Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pain.

Pitch darkness.

Then, lights. Blinking, flashing, moving.

Colors like one had never seen before. Glistening, blinking, watching.

Then, a voice. A voice the bot knew.

“Give it to me straight, Ratchet.” Windblade said, “How is he?”

Shuffling. The murmur of activity all around the medical facility. Then, a chuckle. A voice the bot did not know.

“I don’t need to give it to you straight, because…

Rubble is going to be okay.”

“GAUGE!” A shout startled Rubble awake, causing him to jerk up and grip the sides of his medical slab.

A young, blueish Cybertronian burst into the room grabbing the slab and staring at Rubble.

“I’m not the only one with two mentors anymore!” Gauge beamed, grabbing Rubbles hand and shaking it enthusiastically, “I’m Gauge! Arcee and Greenlight are-“

“Ready to take you home.” Arcee finished as she walked in and placed a hand on Gauge’s helm.

“I’m Rubble. I saw your ceremony, I think.” Rubble smiled to his new friend.

“Did Bumblebee tell you? ‘Cuz Greenlight told me Windblade was your new mentor!” Gauge babbled, “Isn’t that cool? We both have two-“

“GAUGE! Rubble doesn’t have two mentors.” Arcee whispered sternly, a little too loud as Greenlight leaned into the doorframe.

“But Greenlight said-“

“Greenlight didn’t mention that Bumblebee was-“ Arcee began before whipping to face her beloved, “Greenie! You didn’t tell her?”

“She’s young! I thought you’d get mad if I did!” Greenlight threw up her hands.

“Tell her what?” Rubble asked.

“Tell me what?” Gauge asked.

The young bots spoke almost in unison. Greenlight came over and gingerly placed a hand on Rubble’s, giving him a sympathetic look. Arcee’s annoyance melted, and she glanced from Greenlight to Rubble, to Gauge, Greenlight, then back to Rubble.

“Rubble, little sprocket, Windblade was deemed your new mentor-“ Arcee began.

“GRIEF COUNSELLING CALL! Your favorite psychologist is here!” Spindly fingers reached to push open a door that was already open, and there Froid stood.

“FROID!” Arcee gasped.

“I don’t need grief counselling. I didn’t know Brainstorm.” Rubble tilted his head.

“I’m not here about Brainstorm, of course, that would be terribly traumatizing to witness, as it were, but I’m here to aid you after your mentor’s most heroic sacrifice.” Froid spun his words like the world’s worst spider.

“Uh.” Gauge said.

“It must be hard, hm? Knowing that when that horrible Ascenticon attacked you…”

Arcee opened her mouth to interrupt, but her voice fell quiet and flat as Froid finished.

“...That your mentor died to save your life?”

“It wasn’t hard. Because He. Didn’t. Know.” Arcee hissed.

“...Ah.” Froid steepled his fingers, “...Whoops.”

“The funeral ceremony is tomorrow.”

Windblade didn’t look behind her at the sound of Chromia’s voice. She remained leaned over the ridge of the hospital’s window, staring into the sunset. Blue and purple, merging together as the lights of various jets raced across the sky, almost lost, pin pricks of life. The stars shone just as bright as they always did, but it was a painful reminder.

In her years, she had seen this exact sight many, many times. But tonight, it felt different. Colder. Lonelier. Even with Chromia nearby, Windblade had never felt as helpless. It was like the approaching night sky was mocking Cybertron. Shining as bright as ever in the face of tragedy.

The universe didn’t care, and that made her feel sick.

“Second funeral in three cycles. Brainstorm, and now Bumblebee.” Windblade kept her gaze on the horizon.

“I know, I know.” Chromia came to Windblade’s side, “We know who killed Bumblebee, at least. We’re searching for Quake now.”

“How do you know it was Quake?” Windblade finally turned to look at Chromia. 

Chromia thought, just for a moment, that she had never seen Windblade this way before. The pain was potent in the air.

“Rubble gave a physical description of the attacker. We took witness accounts.” Chromia explained.

“And you figured it out already?”

“We’re officers. We investigate things.” Chromia scoffed, “What do you think we do all day? Sit around and wait for some grand, yet slow-as-sludge story to find us?”

“Sure would be easier if we could do that.” Windblade finally cracked a smile, “Unfortunate we have things to do instead of capturing throwaway deus ex machinas.”

“See, there’s that little smirk!” Chromia playfully patted Windblade’s shoulder plates, before her commlink blinked to life, “That must be Geomotus.”

“Do you need to take the call?” Windblade asked, losing her smile.

“Well, yeah. Geomotus only calls if it’s important.” 

“...Could you take it in here? With me?” She sounded like a wounded turbofox.

“Aw, hell. Okay, but just this once.” Chromia reached one hand to turn on her commlink, and the other reached out to rub Windblade’s wings compassionately. The previously tense wings relaxed, and Windblade leaned into her friend’s presence.

If Geomotus wouldn’t have heard the clanging of their bodies over the link, Chromia would have leaned back.

“ Marry, frag, kill.” Flamewar began, “Cyclonus, Froid, Megatron.”

Shadow Striker, Flamewar, Slipstream, and Strika all lazed in Flamewar’s quarters, each with a bottle of engex to their name, rather than one bottle with several cups.

“Marry Cyclonus.” Slipstream replied first.

“Good choice.” Flamewar smiled, and took another chug of her drink.

“Frag Megatron.” She continued, “Kill Froid.”

“Okay, listen to this one. M-F-K: Nautica, Starscream, Glyph.” Flamewar purposefully flashed her stylistically sharpened fangs.

“Marry Lugnut.” Strika said.

“Lugnut wasn’t an option.”

“He is now.” 

“Marry Glyph, Frag Nautica, Kill Starscream.” Slipstream sounded off.

A knock at the door, and Acid Storm popped his head in.

“Megatron wants all of us at Bumblebee’s funeral.”

“Okay, but first.” Flamewar stood, shambling, “F-M-K: Me, Strika, Shadow Striker, or Slipstream.

Acid Storm waved his hand and made a pffssh noise to indicate how ridiculously obvious his answer was.

“You should know this by now. Kill myself so I don’t have any of your damn dirty energon reserves near me.”

Silence, then uproarious laughter.

“No-heh-hehehee-No, but seriously, we need to go or he’s gonna kick our afts.”

It was several cycles before Rubble could recover, but by Primus himself that wouldn’t stop him from attending Bumblebee’s service. Ratchet and Froid both wheeled Rubble’s medical slab into the ceremony.

Rubble was not allowed to see the deceased, an act of mercy he couldn’t appreciate. He wanted to see Bumblebee before they said goodbye, to see his face one last time. But truth be told, Bumblebee hadn’t quite a lot of face left to look at.

Ratchet was solemn, standing vigil by the casket with many others. Orion Pax, Arcee, Windblade, Greenlight, Chromia, Prowl, Red Alert… and one final silver mech Rubble didn’t recognize.

“Froid, I think I’d like to leave.” Rubble murmured. 

“But of course.” Froid gently moved him into the hallway, only to find Gauge waiting there as well. 

“Young Gauge, would you like to come with us?” Froid stretched a hand to her, “We’re going back to the hospital.”

“Naw, Arcee told me to wait here.” Gauge sighed.

Before Froid could wheel him away, Rubble leaned forward, “Gauge? Are we friends?”

Gauge blinked, then grinned, “Of COURSE we’re friends, Rubble!”

Rubble smiled, and waved as Froid slowly pushed the slab further and further from Gauge.

While Chromia and Windblade scoffed and brushed off their interaction with Cyclonus, Geomotus paused. Something was odd. Cyclonus was moving his lips, barely more than a whisper, and turning his head subtly as if to turn to a source of a noise.

“Geomotus! Come on! Froid says he needs you back soon!” Chromia called back.

Geomotus stood for a moment, took a mental note, and transformed to roll along after Chromia and Windblade.

“I think he knows.” A voice behind Cyclonus commented, “Geomotus, I mean.”

“Doesn’t matter much, I’m afraid.” Cyclonus replied.

“Aw hell, would ya look at that! We have a new member of the band!” Highfire motioned towards the figure behind Cyclonus. Cyclonus did not turn.

“It doesn’t matter, Cyc. What’s one more of us?” Provoke whispered. Cyclonus did not turn.

“Ugly one too.” Highfire sneered.

“Hey!” The new voice sounded once more.

Cyclonus’ face was becoming more and more tense.

“You should be flattered such a war hero is here for you, Cyclonus.” Grudge said. 

“SHUT UP-“ Cyclonus whipped around only to meet eyes with a former ally, no, a former friend. Bumblebee.

“I have a favor to ask.” Bumblebee clasped his hands together, “I had a mentee, Rubble.”

“They only told me Brainstorm was killed. But you-“

“If you ever see him, at any time… Please just tell him I love him, and please tell him that…”

“It’s not your fault.” Windblade hugged Rubble, who was finally on his feet again.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Windblade forced a smile.

It wasn’t that she blamed Rubble for it. It was that he was a reminder of the sudden absence of her best friend. But Windblade felt that whatever turmoil it put her through, Rubble didn’t deserve to be treated differently because she was upset. Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug.

“Who was the gray guy at the funeral?” Rubble asked.

“Oh. That would be Senator Megatron.” Windblade replied, “In all honesty, I didn’t introduce you because I was worried you wouldn’t understand him. Megatron talks like he ate a dictionary then got energon poisoning.”

“I thought he gave speeches?”

“Oh, he does. They’re just really bad ones. There are ancient texts of an alien planet, and from what I’ve read, they were very good at electing morons to lead them. As much more advanced as Cybertronians are, sometimes an idiot or two slips through the cracks.”

“Does that make Orion Pax an idiot?” Rubble’s question was innocent and untouched.

“Oh, absolutely. Never trust a politician, Rubble. First lesson from Mentor Windblade.” She smiled.

“...Windblade?”

“Yes, Rubble?”

“I wish I could’ve told Bumblebee I loved him.”

The night sky was cold, barely any jets to mistake for shooting stars. For once, Windblade thought maybe the planet was mourning just like it’s children.

“Me too, sweetspark,” Windblade leaned down to catch Rubble’s embrace, “Me too.”

And just like that, an amazing new world full of possibilities was drenched with blood the moment it was presented to two young Cybertronians.

Everything is too complicated for the two mentees to fully grasp now, and those intricacies will inevitably be lost in the adults’ attempts to explain it in layman’s terms.

Boil it down enough, and now the tensions of Cybertron were presented to Rubble and Gauge in a simple, binary way.

It was their choice to make:

Red or Purple?

Chapter Text

“Windblade?”

Rubble stood in the doorframe of his mentor’s quarters, rubbing his arm sheepishly.

“I can’t sleep. I had a nightmare… Can I talk to you about it? I think it was about the attack that Bumblebee-” As he clicked the light on the wall and illuminated the room, Rubble paused.

The room was spacious enough to accommodate a jet mode easily, a work desk with datapads strewn carelessly, several framed swords from various points in her life, and Windblade’s very intricately patterned and decorated recharge slab. 

Rubble was the only one in the room.

“...Windblade?”

The Cybertronian night sky was always a sight to behold, especially on the outskirts of any given major city. The stars in the sky gleamed in any color imaginable, and any color un imaginable. Lights from jet alt modes streaked across the sky in every direction. 

And in the distance stood Iacon. Bumblebee’s birthplace, and Rubble’s too.

Bumblebee stood beside Cyclonus, staring at the lights in the distance. A city bustling with life, and yet only one spark among them that he wanted to reunite with.

Cyclonus wasn’t sure why he stayed there.

Pity, perhaps.

“You calmed down.” Highfire commented.

“Yes, you see, I was a little bit frantic after I-” Bumblebee whipped around to face the other spirit, “-WAS BEATEN TO DEATH.”

“How unique and important you are. Dying? Can’t imagine what that feels like.” Provoke waggled her finger around the missing parts of her face.

“Be quiet.” Cyclonus mumbled as he tried to walk away from Bumblebee.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Bumblebee pranced over and waved his hands, “Cyclonus, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not being quiet either.”

“Of course not. Why would you?” He growled, picking up what he was pretending was a very interesting rock.

“Might have something to do with the fact that nobody else can see me. Not Windblade, not Rubble, not Arcee, not-” Bumblebee paused and glanced up, “...Not him either.”

A strange, overcomplicated, and long aircraft hovered overhead. Lots of kibble, bits that didn’t fit, looking like an extinct bird that should stay extinct.

“ What is that .” Cyclonus sneered.

“That, uh, would be Froid. He changed his alt mode a while ago. Bad injury got his car mode all messed up, so he’s a helicopter now.” Bumblebee answered.

“Oh, okay.” Cyclonus produced a gun from nowhere.

“Yeah, it-What-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Bumblebee stammered, desperately shoving Cyclonus’ arms back down.

“I’m going to shoot him.”

“DON’T SHOOT HIM!”

Grudge leaned over, “No, actually, let him shoot Froid. It’ll be funny.”

“What’s he doing out here?” Provoke shielded her eyes from the sun looking up. It was nighttime.

Highfire motioned to a figure on the ground in the distance, “Following Geomotus.”

In an instant, Froid jerked and turned in Cyclonus’ direction, nearly crash landing into the dirt around them.

“Cyclonus! Long time no see!” Froid waved, barely landing on his weird foot-adjacent parts.

“No.”

“I didn’t ask a question yet- Well, your rudeness aside, I have a tiny bit of information I’d like from you.”

“OOOO-OOh~! He wants to talk about Paa-raaa~gon!” Highfire sang.

“I’m not talking about Paragon.”

Froid stared for a moment, “Who said anything about Paragon? No, dear friend…” Froid slung an arm across Cyclonus’ wing, “I have one simple question for you, just one tiny favor to ask.”

“What.” Cyclonus grimaced.

“Would you mind telling me, with your immense wisdom of this lovely planet’s geological patterns, what in the depths of the Pit is THAT ?” Froid’s tone gradually became frantic as he began to shout while pointing to something behind Cyclonus

Cyclonus turned.

Far in the distance, the orange and red glimmers of a massive explosion shot into the sky, raining debris and ash galore. 

On the wind, Cyclonus thought of people he knew who could be trapped in the blast.

And as he considered that scenario, he felt absolutely nothing.

“Rubble? It’s me, Chromia. There’s been an accident. Call Wheeljack.”

Chromia clicked her commlink off, and sat quietly beside Windblade’s lift support pods. Ratchet said she would be okay, but Chromia still let her head fall in shame. 

“I failed.” Was all she said.

Prowl lifted a hand, hesitated, and then let his hand touch her shoulder for a brief moment before retracting it.

“It’s... not your fault?” His attempt at comfort fell flat.

Chromia didn’t lift her head.

Rubble was, admittedly, playing with fire. Running down the street to Wheeljack’s lab, alone, in the middle of the night.

His brain raced.

What happened? 

What if Windblade doesn’t make it? 

...What if she doesn’t make it? 

Oh. Oh god. 

What if she-

And then Rubble tripped. He went crashing forwards, colliding with another bot. 

Rubble looked up. The dark paint explained why he hadn’t noticed him, or his dark blue companion. He fumbled internally for a second.

B..Buhh-BARRICADE! His name’s Barricade! And… Shhhhadow Striker?

“Shouldn’t be out and about by yourself, squirt.” Barricade reached out a hand, helping Rubble up, “Where’s your mentor?”

“Hospital. I called Wheeljack, he wanted me to meet him-” Rubble began.

“You’re Rubble, right?” Shadow Striker glanced towards him, “We were just talking about you. Here, c’mon, we’ll walk you down there.”

With the height difference, the two Ascenticons were several paces ahead of Rubble, making him jog to catch up. His eyes were transfixed on Shadow Striker’s massive blaster strapped to her back.

“What did Skytread say? ‘That kid could’a saved Bumblebee’? Something about strength in numbers?” Barricade pretended not to be aware of what he was saying around Rubble, “Real shame.”

Shadow Striker blinked, “ We have numbers. Ascenticons are many. Also, Skytread’s a moron.”

Barricade elbowed her with an intense side eye, and didn’t break eye contact until Shadow Striker whispered, “Oh.”

Rubble didn’t say anything.

The three continued on their journey through Iacon.

“So what is Megatron doing?” Rubble finally asked.

Barricade stopped in his tracks, almost causing Shadow Striker to slam straight into him as she failed to stop as well. She opened her mouth to curse at him, but remembered Rubble.

“Uh, Shadow Striker? Do you know what Megatron’s doing?” Barricade’s smug aura faltered.

“Nope.”

“You don’t know what your cause is? I thought Megatron hosted rallies to spread the word.” Rubble replied, somehow without a hint of sarcasm.

“No, we know. You ever heard Megatron give a speech? Soundwave told us to study Termagax’s books because she didn’t string along her vocabulary.” Shadow Striker huffed, “It sounds all nice, yes, but it’s nothing . Hot air in vocalized form. His speeches have nothing to do with it all. I wouldn’t be surprised if a majority of the public’s Ascenticon fanbase are just afraid of looking stupid because they don’t know what he’s saying.”

“Was that directed at me?” Barricade glared. 

She ignored him, “You know what prose is, Rubble? Yeah? Well, he’s not even making prose. He’s not talking, he’s just saying words. He’s a mascot. He doesn’t represent the true cause, he’s there to be infamous. Dripping with so-bad-it’s-funny charm.”

“That is disgusting. Never use that metaphor again.”

“What did you read from Ter… Uh. Term… Teram…” Rubble sputtered.

“Termagax? Kid, we’re no good with words. How about we introduce you to Soundwave after you’re done with Wheeljack? He can definitely put it all in layman’s terms!” Shadow Striker smiled at him.

“I second that.” Barricade picked back up his pace.

Rubble remained quiet for several minutes, following closely behind the two older ‘Cons. When it seemed as if they were losing awareness that Rubble was there, he reached out and papped Barricade’s arm to get his attention.

“...Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate company right now.” Rubble sheepishly spoke.

Barricade looked to Shadow Striker, and the two shared a brief smirk at each other.

Another one in the net.

Gauge hadn’t taken too long to find her newest hobby; peoplewatching.”

“Are you stuck in backpack mode?” A green bot teased to the bag slung across her shoulder.

“I am NOT . STUCK. IN BACKPACK MODE .” The bag protested loudly back.

Stuck sitting outside on a bench while Greenlight ran an errand in the xenobiology lab, Gauge was terribly bored even with the buzz of conversation floating all around her.

“A story about organics with silly names pursuing academic degrees at a university? Who in their right mind would read that?” A passerby said loudly to their commlink.

It felt like it had been hours.

“So I touched it, right? And I was totally fine! I TOLD you that organic “fruoot” doesn’t kill on contact!” Another emphasized to his partner beside him.

Finally, Greenlight emerged and sped to Gauge’s side.

“Sorry, sweetspark! Orion wanted everything I had on races that produce natural combustive materials.” Greenlight smiled, “You weren’t too bored out here, right?”

“Nope.” Gauge shook her head. 

Taking Gauge’s hand, Greenlight led her semi-mentee onto the sidewalk, let go to transform, and let Gauge climb inside to save her the walk.

“Hey Greenlight?” 

“Yes?

“What was the war like? Were you with the good guys?”

Greenlight hesitated, then laughed nervously, “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Well, Gauge… The thing about that is, there are no good guys in war.” Greenlight sighed, not in relief but in defeat, “Nothing in the universe is as simple as good and bad. Everything has a gray area, with very few things falling into one extreme or the other.”

Gauge listened intently, watching out Greenlight’s window.

“Everyone presents life as a series of binary choices. Good or bad. Black or white. This or that.” Greenlight continued, “But it’s never productive. Like biology, the possibilities are infinite.”

“...So are Autobots good?” Gauge asked.

“Autobots are one of the many factions on Cybertron and her colonies. There’s no sliding scale there. But, call me a hypocrite if you’d like…

I’d prefer you’d be an Autobot above anything else.”

The hull of Ascenticon headquarters echoed as footsteps slowly made it towards the entrance. Rubble had told Wheeljack he wanted to go pay respects to Bumblebee. Such a young bot like him had quite a budding talent for white lies.

Red eyes gleamed through the dark doorway, open just enough for the barrel of a blaster to fit through.

“State your business.” A smooth, deeper voice with an accent Rubble did not recognize spoke.

“Shadow Striker invited me. My name is-“

“Rubble! Thought that was you! Shads told me all about you!” A second pair of eyes, yellow and mischievous, came way below the red ones.

“You’re not allowed to call her that. She’s higher ranking, what she says goes.” A third voice, not attached to a peering gaze sounded.

The door slid open, revealing a massive, purple, looming ‘Con with those very same red eyes. Strika.

Another ‘Con stood beneath her, shorter, clearly a motorcycle of some sort, black and red with one snaggletooth fang that poked through her lips. Flamewar.

A medium height seeker walked to Strika’s side, entering Rubble’s view at last. Purple and a quite stunning seafoam paint job, and impressively painted lips. Slipstream.

“Shads told us you wanted to meet Soundwave!” Flamewar grabbed Rubble’s hand, shaking it a little too enthusiastically.

“Stop. People are going to think you’re sparkmates if you keep using pet names.” Slipstream sighed.

“Literally nobody would think that.” Flamewar protested, but Rubble caught a subtle sheen of pink across her face, “I meant Shadow Striker, obviously.”

“Come along, young one. Soundwave is waiting for you.” Strika’s voice was booming, though she tried to sound gentle.

The corridors were simplistic, hard to discern from one another. Simple silver, sometimes with smaller details to break the monotony. The ‘Con girls seemed to know where to go despite that. Rubble once again had a hard time keeping up because of his shorter legs. As they passed through the halls, Rubble barely noticed when Shadow Striker merged into their little group from leaning on a wall.

In a sparsely-equipped weapons room, Rubble came across a very tall and imposing figure with a glimmering yellow visor. Strika saluted, and stepped to the side. Flamewar threw up a peace sign. Shadow Striker slapped her hand down. Slipstream did not greet him at all.

“GREETINGS, RUBBLE OF IACON. MY DESIGNATION IS SOUNDWAVE.” The ‘Con buzzed with a particular lack of emotion.

“I’m Rubble!”

“I AM AWARE.”

“Oh.”

“APOLOGIES. THERE ARE NO SEATS LEFT IN HERE. SOMEONE THREW THEM AT A WALL. POOR TEMPER. THEY BROKE.”

Soundwave crouched slightly to properly meet Rubble’s eyes.

“YOU WANTED TO HEAR ABOUT THE ASCENTICON CAUSE. I CAN HELP YOU. DO NOT BE AFRAID, YOUNG ONE.

SOUNDWAVE WILL NOT HARM YOU. SOUNDWAVE WILL TELL YOU A STORY."

"Does it have a happy ending?" Rubble asks.

"THAT IS UP TO YOU, YOUNG ONE."

“He was supposed to be back by now.” 

Chromia paced in Windblade’s hospital room, now accompanied by Froid and Arcee. 

“Rubble’s a bright spark. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’m mostly sure. Don’t worry.” Froid was not helping.

“He’s Windblade’s mentee. I’m supposed to-If Wheeljack kept him late he would’ve-ARGH!” Chromia yelled.

As she gripped her helm in frustration, Froid reached out to her, preparing to say something that was most likely going to make her feel worse.

“Froid, can I ask you a favor?” Arcee said sweetly, drawing his gaze behind him.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Get your hands off Chromia or you won’t have any anymore.”

“...That’s not a favor.”

“So, you’re the good ones then?” Rubble asked, after a long lecture of Termagax’s ideas.

“MISCONCEPTION. WHEN YOU PRESENT TWO OPTIONS, THERE WILL ALWAYS BE BIAS INVOLVED. AUTOBOTS ARE NOTORIOUS FOR THAT.

ASCENTICONS ARE DEDICATED TO CONTINUING THE EXPANSIVE HISTORY OF CYBERTRON. AS WE EXPAND OUTWARDS, WE RISK THE INNER MECHANISMS FALLING APART. WE REINFORCE THOSE MECHANISMS, LAW, ORDER, STRUCTURE, SO ONE DAY OUR PLANET WILL BE STABLE ENOUGH TO REACH NEW LENGTHS.”

“That part sounds pretty simple.” Rubble mused, “I wasn’t sure about the Te...Tur… Tarm… The first Ascenticon part.”

“CORRECT. THE ASCENTICON CAUSE IS TO PRESERVE THE LONG STANDING STRUCTURES OF OUR SOCIETY AND TO BRIGHTEN THE FUTURE OF CYBERTRON. NEW COLONIES. NEW CITIES. NEW WORLDS TO EXPLORE. NEW CYBERTRONIANS TO MEET.”

In the hallway opposite, Flamewar nudged Shadow Striker.

“Ain’t he got a way with words?” She whispered.

“Shut up.” Shadow Striker whispered back.

“TO EXPAND THE CYBERTRONIAN RACE THROUGH THE STARS AND BEYOND.” Soundwave concluded, “INQUIRY. HAVE YOU ENJOYED WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD?”

“Yes! I do! I want to see the universe too!” Rubble’s eyes sparkled.

“Are we all in agreement, then?” Strika asked.

“Hell yeah!” Flamewar cheered.

“Yes.” Shadow Striker nodded.

“I’m all good with it.” Slipstream shrugged.

“AFFIRMATIVE.” Soundwave droned, “AND YOU, RUBBLE?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” He rocked on his feet excitedly.

“CONFIRMATION. THEN IT IS OFFICIAL. I WILL INFORM THE GUARD THAT YOU ARE NOW AUTHORIZED ON ASCENTICON PROPERTY.” Soundwave reached a hand out and patted Rubble’s head, “RUBBLE OF IACON…

WELCOME TO THE ASCENTICON MOVEMENT.”

“You had a busy day?” 

Gauge and Rubble were lounging on the roof of one of Iacon’s many personal apartment buildings. They stared at the sky together, in a moment free from any adult Cybertronian’s issues. 

“Yeah.” Rubble said, “It was… Well, I learned some history.”

“That’s cool. I watched a guy hit another guy with a third guy.” Gauge added.

A moment of silence fell. Gauge had expected Rubble to laugh, or do anything but sit, lost in thought.

“Anyways. Sky’s nice and red tonight, huh?” Gauge stared into the distance at the setting sun.

“Yeah.” Rubble agreed.

When he looked from where he sat on the roof, his view of the sky wasn’t quite the same as Gauge’s, as she lay on her back.

Rubble hadn’t seen a lot of sunsets in his life, but he was fairly certain of one thing.

The sky wasn’t as red as Gauge saw it.

In fact, Rubble thought it closer to purple.

But he didn’t say so.

Chapter Text

“Hey Windblade.

Ratchet doesn’t know when you’ll wake up, and I don’t know if you can hear me, but…

I’ve made some new friends! They’re all really cool, really… grown up. They’re gonna teach me self defense and stuff.

Maybe if I learn to fight, you wouldn’t have to protect me. I could protect myself.

You wouldn’t get hurt like this, and you most definitely wouldn’t have to, uh, you know… Have your spark go out for my sake.”

Rubble’s hand traced down the glass pod before him,

“Maybe I could protect you.

My new friends are calling. They want me to meet someone. 

I’ll be back tomorrow, Windblade.

Please hang in there. I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

This won’t happen again.”

Geomotus stood in his quarters, staring down his shapes. He knew for a fact someone had swapped his pyramid with his cube. They were in the opposite places they should have been; he always placed them in a particular order. Any change to this, and Geomotus felt steadily increasing discomfort until it was fixed.

“Ah, my good friend!” Froid’s sudden voice from behind him made Geomotus jump a bit, “You know when and where ships land on Cybertron, yes?”

“Did you move my pyramid?” He asked.

Froid ignored the question, “Geomotus, is it true Nautica has landed back on Cybertron?”

“She doesn’t like you.”

“Pardon?”

“Nautica doesn’t like you. Even if she did, she’s like me. We don’t register gestures as romantic. So, yes, she’s back, and no, don’t try anything.” Geomotus carefully fixed the positions of his shapes, checking for any chips or scuffs.

“And thus, I won’t. For a bot that can’t recognize affection, you do have crushes quite often, Geomotus.”

“I do not. Name three.”

“Cosmos, Wheeljack, Brainstorm.”

“...Name three more.”

“Landmine, Triggerhappy, Ratchet. I can go on if you insist.”

“That list is just some reasonably attractive bots who share an interest in the scientific fields. Nautica is Head of Xenorelations. That’s a big deal. She’s out of your league. On the other hand, I do know someone who finds you quite dashing.” Geomotus turned from organizing his shelves, “If you’d like to meet her, I-“

The room was empty; Froid long gone. 

Geomotus sighed.

Froid should’ve known the order was sphere, cube, pyramid; he thought to himself.

“Oi, what d’you think you’re doing, squirt?”

Rubble jumped as Skytread approached. Rubble didn’t know him well, but he knew he was a huge bully. He stood in the way, blocking Rubble from continuing down the HQ hallway.

“I’m taking Rubble, our littlest Ascenticon, to meet Megatron.” Slipstream stepped into Skytread’s field of vision, making him snap back.

“Y-yes, ma’am! Go right ahead!” He stuttered, leaving the way open for them.

They entered a massive room, that had quite a few overturned tables inside. Strika stood posted against the wall.

And there Megatron stood, like a silver obelisk standing proud of the tragedy it commemorated.  Rubble felt intimidated almost instantly. 

“Megatron, this is Rubble.” Slipstream bowed to him, “He is here to hear about our cause.”

“Young Rubble, welcome to the cause.” Megatron kneeled down to meet him, “We are working towards an inevitable new era of our great planet.”

Slipstream smiled and nodded. The smile was very forced. Strika did not have a visible mouth, and thus remained stoic.

“What kind of era?” Rubble asked.

“Cybertron was once great. It is among our many duties to restore it. And once our beautifully woven gossamer plans are in motion, there will be nothing but our fight, the one we have worked towards battling.” Megatron ‘explained’, “The world in their eyes is next to be undone. We will change their nature. The cracks beneath their feet will grow unbearable, and the true cause will stand victorious.”

Slipstream blinked and glanced to Strika. She mouthed a soft “what”, but Strika did not respond.

“We have a mission for him soon, Megatron.”  Strika turned to Megatron.

“Then further the cause, you shall. Flamewar is taking him on an inspection, yes? To ensure our victory, we must observe and learn.” 

Skytread was glancing in, grimacing slightly trying to unravel Megatron’s verbosity. 

“Dismissed, the three of you. Take your stride ahead, and only look back to think of what the future can be.”

Slipstream nodded, tilting her head slightly in confusion. She put a hand on Rubble’s back, leading him back out of the room.

“You look confused.” Rubble said.

“You have no idea. There’s a reason they took you to Soundwave first.”

Road Rage felt quite uneasy. Time again, Froid spun his excuses to speak privately with Nautica, time again, it left a lingering ache in her spark as Road Rage’s charge walked away with that… grotesquely gibbon-esque shrink. On that thought, she wondered for a moment what the fuck a ‘gibbon’ was, and how that comparison clambered into her mind at all.

What hope in all the flames of the pit of a chance did an experienced muscle have with that kind of woman? Smart, lustrous, successful… Road Rage couldn’t help but throw her head back in longing agony as she leaned outside, awaiting Nautica.

“Evening, space cadet.” Arcee’s voice made Road Rage flinch, having not noticed the warrior approaching, “Nautica in a meeting?”

“A meeting of sorts.” Road Rage nodded.

“That face.” 

“What about my face?”

“Lovesick. You look like Glyph, almost. You know, that vague yearning out-to-lunch stare.”

Road Rage blinked, then jolted to attention defensively, “Oh, I do NOT look like Glyph!”

“You know she hooked up with Tap-Out? Did you see them? She looks at him like she’s got five trains of thought all converging into a single heart shape.” Arcee smirked, spinning her finger to emphasize her own face, “That’s what you’re doing. You’re making a rival of the most hopeless romantic on Cybertron.”

“You’re being absurd, Arcee.” Road Rage shook her head, turning away.

“I thought I was absurd too. But now I have Greenlight.” Arcee smiled, a less mischievous and more genuine expression.

“...Not now.” Road Rage exhaled, “Not yet.”

“And remember what I told you, Rubble.”

“Flamewar’s an idiot.” Rubble said.

“And?”

“Don’t humor her.”

“Atta’boy.” Slipstream smiled softly.

Rubble hopped out of Ascenticon quarters side by side with Flamewar, waving off the rest of Team Stream. 

“Excited for your first routine inspection? We gotta check our wires up there.” Flamewar noogied Rubble to his protest, “And THIS time I won’t get clawed to slag by some ruggedly handsome war hero!”

“Is that what happened to your thigh?” Rubble pointed to the rough patching, “I thought Skytread said that Shadow Striker-”

“NO-Okay, first, screw Skytread, and second, he was thinking of my RIGHT thigh, not my left. And that wasn’t Shadow Striker. Unrelated. But it wasn’t her.”

Flamewar turned to bike mode, letting Rubble climb on so they could race off into the wilderness. 

Rubble hopped off as she stopped at a crevice, not very deep but filled with jagged rocks and old, collapsing buildings. Flamewar picked Rubble up, and slid herself down the side of the crevice. At the bottom, she placed him back down softly and carefully. 

"Now, we check these wires, right?" Flamewar smiled, holding one up, "Make sure they're not damaged or anything."

"What do these wires do?" Rubble asked, inspecting another of them.

“THERE! They’re the ones siphoning energon!” A voice suddenly shrieked, then a shot flew past Flamewar, grazing her shoulder.

She hissed in pain, grabbing Rubble and pulling him behind some jagged boulders.

From across the way inside the crevice, two bots shot at them. A slender, blue and light yellow cityspeaker; Lightbright. And beside her was a flaming red and orange warrior, significantly faster than her cohort; Novastar.

“Flamewar? I thought this was a routine inspection?” Rubble covered his head with his hands, crouching down behind the rock.

“It is, it is! Just, give me a moment, Rubble.” Flamewar tapped her helm, “I gotta think. I can do that, believe it or not.”

From the other side of the crevice, using a dilapidated old tower as cover, Lightbright peeked over to glance at the Ascenticons.

“Firestar? That blue one looks a little… young.” She shuddered for a moment, “We should give it up. I don’t like the idea of hurting someone that small.”

“Aim away from the little one. Just go for that bot with him, the one that looks like she just broke out of cuckooland.” Novastar hissed through clenched teeth, gripping her wounded shoulder, “And it’s Nova star now.”

Flamewar opened a chest panel, pulling out energon-powered ammunition pods, and hastily shoved them into her blaster.

“You know how to shoot a gun, Rubble?” She offered the blaster to him.

“No-Why would I know how to do that? I’m barely five megacycles old!” Rubble sputtered.

“You’re gonna need to know pretty soon. You said you wanted to help fight for what’s right?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Then watch closely. The name ain’t Flamewar for nothing.”

With that, Flamewar hopped the rocks she was using for cover, sprinting forward. Her feet skidded left and right seemingly at random, skillfully dodging incoming shots from Novastar and Lightbright. A shot was fired, she jerked unnaturally to avoid it, rinse, repeat. She seemed like a marionette, jerking and zigzagging across the battlefield. Flamewar moved like a con possessed, but hell if it wasn’t working .

In a flash, Lightbright lost sight of her.

“Where’d Nutcase go?” Novastar whipped her head away from watching past their cover to face Lightbright.

“I didn’t see her-I don’t know! Does it look like I know?” Lightbright dropped her watch to meet Novastar’s glare.

Only the soft crunch of a pebble under a wheel tipped the two off, and the familiar, undeniable sound of a transformation as Flamewar sped towards them from behind, shifting to speed on the wheels in her feet.

“Get FLAMED, losers!” 

Flamewar made a strange choking sound at Lightbright and Novastar. In a split second, her jaw opened, unhinging and lowering like a sparkeater ready to feast.

A click sounded, and from her mouth came a fiery, explosive blast towards the enemy bots. The boisterous attack had little effect on Novastar, but sent Lightbright flying across the field, bouncing and hitting the ground, skidding to a halt in front of Rubble’s eyes. 

Lightbright’s eyes flickered yellow. She was barely conscious. Rubble felt a little bit sick.

“NO!” Novastar cried, reaching to hop and run to Lightbright’s side, only to get shot straight in the nape of her neck by Flamewar.

Novastar collapsed as well, not so much leaking energon as she was spurting it from severed fuel lines. It came in waves. A trickle, and then the pump of energon that was meant to reach her brain, then a trickle. The stench of inner energon reached Rubble even from the distance between them. An all too familiar stench.

Flamewar exhaled some smoke, reconfiguring her lower jaw to fit back perfectly on her sleek, pretty face. She casually walked back over to Rubble.

“Told you. I earned this name, baby!” She flashed her fangs, making a ‘rock on’ symbol with her hand. 

“Is… Are they?” Rubble stared up at her with wide eyes.

“That one’s probably fine.” Flamewar motioned to Lightbright’s knocked out form, “The other one? Well… We don’t need to worry about that. Now let’s bounce. Her titan’s gonna feel that she’s out cold any moment now and we do not need Lodestar on us.”

She transformed, and leaned over for Rubble to climb on her. As they sped away, Rubble gripped her like he was clinging to his own dear life. Flamewar sighed, and partially untransformed to stick her arm out.

The moment Rubble saw her hand exposed, he grabbed it and squeezed. She squeezed back.

And off they went, hand in hand.

Gauge peeked around a doorway to look at her mentors.

Greenlight had her head in her hands, with Arcee rubbing her back. They whispered to each other, too far away for Gauge to hear.

Finally, Arcee spoke louder, “We’ll get her badge tomorrow. Orion has everything prepared.”

“Chromia doesn’t know anything yet. It could’ve been-”

“You know it was an Ascenticon. We need to get Gauge her badge. There’s no choice anymore.”

“...Do you remember what I said? About off-world shuttles?” Greenlight turned to face Arcee, still not seeing her mentee.

“Not now, Greenlight.” Arcee sighed, “Not yet.”

Sentinel’s office.

Ratchet approached the golden throne, reading an old diagnostic reading in one hand, the other behind his back, fidgeting. Chromia to his right, First Aid to his left.

“No dancing around this time, Ratchet. Tell me.” Sentinel growled.

Ratchet only just barely made his gaze.

“Who’s dead this time.” 

First Aid shot a nervous glance to Chromia, who did not return it.

“...Novastar passed away on the outskirts. Grievous bodily harm. Severed fuel lines.” Ratchet lowered his head.

“They did everything they could-” Chromia began.

“Who.”

“Sentinel, please-” First Aid threw his hands up.

“WHO DID THIS.” He slammed his hands down on his chair.

“Lightbright is being treated right now. She was found offline nearby.” Chromia stepped forward, “When she’s awake, we’ll ask her.”

“Ascenticons.”

“Sorry?” Ratchet flinched.

“I want you to put a warrant out on every identified Ascenticon you can.” Sentinel stepped down, stomping on purpose to emphasize his presence.

“Uh, will do.” Chromia nodded.

“And I don’t want any exceptions. Stop for no one .” He got very close, fiery eyes burning holes into Chromia, who nodded again. 

Sentinel waved his hand to dismiss the three, and Chromia and First Aid were the first to get the hell away from him. Ratchet stood back a second.

“...I’m so sorry.” Ratchet placed a hand on Sentinel’s shoulder kibble, “I know. Novastar was the last person you wanted to lose. That you’d rather die than let any of Lodestar’s crew go.”

Sentinel lowered his head.

Neither of the mechs said anything further.