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“And we’re back! Primus, I am so hype to get back to work on the newest Macross series, and wow, it’s just so great to see so many new faces that are hopeful to be on the team! Thank you so much for your interest, and—”
Thundercracker was rudely cut off from his excited monologuing with a not-so-light tap on his shoulder. He turned away from the crowd of newly-recruited flight frames, all of whom were staring at him slightly bewildered, and found Jetfire standing behind him, frowning.
“Oh, hey, Big Guy,” Thundercracker said. He whipped around to face the crowd again, gesturing at the huge seeker behind him. “Hey everyone, it’s Jetfire! I’m sure no introductions are needed, but just in case, former star of the show, now the head stunt director. He’ll be orienting all of you over the next few weeks. Can we get a round of applause?”
A few scattered claps came from the assembled stunt recruits — all of them seeming a little bewildered — as Jetfire waved them away. “That won’t be necessary,” Jetfire said, loudly and quickly to quell the building applause. “Thundercracker, can I talk with you for a moment?”
“Sure thing, Boss. Take five, team!” Thundercracker ignored Jetfire rolling his eyes as he pulled him away from the crowd, who were now just sort of awkwardly loitering on the large open field, whispering to each other. Jetfire carefully maneuvered both of them away, weaving through picturesque backdrops of oceanside harbors and cityscapes, and narrowly avoiding the stacked crates of prop mer-cats and jellyfish. Thundercracker felt like he’d been through a bit of a maze by the time Jetfire deigned to release him. “What can I do for you, Chief?”
“Firstly,” Jetfire began, maneuvering Thundercracker to look directly at him. “Stop with the nicknames. My designation is Jetfire.” Before Thundercracker could offer a rebuttal, he barrelled onwards. “And secondly, I’m supposed to orient the new stunt trainees, not you. What are you doing here?”
Thundercracker squirmed, unable to stop his wings from flicking nervously. “I wasn’t trying to steal your thunder or anything, pun not intended. It’s just, well, you know…” He leaned in close, as if about to disclose a secret, though their height difference still meant he had to project his voice a little. “You’re not exactly the most people-y person, you know?”
Jetfire glared at him.
After an expansive shrug, Thundercracker sighed. “Also, a lot of the writing team thinks I should get out there and talk to people more. They say my dialogue is getting a little stilted. Can you believe that?”
Jetfire ignored that as well. “Speaking of the writing team, shouldn’t you be working on ironing out the script? I need to know what we’re looking for in new characters before we get too far into training.”
Thundercracker shrugged again. “What’s to know? We can always paint ‘em if someone with talent has the wrong colors.”
Jetfire brushed past him wordlessly. The crowd was still alternating between whispering and staring at them, and Jetfire seemed to be trying hard to ignore it. “Alright team, sorry for the interruption. As you probably know, you can call me Jetfire. Over the next couple of weeks, we will be working on the basics of Macross stunt fighting and flying.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Thundercracker said, poking out from behind him. “He won’t teach you how to do GERWALK mode for almost a month. Learned that the hard way…”
“Thundercracker,” Jetfire sighed, slipping a hand over his eyes.
“Oh, I just remembered something really important!” Thundercracker said, stepping out from behind him before Jetfire could stop him. “Party tonight! We’re celebrating getting renewed and getting back to work. All of you are invited! Old crew, new crew, and even crew hopefuls. That means you, Proxima, I see you back there!”
At the shout, Proxima carefully sat down some of the filming equipment along with the rest of what the filming and lighting crew had already unpacked, and sighed, only waving in confirmation that she had heard.
“You need to get out more! I swear, I’m surrounded by you stuffy types… Are you inviting the wife?” Thundercracker shouted at her.
“Thundercracker,” Jetfire intervened for both their sakes, “shouldn’t you get back to writing? Surely this is enough interaction for now?”
“Maybe,” Thundercracker muttered. “Anyway, I can write from anywhere, so I was just going to sit over there.” He held up his data pad demonstratively, and pointed to a spot over the side of the training field. “Seeing the stunt crew doing all their tricks always helps get the ideas flowing.”
Jetfire sighed. “Very well. As long as you let us get to work.”
“Sure thing! You won’t even know I’m here, Ch—” He caught himself about to blurt out another nickname, and smirked apologetically. “I mean, Jetfire.”
Jetfire stared at him for a moment, but nodded, seemingly willing to let things drop. Thundercracker sighed in relief and retreated off to the sidelines. He pulled up all of his documents on his tablet, occasionally looking up to see Jetfire whipping the new recruits into shape, forming them into straight lines, and running them through simple motions, like slides and tumbles. Thundercracker tapped his stylus along the tablet, making a few marks on his document that he hadn’t meant, and decided he needed to address it. Also maybe changing his font would increase his focus. Maybe even the document’s background color…
Thundercracker wasn’t sure how much time he had passed that way, but he hadn’t written a single word by the time he heard a barking in the distance and his wings perked as he turned around. “Buster!”
Buster barked, happily bounding up to him. He lowered his face for her to gladly lick all over his face.
“Buster, I missed you so much!”
“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, Thundercracker.”
He looked up, and saw Marissa standing a few paces away.
“I missed you too,” he said, and he knew that even though she was crossing her arms dismissively, she was happy to see him too. “I’m really glad you were able to make it back for the party though. How was Cybertron?”
“Same old, same old,” Marissa said, shrugging dismissively. “Thanks for letting me have Buster this week though. I think she enjoyed getting to go on an interplanetary walk.”
Thundercracker smiled, scooping up Buster as he sat back up so he could continue to cuddle his dog. “I figured you might need her. She always makes me calmer.”
Marissa walked up to Thundercracker’s abandoned tablet, working the main button with her foot. Thundercracker watched her warily, but didn’t stop her.
“So, how’s the writing going?”
“It’s…” Thundercracker paused, and Buster seemed to sense he needed some comfort and head-butt his cheek. “I’m really nervous about it, Marissa. I’m the head writer now!”
“So?” she asked, looking up at him. “You’ve been writing for the franchise for a long time.”
“Yeah, but not planning out whole arcs!” Thundercracker said. “I mean, I have to figure out all the main conflicts and themes, and…” He set Buster down on his lap. “I know this will sound crazy to you, because you know that I am really great at being romantic all the time…”
Marissa bit her lip for some reason, but nodded. “Mmhmm.”
“But a lot of people don’t think I’m really good at writing believable romances,” he continued. “And love triangles are really important to Macross! I have to step up my game.”
Marissa hummed in thought again. “Well, I don’t really know much about writing, but don’t people say ‘write what you know’? Maybe you can just draw more from your own experiences to make things more believable?”
Thundercracker squinted at her. “Is there a love triangle I don’t know about?”
Marissa rolled her eyes. “You’re five million years old! I’m sure you have some experiences from before right now that you can draw on.”
“Hmm, maybe.” His gaze wandered, settling on the training field. He watched Jetfire, flipping through the air as the new recruits watched on in awe.
Slowly, a smile began creeping across his face.
“Oh no, I know that look,” Marissa muttered.
He looked down at her, wide-eyed and grinning. “Hey, do you know if there are anymore scheduled space bridge trips between Earth and Cybertron today?”
“I think so, but…”
Before she could finish her thought, Thundercracker took off, quickly tucking Buster into his cockpit before he transformed, leaving Marissa groaning on the ground.
Jetfire savored the feeling the wind beneath his wings as he swung around in mid-air, flipping and rolling as the sun beat down. Whenever he began to feel bogged down in his work, the trainings and the meetings and talking with people, this is was what brought him back in. The joy of flying.
“Oi,” his stunt partner said over their radio, and Jetfire felt a kick in his hand. “Quit showboating for the babies and let’s do this.”
Jetfire sighed and twisted in the air into a dive. “You just want your turn to show off, Eiji,” he chided his human companion, but didn’t delay in getting things underway. He released his grip on his partner while they dove, pulling away his hand. He’d done this hundreds of times before — they both had — but Jetfire never quite got rid of that mix of fear and thrill at execution. He knew that they had enough safeties in place that he could get any stunt partner back down to the ground without a hitch, but in practice it still gave him chills.
After a few flips and spins, Eiji clipped into the harness in Jetfire’s open cockpit, and pulled himself in. “I give the people what they want,” he said with a laugh.
Jetfire flipped to land on his feet and gave only a slight pause after he skidded to a stop. He knew many of the recruits were fans, and they’d want a good look at GERWALK mode. He bent to let Eiji jump out of his cockpit and safely onto the ground, and waited a beat before transforming back to bot mode. He once again found himself waving off some applause for the stunt.
“Thank you for helping to demonstrate,” Jetfire said.
Eiji just replied with a wink and a wave, quick to get back to his own human trainees on a field located just safely away from the giant mechs.
“Alright, now one of the most important things to remember is that almost all of our stunts are done with human partners, either stunt doubles or the actors themselves, depending on the intricacy of the action required.” Jetfire explained turning his attention back to the recruits.
“Before you can even think about doing a stunt as complex and dangerous as we just showed, you have to learn the basics,” Jetfire continued to explain. “And even more crucially, you must always be conscious of how fast you are going and the g-force that will be exerted, as a human cannot withstand the same amount of force as a Cybertronian can.” He walked over to the huge dry erase board (specifically made for him, and he was rather proud of that) and flipped it over to the blank side. “If at any point, you’re not sure if the force of a particular move will be harmful for a human, simply recall this simple physics formula — plugging in the variables of your speed, angle, etc. — to determine if it is safe for a human partner.”
He finished writing the formula, having to pause a few times when he ran out of space and had to rewrite a few things. He turned back to the group, only to find blank stares greeting him. He looked back at the board, wondering if his handwriting was inscrutable, when the problem occurred to him.
“Oh,” he murmured to himself, cupping his chin. “Okay, let me see if I can simplify this…”
“What, like it’s hard? You just need to feel it out.”
At the new voice, Jetfire looked up. The direction that he looked in was empty, only a vague purple blur to give him a hint, but the distinct teleportation fwip sound caused him to whip around, and he found Skywarp on the other side of his whiteboard. “See, things start feeling kinda hinkey when you get up to the point where human might get a little woozy. Around here,” he said, smudging Jetfire’s equations on the board. “If you can’t slow down, you can always slip sideways dimensionally to soften the blow.”
“Most people don’t travel extra-dimensionally as a normal part of flying, ‘Warp,” Thundercracker said, slowly walking up to them. It was then that Jetfire remembered how blessedly (and suspiciously) uninterrupted the training had been for the past few hours.
Skywarp huffed. “Well, that seems like their problem.”
Thundercracker ignored his trinemate’s scoff, hugging him. Skywarp reacted about as well as an unruly cat being shoved into a crate. “I’m glad you came.”
Jetfire rested his forehead in his hand. “Thundercracker, what exactly is Skywarp doing here?”
“I invited him,” Thundercracker said, an innocent look on his face. “For the party.”
“Fine, but…” Jetfire stopped, his brain caught in a realization. “Wait. Just Skywarp?”
Thundercracker shuffled. “Well…”
Jetfire suddenly became aware of a squeaking on his whiteboard. He swung around, looking wide-eyed at the seeker writing on his board, correcting his equations with a pen as wickedly red as his paint. Jetfire felt as if he had been transported back to the past, watching Starscream smugly solve equations others thought he had no skill for, all with that beautiful sharp smile and well-preened wings held proudly upward.
Actually, at second glance… Starscream looked awful. His frame clearly hadn’t been buffed in some time, or seen any kind of cleaning solvent, for that matter. He had a rust stick dangling from one side of his mouth that he was vaguely chewing as he worked, his free hand holding a crumbled pack that suggested they might not be store-bought.
“You forget how to do math while you’ve been rotting your processor on this rock, Skyfire?” Starscream muttered as he continued smudging away Jetfire’s writing with the back of his hand, clearly not caring about the smudging color on his hand.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Starscream eat candy,” Thundercracker whispered to Skywarp. “Unless he was teasing Megatron.”
“Yeah, well.” Skywarp shrugged. “They don’t let you take liquid fuel through the space-bridge without clearance anymore, and apparently he infused those with nightmare fuel, so… I wouldn’t light any fires near him is what I’m saying.”
“Primus,” Jetfire whispered, at the same time Thundercracker did.
“Alright, Starscream, why don’t we get you settled in?” Thundercracker said, shooting Jetfire a grin that was somewhere between impish and please-don’t-kill-me.
Starscream nodded, but shot a glance over Jetfire, before letting Thundercracker lead him away.
“Let me show you my trailer,” Thundercracker said, pulling him along, with Skywarp skulking behind them. “Hey Marissa! You wanna come?”
Marissa had changed in a jumpsuit, and was inching her way towards the training field. “Actually I was, uh… gonna help out Jetfire, sorry.”
Thundercracker just shot her a bright smile. “No worries. See you at the party!”
Starscream glared down at her. “Councilor Faireborn,” he said with a sloppy salute.
She nodded awkwardly back. “Starscream.”
Everyone silently watched as the trine made their way away, off to the clump of trailers in the distance.
“Hope you don’t mind me volunteering myself to help,” Marissa said, coming up to Jetfire’s foot. “I just didn’t want to hang out with Starscream.”
“I can eminently relate,” Jetfire said, still following the group with his eyes.
“I didn’t actually realize you knew Starscream that well…”
Jetfire flicked his wings. “Yes… I suppose I’m one of his less famous exes…”
“Oh,” Marissa said slowly. “Oh no…”
Jetfire nodded. “Indeed.”
Jetfire slipped out of the party after the first hour or so. He would have rather done so even sooner, but as soon as everyone was gathered, there had been toasts and speeches abounding. He admitted it was nice to see a lot of the old team making appearances, and a lot of them had great things to say, waxing nostalgic about the old days, and calling him out in the interest of giving credit where credit was due.
Jetfire understood it and appreciated it.
He’d just rather be elsewhere.
As much of a feat as it was for a Cybertronian, a particularly large one at that, to slip unnoticed from a human party venue, Jetfire had become a master at it over the years, and took his opportunity when he saw it. He skulked out to the the training field where floodlights had flicked on now that the sun hat set. He was sure if anyone came looking for him, it wouldn’t be hard to guess where he’d gone, but he wasn’t too concerned. He just needed time to clear his head.
He started studiously organizing some of the equipment, before pulling out a few of their tools and props and laying them out on racks beside the training field. He generally took some time before going into mock battle moves with new recruits, but the newest batch was quite eager and willing to learn. He smirked to himself, thinking about it. He respected that, and though he wouldn’t admit that this was why, their enthusiasm was what made him willing to progress training a little, if only to see their excitement.
He grabbed a simple staff, balancing it in his hand before flipping it over his forearm, carefully applying force to keep the right spin on it. He kept it moving as he went though a few battle stances, paying attention to his own footwork.
“Don’t tell me you’re adding melee weapons to the show now.”
Jetfire paused, and the staff’s momentum was lost, hitting the ground with a dull plink. He turned, and saw Starscream studying his own claws, leaning up against the props rack.
“Not unless Thundercracker is keeping something from me,” Jetfire said. He glared before picking up the staff. “Have to keep the trainees on their toes though.”
“Toes,” Starscream muttered, rolling his eyes. “You even talk like a human now.”
Jetfire planted the end of the staff into the ground. “Did you come out here for something, Starscream? I thought the open bar would keep you inside.”
Starscream scoffed, but apparently wasn’t off put enough to leave, instead inspecting the line of prop guns and missiles with disdain. “I decided to figure out why the star cut out of his own party.”
“It’s not my party, Starscream. It’s for the whole cast and crew,” Jetfire said.
“Yes, of course, to pat yourselves on the back and congratulate yourself for the dreck that you’re putting out into the universe.”
“Dreck that you’ve watched, apparently,” Jetfire said, getting the staff spinning again and trying to return to his routine. He could feel Starscream’s glare on the back of his neck, though.
Starscream didn’t have the teleportation power of his trinemate, but Jetfire almost could have sworn he did with the way he so smoothly appeared in front of him. There weren’t many non-projectile weapons among their props, but Starscream seemed to have found the only other polearm that Jetfire kept around, and posing with impeccable form, whacked lightly at the end of Jetfire’s prop staff.
Jetfire pulled away from him, standing up straight and glaring.
Starscream just grinned at the retreat. “Fine, I’ll confess. I’ve watched just enough episodes to know that you’re wasting your time here.” He lunged forward, swinging his staff in such an obvious way, that Jetfire knew he was just teasing him. He easily blocked it and shrugged it off.
“Not to be pedantic, but you have to watch at least eight episodes to really…” He looked away and sighed. “Nevermind, I’m not going to get into that with you.”
Infuriatingly, Starscream’s smile didn’t waver.
“Here I thought that you joining the Autobots was the worst of your bad choices,” Starscream said. “But look at you, on this rock, filming drivel for humans that know nothing about about life or war.”
“Your trinemate writes for it too.” He lunged, jabbing forward, only for Starscream to spin out of the way. “He’s even been in a few episodes.”
“Yes, and he makes terrible decisions too.” Starscream shrugged the staff over his shoulders and into his other hand, winding up to swing wide at him. Jetfire easily jumped out of the way, and parried him, hoping to throw him off balance. “You have potential, Skyfire. You could be the greatest scientist on all of Cybertron right now.”
“That’s not my name anymore,” Jetfire shouted as he landed, digging his back foot into the dirt. Starscream was still winding back from the parry, leaving his chest open. Jetfire took the opportunity, jabbing forward. “And I don’t want that!”
Starscream, fast as a flickering flame, dropped his staff altogether so he could grab Jetfire’s weapon. He pulled back on it, bringing Jetfire off balance, and jabbed his claws at the proto-flesh of his face. “You’ve forgotten everything we fought for!”
Jetfire batted the claws away from his face with a quick hit to Starscream’s forearm, and then lunged forward to headbutt him. Starscream seemed to be taken off-guard by Jetfire making this more physical, and though he managed to avoid much of the blunt force, he still ended up on the ground. “We fought for very different things, Starscream!”
Slightly disoriented, Starscream blinked up from the ground. His confusion surrendered to anger in the blink of an eye though. “I’m not talking about the war, you slagger, I’m talking about before that. University! Don’t you remember where you came from? Where we came from? Don’t you remember how much we struggled just to be accepted? For anyone to believe we had the processors for science! And now here you are, abandoning all of this and just churning out, what? Fetishized war propaganda?”
“That’s not—!” Jetfire cut himself off, swallowing his own words. “That’s not what we’re doing here,” he continued more quietly. “That’s not what I’m doing here.” He took a few steps back, returning his staff to his side and looking away.
“Then what exactly is it you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coping!” he blurted, and looked over to see Starscream’s face growing bewildered again. “Badly, arguably, but coping. The show’s about war, but not like that. We tell stories about how war is necessary, but also how it’s equally necessary to stop fighting. It’s about showing people the good in life and art, even when it seems like there is none. It’s about using what your talents to make positive change.” He glanced over at his whiteboard, still covered with Cybertronian math equations. “Even the talents that are less obviously applicable.”
Starscream was looking at the ground, seeming to consider this. Which made it all the more surprising when he struck out and swept Jetfire’s legs out from underneath him. Jetfire hardly had time to process it, ending up on the ground himself.
“That’s not good enough,” Starscream said. “We’re all coping. On Cybertron. Our home. That desperately needs as much help as it can get!”
Jetfire rolled over to glare at him. “Then where’s your much anticipated, triumphant return to science?” Jetfire barked at him.
“I’ve been doing more important things,” Starscream hissed out with a snarl.
“Like what?!” Jetfire shouted. “Political intrigue? Anyone can wear a crown, Starscream!”
“And anyone can be a tyrant!” Starscream spat back. “You want to let the functionalists get their filthy claws in things again. You can’t look me in the eyes and tell me none of your precious Autobots want to see the old senate restored, just as it was.”
Jetfire kicked him. not bothering to get up. “The problem is the Decepticons decided the best response to tyranny was to replace it with your own. And you followed Megatron because you were in love with his brand of tyranny, and thought you could do it all the same. But if you really remembered where you came from, you’d know that’s not the answer. And that’s why I left!”
Starscream hissed at the blow. “Left and joined the Autobots like everyone else too cowardly to push for something real.”
“I’m not talking about the Autobots,” Jetfire said, pushing himself up to his feet. “I’m talking about you.”
Starscream went quiet at that, his eyes burning with a smoldering rage, and the silence was almost worse than the screeching. Like waiting for an ambush from a platoon that you knew could be just around any bend, but moving without a trace.
“You don’t get to lecture about me giving up on everything we fought for,” Jetfire said, his voice dropping to a rumbling whisper. “The mysteries of the universe will still be there in a century or two. For now… for now I’ve got this.” He gestured at the props with a sweep of his hand. He considered walking away, but he wasn’t sure he could manage it yet.
Walking away from Starscream was always easier on paper than it was in practice.
Starscream made it easier by swiping at his legs again.
Jetfire transformed, but only halfway, leaving his arms and legs still out under his cockpit and wings. Starscream faltered for a moment, confronted with the unfamiliar GERWALK mode. Jetfire wasted no time using the distraction to kick him in the face.
He followed the momentum to flip backwards, and fully transformed back to bot mode while Starscream reeled.
“I always thought that was dumb,” Starscream moaned into his hands. “You’ll strip your t-cog that way.”
Jetfire picked up the two staff props and returned them to their places, before walking away. “Not if you know what you’re doing,” he shot back.
Starscream didn’t answer.
“Are you really getting anything from this?” Skywarp whispered.
Thundercracker shushed him, furiously trying to keep up with his note-taking. Starscream and Jetfire were talking so fast in the heat of their fight, but… “This is pure gold,” Thundercracker whispered to him. “It’s so real and raw. This will be great for the show with just a few tweaks, I just know it.”
Skywarp looked at him skeptically. “This isn’t the only reason you invited Starscream, is it?”
Thundercracker shrugged. “Even if it was, he’s manipulated us for his own gain way more than we could ever pay him back for.”
After a considering look, Skywarp shrugged, conceding the point.
“Shit, Jetfire’s walking away,” Thundercracker whispered, watching the two break away from each other on the field.
“Time to go then,” Skywap said, grabbing his arm.
“Wait, Sky—” Before he could say anything, they were already back in Skywarp’s trailer. Thundercracker sighed. “I hope we didn’t miss anything.”
Skywarp shrugged. “Even if you did, I’m sure it was enough.” He opened the door to Thundercracker’s washracks — three weeks he’d sunk into demanding that even as a writer, he needed a private washrack — and slumped to the floor.
“You gonna sleep in there?” Thundercracker muttered.
“After that display, I’m sure as slag not sharing a berth with a riled up Starscream.”
Thundercracker shrugged at that. He wasn’t in a hurry to get to bed anyway, settling down at his desk. Buster was contently curled up in her bed at the back corner of the desk against the wall, and Thundercracker did his utmost to not disturb her as he set up his tablet on the table, determined to review his notes and see what could be translatable to the show.
As Skywarp predicted, Starscream showed up a beat later, looking like a raging bull. He slammed the door after he entered, and proceeded to starfish himself on Thundercracker’s berth.
“Have fun at the party?” Thundercracker asked.
Starscream just glared at him, and rolled over to recharge, either not hearing or ignoring Skywarp’s soft chuckles from the washrack floor.
Starscream scraped himself out of Thundercracker’s recharge berth early the next morning. At first, he couldn’t recall quite why his frame was pinging with minor damage from every nook and cranny, including his face, but slowly the memories trickled back.
He growled, and considered breaking something. He paused before testing his claws against Thundercracker’s firm berth as he became aware of the sounds around him. It was quiet, mostly, except the hum of other mechs around him. And though he loathed admitting it, the sound of other mechs was an oddly comforting sound that he hadn’t heard in some time. He sat up and looked around. Thundercracker was asleep at his desk, his furry animal cuddled up against his cheek. In the other direction, he could see Skywarp’s leg sticking out of the washrack.
He rolled his eyes and got out of bed as silently as he could, grabbing a cube of energon before slinking out the door. He intended to get out as soon as he could, but he needed more fuel and a good stretch before he fled. He shuddered a bit at the cool air outside, cringing as he walked across the still-dewy grass with the sun barely cresting over the horizon. Organic planets were the worst, and he’d be happy to go back to Cybertron.
Well, not happy. But at least he’d be unhappy in a less soggy place.
He wandered aimlessly for a while, before finding himself just behind the jet training field. He groaned, watching the stunt team hopefuls helping each other do sloppy rolls and twists, prop guns aimed unsteadily at each other. He rolled his optics, fully intending to leave, when a shout made him wince.
“Starscream!”
Skyfire — Jetfire — waved for his team to continue practicing while he jogged over to Starscream. For his part, Starscream considered transforming and flying away as fast as his thrusters would take him. But, he felt frozen to the spot as Jetfire approached.
He was wearing… something. A large white canvas tarp with the face of some human girl printed on it, and tied around his waist and arms to keep it on. He looked up to Jetfire’s face and found that he had his battle visor on, hiding his eyes.
“What in the name of Primus is that?” Starscream said, nodding at the strange cloth.
Jetfire looked down at it, stretching out the fabric at the bottom. “Oh, yeah… The crew made me a t-shirt. I wear it for training sometimes.”
Starscream balked. “A what?”
Jetfire sighed. “It’s got a character from the show on it. My favorite one. Her name is Minmay.”
“The screechy one…” Starscream hissed.
Jetfire leveled a finger at his face. “I will kick you again.”
“Is that what you came over here for?”
Jetfire exhaled and looked away for a moment. “I… I don’t have time for a fight.”
“Clearly,” Starscream said, crossing his arms. “You’ve got a pack of sparklings over there that have got no idea what they’re doing. Half of them look like Camiens. I bet they’ve never even seen a firearm before.”
“Do you want to help me whip them into shape?”
Starscream blinked at him. With his eyes hidden, Starscream lacked a sense of if he was serious, but a look at his wings gave him the sense that Jetfire was at least a little nervous about asking. Which meant, he might be serious.
“Really?” Starscream asked. “You want me to help.”
“If you think you’re up to it…”
Starscream knew bait when he smelled it. Jetfire surely knew that.
Starscream smiled, and bit anyway.
By the time the sun was setting, the recruits were eager to get off the field and break for the night, though their spirits were high. Starscream had bent to his knees before eventually flopping onto his back, as Jetfire smirked down at him.
His smirk disappeared as Thundercracker bounded up, Buster following along at his heels. “Hey! You two having fun? Oh, Jetfire, you’re wearing your waifu shirt! Nice!”
“His what?” Starscream asked from the ground, giving the sky a bewildered look.
Jetfire flicked his visor up, to properly glare at him. “What can we do for you, Thundercracker?”
He smiled and thrust two tablets out at them. “Okay, I drafted some dialogue. It took all night, but I want to see what you think.”
Jetfire took the tablet with a dubious grimace. It took a lot more prodding, but eventually Starscream sighed and sat up, taking the data pad.
Thundercracker was bouncing on his heels, grinning as wide as his face plate would allow. “Okay, Jetfire, you read Keith. And Starscream, you read Roid.”
Starscream grimaced. “You’ve forgotten everything we fought for,” he read, with no emotion other than a clear disdain. “Keith shouts this, from the top of a really handsome jet, maybe a nice blue one.”
“You don’t have to read that part,” Thundercracker said, waving at him. “Those are just action notes and suggestions.”
Jetfire sighed, scrolling to his line. “I am beginning to think we fought for different things, Roid.”
“I do not mean this war, I’m saying this as a cool way to allude back to our past,” Starscream read, his squint deepening with each word. “Don’t you remember where you came from? Where we came from? Back when we were organic children.”
“No, it is you who forgot where you came from,” Jetfire read, looking skeptical. “You have abandoned all your principles in favor of political intrigue, like trying to kill my half brother and stuff. But you forgot… another thing, and that is that anyone can wear a crown. By which, I mean, you don’t have to be such a dick about this…” Jetfire looked over to Thundercracker. “Is this just our conversation from last night? Transcribed… badly?”
Thundercracker sighed, his wings dipping. “Frag, is it noticeable? I thought I changed it up enough that it would be original…”
Starscream had begun just scrolling through the manuscript, before pausing and glaring at a line. “This part literally says fake-Jetfire left fake-me for Optimus Prime.”
“Slag, did I really write Optimus Prime?” Thundercracker fell to his knees in front of where Starscream was sitting to grab the tablet from him. “I meant to replace that with the character name, I just had that as a placeholder so that I would remember to get all the love triangle stuff in there.”
Jetfire sputtered. “Wait, you think I had a thing with Optimus Prime?”
“Well, I dunno,” Thundercracker said with a shrug. “But, it’s Macross! I needed a love triangle, and you kinda fit Roid and Keith, but then you guys were talking about Starscream’s thing with Megatron, and there’s no good Macross stand-in for Megatron to Starscream’s Roid, so then a got to thinking about who I could sub in for Megatron on Jetfire’s side.” His hands bounced back and forth as he explained each logical leap. “And Optimus Prime just made sense… I mean, it would be easier if there were a love triangle I could plug you into where Jetfire is the one left hanging, but…”
Jetfire glared at him. Then gestured at his shirt. Then glared at him, with renewed vigor.
Thundercracker blinked. “Minmay?” His eyes widened. “Oh, scrap, I could have made you Minmay.” His hands flew to his mouth. “Scrap! I mean… Lady M! I mean, nothing!” He looked up at Jetfire. “Wait, how did you know…”
“I’m just saying, if there’s not a Minmay return finally, I’m rioting,” Jetfire said, crossing his arms. “Also, isn’t Roid dead?”
Thundercracker stared at him. “Yes… Yes, and nothing could ever change that. Unrelatedly, can you give me those tablets back and forget we ever spoke?”
Jetfire rolled his eyes, carefully taking his shirt off. “Starscream, would you like to go for a fly?”
“More than you can imagine,” Starscream replied, rolling off the ground.
Thundercracker sighed and sunk into the ground in Starscream’s place. “Well now what?”
Buster bounded up from the sidelines, and licked his face.
Jetfire transformed midair, hitting the beach with a spray of sand when his feet hit the ground. He glanced behind him to see Starscream landing behind him, in a practiced battle pose born of habit, that wasn’t in the least hindered by the sand. He smirked. The last streaks of the setting sun were still fighting to be seen, streaking through the purpling sky and the rippling waves before them.
Starscream looked out at it. He seemed calmer, farther away from people, and Jetfire smirked.
He let them stand in silence for a bit, just taking in the sound of crashing waves for a moment. “I crash landed not far from here,” he said, and saw Starscream startle a bit at the sentiment. “I was shot down over the water just south, that way.” He pointed off, out into the water past the curving shore.
“I…” For the first time in ages, Jetfire thought Starscream looked afraid. Like Jetfire might hold a grudge against the Decepticon Air Commander himself for it.
Jetfire chuckled, perhaps a bit cruelly for what it did to Starscream’s expression. “It’s okay. I found something better when I washed up.”
Starscream frowned at that, but his worry seemed to ebb.
“You can too,” Jetfire said, giving him an impish look.
Starscream huffed, but didn’t seem to be in a fighting mood. He let his hand nearest Jetfire fall to his side. “Pretty presumptuous of you, Skyf— I mean…”
Jetfire took pity, and grabbed his hand. “You can call me Skyfire if you want.”
Starscream fell silent, only managing to glance at him for a moment, before looking away. There was a long pause, just the two of them standing silently on the beach, before Starscream spoke again. “Will you teach me to do that weird half transformation?” he asked quietly.
Jetfire smiled. “Only if you actually watch the show.”