Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the beginning, very few things existed. Time existed, yes, but since no one was around to witness its passage, it held no meaning, and therefore might as well not have existed at all. Maybe, by that notion, it did not exist yet. I could not say for certain.

At some point in time, whether time existed or not, there began to exist two beings, in and of themselves representations of what was to come much later. They would name themselves Primus - one who saw all the good which existed in the universe, and strove to see it flourish and at some point unify, despite its inherent flawedness - and Unicron - one who saw naught except flaws in all that existed, who recognized the futility of living in that it would all inevitably end, resenting this inevitability and finding his individuality in that resentment. They were both powerful mechanical colossi, able to roam as living planets when not locked in relentless combat.

Their combat was borne of the instinctual clash of their ideals, and how they saw fit to execute their goals. Primus strove to preserve life and in doing so angered Unicron, who wished to end it; Unicron would sow chaos and in doing so upset Primus, who strove toward unity. They could have gone on forever, evenly matched in every way, leaving an immesurably vast celestial graveyard in the wake of their infinite clash, ending only when the heat-death of the universe which Unicron foresaw consumed them both.

Primus was the first to recognize this, and developed a plan: he would withdraw himself from the conflict - when this would occur, Unicron would find himself victorious, would let his guard down as he rampaged unchecked - and create beings who would strike down Unicron for him. There would have to be multiple of them, and they would each require their own strengths; physical strength would be of import, yes, but so too would be cleverness, if they were to outwit such a force of nature.

Therefore, once he’d decided upon the characteristics of his creations, granting them all the surname-title Prime, he transformed to his planetary mode and began his work, making sure they would have sufficient knowledge of their intended purpose.

There was but one flaw in Primus’s divine plan: he had not accounted for what might be done after Unicron’s expulsion.

Of course, seeing as he was already in stasis, this was no longer his issue to resolve.

The origin which all Primes share, however, does not belong to me. I began very differently, and with no intended purpose at all.

All recorded history regarding the two gods follows the point of view of the Primes’ descendants, and therefore possesses many accuracies about Primus and many assumptions about Unicron. I, too, am prone to making assumptions of both of them, but at the same time I do possess a greater knowledge of Unicron than most, and make it clear when I presume. As such, anything I know regarding the Primes’ origins is very much second-hand knowledge, provided to me by the Primes who themselves were somewhat unsure of their beginnings. That which I know of Unicron, however, was divined directly from his processor, albeit in a way that felt dissociated, almost ethereal, and many details of those memories have been lost to me.

I believe, at some point, fragments of pity began to surface within Unicron, and some regrets, though I know not what it was he regretted. Perhaps he found some of what the universe held to be endearing, and saw it destroyed regardless, though I cannot at all say for certain. What I do know is that he saw these feelings as weakness, being at odds with the resentment from which he drew his identity, and began what many beings nowadays would regard as compartmentalizing. He separated himself from emotions and experiences which conflicted with his sense of self; any pity, regret, or otherwise sorrowful emotions were forced aside whenever they arose, kept separate from the rest of him.

It was at some point that these emotions ceased to arise altogether (or if they did, it was so subtle as to garner no attention or further attendance), which very much allowed him to keep what had manifested put away, as it were, until they separated entirely from the whole that was Unicron.

Like Primus, there were such factors he had not accounted for… such as those dissociated emotions taking up a consciousness of their own.

This is where Unicron’s perceptions end, and mine begin. This is how I came to be.

Chapter Text

If I am dead, I thought, then existence post-mortem is not what I anticipated.

This was a bit of a paradoxical statement. It was a lie to assert I was in anticipation, as I had expected nothing, yet what I was experiencing now could very much be described as nothingness.

There was a total absence of physical sensation. My limbs were unresponsive when I willed them to move, and provided no tactile input at all. I knew neither of the condition of my frame - assuming I was still within my frame, and not separated from it en route to some sort of afterspark - nor the aspects of my environment. I could not be certain, even, of whether I was prone or in some other position, or on which side of my body I lay, if I were even on solid ground.

My optics provided no imagery, not even internal notifications. I did not need them to be certain that, in the event I somehow remained alive, I operated on the most minimal power required, on the final remnants of reserves I did not accrue beforehand.

Still, I persisted.

How? Why?

As if within a haze, or at a distance, I heard someone speak. Though I could make out no words - it was predominantly static, the fluctuations of tone and repeated pausings being the only indication it was some form of speech - I could tell I was not the one being spoken to.

From this I deduced that I was not, therefore, in space - the silence in such a vacuum is crushing, it bears down on one’s very sanity at times - and certainly if there were someone speaking inside my head, through my processor or otherwise, it would likely be distinctly clearer. It would cut out repeatedly, rather than be so static-laden as to be unintelligible.

(The fact I heard no voices within my head was a definite upside, whether or not I was dead.)

If I weren’t in space, where was I? Certainly not on Cybertron- wait, why not Cybertron? That I am someplace else seems definite in my processor, but my memories were largely inaccessible. It might have taken more energy than I possessed to recover them, but subconscious notions still persisted in their absence - such as, I was not on Cybertron.

If that were true, where am I, then?

Another voice spoke. Though it remained just as indecipherably static-laden as the first, it was definitely a different, deeper voice, one which seemed far more familiar. Again, without access to my memories, I could not pinpoint from where I knew that voice, but curiosity still burned at the back of my consciousness. As soon as I was able, I intended to learn the owner of that voice, and from where I knew them previously.

My hearing, then, descended into a fog of static before cutting out entirely. Once again, I was cut off from the physical world… and yet, this was not the most horrible fate I could have imagined for myself. I possessed the distinct notion that I had endured worse before.

Being so low on resources, it was unsurprising that a return to stasis beckoned swiftly after I was isolated to my thoughts alone. Having no access to my past, all I could do in my current position was run my processor in pointless circles, which seemed counter-productive if I wanted to stay alive. I was deeply concerned with how oddly disappointed I seemed, when I lingered too long on the notion that I yet lived.

To waste further energy thinking too hard would not help me. I allowed myself to slip back into stasis, and was too irresolute to hope for either survival or oblivion in my last conscious moments.

Chapter Text

When my life began, there was no color, no sound. I did not marvel at the wonders of existence for they were not presented to me as they are to all other life-forms. I awoke within Unicron's spark chamber, unable to see or hear, knowing no sensation save for the notion of existing, and felt a great sorrow that did not belong to me.

What is this? I thought, lost and frightened. What is this, please?

At once, I was surrounded by an insurmountable surge of hatred and disgust, and as of yet without means to distract myself with sound or visuals, I was swept away within this maelstrom of rage. I could not discern its origin, but through its presence and severity I was led to believe I might not be the only thing that existed - or was this the very energy of the universe lashing out at me? I had only existed for a few moments, as far as I knew; what had I done to deserve this ire, or was I despised simply for existing at all?

I don’t understand! I tried to reach out. Have I done something wrong? Please, I just want to understand!

BRAZEN PARASITE, answered the universe, YOUR VERY EXISTENCE IS A SLIGHT AGAINST ME, AND SO YOU SHALL SUFFER!

I screamed, terrified - and I distinctly remember hearing myself scream, hearing it echo, though it all sounded muffled and far away - and was compelled to make amends, fervently and repeatedly apologizing. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t understand, what can I do, how can I fix this, I’m sorry!

With each apology, that rage only seemed to swell, coalescing into an immense emotional turmoil, verging into a concentrated physical sensation, and my screaming suddenly amplified. Though that anger was an ever-present sensation still, the intensity waned slightly as my senses came crashing down upon me all at once. My vocalizer went silent, save for frightened gasping.

My optics came online.

When my panic subsided (though it never entirely went away), I realized I was in some sort of container - a large metal chamber of sorts, dimly illuminated in vivid purple. Equilibrium controls, when I realized I had them, indicated I was looking up at the ceiling, laying on my back. Pain sensors indicated soreness and discomfort from both my back and apparent yet unseen extremities attached somewhere near my shoulder blades. Were I at all able, I would have sat up to alleviate the unpleasantness, but the anticipation of such action made me uneasy, and I could barely feel my limbs besides.

I could, however, turn my head, so I did. Extending from my shoulder was a limb which bent in the middle, the furthest portion covered in a multitude of sharp points, ending with what I deduced was my hand. I counted five digits, and experimentally tried to move them, which I found I could, albeit weakly. I turned to the other side and saw another limb, an exact mirror of the other, and again I tried moving the digits on that hand.

When I paid attention again to my surroundings, however, to this side of me the chamber extended further, and at its center was a great ball of violet light. Though the chamber itself was dimly lit, the source of this light was itself nearly blinding. I raised my arm up to shield my optics, and it took me a moment to realize I had actually raised my arm, and therefore I likely had control over these limbs I'd observed.

Maneuvering both arms, I sat up, and I had to give my equilibrium a moment to adjust, because though I did not sit up quickly I had been far too hasty for someone who had only just been introduced to the realm of physical sensation. Once the disorientation faded, I noticed I had two other limbs - legs, which seemed a fair bit longer and stronger than my arms. I twisted them a bit, moving my pedes as if I were a sparkling (and though I was by no means sparkling-sized, the notion I was new to the universe is not at all far from the truth).

Though I could not see them, I knew from earlier sensation that two other extremities existed on my back, and from how they dragged across the floor I deduced they were at the very least much longer than my arms. I felt them move gently through the still air of the chamber, and felt the stiffness of the freshly-liberated joints in tandem with the residual prickling discomfort from my back. I reached behind myself with an arm to see if I could manage to touch, and when I grasped these unseen appendages I realized they were much thinner and to some degree more fragile than any of my other limbs, not unlike a set of very long digits. I wondered what they were for, and what they might look like if I could see them.

Amongst my wonder at being alive, still the anger pushed inward upon me, making the air itself seem heavy and thick, and the inexplicable sorrow, the first sensation I’d known before all else, cinched around my life force - was my life force (the term anti-spark would not be added to my vocabulary until much later) - and seemed to amplify the longer I was exposed to that cloying anger. I felt I was absorbing that rage, that hatred, to some degree, and converting it into the sadness which made up my existence, fueling me beyond a need for external sustenance. Such is the notion I would use, even into the future, to explain the first of my supernatural abilities I’d discovered.

This continued for an indeterminate length of time (though, for the record, it felt like eons). The constant dim lighting made it impossible to deduce day or night cycles, and though I did not recharge often I did so irregularly, due to more than the lack of circadian indicators alone. I would continue to experiment with my strange form - sitting up, crawling about, teaching myself to walk, sometimes daring to speak words aloud instead of just thinking them - and the hatred and disgust would eclipse any wonder or sense of accomplishment I managed to produce. I was not alone, yet I was terribly lonely. I knew no hunger, no injury, yet I knew many other manners of pain. I was always sad, apologetic, confused as to what I did to deserve such spite, and such an unfortunate existence.

I only truly understood two things: I existed, and I was hated. To say I was miserable is an almost insulting understatement, and for the earliest periods of my functioning, it was all which I knew.

Chapter Text

When next I awoke, it was very much with a start.

By some means, I’d received a jolt of energy, allowing me control over my frame once again. It was not without consequence, however; I felt very much light-headed upon sitting bolt-upright; I could see nothing past my optics, my HUD overrun with various warnings. Metal stores critical, self-repair functions offline, auxiliary energy stores critical, corrosion detected at multiple sites. This would explain why I had only been barely conscious prior, but did not explain why I was conscious now.

I did not, however, care about any of this for the moment. If I wanted to remain functioning - and if I wanted to rid myself of the pains of starvation - I needed copious refueling, and I needed it now.

Blinded by notifications, I scrabbled for purchase upon any manageable surface, searching for any source of nonliving metal. I would very much have been unable to find said sources, were I not in possession of a specialized olfactory suite. From what I could discern, I was sitting on a very solid source of what was largely steel, with various other metals and metalloids included - not my preferred blend, but it would have to do.

In being adrenalized from the frightful endeavor of regaining my mobility, combined with my preternatural strength, I very easily tore apart the surface beneath me, shoveling the scraps into my intake as quickly as I could loose them, and after several rounds felt the pangs of hunger begin to ebb. Slowing my pace, I sorted through the various notifications which obscured my vision - some of them had changed color, indicating the alluded severity had lightened somewhat, but none had disappeared - and found myself in a rather odd enclosed space.

For my size, the ceiling was rather low, but I had enough experience in being much larger than anyone else to know this enclosure had been constructed not for recovery, but examination, confirmed by what appeared to be various medical sensors at the side of the surface I’d torn apart - a medical berth, evidently. Some cables which bound me to the sensory equipment still remained attached, but I had disconnected the majority during my frantic scramble moments ago, those monitors producing various flat tones to indicate a loss of input.

The area was dimly lit, but I have excellent night vision. I could see how it stretched on further, different surfaces and implements present within the very large room. Around the berth were what appeared to be miniature scaffolds, which I reasoned may have been for minibots or other miniature beings to use. There were electric light sources, some of which appeared maneuverable, but they were largely inactive, likely due to my presence going unaccounted for (which was not at all unreasonable, I thought, considering I had been nearly dead).

It all seemed very clinical, industrial, and in many ways unlike anything Cybertronian. What was this strange place?

Still shoveling metals into my intake from the partially-destroyed medical berth, I sensed a presence within the room; I was not as alone as I’d assumed. What emotions I detected were largely those of shock and fear, emanating from somewhere around my lower leg - I’d sat up in order to dismantle the berth without falling to the floor, and to better take note of my surroundings.

When I looked over, and downwards, I saw a very small and terrified Cybertronian. He (I assumed at the time, and clarified later) seemed to be specialized for aerial flight, being of a remarkably light build with large, flat wings at his back meant for slicing through atmospheres. He also had very distinct red optics, which were fixed upon me in a look of abject horror.

“Oh,” I said intelligently, through an intake-full of steel.

He shrieked, then, and what a raucous sound it was, echoing off the metal walls! I clutched my audials - for they were still rather sensitive, having only just been reactivated - and watched as he turned and ran.

“Wait!” I shouted after him. “Come back!”

Throwing down what metal shards I still held, I gave chase, unwilling to let go of the opportunity to seek answers or, at the very least, some company. Being that I was far larger than him, I caught him easily, and when I held him in one hand he was even lighter than I’d anticipated. I had to take care and ease my grip, lest I snap him in two.

He clawed at my digits at first, and when he realized I was not so easily damaged he began to cower. “Let me go!” he screamed, terrified. “Spare me, please!”

“I do not intend to harm you!” I exclaimed. “I require of you answers only, and until I receive them, or you can affirm you will not flee again, I cannot let you go!” Well, I could have, but I certainly did not want to.

“How do I know you won’t just eat me after I answer your questions?!”

A fair inquiry. I evened my voice, quieting myself so as to attempt reassurance. “I made a vow long ago that, even at the risk of starvation, I would bring no harm to any metal that lives. I swear on my life-force,” for I was not comfortable sharing I had an anti-spark around a stranger, “I will not bring you harm.”

He seemed to calm minutely, at this, though I could tell he was still incredibly wary of me. This was no insult to me; I was well aware of my monstrousness.

“Very well,” he spoke, feigning annoyance so as to mask his stress. “Ask what you will, then let me be.”

I thought very carefully about what I should ask first, but settled upon what piqued my curiosity most at the time.

“What do you call yourself?”

“I- what?”

“I realized it would be very rude of me to continue without knowing who it is I am speaking with.” It was also rude that I was holding him somewhat captive, but that was beside the point. “For example, I am Eda… of Luna-1,” I lied, “and I am called he. What do you call yourself?”

He regarded me for a long moment, crossing his arms, before deigning to answer.

“Starscream of Vos,” he answered curtly, “and I am called he as well.”

Excellent! “To my memory, I have not known many who share your place of origin,” I replied honestly. “It is fortuitous that I should make your acquaintance, Starscream of Vos.”

I sensed a change in his demeanor, then, at receiving gratitude where he expected hostility.

“It is fortuitous,” he claimed with newfound confidence, “that I found this place at all, and provided the means for you to live again when you were on the brink of termination.”

“So, it is by your power, then, that I yet survive?”

“Most certainly! I provided unto you, Eda of Luna-1, the crucial portion of dark energon which provided your, ah, unorthodox systems with a much-needed jumpstart.”

That brought to a close my prior confusion: it was because of this Starscream of Vos that I was not destined for oblivion. I was torn between singing his praises and throwing him across the room… though I had done very little reflecting upon why I still felt so ungrateful.

I compromised, and said simply, “Alright.”

He seemed very offended by this.

“‘Alright’? I saved your spark, practically resurrected you, and the best response you have is ‘alright’?!”

I scoffed. “Forgive me for being unable to process your claims to what timeliness you deem fittest! Are all modern Cybertronians so petulant?”

"How dare you! I-" He began, but in a brief moment he was given pause. "...modern Cybertronians, you said?"

"Yes, modern. I -"

My retort was interrupted when I sensed yet more EM signatures approaching the compound in which we resided - three of them, though at first pass I felt only two. Whoever they were, they moved remarkably quickly, likely spurred by their collective stress.

"Did you invite others?"

Starscream became very confused, then, until flares of suspicion began to arise. "No… why?"

Some sort of alarm klaxon began blaring, producing a far greater cacophony in the metallic echo. Though my audials had adjusted somewhat, I still winced at the bombardment of noise.

"What in the Void is that?!"

Starscream's suspicions, however, seemed to be confirmed.

"Our cue to leave."

Chapter Text

None of the innumerable cycles I spent within Unicron were particularly noteworthy, with the exception of my last.

Epochs after my independent existence had begun, Unicron's attention towards me had suddenly and mysteriously begun to falter at some point, pulled in an unknown direction. At first, I did not entirely care what it was that distracted him, grateful to be relieved of the burden of torment if only for a moment… but I soon began to wonder what it was that distracted him so, when the situation persisted.

A touch against the wall of his spark-chamber made me privy to odd vibrations I'd never detected before, anomalous interruptions which were inconsistent in their occurrence and vibrational patterns. It was as if several sources were clamoring within his armor, and I had no idea of anything which could create such disruptions. Pressing my audial against the wall, I heard many muffled sounds above the odd rumble-roar of Unicron's sparkbeat - sounds of things being broken and torn apart, and with each sound Unicron's rage blew ever outwards, targeting his mystery assailant… or assailants, plural.

The sole chamber opening, directly across from my own position, an exit route which Unicron had always purposefully kept closed to me, began unexpectedly spiraling open its many layers. I had not touched it at all - something was seeking entrance from outside, and very suddenly I was gripped with the fear of being maimed as I assumed Unicron was currently. I froze, unmoving, hoping whoever or whatever it was did not take notice of me behind Unicron's anti-spark and its neural mechanisms.

It uttered a short string of rounded, unintelligible syllables, before exposing the light held within itself, smaller in size but just as bright as Unicron's anti-spark, and for whatever strange reason I found myself exceptionally light-headed and somewhat nauseous.

There was an overbright flash, then…

I believe I'd only lost consciousness for a moment or two, before awakening from where I'd collapsed to a now dark and empty chamber - empty, that is, save for myself and the stranger across the room, who had also collapsed. Unicron's emotional field had gone completely dark, and his anti-spark seemed to have disappeared. His assailant's own mysterious light had dimmed significantly, yet still persisted, I noticed. Who was this?

Slowly, I got up, and made my way over to the mystery intruder - though intruder might sound strongly negative, as I had no idea of the purpose of his actions, I admit I did owe him immense gratitude, for through his efforts neither I nor anyone else would be harmed by Unicron again… or so I believed.

He (I assumed first and would clarify later) was so much smaller than I; if we both stood at full height, I doubt he would even come up to my waist. Despite his size, he seemed very solidly built, with translucent core armor which allowed the light from his spark to glow through. It would likely have been brighter, were he conscious - and I think it was brighter earlier, before Unicron's anti-spark had disappeared.

In unconsciousness, perhaps even near-death, he looked very serene, at peace. I wondered what that would feel like.

I heard a clamor from the opposing end of the spark-chamber entrance, and before I could hide again, two more mystery invaders emerged, though they looked drastically different from both their presumed comrade and each other. One was about his height, but colored in deep shades of dark green, with two horns protruding from his helm; the other was roughly my height - though I was still taller - with a palette of red and gray, and appeared to possess enough functional and cosmetic kibble to suit five bots of his companion's size.

They both startled and shouted upon seeing me, and I did the same upon seeing them, falling backwards from my crouched position. Their fields changed from immense shock to confused hostility, and when they drew weapons I screamed again, cowering behind my raised arms.

"Please, don't hurt me!" I implored. "I mean you no harm; I do not know what's going on!"

At my behavior, their hostility seemed to soften… or was it their fields that felt weakened? Peeking through my arms, I now noted not only their shared air of exhaustion, but also their injuries, the smaller one leaking much more of that odd blue fluid than either of the other two. They both glanced at their friend on the ground, then back up at me, then to each other, and began to converse among themselves.

I did not understand their words in the slightest - they spoke a different language than that of Unicron (and, presumably, Primus) - but I could tell they were reasoning with each other about what they might do next. A few sideways glances were cast my way as they spoke. That, I suppose, was the crux of their conversation: what were they going to do about me? Still, I dared not interrupt, lowering my arms slowly as fear gave way to curiosity.

The large one - I would learn names much later, but I remember him as Nexus Prime - seemed to come to a conclusion, gesturing to their third, and though the smaller one - Liege Maximo - did not entirely agree, I doubt he was well enough to put up a fight. Nexus picked up the one on the ground to whom he’d gestured to - Optimus Prime - and slung him over a shoulder, then said something to me.

"I don't understand," I answered honestly.

He seemed to consider me for a moment, before drawing his unoccupied arm and palm upwards and towards himself, in a continuous motion. Somehow I gathered this was the signal for follow.

“Oh!” I stood slowly, so as not to spook either of them. “Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed in disbelief, and though I doubt they understood what I said, I knew they gathered my meaning. I was relieved that I had not been injured, and was overwhelmed by the prospect of leaving for the first time in my life.

The three of them made for the exit, and I trailed behind, speculating in my gratitude about what wonderful, unfathomable things might exist beyond Unicron, in the wide universe beyond this now silenced threshold of misery.

Chapter Text

Outside the strange complex, it was a vastly different environment than within; the air was distinctly warmer, and the sand seemed to stretch onwards to eternity, interrupted only by strange rock formations. It held very little familiarity to me, and though I had not yet visited any other areas on this planet, I concluded that it was a new planet to me, that I had never visited before.

My and Starscream's escape from the decidedly medical facility was not exactly harrowing, but definitely issued some sense of stress in that I was navigating unfamiliar surroundings, starving and half-corroded, at the behest of someone I did not entirely trust, pushing onward mostly by virtue of my bleary processor imagining what horrible punishments might befall us both, were we caught. After our escape we had still been pursued for some time, but my longer limbs provided greater strides, and many of the local buttes were large enough to shield me from sight, with Starscream perched on my shoulder pauldron.

Though they were some distance out, I sensed when our pursuers became resigned, supposedly giving up the chase, and after a brief flash of green light they seemed to disappear entirely. Starscream assured me that this meant we were safe from harm, and began directing me to an unknown destination, the only details he provided being that it was someplace I could 'regain my strength'.

Trudging ever onwards, I fed upon metal remnants from our escape - many of the passages we utilized were guarded by remarkably flimsy metal doors, and though the metal was not entirely nutritious it was better than nothing, and I am not one to waste food. My snacking brought my traveling companion some unease, but such was a reaction I'd long since become accustomed to.

Memories returned very slowly. In my state I still could not access the full extent of my memory banks, but fragments had made themselves evident, giving me the sense that I had been alive - or, at the least, I'd existed - for an exceptionally long time. In stasis, my chronometer had lost track of exactly how long that was, but I supposed I would find out at some point.

Eventually, we came across what appeared to be Starscream's intended destination: a relatively meager scrapyard, lit in part by miniature floodlights, piled high with metal fragments and hollowed-out groundframes.

"I also do not indulge in the desecration of corpses, good sir," I informed him.

His field flared in wry amusement. "Fear not, dear colossus - nothing you will find here was ever alive to begin with."

Though I did not entirely trust him, I was so very hungry. Carefully clearing an area so I could sit, I took from a pile of those damaged, hollow frames, and reluctantly sampled from an edge. Starscream was right; not only had this frame never housed a spark, but it was in no way of Cybertronian construction.

As my hesitancy gave way to ravenousness, Starscream elected to dismount my shoulder and climb down my torso, sitting instead upon some miniature insulative container.

When half the groundframe-stack was gone, I saw fit to slow down, newfound clarity of processor allowing for the development of numerous questions. I did not believe Starscream could provide all the answers I sought, so I asked only what I deemed most prudent.

"Where are we?"

I could sense a tinge of irritation, likely in anticipation of my further inquiry. "The natives call this planet Earth."

"So this planet hosts its own lifeforms," and though I did not phrase it as a question I was nonetheless curious.

"Yes - organic lifeforms," he noted with a touch of revulsion. "The humans are the most annoying ones, I'll warn you now."

"Humans?"

"This planet's only intelligent life, if you can call it that. They are simple creatures, very squishy and fragile, with short lifespans and small minds, and getting the attention of one risks the attention of many. I would advise avoiding them whenever possible."

"You speak with the burden of experience. They have aggrieved you before?"

"Among other slights, they are the reason I am bereft of a t-cog!" He spoke with the sting of bereft loss in his field. This was likely a recent injustice.

"Oh, dear!" I exclaimed, my distress genuine. Though it’d never happened to me, I could determine on my own that having one’s organs pilfered was an extremely unpleasant experience.

His demeanor changed immediately, then, from all things genuine to near-instinctual opportunism. "I could never wish such a horrible fate upon anyone else, I simply had to save you before the humans took your t-cog as well!"

I pondered this change for a moment. "I… are you sure that is what happened?"

His confidence wavered before he doubled his resolve. "You would doubt my actions - you, who has never even seen a human before - when I risked my spark to rescue you? Maybe I should have left you to be scrapped!"

I provided a thoughtful hum, and took another few bites from the car I'd paused in eating. Noxious plumes of soot - byproducts of the impurities in the metals I'd eaten - began to discharge from the massive primary vents in my chest and lower back. The longer my silence stood, the more I could feel his resolve falter, and when I glanced at him from my periphery I felt it completely fracture.

"You may be an experienced and rather talented manipulator, Starscream of Vos," I remarked, "but no creature of Cybertron can lie to me. You are trying to trap me in your debt by circumstance, and I must request you desist. I will aid you, if you inform me of your situation, but not if you try to make me your servant.”

His wings fell, and he paused, calculating his next move. All conversations, I suppose, require some grade of calculation, but he was very invested in making sure the outcome was in his favor. I supposed he had made such careful, dishonest negotiations before, and likely would do so again. Not with me, hopefully, but that could be attended to when it happened.

“The truth requires a lot of explanation,” he said at last, and in sensing his preemptive exhaustion I did believe he was being honest.

“We have time,” I assured him. “I have nowhere to be, aside from here with you, and I very much would like to know what has transpired in my absence.”

Starscream took on a very thoughtful look - determining, I presume, where to begin. “Well, what is the last thing you remember, before coming here?”

A wise question; in my recovery, I still did not remember everything - there were emotions, there were always emotions, but visuals took up the most energy, and so they were few and far between as of yet. Having finished my meal, I put my hands to my temples in order to better concentrate.

“...I was on Cybertron, I think. There was something else there, too - something cruel, with… five faces.”

That memory was laced with heavy, suffocating grief, but Starcream did not need to know that.

“Ah, the Quintesson occupation. You have been out of it for a while; you missed the entire war!”