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.

(Cybertron, some days before the theft of the Golden Globe)

The red flyer lowered his head, obviously not able to stand his intense glare. ‘That doesn’t surprise me…’ thought Megatron, shifting his gaze to a couple of bots who were staring in their direction. He frowned, cursing inwardly Dinobot for organizing a meeting in a public area. He was not so popular since he had been on top of the news for being an active member of Predacon activism. The nickname he had chosen, referring to the starter of the Great War, didn’t help at all. But looking better at the two androids, he suddenly realized that it was not him who attracted the attention, but the red and silver Transformer in front of him. His glare came back on the smaller robot and he sighed. Oh sure, he was beautiful! A shining faceplate with regular and distinguished features delicately chiseled and enhanced by the shine of wide red optics. His scarlet wings were attached on his back, fitting perfectly the curve of his silhouette. The chest was plain, the waist narrow and the design of the silver legs perfect. It remembered one of the stories about his namesake. He had a beautiful Second in Command: treacherous and rotten to the spark, coward and paranoid, but a true silver and red jewel, as it was reported by both Decepticons’ and Autobots’ chronicles. And that Megatron of the ancient time liked to torture– both mentally and physically – this Seeker of the ancient time… Some of the texts spoke even about a love-hate relationship between the two, leading them straight to their common doom.

‘Hum, at least, the original Megatron had a major weakness… While I have no one!’

But back to reality… Megatron just reminded himself he had business to do here…

“Dinobot, is this a joke?” he boomed toward his “partner”, who frowned his harsh features, “I asked you to find warriors! Not fashion plates!”

“I’m not a fashion plate! I can show you!” retorted the flyer of a screechy voice, clenching his fists.

The gaze of Megatron felt again on the red and silver robot, who this time, glared back.

“Interesting, yes! Looks like we have here a little fashion plate, with a problem of vocalizer but anyway some courage to look straight into my optics…” Megatron mocked, leaning over the smaller silver frame, “Do you think I’m impressed? Well… NO!”

He couldn’t suppress a grin when the flyer stepped back prudently.

“Leave him alone, Megatron… He’s a brilliant pilot and meets the requirements. He’s the only one able to get into the space hangar without activating the alarms… With Waspinator, of course!” explained Dinobot.

Megatron grinned even wider, showing his fangs. He suddenly reached his hand to the face of the flyer, cupping gently a cheek.

“Tell me Dinobot… Aren’t you afraid he’s going to break into pieces? Such a delicate little thing!” he laughed, his finger outlining now the silver lips.

He however withdrew it quickly, avoiding sharp little fangs to dig into his hands.

“Yeees! The little marvel knows to byte!” he cackled, interest now showing in the glittering of his optics.

“Indeed… And I can hurt as well! Put me to test, I’ll show you I am the right ‘Con to fit in your team!” stated proudly the flyer.

“Well, well, that’s so nicely asked,” said Megatron, putting a large hand on the small shoulder, inviting insistently the flyer to walk to the exit of the hall. “I am finally willing to see what you’re made of… By the way, what is your name?”

“Terrorsaur.”

Megatron welcomed the answer by an amused laugh.

“That’s not a name that fit your looking, but anyway, let’s see if your skills and acts impress me better than your appearance. Yes!”

“Where are you bringing him?” asked Dinobot, annoyed.

Megatron looked at him over his shoulder.

“Not your business… How much does he know about our “little” project?”

“Enough to be part of the team… Now, where are you going?”

The purple ‘Con grinned, while his hand slid on the back of Terrorsaur, pressing him to speed up. The flyer complied without a word, but could hide a kind of displeasure appearing on his features.

“Dinobot… You – better than any others – should know that I am the one who signs contracts with members of the team, which I write at my conditions!” Megatron said, waving his free hand, his fingers twitching slightly as to emphasize his words – one of the many tics Dinobot was now used to.

“You mean?”

“Or might not sign it as well. I let you guess…“

“I was not complaining about my past!” protested weakly Terrorsaur, optics pleading for mercy. “Just pondering my present… Until-”

“Until what?” shouted Megatron, increasing the pressure on the restrained shoulders.

“Until you’re doing what you’re doing… Please… stop! It’s just killing me.”

“That’s too easy, Terrorsaur… I’m fed up with your attitude, not acceptable at all for a warrior! I should disfigure that pretty little face of yours, so you put more spark in battle rather than in your well-being or well-looking.”

Megatron emphasized his threat by shifting his rex headed-hand close to Terrorsaur face; some of the sharp fangs pressed again the silver plate, living dents on the cheek and at the corner of the mouth.

“I’m acting like a warrior! I’m not obsessed by my appearance! Please, you don’t need to do that!” pleaded the flyer.

“Do not mock me! I saw you just minutes ago, almost crying about the scar on your face, instead of patrolling around!”

“Did I complain about this scar? No, not all! Rhinox made it during last battle, and as a warrior, I’m decided to repay him in kind!”

Megatron growled frighteningly, glaring suspiciously at his victim.

“You would do that? I doubt of this! You lack the most obvious courage and strength!” the tyrant spat.

“Don’t you remember that some months ago I was the one who blasted your body into pieces, like Optimus Primal himself would have never done!” screeched Terrorsaur.

The optics of Megatron burned of a madden fire at the memory. He pressed stronger the rex-head against the flyer’s faceplate, digging the fangs in the metal, making the pterodactyl transformer moan of pain.

“Do you think it will save you to remember me you’re just a traitor…?” he hissed. “You’re stupid!”

“No, but… it will just… remind you that… I am not the weakling and… incapable warrior… you think I am,” Terrorsaur gasped, “If only … you could see me… with different optics.”

Megatron growled again, staring without emotion at the energon trailing down the face and the throat of his soldier.

They have been walking for a good half an hour now, leaving the magnificence and lights of the City Theatre, taking the direction of the Northern part of the city. Megatron didn’t speak a word during this time, absorbed communicating with his other accomplice. Dinobot had been especially annoying, asking – on the tone of order – to bring Terrorsaur back to the City Theatre so that they strike the deal – all three together.

‘Afraid for your little protégé?’ Megatron giggled inwardly and peeped at the flyer. The faint light of the street beautifully enhanced his face and body, making look like an apparition. ‘So Dinobot, you’re afraid I gonna break him? I will do it, indeed… Yes! His place is not in the team. The project is tough and I will accept no weakness. This one is weak… And unfortunately for him, he knows too much!’

“Where are we heading to?” asked Terrorsaur, breaking the concentration of Megatron on his last answer to Dinobot.

He quickly typed a last “You know what, Dinobot? Slag yourself! I am the one in command!” in response to the unceremonious “Slag you! Megatron! I told you Terrorsaur is valuable to the project, and you just act like a blind idiot!” then stared at the flyer, increasing purposely the intensity of his optics to look more menacing.

“You’re not the one who’s asking questions here, Precious!” he replied with a smirk. “I am the interviewer, and you are the interviewee… Yes?”

“My name is not “Precious”, but Terrorsaur. And…. Yeees!”

The joke didn’t pleased Megatron at all. His large hand aimed straight at the throat of the flyer and he slammed him against the next wall.

“I want things clear, you little fool… I am the one in charge here! I don’t accept rebuff, contradistinction, or bad joke. You got a minus five on your final score…” he stated.

“I didn’t meant to offend you,” replied Terrorsaur.

“Sure… Yes…I suggest you to think better before using your vocal unit! Am I clear?”

The flyer nodded, fear playing in his optics. Megatron secretly enjoyed the sight and the power he had over him. And a new idea was now playing in his mind. ‘After all, if the original Megatron had his Starscream, so should I have mine…’ he thought, releasing his grip on the silver neck. Terrorsor trembled slightly when his feet came to contact with the ground, but didn’t fall.

“That’s perfectly clear, sir” he spoke, once he reclaimed control of his vocalizer.

“Perfect… Now come! We already lost enough time!”

O

Terrorsaur kept silent the rest of the time, until they arrived to a place occupied only by high-rise buildings, of several hundred-meters high.

“This is the Cybertron Trade Centre, isn’t it?” the flyer exclaimed, soon rewarded by a growl.

“Terrorsaur, what did I tell you?” warned Megatron.

“Sorry, sir… No word before being allowed to speak.”

“Then try to remember next time… Now, follow me!”

They walked to a building built a little apart from the others and walked up the main stairs. Megatron beckoned Terrorsaur to follow him on the side terrace, which offered a protected view over the main entrance of the next building.

They stopped at the edge of the terrace, and Megatron smiled to himself, as Terrorsaur was trying hard to stop himself asking questions. He then walked closer to the flyer and reached the riffle hung on his back, brushing a wing by the same time. Terrorsaur gave out a strangle gasp of surprise.

“Now, tell me… What a neutral is doing with such a weapon hung on his back? That’s uncommon, especially for a being looking like you… so precious. Yes!”

The features of Terrorsaur tensed up, but the flyer didn’t dare protesting against the last comments. ‘Oh, this is fun! Really fun!” Megatron wore a grin of triumph.

“I- I am a Predacon,” rasped Terrorsaur, “My creator used to serve on Megatron’s Decepticon army, so I am considered as a Predacon by the Maximals authorities…”

The optics of Megatron blazed of a ruby red light. “You’ve been created by a former Decepticon, uh? And who was it?”

“A Seeker who used to serve under Air Commander Starscream. He told me that my design are inspired from him, and so is my voice.”

“This is interesting, very interesting indeed… Yes…” replied Megatron, considering the new job description of this recruit. He let off the riffle and stood a little away from the flyer. “Take your weapon, Terrorsaur… And come right here.”

The flyer complied, despite his visible reluctance to be close again with Megatron.

“You see the entrance, and the guard on duty just before it?” asked the purple ‘Con, pointing at the next building.

“Yes…”

“Very well. Then… Kill him!”

The optics of Terrorsaur widened under the shock.

“What! No! Why?”

“Shoot him to death… That’s just an order!”

“But why!?”

The words died in Terrorsaur’s throat when the hand of Megatron shot around, squeezing hard.

“Why? Because it’s an order from me… Whatever I ask, I’m expecting you to obey, smoothly and without question!” purred Megatron, shaking the lithe frame, “Now, either you take the life of this guard… Either, I take yours!”

He released Terrorsaur’, pushing him away. The flyer trembled, reaching his throat with a shaking hand, coughing slightly.

“Do it now!” barked Megatron, taking his own riffle and aiming at the flyer’s head.

The face of Terraorsaur lost his grace to turn to the most complete horror. He seized the weapon on his back and took position against the wall of the terrace. Breathing hard, he tried to calm himself and stop trembling.

“Last chance, Terrorsaur!” warned Megatron, pressing even so slightly the trigger. He grinned seeing the flyer quivering at the sound of the click-click of the mechanic inside the barrel.

The finger of Terrorsaur clenched the trigger of his weapon, trembling even harder. Then, he pressed it…

Megatron looked over his shoulder, and saw the guard was down. He grinned of triumph.

“Well done Terrorsaur… Now, get on your feet!”

The flyer stood up slowly, still trying to hide he was shaking. Vain effort, as he trembled doubly hard when Megatron stood in front of him and bent over him to whisper in his audios.

“You made a good job… You’re a great gunner, however next time, I expect you to obey a little quicker to my commands… Yes?”

“Yes…Sir!” stuttered Terrorsaur.

“Very well… I advise you not to stay here too long… This place will be full of Maximal’s agents in few minutes. We’ll meet tomorrow in a place I tell you later… Welcome on board!”

And with his last tirade, Megatron left Terrorsaur. He just looked over his shoulder once he was at good distance and smiled when he saw Terrorsoar had collapsed to his knees.

“Yes… Welcome on board… Starscream!”

“Tell me… With what optics should I consider you?” growled Megatron, still menacing Terrorsoar’s face with the sharp fang of his T-Rex head.

“I am not weak… I am not stupid! And I wouldn’t be treacherous if you didn’t always push me so hard to the edge of patience!” gasped the flyer.

“Oh, really? You lied to me from the beginning about your origins… And you pretend you’re not a liar and a traitor!”

The optics of Terrorsaur shone of utter surprise.

“How do you-?”

“How do I know? Simple: you lack of the most basic knowledge about the Decepticon history, which is unforgivable for someone who is supposed to have been built on the model of the Second in Command of Megatron!” stated the Predacon’s leader with anger. “I understood this when the original Starscream showed up and possessed Waspinator… You didn’t recognize him at all!”

Terrorsaur lowered his head, looking devastated.

“You’re just a neutral, who wanted to add a something what in your tern existence! So you lied to me to join the Predacons. But you see, Terrorsaur… Facts and acts speak louder than any words!”

The flyer gave out a sob.

“Yes I am a neutral, but only on the paper. I’ve never fit with the neutral’s society. I like using weapon… I am asocial, insecure and egotistic. Some of them said I was just irrational and violent, and that I had better being created as a Predacon. That’s why I came to you and lied on my origins. I regret it now. Not because it brought me on this planet and on the middle of this war. I’m completely fine with it…”

Terrorsaur looked up at Megatron, so straight in the optics that the warlord loosened his grip on his prey.

“I regret I lied so much well. You hired me just because you saw in me somebody to play the part of Starscream! You’re so eager doing better than the original Megatron, or copying him. You needed a Starscream of your own, somebody you could torture, beat for any reason, manipulate to your own purpose, make him treacherous just to have the pleasure to dish him punishments. I’m just a toy for you, not a soldier, just a toy that make you believe you are like the real Megatron, am I not?”

Energon just froze on Megatron’s circuits at the last scream and he stepped back, releasing Terrorsaur. The flyer, exhausted and bleeding slid silently on the floor; he tried to stay in a sitting position, but finally sprawled on his belly. Megatron stared at the battered and now still form, processing gradually what had just happened.

‘Fool! Why didn’t you try to escape away from me from the beginning!” he wondered, kneeling at the side of the fallen form. He turned over the body and looked at the face of an unconscious Terrorsaur. Ho! He had done well, ruining the left side of his face and tearing apart his chest! ‘What did I do? I’ve almost destroyed one of my soldiers. He’s right… I’ve always considered him as a toy, to share another characteristic with the real Megatron. I am completely focused on becoming him, that’s why I can’t win the war…”

Megatron stayed unmoving and stared at the face of Terrorsaur, feeling stupid. He was just like a child realizing he had broken his favorite toy. A few sense of reality somehow back, he picked up the body and took him in his arms. Once Terrorsaur was secured against his chest, he made his way to the CR Chambers.

“Well… Well… What happened to him…Uh?” asked Tarentulas, standing in front of Megatron.

“We were battling against some Maximals… Terrorsaur got hurt in the process!” replied Megatron dryly.

Tarentulas chuckled of his unnerving laugh.

“Really? That’s so kind from you to bring him to the CR Chamber! That’s not your habit…”

“Shut up! Damned spider, and launch the healing process!” spat Megatron.

Ignoring any further the scientist, he placed Terrorsaur in the CR Tank, making sure his limbs were not too uncomfortably set.

“Here… And now, have some rest…” he whispered, caressing the untouched side of Terrorsaur’s face.

He frowned when he heard the so characteristic chuckle. He turned around and pointed the scientist with his T-Rex head.

“And last thing, Tarentulas, I want his face repaired… As soon as possible! And I want him as perfect as before! Clear?” he boomed at the spider, who saluted humbly.

“Yes, oh mighty one! He will be just as perfect as usually he is before he ‘displeases’ you!”

Megatron glared at him a last time before exiting hastily.

O

Tarentulas waited the warlord was out of sight to come to the tank, and have a better look at the wounds of Terrorsaur.

“So… So… My Lord? Wounds made by the Maximals, uh? But as far as I know, none of you have left the base today, and no Maximal can make that kind of wounds… Only a T-rex can…”

The spider bent a little further, now smirking bitterly just at the thought of the long working hours that were awaiting him to give back Terrorsaur his normal face.

‘Have you got a memory failure, oh mighty Megatron? That’s not the first time you knock him out, just at the corner of a corridor, for whatever reason… But I have to recognize you’re more sadistic every time…’

He reached the chest were his tools were stored and came back to the tank, thoughtful.

‘And now that your favorite toy his broken and out for a good while, who will be the next?’

Back to his command room, which was fortunately still deserted by the others Predacon, Megatron sat in silence to his usual command chair. Oddly, he thought he heard at the back of his mind a voice whispering to him.

‘Excellent, my dear namesake… Excellent! You start to reach my standards! Next time, I’m sure you’ll do even better!’

He took his head in his hands, and bent over his knees.

“Primus, that’s right… I am becoming insane!”

THE END

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.’

“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.

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.

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.

“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!”

“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

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.”

Soundwave once again inspected the wires in Starscream’s back, wondering how he would relink them to the sensory network of the two severed wings. He had extensive knowledge in electronic and medical engineering, but the task was arduous for him alone. His only hope was that a certain green Con’ accepted his request and came without delay to perform the repairs.

“You can fix him, right?”

The Communication officer looked up at the gladiator, hesitating to reply that he might not be able to repair Starscream. He finally decided to lie in order to avoid potential outburst from his guest.

“Affirmative. Gathering of the needed materials ongoing,” he stated monotonously and climbed the stairs.

Starscream moaned lightly when a sweet sensation of warmth blossomed on his face. He felt a trickle of liquid run down his cheek and stop at the corner of his mouth. He parted his lips and tasted what he identified as coolant. Another warm caress graced his forehead, sliding slowly to his temple. A hand rested gently on the back of his neck, lifting his head a little. The warm sensation traveled from his chin down to his throat. Somebody was bathing him.

“Megatron?”

“Shh. I’m here,” the gladiator whispered in his audios. “I’m washing you a little. I think you will feel better afterwards.”

Already too exhausted to reply, the Seeker let him continue his careful work. Starscream’s mind quickly drifted, carried away by the gentle caress on his wounded body. He imagined himself in Megatron’s arms, lips and limbs locked as their cores became one, like the first time they had shared intimacy. Primus, it was only a few megacycles ago, but it seemed like an eternity had passed since that sweet first time. If only he could be back in time, and avoid the mistake of abandoning Megatron; they wouldn’t be trapped here, at the mercy of Galvatron. Why did he always have to make bad choices?

“Here. Your paint job is clean, Little Prince.”

The murmur in his right audio was followed by a kiss on his lips and a gentle caress on his cheek. Starscream sobbed as he judged himself to be the worst idiot of the universe.

“I don’t deserve your attention, Megatron. I betrayed you. I was so stupid! I—” He cried.

A hand covered his mouth gently, silencing him.

“Yes, you acted like an idiot, and I can’t forgive your betrayal completely. I just hope that from now on you will trust me more and consider my feelings towards you,” Megatron murmured, “No more betrayal,. I don’t know what I’ll be able to do if you deceive me again,” he added and then brushed his face against Starscream’s face plating. “Don’t push me away anymore, and I will be forever by your side,” he pleaded.

This was enough to lead Starscream to a complete breakdown. Sobbing uncontrollably, he managed to grasp Megatron’s shoulders and clung at him.

“I will try… yes! I will try!”

Soundwave caressed evasively the cover of the box, still hesitating to open it. His dreamy thoughts were disturbed by the door signal, telling him that someone requested entry.

“Be on your guard!” he warned his cassettes. He motioned noiselessly towards the door and scanned it. He got the feedback of an energy field he knew quite well; his guest had arrived. “Disengage weaponry,” he called as he typed the code to unlock the heavy metal doors.

A short green bot was standing straight on the first step, grazing the floor nervously with his foot.

“I don’t think I’ve been followed. May I enter?” he asked.

“Please, proceed, Hook.”

The Decepticon so addressed stepped inside and looked disdainfully at the mini-bots who were grinning at him.

“No bad jokes, you two, or I step on you!” he warned.

“Wanna try, big bot?!” Frenzy challenged with a scornful smirk, which disappeared from his face as Soundwave dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Okay, boss, I’m going back to the surveillance camera,” he complied with a sigh.

Hook welcomed Soundwave’s order with a nod of satisfaction.

“Why did you want to see me in your quarters? You didn’t tell me much yesterday, after this crazy bot of Galvatron dismissed us – Argh! Slag this liability!” Hook pretended to spit on the ground to emphasize his disgust for the current Decepticon Leader. “It seemed to be a kind of… a question of life and death,” he added, regaining his composure.

“Assessment correct,” Soundwave stated and pointed at the hole leading to the hideout beneath his quarters, “The reason is downstairs.”

Hook looked perplexed but didn’t ask any further questions, certainly accustomed to the laconic explanations of the Communications Officer. His short, pronoun- and article-deprived sentences, recited in a monotonous tone, were after all his trademark.

“I hope it is worth all this mystery!” Hook retorted, looking bored. “That’s enough with Galvatron and his stories of Starscream’s and Megatron’s ghosts!” he muttered.

As expected, a shrill cry of surprise grazed at Soundwave’s audios when Hook reached the bottom of the stairs.

Megatron kept his cannon aimed at the green robot who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, mouth gaping in surprise and optics blinking, as if he was about to short-circuit.

“Oh, by Primus and all the pits on Cybertron, how is this possible?! Holy slag, you’re-”

Overwhelmed by surprise, the green con wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

“Oh yes, who am I?” Megatron asked defiantly.

“You’re Lord Silvergun… before we, the Constructicons, reprogrammed you into Megatron the Slag maker!”

The gladiator lowered his weapon in surprise.

“Constructicons… reprogrammed me? How and when did it happen?” he asked. He glared at Soundwave who had just landed by the side of the newcomer. “Is this your explanation or another trick of yours to destabilize me?”

“Negative. Information that Hook already knew you were missing,” the Communications Officer replied and then peered at his guest, “Hook, further explanations are required!”

The Transformer so addressed pointed at Megatron, looking completely panicked.

“You came to us one night, covered with energon. You looked completely depressed and suicidal-”

“So it’s you, the famous Constructicons?”

The six Transformers looked warily at the grayish bot who was standing in the frame of the main door of their hangar. They knew him already as he was the public figure of Skullcrusher’s faction, the most popular one for his young age and his status as a hero of the Liberation War against the Quintessons. However, instead of respect, his appearance triggered a salvo of danger warning flooding their battle systems. Lord Silvergun was literally covered with energon from head to toe and his red optics flamed with the light of craziness.

“Lord Silvergun, what happened to you?” Hook ventured.

“He killed my love, so I killed him and his lackeys as well!” The energon-stained warrior chuckled insanely, “And now, I have nothing left but memories of him… Memories that are killing me slowly… so, so slowly.”

Hook beckoned his fellow Constructicons to stand back, as the energy field of their visitor flared with dark anger and despair. Something awfully wrong was going to happen, he could feel it.

“Who killed who? What are you talking about?” he shrieked.

The optics of the young Lord Silvergun lost their threatening expression and turned blank.

“Skullcrusher killed my Little Prince, so I killed him. And now, everything is gone but the memories of my Love!” he spoke in a broken voice. The next look he threw at Hook showed he was totally crushed by grief. “I can’t keep them anymore. My hopes had been destroyed. I thought I could win against destiny, I was wrong!” he cried. “I can’t live like this anymore! Delete everything!”

“I asked you to erase my memories?” Megatron asked in surprise.

“Oh, not only your memories, but you also requested us to incapacitate a great part of your emotional system, so that most of your emotions would be reduced to almost nothing!” Hook corrected, shaking his head. “That was dangerous on many counts. Therefore, we refused. You then took Bonecrusher and Scavenger hostage, placing a collar linked to a detonation system around their necks, stating you would terminate them if we refused!” he breathed.

“I did that?”

“Yes, you did! We obeyed and made the necessary reprogramming as per your request. You also had your face plate changed, so that you looked older and crueller. When all the modifications were done, you left without further harm to us. A few megacycles later, we heard rumours that Lord Silvergun had killed Lord Skullcrusher, and had been executed by the late warlord’s lieutenants. You, under the identity of Megatron, an obscure follower of Skullcrusher, took power over his faction, the Decepticons,” Hook explained with fervor. “That was the starting point of the Decepticons’ rising on Cybertron!” he completed.

“That’s a total crap!” Megatron barked. “The resemblance between me and the Slag Maker is so obvious! Don’t tell me everybody ate this without a second thought!”

“Of course there were suspicions, but everybody was afraid of you. Nobody asked questions, and we, the Constructicons, kept silent about your reprogramming, in fear of your wrath.”

The young gladiator opened his mouth but vocalized no sound, as he was struck by the awful realisation.

“Skullcrusher, I swear, if I come back to the past, I’ll kill you before you take on Starscream!” he finally muttered, banging his fist.

“Starscream? What does Starscream have to do with -?” Hook suspended his sentence as he discovered the battered form of the Air Commander. “Oh Primus! He used to be beaten to a pulp by Megatron, but never to such extent!” he exclaimed, scanning the major wounds rapidly. He suddenly stopped and looked up at the gladiator. “It’s you who attacked Galvatron, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s me. My only regret is that I didn’t put him out of commission before he did that to Starscream!” Megatron replied vehemently.

“You will certainly have other opportunities to fight him. He’s looking for you, and he will certainly order to search the entire camp very soon.” Hook covered everyone present with a concerned look. “Potentially, we all are in danger,” he added.

Soundwave preferred to leave Hook answering the torrent of questions that Megatron had decided to pelt him with. He quickly climbed the stairs, and took the box that he had put back in a sealed safe. He set it on the command board of his desk, and checked the cover nervously. Everything was so linked together; there was no room for luck or misfortune. Starscream’s and Megatron’s fate was already decided, put repeatedly at stake as the vicious circle played out time and again. How many times had Megatron asked him to open this box and give the presents to the two designated bots. Should he open it this time, or disobey the orders to try to break the circle?

“Boss, are you okay?”

Soundwave looked down at Rumble and Frenzy, who were observing him with concern. He realized that he had been motionless during a few nanoclicks, his right hand hovering in the air.

“Status: no malfunctioning. Return to your work.”

“At your command, boss!”

The two Casseticons left him to the contemplation of the box. Brushing his fingers over the cool metal, Soundwave’s hands found their way to the lock and the small control panel. The secret code given by the Slag Maker was quickly typed, and was followed by the soft noise of the cover sliding aside to open the precious safety box.

There were two objects which Soundwave identified as a data pad and a small Transformer. The sentient being was the size of his fist plus his forearm, and looked oddly like an Earth insect called scorpion. The Communications Officer hesitated for a nanoclick and then tried to seize the small form, encouraged by its apparent lifelessness. He quickly withdrew his hand when two red lights flashed on what resembled a head, and its claws threatened to shred his fingers. He stepped back as a very much alive metal insect jumped out of his prison, claws pointing at him.

“State your identity!” Soundwave warned, peeping furtively at his blaster, unfortunately out of his reach.

The scorpion responded with an animalistic hiss and, taking advantage of Soundwave’s dismay, jumped from the top of his desk to land close to the entrance door. He crashed against it, as if intending to demolish it, but the door held out against the impact. The scorpion-former did not seem knocked out or disoriented, and quickly changed his strategy: he started melting the metal of the right-hand corner with a small soldering iron equipped in his mouth.

“Open the door!” Soundwave ordered as he understood that this thing wanted to get out of his quarters at any cost.

The doors of liberty opened for the scorpion, who immediately scuttled along the street, clattering on the surface of the pavement with his claws. Then he abruptly stopped and started scratching at the mixture of rock and metal, digging his way out.

Stunned, Soundwave and his Cassettes made no move until the tail of the “thing” disappeared in the hole he had dug.

“What… What was that?” Rumble stuttered.

“Crap! This thing was… scary!” Frenzy added.

Soundwave looked at them over his shoulder. His main processor, usually very quick to assess a situation and suggest a solution, was rather clouded if not out of commission.

“Boss?”

Soundwave failed to answer.

“BOSS!” Rumble cried, “The door is open. This thing could come back, or somebody else could break into these quarters…”

A very wise remark, which brought Soundwave to reality.

“Probable identity of this creature: a gift from Megatron to Galvatron,” he stated laconically and then stared at his Cassettes. “First assignment—you mend the hole and hide any trace of this creature around our quarters,” he ordered.

He then grabbed the data pad and reached for another drawer. He opened it feverishly and withdrew a small data-pad reader, equipped with an antiquated large keyboard and a ridiculously small screen. This was the first thing he found when he had come back to life as Soundwave, without any memories of his former life and with a smiling Megatron staring at him.

“What is the second assignment?”

“Show Silvergun how to use this old computer.”

Soundwave walked down the staircase slowly and found Hook already working on repairing Starscream’s wings. Megatron was by his side holding up one of the severed appendages while the Constructicon was connecting a pipe. Starscream moaned in return, and dug his fingers into the metal of the berth.

“You’re hurting him!” the gladiator said in a tone of reproach.

“I’m trying my best!” Hook retorted without looking up. “I’m not hurting him for pleasure. It’s a very difficult surgery,” he added to justify himself.

“You’d better be more careful!”

Soundwave noticed easily the young gladiator’s growing aggravation as the latter tensed up and glared at the medic with a predatory look. Megatron was on the verge of bursting in anger.

“Megatron’s presence is requested upstairs for explanation about the current situation,” he informed promptly, well aware that he had to draw him away from Starscream for the duration of the surgery to avoid any complications.

“No way, I’m staying!”

“Megatron, your priority is to read the message left by the Slag Maker.”

The gladiator glared at him with blazing optics. In addition to his obvious anger, Soundwave could read a certain hesitation in his energy field.

“I can’t leave Starscream like this!”

“Megatron’s competence in repairs is not sufficient for this surgery. I will assist Hook,” Soundwave insisted, trying to be convincing by forcing his voice to become less monotonous. “Now, please, go upstairs and read the message. This is important!”

Megatron glanced at the battered form of his lover with worry in his optics and then looked back at Soundwave with a defeated expression.

“Okay.”

Reluctantly, he let the Communications Officer grab the wing he was holding and climbed the stairs, throwing a last look at the Seeker.

“Slag, he’s really in love with the little fool,” Hook murmured, welding the second pipe. He stopped, however, when Starscream wriggled in pain. “I think we have to put him to sleep if we want to do clean repairs. Besides, I don’t want Megatron to smash my face because Starscream is in pain. Do you have some thanatorgon so that we can put his systems on standby?”

“In the medicine cabinet.”

The Constructicon left his task briefly to have a look into the designated cupboard.

“Hum, it is well-stocked. You have really prepared everything down to the smallest detail,” Hook commented, slightly amused. “I hope you are going to brief me on what’s going on here.”

“Priority is to repair Starscream. Explanations to Hook are of secondary importance.”

“Secondary importance, eh? You know, since I’m sure you’re perfectly able to speak like a normal bot, I think that you should tell me everything you know. We’re potentially in a big mess!”

The green mech came back to his patient’s side with a small flask filled with grey liquid. He extracted from a subspace a small needle, which he fixed onto the cover of the flask. He then palpated Starscream’s inner pipes in search of the main fuel line, which he found quickly.

“What… what are you doing? Get… your hands… off me!”

Hook smiled when he heard the so familiar pleas, shrieked in a so familiar screech. For one reason or another, Starscream had always hated being touched. Except by Megatron, which earned him punches and ill attention.

“Yeah, I know. Be a gentle sparkling, and have a good nap while we repair you,” he said in a mocking tone.

“No… NO! Leave me alone!”

Hook ignored the weak pleas of the Seeker and injected the whole content of the phial into Starscream. The Seeker’s system reacted almost instantly as Starscream went limp, barely able to voice his fear.

“Sil… ver… gun… Me… ga… tron…” He made a noise that the two Transformers identified as a sob, “I… love…”

To the relief of Hook and Soundwave, Starscream fell into recharge before he could make any further disturbing noises.

“Okay, let’s work on the wing you’re holding. I have to warn you; this will take time. A very long time!” Hook declared, resuming the delicate work to fix the pipes and circuits one by one.

“Necessary tasks will not be avoided.”

Megatron sat at Soundwave’s desk, looking suspiciously at the two small bots who were bustling about activating a data pad, connected to an odd-looking screen. Strangely enough, the device gave an impression of modernity and obsolescence all at once: it was far more advanced than the one he was accustomed to using, and at the same time, its dented casing bore witness to a long history of accidents.

“Here, take the headphones!” the purple one said as he handed the small pieces of black plastic to Megatron.

The gladiator didn’t bother to thank him and placed the headphones on his audios, wondering why they were taking so many precautions. The screen suddenly flickered to life, showing the silver bucket-head of an old looking Transformer, tearing a cry of surprise from Megatron.

“Greetings, my dear Megatron, or should I say, Silvergun…”

His own grating voice echoed in his audios, challenging his logic chip. This was a total nonsense!

“If you’re watching this video message, it means that I’m dead or not exactly myself, and that Soundwave followed my orders. I know that this must look like a total nonsense to you—it happened to me as well, when I was young, when I was you, but I need all of your attention.”

The gladiator felt an urge to stop this video, go and find Soundwave and smash his face for subjecting him to this farce, but he stayed riveted to his chair.

“Excellent. I know you are in total disbelief, but you’re still watching me.” The silver Transformer chuckled loudly and then regained his composure. “We’re caught in a time circle, a very vicious one. It always happens the same way; Galvatron kills Starscream in this time and my treacherous second in command is sent back to the past, where he meets you at your young age. Quickly, you fall in love with the winged beauty, and even when he rejects you and returns to his future, you follow him. And then,” the Slag Maker smiled savagely. “The turning point!”

At this point, Megatron was unable to tear his optics off this face; the representation of the monster he would become.

“You’re trapped on Charr, with Starscream wounded by Galvatron. I asked Soundwave to help you escape this trap, and he will. I guess you are surprised to hear this; as I mentioned previously, I have already experienced this,” the Decepticon warlord stated in a tone of confession. “Last time, I was stupid enough to look through Soundwave’s archives, look at all records of myself as the Slag Maker and was revolted enough to go back to the past with Starscream. I was like you, you know, a candid mech who couldn’t bear the thought of what I would become. How stupid I was!” The Slag Maker dismissed the moment of emotion, pretending to laugh madly. “What am I saying? I am the Slag Maker!” he chuckled.

“This is madness!” Megatron brushed the screen with a thumb, tracing the features of the mech. It was a perfect representation of him!

“Oh, yes… What I’m saying is crazy… but far less cruel than the fate that awaits you and Starscream if you return to the past. I know it very well, as I am victim to this fate.” A new chuckle followed this assessment: “Victim… This word really doesn’t suit my current image,” the warlord said between two laughs.

“What happened to me that I became you?”

“Yes, fate. Or should I say, mistakes of my own, my inability to get out of this vicious circle. I don’t believe in fate, or luck… but I have to admit, I’m caught in something I have not yet found a way to escape from.”

“I don’t believe in luck either!” Megatron couldn’t help murmuring. He was actually beginning to lose faith in everything.

“However, I am very determined to try and escape it again. I know I have tried and failed every time, but I’m sure there is a way to escape this nightmare. Therefore, I warn you; never go back to the past!” The Slag Maker insisted on the screen, “Nobody can change the past; only the future can be changed!” he declared sternly and then lowered his voice, looking suddenly sad. “You don’t want to live what I’ve gone through again. Losing him hurt me so much that I lost the taste of life. I had to find something else to fuel my empty existence; war, conquest, annihilation of my memories and my feelings. I had myself reprogrammed so that I couldn’t remember anything of him, but it failed.”

“I can understand that. I went almost crazy when I realized Starscream was missing,” Megatron muttered.

“I knew the reprogramming failed the first day I saw him standing in the street, like a ghost standing on the ruins of my past. He remembered nothing of me, and just looked at me with his beautiful red optics. I felt a tingle in my spark, although I was not supposed to feel it.” The Slag Maker sobbed, not willing to adjust the camera. “I wanted to be with him again, but didn’t know how to love him anymore. I hired him for my army, promoted him to the rank of a high officer, but I didn’t know how to love him. I beat him, because it was the only way for me to touch him. I tortured him mentally, stimulating his jealousy and craving for attention because it made me feel like I was the centre of his universe.”

“How miserable I will become!”

“Isn’t that a pathetic way of living? Therefore, you have to escape the vicious circle. Take Starscream with you, and escape from Charr. Go and seek protection with the Autobots. And the most important thing: NEVER GO BACK TO THE PAST!” The Decepticon Leader insisted on each syllable of the last sentence. “I have a plan to break this circle for sure. You have to trust me and run away,” he finished and then gave his interlocutor a sincere smile. “I hope that finally, Megatron a.k.a. Silvergun will be happy with his Little Prince,” he concluded.

The screen went black, leaving Megatron in the deepest confusion, if not worry. Confused on account of his new feelings towards the Slag Maker, he thought he could hate him, but the Decepticon warlord seemed to be a victim of his ugly fate. An empty shell deprived of the most basic feelings and capacity to love, frustrated by desires he could never fulfil. Lost because he was asked to abandon his world. What would happen to Wiper? He didn’t want to abandon him. He was also worried as he felt that he and Starscream had to move quickly: they were not safe on Charr, and would inevitably fall into Galvatron’s grasp.

“What should I do?” he whispered.

Automatically, he pushed a button on the data pad, and the image of Megatron the Slag Maker reappeared on the screen, playing back from the beginning.

“Greeting, my dear Megatron, or should I say, Silvergun…”

The gladiator sighed heavily, his optics not leaving the image of the Decepticon Leader.

“If only I could have your assurance, Slag Maker,” he murmured and then hid his face in his hands. “If only I had you strength and will to believe in victory,” he sobbed, ready to cry. “Oh, Starscream, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what to do anymore!”

Go to: Chapter 10 – Chapter 12

“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!”

The wound on his back hurt, and energon flowed down his shoulder blade and even his waist. The pain was however nothing in comparison to the worry that seized his spark. Deep within his core, he knew that Starscream was in extreme danger. He could almost feel the fear that agitated Starscream’s spark; it was a light but frightening tingle, a dull pain as their bond was yet too new to allow them to fully share their sensations at a distance.

“Hurry!” he barked, pushing Cyclonus roughly so that he walked quicker.

The mech complied without a word, staggering on his feet.

They walked a few meters when Megatron felt a kind of discharge in his spark as if one of his main electricity circuits had exploded in his chest. He reached his chest with his hand feeling the pain increasing. His mind suddenly raced in fear as he understood that it was Starscream’s pain that he felt through their fragile bond. That could mean only one thing—his Seeker was in agony.

“Starscream, no!” he choked with emotion as the throbbing pain persisted. “Lead me to Galvatron’s quarters at once!” he barked at Cyclonus and set the barrel of his fusion cannon against the back of the purple helmet, “Or you’re dead!”

“This way!” the mech promptly replied, speeding up his pace despite his obvious pain.

Dark corridors after dark corridors, they finally stepped in front of a broken door and the body of a deactivated mech in the dim light. Megatron knocked his hostage down with a powerful hit on the helmet and pushed the door open with worry. He spotted with horror a white wing, torn apart from his Seeker, who was lying in a pool of energon. There was a bulky mech by his side, who was working on ripping off the second wing. Starscream gave a faint moan of pain when the appendage came off with a bunch of broken wires and a splash of energon.

“Get off him!” he roared, “Take on somebody your own size!”

In one leap, he was on the mech and tackled him to the floor. They both rolled on the ground as his opponent refused to give up, and even gave him a punch on the right cheek. But Megatron was too furious to feel the pain that radiated from his faceplate. He drove his knees hard into the other’s midsection, which earned him another hit on the helmet. That was enough to unleash the beast that slept deep within him; his hands shot around the other mech’s throat and squeezed hard. The one called Galvatron started hammering his flanks, but once again, his fury was so strong that he ignored the pain. He noticed the warning messages sent by his systems only when Galvatron reached the back of his neck and dug his fingers into his open wound. Galvatron pushed him back roughly, and he fell on his back, sight dimming and audio processors ringing.

“Ho! This pathetic fool had an accomplice! You started well, but you can’t keep the distance…” Galvatron sniggered and stepped in front of him, unveiling his face from the shadows. “Let me give you a lesson before I kill you! Mwaaah!”

Red optics full of hate met their double. The two mechs stared at each other with a not-too-faint surprise as they had the feeling to look at their reflections in a mirror.

“What the slag is this nonsense!” Galvatron barked and aimed his fusion cannon at Megatron’s chest. “Impostor! I’m going to erase you from the surface of Charr!” he growled viciously.

The younger mech’s CPU raced as he understood the danger of his situation. By reflex and instinct of preservation, he caught the axe that had fallen just behind him and slashed his clone in the centre of his chest. Metal dug into metal, wires and energon lines, sending Galvatron flying backwards, where he lay still on the ground. Exhausted, Megatron also rested on the dark and cold paving, awaiting for his systems to cool down and allow him to come back to a sitting position. Once he felt in control of some of his motor functions again, he came on his four and crawled to the mech he had stricken down. Galvatron wasn’t deactivated but was out of commission; the deep gash dripped energon and a light could be seen beneath the broken pipes and wires.

“Galvatron’s spark…” Megatron murmured, and then realized it was the question of his own spark. From the explanations he had gotten from Starscream and Blitzwing, he understood he would become first the Slag Maker, and ultimately, this Galvatron.

“Starscream… Starscream!” he suddenly screamed, leaving the mech in stasis for the bleeding form of his lover.

No answer came from the Seeker, who lay face down in a large black pool of oil and energon. Megatron limped to his side, ignoring the mixture that tainted his silver paint job when he knelt down and contemplated with horror the gaping hole that used to be the base of the graceful wings. He took hold of the seeker’s body and delicately turned him over, just to see the horrible tortures Galvatron had put him through.

“Starscream… No!” he murmured, reaching the dark face with a trembling hand.

The Seeker’s optics were gone. Two dark holes where a few sparkles were dying replaced the beautiful red components. Energon drew tear-like figures down his cheek, his lips and his throat.

“I should have come quicker! I should have stopped him!” he moaned, as his hand now travelled down to the Seeker’s chest, where the glass of the canopy had been smashed and some devices torn away. Immediately, he caught sight of the light that shone from Starscream’s insides and understood that Galvatron had aimed at his life core.

“Monster!”

Megatron glared at the unconscious mech feeling the urge to murder him for what he had done. He raised his fusion cannon and aimed at the warlord’s head. He would first shoot his CPU, and then, his spark.

“Priority needs to be reset,” stated a monotone voice from behind him, startling him.

“Who are you?” Megatron pivoted on his knees, aiming his weapon blindly in the direction of the tall figure that approached him. “Stay where you are!”

“I’m not an enemy. I can help,” the newcomer added ignoring his threat as he stopped in front of him. He reached the cannon with his hand and pushed it aside slowly. “Help you save Starscream…”

Cyclonus’s distress call came from the entrance to Galvatron’s quarters, which highly intrigued Scourge. He had last seen the Galvatron’s lieutenant in a meeting, two cycles before, until the warlord had dismissed them stating he wanted to be alone. The Sweep understood that Cyclonus hadn’t come there by himself when he discovered him lying in front of the smashed door together with a deactivated Sweep.

“What happened?” Scourge enquired as he shook Cyclonus a little to wake him up.

Cyclonus’s optics flickered weakly to life, as he raised a shaking hand, pointing at the quarters.

“Galvatron… Check on Lord Galvatron.”

Scourge propped him against the wall and left him to regain consciousness. He entered the quarters and immediately scanned the trace of energon that tainted the paving. Galvatron was lying very close to the black pool, but the liquid didn’t come from the gash in his chest.

“My lord, are you okay?” the Sweep asked, kneeling by his side.

Galvatron’s optics glowed a deep crimson red, and the expression of the mech turned to complete fury. Half-conscious, the crazy Decepticon was already seized by rage. Scourge prudently jerked back, but was a few astroseconds too late to avoid Galvatron’s fist. He fell on his back, nose bleeding. By his side, the Tyrant came back to a sitting position and raised his arms to the ceiling.

“Give the alert, you worthless piece of slag. I want Starscream and the impostor caught and submitted to my punishment!”

Once again, Megatron had to stop to readjust Starscream’s position in his arms. The Seeker’s body was slick with energon and totally limp, as Starscream was constantly switching between consciousness and unconsciousness.

“Hold on, Little Prince, everything’s gonna be alright.”

“Silence!” the mech called Soundwave hissed, “Somebody’s coming this way!” he added, beckoning Megatron to hide behind a door. He typed a code on the door panel and pushed the gladiator and his burden inside a dark room. “Wait a second!” he warned, standing in the doorway, holding the two wings of Starscream.

He suddenly withdrew inside and closed the door, leaving only a small gap. Megatron looked over the shoulders of the blue mech and saw five Transformers running past their hideout without a look to them. They were middle-height, darkly coloured and wore cannons.

“Who are they?” he murmured to Soundwave, “They look like gladiators.”

“The Combaticons—Starscream’s creations. I guess the alert has been given. They’re after you.”

“Starscream’s creations?!” Megatron exclaimed in shock as he lowered his gaze to his unconscious lover. He then looked back at Soundwave with a puzzled expression, “He’s never told me he already had sparklings!” he whined.

O

At first, Soundwave responded to this question with a blank stare. Such a remark wasn’t surprising after all; the values, standards, references and even knowledge of this Megatron were different from those of the Transformers of this era.

“They are not his sparklings. Starscream had never had sparklings as far as I know. I’ll explain later,” he answered sternly. “The priority is to leave this citadel as soon as possible without being caught.”

Blitzwing’s systems rebooted slowly, bringing him back to the world with a splitting buzzing in the head. He tried to move but realized that he was bound with a net of wires. Then he remembered.

“Megatron… He knocked me out and chained me while I was unconscious!”

The triple changer started pulling on his improvised chains; to his relief, they were not very resisting and started snapping. Blitzwing was, however, in a hurry and finally switched back to his tank mode, shredding the last strands in the process.

“Alright, let’s get out of here!” he declared to himself as he came back to his robot mode and ran to the command board.

Through the front glass, he saw that the windows of Galvatron’s castle were lighting up one by one. Something was happening there, something that Blitzwing didn’t want to be involved into at all.

“Sorry for you, Megatron. Among Decepticons, it’s every bot for himself. It’s what you have taught me!”

Without hesitation, he started the shuttle at full speed and took off in a roar of engines, leaving the young Megatron to his fate.

Soundwave guided them through endless secret tunnels lighting the path with a device that was equipped on his shoulder. They finally emerged in a narrow street, far from Galvatron’s citadel. The massive building was blazing with neon lights from its walls, which illuminated the surrounding shacks and hangars. They could hear the hubbub of the encampment, sign that the alert was spreading.

“This way!” Soundwave pointed at a grey blockhouse, “These are my quarters. We’ll be safe for a while,” he assured.

Megatron hesitated, still having some doubts about the real intentions of the mech. Starscream moaned slightly against his chest, clutching his shoulder as pain tore through him. He had no choice but to give Soundwave some trust; Starscream’s life was at stake. Besides, his CPU could offer no other plan right now.

“Okay.”

O

“Come in.”

The heavy doors closed after Megatron. The young gladiator stepped forward and looked with bewilderment at the many screens that decorated the four coarse-metal walls. He suddenly felt a tug on his right foot, as if he had walked on a shard.

“Hey, watch out!”

The voice came from his foot. Megatron leaned forward, getting a firmer grip on Starscream, and discovered a small drone-like robot that was shaking his head with a resentful look. The tiny purple thing was the smallest creature he had ever seen.

“What is that?” he exclaimed, stepping back until he felt the coldness of the door tickling his bleeding wound.

“I’m Rumble, one of Soundwave’s Cassettes,” the small creature replied, beckoning one of his siblings to approach. “Frenzy, look! He really looks like Megatron, but he’s younger.” He then glared at Starscream and laughed. “Ah! Ah! The little brat is in spare parts!”

“Eh, Eh… Well noted!” the red and black Cassette replied.

Megatron glared at the two small things that hid behind Soundwave’s feet emitting little squeals. He automatically disliked them as they seemed to enjoy Starscream’s dire strait.

“Rumble! Frenzy! Do as ordered!” Soundwave growled in irritation.

“Yes, boss!”

The two small creatures ran to their respective screens, each of them displaying a different view of Galvatron’s castle and its surroundings. Megatron suddenly had a feeling that all of this had been prepared for a very long time.

“What is going on here?” he asked groping for the switch to unlock the door.

Soundwave walked without a word to the far corner of his quarters and moved a rack full of electronic devices with effort. He then removed a thick grayish film of the same color as the ground unveiling a trap door, which he opened.

“Follow me. You will be safe there.”

O

“What are you going to do?” Megatron caught Soundwave’s hands before the blue mech plugged a long tube into the stumps in Starscream’s back. “What is that?”

“I need to revitalize the circuits that were linked to the sensors of his wings. If I don’t do that, he will have no chance to be given new wings, even less to use them and fly again.” Soundwave waved Megatron’s hands away, “I’ve already told you: I’m not your enemy. I am here to help you!” he added.

“I still don’t understand why you want to help me,” Megatron retorted. “You have to explain at last! Why is this hideout equipped with medical machines, ready to welcome Starscream and me?” He glared angrily at his interlocutor; “And why do I have the feeling I already know you?” he hissed.

“I’ll explain everything once Starscream is patched up. You don’t want to let him die without medical care, do you?”

Megatron lowered his gaze on the Seeker. Starscream’s lips were twisted in a grimace of pain, and the black holes of his torn optics added despair to his already downcast expression.

“No… No, I don’t want him to die!”

“Then let me work on him and hold him tight. It’s going to sting a lot. He might thrash when I connect the cables on his back. You have to prevent him from moving and aggravating his wounds.” Soundwave recited his instructions in a stern and monotonous voice. “Your cooperation is necessary, even if you don’t trust me yet,” he finished.

Such a weak answer didn’t convince Megatron but he knew his options were reduced to following this strange mech. He didn’t like Transformers who hid their faces behind a facemask, showing nothing of their thoughts or feelings, and moreover, hiding their identity. Who was Soundwave? A mech he had known in the distant past? An ally or an enemy?

On the other hand, if Soundwave hadn’t been here to help him escape, he would have been killed by Galvatron’s troops.

“No! No! Leave me alone! Let me die!”

Megatron braced himself when the Starscream’s shrieks reached his audios. Awoken by the pain caused by repairs on his back, Starscream was wriggling stronger and stronger on the repair berth.

“Shh! Little Prince! I’m here; I’m protecting you! Let Soundwave repair your back,” he murmured in a reassuring tone.

He grabbed the Seeker’s wrists, but Starscream pushed him back with the strength born from desperation and delirium.

“No! Galvatron! Please, no more torture! Kill me! Kill me! I don’t want to suffer any more!” Starscream moaned.

At a loss what to say or do, Megatron climbed onto the berth, seized Starscream by the waist and propped him against his flank.

“What are you—?”

Soundwave stepped back, surprised by Megatron’s move. The gladiator ignored him, his attention focused on his Seeker, who was now completely petrified by fear. He wrapped his arms around the battered form and kissed lightly Starscream’s forehead, while caressing gently his waist.

“It’s me, Starscream. It’s Silvergun, Love.”

O

Through the darkness, he could feel the touch of fingers on his ruined plating. His overtaxed CPU was submerged in confusion; although it was soothing, the owner of the energy-field that wrapped him reminded him of… Galvatron.

“It’s… another trick… to torture me! Haven’t you had enough?!” he sobbed.

The fingers kept caressing his waist, so lightly that his damaged circuits didn’t complain in pain. Metal lips touched his lip component, softly and gently, adding to the confusion. He knew this kiss.

“It’s me… Silvergun.”

The name awakened another pain in his spark, more powerful than the physical pain that overwhelmed his body. Energon rose to his absent optics; optical circuits burned at the contact, drawing a howl of pain from his overtaxed vocal processor.

“Shh, calm down, Little Prince.” The voice was caressing, like the fingers that were now brushing his cheeks.

“You… You can’t be Silvergun. I abandoned him… in the past!” Starscream weakly retorted.

Tender kisses replaced the gentle brushes, which travelled down his throat.

“I followed you through the time tunnel.”

Despite the darkness he was buried in, Starscream suddenly felt a ray of hope warming his spark.

“It’s impossible… How?” he breathed.

“I’m able to move heaven and earth, fight the time and the whole Universe, when it is about keeping you by my side, Love.”

The Seeker felt his spark quivering with emotion. With strength he didn’t know was left in his body, he groped for the face of the mech, and gave out a cry when his palm touched the harsh but young features of his gladiator.

“You… came for me? You saved me!” Starscream exclaimed, his body shaken by electric spasms, mostly due to the strong emotions that coursed through his spark. “You’re here despite my betrayal?”

A reassuring chuckle reached his audios.

“Did you really think that my Little Prince could escape from the impulsive and hothead lover that I am?” His lips were once again graced with Silvergun’s unique kiss. “Beware… I want you. I love you! I’ll keep you with me!”

O

Soundwave was observing them without a word, quite puzzled by the affection displayed by this young Megatron and the Starscream’s reaction. The gladiator was cradling the Seeker like a sparkling, caressing him gently, soothing his pain and silencing his apologetic pleas with loving kisses. If the Megatron of this timeline hadn’t warned him about the coming of “Megatron the Silvergun”, he would have taken this as an Autobot masquerade and killed the two lovey-dovey impostors.

But “Megatron the Slag Maker” had warned him…

“I’ve already told you; I won’t tolerate your insolence any longer, Starscream!”

“Why did you have to call me traitor and humiliate me again, Megatron!?”

Soundwave hovered his hand and, instead of pushing the heavy door to Megatron’s office, he brought his face closer to the half-open door. In the weakly lit functional office, Megatron slammed Starscream against the opposite wall and leaned against him. The scene was all too familiar to the Communications Officer, as well as the sexual tension that rose between the Decepticon Leader and his Air Commander. Like all the other Decepticons, he asked himself if, at last, Megatron would kiss Starscream when he set his face close to the dark faceplate of his beautiful second. Their gazes locked; Starscream’s lips parted as if in invitation while hesitation appeared on Megatron’s face.

“Because you’re the greatest disappointment of my life!”

A black hand shot around the Seeker’s throat. Starscream opened his mouth, not to welcome a warm kiss, but to cry pleas for mercy. Finally irritated by the vocal performance of his Air Commander, Megatron slammed him brutally against the wall and let him slide to the ground.

“Out of my sight, little worm!”

Starscream got slowly to his feet, and shot him a look in which resentment fought with hurt. Then his lips crooked in a devilish smile, and his optics blazed with anger.

“Oh, I’m your greatest disappointment? Beware that I don’t become your doom!” he purred sensually.

“Out! Before I deactivate you!”

The Seeker ran away without further ado, escaping through the door that he was the only one to use. Megatron kept staring at the wall where he had pinned the Seeker a moment ago, and finally slammed his fist into the metal making a dent. He remained in this position, face lowered, for a few astroseconds, until he noticed the presence of his third in command in the corridor.

“Come in, Soundwave.”

The Communications Officer entered with no haste, leaving Megatron enough time to come back to his seat and regain some composure. However, when he approached the large desk, he found that Megatron looked tired.

“At your command, Megatron. You wanted to talk with me?” he ventured.

“Have you seen us, Soundwave?”

“…”

Unsure of the consequences if he replied affirmatively, Soundwave decided to keep silent.

“I actually called you at this time so that you could see us.”

“…”

Now Soundwave was unsure of what to think, except that Megatron wanted to confide. It was actually better to keep silent and just listen.

“There was a time when I was in love with Starscream. And he loved me,” Megatron said dreamily. “It was a long time ago. I lost him, and it drove me crazy. So crazy that I had myself reprogrammed so that I couldn’t feel compassion or love towards anybody. So desperate that I had a great part of my memory about our love removed.” He paused, tilted his head and smiled bitterly. “Then, he came back. I don’t know how… I realized that my attraction for him wasn’t dead, but I was unable of love towards him, just desire that I couldn’t fulfil. I just hated him for what his loss had led me to become.”

“My Lord—”

“No, let me finish!” Megatron ordered. He set his elbows on the glassy surface of his desk and rested his chin on his intertwined hands, staring vacantly. “The worst, is that I had once thought that I could avoid this situation, but I failed. When I think I had been warned… by myself!”

“I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Soundwave was lost, very lost. The scanning of Megatron’s mind indicated he was telling the truth. He wasn’t drunk either, although his words were a total nonsense.

“I’m a prisoner of a time circle. A very vicious one…” Megatron laconically replied. “And so is Starscream. Everything happens all over again. I don’t know how many times this loop has looped, I just know that every time that I’ve tried to break it, I failed.”

Soundwave felt like a bell was ringing in his CPU.

“A time circle? Is it linked to the time experiment we completed in the Hall of Heroes a decacycle ago?”

Megatron smirked at the remark.

“Good. You’re starting to understand,” he chuckled. “Now, let me finish my explanation. Tomorrow, we’re going to attack Autobot City. I’ll kill Optimus Prime—at last! — but he will wound me to death. Starscream will take advantage of my weakness to abandon me in deep space. It sickens me to say that but… don’t stop him!”

Soundwave flinched. Had Megatron blown a circuit to ask him such a thing?

“Megatron! How can you-?”

“Silence!” The Decepticon leader’s optics flashed menacingly, imposing silence on his trusty Communications Officer. “I’ll come back, different from whom I currently am. More powerful and far crazier than now,” he added and then laughed. “Here are my orders: stay away from me, whatever happens, and take care of this.”

Soundwave was too stunned by Megatron’s request that he couldn’t find a word to say. The Decepticon leader opened one of the drawers of his desk, and produced a long metal box, which he placed in front of him.

“I want to keep this until “I return”. It won’t be me as the one who’s speaking currently to you, Soundwave. It will be me as I was at the time of Emperor Quintessa the Third, fifteen million years ago; Silvergun the gladiator. I will come through the time tunnel we created, trying to catch up with Starscream. Be ready to welcome me with a fully equipped repair bay for Starscream, who will be injured by the mech I would have become.” His hand caressed lazily the surface of the box. “On the following day of Silvergun’s appearance, open this box. There are two objects in there; one for Silvergun, the one I used to be, and another for the one I will be.”

Megatron looked up at Soundwave and couldn’t help but chuckle as he sensed the confusion in his energy field.

“Any question?”

“Are you telling me… that you’re setting yourself up through different timelines?” Soundwave asked, unsure.

The Decepticon Leader gave out a cackle of amusement.

“More or less. Last thing; never let Silvergun and Starscream come back to the past. If necessary, destroy the time tunnel. Did you copy, Soundwave?”

The Communication Officer nodded silently.

“Excellent!” From insane joy, the expression of Megatron the Slag Maker turned to a dark determination. “I have to break this curse, this vicious circle. To do this, I have to let the current time circle loop completely, and break the next one at its start,” he groaned. His optics shone with determination. “I won’t fail again. I’m the only one free to choose my destiny!” he swore.

“Soundwave… Soundwave!”

The grave voice of young Megatron drew him out of the memory of this last meeting with the Slag Maker. The gladiator was observing him from the repair berth, Starscream still cradled within his arms.

“Ye- Yes?”

“Starscream is calm now. You can proceed with the repairs.”

“Perfect.”

Soundwave resumed silently his repairs on Starscream’s back, avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of Megatron. The Seeker was remarkably calm despite the pain that certainly flared each time he welded a circuit or plugged a pipe. He clutched the shoulders or the chest of the gladiator, stroked his energon-stained face against the silver faceplate in search of comfort, or just moaned his pain. He was behaving so differently from the insufferable Starscream that he knew; he looked so vulnerable that it put Soundwave ill-at-ease.

“I’m done with his back. I need to examine his chest. Can you stand up and hold his back so that I have a clear view?”

Megatron complied reluctantly as Starscream started to move again when the hands of the gladiator left his body.

“Where are you going, Megatron? Don’t leave me!” the Seeker whined in panic.

“I’m not leaving you. Soundwave needs to examine your chest!”

“Soundwave?!” Starscream’s voice reached a high-pitch level, reflecting his fear. “No! No! Don’t let him touch me! He hates me! He wants me dead!”

Megatron’s optics flashed in anger at Soundwave. The predator stretched his arm and grabbed the Communications Officer by the throat, forcing him to lean forward. His lips outlined a cruel rictus, which left no doubt to Soundwave about the identity of the gladiator. The Slag Maker already existed in Silvergun’s programming, sleeping but ready to be unleashed.

“Explain what this farce is about!”

“It’s not a farce. Starscream was the second in command of Megatron the Slag maker, and me, the third. We often disagreed about strategy, and Starscream hated me,” Soundwave promptly exclaimed. “As for your rescue, it has been ordered by the Slag Maker himself before he disappeared and became Galvatron.”

Megatron loosened his grip a bit but didn’t let go of the blue Deepticon’s throat. His optics flashed the characteristic dark red that Soundwave had so often seen when his leader was angry.

“Do you mean… he knew I would come?”

“This had already happened in the past. Megatron… I mean, the Slag Maker, he had been in your position before; chasing Starscream to bring him back to him. You’re caught in a vicious time circle, and he knew it. He’s been trying to break it, even though he had become Galvatron.”

“Nonsense!”

“I can give you evidence of it. However, the priority here is to patch Starscream!”

Megatron let go off Soundwave’s throat. His optics flickered madly before they glowed their usual crimson. The gladiator surrendered to his reasoning… for now.

“Repair him!” he hissed as he took hold of Starscream’s wrists and forced them by his sides, allowing Soundwave to reach his ruined chest.

Despite the energon that tainted the circuits, the wound was less critical that the ones on the back. After checking that the spark casing hadn’t been cracked and that its power supply line was intact, he patched the energon supply line that leaked the vital liquid.

“Done. I won’t carry on with further repairs; Starscream must recharge before. He’s too low on energy,” Soundwave calmly stated. “You should rest as well, with him,” he added.

“And remain vulnerable to your potential betrayal?” Megatron sniggered. “No way. Besides, your answers don’t satisfy me. Explain further!”

“If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you deal with Starscream’s wounds in Galvatron’s quarters, and wouldn’t have helped you leave the citadel. Besides!—”

(Soundwave! This is a red code alert! Your presence is requested at Megatron’s throne room!)

Motormaster’s voice rang in his audio processors. Soundwave immediately switched on the loudspeaker so that Megatron could hear the orders.

“Soundwave in. What’s going on, Motormaster?”

(Starscream and an accomplice attacked Galvatron. The guy is furious. We have to find the little piece of slag and bring him to Galvatron.)

“I see, this is a hunting trip. I will be there shortly,” Soundwave replied, cutting the comlink as he stared at Megatron. “I have to go, otherwise, they’re going to suspect I’m helping you. Once again, you’re safe here.”

O

Megatron watched him leave without a word, feeling the worry taking hold of his spark. Soundwave closed the trap door behind him, and the lights dimmed gradually in the small laboratory.

“Megatron…”

The whisper came from Starscream, reminding to the gladiator that somebody urgently needed comfort. He climbed onto the berth and seized his Seeker carefully, setting his cannon-equipped arm on Starscream’s back, making sure he could maneuver it without damaging the wires that hung from the ceiling. Who knows? He might have to face a sudden attack, and had to make sure he would be able to defend his lover.

“Here, Starscream, I’m here. Now, have some recharge. I’m watching over you.”

“What are we going to do now? Galvatron will never leave us alive,” the Seeker breathed.

“Oh, yes, he will. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of yet!”

Megatron’s self-confident statement seemed to reassure Starscream, who slowly slipped into recharge. However, deep within his spark, Megatron was fighting the feeling that he was not in control of anything.

Go to: Chapter 9 – Chapter 11

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.

“So… It’s here that you found me.”

Starscream walked slowly towards the corner of the place, where a pool of dry energon darkened the soil. He knelt by its side, setting his axe on the ground, and caressed the dirty surface.

“I was lying there. Wounded. Bleeding… And you saved me,” he murmured.

Guilt resurfaced in his mind, and he choked with emotion, feeling ready to cry. He could back out and go back to Megatron. The gladiator would certainly be angry at first, but he would apologize sincerely. He would do everything it takes to be forgiven. He could… yes, he could.

However, he would not back out. Megatron would soon cease to be this understanding and sweet partner. He would become rude, megalomaniac and violent. He would soon transform into the Slag Maker.

“I can’t stay, definitely.”

Chasing his hesitations away, he started to inspect every nook and cranny around the energon mark, groping in the darkness to find a sign of the time bridge. “Must be somewhere!” he muttered. His hands started to tremble, as he detected no sign of it.

“Primus! Tell me it exists… please!”

He felt a pang of relief when his fingers seemed to be absorbed by darkness. He pulled forward and smiled as his wrist totally disappeared, although he could still feel his joints. He rose slowly to his feet, keeping his hand planted on the void. His smile widened as he realized that the entrance of the time bridge was large enough for him to walk in.

“I can go home!”

Following Starscream through the tunnel had been easy. Megatron had found first the two guards holding the entrance to the tunnel, deactivated. A cycle later, he tripped over the bodies of three Vampiricons, deactivated as well. Their chests wore the same gashes like the two guards, made by axe. The depth of the wounds, their orientation—everything showed that it had been made by a mech who didn’t know how to use such a weapon very well. It could only be Starscream.

“Wait till I find you, Little Prince, and I’ll show you who the master is!”

Starscream powered on his optics when his dermaplating reacted to the difference of temperature; a starry sky covered the high towers of Cybertron. The Seeker stepped forward, staring hungrily at the thousands of lights surrounding him, and started running as soon as he recognized the place: the Hall of Heroes, where he had been shot down.

“I’m back… I’m back!” he shouted happily, and ran to the main platform, marveling at the high statues that used to be the witnesses of his coronation… and his death.

He stopped suddenly and gaped at the giant symbol placed in the middle of the platform; a mark as red as the one that used to adorn Optimus Prime’s shoulders. The Autobot symbol.

“What the slag had happened here?” he exclaimed, feeling suddenly ill-at- ease. He nervously scanned the area that appeared less friendly than at his first impression. “How long since my coronation?” he murmured, spinning on his heels.

He heard a whistling coming from the other side of the Hall, followed by mechanical footsteps. Someone was heading in his direction. ‘Autobots?’ he wondered as he hid behind a statue.

The place was empty and plunged in darkness. Using his infrared, Megatron spotted the pool of dry energon and tightened his fist as he could remember perfectly the form of the Seeker, bathing in his vital fluids. Beside the dark stain lay an axe, which he identified easily as the model for a femme. Starscream had certainly stolen it from the ammunition dump, selecting this one for its light weight.

“Bitch! Why have you left me?” he growled before dashing forward.

The blue light of a patrol drone, outside the factory, suddenly bathed the room. Megatron froze on the spot and instinctively shut down several of his systems to be completely silent and undetectable. Breems ticked by slowly before the patrol drone walked away, leaving the inside to its darkness.

Once he was sure the threat was gone, he rebooted his motor systems and stepped forward, staring at the weapon that lay on the cold floor; alone and abandoned, like he was.

“You don’t have the right to leave me alone!” he shrieked, kicking the axe in despair.

The weapon slipped on the floor and disappeared totally in the darkness of a corner, as if it had been swallowed.

“What the slag-?”

The gladiator stared at the corner, noticing how much darker it looked in comparison to the rest of the room. It was just as if there was something absorbing the weak light of this ancient production line. Hesitating a little, he reached towards the dark spot, and gaped in surprise as his hand totally disappeared in it.

“There is something out there!” he exclaimed and then dug his limb deeper into the void, up to the elbow. “He must have gone through this kind of… tunnel!”

Megatron stared at the black area, wondering what he should do. The temptation to go through this mysterious tunnel was strong but, meanwhile, he had no idea where it led. Starscream’s era? A parallel world? Or simply… nothing?

A beam of light lightened the wall beside him, and he caught the noise of the drone’s footsteps. The patrol mechanic was back, certainly alerted by the scream he had imprudently let out.

“No choice…” he muttered through gritted teeth, and let the tunnel swallow him.

Blitzwing walked nonchalantly to the center of the Hall, whistling to himself an old Decepticon ballade. He stared at the big Autobot symbol and smiled bitterly, remembering the glorious days when it was a Decepticon symbol that occupied the place of honor in this prestigious Hall. That was before the death of Starscream and the accession of this crazy mech called Galvatron. The triple changer hissed in irritation at the recollection of this hateful and mad Transformer, still hard-pressed to believe this liability was actually Megatron, reformatted by Unicron. Galvatron had none of the qualities that used to make Megatron an incredible leader: no intelligence, no charisma and no goal, except beating up other mechs (including his own warriors). Although he had plotted countless times against the Slag Maker, Blitzwing acknowledged his qualities as a leader and mourned him, enough to betray Galvatron and switch to the side of the Autobots.

‘Slag you, Galvatron! Slag you for all you’ve done to the Decepticons!’ he cursed. His gaze left the massive symbol to stare at the one painted on his chest; “Slag you for forcing me to become an Autobot!” he groaned.

He sat at the bottom of the main staircase leading to the majestic platform. The last time the Hall had been used, it was for Starscream’s coronation; it had been closed to the public since the victory against Unicron, as nobody wanted to wander on a crime scene. Blitzwing smiled at the memory of the dead Air Commander; a young and ambitious Decepticon, who had wanted to rise so high that his fall had been deadly. There was, however, no compassion in this thoughts; it was Starscream’s fault that Galvatron had been created, and for that, Blitzwing cursed regularly the name of the late second in command.

“Starscream, you stupid robot chicken! You little bitch! You-”

His insults ended with a strangled cry when he was grabbed by the throat and punched in the face. Dizzy and surprised, he lost his balance and was sent to the floor by a kick in the stomach. He tried to struggle until a barrel set against his chest, aiming at his spark.

“Okay, you win! I give up!” he cried, holding up his hands in sign of surrender.

“I should shoot you down for insulting me, you retard!”

Panic spread through his circuits as he immediately recognized the grating voice and, looking up, the dark faceplate adorned with a scolding smirk.

“Oh, crap! Star… Starscream!”

O

Starscream felt a wave of joy washing through him as Blitzwing’s expression turned into that of a complete horror. He had not inspired such fear in his prey for too long. He briefly considered an opportunity to torture the Triple Changer a little longer to spin things out, but he had questions to ask, starting with the reason for the presence of the Autobot logo on his chest.

“Oh, Primus! I didn’t mean to awaken your ghost, I swear!” the triple changer whined.

The Seeker let out a dark chuckle at this remark. Such fear was so delicious!

“I’m not a ghost, you moron!” he retorted, pressing his foot into the triple changer’s chest. “Now, answer my questions. How long have I been away?”

“Two… Two megacycles!”

‘Interesting… time must be different in the tunnel,’ he reflected briefly before focusing back to the questioning.

“Why the slag is there a giant Autobot symbol in this Hall, and—” Starscream’s foot dug deeper in the tank former’s midsection, “—on your chest?” he asked.

“We lost the planet after Unicron’s attack and Galvatron’s defeat!” Blitzwing replied, whimpering as the pressure on his ventral plating became painful. “Galvatron came back totally crazy and insane, and I decided to switch sides!”

Starscream’s optics narrowed to a slit as he tried to decrypt the laconic answer. He had no idea about the identity of Unicron, but the name of Galvatron raised an immediate interest. Only one mech could choose a name including the suffix “tron”.

“Galvatron… You mean the purple moron who shot me during my coronation?”

Blitzwing hissed in pain when his plating started to bend under the excruciating pressure.

“Galvatron… used to be Megatron before being reprogrammed and upgraded by Unicron. He shot you down, and we all believed you were dead. Then he became the leader of the Decepticons, to our greatest misfortune.”

Red optics flashed in anger. Starscream clenched his teeth and banged his fists, while his CPU bubbled in excitement and desire for revenge.

“Where can I find him?” he asked in a growl.

Blitzwing raised a shaking hand and pointed towards the northwest.

“Charr. The Decepticons retreated to Charr!”

“Charr?” Starscream couldn’t hide his surprise and gazed at a reddish point that glistered sinisterly in the starry sky. “There is nothing on Charr; it’s a dead satellite of Cybertron!” He then glared back at his prisoner, “It looks like it is more than time that I come back and definitely deactivate this incompetent Slag Maker, whatever his name is now!”

Blitzwing sighed in relief as Starscream withdrew his foot from his plating.

“You can’t beat him, Screamer. Galvatron’s strength is matched only by his madness. He’s going to kill you if he finds out you’re alive… You’d better ask for the Autobots’ protection.”

“Protection from the Autobots?” Starscream crooked an amused smile, “You’re kidding? I’m going to rip out Galvatron’s spark instead, and hook his head on my throne once I get my position of the Decepticon leader back. Besides…” He kicked Blitzwing in the face and watched him coldly fall backward, unconscious. “I had a perfect instructor and tough training lately.”

A few breems later, he transformed and took off, setting his automatic pilot system on course to Charr.

Soundwave woke up from his recharge with the strange feeling that something was about to happen. He couldn’t tell if it was going to be for better or worse, but the impression was challenging his telepathic capabilities, creating a splitting headache. He felt oddly worried and happy at the same time; a mixture of feelings he was not accustomed to.

‘My mission… It’s going to come to an end soon.’

He rose from his recharge berth and opened the shutter that plunged his quarters in obscurity. It unveiled a starry sky, in which Planet Cybertron was aglitter with thousands lights, the sign of its renewed prosperity. The feeling became stronger.

‘Does it mean… he has arrived?’

Megatron picked up the tiny axe that had preceded him in this world and gaped at the lights that surrounded him. He couldn’t say where he was, as the place seemed foreign to him. He was standing on a platform, and there were high statues of Transformers, standing side by side, in what looked like a vast hall. Beyond the colonnades, high-rise towers soared skywards in a symphony of blue, purple and yellow lights.

“Is that Cybertron in the future?” he wondered.

He stepped forward, covering with a feverish gaze this open palace, oblivious of the smile that graced his features. He found the surroundings gorgeous; it had nothing to do with the dark streets and wobbly buildings of the Cybertron that he knew. It was so much more beautiful that the Palaces occupied by the Quintessons; the walls were bright and the statues showed Transformers as noble warriors, not slaves.

“That’s… gorgeous!” he exclaimed. ‘Yes, gorgeous, like Starscream…’ he then reflected. His spark tingled in his chest, reminding him he had come here for a reason: to find his lover and bring him back. ‘I’ll find him!’ he promised to himself.

He scanned the hall more closely and detected the presence of another Transformer, at the bottom of the stairs. As far as his audios could pick up his light moans, he was slowly regaining consciousness.

“Starscream… It’s so easy to follow your path!” Megatron whispered, relieved with the Seeker’s natural imprudence.

He walked silently towards the awakening Transformer, holding firmly his axe in his hand. The other seemed to be strongly built, and was as tall as he was; however, he seemed slightly damaged, or at least, groggy enough to fail fighting back.

Megatron had all his chances to interrogate him.

O

Blitzwing reached to his face with a hand and palpated the area where Starscream had kicked him. Although the metal had resisted the violence of the shock fairly well, the circuits beneath complained violently.

“Starscream, you slagging little bitch! Wait until I find you and-!”

The triple changer gasped in surprise as he was forced to a sitting position, while the cutting edge of an axe pressed against the pipes of his throat.

“You’ll find him, and so what?”

Blitzwing gulped in surprise as his databank automatically warned him that he knew the owner of that deep and grating voice. He lowered his gaze and peeped at the dark hand gripping his shoulder, and swallowed his energon with a throaty noise. That didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t help asking the question that immediately popped up in his CPU.

“Me-Megatron?” he stuttered. “Is that you?”

“Shut up! I’m the one who is asking questions here!” came the answer, together with a hit on his helmet. “Where is Starscream?”

“He’s gone to Charr!” Blitzwing shrieked, trying to break free. It unnerved his aggressor who raised him from the ground to slam him against the wall. “I’ll do nothing to Starscream, I swear!” he added promptly.

“What is Charr?!”

A silver face set closer to him, leaving him speechless. It was Megatron, and at the same time, it was another Transformer. The features were harsh, but so much younger than the face of the commander he remembered. Besides, he looked determined rather than cruel. However, the danger was still there, cold as ice and sharp as the teeth of the Sharkticons, ready to cut off his head.

Blitzwing forced himself to calm down and searched for arguments to buy some time, in the absence of ideas to escape this threat.

“Hold on please, I’m not an enemy. Tell me what you want, and I’m gonna help!”

The other replied with a smirk that froze energon in his pipes. It was Megatron. Somehow.

“What is Charr?! Explain!”

‘… Explain!’ It was one of the favorite expressions of the Slag Maker, together with “You fool, Starscream!”. Blitzwing looked at the silver transformer, scanning his get up more closely. His design was clearly old-fashioned; he could be a Tank former, although some parts of his body betrayed a certain inability to transform. He looked like a ghost of the past, one of those heroes of Cybertron’s liberation from the yoke of the Quintessons. He seemed to be wounded as well; droplets of energon leaked from his neck and shoulder.

“Charr is a satellite of Cybertron, created from a major sabotage on a Quintesson Ship, millions of years ago. After the disastrous attack on Autobot city and the attack of Unicron, the Decepticons retreated to Charr, and…” Blitzwing paused, as the memories of the dire straits of his fellow Decepticons hit him anew. “We starved to death,” he added with emotion. “Then Galvatron came back…”

“Galvatron?”

Blitzwing gave him the same answer as he did to Starscream.

O

Megatron fought himself not to collapse: more than the pain created by the reopened wound on his neck, the revelations about his future sickened him. He would become first a murderer, consumed by burning ambition and a craving for power, and then, ultimately, this “Galvatron”; a mad Transformer, driven only by insanity and violent impulses. The exact type of a robot he hated the most. Involuntarily, his hands tightened on the purple shoulder as he realized his future fate; he would become what he hated the most. He would transform into an honourless gladiator, like Skullcrusher.

However, he had no time to pity himself; Starscream was about to attack Galvatron, and, according to the Transformer who he was interrogating, he had no chance of victory. He had to find him quickly before it was too late.

“Starscream will die at his hands!”

“How do I get to Charr?” Megatron hissed in reply. “I have to stop this nonsense!”

“You need a spaceship.”

The answer wasn’t helping. ‘A space… ship? What does it mean?’ he wondered.

“Where do I get a… spaceship?” he asked, hiding his confusion as best as he could.

“There are some at the main aero-platform. You just have to take one…”

Megatron had absolutely no idea of what was a ship and how it could operate. He grasped Blitzwing by the throat and hauled him to optic range.

“You’re going to bring me to Charr in this so-called spaceship!”

The optics of the Transformer flickered in panic.

“No! No! I can’t go to Charr! Galvatron wants me dead!” Blitzwing shrieked, squirming to free himself from the firm grip. “Please, please! Don’t force me to go there!”

Megatron raised his axe above his head and took the most aggressive expression, finishing terrorizing his hostage. He felt his shoulders and back burning under the effort but showed nothing of his pain.

“No! Stop! I’ll bring you to Charr! Please don’t kill me!”

The gladiator lowered his weapon and smirked.

“That’s good news.”

Starscream was extremely surprised when he reached the aerial space of planet Charr. He had expected to be immediately chased by Decepticons jets, but nobody came. The planet was plunged into darkness, which led Starscream to the conclusion that Charr and its inhabitants were suffering from an energy shortage. There was no light coming from the sparse buildings, with the exception of a larger one, looking as gloomy as the Palace of the Quintessons, where he had gone for the tournament.

‘I’m sure Galvatron is here, somewhere in this hideous palace. The idiot! When I think there is not even a defence system.’

Hunting down Galvatron would be a piece of cake. But he had to prepare himself before attacking the one that had usurped his position as a leader.

He landed nearby a group of buildings that seemed to be hangars. He forced the door of the first one, but found only spare parts of Transformers, certainly meant for the repair of the Decepticon soldiers. In the second one, there were ruins of a ship, abandoned to rust and oblivion. He finally found what he searched in the third one: a stock of energon cubes. An abnormally low stock of energon, he pondered in surprise.

“Primus! They are starving on this piece of dirt!” he growled and then clenched his fists. “Galvatron, you piece of slag, you’re already dead!”

Suddenly, an odd idea that, at the time of the Slag Maker, such a dramatic shortage of energy wouldn’t have happened, rose in his mind. And then, he felt he missed Megatron; the real one, Silvergun. The young and ambitious gladiator that had charmed him despite his own will.

“You’re an idiot Starscream!” he groaned before taking a mouthful of energon from a cube he had picked up. “It’s too late now.”

His spark hurt, but he forced himself to ignore the pain and remorse.

The gladiator’s gaze was roaming over the control panel of the ship, gaping at the multicoloured buttons and throttles with a puzzled expression. He had even lowered his axe in surprise. But Blitzwing did not claim victory too early; he had no doubt about the ability of the silver-white Transformer to kill him if he tried to escape. He sighed and contemplated once again that there was no obstacle to their taking off. The space of Cybertron was clear, and the control tower would certainly give him the go, as nobody expected him to fly to Charr.

“Make it move!” the gladiator groaned.

“Okay, okay. Here we go!” Blitzwing replied with resignation. “You should take a seat, you know.”

“I don’t need your advices… Make it move!”

The triple changer hurriedly obeyed and ignited the engines. The ship responded with a gentle shake, making the other startle. The gladiator promptly took the seat of the co-pilot, waving menacingly his axe toward Blitzwing.

“What is that?!” he exclaimed with some panic in his voice.

“First taking off, hum?” Blitzwing ventured.

The silver Transformer replied with a frightened look as the ship left the tarmac and hovered a few meters above the ground.

“First taking off,” he concluded and smirked lightly.

Starscream left the hangar after downing one and a half cube of energon. He was now fully charged – if not slightly overcharged – and ready to make justice for himself.

“Say your prayer, Galvatron. You don’t know it yet but you’re already dead.”

He walked to the palace, following the walls of the buildings surrounding it. He made out a hidden door on the flank of the purple citadel and slipped through the doorway. Unsurprisingly, the door was equipped with a very basic alarm device; Starscream forced it open in a nano-click and entered a weakly lit corridor.

“Now, let’s find this moron’s quarters.”

He walked across the hallway and entered a large room, leading to another hallway. The palace seemed to be a perfect labyrinth, leaving him few chances to reach his target easily. His patience growing thin, he grabbed the opportunity when he made out the silhouette of a mech, busy with the observation of a statue. He wasn’t looking in Starscream’s direction, which allowed the Seeker to approach him incognito. Supple as a cyber cat, he flowed towards the winged robot and stepped behind him. Once he was sure of his position, he grabbed the robot by the shoulder, pulled him towards himself and took advantage of his surprise to grip his throat.

“Lead me to Galvatron or I’ll kill you!” he threatened, sticking the barrel of his null ray into the grey flank. The robot twisted in his grasp but failed to free himself. “I’ll let you leave if you cooperate.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes! You have my word!” he rasped.

Starscream loosened his grasp after his prey had nodded in acceptance, but kept his null ray set against his back. The robot raised his arms in sign of surrender and started walking, wings quivering nervously.

They walked through other hallways and rooms during half a cycle before Starscream’s hostage stopped in front of a high door, decorated with a giant Decepticon emblem. A scornful smile graced the Seeker’s lips and his optics shone with a dangerous light.

“It’s here,” gulped the Transformer. He jumped when Starscream dug again the barrel into the joint of his waist. “But you said you would leave me alive!” he panicked.

“I lied,” Starscream retorted and fired his null rays.

The body of the winged bot was shaken by the energy and slammed against the door, before slipping slowly to the ground, all crevices of his armour smoking. The Seeker’s smirk grew wider when the optics of his victim blackened, a sign that he was definitely out of commission.

“And now, now… Galvatron. Your turn!” he cooed.

Blitzwing landed the ship a few kilometers away from the Decepticon camp, in a small canyon. As he had expected, the defence system of Charr was down, certainly due to the energy shortage, which explained why there was almost no light in the buildings.

“You’ve arrived,” he declared to his kidnapper, “Now, let me go.”

Megatron clenched his teeth and looked daggers at him. It was true that the Transformer had been cooperative, but he still needed him to come back to planet Cybertron.

“Not yet,” he growled.

“Hey! I’ve cooperated and brought you to Charr. Galvatron is in his castle, and Starscream has certainly reached the place as well!” Blitzwing protested, waving at the screen that showed the weakly lit building, “Keep your word and let me go! I’m in danger of termination if a Decepticon finds me here!”

“I said: no!”

“We’ll see about it!”

Blitzwing jumped at him and grabbed him by the throat, but Megatron had seen it coming; he rewarded the triple changer by a kick in the stomach, forcing him to release his grasp. Blitzwing stepped back, allowing Megatron to finish him with a strong uppercut. The tank Transformer fell to the ground, knocked-out.

“Weakling…”

He grabbed the unconscious mech by the shoulders and carried him away from the command board. He searched the cabinets at the rear of the ship and found what he needed: wires, resistant enough to be used as ties.

“Here, wait for my return. I won’t be long!” he said while binding Blitzwing to a seat.

Now that he had made sure that his pilot wouldn’t go anywhere, he could deal with Starscream and this so-called Galvatron. Megatron picked up his two axes, hanging the small one on his back, and rushed toward the Decepticon camp.

The control panel of the door followed the robot to oblivion as Starscream disabled it with a low-power null ray shot. The Seeker forced it open and penetrated the dark room as a conqueror enters a city he had forced to surrender. He spotted a heavy throne beside a large window glass looking out on the desert of Charr and planet Cybertron in the background. A tall Transformer was standing beside it, lost in the contemplation of the landscape. Starscream stopped on the threshold, scanning the frequency of the energy field that radiated from the occupant of this place. He felt growing alarm when he noticed the similarities with the Slag Maker’s energy field and Silvergun’s own frequency. Once again, his spark hurt as he remembered his young lover.

‘This is not the time to regret your choice!’ he reprimanded himself. ‘It’s too late… Silvergun is lost forever.’

“Cyclonus! What is that ruckus? I said I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

The raspy voice grated on his audios, making his legs buckle. Primus, it was almost the same voice as the Slag Maker’s and Silvergun’s. He quivered when the robot turned around, showing his face. Starscream felt courage leaving him as the red optics set on him and the thin lips narrowed to form an angry scowl. The threatening expression on these harsh features evoked the memory of his awakening in Silvergun’s quarters. He then realized that he loved the gladiator who had saved him in the distant past. He wished to see him, be able to touch him and feel the comfort of his arms around his waist, his lips covering his mouth. Primus, he would never live this happy moment again!

“You!? It’s impossible… I killed you!” Galvatron barked, raising his cannon-equipped arm in his direction.

The feeling of danger immediately swept Starscream’s uncertainty away. ‘It’s not him anymore… I’ve lost Silvergun forever!’

“I guess you haven’t tried hard enough to really kill me!” he spat back. “Let me show how to get rid of a pest… you, for instance!” he added with a cruel smirk.

The noise of the cannon, powering up for a shot, warned him that the hostilities had opened.

“I can fix that!” shrieked the purple warlord as he fired.

The Seeker avoided the blast with an acrobatic jump to the left and took advantage of Galvatron’s surprise to shoot him in the shoulder. The warlord stepped back and growled with irritation when Starscream tackled him to the ground.

Megatron had always been a quick runner, which helped him to carry out devastating charges on the arena. However, he had never been as determined as today, which let him cover a few kilometers between the ship and the Decepticon camp in a record time. After only a few breems, he reached the first buildings. Unlike Cybertron, there was no light, absolutely no activity in the dark streets, and most of the inhabitants seemed to be in recharge. In a sense, it was better that way, as he wasn’t forced to fight unnecessarily and could save his strength for Galvatron.

He quickly reached the palace of the Decepticon leader and deduced by the massive shape of the building that it would take time to find Starscream and his target. Fortunately, a mech was outside, standing right in front of the main gate. Megatron didn’t hesitate further and strode along, holding his axe firmly in his hand. The mech saw him when he was a dozen meters away from him but instead of trying to escape, fight or protect himself, he stared at him in shock.

“You? No… This is impossible!”

Megatron ignored his reaction and used the flat part of his axe to hit the mech on the stomach, sending him flying backwards. A nano-click later, he was on his victim and turned him over with a kick in the ribs. The mech spurted energon as he choked on the dust of Charr, moaning in pain. Megatron wasn’t finished with him; he sat on his back and positioned the cutting edge of his axe against the exposed wires of his throat, ready to cut.

“Where is Galvatron?” he asked with a sinister voice.

“What do you want?!” the other replied, writhing under his weight.

“Lead me to Galvatron!”

“No way!”

The gladiator’s optics reduced to a slit, and he punched the other in the helmet, grinding his face into the dust.

“Lead me to Galvatron!” he repeated.

The purple mech spat out some dust and tried to get up, to no avail.

“Go and slag yourself!”

Megatron hit him three times again, but the mech persisted in not cooperating. Feeling that he was losing his time, the gladiator finally grabbed an arm with his free hand and twisted it behind the stubborn mech’s back. He didn’t release the pressure until wires started to snap on the shoulders and the limb was ready to come off, sparkling with electricity.

“No! Please! Megatron! Stop!” the mech shrieked, twisting in pain.

Despite the pleas, Megatron didn’t free the almost torn arm but stopped twisting it. Once again, somebody already knew his identity, an evidence of his future well-known cruelty.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. “Explain!”

“I know… I know… you, Megatron. I saw you in the old records,” the one called Cyclonus breathed. “Please, stop!”

“Lead me to Galvatron!” he ordered as he stood up from his victim and raised the shaken mech with brutality. “Now, or I’ll tear you apart limb by limb!” he added, waving his axe under the bleeding nose of the mech.

O

Cyclonus struggled not to collapse to a heap as new sparkles of electricity sent a wave of pain through him. He nodded silently, aware that he was no match for the Slag Maker. Only Galvatron could be strong enough to stop him.

The only question was how Megatron could be standing in front of him. Megatron and Galvatron were supposed to be a single unique person.

Soundwave sat back in his chair, his optics not leaving the screen of the monitor, as if he was hypnotized by the images that Laserbeak was broadcasting. The shape of the silver-white Transformer occupied the major part of the scene, like a ghostly vision. The former Communications Officer trembled when the mech turned his gaze in the direction of the spy; two red optics glittered, lighting harsh but young features, so familiar to him.

“Megatron! You were telling the truth… He has come! You have come from the past!” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “That means the wheel of your destiny is moving,” he added to himself.

“The vicious circle will repeat again!” Go to: Chapter 8 – Chapter 10

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.

Megatron was bracing himself with both legs, pulling with all his might on an old generator that was so rusted it was falling to pieces. His silver paint-job was spattered with coats and oil, drawing dark figures on his body.

“Here, I’m almost done!” he growled, grimacing under the effort. The rusted generator finally gave up, repaying his efforts with a new spurt of dark oil on his forearms. Megatron didn’t pay attention to the disgusting stain and threw the object aside. “Perfect, you can install the new generator now!” he declared, satisfied.

“Awesome!”

“You’re so strong!”

“Wow! That’s incredible!”

Megatron nodded quietly to the congratulations of the enthusiastic miners. A warm smile graced his lips when he made out the form of his Seeker. He waved at him and, after he took his leave from his audience, walked to the gorgeous flyer. He was a little disconcerted when he saw Starscream’s nervousness. ‘Is he still afraid of me?’ he wondered, ‘Even after what had happened between us?’

He remembered perfectly the intense moments of their merging, and the strong sensations that had caused the most violent overload of his life. He was also sure that Starscream had totally enjoyed this merging, according to his ecstatic cries. Their bodies, systems and sparks had communicated together so completely that they had almost become a single entity at their climax. Megatron had spent long hours after Starscream had fallen into recharge thinking about the implications of this act. He had tried to reject the idea of being emotionally attached to Starscream, but had been rather unsuccessful. Starscream was not like the other Transformers he had met before; he was full of contradictions, weak and strong, sweet and bitter. Besides, he was the messenger warning him of his dark destiny. Megatron’s mood suddenly darkened, but not for too long; Starscream stood in front of him and raised his head, lips slightly parted. ‘So beautiful!’

“What are you doing?” The tone of the voice was reproachful.

The Seeker’s gaze roamed on his body. Despite the disgusted expression he took, Megatron loved his look; it was as if his blue hands were running over his plating. A faint moan escaped him, making Starscream startle.

“I am making myself useful. We are the guests of Alpha Trion. We have to repay him by giving our help.”

Starscream looked shocked.

“That’s not the way you usually speak about him!”

“That’s not the way of speaking of me, or of “Megatron the Slag Maker”?” he asked. “I’d say, it’s true to the behaviour of Silvergun before he found the slagging coin!” He cupped Starscream’s face in his hands and then forced him to look up. “Let’s stop talking about this. You forgot to wish me “good morning”, he lowered his face, lips almost brushing against the dark metal. “Love.”

O

That was going too far! Starscream tried to withdraw, but lost the trail of his thoughts when silver lips covered his lip component. It was not rough, but rather sweet and expecting. Unable to rebel against the gladiator, Starscream allowed him to circle his back and waist with his arms. His jaw stopped resisting, allowing Megatron to deepen the kiss. A few cycles passed before Starscream regained control of his thoughts and pulled out.

“That’s better…” Megatron caressed his cheek affectionately and planted a kiss on his nose, “You’re still a little shy, but at least you’re not afraid anymore.”

Starscream felt uncertainty invading him. The affection that he received planted seeds of doubt in his spark. ‘Should I try my chance with him?’

“Me- Megatron, I have something to ask you…” he stuttered.

“What is it?”

A shiver ran through his back when Megatron started caressing gently the edge of his right wing. Their chests were still in close contact, allowing Starscream to feel the pulse of the gladiator’s spark. It was vivid, but gentle and comforting; nothing comparable to the dark aura and aggressive spark pulse of Megatron the Slag Maker.

“I’d like to-”

“WHAT THE SLAG!”

Starscream startled at the cry of Megatron. The gladiator seemed to have forgotten his presence in an astrosecond; he pushed him aside and started running.

“What the slag are you doing!?” the Seeker screamed, a little upset to be neglected so abruptly. “The bastard!” He turned around in order to throw some colourful insults at him and gaped when he made out a greenish mech that had appeared near the entrance of the tunnel.

“Wiper!” he heard Megatron scream. The gladiator waved menacingly at the two guards who were targeting the medic with their weapons. “Don’t touch him! He’s a friend of mine!”

“Primus… Wiper? How did he get here?” Starscream exclaimed and then ran after Megatron.

“He’s okay. A little low on energy, but in a rather good condition. He has a few wounds and bruises, which is normal when you have to go through the tunnel,” Alpha Trion explained. He set a comforting hand on Megatron’s shoulder and smile. “You can speak with him if you want. He’s fully conscious.”

“Yes, please.” A smile graced the lips of the gladiator as his tension fell. “I’d like to see him without delay.”

“This way!” Alpha Trion pointed at a black door few meters from the place they stood up. “Our medic is performing some additional repairs, but I’m sure you can pay him a visit.”

“Thank you.”

Starscream watched him leave and waited for the door to snap shut to stand in Alpha Trion’s way.

“How did he get here? I believed the tunnel was a labyrinth and that nobody could find the way to this camp!” he stated nervously. “Did Wiper explain how he had found his way out?”

“Well… According to what he said… He was stalked by the Vampiricons and found shelter in the tunnel.” Alpha Trion pulled on his metal moustache nervously. “He told me that he had no ideas about what he could find here. He reached this place accidentally,” he added.

“Accidentally?” Starscream’s voice reached a very high pitch. He looked totally upset. “You told us that it was impossible to find the way to this base. And here comes Wiper, who found the way in no time! We don’t know what had happened to him after we left the arena; he might have been conditioned by the Quintessons!”

Alpha Trion threw him a questioning look.

“Conditioned… What do you mean?”

“I mean reprogrammed. To trap us and bring us back to the Quintessons!”

Starscream flinched when Alpha Trion set a hand on his shoulder vent.

“Don’t worry. The Quintessons are evil, but I don’t think they would go that far. Besides, your friend is weak and will have to stay for a few megacycles at the repair bay.”

The jet shrugged this unwelcome hand off and sighed.

“You’re so naive… It’s pathetic!”

O

Megatron spotted the big frame of his old friend as soon as he entered the repair bay. The medic and his squad of technicians had left, leaving Wiper attached to several medical machines, placed in circle around him. A feeble light bathed the mech, not really enhancing the curves of his body. Megatron smirked; Wiper was an ungraceful machine, and right now, he looked like a trashed mech after a heavy drinking night.

“So… You will never leave me alone, you old rusted can!” he said as he stepped close to the berth.

The optics of Wiper flickered to life and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“There must be somebody watching over you… You have an unequaled talent to get yourself into a mess, lad!”

The reply amused Megatron; it was exactly what he had expected. He knew Wiper so well; the former gladiator had been his mentor, medic and friend. One of the rare Transformers to whom he had given his trust. Without hesitation, he reached the wounded mech’s hand and squeezed it lightly.

“I’m glad that you are safe and alive. What happened after we—Starscream and me—had left for the tournament?”

“I did as you advised. I left your quarters right after you. Fortunately… The Vampiricons came and ransacked the place. I saw them…” Wiper hissed in pain as circuits sparkled in his chest. “Sorry… I saw them, and I was afraid. I didn’t come back to my quarters because I though they would look after me…”

“I’m sorry for getting you into such a mess.”

Megatron patted Wiper’s shoulder gently. He looked genuinely apologetic.

“That doesn’t matter. After all, you deserve having friends who are ready to risk their lives for you. You’re not as boring as the other gladiators; you don’t live only for fighting. You have ambitions… that go beyond the walls of the arena. And you can stand against Skullcrusher… well, almost,” Wiper chuckled lightly. “Anyway… I heard that all trace of you was lost after you had entered the old tunnels. I didn’t know where to go, so I tried to find you. I wandered a lot through those crappy galleries… I don’t know for how long. I was not even able to think when I reached this place. I-”

“Shh- you don’t need to justify yourself, Wiper. You’re here… that’s the important thing.”

The voice of the young gladiator trembled under his emotions; he knew Wiper trusted him. However, he had never thought that his medic had such a high opinion of him.

“Megatron, don’t approach him!”

The Transformer so addressed gazed at the winged robot that ran to him and grunted in protest when Starscream pushed him aside, standing between him and Wiper.

“What’s the matter, Little Prince?”

“He’s dangerous!” Starscream retorted, pointing at the wounded greenish mech.

“What?” Megatron peeped at Wiper, who looked as startled as he was. “You’re joking! He’s wounded and can’t even move!”

“Don’t let him go away from this repair bay and don’t approach him!”

Megatron didn’t understand the origin of Starscream’s violent worries and was starting to get pissed. If anyone were to judge whether Wiper was trustworthy or not, it was him and nobody else.

“Look, Little Prince. Wiper is okay,” he replied, grabbing Starscream’s waist. Pivoting on his heels, he swapped their positions, Megatron now standing between the berth and Starscream. “You should go and see Alpha Trion and ask him if he has work to give you, hum?” he added.

“But-”

Megatron silenced the Seeker with a kiss and cut his protests short with a light caress on the edge of his right wing.

“Enough… We’ll talk about this tonight. Now, go!”

Starscream stepped back and glared successively at Megatron and Wiper. He looked like a spoiled sparkling, ready to cry. He finally walked away, wings quivering nervously.

“Have I seen what I’ve seen, or am I delirious?” Wiper whispered, “You and this little bugger-?”

“You’re delirious! We just got to know each other a little better…”

Megatron looked suddenly ill-at-ease.

“How much better?”

“Not your business!” Megatron scratched the ground with his left foot and then smiled nervously, “You should rest now, you old imbecile, instead of babbling. I’ll come and see you in two cycles.”

O

Wiper watched Megatron leaving the repair bay, and once he was sure he wouldn’t be interrupted, he contacted his new masters through his communication link.

(I’ve found Silvergun and the Little Prince. Should I bring them to you tonight?)

(No, I don’t want the winged Transformer to be hurt.) The voice of Beta 15 was horribly screechy, but it didn’t matter. He was his master. (Try to be imaginative. You have to find a way to have him follow you. Use your imagination…)

(At your command, my Master.)

Beta 15 cut the comlink, leaving him in complete silence. It was perfect for Wiper; he needed calm and quiet to come up with a strategy.

Starscream spent his working time moaning about Megatron being naive and imprudent. The task he had decided to handle didn’t do anything to brighten his mood. He was checking one by one the surveillance cameras at the entry gates of the base; they were very primitive and not in a very good state. It pissed him off a little more.

It was only when he felt the need to get some energon and recharge that he decided to return to his quarters. More precisely, the quarters he shared with Megatron…

When he entered the place, Megatron was sitting on the large berth, busy wiping away the last traces of oil and dirt from his immaculate paint job. He had just gotten out the wax shower, and some droplets of wax shampoo still shone on his chest. Starscream stood silently beside him, allowing himself a few minutes to observe the one who pretended to be his bondmate. He had to grant him that: he was handsome. Strongly built and well-designed.

But that didn’t change anything about the “Wiper incident”.

“You still think Wiper is trustworthy, don’t you?” he asked in a reproachful tone.

Megatron chuckled.

“It’s late. I was starting to wonder about your whereabouts…”

“Don’t try to elude the question!”

The gladiator looked up and grinned. “Yes, I believe Wiper is our ally,” he replied.

“Then you’re an idiot!”

Starscream cried as Megatron caught his wrist and pulled him down on to the berth. By reflex, he hid his face with his free arm, dreading the reaction of his partner. The gladiator pinned his body with his own weight, imprisoning his hips between his thighs; Starscream concluded he would be beaten and then raped.

Nothing came, except a light stroke on his right wing.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Starscream. I want to explain to you why I believe Wiper.”

The stroking on his wings soothed the tension within his body and mind very quickly. Starscream withdrew his arm and stared at Megatron. The gladiator smiled at him and leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead.

“Good. At least, you agree to listen,” Megatron whispered. “Wiper is my only friend. I met him on the first day I was thrown into a gladiatorial tournament, and I would have died without his help.” He leaned again and trailed his lips along Starscream’s jaw line, enticing a gasp. “I was inexperienced and lost. It took only a few breems for my opponent to wound me seriously. I rebooted at Wiper’s repair bay, with the old can tending to my wounds.”

“Continue…” Starscream moaned as Megatron was now sucking at the cables of his throat between his explanations.

“He convinced me that I had a high potential, and that I needed a coach and a medic…” Megatron pursued as he reached Starscream’s cockpit, caressing the metal gently. “He became both of them. He even helped me a few times when I rebelled against the organization of the tournaments or Skullcrusher’s leadership. He risked a lot, but wasn’t afraid to fight for me.”

“Hum… !”

Starscream moaned loudly when Megatron removed the canopy, exposing his inner circuits.

“He’s a friend, Starscream!” Megatron cupped the Seeker’s face within his hands, forcing him to stare at him with foggy optics. “A friend who is dear to me, even if I don’t show it. So, yes… I trust him!”

Starscream didn’t protest about that statement; he was unable to think. Instead, he crushed his lips against Megatron’s, calling for more caresses and attentions. The young gladiator didn’t need any persuasion to respond. Very quickly, he made his partner lose his mind and forget his very name, transforming him into a pool of desire and pleasure. Once again, Starscream abandoned his body to skillful hands and glossa, and surrendered his life core to the wild spark. Overload claimed him in an explosion of colours and a concert of cries.

His cries of pleasure.

When he woke up on the following day, Megatron was already gone. Like the morning before, he had covered Starscream with an electro-thermal blanket. He had also left a data-pad close to one of his hands, which Starscream grabbed while cursing himself for being so lazy.

The hologram of Megatron’s face appeared. The gladiator was smiling when he had recorded the message.

“Hello love! Today, I’m having a look at the mines from which the cybertronite is extracted. I plan to visit Wiper a few cycles before our recharge time. I know you are still worrying about this; I suggest you join me at the repair bay. I’ll contact you while I’m on my way.”

Starscream sighed and dropped the data pad on to the berth. He stared at the ceiling a long time, trying to remember the occasion he had learned about Megatron’s concept of friendship.

“Optimus Prime paid your ransom in energon cubes, and I’m fed up with seeing your idiotic face. You’re free!”

Ironhide stared at Megatron in shock. So did Starscream before wailing in outrage.

“What?! You’re sending this Autoscum back to Optimus Prime? That’s utterly stupid! Let’s kill him instead!”

Megatron waited for Soundwave to take the Autobot away to reward him with a punch on the right side of his faceplate, followed by another in his stomach. Starscream staggered on his feet and then collapsed to a heap.

“I- I was just asking, my Leader. Don’t take offence at it!” he pleaded.

“You were questioning my leadership, as usual!” Megatron growled, looming dangerously over him.

“No! No! I swear-”

A silver foot caught him in the face, silencing his pleas.

Starscream startled in his berth, remembering briefly the pain that had ensued upon his awakening. Rethinking the unpleasant side of this memory, he decided not to replay it, and allowed himself some additional breems of recharge.

That day, his tasks were not very gratifying from his point of view. Once again he worked on the surveillance camera network, trying to improve its efficiency but had to give up due to the archaic nature of the hardware. He then switched to the defence systems, which didn’t get his hopes up. The weapons were old-fashioned, and even worse, in a state of decay. Bugged and rusted. Looking up at the dome-like ceiling, he felt the old sensation of claustrophobia seizing him. Primus, he needed to fly so badly! Feel the caress of the wind on his frame. Shake his body with strong accelerations and decelerations. Megatron’s attentions were sweet and thrilling, but he needed to fly!

(Starscream… Love? I’m going to the repair bay. Can you join me?)

‘Megatron!‘ The Seeker stopped his activities, not willing to answer. Being called “Love” disturbed him deeply.

(Little Prince! I know you’re listening.)

“Yes, I’m listening. I might be a little late. Wait for me and don’t go there before I’m here!” he finally replied.

(Excellent! I’m glad to see that you worry about me. Perhaps it means that you care for me?)

“Stop dreaming!”

(We’ll discuss this in private tonight!)

O

Starscream actually took his time to finish his work. The idea of finding his way back to the future was tempting. The prospect of being loved by his gladiator was sweet. These two options were torturing his mind and tearing his spark apart. Boredom put the end to it when one of the automatic weapons broke in two in his hands. He decided to do as he promised and walked to the repair bay.

When he arrived, the place was all dark, as if the electricity had been cut, and silent as a grave.

“Megatron? Are you here?”

The Seeker engaged his infrared and walked in the direction of Wiper’s berth. His feet suddenly felt contact with something hard; lowering his head, he made out the shape of a mech. He bent down and saw a hole in the helmet, clearly created by a blunt object.

The medic had been attacked and deactivated.

“I knew it!”

He jumped to his feet, ready to run out of the place but stopped when the light came back. Starscream caught immediately the sight of Wiper and Megatron. The younger gladiator was standing in front of Wiper, but it was easy to understand he was his prisoner. He was grimacing in pain, caused by the blade dug at the base of his neck.

“What have you done?” Starscream roared as he pointed his null rays, “What do you want? Let him go!”

“Calm down, Little Prince. I don’t want anybody to be injured here! I just want you to follow me to my masters, the Quintessons…”

“The Quintessons… are not… your masters!” Megatron retorted with effort. “Wiper… Why?”

A hiss of pain escaped him as Wiper pressed on the piece of metal in his neck. The greenish mech smiled at Starscream, ignoring the expression of revolt painted on his face.

“Stop this!”

“If you obey my orders, he will survive. If you try to resist, then I’ll dig this blade deeper and deeper… and it will end piercing his spark casing!” Wiper whispered. “What do you choose? His life or his death?”

“Wiper… Why are you… doing this?”

Starscream couldn’t help chuckling, somehow amused by Megatron’s naive question.

“Why is he doing this? It’s exactly what I’ve told you; he had been reprogrammed by the Quintessons to capture us. He’s not your friend anymore!” Starscream barked, still pointing his gun in Wiper’s direction. “And I’ve told you to wait for me!”

Megatron screamed in pain when the blade dug deeper into his circuits.

“Don’t forget. Be uncooperative, and he will pay!” warned Wiper.

Starscream glared at him. The old expression of the predator ready for the kill was back on his face.

“Don’t touch him!”

“It’s me who is giving orders here, Little Prince!” Wiper retorted very calmly. “Follow me and I will spare him.”

Starscream flew off the handle.

“Oh, so you’re giving orders?”

“As I said-”

“If you think you can deceive a Decepticon, then… you’re pathetic!”

The null ray shot grazed Megatron’s chin and ended up in one of Wiper’s optics, propelling him a few meters backwards. The mech slammed against the wall, pushing a horrible cry of agony as the right side of his face exploded. He slid slowly to the floor, his face smoking and streaming with energon from the gaping hole.

Starscream caught Megatron as he collapsed to a heap, and pulled out the blade as delicately as possible. Megatron screamed in pain and buried his face in Starscream’s neck to muffle his cries. The Seeker held him tight, finally overwhelmed by the feeling of protection and possession.

“Here, it’s finished.”

Megatron was offline when Starscream came back to their quarters, at the hour when all the other mechs were deep in recharge. It had taken at least two cycles to explain the reason of Wiper’s treason to Alpha Trion, who stubbornly refused to accept that a living being could reprogram a machine to betray another one.

‘Slag you, stupid sentimentalist Autobot!’

Silently, he walked to the berth and sat on the edge, observing the faceplate of the young gladiator. He looked sad and bitter. Starscream now knew why.

He had thought a lot about Wiper’s betrayal and its consequences.

O

When he awoke, he was surprised to find himself sitting at his command desk, with his terrible Commander as his only company. Megatron looked at him with a smug smile, which meant that no good was coming from this situation. Starscream reached his face and caressed the surface; there was no trace of the kick, last painful memory he had before the blackout. Without a doubt, Megatron had ordered the Constructicons to repair him before bringing him to the command room.

“Why am I here?” he asked in worry.

“To learn a lesson in life.” Megatron pointed at the screen, “Shut up and watch!” he ordered.

Starscream complied, afraid to be beaten up again. The scene was the reunion of Ironhide with the other Autobots. Optimus Prime was walking at the head of his troops, and didn’t hide his happiness when he stood in front of his fourth in command. He fell to his knees and hugged him, oblivious of the dangerous red light that stained the blue optics of Ironhide. He didn’t see the hand of his old friend switching to a knife, and then plunging into his neck.

Optimus Prime screamed and fell backwards, while the other Autobots cried in horror at the betrayal.

“That’s brilliant!” Starscream exclaimed. This time, he was sincere and looked at his commander in awe. “How did you get the idea?” he asked.

As a matter of explanation, Megatron left his throne and walked in his direction. Starscream felt his circuits tremble when he stood in front of him, eclipsing the light coming from the ceiling.

“I was once betrayed by a good friend of mine.” Megatron’s hand shot around his neck, pulling him out of his seat. “He was somebody that I really trusted and admired. But one day he was reprogrammed and betrayed me. I started having doubts, and eventually, the most important person in my life abandoned me.” The pressure on his neck tightened, evidence of Megatron’s growing anger. “Then I realized that the so-called friends could hurt worse than enemies. I then chose to have no more friends, only enemies. At least, I know my enemies will never change their minds about me. They hate me. And even better than petty feelings such as friendship or even love, hate never grows weaker, only stronger!”

Megatron pushed him roughly backwards, sending Starscream into an uncomfortable seating position on the command board. The Seeker tried to regain his composure and swung his legs over the edge of the board in the hope to have Megatron step back. His action didn’t get the result he expected; Megatron didn’t move and Starscream’s legs were stuck against his thighs. He quivered when the Decepticon leader leaned over him, setting his hands beside his hips.

Primus! This scene had a terrible taste of déjà vu…

“Although I appreciate the loyalty of my enemies, I don’t like it when they try my patience too much.” Megatron made a predatory smile and set his forehead against Starscream’s, obviously loving the panic he evoked in his prey. “You are my closest enemy, Seeker. But you try my patience a lot. Next time you challenge me so grossly in public, I won’t bring you to the repair bay. You will have to crawl to it!” he threatened.

O

‘Primus. You kept your promise so often! I understand now how you became such a monster!’

Starscream startled when a finger traced the edge of his left wing. When he turned around, he saw that Megatron was now sitting on the berth.

“No… You shouldn’t-”

Megatron didn’t care about his protests and eagerly caught his lips in an urgent kiss. Abandoning briefly the idea to protest, Starscream let himself to be guided to the berth, waiting for the caresses to chase away his turmoil. However, the dramatic event of the day had kindled the gladiator’s fire. He held his Seeker close, arranging the electro-thermal blanket around them.

“How do you feel?” Starscream asked. He didn’t want to settle uncomfortably in this berth. Not with the idea he had in mind.

“The medic patched me up. He said that the pain would ebb in a few cycles. He forbade me to get out of this berth tomorrow.”

Megatron slid an arm around his waist and caressed his back lightly. Starscream got the message; he didn’t want to be alone the following day. His spark broke in two.

“Good.”

“What about Wiper? Is he going to be… fine?”

The Seeker hid his face in Megatron’s chest as he reached the top of shame. He had never felt remorse when betraying Megatron; however, this time, the mere idea disgusted him.

“He’s alive. I shot his CPU, not his spark. However, Alpha Trion told me it would take time to repair him. Part of his memory bank had been destroyed, erasing a great part of his memories. A complete upgrade will be necessary to ensure his viability as a Transformer able to move and think, and not as a… mindless statue.”

“I see.”

Megatron didn’t add a word, leaving Starscream to his torments. The Seeker let the gladiator caress him until the gentle strokes ceased, a sign that Megatron had fallen into recharge. Starscream fought against his plan for a good cycle before withdrawing from his embrace. He sat by his side, observing the face of the Transformer.

“I’m sorry for what I’m going to do,” he whispered. “I know your change into the Slag Maker is unavoidable. It’s written… I must grab this opportunity to return to my era!”

He reached Megatron’s face and pushed a discreet panel on his forehead, unveiling a small port. He did the same to his own forehead and connected them to each other. Megatron’s anti-hacking system wasn’t very elaborated, allowing him to browse through his memory files. He found very quickly what he wanted; the memory of Megatron when he had found him, with the coordinates of the factory.

Once it was finished, he disconnected the link and set their panels back. Megatron didn’t awake during the process, looking surprisingly serene and even… fragile.

“I have to tell you one thing in case I don’t return to you,” Starscream murmured as he leaned down and kissed the sleepy mech on the lips; “I was glad to meet you at the time you were a decent mech. I think…” He stopped, ready to cry. “No… I’m sure I could have fallen in love with you if our destinies were different. But you are destined to become the Slag Maker, and me, your challenger and the future leader of the Decepticons. We can’t change this,” he concluded in a broken voice.

Starscream gave him the last kiss and then reluctantly left the quarters. Go to: Chapter 7 – Chapter 9

“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.

Megatron was quite upset by the Seeker’s behaviour. Starscream was deliberately ignoring, if not rejecting his advances. Why was he acting this way? Hadn’t he kissed him? And by the same, given him the sign to go further? Megatron was not exactly the type of Transformer who hit on other Transformers or sparked things off, but once the light of passion was turned on, he caught fire. Right now, he was burning, both literally and figuratively. His power-core temperature rose dramatically each time he touched the smaller mech. And he was ready to burst out in rage because he didn’t understand why Starscream turned him down. After all, the Little Prince had allured him, not the contrary! Each time he replayed the data of this kiss, his processor threatened to fry and his spark chamber to explode.

Sure, he had more important things to think about. He was still a fugitive, stalked by the Quintessons and their squadrons of Vampiricons, and who had ended up in the lair of insurgents against the same aliens. He had always believed that they were a legend, but according to what he had seen during the last few cycles, they were real, although not very well organized. That would be enough to guarantee his safety and the safety of the Little Prince. He only regretted that Wiper wasn’t here. Had the medic escaped the Vampiricons or was he their prisoner?

Speaking of his ungrateful new companion, he was heading the wrong way, too busy scanning the surroundings of this underground base. Megatron set a gentle hand on his waist to push him in the right direction. Starscream trembled and quickly escaped his grasp, walking at a quicker pace.

‘Slag you, Little Prince! When I think about all I’ve done to preserve you and this is how you reward me. You seduce me and afterwards you ignore me! I haven’t said my last word!’

Fuming, he accelerated to match the pace of the flyer.

O

Starscream couldn’t believe what his optical sensors reported to him. The place looked like a huge termitarium, dug in the depths of planet Cybertron. The walls were fitted with alveoli of various sizes, looking like rudimentary quarters. In the middle of this vast mound, equipments for the extraction of minerals were the focus of the attention and work of hundreds of Transformers. Judging by the bulky shape of the mechs, covered with dust and soot, they were miners. Or maybe just like them—gladiators on the run.

“No. It’s over there!” warned Megatron.

Once again, the young gladiator touched him in order to guide him in the right direction. Once again, Starscream trembled; although his mind refused to acknowledge his attraction towards Megatron, his treacherous body was responsive to the touch. He jumped aside and threw Megatron a panicky look.

“Stop being so nervous!”

Megatron was upset to no end.

“Stop touching me!” retorted Starscream.

The gladiator stepped forward, looking menacing.

“You seemed pretty much fine with touching me when I was delirious. Don’t tell me you don’t like when I return the favour.”

‘Here we are!’ Starscream knew that this argument would come up soon. He had to be honest this time if he wanted to clear the air and set the things right.

“Listen. I kissed you, right. However, you should forget it!” he stated with no hesitation. Megatron’s expression fell. “I was confused, exhausted… and I had to shut you up! That’s all. I have no feelings for you! And certainly no desire!”

The gladiator clenched his fist with a terrible expression, and Starscream believed he would be backhanded.

“I don’t believe you!” Megatron stated through clenched teeth.

“You’d better change your mind. It will be easier to accept it.”

Megatron glared at him and walked past him without adding a word.

They walked silently to the far corner of this dark place. As usual, the mechs threw Starscream strange looks which he couldn’t interpret. Hostility or curiosity? He couldn’t say. He regretted his harsh words towards Megatron when, panicked by a hostile glare, he reduced the distance with him. The gladiator threw him a look in which anger was fighting with hurt. For once in his life, Starscream felt guilty.

The building in front of which they stopped was like everything else in this place: dirty and crumbling. The Seeker outlined a disgusted grimace, wondering who could live in such a wobbly place.

“Who are we visiting?” he asked in the hope to re-establish communication with his companion.

Megatron didn’t bother to answer or glare at him. He pushed the door and came in, ignoring the Seeker. Starscream sighed and considered briefly the possibility of making apologies.

He followed the young gladiator into what looked like personal quarters. The walls were decorated with screens and maps of Cybertron. The tables were covered with data pads and empty energon cubes; it was obvious from the dirtiness of these quarters that the occupants not only lived, but also worked here. Looking twice at the main table occupying the middle of the quarters, he noticed a mech who was sitting there, reading a data pad closely.

Starscream recognized him at once and raised his null-rays towards him.

O

“You’re dead Alpha Trion!”

Megatron startled at the cry and watched with bewilderment the Little Prince targeting the red and purple mech with his rifles. Not only Starscream was a jerk, but he was also suicidal? Impulsive and not very prudent, but he knew it already. Starscream had certainly not spotted the two guards who were waiting at the far corners, aiming their own weapons at the flyer.

“This is a misunderstanding!” he exclaimed, seizing the Seeker by his wrist and waist. Starscream gave out a startled “Aargh!” and tried to kick him when Megatron twisted his arms behind his back, holding him tight against himself. “He is confused, Alpha Trion. He means no harm to you!”

Starscream kept twisting and kicking within his grasp, until his erratic movements were replaced by a cry of frustration that pierced his audio processors.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me! Aaaaaaaaargh!”

Megatron would have covered his audios like a grimacing Alpha Trion did, if he didn’t have his hands busy with the thrashing Seeker.

“Calm down! Nobody’s going to hurt you here!” he stated, trying to be comforting. However, Starscream kept wriggling like the very devil, the level of his voice becoming rapidly unbearable. He suddenly understood from the frequency of Starscream’s energy field what the cause of this trouble was, and let go of him. Instead of running away or even carrying on with his threats against Alpha Trion, the Seeker collapsed to a heap on the floor, arms wrapped around himself.

Megatron looked down and sighed at the shameful display. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he apologized to Alpha Trion.

A lie; he knew perfectly well why Starscream behaved so insanely, and was secretly very pleased with it.

O

Starscream offlined for a few minutes to prevent his logic chip from frying under all the sensations and emotions that coursed through him. It had started with the vision of Alpha Trion standing in front of him, and had dramatically increased with Megatron’s arms wrapped around him. His sensors had responded to the touch in such a strong way that he had feared a sensory overload. In the meantime, his logic chip couldn’t process the comparison between the past and the present anymore.

When he awoke, he realized with shame that he was lying on the table, with all the mechs gathered around him. Megatron and Alpha Trion were side by side, surrounded by other mechs that looked as dirty as the miners outside. The sight of the two future enemies challenged once again the resistance of his logic chip.

“Starscream, do you feel okay?” Megatron asked coldly.

Starscream nodded to the affirmative and bit his lips. ‘Leave me alone, please! Megatron!’

“You scared us to death, my friend. Maybe one of our medics can auscultate you and check if you need additional repairs.”

It was the voice of Alpha Trion. Starscream raised his head and looked at the human-like features, noticing they were far younger than he remembered. His tension fell a little when he reflected that Alpha Trion didn’t know him. Not yet.

“I- I was confused. I believed you were another person.” He came back to a sitting position and, after a great effort, pronounced the few words he hated to say; “I’m sorry.”

“No problem. I’m just wondering how you could know my name.”

“Megatron told me—” The gladiator frowned at him, reviving his tension. “That’s why.” Starscream couldn’t help lowering his gaze, overcome again by confusion that made his legs buckle and his fuel pump hammer in his chest.

“Of course.” Alpha Trion outlined a warm smile, which completely destabilized Starscream. He could remember the last time he had broken into the old mech’s lab. The Autobot had shot him right in the head, barely missing his CPU. “I forgot that you two are bonded… ”

“What?” Starscream couldn’t help his mouth gap opened. “What?!” He threw an outrageous look to Megatron, who replied with a triumphing smirk. “WHAT THE SLAG-?” he screeched.

The warm smile that Alpha Trion gave him made him wish to set his weapon against the older mech’s head and shoot him mercilessly.

“Only somebody who loves you could have done what Silvergun had done.” Alpha Trion nodded lightly, looking impressed. “Linking his own spark casing to yours in order to supply it with energy, this is an undivided token of love!”

Still gaping in surprise, Starscream peered at his so-called bond mate.

“That’s nothing. When you love somebody, you’re ready to give your life for him.” Megatron adopted a smug look and flashed his optics in triumph. “Don’t you think so, love?” he asked the quivering Seeker.

Starscream would have liked to be a nanobot and hide somewhere far away from him.

“That’s lovely!” Alpha Trion set a hand on one of Starscream’s shoulder vents, and threw him a compassionate look. “You don’t have to worry anymore. You can hide here from the Quintessons. They don’t know the location of our lair, and they will never find it either. We’re used to hiding the position of our base from their radars.”

It took all his might for the Seeker to follow the explanations of the mech. His CPU was overflown with shame and an emotion he couldn’t define. If he had been human, he would have certainly blushed red.

“What- What base? Who are you?” he croaked pathetically.

“We are mechs who escaped from the smelting pit of the Quintessons.” The soft expression of Alpha Trion disappeared as he banged his fists. “The old models that those monsters decide to terminate when they decide we have become obsolete. We come from all the Transformers’ categories here: merchants, courtesans, gladiators…”

“You’re… a fugitive. Like us?”

“We could say so,” Alpha Trion nodded his agreement. “We discovered this place and decided to settle here, far from the surface of Cybertron. The gallery is a real labyrinth, and the Vampiricons rarely come down here. We were very surprised to find you and your two other companions.”

“What companions?” The optics of Megatron flashed dangerously. “Who are you talking about?” he inquired drily.

“The two other gladiators. What are their names? Oh, yes… Skullcrusher and Hellraizor. We found them this morning. They are currently at our second repair bay,” Alpha Trion explained. He then sent Megatron a warmer smile. “Don’t worry. They are not seriously wounded,” he added.

“They are not our companions,” Megatron retorted, “I don’t know what they told you, but they are not our friends. They kept us prisoner and were ready to trade us to the Quintessons!”

Alpha Trion seemed disconcerted by this assertion and caressed nervously the wire that hung from the top of his mouth, reminiscent of the moustache of a human.

“That’s not what they told me,” he said nervously.

“Of course, they told you lies!” Starscream shrieked, wings quivering with anger. “Skullcrusher is one of the most abject tyrants and manipulators that I had the misfortune to meet!” He jumped off the table and stood in front of Alpha Trion. “You must not let him approach us. He will certainly try to trade us to the Quintessons again,” he asserted vehemently.

The purple mech seemed increasingly puzzled.

“I see. I will hold a meeting with them and check what they have to say. On the meantime, I’ll make sure you don’t have to cross their path. The base is vast, you know.”

“Thank you, Alpha Trion.” Megatron stood by the side of Starscream, setting a hand on a red shoulder vent. The Seeker couldn’t help but trembling. “The two gladiators are dangerous, and I am worried for the security of Starscream.”

The knees of the Seeker buckled, and he was about to collapse to a heap when Megatron seized him by the waist, pulling him close. As a response, his energy field burned and a cry of discomfort escaped him. Oblivious to what happened between the two, Alpha Trion smiled tenderly.

“I perfectly understand that you want to protect your bond mate. I repeat, you’re safe here. My men will prepare your quarters so that you can make yourselves comfortable and have some privacy,” the mech stated. “The only thing I will require from you is some help with our daily tasks. You’re gladiators, and we need skilled Transformers to teach the handling of weapons to our troops. As I mentioned, they are merchants or courtesans, and don’t know how to handle a sword or an axe.”

“You can count on us!” Megatron exclaimed, pressing Starscream against him. He looked at his prey and gave him a malicious smile. “Can’t he, love?”

Starscream’s face outlined a grimace, and he managed to escape the grip that held him prisoner. He made out the exit from the place and ran to the door, leaving his audience without adding a word.

“Are you sure he doesn’t need to see a medic?” asked Alpha Trion, looking worried.

“No. He just needs some rest. I’ll see to it that he takes a proper recharge and relax a little.”

Megatron outlined a malicious smirk and took his leave.

They spent a great part of that day waiting on one of the stalls nearby Alpha Trion’s quarters. Megatron kept staring at him, raising his nervousness to an unbearable level. He tried to keep his attention focused on his surroundings, and barely succeeded. He wanted to yell at his companion to stop pressuring him this way, when two lieutenants of Alpha Trion offered to guide them to their new quarters.

To his greatest disappointment, they had to share a small place. Even worse: Starscream walked into the room and noticed a unique recharge berth that occupied a large part of the floor.

“It’s a berth for two Transformers!”

He threw a frightened glance at Megatron, who shrugged his shoulders with disdain.

“Remember? They believe we are bond mates. That’s why!” he replied and then peered at him angrily. “If it doesn’t suit you, you’re very welcome to sleep on the ground or even outside!”

The young gladiator walked past him and sprawled on the berth. He plugged himself to the berth, positioned his hands beneath his head, as to make a pillow, and offlined his optics.

Starscream stood beside the berth, at a loss what to do or think. Maybe apologizing would help to improve the atmosphere? Or perhaps, it would give Megatron wrong hopes… It was better to forget apologies.

He tried to settle on the ground, but the space between the wall and the berth wasn’t large enough for his wings. He finally mustered all his courage and lay beside the other mech. He carefully avoided contact with the silver Transformer, lying on the edge of the berth with his wings in an awkward balance into space. The position was uncomfortable, and it took him a long time before he fell into recharge.

O

Megatron waited for the Seeker to fall asleep to delicately seize him and place him on top of his own body, reproducing their positions in the pit.

“And now, we’ll see who is going to give up, Little Prince!” he murmured before falling into recharge.

The first sensation of Starscream when he emerged from a nightmare was that he was not in the position he last remembered. He powered his optics and stared at the silver metal of Megatron’s neck. He was resting almost on top of the gladiator, his waist prisoner of a strong arm. A dark hand covered his hips, and the other imprisoned azure fingers.

“How dare you–!?” the Seeker barked. He tried to stand up, but the grip on his waist and hip didn’t loosen. He fell back into the embrace of the silver mech, who stared at him with amusement.

“Take your hands off me!” he shrieked, trying to slap him.

Megatron chuckled and then flipped their positions. He pinned the Seeker’s arms over his head and spread his legs apart, crushing him under his greater weight.

“What are you doing?” The Seeker’s energon ran cold when the gladiator smiled predatorily.

“Taking what I deserve!” Megatron lowered his face to kiss Starscream, but the Seeker bit him on the lips as he tried.

“This is rape!”

“Oh, stop being a prissy little virgin!” growled Megatron, swallowing the energon that leaked from the cut. “If you think you can turn me on and then walk out on me easily, you’re wrong!”

The gladiator crushed his mouth against Starscream’s lip component, forcing it to open. The Seeker moaned at the intrusion and wriggled in protest. As Megatron expected, he quickly admitted defeat and kissed back. The gladiator freed his hands and relished when the Seeker slid them on his back, stroking gently. He reluctantly broke the kiss and smiled at the breathless expression of the mech beneath him.

“That’s why I refused to give up. You think I didn’t see your reactions yesterday? Your body responded to each of my touches. Your energy field speaks louder than your pretty mouth. You’ll have to find better than the pitiful excuses you served me!”

Starscream looked desperate. “This is wrong,” he murmured, shaking his head. “This is so wrong.”

“What is wrong?” Megatron let one of his hand travelled down Starscream lower body. He found the panel hiding the Seeker’s interface chamber, and ripped it open. “Nothing is wrong,” he murmured. “You want me. I want you. Period.”

O

The Seeker arched up when he felt the delicious burn. More treacherous than ever, his body responded immediately to the teasing and allowed access to the forbidden treasure.

“You… You never change. Always abusing me!” he breathed. His head slammed on the berth as another delicious spasm shook his body. He offlined his optics and gave out a long moan of pleasure.

Pleased by this reaction, the gladiator kissed his neck, his jaw and devoured his lips.

“I’m not abusing you. You desire me. I just want you to realize it,” he replied. “I’ll stop if you ask me to.” He tasted without restraint the energon when he bit a cable on Starscream’s throat too hard. “But you won’t ask me to stop. It’s exactly what you crave for!” he whispered in the Seeker’s audios.

A black hand stroked gently the surface of his right wing, adding more confusion to his mind and sensations to his burning body. He tilted his head back and moaned loudly, as the longing between his thighs became rapidly painful. His hand squeezed frenetically Megatron’s shoulders while heat grew dramatically in his lower section. The interface protocol launched almost despite his will, transforming the tingles into a real torture. He needed more. Now.

Right now!

“No. Don’t stop.” He cupped Megatron’s face in his hands and kissed him feverishly. “Don’t stop!” he rasped, his voice hoarse with desire.

The gladiator kissed back with the same passion while grabbing firmly his hips. Starscream broke the kiss when he felt the interface port of Megatron connecting to his and shrieked as raw electricity blasted through his inner circuits. His body fed the same electric wave back to Megatron, creating a loop that grew in intensity between them.

His CPU quickly failed to process. He arched up and twisted in Megatron’s grasp, moaning his pleasure each time thunderbolts crushed his delicate circuits. He almost overloaded, as the loop became a strong pulse, rattling his internals. Megatron’s feedback was strong. Violent. Passionate. Calibrated to drive his sanity away. Waves of electricity hit him deeper and slower, threatening to dismantle him.

He was to explode from the inside, consumed by the power of the interface. And he loved this prospect.

O

Megatron bit his lips and straightened up a little, drinking unashamedly at the sight of the Seeker. Starscream’s graceful body arched between his thighs, trembling under his touch and the power of the interface. The flyer tossed his head aside and moaned as a new energy wave sent him deeper into the pang of bliss.

He brushed gently the dark faceplate, tracing the features of the ravished mech. Starscream tilted his head back to give him a better access to his neck, begging for more caresses. He reached the offered throat, tracing gently the cables before squeezing lightly. The Seeker replied by a moan that definitely warmed up his boiling energon. Starscream was gorgeous in pleasure; so soft and delicious that Megatron now wanted more than a simple overload with him. He wanted his spark.

“Starscream!”

The Seeker moaned in response to his name, kissing eagerly his lover. Megatron’s spark pulsed hard in its casing, as if it wanted to break out of his chest. He seized the Seeker and held him possessively against himself, groping for the latch opening the canopy. He found it and tossed apart the metal parts, allowing a smile to grace his features when Starscream’s internals showed to his hungry optics. The spark casing was glowing shiny red, as an evidence of the Seeker’s excitement.

A gentle caress on the outer shell of his spark chamber was enough to have Starscream completely surrender to him. His spark chamber split open, allowing Megatron’s spark to devour his life core.

Starscream awoke sometime later, his body tingling deliciously from the violent overload provoked by their merging. Megatron was reclining beside him, caressing lazily his waist and thighs.

“Feeling good?” the gladiator asked, kissing him gently on the lips. “I don’t think you should try to move before you completely recover though,” he added and then grinned. “You almost imploded under my touch. Not bad of somebody whom you didn’t even like or desire, huh?”

Starscream smiled dizzily and kept silent, unable to formulate a clear answer.

Megatron kissed him again and then set his head on his chest, so as to check the pulse of his spark.

O

Megatron felt again this curious feeling washing through him when Starscream brushed the side of his helmet, and then caressed his face. All tensions had left him; he just felt good and serene. It had never happened since he had left the assembly line. He concentrated on the pulse of the Seeker’s spark; its frenetic rhythm had slowed down, and it was now quiet and regular. He looked up and admired once again the perfection of the dark face.

His doubts came back as the feeling took over him again. He had trapped the Seeker on this berth for the sake of pleasure. Nothing else. Even so, they had ended up merging their sparks like two Transformers who wanted to form a bond. He was now questioning himself. Did he want more than a one-night stand? Did he want love from Starscream?

Love… Megatron hardly imagined that feeling was for him. He had once believed in love with Redtrigger, but after being taken down, he had concluded he was a machine built for killing, not loving. Besides, he knew nothing about Starscream. The Seeker had turned his life upside down since they had met, transforming him into a fugitive and an outlaw. And his perfection… He just seemed to come from another planet or another time. Starscream was an addictive mystery, and he was intoxicated by him.

Once again, he was the slave of this odd feeling, and kissed the metal cockpit of his partner. Somehow, he knew he had crossed the point of no return.

O

Starscream couldn’t help thinking the sensation was wonderful. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so safe and relaxed. Loved? He discarded the idea, feeling awkward.

“I don’t understand a point,” the gladiator said after a moment. “What did you mean by “you always abuse me?” I might be a little rude and not very polished, but I have never abused you.” He looked up when Starscream’s spark gave a start. “Don’t you think it’s time to explain me who you really are and why you knew my name?”

The Seeker tensed up and threw him a pleading look. “No, not now… please.”

Megatron leaned beside him and placed his hand on the Seeker’s cockpit, caressing gently.

“I need to know.”

Starscream sighed and forced his CPU to run a little quicker. Slowly, words formed an explanation for the incredible secret of which he was the bearer.

“I come from the future of Cybertron. Million years in the future,” he stated. “The Quintessons are not ruling the planet anymore.”

“Good news. And I guess it’s why you can fly and transform, aren’t you?”

The gladiator didn’t look surprised. He was even smiling.

“Yes.”

“Do I still exist in this future?”

“You do. You are Megatron, leader of the Decepticon Army and ruler of Cybertron. The same Megatron that you saw on the coin.”

The smile on the silver faceplate grew wider. “I am the Lord of Cybertron?” Megatron’s energy field radiated pride and joy. “A good Lord, I hope.”

Starscream traced the angles of the silver faceplate with a finger, realizing he was handsome. He wondered if he should erase this smile from these young features by unveiling his future repulsive nature.

“Little Prince? Am I a good leader?”

The Seeker gathered his last strength and turned to his flank, finding his way into the gladiator’s arms. His body was swallowed in the comfortable embrace and a new kiss rewarded his initiative.

“You’re a tyrant,” he stated, avoiding the red gaze. “You split the Transformers into two factions, the Autobots and the Decepticons. You’re the Slag Maker and killed thousands of Cybertronians in the name of your ambitions. You transformed our planet into a dry desert, an insignificant piece of metal ignored by other civilizations. You’re a megalomaniac who wants to dominate the Universe. You’re a cruel leader who thinks his men are just cannon fodder.”

He shivered when a hand brushed the Decepticon logo on his left wing.

“This is my emblem?” Megatron asked. He caught Starscream’s chin and forced him to look at him. “What about us?”

The faceplate of the gladiator was empty of any expression.

“I am your second in command,” Starscream whispered, feeling his spark squashed by sorrow. “I don’t know why you gave me this title. You came from nowhere, hired me, twisted my mind, and transformed me into a psychotic that nobody loves. I think you desire me, but you only show me spite or hatred. You insult me, beat me, shoot me, but never kill me. You make my life a hell.” His optics flashed with anger. “I hate you for that! I betray you and want you dead!” he added.

Megatron outlined a bitter smile.

“In this future… Are you always that beautiful when you tell me such horrible things?” he asked, guiding the face of the Seeker to the crook of his neck. He held him tight as Starscream sobbed, ready to cry. “You’re right; we shouldn’t talk about this now.”

He caressed the flier until he felt him relax and then fell back into recharge. Then the expression on his face changed to despair.

‘I don’t want to become that monster!’

Go to: Chapter 6 – Chapter 8