon was, like, a fanon thing that had become really widespread or he was actually labeled that way in the show, but--

S: I don't remember, uh, let me look this up cuz yeah it could definitely be fanon.

O: I like, it showed up in a fanfic I was reading and I, and I honest to God don't know if it, if it's in the actual canon or not.

S: Eh, okay he considers himself an artist, Master Craftsman, let's just-- let me just read the, uh-

O: Fair enough.

S: -the wiki to you.

S: The snob of the Constructicons Hook considers himself an artist he looks upon the rest of the Decepticons almost as peasants, underneath him to a degree. Though full of himself, Hook is a master craftsman, having truly earned his insufferable ego. His high standards that he holds himself and others to means he takes extra care to ensure that even the most simple of jobs is completed to the nth degree of perfection. It doesn't say that he is the-- is a medic but, ermm--

O: So I think it's safe to say we're not sure if it's something that will show up in canon, or not but it is pretty prevalent in fanfiction or in just, like, the fanon with the Constructicons, so we're not actually sure.

S: I guess, yeah, Soundwave and Starscream, they get to be the medics.

O: At least for now.

S: A fight ensues.

O: As it always does.

S: So much fighting.

O: We cut to Megs, Rumble and Reflector who are using the passcode to gain entrance to the lab and I have to ask, why didn't they just blast through the freaking wall?

S: That, pfft, I mean, God, we see them blast through--

O: Yeah, just wait for it.

S: Walls, windows, and everything.

O: Uh-huh, just wait for it. [Laughter]

S: So back with Chip, he's attempting to contact the lab via his home computer.

O: Apparently this is a really nice setup for the time, although I couldn't tell you either way.

S: And, well, you can see a bunch of college flyers on Chip’s wall like, at least one of those looks like it was a fancy tech college or some sort of research college. Apparently the dude's got his future planned if he isn't already taking pre-college courses.

O: Or went through college because he's super smart, you decide.

S: Um-hm.

O: Anyway, remember that thing I asked about why the Decepticons didn't blast through the wall? Now Megatron blasts through the wall. And Megatron demands the antimatter formula from the scientist. [Laughs] He calls him a flesh creature.

S: The scientist deletes the formula, but Meg's calls him out on his bullshit by using his [sigh] psychic hands to determine that he uploaded the formula to someone else I.E. Chip.

O: I have no idea if he'll ever use this random ass ability again.

S: I mean, I doubt it. If they had wanted to be consistent they could have just use that stupid chest tentacle that--

O: Let's not talk about the chest tentacle, ahh! [Laughs] Um, Prowl and Bluestreak continue to fight the Seekers, Soundwave and, uh, now Ravage.

S: Yep, and then Prowl shoots Ravage who goes and hides behind Soundwaves’ legs.

O: Save me Daddy! Uh, Soundwave shoots Prowl, taking his battle computer offline.

S: No one else has one of these, but Prowl, apparently.

O: Prowl uses his ear antenna to hunt for another online computer so he can use it to help fight.

S: Battle buddy!

O: This allows him to link up to Chips home computer--

S: Somehow.

O: [Laughs] Chip remote controls Prowl through the fight.

S: Honestly Chip would own at competitive video games now. He’d probably be amazing, either that or he would totally own at BattleBots.

O: [Laughter] Oh my God, I would love to see that! Although er-- ironically I just like the idea of Transformers building tiny robots to fight like, at, like, human competitions.

S: That would be incredibly entertaining and I could kind of see Wheeljack doing it.

O: Oh yeah! For shits and giggles? Like, I know they don't have the Holo forms, uh, like they do in the comics here but I could totally see him showing up and being like, “This is my robot!” and just like, you know blowing humans’ tiny puny little minds. [Laughter]

S: I could see, I could see Swindle like, setting up some sort of betting thing.

O: Oh god, he would! [Laughter]

S: Yeah, and then Bluestreak looks like he got drunk and lost his chevron here for a bit.

O: Uh, basically his colors are all fucked up.

S: Chip has Prowl use another jet to shoot missiles at the Decepticons.

O: This is a normal people jet, uh, I'm not sure why this is more effective than just, you know, shooting them, but they retreat so, ehh?

S: Oh, oh we forgot, we forgot Prowl is riding the jet here.

O: Oh yeah, like, he like, I mean like, he's fucking straddling the jet, somehow- like, reaching into the cockpit making it fire missiles. I'm like, I don't know why that was Chip’s first instinct but okay.

S: It's amazing and then the-- the Decepticons escape and hunt down Chip, because of course. [claps hands]

O: And Chip, our resident squishy badass, rips up the floppy with his bare fucking hands, that had the formula on it, having memorized the formula himself.

S: And then Ravage just, crashes through Chips’ bedroom wall like the freaking Kool-Aid Man and proceeds to kidnap Chip, wheelchair and all.

O: Door! Technically Ravage did burst down the door, not a wall, he's not a complete heathen, thank you. [Laughter]

S: That's true. That's true.

O: He's oddly careful while doing all of this, uh, besides going wheelchair first through a window, of which Chip is completely unharmed.

S: I wasn't expecting controlled defenestration today.

O: [Laughter] Ravage aims to please. Uh, I- I just think it's weird, uh, the Decepticons are sort of oddly careful with Chip through all of this, like, yes I know they just crashed through window but beyond that like, they basically just, you know drop him into, uh, I think Starscream? And they're off.

S: Yeah, something like that and then Soundwave reads the teenage boys’ mind in order to get at the antimatter formula.

O: Oh, the things he must have seen. I don't even want to know!

S: [Sighs]

O: Autobots then sneak into the lab using the power of Illusions and Rumbles’ own goddamn stupidity.

S: Why are you a rolling rock, Hound? Why? And I mean you can see, you can see Mirage’s footprints.

O: Yeah, it's very strange. Mirage turns invisible and Hound is pretending to be a rock. This is how they get past Rumble.

S: That's rolling! And I think they talked to him?

O: Yes, basically, he- I think, Rumble said something to the effect of, so it must have been nothing and I want to say Mirage uh, was like, “That's the most intelligent thing you've said all day,” and he's like, “Hey!” But he still can't see anybody. So Soundwave then hacks into the computer by shooting a little laser beam from his hand.

S: He goes all rainbowy while doing so, we never see this again.

O: Why?

S: Um, I think.

O: I mean, welcome the recurring theme of this podcast.

S: Yeah.

O: The Decepticons have managed to create antimatter.

S: And then Hound confuses Megatron through the power of Holograms and possibly throwing his voice.

O: Yeah, I would hope so, like, to me I feel like they should be able to tell where the voice is coming from otherwise. Bumblebee and Spike do make it in and they rescue Chip.

S: Bumblebee cradles Chip rather tenderly. I don't know if Chip would have been thrown out of his wheelchair at this point?

O: I think he was. That's why he picked him up but I maybe wrong. So to escape, Bumblebee sort of transforms around Chip and Spike and then books them out of there.

S: By driving up the stairs.

O: Stairs are, uh, of no consequence to a giant alien robot, thank you. They're promptly followed by Hound and Mirage.

S: Who also drive up the stairs.

O: With no problems, yes.

S: I have issues with the Formula 1 car doing this, but okay.

O: [Laughter]

S: Meanwhile the Decepticons fail to hit anything or anyone relevant.

O: And then we get another environment animation sequence and then all three vehicles crash through a window and make a graceful exit from three stories up, surprising the hell out of Rumble. Rumble is also having a bad day.

S: A very, very bad day.

O: It'll get worse.

S: And then Hound is suddenly blending in with the environment, he's apparently decided to go camo.

O: [Laughter]

S: Because he’s very tan instead of green here, oh no, he's cosplaying Swindle!

O: [Laughter]

S: Like two seasons beforehand.

O: [Laughter]

S: Optimus bursts into the lab with Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, and Ratchet in tow. Are they in- Are they in his trailer when this happens and then do they get released from the trailer?

O: Yeah, I think that's how that went. Anyway, while doing this, they hit Rumble in the process. As we mentioned Rumble is having a very, very, very bad day.

S: Yeah. Yep. And then Megatron throws the antimatter, blowing up the entire lab?

O: But not really? It's still standing, I don't really understand.

S: Oh-oh before this we just saw the Autobots burst through walls to confront Decepticons and like, each Autobot has their own individual hole except what appears to be Ratchet.

O: Who we think is actually supposed to be Ironhide through, like, this entire scene but he's colored like Ratchet.

S: Yeah cuz, err, I don't know, later when we get back it seems like Ratchet’s been back at the Ark the entire time, but let's get back to what we're actually at.

O: Back to our--back on our shit.

S: [Laughter] But yeah, so a lot more Autobots exit the lab then we saw entering.

O: And Optimus says, “we’ve suffered losses but we've not lost the war.”

S: Who died Optimus? Who died?

O: I'm convinced, Sunstreaker’s paint job was the only casualty.

S: Yeah, and his arm.

O: [Laughter] Poor Sunstreaker.

S: Yeah and then when the Bots get back to base they act like Ratchet’s been there the entire time like, like I said.

O: Yeah, Ratchet’s just like, “Woah guys, what are you doing? You got blown up!” Uh, so Chip starts to beat himself up, uh, over the, you know, the Decepticons getting the code but Wheeljack’s like, “Buddy, we can use your brain for better uses, let's go blow shit up.”

S: He's so understanding, Wheeljack, he's just, so understanding.

O: I think he just wants help with his mad scientist experiments in the basement.

S: Probably!

O: [Laughter]

S: I mean people give him lots of shit for blowing shit up but we haven't actually seen him blow a whole lot of shit up.

O: Yeah.

S: Except for that one bomb he made we're doing that.

O: Um-hmm. This is about the time Megatron and the Decepticons decide to attack the Ark.

S: And off go the Lamborghinis to fly! And thus Sunstreaker and Sideswipe commit atrocities against jets.

O: Jet Judo! Also, weirdly enough Sideswipe doesn't appear to be wearing a jetpack, but Sunstreaker is?

S: Um, I don't really remember who's supposed to be wearing the jetpack but canonically Sideswipe does have one. I just don't remember who has it in this scene.

O: Like I said I'm pretty sure it was Sunstreaker and I was like, “How is Sideswipe flying and why does Sunstreaker have the jetpack?” But whatever.

S: I don't know.

O: We get some decent animation here as the brothers fight the Jets.

S: There's like some really nice, it’s-it's really nice--

O: This is where the budget went, hello.

S: Um-hm. And nevertheless when they get shaken off by the Jets they have those extremely convenient parachutes like, like what Mirage had after his thing.

O: They all survived! Uh, Megatron then shoves? Absorbs? Antimatter into his chest. What the--?

S: Do The Voice!

O: Oh, okay- I can do that. [terrible Megatron impersonation] “Beware, Autobots! I am about to transform into the most powerful weapon in the universe!” He says, uh, as he turns into gun mode. Which I have to ask, what the fuck even is antimatter!?!

S: Gun Viagra?

O: [Groans] Moving on! Starscream starts shooting Megs at the Autobots.

S: And Hound is trapped by rocks, again? This might be a running theme-

O: [Laughter]

S: -But I don't know he just seems like he's buried in the rocks now like, like.

O: And this is time number three, right? Or is it just two? Starscream continues to fire.

S: And then Brawn hides in a ditch to toss his boss at Starscream. ‘Cause Starscream is on the ground and--

O: Instead of flying--because he's a jet. And no, we're not sure why this was the plan they went with, either.

S: I guess they're just working with their environment since there was that incredibly inconvenient ditch, but I mean how did Brawn get in there? Did he go like the long way around and sneak? How did, how did Starscream not hear him or [claps] see him, or something? Because I feel like Starscream was pretty close to the ditch.

O: [Huff of laughter] Eh, he was too busy getting Megatron off. [Laughter]

S: [Laughter]

O: I knew I’d sneak one in there somewhere. Anyway, Optimus knocks Megatron out of Starscream’s hands. Megatron then gets picked up by Skywarp. Meanwhile, Skywarp is accosted by humans who put on Wheeljack’s device and that device gives them control over Skywarp’s body.

S: They-they just stick it to his leg, like--so how it goes is Spike comes running over with what looks like a freaking jackhammer and then Skywarp picks him up and is like, “Squishy, I'm going to shoot you,” and then Chip wheels over, sticks the thing on his leg, and is like, “No, you're not!”

O: And then they're basically remote controlling skywarp. So Skywarp begins to fire at the Decepticons and random landmarks with Megatron. Uh, Megatron returns to his robot mode because the antimatter he shoved in his chest is about to reach critical mass. [Sighs]

S: Of course it is! Um, so of course this means he's got to start dumping [deep breath] dumping the cubes out of his boobs.

O: Predictably, uh, the cubes explode and the Decepticons retreat, Megatron vows revenge as the episode ends.

S: [Sighs]

O: [Laughter]

S: Is-is this the bit where they just fly away looking really tired, or is that the next episode?

O: I think that's the next one, like, the next episode basically ends very, very similarly, like with a fight with the Autobots vs the Decepticons, again, at the Ark. They start to blur together after a while let me tell you. [Laughs] So--

S: We have some recommendations, there's three fanfiction recommendations and then one piece of art, actually animation that Owls has to recommend. So let me go into the, uh, the fanfiction and then we will get to the animation.

O: [Laughter]

S: So the first recommendation I have for you today is “Always the Wrong Lid” by Bibliotecaria_D, which is sort of an alternate universe of G1, it's more taking everything that happens in G1 and treating it seriously, uh, I guess. It's rated K, Gen, there's no pairings. So, the characters-- Chip Chase, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Soundwave, Reflector, and Shockwave. And in summary, “It's an alien look at human racism, and bodily fluids.” There's an awful lot more in there than that. Um, so our main character that this rec- that this recommendation is based on is Chip Chase and then it's a One-Shot.

S: Um, the next one is “Lockout” by MariaShadow, which is G1 cartoon, rated K, Gen, no pairings. Character- main character is Prowl and then, I believe, there's some human original characters. So, main character’s Prowl and in summary, “Prowl endures for stress leave, and competes in a chess tournament.”

O: [Laughter]

S: Um-hmm, and, er our theme here is Prowl, because yeah, we got to see Prowl do some pretty neat tricks with Chip piloting him.

O: [Laughter]

S: And it's a One-Shot.

S: And our last recommendation is “Snap, Crackle, Pop!” by ShyLight. It's G1 cartoon, rated T, it's General, so there's no pairings. Uh, the main characters are Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and the Decepticons and Autobots. So in summary, “Sideswipe hates teleporting and therefore, by association, hates Skywarp. Sunstreaker unleashes an unholy wrath upon the Decepticon base due to a misunderstanding. No jetpacks or GPS systems were harmed in the making of this fic-- beyond repair, anyway.” And so the theme for this was, Skywarp, Jet Judo and so on and so forth. Also teleporting and things ending up not where they're supposed to be, or people, I guess. And this one is a complete five parter, I think? It's complete. And so those are the fanfiction recommendations done, let's go over to the art and animation.

O: So just a reminder, uh, anything we talk about on here you can find links for on our Tumblr. We're not spelling out names and stuff, but all the links should be pretty easy to find so if you're interested head over there, that way you can, you know check out the lovely fan art, or the fanfic. We're also going to be trying to reblog a lot of the fan art, if it's on Tumblr so that it's easier to see, basically. [Throat clear]

O: So our fanart for the day is Masterpiece Reanimated and this, is someone who has reanimated scenes from Generation 1 but using the Masterpiece figures. We’ll be including a link to a specific scene that was actually from today's episode and honestly it does a better job with continuity than the actual scene, which I find kind of hysterical.

S: It's amazing.

O: It is. So if you remember kind of where we opened up where are the uh, the Jets were in the--

S: Dam?

O: Dam--hydropower plant, or whatever. Uh, basically they do that entire section up until, I think the jets fly off, uh, which also means we get Soundwave walking through the volleyball net- fence whatever and it is delightful, I highly recommend it.

S: And transforming and being caught by--

O: By Starscream-- they did such a good job, you should go watch it! Um, anyway they've got a YouTube, a Twitter, and a patreon and we will post links for all of those so you should go check that out because it was really fun to watch and they actually have more videos but I thought er, we thought this was the most um, applicable one for today. Since it was a scene from the actual episode.

S: Um-hm. Like I specifically look it up to show you.

O: It was hilarious, I loved it! So join us next time for episode 6, Divide and Conquer, where Optimus Prime nearly dies for about the fifth time, um, and the Autobots have to get onto Cybertron to retrieve something to fix him with the help of Chip and there's a lot of random things that happen. Including but not limited to: glue guns, Shockwave can't hit shit and, uh, acid rain.

S: And that just about wraps it up for us today. Remember to check our Tumblr at Afterspark-Podcast.Tumblr.com for any additional information, show notes, or links that we may have mentioned. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at Aftersparkpod (all one word) and SoundCloud and YouTube at Afterspark Podcast. Till next time!

S: I'm Specs!

O: And I'm Owls!

S: Toodles!

[Outro Music Plays]

#transcript #afterspark podcast #g1 episode 5

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black-strike-otp · 6 years

Text

LT : Chapter 1

Oh honey, you gotta be more careful than that.

A hunter should never corner it’s prey, least it turn and retaliate. It was a nugget of wisdom that should be common sense; however, very few Decepticons seemed to live by it. Nighthawk found it hard to judge them for that. After all, once upon a time, he had thought himself to be a cunning young mech and jumped rashly into action without thinking through the consequences of his actions.

Energy is wasted on the youth. Ha! Only the most apathetic spoke in such ways. He was an old mech now and still found the energy to put forth his knowledge in the best ways he knew. Energy be damned, he’d find it or make it, one way or another.

With a brash grin rarely seen on his face the least few years of the war, the medical officer steered the Jaguar One carefully around the lone floating structure. Every reading gave off a distinct lack of life form signatures. There was no ping in reaction to his own to access the vessel; no sign of weapons coming online or defense systems reacting to his presence. Left on it’s own and now a floating ghost town in the middle of nowhere.

To his left, Nighthawk could feel the exhaling warm breath upon his arm whilst he clutched the controls. Beneath a placid expression void of expression, he felt an internal rush of comfort. The seeker released controls with one servo just long enough to put a supportive touch against his ally’s shoulder without sparring a glance.

There was an appreciative echo in the throat of the mech to his side. Only then did he allow a glimpse away from the Revenge II. The dragon’s gaze upon him appeared mildly concerned and partly inquisitive.

Nighthawk gave a single nod to the metallic wyvern. It returned the gesture with a glint of understanding within it’s red optics.

Grasping the steering module once more, Nighthawk moved his craft into closer proximity of the former Decepticon ship. The shuttle appeared worse than he imagined now that he got a good look at it. He’d spotted it at a safe distance for quite some time now; trailing and always tracking a safe distance behind the Rising Star. He had fallen back when they’d become suspicious and sent out parties from the starship, and now it seemed they decided to drop their cargo behind.

Clearly this Neutroboost wasn’t the most intelligent of mechs. Nighthawk scoffed softly to himself. If he’d been outrunning the law, he wouldn’t have bothered to lug it around this long, anyway. Too much dead weight. Not to mention the prisoners he was technically hold onto. It would only be a matter of time before someone likely turned to bite the servo that fed it. Or, in their case, likely was hardly caring for them at all.

It was going to be an enormous pleasure to connect fist to faceplate with that detestable creature. True he may only know what information had been provided to him during the time spent with Blackout and Novastrike, but he sounded disgustingly similar to another well-known Decepticon traitor. Backstabbing his superior officer, twisting truths and lies, succumbing to a darkness in his soul to turn on every servo offered to him.

That and perhaps he’d found a little too much to like about that femme. She was a soft and considerate curiosity in a world of darkness. She’d gained favor the first day he’d spotted her, on his own hunt. An Autobot helping a Decepticon. Novastrike was easy to listen to and believe.

How bizarre his world had become since those days.

Wreckage drifted in every direction around the Jaguar One as he piloted slowly towards the Revenge II. Soft bursts of his thrusters maneuvered him through debris with care. On the off chance the idiot decided to leave any mines or explosives setting among the ruin, he didn’t wish to be added to the causalities left behind.

The lowered docking hatch had been left wide open for him. Suspicious. Tentatively, he glided his ship into the behemoth with caution.

Drawing in a sharp breath, the dragon spoke quietly: “Do you think it’s safe to go in, boss?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Nighthawk answered honestly. “We have a good vapor trail still to follow the Rising Star; too far for a solid signature but we know a direction to follow. We can allow ourselves a moment of study. There is an off-chance they left something here we could make use of.”

The dragon snorted, his helm-horns tilting just slightly back.

Nighthawk raised an optic ridge as he tiled his helm towards his apprentice. “You disagree?”

“I’m just worried we’re walking straight into a trap, Nighthawk.”

A quiet chuckle emerged from the seeker. It sounded a bit rusty and ill-used, but light-sparked.

“I’m not going to let an opportunity to gather intelligence or supplies stop me, Infiltrator, you know that. I’ve been doing this for years. I think I can manage.”

As he spoke, the medic leaned smugly back in his chair and laced his digits in front of his chassis. His chin was raised and a light flickered behind his softened purple visor as he smiled. There was a sense of calm and pride that was undeniable in his tone that echoed in his thoughts.

With a look of doubt forming in a small frown on the corner of Infiltrator’s maw, he turned to trot for the back of the Jaguar One. To himself, he hissed a few words that Nighthawk suspected he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Don’t get too proud, boss.”

He thought to counter, but left it be. A ventilated sigh escaped the mech as he moved a servo to his forehead for a moment. Infiltrator had always been a true friend; always concerned about his well-being. He seemed a bit more on edge for his well-being ever since their run in with Lord Megatron on planet Earth. Every time he limped or stumbled, the dragon was there against his leg like a support. Every decision he made that felt a little too-quickly devised, there was a color of uncertainty on the dragon’s expression.

So he hadn’t been utilizing his hunter instincts for a few years. One didn’t just lose that sort of instinct and training.

Maybe you’re just trying to relive your glory days, his thoughts chided at himself.

Nighthawk mentally waved off the thought. He didn’t have time or room to doubt himself. Hesitation lead to mistakes. He couldn’t afford mistakes.

He climbed out of his chair and went to fetch a few precautions; a set of frag grenades and some fusion grenades to his arsenal tranquilizer darts and surgical precision wrist blades. With a shrug, he decided to grab a neutron assault rifle he’d traded for and stored for emergency use as well. If there was anything on board or anyone, he probably wouldn’t be needing any other weapons or sniper utilities. A quick escape to his ship would suffice.

Armed and ready, Nighthawk strode out to meet Infiltrator; activating the magnetic false gravity in his pedes as he did. The dragon had already made quick work to secure the area; pads light on the floor as he moved swiftly to and fro the room in search for evidence of any traps. The moment Nighthawk stepped out, he gave pause to turn his helm around and nodded.

They progressed the Revenge II slowly. Each hall checked and scanned for snares and hidden ambushes. As they walked, his scanners on and glimpsing around every corner and checking every seam where metal fused and bolted to metal, Nighthawk took notes and captures images of the condition of the ship for reference. The further in they moved, the more signs of battle there were to be found from the inside just as there had been on the out.

Dried energon splatters flecked and blotted from ceiling to wall to floor. Missing sections of the ship’s walls; sometimes deep enough to lead to the exterior where you could see the distance stars. Scorch marks here. Slices in the walls there. A nearly faded but still functionally noticeable scent of tarnish, oxidization, and decayed lifeforms.

Poking his head into the next room, Infiltrator spoke loudly: “This one’s empty too.”

“Let’s check it for anything, just to be safe,” Nighthawk muttered.

Stepping inside, Nighthawk skimmed their surroundings. It appeared to be a former recharge area where a lot of bots had bunked together. Instead of berths, they had recharge chambers that stood vertical at a sixty degree angle. Efficient for stuffing as many bots as possible in one area.

Stepping to the closest one, Nighthawk scanned it for signs of life. When the results came back negative, he went to skim his digits lightly around the chamber. Nothing of interest.

“Uh… boss?”

The nervous chirp of Infiltrator’s voice had him raising his helm.

The dragon’s trail was whipping nervously behind him. In one of the chambers, a clearly offlined specimen was stuffed inside. Locked behind the door, their mouth hung slack open and their posture half crumpled.

Knees creaking, Nighthawk moved to stand and brush himself off, wincing.

“What is it? He looks offline to me.”

“Yeah but- don’t you find it a bit off-putting? The mech’s just been shoved in there.”

“Hmm… I suppose… We can always investigate if it would put your processor at ease-”

“Nighthawk,” Infiltrator said quietly, “I think he was pushed in there after he was offlined.”

“What difference would that make?” droned the older mech somewhat tiredly as he approached. From a look around the pod, indications would suggest that there wasn’t a struggle in or outside of the chamber. No scratch marks for escape, no energon, no weapons or flaked armor or rust or scuffs on the floor.

“Who would take the time to put someone in a recharge chamber when they’re offline?” Infiltrator inquired, his voice both uneasy and curious.

“I don’t know,” Nighthawk vented. “Maybe someone was honoring this particular mech. Who am I to say.”

“Do you think we should-”

Before Infiltrator could grasp the external door latch, Nighthawk’s servo shot out to grab his clawed pad. The dragon froze, turning his helm up to him.

“Leave them be.”

“You don’t think we should-”

“I don’t want to chance a rigged chamber,” Nighthawk said quietly. “We can’t see behind the mech. There could be an attachment to the door to some device behind them. Let’s just leave the offlined to rest. We can’t do anything for them, anyway.”

There was something sparkbreaking about seeing the look of hurt in Infiltrator’s haunted regard. He was still young and spry in some ways. Wandering into unknown territory to follow his inquisitive side and satisfy his mind. Trying to fix what was long since too broken to be fixed any longer.

I was just as foolish, once.

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to stew in sorrow and self-pity right now. You simply couldn’t save everyone. And you certainly couldn’t bring the dead back to life.

With reluctance, Infiltrator nodded and moved to follow him in inspecting the remainder of the room. Other than the one oddly placed mech in a recharge chamber, the room was otherwise empty. No secretly placed weapons, no discrete datapads, nothing.

They left the room in peace, and the offlined to their eternal slumber.

Much further in the depths of the ship; in a larger passageway big enough to fit a Predacon, they came across a war zone.

“What do you think happened here?” Infiltrator asked with awe and wonder. The amazement turned quickly to a cringed horror as he mistakenly slipped into a crater in the floor; not looking to where he’d been placing his pedes.

Nighthawk said nothing. Analyzing the room, he let his gut do the talking. A larger extensive fight. The warped floor where Infiltrator had nearly tripped in caused by a tremendous weight- looking around, he decided it was likely from the rather massive mech or from a weapon that had went missing. Another massive indention in the floor appeared too weak to sustain weight if they tried walking on it. That was definitely caused by a weapon; the pattern it left too destructive, too wide-spread.

A dented wall.

Shattered pieces of metal everywhere. Unrecognizable if it was from the floor, the walls, or the lusterless gray forms twisted and mangled on the floor. Half smelted and hardened metal as far as the optic could see.

His senses were overloaded with the smell of bad energon. It was everywhere. The entire area had a dull bluish sheen.

Stepping around the turmoil and chaos, Nighthawk’s optics were drawn to what little color there still was. Armor that had been ripped free of corpses before their demise. He bent at the knee, reaching down to brush aside an energon-splattered red section to pick up a small, insignificant shard of white. His digits turned it over in his servo carefully.

To his right, Infiltrator stiffly walked over to join him. Utterly silent; even the mech’s ventilation system was temporarily shutdown to avoid inhaling too much of the odor from the foul area.

“Boss?” the assistant swallowed dryly.

“Novastrike’s,” Nighthawk stated flatly, clutching the metal in his fist.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It matches the structure of her armor and it’s metal alloys. I can tell by touch. And according to the curvature, I’d say it was likely a section from the armor on her arm.”

The wyvern remained silent as Nighthawk went to subspace the piece of metal. He pushed himself to stand despite his aching knee joint and continued walking slowly down the corridor.

The massacre only grew more unspeakable and violent as they went. Hard to identify what belonged to who. Nighthawk could easily identify this hurricane, however. It was maddeningly obvious. This was Blackout’s work. A frenzy of savagery and violence; a wake of destruction and mayhem.

He had made it a mission to tear apart everything in his path, no matter the cost. It was cold and disturbing; the work of a bloodthirsty killer.

Nighthawk felt nothing. Not a sense of remorse, not a shred of humility or fear. No regret or pity. He felt nothing at all.

They made their way to the upper deck which served as a partial observatory almost; a ridiculously high ceiling and every square inch from top to side to side all panned with thick glass. A control center was square center in the room, with various terminals branching off around the entire area. Worker bots probably once slaved away in the room, following commands that only lead to the downfall of their kind. Recklessly throwing themselves in harms way, following the orders of insane individuals.

Nighthawk curled his lip and sniffed rudely. To the Pit with all of them.

A walk around the room revealed about as much as any other room they’d bothered with. Nothing had been left behind that could come of use. Infiltrator had insisted upon trying to dismantle and take parts from the command modules, but Nighthawk turned him down. It was a waste of time. Besides, there was no telling what might still be bugged and logged in the system. Best not chance it.

“See about taking a spare data capsule and extracting what you can from the system. Logs, updates, who worked here; anything old or new. But make sure it’s empty. We don’t need to lose information because someone left fail safes to keep thieves out.”

“I’ll get on it, boss.”

While his subordinate got to work, Nighthawk stepped just outside to study the area further. He documented some photography of the area, noting a rather large pede step made by someone who I made tracks through energon. It didn’t appear to be Blackout’s but had the same stature of someone largely built.

A ping to his private comm signal had his posture straightening halfway through as he busily snapped off a couple pictures.

“What is it, Infiltrator?”

“It’s done boss- but I thought to let you know, there’s some footage I’ve got on here too. And it seems pretty recent.”

“Excellent. I’m coming back. Let’s see if we can’t access them via the command module first before we check the rest of the ship.”

“Roger.”

He pivoted on heel and made his way back down the hall towards the bridge. Mentally, he made note of the direction the track pattern had been heading in for future reference. There was plenty of ship to explore, but his instinct was telling him to follow where those prints lead.

Nighthawk entered the control room with a stride of purpose as he approached Infiltrator and his rigging up to the commander’s terminal. He gave a grim look up to his mentor, before turning back to his datapad and tapping his clawtips across a few keystrokes.

They looked up as a screen blimped into existence before them. The quality of the imagery was sharp. Not a bad security system. There were bots walking around inmass, hard at work it seemed.

“When was this taken?” the seeker mused.

“A few thousand deca-cycles ago. Here, let me speed through these logs looking for anything more recent.”

“Try a camera in the main hall while you’re at it.”

“Right.”

Images flashed faster than the processor could configure. Nighthawk watched with interest, folding his arms in front of his chassis. He resisted the urge to lean against the console for his bad leg as he waited.

“Stop. Stop! Stop- there.”

Frantically pressing buttons, Infiltrator paused the footage and hit playback as he looked up.

Both mechs grimaced.

“By the Primes, Blackout.”

“I don’t know whether I should be grateful or upset there’s no audio,” Nighthawk muttered. “It could be useful to hear for anything else we find but in this case...”

“I’d like to keep my audios from breaking from the cannon fire,” Infiltrator disagreed in a whisper, skimming through the logs prior and after the encounter.

As the screen skipped along various time frames, Nighthawk caught a glimpse of a towering shape between glimpses of the feed. They had to be around Blackout’s height; maybe less. He tried to make out a definition of their pede’s shape and dimensions, but it was difficult with the film moving so swiftly.

He opened his mouth to ask Infiltrator to go back as the screen extended into a lengthy stretch of nothing but watching the dead bodies and some fuzziness, when another figure appeared.

“This is a few cycles ago,” Infiltrator piped up, frowning deeply.

With screen paused, the twosome leaned into the holographic screen. The mech had a shady appearance about them; shifty dark blue optics, a sneaky posture and sly grin.

“What’s he carrying?”

Terror and understanding slowly crept into Nighthawk’s faceplate.

“We have to get off this ship,” he hoarsely choked. “Now.”

“Boss bot? What is it-?”

A horrific bone-chilling screech echoed down the hallway in response. Nighthawk’s energon went cold as he exchanged a look with his apprentice.

His wrist blades extended with a flick as he gave a firm nod down at the wvyren.

“Take the data collector and whatever else you have, and make for the ship. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Nighthawk, I don’t like-”

“Go,” he hissed. “And for Primus’ sake, whatever you do, don’t slow down.”

#Lex Talionis AU #OTP Lit #OTP AU #OTP Friends

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x-de-con-struct-ed-x--arch · 6 years

Note

[Unbind Me] (( :V ))

Ironhide has been kidnapped more than a few times in his functioning - more than he’s ever liked admitting, actually. He had been an important part of the Autobot front, after all, one of Prime’s right-hand mechs and best soldiers. He’s been used as a bargaining chip, he’s been used as bait, he’s been interrogated and tortured and simply locked up to keep him out of the way while the enemy tried to use his absence to their advantage - scrapes he gets out of eventually, whether he has to rescue himself or not. While he can’t say he’s used to them, he thinks he can safely say they’re not that unusual.

…well. At least he used to be able to say that, because this? This is a new one.

“You’re going to sacrifice me.”

“Yes.”

Ironhide offlines his functioning optic in an incredulous blink. “Me,” he repeats, staring up at the strange creature. When they nod, he blinks again. “To a god.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Ironhide isn’t sure what else to say to that. He shuffles against the pole at his back a bit, wincing when the stasis cuffs bite into his already-sore wrist joints. “Can I ask why?”

The shrug the creature gives him just makes the situation all the more bizarre. “The boss says it’ll make him happy,” they tell him.

“…so you don’t know why?”

The creature doesn’t answer. Instead, they just slither away, leaving the weaponsmith to watch as they and their… friends? fellow worshippers? prepare for what Ironhide can only assume to be some kind of ceremony that’ll end with his unfortunate demise. Ironhide isn’t at all sure what to make of the situation. He’s been around worshippers, some of them pretty extreme zealots - that had been part of the job even before the war, back when he’d been a just a temple guard - but this is just–it’s just–

Ironhide is just really confused, alright? Blame it on the pain and the energon loss.

He wonders if that’s part of the ritual, beating the sacrifice to a pulp before they off it. It seems rather counterproductive if you ask him. Don’t gods want their sacrifices strong and intact? Ironhide doesn’t know. Religion was never his thing.

“Can I at least ask which god you’re sacrificing me to?” he calls out, shuffling again. He’s pretty well-bound, the stasis cuffs set at a low enough setting that he can still move, but not effectively. His legs are lashed together with organic cord that reminds him of Earth spider silk. His left optic - his good optic, thank you very much - is offline, as is his left audial sensor, leaving him half blind and deaf as well as injured from multiple lacerations on his chassis. Many of them are bite marks, and if Ironhide manages to get out of this he’s definitely getting those checked out. He doesn’t really want to know where these things’ mouths have been.

…although he doesn’t think this is a scrape he’s getting out of by himself. And he doesn’t really think he has anyone coming to save him, so this might be one he’s not getting out of at all.

He should be more worried about that, but he’ll blame that on the pain and energon loss as well.

“One of your gods,” another creature answers, not looking up from the materials it’s gathered. Ironhide frowns.

“Primus? You know I don’t believe in him, right? I’m an atheist. Won’t that, I dunno, fuck up your sacrifice or something?”

“Not necessarily,” yet another creature chimes in, sounding way too matter-of-fact for Ironhide’s comfort. “Sometimes it’s the non-believers that please the gods the most. Isn’t it more satisfying to rattle someone to their very core, make them question every single ideal that they’ve ever had, only to have them die moments later before they can even beg for forgiveness?”

“Uh… no?”

“And we’re not sacrificing you to Primus.” The creature that had spoken before says the name like it tastes foul. “The other one. We’re sacrificing you to him.”

“Unicron?”

“No.” The creature looks over at Ironhide sharply. “The god that walks among you. You’ve met him. He wears a mechanical face.”

“…I hate to break this to you, but I have absolutely no goddamn idea what you are talking about.”

“I thought you said he knew The Beast.” The accusation comes from a creature that has otherwise remained silent and motionless. The others jump.

“He does,” another assures them, a bit fearfully. “They live on the same ship. They’ve spoken before. The sacrifice is sensitive. He can feel the god’s Presence.”

…Presence? Wait, isn’t that…? “Are you talking about Terra?”

All of the creatures hiss, startling Ironhide into jostling some of his more severe wounds. “Don’t speak his name,” three of them utter at the same time.

“The Beast’s name is sacred,” one of them says.

“A non-believer like you has no right to speak it,” says another.

Ironhide is officially creeped the fuck out.

“Sorry. Just–you really think Ter–he’s a god? And that I’m a good sacrifice for him?” Knowing him is a bit of a stretch. Ironhide hasn’t said five words to Terra. He might be a little sensitive about getting close to his Presence, but Ironhide’s EM field has always been sensitive. It’s not that difficult to overwhelm him with just a normal EM field, let alone something as strange as a Presence.

“There were better options,” a creature admits. “But you were an opportunity we couldn’t pass up.”

Ah. So Ironhide was easy.

“You know I can probably just call him, right?” Already Ironhide’s opening up his commlink, decoding IDs and scratching into servers that are technically locked and protected. “I mean, I don’t have his commlink, and I’m no hacker, but all it takes is a little digging, maybe a spark attack or two for Red Alert, and I can pretty easily–yeah here it is.” Ironhide has a single-word message out before the creatures can even try to stop him:

«HELP»

“Don’t be ridiculous. The Beast wouldn’t associate with a lowly being like you.”

“You just said you wanted me because I know him. You–”

“Do you end up in these situations often, Ironhide?”

Everyone jumps. Terra looms over them all with a flat expression on his faceplates, arms crossed imperiously. His Presence washes over them and Ironhide makes quick work of tucking his field against his plating. His apparent ‘sensitivity’ is the last thing he needs going wrong right now.

“No,” Ironhide lies. The serious veneer cracks a bit when Terra gives him a smirk. The Immortal hums and turns to the creatures.

“Toying with forces beyond you is never wise,” the Immortal says, voice calm yet sharp. The creatures cower before him, writhing their serpentine bodies.

“We simply wanted to please you, Great Beast,” one of them says. “The sacrifice is worthy.”

“Your sacrifice is a friend of mine.” This time Terra’s words are sharper. His optics glow menacingly. “If you were a true follower you would know that I protect what’s mine.”

More writhing. The creatures hiss in fear.

“We’re sorry, Great Beast.” “We just wished to please you.” “Will another make you happy?” “We can find another.” “Someone better.”

All of the hissing is making Ironhide dizzy. Then again, that could be the pain and the energon loss as well. Which reminds him…

“Hey, uh, Great Beast?” he says, catching Terra’s attention. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out if I don’t see a medic soon and I’d feel much safer with you than with…” he painfully jerks a shoulder towards the mess of creatures. “So if you don’t mind?”

“See?” “The sacrifice is willing.” “His faith has abandoned him.” “Let him feel your wrath, Great Beast.” “Let him–”

“–oh fuck.”

One second Ironhide’s chained to a pole in a dingy chamber. The next he’s holding onto the leg of a being three times his height, trying not to purge and collapse, and not exactly winning the battle.

“Are you alright?” Terra’s tone has become gentle, as is the large servo against his back. Ironhide nods his helm, then shakes it.

“Not really. Teleportation’s never been my chosen mode of transportation.”

Terra chuckles. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, but that isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh. You mean the whole–”

“Yes.”

“Mm. Ask again later.”

Ironhide ends up purging on the Immortal’s pede.

He’ll need to make that up to him somehow.

#asks #immortalwanderer #terra #this got entirely too long #and it isn't very good #but i tried ^^'#hope it's ok #:: 🔧 :: [ mun’s art ]

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bettsplendens · 6 years

Text

(7078 words of Duo finding a bedraggled little nerd and proceeding to try their best to help him. It... mostly works. They’re too enthusiastic for this.

No significant warnings, but the unfortunate nerd is some degree of traumatized. Somebody manhandled him pretty badly before this.)

It was an abandoned laboratory, so of course they needed to inspect it! Especially with the temptingly large hole in the roof, a hole that turned out to be directly over a relatively solid floor, and no signs of Insecticons in sight. That was an absolutely perfect place to inspect and/or loot, and Duo climbed inside with barely a second thought.

There was less inside than expected, unfortunately. Someone had clearly looted the place already, taking everything they had easily found. Duo could find more, though, as they were entirely willing to crawl under crumbling walls and creep through any gaps they could fit through. Basic chemical supplies, a tool here and there, the occasional shatter-proof test tube or flask. All useful to them, albeit not terribly exciting.

Something else was more exciting, though. Prints! Tracks through a spilled puddle of paint from an old closet. And not Cybertronian in origin, the shape was too pliable. More like footwear, with toes. Interesting- organics? And large ones, judging by the prints, but long gone. The paint was dry and starting to show some weathering. Presumably the ones who had nearly emptied the place before. Shame Duo didn’t get any of that, but- ah well, everything on the planet was free-for-all at this point. Too many dead people to worry much about who got the scraps.

A scraping noise up ahead caught their attention, and they crept up onto a leaning cabinet to peer through an air vent into the next room, checking whether it might be any sort of predator.

Reasonable expectations included a turbo-fox, a lone Insecticon, or a very large wire-rat. Unreasonable expectations included a Sparkeater.

It was none of those things. Fortunately.

It was a mech.

Chained to a heavy table by one leg, stretched out full-length along the ground, straining to reach a blowtorch that was just out of reach. The ground was covered in scratch marks, suggesting that this had been a frequent activity, and some of the scratches were starting to look weathered- this had evidently been happing for a long time. Another table had tipped over across the room, shedding contents that included the blowtorch, and the mech was struggling to reach it.

Duo, of course, sprang to assist, shoving the vent covers aside to get down into the room. Crooning “ease, friend, calm, here to help”, they scooped up the blowtorch and moved closer, reaching for the chain to cut it-

And jerked back in shock when the mech responded by trying to bite Scissors.

The mech in front of them was a bit smaller than them, minimally armored, formerly white plating stained and dirty in spots. From what Duo saw before he scrambled back underneath the table, much of his plating was dangling loose, some of it tied in place with wires and some of it simply hanging as if half the latches had been broken. His optics were an odd light color, pinkish-red, and one was dim and flickering as he glared out at them. A shard of what looked unpleasantly like his own sharpened arm plating was on the ground next to the little mech for a moment before he snatched it up, and he brandished it at the twins like a knife, hissing in the back of his throat in what must have been an effort to frighten them away.

It didn’t exactly work, but Duo retreated quickly out of range, sitting with their backs against the other table. A bit shaken by the sudden aggression, they pressed together and went silent, watching the mech who they’d meant to help but had only managed to scare. That, oh, that wasn’t their intent, but what had scared him? Had they moved too fast, or was it the size difference? Granted, they weren’t that much larger, but smaller mechs tended to be more aware of who was larger than them- and there were two of Duo versus one of him.

<Oops. Remorse.>

<Release?>

<Release!>

In hopes of calming the poor mech, Duo slunk closer once again, Scissors holding out the blowtorch in one servo. “Apologies, friend, meant to help. Take? Get free of chains,” he offered, low to the ground, trying to be as friendly and unintimidating as possible.

Oddly, the little mech didn’t take the blowtorch, just glared suspiciously at them. Even when Scissors put the blowtorch down in easy reach and backed up, nothing.

<Afraid, still.>

<Understood, poor mech.>

<Thinkthink->

<Fuel?>

<Won’t take this, won’t take that. Earn trust?>

<How-think?>

<Check!>

Suddenly excited at their new idea, the twins hopped up and sprang over the upended table on their way out, through the door they hadn’t yet passed, hoping to find computer banks somewhere. Labs had staff rosters, staff rosters had pictures and identifying marks so cleanup crew could ID staff after disasters, pictures had names attached. If they could find his name, they could use it, and that might help.

The door they hadn’t entered through led to another hallway, mostly caved in, with a massive hole in the floor. Probably from an Insecticon scavenging for corpses. Whatever it was, the edges were weathered, the creature was long-gone, and the hole was the perfect size for Duo to spring down through. Off along that hallway, peeking in every door, then along another hallway and over- ah! A heap of rubble, on the other side of which was a set of bunk cots and an empty energon dispenser. Standard laboratory staff crash room, for mechs too exhausted to continue working. Which meant- here!

Under a collapsed slab of ceiling was a small console, meant for staff sign ins. It had been left alone by scavengers, either due to low value or due to being hidden, and seemed to be in decent shape. Duo popped the side panel off and dove into the internal wiring, coming out with the spent battery that would hold a charge if the main power was shut off. Swap out the battery, and the console fired up, albeit with a beeping alarm at not being able to connect to any sort of network.

From there, simply plug in a simple bottleneck computer to trap any data that tried to come their way without permission, then slip into the computer and past the standard sign-ins to the emergency files. It was simple enough to find their mech’s image, as well, those distinctive pinkish optics stood out. His name was Spinflask, and he’d been the head researcher. Duo took the image, that description, and all the attached files –job records, health data, everything available- in case anything could be useful, then just about climbed over each other getting back up to where Spinflask was. They could help now! Maybe! Hopefully!

Really, they should have expected the sight that met them when they bounded back into the room.

Namely, Spinflask vanishing out the other door, having grabbed and used the blowtorch in their absence. It wasn’t a clean getaway, though, not from the sound of it- there was a messy, clattering crash as if he’d tripped over something and hit the wall, and the retreating pedesteps were shaky and skidding.

Glancing at each other in concern, Duo ran after Spinflask with a flash of <find-catch> <need-help> <find-and-help> to each other, wanting to catch up to him and head him off before he hurt himself or got out to where they couldn’t help.

Duo shouldn’t have caught up to him with no warning, Syringe shouldn’t have gotten around in front of Spinflask, and they both shouldn’t have spread their arms to keep him from running further. And they realized that, but only an instant after Spinflask reacted within the bounds of reasonable expectation- namely, by swinging the lit blowtorch at Syringe’s face. To which Scissors also reacted reasonably, by leaping at Spinflask’s back and knocking the blowtorch from his servo, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Both of them reeling from and flaring at the threat, Duo stayed frozen for an instant, Syringe with his servos up to block and Scissors on top of Spinflask. There was an instant of <rage/protectiveness> from the both of them, but it vanished in an instant when Spinflask started screaming. It was a high, shrill, vibrating sound, one that could have been intimidating had he been in a different situation, but given where he was it just sounded desperate.

<oh>

<bad>

<fix>

<how>

<how-fix>

<release??>

<no, run, hide, hurt>

<help-fuel?>

<choke>

<set-free careful>

<take-outside-sun, breathe>

<lift-careful?>

<lift-careful-now>

In agreement as usual, Duo converged on Spinflask, each lifting him by an arm to put him more or less on his pedes. It would probably have been easier to outright carry him, he kept alternating between bracing his pedes and trying to pull away from them, but this felt wrong enough without picking Spinflask up. And what else could they do but take him outside? If they let go, he was either going to run –potentially hurting himself- or attack them, and they couldn’t just- what, sit on him until he got tired? That- that was worse! Hauling him outside felt like the least creepy thing to do here. Hopefully it would calm him down, or at least get him to stop screaming.

It did. Hauling a fighting mech up onto the roof was difficult, but, once they got him up and into the light, Spinflask tilted his face up and finally stopped screaming. It didn’t make him silent, though, his cooling fans were wheezing alarmingly and he was still alternating between trying to escape and trying to bite them. Primus this mech had endurance- or at least a deep supply of adrenaline.

Well.

Now that he’d gone silent, it was time for a full conversation, or at least the closest thing they ever got to one over the bond. More like words than impulses and concepts, at least.

<Pit. Now what?>

Worth a shot. Scissors tried, crooning in his softest voice. “Spinflask, yes? Easy, friend, trying to help- look, outside now. Sunlight- nice, yes? Breathe, relax- won’t hurt you. Just- want you to not hurt us! Make a deal- you calm, stop biting, we let go. Clear?”

That worked. For about half a nanoklik, in which Spinflask paused and stared at them, then he shrieked another wordless sound and tried to bite Scissors’ nasal ridge off. Fortunately, he missed.

<Nope.>

<Understands, even? No words in- that. Just screams. Maybe- doesn’t understand? Codex messed up?>

<Definitely, yes, so other trouble.>

<Just- insane?>

<So- what now?>

<Drugs?>

<…hm? Ah- riot suppressants?>

<So… yeah. Drugs. Just to- to get to places. But not sedative.>

<Brother, feels gross- loose plating, not- not good, probably explains.>

Duo made a face at each other over Spinflask’s helm, neither twin bothering to hide how terribly uncomfortable they were with restraining and drugging a mech who was so upset, but neither of them had any better ideas. They couldn’t leave Spinflask here, he’d either hurt them or himself if they let go, and they couldn’t wait forever. Nor could they hold on forever- they were starting to get tired, where Spinflask didn’t seem to be tiring at all.

How could one mech have this much adrenaline? Because Spinflask was clearly running on adrenaline, his EM field almost entirely hidden but throwing aggressive stabs at them now and then, and he didn’t seem to be looking at either of them as he bit. His vents were getting louder, too, starting to wheeze roughly with every violent action- this couldn’t be good for him. He was going to hurt himself doing this, or get loose and hurt them.

So… drugs it was. Creepy as it felt, getting him high would make him much less inclined to hurt somebody, and they could override that adrenal response. Plus ,they had just the thing in subspace- a mixture intended to be dispersed into a riot via aerosol grenades to put all the rioters into a less-than-violent mood. Their aerosol grenades were loaded with a mixture that did act as a mild aphrodisiac in cases, so they… weren’t going to be using that. It tended to only have that effect on people who had exhibitionist tendencies anyway, which was why they kept it around- wasn’t strong enough to be creepy, it just meant that sometimes your former rioters would end up fragging. Nevertheless, they were not using that on Spinflask, Primus no, that felt downright perverted. Fortunately, they did have a vial of a different mixture, mostly because it was a decent recreational drug and good for trading.

And, with his vents outright shrieking at the speed they were reaching, it was a simple matter for Syringe to pull the vial out with a spare servo and place a few drops near half-hidden vent inlets.

As intended, the drug worked quickly. Spinflask arched in blatant alarm, trembling in one last, desperate attempt to get away, then went limp between them as the drug did its job and cut off the adrenaline response that had been keeping him going.

Within a few kliks, Spinfoil went from a desperate bundle of fury to a limp heap barely supported between the twins, optics unfocusing and staring up at the sky. Seeming to give up, he stopped moving entirely and curled into himself, and he didn’t respond to being released and allowed to curl onto the ground.

…well. That had… worked?

Yes, it had worked, the intended effect had occurred, but… ugh.

Duo made another face at each other, then sat down next to Spinflask, needing a moment to rest after… that. Primus.

<Agreed. Next time we find a mech chained to a lab table, we walk up slowly.>

<snk- agreed.>

Instead of turning their comforting urges against Spinflask, who they were sure would object very strongly to being stroked, Duo pressed together and hugged each other close. Burying their faces in each other’s shoulders, they stayed still and silent, pulsing comfort/reassurance/understanding back and forth until they both calmed down.

With their sparkrates back to normal and Spinflask showing no signs of doing anything other than lying on the roof looking buzzed, the twins uncurled and stood up, Scissors (cautiously) lifting the small mech with them. “Easy, friend, apologies. Won’t hurt you- had to keep you from hurting us or you, is all. Nothing bad, promise, is only a riot-calm mixture. See? Very calm now.”

Maybe “calm” wasn’t the word so much as “drugged”, but… hey. No more biting and screaming, at least, and Spinflask didn’t seem to be panicking internally.

Getting off the roof with a drugged Spinflask was easier than getting onto the roof with a fighting Spinflask, but it still felt like something that was illegal for very good reasons. Fortunately for them, they’d brought a sled in case of larger found items, and Spinflask counted. He fit onto the sled, and they were able to tuck a tarp over him to hopefully keep him comfortable.

Just in case, Syringe walked alongside the sled as Scissors hauled it, keeping an optic on the mech they’d found. It was unlikely that he would suddenly snap awake and jump up, he seemed to be busy staring at the sky, but being careful couldn’t hurt.

And it didn’t, though it turned out to be unneeded. Spinflask, curled up under the tarp, stayed curled up until they got back to the spot Duo had claimed. Somebody’s old bunker, long since cleaned out by Insections, which had been easy to re-clear with a smoke grenade and some repellant applied around the area. They’d added a very thick door, stocked the bunker with plenty of metal-cutting supplies in case the door got stuck, and rigged several booby traps containing various aerosol grenades that could repel Insecticons or other predators.

Inside the bunker, they’d set up a comfortable berth-slash-nest made of two berth pads placed against each other, heaped with every soft, clean bit of fabric they’d been able to find. Syringe lifted a chunk of padding off of it with a few blankets, and Scissors brought a folding table over and down, the both of them quickly putting together something that would lift Spinflask to a reasonable working height without looking or feeling like a medbay berth. From there, they lifted him up and settled him onto the table-slash-berth, covering the lower half of his frame with a blanket to make this just a fraction less creepy. It… didn’t help that he was still limp and incredibly compliant.

<Agreed, augh.>

Their mental correspondence stopped entirely as Spinflask shifted. It wasn’t the movement that had their attention, though, not really- more that they’d just gotten a look at his forearm. Someone had pried off the plating over his wrist connectors, and… oh dear.

Syringe took Spinflask’s arm gently in two servos, lifting it to settle it across his chassis where Scissors could see, the two of them sharing a grim look at the sight. Whoever had removed the plating had evidently tried to fit several plugs into ports that weren’t meant to take something that large, and, judging by the scratches around the rims, weren’t even the sort of cables designed to fit into wrist connection ports.

A thought hit the both of them, and, crooning quiet reassurance as they did, Duo lifted Spinflask’s other arm to inspect the other pieces of loosened plating. More marks, these from tools of some sort, something like a tiny pry bar. An image of the tracks they’d found flashed between both of them, and that- that seemed plausible, didn’t it? Organics getting overly curious about Cybertronian anatomy, evidently not taking “no” for an answer- those had been large enough tracks, and Spinflask was on the smaller side.

Plating pried off, wrist paneling removed, ports forced open around foreign plugs- ugh. Shudders. No wonder Spinflask was so guarded! Couldn’t blame him. Made this feel nastier, but… he was looking at them, at least, watching them with no signs of alarm.

Duo sat back and met each other’s optics, then both sighed quietly and reached for their medkit stash, deciding to help as much as they could while he was still relaxed. Even if it was artificial relaxation. All that plating hanging half-off, they could fix that, couldn’t they? Could try and work the ports back into shape, as well, get that panel back into place rather than having it dangling askew like it was now.

That was the conclusion they came to, eventually, after a good deal of fidgeting and uncomfortable stares. They had to help, this was probably their best opportunity to help… uncomfortable as it felt.

The first thing to do was fix those strained ports, while Spinflask was still dazed enough to, hopefully, not be frightened by the touch. The calipers needed to be reset, so Syringe inspected the ports in question for a moment, then sighed and pressed a fingertip against the wall of one. A slow, firm stroke from the depths of the port to the rim spread the calipers a final fraction, realigning them from where they’d been pushed askew, and they made a series of tiny clicking noises as they reset to a neutral position. Easy enough to do. Next, Syringe gathered up the loose connection cables, which had been clumsily looped and tied around Spinflask’s wrist, and coiled then back into where they were supposed to be.

He was about to work on fixing the panel, as well, but Scissors cut him off with a flash over their link.

<Brother?>

…oh. Oh dear. Yes, Spinflask was definitely looking at him. Not just facing his direction, actually looking, optics fixed as much as possible on his face.

Scissors took Spinflask’s other servo, circling a fingertip against his palm until he turned to look up at Scissors instead, and hummed softly to the smaller mech. “Hello, friend. Is okay- not hurting you. See? Putting everything back, and doing it now while you stay calm. Very sorry about the drugs, friend- were afraid you would hurt yourself or us. Thought it might help if no possible fear. This okay?”

Spinflask was definitely watching them now, with as much focus as a drugged mech could muster. Brow furrowed slightly, helm tilted a fraction, optics focused on Scissors with clear attention. He didn’t look frightened or angry, at least, just… a bit puzzled. As if he wasn’t certain what was happening, or why.

Well. That was… not a positive reaction, no, definitely not, but probably the closest to positive that they were going to get. Spinflask seemed confused and at least somewhat interested, and that was all. Nothing negative, not yet. He wasn’t afraid, at least, nor was he trying to murder them.

Improvement!

Sort of!

That would work for now!

Duo shrugged at each other, broadcasting a certain level of discomfort at the situation, then sighed and went back to work. They’d best take advantage of Spinflask’s artificially imposed calm. “All right then, friend- put your pieces all back on now, okay?”

Not okay, not really, but- closest thing they could get at the moment. Hopefully it would calm Spinflask down if he came to and found that his armor was all fastened back in place instead of, ugh, hanging askew everywhere.

At least it didn’t seem to be any specific armor that had been pulled free. Tiny mercies.

Something else was odd, as well. This seemed to be a genetic oddity, though. Spinflask’s silvery-white plating was oddly slick, and much of it felt quite thin, especially around the edges. They’d seem something a bit like this before- common in chemists. It wouldn’t support a vehicular alt mode, though, so what was he?

They shouldn’t exactly have been doing it, but Duo paused in their repair work (mostly trying to figure out what lined up where) to inspect Spinflask’s frame. Gently enough, of course, but they looked him over as much as possible without touching, then lightly touched what looked like a hatch in his lower chassis. What was this? Almost looked like the door to an internal symbiote dock, but symbiotes would be throwing a fit about this whole situation. Primus- did that mean the mech’s symbiotes had been taken, or killed? That would explain his reactions.

Duo made the bond-sensation equivalent of an apprehensive face at each other, both eyeing the panel, and both reached for the panel at the same time before hesitating.

<understood, but need to find out>

<ugh, apprehension/worry>

<agreed, brother>

Another pause, then Syringe sighed and eased a fingertip under the loose panel, lifting it just enough to see-

Oh, thank Primus, not a symbiote dock.

Rather, a test tube rack, one sturdy enough to be-

Oh!

Not a rack, a centrifuge! That’s what that was! He was a centrifuge!

They’d never met a centrifuge! A microscope, yes, more than one, but not a centrifuge!

Cool!

Realizing that their fields were absolutely conveying their interest, Duo lifted their winglets in a friendly manner, gently pressing the panel back into place- no matter how much they wanted to see more. “Apologies, checking for symbiote dock. Useful information. Interesting, though! Never met centrifuge-alt mech, just microscopes. Used regular centrifuges, though. Hm- must have impressive strut assembly to not shake apart, yes?”

“Quite. Hence the armor, as well- the- the slickness sheds chemical spills easily.”

Spinflask still looked dazed, but having something to focus on seemed to be helping him stay coherent, and he propped himself up just a fraction to get a better look at what they were doing. “Or. Used to. Not… properly aligned.”

Oh!

There he was!

Duo lifted their winglets further and grinned down at the scientist, both of them gently easing his chassis plating further into place. “Hello! Awake now, yes? No worries- fixing your plating for you. See? Not too bad, just- ah, here, misaligned latch. Relax- back down, hold still.”

Scissors tucked a pillow behind Spinflask’s helm, and they both gently pressed him down, coaxing him to lay back so they had a steady surface to work on. “Calm, calm- breathe. Let us fix- see? Is okay. Just trying to help, friend… easy.”

Thankfully, Spinflask still had nothing more negative than confusion in his expression, so Duo continued their careful work at replacing his plating. Nothing was too badly damaged, but most of the latches had been wrenched open too wide as the plating was ripped off, keeping them from closing properly and fastening shut. It was simple enough to grip the latches with fingers or a set of tiny pliers and bend them back into place, and Spinflask either didn’t mind the discomfort or was too high to feel it.

Going by his slightly more focused optics, it was the former. Spinflask was definitely watching them, and he seemed to be processing what was happening. Moreover, when he spoke, his voice was slow but stable.

“Pardon. What- what did you give me? I- I am feeling-“

Spinflask’s vocalizer clicked once or twice in evident confusion, and he almost reached for them, helm cocked and reattached plating starting to flare. “-this- this is- I’m- oh.”

Slightly concerning. Duo cocked their helms in a silent echo of him, winglets flicking slightly to the sides in a deliberately casual motion. “Relatively unsuccessful variation on an anti-riot drug. Intended to halt adrenal responses, induce calmness. Altered further due to inability to disperse properly through large group. Harmless, no concern- won’t hurt you,” they crooned, each petting one of Spinfoil’s servos, then paused and glanced at each other before continuing. “Also made to induce desire for touch, contact- furthers positive effects via endorphins. Apologies- thought this was best suited to calm you. Ah… complaints about contact? Can lean against you somewhat for work. No pressure, no motive, only want to help- if comfortable.”

Understandably, Spinflask eyed them with a degree of suspicion at that, but the drugs apparently won over, as he nodded and reached for them after a moment. Muttering “apologies again for drugs”, they pressed up close on either side of him, their stomachs against his armor for him to feel the warmth. Hopefully pleasant enough, especially since he didn’t have very thick armor on most of his frame.

In fact, most of Spinfoil’s armor looked almost like the thin plating that people would sometimes get as decorative pieces meant to cover exposed muscle cables or other mechanisms. It definitely wasn’t, not sharing the same odd, slick texture with the few thick pieces, but it was very thin- some of it had even been crumpled slightly by what had apparently been organic hands. The more durable pieces were along his shoulders and upper back, including some that, hm, probably formed the lid of his alt, and the rest-

The rest was pretty. Smooth white with tinges of silver, fitting together with minimal gaps along his frame, especially along the front. He was almost wearing an apron, the armor along his front flowing down to join skirting panels in a waterfall-like stream of silvery-white, which actually made a lot of sense now. He was a chemist, after all, born to be one, and born chemists often had built-in protection against incidents. Duo had an unusual degree of acid resistance and a system made to redirect unusual substances to be analyzed and used rather than merely ingested, some others had thick shields or even plating that could be rapidly shed if tainted, and Spinflask here had extremely slick armor with minimal gaps along the front.

It was pretty! And presumably effective! Doubly good!

Oh- shoulder armor out of place, but awkward angle, probably needed them both to maneuver it. Scissors leaned over Spinflask’s frame to help, to pull the armor up to where it belonged-

And Spinflask jolted, tensed, hissed, and shrieked. His claws were too dulled to do any damage, but he tried, clawing at their armor in the few instants before they jerked back. Optics wild and plating flared as much as possible with how loose most of it still was, Spinflask scrambled onto the edge of the table, balancing there and striking out at Duo with one servo whenever his swaying balance made it look like they might be getting closer.

Duo, understandably, did not try to get closer. They went with the initial impulse to retreat, slinking backward and partially under the table, and leaned on each other in unease as Spinflask shrilled down at them. Oh dear… what had they done this time?

<Brother- was doing well, but- this?>

A pause, the two of them calling up an image of the scene the instant before Spinflask had panicked, and even with the distraction of Spinflask hissing at them it was easy to see what had gone wrong. They’d… loomed a bit, hadn’t they?

<oh. Leaned.>

<opposite.>

That seemed reasonable. Now, what was the opposite of looming over someone?

A few quickly pinged mental images, then they glanced at each other, nodded, crouched, and stretched out along the ground on either side of the table.

This. This was the opposite. So… hopefully it would get the opposite response? Or at least calm Spinflask slightly, let the adrenaline wear off- because this must be an adrenal reaction! Something going wrong, somewhere, that magnified the effect from merely a jolt of energy to this. Because this wasn’t a normal level of response, and it wasn’t a normal type of response, either. Mechs like Spinflask, with no integrated weapons and a frametype designed for nonviolent work, didn’t attack like this when frightened.

There were exceptions, of course, but this wasn’t just lashing out- this was a violent, prolonged response, the “fight” in fight-or-flight taken to the extreme. For Primus’ sake, the mech had tried to stab them with a sharpened piece of his own arm plating! That wasn’t how mechs like Spinfoil usually responded, he was- he was a nerd. Like them. They didn’t attack people, even when upset, they got out of the way and retaliated from safety. This had to be an overblown adrenal response, it all made sense.

Hopefully their approach would help calm that down. Field flaring and pressing friendliness/reassurance/security against the indistinct stabs of Spinflask’s anger/threat/anger, they chirped up at him in a friendly manner, offering little smiles carefully adjusted not to show their fangs. “Spinflask, hello- easy, friend, calm. Not going to hurt you- sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to startle. Is okay- shh, friend. Calm, lay back down… too unsteady for that, might fall.”

Much to their relief, it worked. Without anything to keep him going, Spinflask swayed, whined quietly, started to relax-

And, whoops, fell over the edge of the berth-

Right into at least six servos.

Duo weren’t about to just let him fall like that! Friendly field wrapping around Spinflask, they gathered him up in both sets of arms, crooning reassurance to the small mech as he went limp between them. Too tired, looked like, and no wonder. Cold, too, starting to shiver. Oh, poor mech-

Berth time. No more putting him on a table, he was joining them in their nest. That was a bit awkward to manage without looming over him again, but they managed to curl up on either side of Spinflask, placing him on top of a thick blanket where he could easily be reached for the rest of the needed repairs.

There was a confused expression being aimed at them, once again, but Spinflask looked too tired to be anything other than sleepily baffled. Most likely that was due to him having spent his last bits of energy on an extremely aggressive, drawn-out startle response.

Probably not much point in it, but Scissors tried to meet Spinflask’s optics, speaking quietly to him to explain what was going on. If he could understand it, at least. “Hello, Spinflask- this better? Apologies for startle. Going to rest here for now, sit, slowly continue repairs. Also, keep you warm- too cold. Probably need more energy- here, drink. Energon processed from dead animals, but safe- sterilized and filtered.”

People sometimes made a bit of a face at being offered a cube of energon taken from an animal. Not unreasonable!

But people didn’t usually turn away, cover the mask over their mouth, and mutter “don’t want it”. Especially not when they were clearly low enough on energy for such a refusal to be dangerous. Baffled, Scissors cast a glance over at Syringe, then crouched and attempted to meet Spinflask’s optics. “Hey- need fuel! Is okay, safe to drink, just… drink, please?” he crooned, holding the cube just in front of the scientist’s optics, and purred gently down at him in hopes of coaxing him into taking the cube.

Spinflask wanted the energon, clearly. His fuel pump made an audible grinding sound as it tried to start up, the mask covering the lower half of his face retracted, and his field pulsed hunger/want/need, but he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he twisted away from the cube, growling “haven’t earned it”, and pushed his face into- well, he probably meant to hide in the blankets, but he ended up with his face in Syringe’s chassis.

…well then.

Syringe instinctively curled around Spinflask in response, used to it being his twin pressing into him like that, and shared a confused look with Scissors. That was, uh… something, and… not necessarily a surprise. Duo were familiar with the “you haven’t earned this yet” attitude, it wasn’t a shock to hear that Spinflask had also been subjected to it. What was surprising, though, was him seeming to agree.

They weren’t going to stand for that.

No question, no hesitation, no consideration, just outrage. They would not stand for that. Scissors mimicked Syringe’s action, pressing gently to Spinflask’s back, and stroked a servo over his arm in hopes of calming him and coaxing the servo off his face. “Oh, shh. Living being, yes? Then earned enough fuel to not die. No price, just drink, please? Come, Spinflask…”

There was no objection to their touch, so Scissors carefully stroked trembling silver-white fingers out of the way, growing bold enough to brush two fingertips over Spinflask’s cheek. “Drink?”

Spinflask’s response was a soft, needy whine, a pleading sound, but he still made no move to accept the energon. He wanted to, clearly, he was hungry, but his resolve was firm enough that he stayed perfectly still despite that. Even as Scissors petted his cheek again with one servo and cupped another other servo under his helm.

They had an idea. Scissors trapped Spinflask’s helm as gently as possible, Syringe casually brushed a servo over his optics for long enough to hide them, and Scissors tipped the cube- spilling a few drops of the energon against Spinflask’s lips. Whatever his mind thought, Spinflask’s frame was starving, and they needed to get energon into him. This was less likely to injure him than an IV. Granted, his mind might not much like them taking advantage of instinct, but those violent adrenaline reactions meant he needed to be fueled or he was going to pass out halfway through the next one. And who knew what it would do to him if he passed out in the middle of another violence-toned panic attack! They certainly didn’t know. Probably something bad. So… this.

A moment of nothing, then Spinflask licked his lips, seemingly a subconscious motion. Another few drops, another lick, a few more drops-

And Spinflask moved, jolting against their servos, practically launching himself up to grab at the cube. Duo let him, and he gripped it in both trembling servos, only managing to keep it in his grip and himself upright thanks to their steadying servos. All reluctance gone, he gulped at the energon with desperate hunger, his mismatched plating fluffing against their servos as he drank deeply.

The cube was far more than his small tank could manage, but Spinflask did his best to drink the entire thing, stopping only when he physically couldn’t swallow any more. Gasping softly, he lowered the cube, still holding tightly to it, and slumped back against Syringe’s frame where he’d been curled up before. His vents were running low to save energy, so he had to gasp a few times to properly get them started again, and he made no effort to lean away from any of the contacts.

And there were a lot of contacts, not least because Duo gave in to the impulse to brush away the energon that dripped from the corners of his mouth as he gasped for air. They couldn’t help it- soft, silver-white cheeks, pretty faceplates, little mech all mussed up- who wouldn’t try to put him back in order, especially when it meant stroking?

He didn’t seem to mind, at least. His optics were focused on them, he seemed aware of what was happening, and he wasn’t pulling away. Those were all good signs. Either he liked this or he didn’t mind it, and both of those things would work for now.

Hopefully not showing his dentae too much, Scissors offered Spinflask a pleased grin, unwinding himself slightly from where he’d braced himself against the smaller mech. “There- see? Better? Now- relax again, relax, fix your plating for you. Stretch out, hm? Reach your back.”

A slow blink, then another, then Spinflask nodded and stretched out on his front. Setting the cube aside, he gripped the blankets in both servos and kneaded lightly, glancing over his shoulder now and then to watch them work.

After a klik or two of silence, he tilted his helm further and lifted his winglets a fraction, looking considerably more lucid than before. “That was… odd. I... I’m sorry, what- what happened? I… seem to have something of a void in my memory, but, clearly, something happened.”

That… that was going to be one Pit of an explanation.

Duo aimed an apprehensive look at each other, then sighed, shook their helms, and went with the truth. “Would appear you have an adrenal overreaction. Frame responds to startles with aggression. Fight-flight-or-freeze response, yes? You have permanent fight. With sprinkling of attempted murder.”

Oops, Pit, he was looking guilty. Field softening considerably and thrumming reassurance/apology with an accidental-but-distinct undercurrent of affection for the poor, worried little mech, Duo crooned and petted Spinflask’s shoulders until he started to relax, offering a vocal purr along with the purr in their fields. “No, no- is fine, easy. Didn’t hurt us, and reaction is fine. Calmed down now, see? Just… fix all your plating, then we sit nice and quiet, let adrenaline calm down.”

Spinflask blinked a few times, slowly, looking down at his scuffed-up servos and dulled clawtips. He’d never had long claws, clearly, but he ordinarily had sharp tips to his fingers that could work as claws. They… weren’t really claws any more, though, he’d worn them down against the floor.

“…oh. Well, that… that might explain the… gaps in my memory lately. Some… rats, I think, kept trying to figure out if I was edible. I must not have reacted well. My- my sincerest apologies for the… attempted murder, I- you seem harm-harmless enough. More- more than that, actually, you- I- thank you, I don’t- I don’t deserve- Prim-Primus, I-“

Shoulders heaving, Spinflask hunched into himself, starting to curl into a shaking ball- and squeaked as the twins abruptly pressed up on either side of him. He didn’t panic this time, though, just made a few soft noises of confusion and gently pawed at their plating in bewilderment. “I- pardon? What- what are you- ah- I- oh. Oh dear. I- goodness, I-I- oh-“

Gradually, Spinflask went still and leaned his helm against Scissors, vents cycling in an odd, hiccupping pattern somewhere near a sob. He wasn’t crying, but he was close, servos skidding against silver-and-green plating as he was gently pressed between two narrow frames.

Oh, oh- poor mech, but, there, that wasn’t a surprise. Duo cooed gently down at Spinflask, bundling him up in a thick blanket, and leaned back into their nest with another blanket pulled over all three of them. “There, there, shh- is okay, sweetie, relax. Vent… there. Is okay, okay- cry, is fine, let emotions out, just relax. Got you, Spinflask, okay? No danger, nothing else, just us. Relax, vent, eventually recharge… fix your plating now, feel better later, maybe try alt mode? Don’t know if… hm.”

A pause, a glance at each other, then the twins attempted to meet Spinflask’s optics. “Immobile alts- fidgety or no at not transforming? Never tried- mobile alts. Very mobile. Fidgety frames.”

No response.

Right, he was too busy not-quite-crying. Oh well- they could ask later. Right now, they’d just snuggle him. Seemed to be… good? He wasn’t wiggling away, at least, was mostly relaxed, and-

Oh!

Duo stilled as Spinflask pushed his face into Scissors’ chassis, clearly on purpose, then the twins cooed and curled around him to hold him close.

Aw!

Cute!

A bit sad, but cute!

Spinflask gradually went limp in Duo’s arms, wrapped up in blankets and scientists, still baffled but calmed by the sensation of gentle servos replacing the plating all down his back. An unusual number of servos, to say the least, but the touches were soft and the work was good. Even if it came with some extra petting to various innocent places.

Eventually, the twins had gotten all of Spinflask’s plating back on, but he was too asleep to notice.

He’d probably notice when he woke up.

Though that might take awhile.

#Spinflask #Duo #Scissors #Syringe #they try #they really do try

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yesnomaybelobster33 · 7 years

Text

Show me your teeth. (NSFW)

So I wrote this. Inspired by @cosmicdanger picture of almost xneomorph Soundwave. http://cosmicdanger.tumblr.com/post/158974853867/i-dont-think-he-even-has-a-face-i-heard-this

I really need to stop writing just teeth stuff for these two.

It wasn’t often that the Decepticon officers beside Starscream actively sought out their medic or followed through with his weekly physicals. To be honest even if they did Knock Out would not be there. He scheduled those times specifically to give himself free time away from the base. A mental health break honestly since there were no days off on the Nemesis.

There was an appointment they all made and that Knock Out did take seriously though and that was their denta appointments.

Not much in the use for denta since living on a liquid diet and not having to take down a turbofox or crunch into a glitchrat to get to it’s precious lines anymore most cybertronians shaved down their denta and since most had grown out of the recessive trait as it was it was mostly not a problem. For higher class bots at least. Most Decepticons were not higher class mechs though and most Cons actually relied on their denta as their last defense so even bots like Knock Out kept a few of their denta sharp enough to pop a line.

Among the officers the Cons had left only Starscream had no reason for constant denta care, while the first lieutenant once sported his own set of pointy fangs CMO’s of past had long ago filled the figgity aerials maw in to save them from future patch jobs. So he only needed filings every few decades. Still that left five others including himself and however many vehicons who would be brave enough to come take their masks off.

Most of Knock Out’s resolve and stamina was wasted on Lord Megatron who liked his smile to be perfectly villainous, Breakdown who while trusting the medic completely simply just hated the practice and feared it like the Pit, and of course himself because he was afterall Knock Out and no mech left on the Nemesis could honestly say that shaving down and capping one’s own denta was an easy thing to do.

Personally none of the other mechs really minded this because that meant by the time they got to the medic he was about two or three drinks in and more personable and calm than he would have been any time earlier in the day. Which was how Soundwave found him late into the night, just about to retire to his shared hab-suite. A flash of annoyance ruined the medic’s pretty face as he caught sight of the spy but he quickly hid it.

“Soundwave~ Honestly I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t show. This is the only time you ever want to see me. A long day today?”

Soundwave nodded even though the doctor wasn’t paying attention any more. The medic had no real sympathy considering he was often overworked himself despite his attempts to sneak away. That was the life of a medic though, giving all and receiving little so Soundwave in turn had little sympathy for him. Still this never stopped them from being friendlier than one might guess. Knock Out wasn’t always so jaded and selfish and he had keen audials. It was after all how he kept out of trouble. If only his loyalty wasn’t so unpredictable. That didn’t stop Soundwave from going to him if he needed especially for gossip that might be valuable and it usually was considering Knock Out was the only Con who liked to go down to the human cities.

He was also fun for other things as well but the spy didn’t often indulge in those activities much anymore.

“Your lucky I didn’t reattach my doors yet. I was just about to.”

Soundwave stepped up onto the small lip and leaned back against the upright med pallet, watching as Knock Out sanitized his tools. He was indeed doorless, needing more mobility with his arms so he didn’t deck his patients in the face with a side mirror. Usually he just slid them further up if they got in the way but after having to already replace one he was much more protective. He was also looking very slick and shiny. Just waxed, his colors coming through brilliantly. So deep and smooth that it looked like one could just dip their digits into the gravity defying pools of red. Some mechs were just so lucky.

“So dear es-pe-ion~,any problems as of late? The last thing we need distracting you is a niggling pain.” Another nod. Soundwave didn’t fight often but every time he did he tended to break a tooth or two and Knock Out hadn’t scheduled a dental visit for quite some time with him being sent out on missions as well. It was a pain. Soundwave did enjoy the actual look of concern that flashed across the medic’s face though. He hadn’t seen any genuine emotion other than anger from the bot for quite some time. “Oh… no. Well it happens. I have to quickly shoot a message to Breakdown so you get your face off for me.”

Soundwave waited as long as he could to take his visor off. Without it he couldn’t see and while he was perfectly comfortable relying on his other senses it still left him feeling vulnerable even if there was nothing to worry about with the Doctor. As all his his inputs started to disconnect and go dark Soundwave felt a smooth digit under his chin. “How bad is it on a scale? Am I going to have to numb circuits?” The spy calmed his spark quickly and wobbled his servo from side to side in indecision. He knew it was a mess in there.

Knock Out had gained much more control of his frame since he’d last been on the nemesis. Soundwave had barely felt him moving. Just one more thing he’d have to readapt to.

“Well I’ll grab something then.” The touch on his jaw left so he waited with his visor in his servos for Knock Out to come back.When he did the medic was not happy. “SOUNDWAVE! IT’S A MESS IN THERE!”

While most would have been surprised to find that behind the mask Soundwave had nothing but a fang filled maw Knock Out was only disappointed by how terribly it had been maintained. “They’re all impacted and growing through each other!” Knock Out wasted no time now that he’d seen the job he was dealing with. Forcing Soundwave’s jaw down he started to prod and crack away bits of metal that were already falling off thanks to the fangs underneath boring holes in them. “Do you even know how many unnecessary circuits I’m going to have to pull out now! This is going to take forever!” Soundwave only handed Knock Out the visor. Knock Out sighed irritably in response. “You could have at least come a little earlier.”

He could not have done that. He had been busy.

“Or you could have requested an emergency surgery.” He could have done that.

After taking his time marking everything down on his medical charts and spraying his servos down with a specialized sealant Knock Out returned to Soundwave’s side and took no time in getting started. Soundwave tried not to retch at the terrible taste of the sealant but couldn’t hold back a few twitches. Knock Out usually used tools for most of the mechs but that was usually only for small problems. “Well you should have come in for this sooner if you don’t like this. On you it’s much easier if I just suck it up and-eugh- get my servos dirty.”

In response Soundwave waited till the medic was off guard to snake his glossia around Knock Out’s wrist and flick kisses against the palm till the he shuddered. Servo’s as sensitive as usual when he used the tools inside his digits. It wasn’t the feeling of the medics servos he disliked and Knock Out knew that quite well. He was just being mean.

Knock Out tsked him but Soundwave noted the shaky invent. “Now Soundwave~. I will have quite a lot to do. I can’t have you being a tease if you want to actually get this fixed.” Soundwave chittered deeply from the back of his intake as he uncoiled his glossia. He’d have to pace himself if he wanted to get anything more out of the medic.

_____________________________________________________________

The drone of the Doctor’s laser cutter filled Soundwave’s audials as Knock Out sawed through the outer layers of the spy’s broken teeth. It was a relief to have all the extra metal pried from the gaps between them but the pressure strained and split the softer grounding metal causing energon to flood his mouth. Knock Out was mindful enough to apply a balm to the cracks every time but the built up fuel forced Soundwave to swallow again again again, making the claw at the back of his intake twitch in anticipation.

“Someone’s getting antsy. I haven’t even gotten this cleaned up let alone all the ones I need to pull so they don’t shear into your cheek. I will stop till you can keep ahold of yourself if you keep this up Soundwave. Injuries like this with your frame are no light concern.” Knock Out’s warning didn’t stop Soundwave’s glossia from trapping the mech’s warm digits and coiling around to stroke them. There weren’t many mechs the spy trusted to indulge in his kinks with but Knock Out’s touch always got him riled. The spy didn’t like asking for favors of any kind but….he wanted this.

A dark raspy voice filled the back of Knock Out’s processor as Soundwave spoke. A purring, growling noise like that of a suave chainsaw one moment and of ghastly specter the next. “Admit it Doctor~ I ruined you night. Let me make it up to you.”

Knock Out slid his digits slowly against the grip of Soundwave’s glossia as he thought over the spy’s offer. It had been a long time and Soundwave hadn’t exactly been nice enough to earn anything but Breakdown would already be recharging by the time he got back and he’d have to go mining in a few hours once the ship got to where it needed. So he didn’t want to wake him up. “FIne but try not to scratch the paint Soundwave. Your lucky I still have any sympathy for you after the way you’ve let our Lord and first Lieutenant treat me.”

“You like playing in minefields Doctor. You should expect a few explosions.” Knock Out freed his digits again but only to continue his work. Soundwave worked his long glossia around the delicate wrist again, through taut wires and cables, till he could just feel the thrum of Knock Out’s line. The smell of energon so close made his mouth water just a bit. Oral lubricant dribbling through his fangs to the floor.

“I do not. I do a lot of things but playing in minefields is not one of them. I’ve still got flashbacks of working in them so why would I play there? Making deals with devils who still speak like savoirs is more appropriate I’d think.” Soundwave nodded curtly, too caught up in the pleasant feelings running through his circuits to care about the Doctor’s wordplay.He chirred a bit as he gripped at Knock Out’s middle with long boxy digits of one servo and a snaking feeler to keep him close. Leaving his other servo to idly play with the Doctor’s idle one.

Knock Out shuddered again as more of Soundwave’s feelers ensnared him and the spy’s gentle touch ghosted along his frame. Two could play it that game. Getting back to work Knock Out took his time now. Fingering all the freed up gaps, slowly picking away at the built up metal, and making sure to poke and graze against the mech’s glossia around his wrist. Knock Out could practically feel the time ticking away as he felt his spark heat up. Jumping every now in his chest. “I’ll need pliers now. I have to pull some of these.” Soundwave didn’t let Knock Out move an inch as he grabbed the tool off the medic’s cart. “And the gel Soundwave. It’s going to hurt when I snip some of these.”

Losing Knock Out’s other servo Soundwave focused elsewhere. Tightening his grip he bumped his codpiece against Knock Out’s and slowly rolled his hips up to grind against the Doctor. Knock Out’s teasing ministrations hadn’t gone unnoticed for him and while he may have been jumping the gun the tightening of his plates was becoming an annoyance.

Knock Out tsk’d him but didn’t refuse his advances. “If you bite me you’re going back to your quarters with an aching mouth and an aching spike.” Despite a few minute flinches though Soundwave seemed to have no problem with the pain as Knock Out tore out another four or five already damaged fangs. His empty tanks however were another matter. Mouth filled with energon again Soundwave’s claw was twitching, inching further up his intake till Knock Out could feel it butt against his digits. He pointedly poked it back down before going back to applying balm to the holes to encourage them to close quicker. “Watch it~ I’m serious.”

Soundwave tried to keep his composer but he had let himself go in the rhythmic pulse of the medic’s frame and shocks of arousal. He was tired of treatment he was hungry and he wanted the Doctor to play with him. Snapping his panels back he let his thick cable out and slipped it between Knock Out thighs. He could feel the Doctor was warm already. Not even close enough but Soundwave was feeling selfish after a long day and the Doctor was already treating him so why not add one more little problem. He’d save the Doctor’s night like he promised in the end.

Knock Out let Soundwave beg a bit first. Enjoying the way the wires and grips of the mech’s cable searched and buried under his armor to get what they wanted. “You have heard the saying never mix business and pleasure Soundwave? What’s gotten into you? Caught two drones on their off shift? Or…perhaps our glorious leaders leaving you out of their “fun”~”

“You’re just so good at the practice Doctor~ Please I’m in pain.”

“No your not.” Knock Out wrapped a stray wire around a digit and quickly plucked it free from the branch causing Soundwave’s plates to rattle as he cursed. “You don’t like indulging me in that.” Smiling cheekily he rewarded the spy with a sharp snap of multiple panels and some more balm to his throbbing jaw.

Soundwave swallowed his moan as he let himself connect to the Doctor. The mechs port warm, slick, and coated in static despite his professional demeanor remaining intact. It wasn’t nearly as good as the medic could get but for Soundwave it was a great start. Too much energy always made him sick anyway. He let Knock Out’s manipulative field cover him, a soft musical hum not coming from the mechs vocalizer filling his processor. It made him numb but restless as it forced his spark to pulse quicker, stronger.

Knock Out could feel it in his core, Soundwave’s pulse, the feeling exciting the nodes embedded in the walls of his port. It was certainly a distraction. He’d put up with the spy’s impatient teasing for almost two hours now and he was losing himself even though the job was so close to done.

“If I call it quits now do you promise to use the cleaning solution I give you?”

Soundwave’s inner claw shot up and snapped around Knock Out’s wrist, dragging the medic’s servo deeper into the warm pulsing mesh of the mechs intake. The spy chirring again in satisfaction as the finer teeth punctured small holes in Knock Out’s lines and dripped sweet energon and energx.

Recovering from his shock Knock Out’s cheeks puffed out a bit in rage. “What did I say about biting!? I’m not a juice box!” Soundwave just swallowed around the arm in his mouth, the nodes studding the mesh throbbing and buzzing with energy that tickled the medic’s palm. Cupping it Knock Out instinctively fondled the node and cut off a gasp as it made his sensitive digits spasm from the energy.

A blush formed on Knock Out’s cheeks as he shifted to get comfortable in Soundwave’s grip. Leaning close he just pressed a ghost of a kiss to the mech’s headcrest before leaning back to whisper in his audial.

“Damn you Soundwave. You dirty monster~”

#maccadam #transformers #cosmicdanger #valveplug #tfprime #tfp knockout #soundwave #teeth kink #medical kink #soft vore

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