Hunted Species and other TF fictions

The Predacon base was silent this day. ‘Like a crypt…’ thought Megatron, slightly disturbed by his own footsteps. ‘Where are the hell all gone?’ he asked himself, sorting out the different potential answers. Recharging? Recovering from the latest clash – and defeat – against the Maximals? Probably, but not for all of them… Plotting? This would fit BlackArachnia and Tarantulas, and could be applicable to Terrorsaur as well. Testing new weapons? A possibility for Inferno and Skorponok… ‘As long as they don’t blow up the base!’ cursed Megatron, soon smirking as a second thought emerged in his CPU.

‘Well, at least, nobody’s going to call me ‘Queen’ today… Yes!’

It happened sometimes to Megatron to wonder if he had chosen the good crew. Some of his recruits were loyal, but inefficient. Some others were efficient, but not loyal. And another was simply inefficient and not loyal.

‘And speaking of him…’

Megatron stopped walking as his gaze met the familiar red and silver silhouette. Terraursor was nonchalantly resting against the wall, polishing with a pleased expression the cannon of his riffle. Once finished, he checked the efficiency of his work by staring at the barrel and smiled at his own reflection. But the smile soon faded as he held a hand to his cheek and let his fingers wander over his faceplate, insisting where a scar disturbed the harmony of his features.

The Predacon leader felt emptiness in his spark, soon filled with a cold anger. He had particularly made the wrong call with this one. ‘A piece of art! Oh! Yes… Delicately shaped but who could hide deadly weapons. A soul of a mundane, in search of some spice to add to his uninteresting life. A depressed little fool, who needs to plot to overcome me and show himself the meaning of his existence. I should have never hired you… You’re not fit for war; you’re fit for Cybertron and its high society… I hate that kind!”

Silently, Megatron walked closer to his prey, his optics not leaving the still face of the flyer. But even if he hadn’t taken all those precautions, Terraursor wouldn’t have remarked him approaching. He was – obviously – too drawn into his memory to remark anything else but the features of his face. What was he seeing exactly? The neutral who was roaming the hall of the most gorgeous lounges of the capital, admired by all those who crossed his path? Or the Predacon, accomplice of the theft of one of the Cybertronian Treasures? A fugitive from his own Planet who crash-landed on a primitive Earth? A warrior who had gone too far, with no other choice than to kill or being killed? Megatron greeted his teeth as the thought that those questions were very close to his, if not his…

‘Slag you, little fool!’

The jaws of the rex clawed Terrorsaur’s torso with a sharp snap, followed by the gulp of combined fear and pain that escaped the flyer as the fangs dug in the flexible metal. Megatron understood he had snapped strongly, more than ever before. A bit too much maybe, as Terrorsaur, obviously groggy, didn’t try to free himself and looked as his leader with flickering optics. ‘Pathetic… Yes!’ he thought, relaxing his grip and watching with distaste the red transformer falling at his feet.

Terrorsaur let escape another gulp, then heaved himself on his elbows, still trembling from the pain and the surprise caused by this attack.

“Why, leader…? I was doing nothing bad…!” he whispered.

“You were… Yes!” snarled Megatron.

“But… What did I do?”

As an answer, Megatron just stood on one of the slender arms, crushing it mercilessly. Terrorsaur gave out a strangled squeak and seized the foot crushing his limb.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve done nothing wrong!” he whined, throwing a desperate look to his torturer. In a way, that hit something in Megatron’s spark, but he didn’t know what. Or didn’t want to know. Decided to not explore the oddity of this, Megatron bent over his fallen flyer and propelled him back to his feet, just to better slam it against the wall. Pinned strongly, Terraursor could only but look with terror at the purple Predacon. He was at his mercy,

“Why-?”

“Because you refuse to forget what you once were… You’re not this delicate little dandy anymore. Here, you are a warrior, a criminal, and you’re under my command!” barked Megatron, glaring at his captive. “I have the power of life and death over you!”

Terraursor opened his mouth but couldn’t voice a word. He slowly lowered his head, offering no more resistance to the angry warlord.

“I am not the one you think I am,” he eventually murmured.

(continue reading…)

Cybertron, Autobot Allied Forces Headquarters, Detention High-Security area

“Megatron… Do you hear me?”

The voice echoed in his mind, causing system alerts to overflow his CPU. He tried to power his optics up, but his overtaxed system blatantly refused to reboot leaving him the darkness.

“Primus, he’s not answering. Soundwave, is he moving or even online?”

Starscream’s panicky voice reached him again, but the darkness kept enveloping him.

“Status: offline.” he heard Soundwave reply. For the third time, he tried to reboot his motor system, to no avail.

“Oh Primus, no! Tell me he’s going to wake up. Tell me he’s going to survive! I can’t live without him!” Starscream moaned with a sob in his screechy voice. “No, please! Don’t let him die!”

The cries of his lover were so heart-rending that he left no choice to his motor system and forced it online.

“I’m here, Little Prince. Don’t worry!” he assured encouragingly. He turned his head away and scanned his surroundings with great difficulty, his optics misty. “I won’t leave you alone, ever!” he added.

“Oh, thank you Primus!” Starscream exclaimed, a little more serene.

As the mist cleared up, Megatron noticed he was sitting back to the wall, facing another wall soberly painted in blue gray color. On his left, glittering energon bars cast their reddish shadows on his frame.

“I’m in a… cell?” he murmured with surprise.

Right in front of his cell, on the other side of a narrow covered passage, Starscream was kneeling, his wings drooping dejectedly on his sides. The absence of glow in his optics confirmed that he was still blind. Energon tears left a glittering trail along his cheeks, making the Seeker a vivid representation of despair. Megatron felt the urge to take his Prince in his arms and chase away his sadness, but a stabbing pain in his back and shoulders almost knocked him out. He briefly lost his senses and struggled to stay online.

“Megatron… Please don’t move! You’re wounded!”

The worried cries of Starscream reached him again, and he nodded his head gently as he overcame the fainting spell. His gaze finally settled on his right shoulder, which was split open.

“The space bridge… I was shot by Galvatron!” he murmured, the sight of this bleeding wound reviving the memories of his escape. He suddenly felt a pang in his fuel pump as a horrible doubt seized him. “We failed to escape… Galvatron captured us, right?” he asked worriedly.

“Negative. Escape operation successful. Current location: Autobots’ jail on Cybertron.” Soundwave informed him in his droning voice as he stood near the bars of his cell, next to Megatron’s box.

“But… You said they would help us!” Megatron protested before a cough shook him violently. “They put us in jail! What’s going on, Soundwave?”

“Current problem: Autobots believe you are the Slag Maker, their most feared enemy.”

Megatron rested his helmet on the wall and sighed tiredly.

“The Slag Maker, of course… What should we do now? Shouldn’t we tell them about me… and Starscream?” he asked, his mind rushing to find a solution and get his lover out of this hell. In his cell, Starscream, overwhelmed by his emotions, looked even more downcast than a few kliks before.

“Strategy recommended: win the Autobots’ trust and then tell the story. Autobots: compassionate, will understand.”

“Win the Autobots’ trust?” Megatron wasn’t sure whether he understood the point.

“Yes, win their trust. Problem: Slag Maker was violent. Autobots expect Megatron to be violent and cruel. Advice: behave exemplarily.”

The last comment was awkward; with a heavy wound in his shoulder, he was actually condemned to remain unmoving. A new sob coming from Starscream worsened his guilt of being unable to comfort him.

“Don’t worry, Little Prince, we’ll recover our freedom shortly!” he stated to his Seeker.

Starscream nodded silently and returned to his prostration, leaving Megatron some time to rest.

---

Cybertron, Autobot forces Headquarters, Office of Rodimus Prime

“Optimus, what would you do if you were still here?” Rodimus Prime directed the question at the dead leader and looked vacantly at the cityscape of Iacon, knowing that no answer would come. He sank back in his seat and opened his comlink. “Magnus, can you come?” he asked.

(Sure. I’ll be in your office right away!)

A few kliks later, he heard heavy footsteps coming from the hallway leading to his office and a click signalling somebody was typing the code to open the door.

“Have a seat, Magnus!” Rodimus promptly offered to his second in command when the large robot entered.

“That’s crazy… totally mad!” the truck former said as soon as he sat down. “I’m not even sure I can believe my memory bank. It’s just surreal!”

The colorful young leader frowned at the remark. “Are you sure it was Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave?” he inquired.

“Their energy fields betrayed them.”

“Starscream is supposed to be dead, and Megatron upgraded into Galvatron,” Rodimus reminded. “A few cycles ago, our spy satellites transmitted a couple of shots showing Galvatron and his Sweeps opening fire on this… Megatron. How is it possible?” he added, knowing that Ultra Magnus didn’t have the answer.

“I don’t know. As I said, I can’t even believe my own optics.”

Ultra Magnus was the first Autobot to respond to the mayday of the panicky Perceptor. He drove to the outpost of Dark Mount, but when he arrived in vicinity of the space bridge, he had to transform back to his robot mode. The construction had been pulverized by the explosion, leaving some doubts about finding survivors.

‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched’ Magnus remembered a popular Earth saying and grabbed his blaster, ready to fire in case of a Decepticon attack. He slowly entered the ruined circular building, taking care not to trip over a rock or a piece of metal. On arriving in the centre of the space bridge, he lowered his weapon as he discovered bodies lying on the wrecked pavement.

He recognized immediately the white frame of Megatron, who was lying on top of a silver, blue and red Seeker. His arms were firmly snaked around the slender form, and energon leaked from his split shoulder, marring the white paint job of Starscream’s wing in green. Soundwave was not far from them, face turned to the sky. His mask had been ripped off by the explosion, exposing regular features. His Cassettes were sprawled around him, all offline.

Ultra Magnus experienced a sudden dump of his logic chip, and collapsed to his knees.

“Primus, what’s going on here?!”

“Perhaps, it is a strategy of Soundwave to bring down Galvatron: build the clones of Megatron and Starscream and have them attack the Decepticon leader.” Rodimus Prime pursed his lips into a grimace, not convinced by his own hypothesis. “Where are they now? Have you questioned them?”

“They’re in the detention centre, in the high-security area. Last time I checked their status, only Soundwave had regained consciousness. The other two —” Ultra Magnus obviously hesitated to say the names. “Megatron and Starscream’s clones were still unconscious. According to a brief medical analysis, the Seeker had gone through a surgery, and he’s blind. The gunner is seriously wounded in the left shoulder. I’m waiting for your confirmation to send them to the repair bay.”

Rodimus Prime rested his chin on his palm, gazing vacantly as he processed the information. He felt an awkward tingle in his chest as he realized that he was to give an order running counter to the Autobot philosophy of helping people in need. However, he didn’t feel like being lenient with Starscream and Megatron’s clones, in memory of his much-mourned predecessor.

“Keep Starscream in jail, and send only Megatron’s clone to the repair bay, so that his shoulder gets some repair. Make sure that he doesn’t recharge fully; we’re not sure what he’s up to. Once the repairs are complete, I’m going to interrogate him, myself,” the Autobot declared with some uncertainty in his voice. Ultra Magnus stared at him with a dark expression, certainly pondering over this lack of leniency. “Something to say, Magnus?” he asked.

“Stop thinking about Optimus’ death. It won’t make him come back,” the truck former replied as he stood up. “I’ll call you as soon as the gunner is ready for questioning,” he added and then left.

Rodimus Prime welcomed with a sigh the return of silence in his office as the doors closed. ‘I’d like so much to forget Optimus Prime has lost his life because of me, Magnus.’

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, Officers’ Mess

“Perceptor!” Jazz called the microscope-former with some worry in the voice and then ran to him in the hallway. “I heard that something weird happened at Dark Mount.”

The telescope nodded slightly, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Hum, you can’t imagine how weird it is!”

“Weird like what?”

“Weird like Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave coming back to Cybertron through the space bridge that was supposed to be deactivated…”

It was the turn of Jazz to scratch his head with a puzzled expression.

“Poor guy, I think the shock scrambled your circuits!” Jazz patted Perceptor’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Starscream is dead and Megatron has become Galvatron two stellar cycles ago. You can’t have seen them!” he declared. “Come on, I’ll bring you to the repair bay.”

Perceptor swept the vast open space with his optics, making sure that nobody listened to him. “I’m telling you it was Megatron and Starscream. It’s impossible to mistake them for someone else!”

“Perceptor! Perceptor! Man… you’re delirious!”

The two started arguing about the possibility or impossibility of having the highest-ranked officers of the Decepticon army back to life, oblivious to the fact that the increasing noise of their bickering had attracted the attention of two other Autobots. They realized their conversation was being eavesdropped on when a large body cast its shadow over their smaller frames.

“Who are you talking about? Starscream?”

The Porsche-former and the telescope looked up with an immediate realization that the one Autobot who shouldn’t have heard their conversation had caught them bickering.

“Oh, Skyfire, man! You’re pretty silent for a big bot like you. I didn’t hear you coming—” Jazz said, a bit uneasy.

The two smaller bots gulped when they saw the expression of the big shuttle darkening.

“You said Starscream was alive, didn’t you?” He leaned forward so that he could better stare at the optics of Jazz and Perceptor. “Tell me what happened. I need to know.”

”Hum, yes… You want to know,” the microscope stuttered, throwing a desperate look at his companion. The Porsche returned him the look and sighed heavily.

Oblivious that Sunstreaker was listening to the explanations, Perceptor recounted again the incident at the spacebridge and the discovery of Starscream and Megatron. Not a single scrap of the conversation escaped the Lamborghini, who left the command room with a murderous look plastered on his face.

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, Detention High-security Area, Repair Bay

Megatron came back to the world of pain slowly, and moaned when the vivid neon light toasted his tired optics. They adjusted to the light after a few kliks, allowing him to gaze at the dark panels of the ceiling. He realized he was lying horizontally, but the surface he lay on wasn’t the ground of his cell; it was a berth.

“Where am I?” he croaked, trying to come back to a sitting position, and screamed when pain radiated from his shoulder. It was, however, less stabbing than the last time he had woken up; a glance at his shoulder confirmed him that it had been properly repaired. “Who did that?!” he screamed, making a new effort to sit on the berth. This time, it wasn’t pain that prevented him from reaching this position, but the restraints circling tightly his arms and legs. “Why am I attached to this berth?” he roared angrily, pulling strongly on the energy chains.

“Calm down. I just want to have a friendly chat with you.”

The voice came from his right side. Megatron looked around and glared at the form that hid in the shadows of the corner.

“Who are you? What do you want? Where is Starscream?” he barked again, wriggling strongly on the berth. “Release me right now!” he cried, his voice starting to be tainted with despair.

“No, not yet. Not until you tell me who you are, and what you want,” the mech replied, stepping forward so that Megatron could see him clearly.

The mech seemed to be as tall as Megatron was, and built almost as strongly as he was. His paint job was horrendously colorful to his taste, mixing red, orange and yellow shades. His light gray face betrayed his youthfulness; he was certainly almost the same age as he was.

“Who are you?” he inquired again.

“If it helps you to calm down, I’m going to tell you my name: Rodimus Prime, leader of the Autobots.” The mech stated as he crossed his arms on his chest. “And you, what’s your name?”

Megatron bit his lips as an inner voice told him to be extremely careful. He remembered Soundwave’s advices and tried to fight back the aggression that threatened to erupt from his vocal processor in the form of insults and threats. He had always hated finding himself in such a position of weakness, but it wasn’t the time to jump at the throat of the impudent Autobot and slay him; he needed the protection of the Autobots, after all.

“I am Silvergun, but I am also known by the name of Megatron,” he replied, lowering his head back to the berth, trying to cool down.

He heard a light chuckle. Soundly irritating!

“Do you think I’m going to buy it? Megatron is no more, as Unicron had reformatted him into Galvatron. The same Galvatron who had evidently built you and sent you to trick us,” the Autobot replied.

Megatron gave out a tired sigh. ‘Of course, he doesn’t believe me!’

“I am Megatron, before I became the Slag Maker. Starscream was sent to the past. I met him, I fell in love with him, but he came back to this timeline. I followed him, and—” He stopped, realizing that this story was totally crazy and that this Rodimus Prime wouldn’t believe him at all. He had to find a way to convince him; otherwise, Starscream and him might stay in prison, or maybe worse, be executed. He shivered at the thought.

“And? Continue… I find this story very entertaining.”

“I’m not joking! Galvatron tried to kill Starscream, but I stopped him and hid somewhere, thanks to Soundwave. We escaped from Charr to find a refuge here,” Megatron completed. “And then you found us!”

A new chuckled echoed in his audios. The gladiator decided that this Rodimus Prime was a moron.

“I think you have a lot of imagination, but I don’t think this is realistic. Tell me why Galvatron sent you here!” the Autobot leader insisted.

“Not realistic? Grrrrr! You idiot!” Megatron could hardly contain his anger and was sorely tempted to yell insults or threats at Rodimus Prime. Such an idiot would have no chance against him in the arena! “If you don’t believe me, then ask your medics to study me. They’ll discover that I can’t transform and that my mechanisms are outdated. Slag it!” he growled, pulling on his restraints again.

O

Rodimus Prime watched thoughtfully the large silver white mech pulling again on the energon restraints, wondering how long they would resist. He didn’t show much of his feelings, but deep inside, he was shocked by his resemblance with the Slag Maker. The tyrant who had killed Optimus Prime. However, there were small differences from Megatron; Silvergun looked far younger and his body was structured differently. Sure, he looked old-fashioned, but it could also have been a trick used by Galvatron to make this senseless story of “Megatron came from the past” credible. Three points made him doubt this incredible scenario: first, the mech had mentioned he had fought against Galvatron on Charr, confirming the scenes filmed by the security network. Second, Galvatron was mentally unable to devise such a subtle and clever plan. Maybe Soundwave was behind this. Another interesting point was that the Decepticon insignia was nowhere to be found on the silver mech’s body. Totally unusual for a Decepticon!

He startled when he felt a pat on his right arm and looked at Pulse, the medic who had repaired the mech’s shoulders.

“Sorry Pulse, but I haven’t finished the interrogation,” he replied, hoping the medic wouldn’t argue about the fact he was interrogating a wounded prisoner.

“It’s just… When I repaired his shoulder, I found that his parts were very different from what we see in current mechs. I mean, it looked old… very old.”

Rodimus frowned. “What, do you mean he might actually say the truth? That he is a mech from the past!?” he exclaimed, puzzled.

“I suggest you allow me to analyze him. I think it won’t last more than a couple of cycles.”

The Autobot leader stared at him, suddenly hesitating. Wouldn’t it be a pure loss of time? The possibility that this crazy story was right was next to nothing, he was sure of that. Besides, he already hated this mech, the feeling fueled by his resemblance with the Slag Maker. He’d have preferred starting a more persuasive interrogation. ‘How can you think of doing that? Optimus Prime would have never allowed to torture a prisoner!’ he smacked himself and then nodded at the medic.

“Alright, you can examine him.”

“Thank you,” the white and red medic reached for the berth and set a hand on the forearm of the silver mech. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” he assured.

The silver mech replied with a groan and then glared back at Rodimus Prime. The intensity of his glare and his facial expression startled the Autobot leader; he had not the feeling of seeing Megatron anymore, but a gladiator of the old ages.

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, Security Department

Sunstreaker came closer to the Security Director, a little hesitant to alert him of his presence: Firewall wasn’t the kind of mech who liked to be disturbed during his work. In this regard, he was very much like his predecessor, the defunct Red Alert. At the memory of the latter, he felt the need for revenge burn his spark. He had to know about the incident of the previous day and check if the Decepticon leader and his bitch had come back to Cybertron.

“Hello, Firewall. May I ask you a question?” he ventured.

The Security Director looked at him and frowned disapprovingly. “Maybe later. I’m busy now.” He replied, shifting his gaze back to his various monitor screens.

The Lamborghini-former didn’t dare to question further after getting such a dismissive reply, and carefully looked at one of the screens, where the unmistakable form of a Seeker was kneeling in the state of prostration.

“No problem, Firewall. I’ll come back later,” he replied through gritted teeth, making a mental note of the number of the cell. ‘X0078, High Security Area.’

---

Charr, Galvatron’s Citadel, Galvatron’s Quarters

“Slag it!” A new strong salvo of laser fire hit one of the windows and shattered the glass, sending the pieces flying outside. “You slagging fools! It’s your fault if they have escaped!” Galvatron roared, slamming his fist into the remains of his throne, shattering the last armrest.

Seized by uncontrollable, blind anger, he didn’t even realize that the “slagging fools” were all gone, hiding away from the wrath of their crazy leader. Even Cyclonus had given up all ideas to stay by his side after a punch had sent him flying against the wall of the quarters, knocking him into a brief stasis.

“I swear, Soundwave, once I get my hands on you, I’ll reduce you to scrap metal!” the crazy gunner roared, seizing the shattered throne to throw it around with brute force. The piece of furniture slammed into the wall, falling apart. “You hear me, traitor, I’ll do the same to you!” he shrieked.

As usual, when he lost his temper beyond reason, his CPU started to overheat, and he ended up on the floor, losing consciousness for a few kliks. He rebooted slowly, feeling drained and defeated.

“Slag it! Slag you all! There is only one Decepticon leader in the Universe, and it’s me, Galvatron!” he muttered through gritted teeth. He felt his spark ache as an awkward complex of inferiority overcame him. “I am the greatest Decepticon warrior and leader of all time! Megatron was nothing in comparison to me! Nothing!” he cried as if to convince himself.

He offlined his optics and remained unmoving, appreciating the feeling of freshness coming from the floor. He started to cool down when he heard soft clicking and pounding. He sat up with a start, scanning his quarters with a sudden anxiety which he couldn’t explain. The clicking and pounding continued, obviously coming from the nearby of his desk.

“What the slag is this?”

Galvatron rose to his feet and walked to the desk, kneeling prudently to have a look at its lower portion. The clicking and pounding continued, stronger this time. The Decepticon leader outstretched a hand, feeling for the cause of this noise, and withdrew it immediately when he felt sharp knives trying to cut it. He jumped backwards, watching with inexplicable fear a small body bolting out the cover of the desk and running for cover at the other side of the room.

“Cyclonus! Scourge! I’m under attack!” the Decepticon shrieked, rushing outside his now hostile quarters.

Now alone, the mysterious invader came out of the shadow of a shelf: it clicked its claws and took a scout around in search of a better hideout.

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, Detention High-Security Area, Repair Bay

“Rodimus Prime, I know what I’m going to say looks senseless, but—” the medic scratched the back of his helmet, unsure of himself.

“You seem uncomfortable,” the Autobot leader replied, peeping at the silver mech strapped on the berth. The latter replied by a red glare and a grimace. “Have you noticed something?” he asked, shifting his attention back to the medic.

“He’s not like us: I scanned his whole body, and according to the structure of his frame, it appears that he’s unable to transform.” The medic paused, nodding softly. “I know it looks crazy, but it’s the truth. Besides, the metal used for his chassis had been processed according to a technique which doesn’t exist anymore.”

Rodimus Prime frowned at him. “What technique?” he asked.

“A technique used by the Quintessons, before the Golden Age, if I’m right.”

“Are you trying to tell me that this Transformer is indeed coming from the past of Cybertron?” Rodimus Prime asked, towering over the smaller robot. “Do you realize this is totally insane?”

The medic hunched up his shoulders and looked up warily. “I know it sounds crazy, and I have no explanation for this. But yes, technically, he’s a model built by the Quintessons before the Golden Age. The Quintessons’ seal is engraved on his spark casing.”

The Autobot leader sighed heavily and glared back at the berth and its occupant. He walked to the silver mech and leaned forward, looking at him in the optics.

“Who are you exactly?” he inquired, slightly unnerved.

“I’ve told you already: Silvergun a.k.a. Megatron, before I have become the Slag Maker.” The silver mech allowed himself a smirk. “What’s going on? Has your medic confirmed to you that I’ve been built eons ago, and you don’t want to believe him?” he gloated.

“I’m not in a joking mood, Decepticon,” Rodimus Prime retorted before opening his comlink. “Magnus. Can you come? We’re escorting our prisoner back to his cell.” He informed.

The mech on the berth started wriggling violently trying to extract himself from the straps, growling like a cornered animal.

“What’s your problem, you moron? Can’t you accept the truth, even though it’s hard to believe?” he shouted, “I AM NOT THE SLAG MAKER!!!”

“I know you are not him, but I don’t know what’s hidden behind this farce. Until I find out what’s going on here, you’ll stay in your cell!”

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, Officer’s Mess

“Really, Megatron looked like he was an old model who came from the far-off days of Planet Cybertron. Maybe it was because of all the dust that covered him,” Perceptor added, sipping from an energon cube. “Starscream himself was a little different from his usual self. His glass cockpit was gone, replace by a metal one.”

Skyfire frowned when he heard this new piece of information, which prompted a very precise memory from his databank. “Do you have a video of what you have seen?” he inquired.

“I have, but I’m not sure I’m allowed to disclose it to you. There is an on-going investigation conducted by Rodimus Prime; I should ask him first.”

“Perceptor, I need to see what Starscream looks like. I might have information that could aid the investigation if I can verify something very important,” Skyfire insisted in a stern voice, giving a piercing look to the smaller mech. “Please, this is really important.”

Perceptor seemed to be undecided for a few kliks, which was easy to understand: Rodimus Prime didn’t like it very much when one of his soldiers disobeyed his orders. “Okay.” He finally complied, “open your comlink, I’ll send you the file.”

The shuttle nodded in acceptance and waited until he got the file. He feverishly decrypted the video, feeling a pang in his spark when he recognized the shape of his former friend. “Primus, he almost looks like twelve million years ago, when I first saw him!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Jazz and Perceptor blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?” Jazz inquired.

“When I was ordered by the scientific council to take care of Starscream, he looked like the Jet-former on your video!”

“What… What happened twelve million years ago?” Perceptor asked.

“I was summoned by the head of the scientific council…”

O

“You asked me to come, Lord Hadopix?” Skyfire asked, bowing to his superior.

“Yes, thank you for coming, Skyfire. I have an unusual request to make, but I’m sure that a warm-hearted scientist like you will understand and accept the responsibility.” The Lord informed him and then pushed a button to activate a screen. The camera broadcasted a scene taken in a repair bay, with a flier lying on a repair berth. “We found this young Seeker in a dump, ready for the smelting pit. Somebody had dumped him there, unconscious, his memory bank empty, exposing him to the risk of being melted alive.”

“That’s horrible!” It sent shiver’s down Skyfire’s spine just thinking about it.

“You know all the troubles caused by the Decepticons, and their current manipulations to acquire the Seekers for their cause. Moreover, there is this “Megatron”, who has just assassinated Lord Skullcrusher. The Seeker might have seen too much to be left alive…”

“What do you want me to do?”

Lord Hadopix crossed his arms on his chest and started to pace up and down.

“As you know, we are neutrals and venerate life as the most important thing in the Universe. We have to protect the young Seeker from whoever had tried to kill him. Secondly,” the master scientist paused and threw Skyfire a vibrant look. “If he knows something which could help stop the escalation of violence caused by Megatron, we should find it out.”

“I understand and I am fully ready for this mission, my Lord.” Skyfire bowed once again, proud that his superior trusted him with such an important mission.

O

“Woooow! Incredible! Who would have thought the little jerk had started his life like this?” Jazz exclaimed, scratching his helmet in disbelief. “What happened next?”

“Starscream’s memory had been completely wiped out. He didn’t even remember his name. I understood he was named so because it was written on his right arm. I wonder who could have been so insane to do it.” The shuttle sighed deeply as he replayed the scene. “Anyway, I took him under my wing. He proved to have a gift for sciences, and he quickly learned all the scientific matters needed to become my assistant.” He completed. “Starscream was very different at that time; shy, uneasy, lacking self-confidence.”

“Man, something must have happened to him!” Jazz concluded and then eyed his two companions with worry. “Don’t you think we should contact Rodimus Prime and inform him of this story? It might be linked to yesterday’s incident.”

“Yes, of course. I don’t mind telling him what I know,” Skyfire approved.

“Okay, I’ll try to contact him,” Perceptor informed, immediately trying to open the channel with the Autobot leader. He got only statics in reply. “Slag, he must have cut the comlink. I wonder what’s going on.”

---

Cybertron, Autobot Forces Headquarters, High-Security Detention Area

Sunstreaker was relieved when the main doors of the detention area opened. As one of the few survivors of Optimus Prime’s Earth Team, he had access to almost every place of the Headquarters, including the highly secured areas.

He easily found the two robots he was looking for, given that they were the only prisoners in custody in this top security wing. Soundwave was leaning back against the wall, looking at his cassettes which had fallen asleep around him. Starscream was kneeling in the state of prostration, gaze focused on an invisible point of his cell. Far from arousing pity or sympathy, Sunstreaker felt pure hatred for the Air Commander and decided he would be the first one to pay. Tightening his grip on his blaster, he strode resolutely into the passage-way.

O

Soundwave immediately looked at the hallway when he heard the footsteps and couldn’t suppress a shiver when he saw the Autobot with his blaster. He quickly penetrated the mind of the intruder, deciphering his intentions with little effort: “Killing Starscream to avenge his defunct companions.” He immediately jumped to his feet, awaking his Cassettes in the process.

“Mayday! Mayday! Autobot assassin in the detention area! Request help by Autobot Senior Officers!” he shrieked to the surveillance camera.

His little bots started to shout, wail, scream, and groan in order to attract the attention of the guards who were certainly monitoring the place. They all screamed in horror when a shot hit Soundwave on the shoulder, sending him flying against the wall. The Communication Officer slid slowly to the ground, knocked-out.

“Wait for your turn!” the Autobot coldly replied.

“Hey, he shot at Soundwave!” Frenzy shrieked.

“Open this cell if you’re a bot! We’re gonna transform you into scrap metal!” Rumble threatened.

The Autobot didn’t bother looking at them and stopped in front of Starscream’s cell, deactivating the energy bars.

O

The cries of Soundwave and his Cassettes woke Starscream from his prostration. The footsteps stopped in front of his cell, and the energy bars were shut down.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” he whined, feeling overwhelming fear seize him. He tried to stand up but failed, as he still hadn’t recovered his strength.

“Somebody to punish you for your sins, murderer!”

The voice was harsh, filled with anger. Although he couldn’t see, Starscream felt the presence of the enemy, standing right in front of him, and feared the worst. Without a warning, a strong kick in the face sent his head smash to the floor, threatening to shut his motor systems down. He yelped in pain, and then screamed when a feat dug in his back.

“Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet and Brawn. Does it ring a bell in your devious mind?”

“Please, stop it. I’m not the same anymore!” the Seeker whined. “Please! It hurts!”

“I saw the black box of their ship? I saw you shooting at them with Megatron in your hands. Primus, you butchered them all! It’s your turn to suffer to atone for your crimes!” the punisher retorted, smashing his heel into Starscream’s shoulder.

All that the Seeker could do was cry out in agony.

O

“We can’t let Starscream to be butchered by this slagging Autobot!” Rumble groaned, watching the Seeker getting beaten to a pulp with burning optics. “Frenzy, activate your pile drivers. We gonna pulverize the whole place!”

The two Cassettes replaced their arms with their pile drivers, and immediately hammered the ground with as much strength as they could muster. Their action caused the whole detention area to shake, crevices starting to run through the walls, the ground and the ceiling. The Autobot lost his balance and fell to his ass, giving a break to the poor Seeker.

“Keep going! Keep going!” cried Rumble to his brother.

O

“What is that mess!?” Rodimus Prime groaned.

Ultra Magnus, the prisoner and himself had just set foot in the detention area when a strong shake threatened to throw them out of balance.

“Primus! It must be Soundwave’s Cassettes, Rumble and Frenzy!” Magnus replied, gripping the door hard. “We should have disabled their pile drivers!”

Far from decreasing, the shakes rocked the place even more heavily. Blocks of metal fell from the ceiling around them. Despite the rumble, small voices reached their audios.

“He’s trying to kill Starscream! HELP!”

Rodimus Prime recoiled in fear when he saw the change in the expression of the prisoner. Once again, the self-proclaimed Megatron looked like one of those terrible gladiators of the past; a beast ready to tear his opponents into pieces with his bare hands, wallowing in their energon blood. He was even more frightening than the Slag Maker, his optics burning like two flames in his silver faceplate, distorted with anger. As he had feared previously, the killing machine broke his chains with a roar, wasting no time to send Magnus and himself crashing to the ground with powerful punches. The Autobot leader saw stars for a few kliks but forced himself to stay online, as he realized that the situation was getting totally out of hand.

“Keep your hands off him!” the gladiator howled, rushing into Starscream’s cell. “You’re dead!”

“No! Stop!” Rodimus knew his pleas were useless and shook Ultra Magnus, who was also struggling against unconsciousness. “On your feet, Magnus, we have to stop him before it ends up in a blood bath!” he urged.

The two Autobots helped each other rise to their feet while shrill cries of pain and dull noises of punches reached their audios.

They ran to stop the slaughter, discovering with horror the scene of Sunstreaker being shattered into pieces by the silver mech. Their primal instinct dictated them to strike; they attacked the massive silver robot together, forgetting that it was against the Autobot warrior code. Putting all their strength in the kicks and punches, they managed to knock the gladiator out, who fell on the body of a badly beaten up Starscream.

“Primus, what the hell was that!?” Ultra Magnus whined as he sank to his knees.

Breathless with stupor, Rodimus Prime leaned against the wall, grateful for the support that prevented him from collapsing to a heap. His optics made a sweep of the security wing, transformed into a desolate battlefield. Soundwave was still unconscious in his cell, energon bleeding from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. His Cassettes were around him, shaking him and crying his name. In the cell, Sunstreaker lay in a pool of energon, an arm and a leg missing. Starscream, somewhere between consciousness and delirium, held possessively the unconscious gladiator in his arms, crying as he caressed his scratched faceplate, begging his lover not to abandon him with incoherent pleas.

“Primus, I should have foreseen this tragedy! I should have been able to avoid this!” Rodimus Prime moaned, feeling guilt squashing his spark.

Once again, he felt he wasn’t worth of being the successor of Optimus Prime.

Go to: Chapter 12 – Chapter 14

Charr – Soundwave’s quarters

“Here it is, it’s almost done!” Hook declared as he welded the last floating panel on Starscream’s wings, hiding the delicate wires and parts linking the appendage to the Seeker’s body. “Let go of his wing so we can check if the repairs are good enough,” he told his assistant.

Soundwave complied silently. The wing bent with a creaking sound and came to rest along Starscream’s back, his right arm and a part of the repair berth, without breaking.

“We’re done with the last one!” Hook outlined a smirk; “We’re lucky he’s no longer a tetra jet!” he chuckled.

“Can he transform and fly?” the Communications Officer ventured.

“Oh no! Not yet. He will have to go through quite a long re-education and a couple of surgeries to change most of the flying sensors measuring lift and traction forces and link the new ones to the flying equipment,” Hook explained, wiping the remaining oil off his fingers. “What we did is nothing else than field repairs. High quality field repairs, I should say, what with the extensive wounds of the flyboy. His life is not in jeopardy anymore, but the most delicate repair work must be performed by a real medic who is competent in Seeker’s technology, Soundwave. I am afraid that we don’t have such a gem in the Decepticon army,” he said regretfully. “There is no real medic in the Decepticon army. On Cybertron, on the other hand…”

“Is Hook trying to say: go to the Autobots?”

“I’m saying go somewhere where they have a real Cybertronian medic if you don’t want to see Starscream disabled for the rest of his life,” the Constructicon corrected. “But, yes, there are good medics on the Autobot side. I heard that Ratchet, the C.M.O. who was killed during the attack on the Autobot City, had very skilled students.”

“Problem: Autobots will never help Decepticons. Starscream still registered as a war criminal by Autobot authorities although he is recorded as deceased.”

Hook nodded: he was himself registered on the list of Decepticons to be put on trial for the destruction of Crystal City.

“Sure, they might pull a face if they see you coming with a young Megatron and a supposedly dead Starscream, requiring medical assistance and political asylum, but… Hey! Isn’t that better trying to convince them rather than being blasted to oblivion by Galvatron?” he remarked.

“Reasoning: logical. I must study various parameters to assess the level of danger of such a surrender.”

Hook reached again for his patient, turning Starscream’s face to have a better look of the ripped optics.

“If you want my opinion, don’t wait too long to make a decision,” he warned trying to examine the cut wires. “I can’t see properly. Can you help me turn him over?”

The two Transformers grabbed the limbs of the unconscious Seeker and engrossed themselves in the difficult task of turning this huge dead weight over without ruining the repairs. Although he looked slender, Starscream was still a large mech; not as large as Soundwave or Megatron, but still weighing several tons.

“Here we are, let me have a look at your pretty optics, Screamer.” Hook joked, scanning the damage inflicted to the optical components. He finally shook his head: “I can’t repair them. Such wounds are beyond my competence. I will cover them with glasses so that impurities wouldn’t ruin the inner circuits further, but you will have to find a medic specialized in optical surgery if you want him to see again,” he announced.

“Let me guess: a proper medic on Cybertron?”

Hook nodded in approval. “Yes, on Cybertron. I know the name of the right medic: Ocular. Another student of Ratchet.”

“Question: how do you know about Ratchet’s followers?”

“Let’s say… one of my dreams was to become a certified medic, like him. I failed the entry exam – got only 79.98% of the required mark while Ratchet got 99.88%. The guy was a genius in robotic medicine.”

“I see.”

Soundwave watched the Constructicon fix some small pieces of glass to replace the optical components of the Seeker, pondering on the advice he had received. Their future hardly looked bright since their options were reduced to being arrested by the Autobots or executed by Galvatron. Soundwave did not delude himself: he had gone too far in aiding the two fugitives. He knew perfectly that he risked being executed for high treason towards the Decepticon cause if he stayed on Charr.

Speaking of Megatron… He had certainly read the message left by the Slag Maker, and should now have more information about this vicious circle. His curiosity had grown considerably and he wanted to know more than his Commander saw fit to tell him. He suspected that the vicious circle had occurred several times, at least twice in the past, but nothing indicated it hadn’t crushed the two lovers several more times. He also assumed that the course of events differed slightly every time, but it always led to Starscream’s death and the rise of the Slag Maker. However, he lacked evidence to support those assumptions either.

“Soundwave leaving to check status of Megatron, upstairs,” he informed.

“Yep! I’ll call you once I’m done with the optics,” Hook replied, concentrating on the delicate operation.

Soundwave quickly climbed up the stairs and felt a pang of worry as the silence of his quarters surprised him. His Cassettes were oddly quiet, not daring to make a noise to disturb their guest. Megatron was still sitting at the desk, his forehead resting in his hands, as if he was crying. His fusion cannon lay next to him, and the axe had been abandoned in the corner, leaving the gladiator defenceless.

(continue reading…)

Megatron stifled a moan when pain radiated from his neck. Well, he believed it was his neck, as most of his systems were still in recharge mode. He was not with it.

‘Primus, I’ve fallen asleep!’

Panicked at the idea he had allowed himself to recharge and was now attacked by an enemy, he powered his motor system in emergency, and almost fried some of his circuits in the process. His optics came back online, allowing him to catch sight of a dark form, leaning over him. He withdrew his cannon-equipped arm from under Starscream’s back and aimed at the intruder.

“Get off me!” he screamed.

“Megatron, calm down! This is Soundwave!”

The gladiator stopped powering up his cannon just before it shot the Communication officer in the face.

“Never do it again!” Megatron barked. “And by the way, what were you doing?”

Soundwave lowered his arms that he had raised protectively in front of his face.

“Repairing your neck and shoulders. Wound still bleeding.”

‘My neck and shoulders…’ The reply of the blue Decepticon and the fresh wave of pain that came from his upper back reminded him that he wasn’t fixed yet.

“Couldn’t you wake me up before working on me?” Megatron protested, trying to not show he was in pain.

“I thought you needed rest. Please, turn to your flank, so that I can carry on with the repairs.”

The gladiator complied grudgingly and returned to his position, leaning against Starscream. He startled as he suddenly feared that the Seeker was deactivated, but was relieved when a faint moan escaped his lips. Slowly, the Seeker came back online, his first reflex being to check if the bot reclining with him was his gladiator.

“My memory chip wasn’t damaged. It was really you.”

Megatron decided to ignore the violent pain that shot from his neck, where Soundwave was welding broken wires.

“Of course it’s me. Who else would be able to follow you, Little Prince?” he murmured reassuringly and then kissed his Seeker on the lips. To his relief, the Seeker relaxed against him and didn’t mention anything about the pitiful state of his body. He even drifted back into recharge, snuggling comfortably against him.

Once he was sure that Starscream wouldn’t listen to the conversation, he dared to ask the question that burnt his lips.

“What is the situation?”

“Not too bad. Galvatron was overexcited, CPU not functioning properly. Shot his two lieutenants during the short meeting,” Soundwave replied, working on the last leaking pipe. “Ordered the lockdown of Charr: no communication with the outside world, no travelling outside and to search for his aggressor in the citadel.”

He kept silent during a few minutes, deep in his repair work.

“Is he stupid or what? He really thinks we are still in his lair?” Megatron couldn’t help chuckling. “This bot really has a glitch! How can he be a commander?” he snorted before he got a reminder from his data bank that he would become this glitch bot.

“He’s Galvatron; an improved version of Megatron the Slag Maker in terms of power, but deprived of common sense or sanity.”

Soundwave pulled on a wire for the last time and closed the panel protecting Megatron’s neck.

“How long do we have before he starts searching the quarters around the citadel?” asked the gladiator, relieved that the repairs were finished.

“A megacycle, maybe less. All depends on Galvatron’s mood and capacity to listen to Cyclonus and Scourge.”

“Not good. That means we will have to find an escape way very quickly.”

“This is not an option.”

Megatron remained silent, assessing the situation.

“You have to repair Starscream without delay.”

“I will. I’m going to work on his wings as soon as possible.” Soundwave assured.

“Perfect. Don’t forget you owe me an explanation about the Slag Maker. How did he know I would come and that Starscream would be injured?”

The visor of the Communications Officer flashed nervously.

“Explanations will come shortly. Advise: take time to clean up. Preparation of the repairs ongoing.”

Megatron lowered his gaze and had to admit the sight was quite unsavory. Congealed energon tarnished his silver paint job, drawing dark figures on it. Starscream was no better, his unique colourful paint job covered with a thin greenish layer of energon.

“Do you have a coolant shower?” he ventured.

“Upstairs.”

Megatron left Starscream reluctantly and climbed up the stairs as Soundwave suggested. The little creatures he had met the day before were still there, scrutinizing the surveillance camera with great attention. They turned their tiny optics in his direction and observed him when he appeared in the room. The gladiator tried to ignore them and scanned the place, in search of the coolant shower, but didn’t find it. Soundwave’s quarters were large and cosy, divided into rooms with regard to the presence of doors in three of the walls. Megatron wondered briefly who Soundwave could be that he had such nice quarters.

“Looking for something?” asked the little purple bot.

“Hum… Well, yes. The coolant shower.”

“Over there!”

Megatron nodded in acceptance and proceeded to the indicated room. He was once again surprised by the comfortable spaciousness of the shower room, as he was more used to the small size of his own quarters. He walked to the bathtub and pushed a button, letting out a cry of surprise when warm coolant splashed generously from the showerhead. He was used to the trickle of water from his shower, pouring coolant sparingly due to poor infrastructure, but not to such a tsunami.

“It must be broken,” he muttered as he offlined his optics, enjoying the delicious read-out created by the liquid running over his sensors. “A pity Starscream can’t get off his berth,” he sighed.

He then noticed a container at the opposite corner of the shower and a piece of synthetic fabric.

“Perfect.”

(continue reading…)

“You’re already dead!”

Starscream pressed heavily on the body of his opponent, squeezing hard Galvatron’s throat. The Decepticon warlord thrashed beneath him, and finally managed to grab him by the wrist and push him away. Starscream landed on his flank but didn’t lose his cold blood; he set the barrel of his null ray on the joint between Galvatron’s waist and chest plating, and fired at full power. The Decepticon warlord gave out a cry of pain, while electric spasms shook his body. Starscream shot five more times, aware that if Galvatron was paralyzed, his victory was assured. It was only when smoke rose from the body of the shocked mech that he stopped.

“I told you I would win… Now, you are at my mercy!” he breathed, climbing back onto the body of the groggy Transformer.

His rage for revenge vanished when he looked closely at Galvatron’s face, so similar to Megatron’s. Pain came back to his spark together with guilt. He knew he had to kill, but he suddenly felt the need to say good bye to the one he had abandoned without an explanation.

“I had to leave you behind, Silvergun,” he apologized as he lowered his face, stopping an inch from the lifeless faceplate. Their lips brushed slightly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t try to save you and let you become this monster. That was beyond my strength,” he apologized with emotion.

Starscream closed the remaining distance and covered softly Galvatron’s lips in a good-bye kiss. The peace in his mind fell apart when a fist shattered his cockpit and dug in his chest. He tried to withdraw but a hand fell on his backbone and forced him to keep the kiss sealed, while the ferocious mandenta bit him viciously. Starscream understood his impending demise when Galvatron switched their position, pinning Starscream under his greater weight without regard to his wings, which twisted in the process. The Seeker shrieked in pain so loud that his vocal component almost gave up, to the greatest pleasure of the warlord.

“Now, YOU are at my mercy,” Galvatron sniggered with a sadistic look in the optics. “Or should I say, you have to deal with my lack of mercy.”

“No, please—!”

Galvatron set a finger on Starscream’s faceplate, and traced up the dark line on his cheek.

“It’s too late. I’m going to punish you for your arrogance and your treachery, little fool.” The tyrant retorted, ignoring his pleas. “Something that Megatron should have done a long time ago. What a pity he had this fondness for you…”

“I’m begging—!”

Starscream choked with fear as Galvatron set his finger beside his optics and caressed his temple, drinking at the terror that played in the jet’s red mirrors.

“Why not rip out these beautiful optics of yours for a start? Those deep crimson red lakes Megatron liked to drown in!”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

(continue reading…)

Megatron woke up from his recharge with a splitting headache as if Skullcrusher had pummeled him during his sleep. Mechanically, his hands searched for the comfort of his lover’s body, but found nothing but cold emptiness.

“Little Prince?” he called, suddenly nervous.

He sat up on his berth and made a grimace when his neck and shoulder reminded him of the attack he had been the victim of.

“Starscream?”

The scan fed back what his spark had already told him; Starscream was no longer here.

“Love?” he called again, not willing to realize his Seeker had gone.

Pain came with certitude that the flyer had left him without a goodbye, and worse, with the report that his CPU had been forced. He stared blankly into the darkness of his quarters, while his spark split in two in his chest and energon rose to his optics. His world was falling into pieces, and he could do nothing to preserve it. Then anger popped in his CPU, inflamed his spark and warmed his circuits, while burning tears streamed along his cheek. He soon suffocated with this anger growing in every circuit, and slammed his fist against the metal of the berth, damaging it.

“Why have you betrayed me, Starscream? You don’t have the right to leave me behind!” he screamed, punching with all his might the metallic surface. He stopped only when pain stung his shoulder and neck. He set his gaze misty with tears on the axe and the black cannon resting against the grayish wall.

“I’ll bring you back, Starscream. You’re mine! I won’t let you go away from me!” he growled.

(continue reading…)

The Seeker stirred a little and set his hand by his side. Mechanically, azure fingers explored the metal of the berth in search of angular surfaces and cool metal to caress. They found none. Slowly, ruby red optics flickered to life and a sleepy dark face rose from an ocean of gold.

“Megatron?”

Disconcerted by the absence of his partner, Starscream scanned the darkness of their quarters and then stared at the material that covered him. It was a thin film of metal, treated to absorb the energy of the berth and recharge passively the Transformer who would wear it. He had once seen some copies in one of the Museums of Cybertron, and had found the idea interesting but old-fashioned.

“Megatron?” he once again called, to no avail.

Starscream sighed and checked his internal clock. Never in the past had he recharged for such a long time, and at the same time had felt so relaxed. He sank back into the berth and pulled up the blanket, falling down into a sweet feeling of comfort. Then he played the movie of the previous night. Thousands of feelings and sensations washed through him as he recalled the lips worshiping his face and the hands caressing so sensually his frame. He shivered at the memory of the heat in his chest when Megatron’s spark had embraced his life core. Some guilt tainted this precious memory: he had given himself to the Transformer he would hate the most in the future. He had let him love him without restraint, for the sake of pleasure. His pleasure…

What should he do now? Wait until Megatron returns and welcome him with tenderness, like a bondmate should do? They were not exactly bonded… Walk outside in the search of the gladiator and fall into his arms? He could do it, but it seemed out of character… Or just walk away, find the space and time bridge, come back to the future and have his revenge against the mysterious robot that had shot him to death? Starscream tensed up at the recollection of pain he had felt when the shot had hit him in the chest. He wanted revenge. He needed to be considered the leader of the Decepticons again, and not a miserable little gladiator hiding in the depths of planet Cybertron. The most important thing when living a dark chapter of History is to be at the top of the chain of command, not at its bottom.

“I need Megatron anyway,” he whispered, remembering that the entrance of the time bridge was at the place where Megatron had found him. Only the gladiator knew where it was…

O

Starscream exited from the small quarters a few minutes later, and stopped at the edge of the terrace in front of the door, scanning the vast termitarium in search of the familiar silver silhouette. He didn’t want to wander too long among the locals of this hole. He finally detected him close to a giant driller, surrounded by three greenish mechs.

“What is he slagging doing?” Starscream murmured.

(continue reading…)

“Am I dead?”

Starscream woke up gradually from the void, his motor system rebooting slowly. He first caught the noise of machineries; he was certainly somewhere nearby a production line or a repair bay. Then he realised his position: he was lying on a berth, and something heavy was resting against his chest. He powered his optics on, and stared at the black ceiling of a repair bay. It was an old construction, judging from the decrepit state of the panels; some of them were lamely hanging, ready to fall down.

He looked down and recognized immediately the silver cask that was resting on his chest. Megatron’s optics were dark as he was still offline. He was sat on a crate and was half leaned on Starscream’s upper body so as to watch over him. He didn’t have his cannon attached to his right arm. Guilt seized the Seeker as he replayed the last moments before he lost consciousness. They had kissed. Primus, did Megatron have memory of this?

He set his hand against the silver white cask, and caressed it lightly while he wondered about the confusion created by that kiss. Did it mean he enjoyed being with the gladiator? No, it couldn’t be! After what he had witnessed, he could feel compassion, pity or even worry for the mech, but no more. Certainly not desire or even tenderness. He couldn’t disassociate the image of Silvergun from the image of Megatron in the future. The Megatron he hated so much, who abused him, hurt him, and humiliated him.

He had kissed him just because he was exhausted and confused by the situation.

“Starscream-?”

The Seeker withdrew his hand as he heard his name. Red optics were peering at him from his chest, while a black hand travelled to his waist. Slowly, Megatron straightened up covering him with his deep ruby-red gaze. Something had changed in his expression; a warm smile lit up his harsh features.

“Feeling better, Little Prince? You really scared me to death!” he said so softly that Starscream understood that he did remember the kiss.

His confusion and shame worsened when Megatron helped him to sit up, gently pulling him by the waist and shoulders.

“I can sit by myself,” he retorted. Primus! The touch was so good on his plating.

Megatron didn’t let go off his waist, observing him carefully. He was standing very close to Starscream, a little too much actually. The Seeker swung his legs over the edge of the berth in the hope to have him step back. His action didn’t get the result he expected; Megatron didn’t move and Starscream’s legs were stuck against his thighs. The Seeker gasped when a black hand set on his hips, pulling him close.

Starscream looked up slowly and was startled by the affection he read in the other’s gaze. Not only did Megatron remember the kiss; he liked it, and perhaps, wanted more.

“Where am I? What had happened?” Starscream whined, increasingly upset. He had to run away from the gladiator’s affections before they got out of hand.

“We’re still on the run, in the old galleries of Cybertron.” Megatron stepped back a little, allowing Starscream to sit a little more comfortably, but kept a close contact. “However, I think we’ve found possible allies.”

“What do you mean?” Starscream was still feeling insecure, as if the hands of Megatron were burning holes in the metal of his skin.

“When I awoke from my delirium, I found you were almost deactivated… on top of me.” He lowered his voice and his face, peering at the Seeker. Starscream felt the danger of a new kiss and turned his head aside. “I connected your spark chamber to mine to secure its energy supply. I then sent a distress signal in order to be quickly found by whomever would catch it. I supposed that the Vampiricons would be the first to dig us out of the pit, but to my surprise, others received the signal and came to rescue us.”

The meaning of the second part of the sentence totally escaped Starscream. He glared with horror at the gladiator.

“You… linked… our spark chambers… together?” he stuttered, considering the intimacy of such an act.

“I didn’t have any other choice. It was a question of avoiding deactivation. Your deactivation.”

Sickened by the idea that Megatron had reached such a level of intimacy while he was unconscious, Starscream forced him to let go of his waist and hips, and trembling, wrapped his arms around his own torso as self-protection.

(continue reading…)

In an unknown area, below the gladiatorial area

The sinister noises reached them and made their energon ran cold. The Vampiricons were getting ground by the minutes, and soon would corner them in those dark tunnels.

Starscream tried to speed up but Megatron’s legs gave up, and they fell harshly on the paved ground. The young gladiator coughed some energon and gave out a growl of pain, shaking like a leaf.

“On your feet!” ordered Skullcrusher, glaring at him.

“Leave him alone!” retorted Starscream, glaring back with the same intensity.

Skullcrusher walked up to them, peering at Starscream with a disdainful expression. He stopped in front of him and slapped him in the face, sending him crashing against the wall. He then grabbed Megatron by the throat and hauled him to his feet.

“You want your little friend to remain unharmed and unscathed? Then walk!” he shrieked in the audios of the smaller mech.

Megatron looked up and choked a new cough of energon. “Y- Yes…” he breathed.

Skullcrusher let go of his killing choke with a growl of satisfaction, soon echoed by the shriek of the approaching Vampiricons.

“They’re coming! We have to move on!” gasped Hellraizor, “I really think we should negotiate. Trade those two stupid heaps of scrapped metal for our lives!” he added.

“We’ll do so in a few days. The Quintessons are too outraged at us now. They’re going to kill us if we show up!” retorted the master gladiator, pushing Megatron without care. “And you, walk!” he hissed.

The silver-white Transformer stepped forward, trembling as if he was about to collapse to a heap. Starscream wiped off a trickle of energon that flowed from his cut lip component, swallowed his pride and stood up, promptly offering his support to the injured robot before he collapsed.

“Hey! I’m here… Hold on a little more until we find a safe place!”

Megatron threw him a blank stare and wiped a trickle of energon off his lips.

“Escape… Run away from here…” he whispered, exhausted.

Starscream couldn’t help squashing a hint of compassion when he looked up at the gladiator. Megatron’s face was distorted by an expression of pain, darkened by the energon running from his lips. He was on the way to deactivation and his life energy would be soon extinguished if a medic didn’t take care of his wounds.

“Don’t say stupid things,” he retorted, “I won’t abandon you here!”

“Oh, that’s so touching!”

The snigger of Hellraizor came together with a strong slap on Starscream’s back. The Seeker’s body slammed against Megatron, almost bearing them to the ground.

“Walk!”

“You’re not helping, idiot!” Starscream hissed, tightening his grip on Megatron’s back. He peered at the moribund Transformer, “Don’t give up!” he whispered, trying to be encouraging.

Megatron nodded weakly and stepped forward, his whole body trembling as he moved. Starscream prayed to Primus that he didn’t faint under the effort.

(continue reading…)

Palace of the Quintessons, the Alphar

The Arena

“Those were just some warming up exercises… Now, we start the wild things!”

Raising his axe over his head, Skullcrusher gave out a bestial cry and charged at Megatron and Starscream. Strongly believing that only a fighting bull could hold out against another fighting bull, Starscream hid prudently behind the tall figure of his fellow gladiator. He was no more paralyzed with fear but his instinct of conservation told him that he had everything to lose – especially some parts of his body – if such a bulky Transformer crashed into his delicate frame. The tension he felt on Megatron bore out this idea, and he braced himself for the impact.

“Move out!” Megatron suddenly shouted, pushing him aside, away from him and Skullcrusher but straight in the path of Hellraizor. “Keep him at bay!”

O

The two axes clashed violently. Megatron felt the vibrations created by the shock spreading from his hand to his shoulder and then to his whole body, disturbing his internal circuitry and his sensor network. His optics flashed a deep red when he had to step back, the opposite strength of Skullcrusher becoming hard to contain.

“So what now, Silvergun? You’re not bragging anymore?” the champion scoffed when Megatron stepped back again.

“Don’t crow over your victory so quickly!” Megatron replied through gritted teeth, “I haven’t said my last word!”

“How, sure… because your last word will be for you to beg at my feet!”

(continue reading…)