Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You can't fill a hole

With a billion empty souls

(Les Friction, Your World Will Fail)

Deep in the core of Unicron was something almost like a sun. It gave off no warmth and the glow it produced cast deep shadows. If an errant Transformer had made it so far without being destroyed, they’d think it was a spark and they wouldn’t be too far off from the truth. 

Megatron certainly didn’t make it anywhere close. He had accepted Unicron’s terms, after all, and had not been devoured. He had no idea what Unicron had done to imbue his new minions with sparks. If he had, he’d seen new sparks peel away from the cold sun within Unicron. 

Scourge was an easy choice. Back when he’d been alive for the first time, he’d already been the hub for an experimental hunter-seeker swarm. Unicron paired the mind pattern stored deep in his data center with the spark. To make sure Galvatron wouldn’t notice anything strange about his new minions he connected it with the memories stored in the data-banks of the body he was reformatting. That would ensure Scourge would know his way around the modern world without needing a tedious period of adjustment. Then he moved on to the next choice.

The warrior. There were several he could have chosen from, but eventually, he thought Cyclonus would work best. Megatron had an idea of an ideal second in command and Cyclonus was very close to what Megatron wanted. But of course, he’d not be ideal. No one with a free will would be as devoted and void of ego as Megatron would want them to be. 

But Cyclonus had been utterly devoted to a leader and a cause once. With some encrypting and de-indexing, Unicron managed to redirect those feelings towards Galvatron and the Decepticons. It would not hold. Eventually, Cyclonus’s original purpose would resurface. 

Well. Galvatron was merely a tool. Cyclonus and Scourge, and the Sweeps were parts of Unicron, and they had a purpose. Unicron would hide it from them for now, to keep the fool Galvatron’s leash hidden.

Nevertheless, Megatron and Galvatron might have been power-hungry fools, but they were charismatic fools and Cyclonus was as stubborn as he was loyal. He would need a push for his encrypted memories to resurface, and potentially more of a push to act against Galvatron.

And so, two more sparks split away from Unicron’s. Armada and Cyberwarp. Unicron wasn’t going to replicate the Sweep hivemind with them–he didn’t need to. Cyclonus was loyal–not just to his leader, but those who followed him. And under the right circumstances, he’d see being forced to choose between his loyalty to Galvatron and his obligations towards his underlings, as a betrayal on Galvatron’s part.

And Armada and Cyberwarp were both exactly the kinds of bots who’d infuriate Galvatron. 

Unicron let Galvatron leave on his quest to destroy the Matrix, and changed course to head towards Cybertron. It was not his final goal, but he needed to feed before he’d descend on Quintessa.

Starscream had waited for this day for a very, very long time. He’d been patient. And now, finally, Megatron was dead and he was where he was meant to be–on top. Naturally, that meant that unlike Megatron, he was going to ensure he’d stay there. 

So, first of all: he picked Slipstream as his second-in-command. As one of his Seekers, she’d not betray him. And while she was abrasive at times, she was clever. Really, he had been a bit embarrassed throughout all of those years to be Megatron’s second-in-command. The sort of over-the-top boot-licking that got Starscream his position should not have been seen as a proper qualification for a second-in-command. But then Megatron had been a worse judge of character than an algorithm written by an Anglo-Saxon teenage human male from Florida.

Second, he was going to make sure none of Megatron’s loyalists were around to depose Starscream. Soundwave and his horrible infiltration troopers were Autobot POWs, and as such, Starscream would merely never request their release. Shockwave had made himself scarce by the time Starscream arrived on Cybertron, but Airachnid was a much more amusing replacement for head scientist anyway. And the Rainmakers would eventually find Shockwave and deal with him. 

Which left Lugnut. Honestly, it was a bit pathetic that Megatron had only managed three proper loyalists, and one of them had the processing power of an organic juvenile’s toy. Well, as humans said, the masses needed bread and circuses, and Lugnut’s death would provide a very nice circus indeed.

Thirdly, Starscream was going to make a bold political move. He was going to start negotiating a peace treaty with the Autobots. He had many good reasons for that, chief of them being that he absolutely didn’t intend to ever face Optimus Prime in combat. Besides, the war had dragged on long enough, and there were much better things they could be doing with their time than trying to shoot each other. 

So he made the first cautious step while preparing his coronation: he sent a message asking to meet to negotiate peace. He’d not received a response yet, but he was certain one would arrive. After all, Autobots weren’t warriors. There were a few former soldiers and Decepticon deserters among them, but they all had joined the Autobots because they didn’t want to fight and conquer in the first place.

So, Starscream had been in a very good mood, and not just because unlike Megatron he had style and got himself a crown. 

It didn’t last. 

Hot Rod didn’t remember the beginning of the Great War–he’d been built long after it was in full swing. He’d been told that people had died at the beginning. A lot of them. All of the Titans, save for Omega Supreme, for example. 

But things had changed as the war progressed–Autobots got harder to kill and better at killing Decepticons. The numbers of Cybertronians dwindled. There had never been a formal treaty or anything, but at the point Hot Rod had been built an unwritten rule already existed: you didn’t shoot to kill. Some, like Shadow Striker, had grumbled about it, but even she didn’t abandon it.

Accidental deaths still happened, but the battles had been more about holding off the Decepticons until they managed to evacuate whichever position had been compromised this time. It hadn’t changed much when it came to light that Megatron and Optimus had survived. Until, one day the Decepticons chose to ignore the rule, and now Prowl, Brawn and Ironhide were dead, and Ratchet was critically wounded. 

Prime’s shuttle and Sky Lynx had caught up with the Decepticons on Earth’s moon. It had been pure luck that Sky Lynx had spotted the hole in Ironhide’s shuttle’s hull, and alerted Optimus. There had been a battle. A short one. And now Megatron was dead. Which would mean changes, though what changes those would be was another question. With Starscream in charge, it could be anything. As long as it benefited Starscream that is.

For now, Optimus had made it back to Autobot City, where First Aid and Glit could take care of Ratchet, and fix up anyone else who’d been injured. And once that was done, and Optimus was fixed, he and Ultra Magnus had things to discuss, and since Springer took over babysitting Daniel, Hot Rod had decided to join in. Sure, he ran the risk of being given something boring to do, if Ultra Magnus decided he needed to talk with Optimus about something Hot Rod wasn’t supposed to hear, but Hot Rod was willing to take the risk. Ultra Magnus was nice and everything, but he was also terribly pragmatic and straight-laced, and Hot Rod figured he probably could use some support on the cheering Optimus up front.

But no new task for Hot Rod had materialized. Instead, Magnus let him enter his office, and keyed a command for three chairs to appear. He handed Optimus a cube of energon, as they settled down. For a while, they just went over Ratchet’s prognosis (uncertain) and how Autobot City would soon be fully operational. But then, eventually, they turned to another subject–Decepticons. And specifically, a message that had arrived from Cybertron for Optimus.

“Will you talk to Starscream?” Ultra Magnus asked. 

Optimus didn’t look terribly enthusiastic about the prospect, but he nodded. “If Starscream really wants to start peace negotiations, then we should use the opportunity. But he will have to wait until we’ve interred the dead.”

“Does he, though?” Hot Rod asked. Sure, Hot Rod suspected some Decepticons would be much happier if the war was over–a lot of them didn’t even particularly seem to like to fight–but Starscream was a different case. As far Hot Rod could tell, Starscream was perfectly fine with war and combat as long as it made him look good. 

“I think Starscream will do what benefits him most,” Optimus said. “And keeps him out of danger. Which means we do have a chance of peace, but we will have to be careful what we agree to.” He looked at Hot Rod with a thoughtful expression and then said to Ultra Magnus, “If you don’t have anything else in mind, I’d like to take Hot Rod with me. I think he might have interesting observations.”

“Er… Me?” Hot Rod said, which was totally not an embarrassing thing to say to Optimus and right in front of Ultra Magnus. 

“Yes, you,” Optimus said. “I think you will learn a lot this way, Hot Rod.”

Hot Rod just hoped there’d be no written exam. Sometimes, Optimus acted far too much like a misplaced teacher.

Chapter Text

Nightmares shifted endlessly in the darkness of the lake ("The Poet and the Muse", Poets of the Fall)

Starscream was dead and that put Slipstream in charge of the Seekers. The current leader of the Deceptions didn’t seem to realize or care about that. Nor for the fact that the Seekers would never be his . Starscream had been their leader, and they’d remained Decepticons because he remained. 

Well, that and it had been the more prudent option: Decepticons controlled Cybertron and Megatron was violent and doted on his grudges like an organic grandparent on their juveniles. He was (significant pause) competent–he hadn’t lost the war. He hadn’t won it either, and the other side had only a handful of actual warriors so the optics weren’t exactly great. 

Still, it had been safer to stay Decepticons. 

But it wasn’t anymore. There had been unwritten rules about the civil war, after all. And Megatron had broken them and suffered the consequences. Perhaps, with someone else in charge, Slipstream would have come to a different conclusion. But while Galvatron may not have admitted outright that he was Megatron rebuilt, when Starscream asked if he was Megatron, he had literally said ‘Here’s a hint.’ Well, Slipstream was going to take the hint, all right. 

And now, ex-Megatron wanted to go after Prime, as if Prime hadn’t torn through their ranks to pretty much beat Megatron to death.

You, who are without mercy, now plead for it?  

Slipstream shuddered at the memory. The Prime was soft-sparked, yes, but clearly, there was a limit. And Megatron had crossed it.

+Seekers, this is Slipstream,+ she sent on an encrypted channel. +Execute order G-1-1-0.+ 

Once upon a time, the existence of the order had seemed like paranoia on Starscream’s part, but now it was clear it had been prudence. He had probably never imagined that he wouldn’t be the one giving it, though.

Then, once more, Slipstream changed channels to an older one that she hadn’t used in a long time. Truthfully, she had intended to never use it again. But desperate times called for desperate measures. 

+Starscream is dead,+ she sent. +Meet me.+

She didn’t dare to send anything more. Even with Soundwave caught, there were other ways of intercepting messages. And any encryption could be eventually broken. 

There was only one more thing left for her to do. Slipstream left her hab suite. She entered a new security passphrase. Not that there was anything there that would betray her plans, but it could potentially stall anyone who’d want to look for her. 

She flew up, and landed just outside the Hall of Heroes. She’d hoped to maybe have a moment to herself–one final look at the spot where Starscream had died, but no such luck. The newbuilds were all there, though at least ex-Megatron wasn’t. Then again, Slipstream had planned for that. It’d have looked suspicious if she’d broken off her approach and ran off, so instead she finished her landing and announced she was heading on patrol. One of ex-Megatron’s cronies–one of the two with the horns–gave her the sort of look Slipstream herself would give an organic that splattered over her foot. She had tentatively managed to figure out how to tell him apart from the other one with the horns: he was the one who talked and seemed to be perpetually angry. The other one had not said a word and kept their expression completely neutral.

The cluster of bearded mechs was impossible to tell apart though. They sounded the same, they had the same body-language… 

“Cyberwarp, go with her,” Horns One said to the small green-blue bot. She didn’t seem like much to Slipstream–about the size of one of the smaller Autobots. Except, of course, those seemed to all have the fighting spirit of one of those tiny Earth canids that barked up a storm and tried to murder the ankles of anything that came close enough. Maybe this Cyberwarp was like that too?

“Yes, Cyclonus,” Cyberwarp said. 

Well. Slipstream still had the home advantage. She would find a way to lose her.

The Hall of Heroes had clearly been built to instill a sense of awe. The golden statues of previous Decepticon leaders formed a circle around a dais with a throne. Cyberwarp found that it only made her nervous. The Sweeps also didn’t seem to like it there. Only Cyclonus and Armada appeared unaffected, both wearing identical expressions of detached disdain. That could have more to do with the fact that all the other Decepticons they had seen so far had been skulking and sneaking past, though. 

The leader of the Seekers–Slipstream–transformed and landed in front of them. Like the other Seekers, her design was flashy and accentuated her flight capability. Unlike most other Seekers though, Slipstream had chosen to paint her face–her lips specifically. It made the bitter turn of her mouth all the more noticeable. 

“I’m heading out on patrol,” Slipstream said to Cyclonus, after a moment’s hesitation, where she looked first at Armada and then at Cyclonus. Cyberwarp guessed she was figuring out which one was which. 

“Cyberwarp, go with her,” Cyclonus told Cyberwarp and then, over a private channel, added, +If she tries to run, let her. Follow her at a safe distance.+

+Why not just let her go? Galvatron killed her commander,+ Cyberwarp sent back, while out loud she said, “Yes, Cyclonus.”

+Because she might decide to change sides, or at least pass information to our enemies.+ Cyclonus sounded exasperatedly patient–one of the several shades of angry his mood seemed to usually be. 

So Cyberwarp decided to let go for now. She didn’t like anything that had happened so far, but… she only had to endure all of this until Galvatron brought Unicron the Matrix. Then they’d have peace. And so, even if she understood why Slipstream might want to leave, she would follow her. 

“Friendly one, isn’t he?” Slipstream commented dryly, as she transformed.

“He thinks you should have fought Galvatron after he killed your leader,” Cyberwarp replied. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she was quite certain she was right. Cyclonus was like that. “Do you mind if I attach myself to your canopy? There’s no way I can keep up with you in or out of my alt-mode.”

Slipstream snorted and transformed back into her core-mode. “No way. I’m not a transport like Astrotrain,” she said, sounding very much like being transport was synonymous with rust. “And your commander sounds like Ultra Magnus, almost,” she said, deliberately lowering her voice as she mimicked someone. “Loyalty! Duty! I’m an Autobot now!”

For a while, they flew in silence, as Cyberwarp considered what Slipstream had just told her. Eventually, they reached a city. It was a gutted thing. Some buildings were nothing more than ruins and even the ones that were intact seemed to be abandoned. All the windows were dark.

“You mean someone defected?” Cyberwarp asked as they flew over a broken maglev track. From up high, it looked like a torn ribbon. 

“You can’t really call that defection,” Slipstream said. “Ultra Magnus was a soldier and when most of the army joined Megatron he didn’t.” Slipstream fell silent for a moment. “If you want defectors, there’s Warpath, for example. He was built when the war already started and one day, he just up and disappeared. Next thing we know, he’s an Autobot. Same with Hot Rod.”

“Hot Rod?” Cyberwarp asked. One of Shrapnel’s memories was of Hot Rod–a brash, flashy Autobot, who’d set the Insecticons once on fire to protect a group of humans. “Hot Rod was a Decepticon?”

“Oh yes,” Slipstream said with a snort. “Shockwave built him himself, in a fit of pettiness, after he got a request for a newbuild from every faction on Cybertron at once. And then Hot Rod apparently decided it’s cooler to be on the losing side.”

Cyberwarp wondered if there was perhaps more to the story than just that. It was clear to her though that Slipstream hadn’t considered that Hot Rod’s reasons might have been deeper.

“What about Warpath?” Cyberwarp asked, wondering if maybe Slipstream would have something more substantial to say about him.

“Who knows?” Slipstream said. “Warpath is Warpath. You know, misfiring from a few transistors.”

Which was a possibility, given the odd speech pattern Sharpnel had noticed. She could tell, however, that Slipstream wasn’t going to explain any more about Warpath either.

“So, why didn’t Ultra Magnus join you?” she asked instead.

Slipstream made a dismissive noise. “Something, something, war bad, something, something, can’t go conquering organics, something, something, as bad as Quintessons, whatever those were. Oh, and Megatron shot up some dock workers. He hadn’t liked that either.” She snorted. “Or that Megatron killed Sentinel Prime after defeating him in a duel. Ultra Magnus and the old bastard were close.”

“Those are bad reasons?” Cyberwarp asked. “I don’t think we should be conquering anyone, organic or not.” There was something, something she couldn’t remember, nagging at her. Something important.

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that ,” Slipstream said. “Megatron will- Galvatron will you shoot you, if he hears any treasonous talk like that. And those are bad reasons, though not the worst ones.”

They had reached a point where the maglev ended abruptly in a deep chasm. Cyberwarp saw a golden glow pulsating from inside it rhythmically. It seemed weak though, like whatever was giving it off was dying. 

“At least Ultra Magnus wasn’t insisting he’s fighting us because he has better things to do with his life than fight,” Slipstream continued. She seemed very insistent on making sure to avoid the subject of conquering being a bad thing. “That was Grimlock. Like anyone believes that.” She snorted. “And then there’s Paragon, and-”

She didn’t finish. There was a roar of engines, as two Seekers burst from one of the holes in the wall of the chasm–one red and orange, the other navy blue and dark gray–and started shooting at them. Cyberwarp cut her anti-gravs and dropped to dodge them, and noted that both Seekers had Autobot symbols, and then, that with this maneuver she let them get between herself and Slipstream, who almost immediately transformed and flew off, the navy blue Seeker rushing after her. 

The red and orange one, meanwhile, stayed above Cyberwarp. There was a burst of noise–some sort of horrid wailing, clearly calibrated to disorient a bot’s sensors. Cyberwarp continued diving, until she crashed into the ground. 

When she came to, the Seekers were gone. 

The hit had been sudden. It hadn’t been terribly hard, just enough to hurt. 

“Next time, when you have the urge to think , remember this,” Galvatron growled, while Cyclonus was still trying to figure out what had happened. He’d just finished relaying Cyberwarp’s report, and then all of a sudden, Galvatron had struck him. And it seemed like he’d been the only one who had been surprised. The other Decepticons seemed to act as if this was business as usual. “Especially, if your limited processor stumbles on the idea that someone might be plotting to defect. You should have sent a warrior, rather than a spy drone.”

“That was the point–she was built for spying, ” Cyclonus countered. There was something off about the whole interaction, but Cyclonus couldn’t tell what was wrong–just that something about the universe was off, almost like someone had slipped into the spot where another was meant to be. 

This time around, he saw the hit coming, and managed to roll with it. Dodging would have just provoked further assault–it was safer to minimize damage. 

“If I want to hear your excuses, I will ask,” Galvatron said, pacing. He seemed to be unable to stand still, almost like he was afraid that stopping would mean something terrible would catch up with him. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, my lord,” Cyclonus replied and stamped down on the sudden rush of fury that the words brought with them. He had been created for Galvatron. This should not infuriate him and yet, something about calling him lord was terribly bitter.

“Good,” Galvatron said. He turned towards the Sweeps, who collectively flinched. “Follow Slipstream’s trail. Autobots are foolish and sentimental–they will not kill her. If we’re lucky, they’ll take her to Elita One, and if we have her, we can lure out Optimus.”

Cyclonus caught Astrotrain’s horrified expression and so did Galvatron.

“Yes, Astrotrain?” he growled, and Astrotrain took a step back, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he said. 

“Are you afraid you’ll fail me again?” Galvatron asked, and for a moment, Cyclonus just felt relieved his leader was focused on someone else. 

“Yes! No!” Astrotrain said, clearly trying to find an answer that would satisfy Galvatron. “I mean, you haven’t ordered me to look for her, Lord Galvatron, so um… I was just- just thinking about how to er… how my experience could help Scourge?”

“Well, you’ve finally had an idea worth something,” Galvatron snorted. “Go with Scourge.”

Astrotrain turned immediately and practically ran off. The Sweeps followed. Galvatron seemed to be satisfied for now, so Cyclonus decided to find out more. Like who exactly was Elita One exactly and what had happened the last time the Decepticons tried to use her to lure the Prime into a trap.

Chapter Text

But the war’s still going on, dear, and there’s no end that I know

(Blue Oyster Cult, Veteran of the Psychic Wars)

Slipstream made sure she remembered all of the flaws of her former team. How vain Doom Siren was. How taciturn Night Witch had been. And how both of them had no shred of loyalty, given that they had left Slipstream and the other Seekers. 

She’d very deliberately squashed all the memories of racing together, of their battle computers syncing and forming one powerful gestalt that made them more than the sum of their parts. 

And now, she couldn’t, because Doom Siren was on her right, and Night Witch on her left. But the memories were bitter–the old betrayal could not be forgotten. 

“She sulks,” Night Witch observed. Underneath them, Cybertron was in ruins. It had looked like that for so long that Slipstream barely paid attention to it. But now, she couldn’t help but to compare it with the view when they’d flown together the last time, before the war had started. 

“Thank you, my friends, for risking your lives to save me,” Doom Siren said, her voice distorted by the amplifier. It had always been hard to listen to her–even when she wasn’t wailing one of her songs, it would make one dizzy and disoriented. 

“I’ve not forgiven you,” Slipstream hissed. “I only contacted you because there was no other choice.”

“We have not forgiven you ,” Night Witch said with a sneer. “Don’t try to pretend to have moral high ground. You chose status over what was right.”

“Oh spare me your moralizing,” Slipstream growled. “And you still didn’t learn how to use articles? It’s been how many million years that you had to start speaking like an intelligent being?”

“Bah, maybe idiots like you need articles to know what object I am talking about,” Night Witch replied. “Maybe you should have gotten yourself working processor.”

“That’d have made her think ,” Doom Siren said. “And then she’d have realized that following Megatron is a bad idea, and we can’t have the brilliant Slipstream doubting her choices.”

“I hate you both so much,” Slipstream replied. Except she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was angry with them, yes, but… but they’d been right. About some things. Following Megatron had been a bad idea. It ended up with Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker and the Coneheads dead.

“We land now,” Night Witch said. “Check we are not being followed.”

This was something the two had clearly done often enough–Slipstream wondered how often they would have been hiding from her. She didn’t like the thought. What was done was done, and she had no time for useless regrets.

They slipped into a sheltered area–the view was limited, but it’d hide them from a visual scan. A moment passed, then another. Eventually, Night Witch motioned for Slipstream to follow. They slowly made their way on foot through ruined back alleys. Graffiti decorated some of them. Slipstream spotted a few really old ones insulting various Decepticon faction leaders, as well as Zeta and Sentinel Prime. The newest one was a very unflattering painting of Megatron doing something organic with his own cannon. 

Eventually, they entered one of the many derelict buildings and made their way beneath it at a glacial pace. Doom Siren and Night Witch kept stopping to touch a wall, again and again. 

Eventually, a door locked behind them, and Night Witch said, “Now we check if you have tracker.”

“Shouldn’t you have done it earlier?” Slipstream asked, irritated.

“Nope,” Doom Siren said, grinning brightly. “If we did, anyone following you wouldn’t get to enjoy all the lovely traps Lancer built.”

Slipstream almost felt sorry for their theoretical pursuit. Lancer wasn’t Wheeljack or Perceptor, exactly, but she was a skilled engineer, nevertheless. Maybe she could convince the others to stay and watch the fireworks from a safe distance?

Cyclonus had been going through Starscream’s personal terminal, when Scourge’s panicked massage interrupted his attempt at finding anything of use there: +Cyclonus! Cyclonus, help!+ 

It was not the right time, but then those things never happened at the right time. Cyclonus had just managed to finally crack Starscream’s password (an insulting phrase about Megatron) so he could actually access the data he’d need as a second in command and was trying to figure out how to find it. So far, he’d only managed to call up ancient astrographic research papers, messages from someone named Skyfire and so much security footage of people doing embarrassing things, he was starting to wonder if Starscream had been running a professional blackmailing operation on the side. 

But no–once he thought about it, the answer was in Skywarp’s memories. Sometimes, Starscream would watch the recordings with his lieutenants, after Megatron had humiliated him. Presumably, it was some sort of a pathetic attempt at making himself feel less of an abject failure. Cyclonus found it distasteful and frustrating–his predecessor's proclivities would build expectations for him and the thought of being associated with someone like that was infuriating. 

At least the room was nice. Well, it’d be, once Cyclonus did something sensible with a sculpture that occupied the half of it. It was actually quite pleasant to look at in a completely incomprehensible abstract kind of way and must have clearly cost about enough to build a small spaceship, but parts of it were low enough for Cyclonus to bump into it with his horns. Maybe he could give to Cyberwarp? It also clashed with all of the pictures and a golden statue of an undressed organic gladiator. There was really no rhyme or reason for why someone would put all of those in one room as far Cyclonus could tell.  

+What is it, Scourge?+ Cyclonus replied. Clearly, since Scourge could send a long range message, he was not in a state or situation that meant he couldn’t explain why he needed help.

+They set the energon in one of the Sweeps on fire!+ Scourge answered not at all helpfully. Clearly, Cyclonus’s assumption about Scourge’s state not precluding explanations was wrong–he apparently was already too panicked to make sense. 

+Retreat to a secure position,+ Cyclonus sent, doing his best to sound calm and not impatient. The last thing he needed right now was the Sweeps giving into blind panic and running off. +Try to put out the fire. I’ll be right there.+

+Armada! Cyberwarp! With me!+ he sent, already running. His body had memories of Skywarp transforming in mid-run, but his attempt hadn’t been as smooth. There was a moment of vertigo where all of his senses seemed jumbled and the shape he was in completely alien. But it only lasted a moment–undoubtedly the result of being so recently built.

By the time he had transformed, Armada and Cyberwarp had joined him. Armada had transformed too, but Cyberwarp stayed in bot-mode and attached herself to Armada’s canopy. She’d never catch up with them in her alt-mode.

“What’s going on?” Cyberwarp asked. Armada, as usual, didn’t say anything.

“The Sweeps are in trouble,” Cyclonus replied. “Someone set the energon in one of them on fire?” 

Cyclonus was somewhat dubious this was exactly what had happened, but he was also fairly sure getting a coherent report from Scourge would have to wait until the fire was out. 

“That’s horrible!” Cyberwarp said. “Why would anyone do that?”

Cyclonus didn’t answer right away, not because he needed to think about the answer, but rather because it came naturally, like he knew exactly when one would employ tactics like this. But he couldn’t know how being that desperate felt–he’d not even been in a fight so far.

“They want to keep us away,” he said as matter-of-factly as he could. It was just tactics. Nothing more, nothing less. “Scare us away, because we have more fire-power.” 

Armada sent a ping, which Cyclonus very pointedly ignored. He was not going to think about this at the moment, when he had to deal with panicking Sweeps. 

The city under them was mostly abandoned, the streets empty. Some of the buildings had been damaged perhaps by artillery, but others appeared to be fine. There was simply no one inside them–in fact, it appeared there hadn’t been anyone around for a long time. 

They eventually landed next to the entrance into a sheltered alley. The Sweeps and Astrotrain were there too, one of them still smoking from various places. 

“What happened?” Cyclonus asked, doing his best not to sound impatient. 

“The place they’re hiding in is trapped,” Scourge said.

“And we can’t disarm the traps,” one Sweep added. 

“Can we leave now?” another said. “I don’t want to be set on fire. Or frozen. Or-”

“Anyway, they probably left,” yet another Sweep added. “And we were supposed to go trigger all the traps. And die.”

“And since it’s definitely a trap and the Autobots and Slipstream left, we didn’t go in any further,” Scourge said. “Because it would be pointless. And also we needed to put Sweep Six out.”

“Scourge, you have a dozen ways of tracking someone,” Cyclonus growled. “Why are you not doing it?”

“They’re underground,” Scourge said promptly.

Cyclonus turned to Astrotrain. “Can they fly underground?”

“Probably not everywhere,” Astrotrain replied.

“Then they will have to walk,” Cyclonus said. “And you can track seismic disturbances, Scourge. So?”

Scourge and the Sweeps attempted to look innocent and virtuous, which failed spectacularly. 

“Well,” Scourge said, fidgeting.

“You see,” a Sweep added. 

“Astrotrain told us about the last time the Decepticons tried to use Elita One to lure Prime into a trap,” Scourge continued. “And I mean it in the most respectful way, but it sounds like we should maybe come up with a different plan?”

“Do you want to suggest it to Galvatron?” Cyclonus snapped. He certainly didn’t. 

“Well, I thought you might?” Scourge said, raising his hands defensively. “Er… We’ll see if we can pick up Slipstream’s heat signature somewhere. And follow it.”

“And in the meantime, Astrotrain can tell me about what went wrong the last time,” Cyclonus said, quite aware he was sounding acidic by now. “And then we can try figuring out how to avoid it.”

 Astrotrain looked like someone who very much wanted to be somewhere else. Cyclonus glared at him and waited silently.

“I don’t know what went wrong,” Astrotrain said eventually. “One moment we had her, and Prime was hanging over a vat of acid and the next moment he was free, and er… well, you never fought Prime, but once he really gets serious, it’s just best to run.”

“Why?” Cyclonus asked, then realized he knew why. Prime had been the one who killed Skywarp–he’d shot him after driving over Thrust and one of the Insecticons. Skywarp wasn’t the only one Prime had shot then, either. He’d basically taken out six Decepticons in a matter of seconds. “Nevermind, what about Elita One?”

“She’s kind of like Prime?” Astrotrain replied. “I mean, not as durable, but you have to hit her. And usually, you don’t, because we can’t find her - her team are like ghosts. Ghosts who leave traps. Or we send someone out and they never come back. Like Hoverbolt or Siegegun.”

“What else?”

“She was trained by Beta,” Astortrain said. The name sounded familiar and at first Cyclonus had no idea why, but then he realized that it was just Skywarp’s memories of a green bot. There had been a few of those, always to the same tune–Beta would appear as if out of nowhere, beat whatever Decepticons she ran into and disappear while her foes were picking up limbs from the ground. 

“Beta destroyed Vigilem, right?” Cyclonus said. Sure, she hadn’t survived that either, but it was still impressive.

“You know, sane people would be scared by that,” Astrotrain said rather put out. “Vigilem was a Titan.”

Which was a perfectly sensible reason to be impressed, as far as Cyclonus was concerned. Even if Beta had been the enemy, she’d done something courageous to protect others on her side. 

“He has a point Cyclonus,” Scourge said. “Vigilem was a war Titan, right? Not just huge, but actually armed.”

“Oh yeah, he was a proper Titan. Needed a City Speaker to communicate, ‘cause he was so big he couldn’t understand you if you’d just talk to him,” Astrotrain said. “I mean there were bigger ones, supposedly. There’s this story about Iaconus–the whole city of Iacon was supposed to be a slumbering war titan.” 

Which sounded very exciting. Cyclonus would have liked to see a war Titan himself, not just have Skywarps memories–bleached things with no emotions. Armada looked equally fascinated, while Cyberwarp appeared to be exasperated.

“There’s a rumor Autobot City on Earth might be one of those,” Astrotrain continued, and the Sweeps moved closer to become a tighter huddle. Apparently, not everyone found Titans to be exciting. It was time to cut the conversation short and get back on track, before the Sweeps worked themselves into a panic again. 

“This is irrelevant,” Cyclonus said. “You can scare Scourge later. Tell me what else you know about Elita One.”

“She has a team,” Astrotrain said. “Your spy already ran into Doom Siren and Night Witch–they’re Seekers. Doom Siren has a modified voicebox that lets her emit frequencies that mess with your sensors. Chromia and Firestar were both in Security Operations under Sentinel Prime- before the war. So they have proper combat training and experience. Lancer is an engineer–she’s OK with a gun, but what they have her for is building traps. And other engineering stuff. Greenlight is kinda a mediocre fighter, but Arcee will materialize right next to you and probably rip out your sparkchamber if you hurt her. And they have a sniper–I don’t know her name, we just call her Greymaker. And there’s the little teal one, she was built when the war started. I’ve no idea what she does, but the little Autobots are usually the ones that will try to murder you the hardest.”

He then glanced at Cyberwarp as if expecting her to turn into a raging berserker. Personally, Cyclonus didn’t think it was likely, but they had other things to do then figure out if Cyberwarp was or wasn’t secretly out to murder all enemies she’d meet–like find Elita One and that meant figuring out their approach.

So far so good–they had the advantage in numbers and in theory, they had the advantage of all being warriors. That said, the Sweeps were prone to panic and Astrotrain’s morale was clearly long gone. Elita One’s team also was more experienced–Astrotrain was the only one of them who hadn’t been built only a few days ago. Their best hope was being fast and catching Doom Siren, Night Witch and Slipstream before they met up with the rest of Elita One’s team.

“Scourge, start tracking,” Cyclonus said. “Transmit the data to me and I’ll take point.” That ought to keep the Sweeps reasonably calm. “Armada, you’re the rear guard.”

Slipstream’s trail ended abruptly in one of the many abandoned alleyways that lead to nowhere. Scourge guessed they must have stopped. Cyclonus decided to circle above it to get a better lay of the land, when someone shot clean through his wing.

“Sniper!” Cyberwarp cried, while Cyclonus transformed and landed behind the nearest piece of cover. Cyberwarp joined him a moment later, while Armada had to land behind a different part of the ruined building–they were too big to fit behind the same broken wall together. 

Astrotrain all but disappeared and the Sweeps scattered. Neither reaction was something Cyclonus hadn’t expected, although it was still extremely frustrating. 

+Scourge,+ Cyclonus sent, not even trying not to growl. +Get back here now!+

A moment later, the Sweeps started landing somewhat further behind Cyclonus’s position. Then another one of them crashed to the ground, a smoking hole where his optic had been. The other had turned dull and dark, just as his body was turning lifeless gray. The sniper was good –optics were a small target. 

Then another Sweep crashed, this one with a hole in their chest, right through the spark chamber. 

Cyclonus remembered what Astrotrain had told him. Usually, no one tasked with finding Elita One came back. He hadn’t dismissed it, exactly, but he had assumed it was exaggerated. And now he’d lost two Sweeps.

Galvatron would be disappointed with such unnecessary losses. 

He needed a better plan. They were pinned down by a sniper–there was not enough cover going forward to keep them safe. Perhaps, if his wing hadn’t been damaged, Cyclonus could have made it to the sniper going at full speed. 

+Armada, can you get to the sniper?+ he sent. 

Armada nodded. 

+Scourge, we’ll need cover,+ Cyclonus sent. 

+How about we retreat instead, before we get all shot?+ Scourge asked. 

+Scourge.+ Cyclonus put all of his irritation into the name. He wasn’t asking for an opinion–this was not the time for it. They could discuss tactics later , when they had time.

+Cover, right, yes,+ Scourge sent back.  The Sweeps started shooting in the general direction of the sniper moments later. Cyclonus and Cyberwarp joined them. The sniper was still shooting back and Cyclonus thought at least two others had joined the exchange. Not exactly ideal circumstances for a charge-

And then, a shadow fell over them. Cyclonus looked up and through the broken roof, he saw Unicron disengaged his cloaking. His giant form filled the whole sky above them. The Autobots stopped shooting–this was their chance.

+Armada!+ Cyclonus said and stopped in his tracks, because Unicron started to speak.

+I grow tired of waiting.+ Unicron’s voice sounded deceptively bored, as if the matter was barely worth his attention. Cyclonus knew this was not the case, just like he knew he wasn’t the only one hearing the message. It wasn’t hard to guess, really, given that Unicron’s broadcast was deafening.

+How dare you! Cybertron belongs to me!+ Galvatron sent, incandescent with fury.

+You belong to him,+ Scourge sent back. It should have been obvious to Galvatron–he’d made a deal with Unicron after all. And yet, Cyclonus hated the idea.

+I belong to nobody!+ Galvatron protested, his voice now laced with pain. The sentiment felt familiar and Cyclonus felt a sudden fury–not at Unicron, but at Galvatron, for not seeing he was just the same as Unicron, thinking he owned others–and then guilt. He’d been made for Galvatron. That should be it.

+Very well,+ Unicron sent, unperturbed. 

+I will obey,+ Galvatron answered. +Cyclonus! Scourge! Return to base.+

When they took off again, Cyclonus thought he spotted two Autobots on one of the buildings. One was small and teal, the other somewhat bigger and blue. The teal one was looking up at Unicron, when the blue one grabbed them and pulled them away.

Chapter Text

A reflected dream of a captured time (Iron Maiden, Dream of Mirrors)

Unicron would direct them to where the Prime was, which meant they didn’t need to find him. Still, since Galvatron wanted Cyclonus with him, that left the matter of Cyclonus’s wing–it was too damaged for him to fly well in his altmode. So he ended up in the medbay–which looked like it doubled as a lab and storage room for wax and other care products. Cyclonus also spotted some very ominous-looking tools stuffed in various corners. The medic–Knock Out–had been fiddling with a cube of energon when Cyclonus entered, but he put it away so quickly, Cyclonus suspected he wasn’t supposed to have it. The fact that the energon was bright green was not helping the impression.

“Is there a reason you have green energon?” he asked. 

“Oh, it’s just a little side-project, nothing more,” Knock Out said. “I’m sure it will bore you dreadfully to listen to all of the science, though of course if I’m wrong I can give you all the data on it.”

Cyclonus nodded. “When we’re back, you’ll tell me all about it.”

Knock Out nodded, looking none too happy about that. “Let’s get to business, shall we?” he said. “Come closer, and let me take a look at you.”

Cyclonus complied, and let Knock Out inspect his wing.

“My, aren’t you an impressive specimen,” Knock Out said eventually. There was something about the way he did it that seemed… rehearsed. A performance meant to flatter Cyclonus? If so, Cyclonus didn’t particularly feel flattered. “Let’s take care of that unsightly hole there, shall we?”

Still, he was the medic, and there was a hole in Cyclonus’s wing, so Cyclonus settled down and let Knock Out work. That apparently entailed talking nonstop and somehow lead to them discussing the Prime, out of everything. Or his alt-mode.

“-there’s just something about a red truck-” 

Skywarp’s memories were very clear. A heavy military model at the first glance, but with some traits that were closer to an industrial consumer good. The most recent memory was that of Prime driving straight into the Decepticon ranks, his alt-mode ramming the unfortunate Thrust and Shrapnel, before they could get out of the way.

“He does look impressive,” Cyclonus said. 

“Ah, you at least have taste,” Knock Out said. “Your predecessor was unfortunately an utter narcissist and would get offended if anyone made the slightest mention someone else might be aesthetically pleasing.” 

“Why was Starscream Megatron’s second in command?” Cyclonus said, while Knock Out inspected the shallow scuff-marks Galvatron’s fist had left on Cyclonus’s cheek. Nobody seemed to have a positive opinion of Starscream so far. Certainly not Galvatron. 

It made absolutely no sense.

“Not for his looks, as striking as those had been,” Knock Out said. “There was of course the fact that the Seekers were loyal to him, but it wasn’t all. Starscream was really very smart–not as smart as he believed himself to be, but definitely very very clever. And he could be quite charming, if he thought there was something in it for him. He was one of the few Decepticons Megatron could send out to negotiations and expect him to get results.”

Knock Out moved away, apparently done with the repairs. “You’re not very much like him and while I would not encourage practicing a bloated ego, you might want to work on your charm.”

“Why? I’ll just delegate any charming to you, if it’s necessary,” Cyclonus said. 

“Ah, I stand corrected, you’ll do just fine,” Knock Out said, preening. That at least seemed honest. “There we go, you’re all good to go. Try not to get shot again, will you?”

Slipstream shouldn’t have found Elita One intimidating. The Autobot lieutenant was significantly smaller than Slipstream, but somehow Slipstream had to keep reminding herself this was the case. It was different from being around Starscream or even Megatron–Elita One didn’t have to posture to command attention, she simply did.

“Night Witch and Doom Siren are telling me you need our help, Slipstream,” Elita One said. “I’d like to know more–what exactly happened?”

And so Slipstream went over the most recent changes in Decepticon leadership. Elita One listened in silence, until Slipstream was done. “Do you believe Galvatron is really Megatron, rebuilt?”

Slipstream shrugged. “He could be just using the claim to build legitimacy. Although I never saw anyone other than Megatron with a fusion cannon of that size and power.” She frowned. “Then again, Megatron never went as far as killing Starscream…”

“He did kill Terminus,” Doom Siren said. “So, it’s not like it’s unusual for him to get rid of his second once he finds a better model.”

“I guess that could have been it,” Slipstream said. “You’ve seen the new one–it’s one of the two bots with the horns. Cyclonus. I didn’t get much of an impression other than annoyed, but Cyberwarp said he thinks the Seekers should have fought Galvatron after he killed Starscream.”

Elita One nodded. “And the others?”

“The other one with the horns hasn’t said anything at all,” Slipstream continued. “Cyberwarp… is not going to make a very good Decepticon. She has doubts. The Sweeps are strange–they don’t just look identical, they have identical body language.”

“And they have all something to do with the planet that appeared,” Chromia said. “It seems like it called them off when we were extracting you.”

She gave Slipstream, Doom Siren and Night Witch a rather unimpressed look then. Probably because she didn’t approve of staying behind to watch the fireworks caused by Lancer’s traps.

“Do you know anything about it, Slipstream?” Elita One asked.

Slipstream shook her head. “No. But I guess it’s possible? If Galvatron really is Megatron, he had to have gotten himself fixed and reformatted somehow. And the planet showed up shortly after he did.”

“Hm, we will have to find out more,” Elita One replied. “Do you have anyone you could contact?”

Slipstream shook her head again. “Not really.”

“She insults others because they are not Seekers,” Night Witch said. “Not very smart, but what can you do? She lost her thinking processors.”

“Ugh, I liked you better when you used to say one sentence per day,” Slipstream grumbled. “But it’s not… completely inaccurate. I’ve never made friends with anyone else other than the Seekers. If I contact other Decepticons, they are likely to sell me out.”

Elita One nodded. “Then we will have to find other ways to investigate.”

Some things didn’t change, and one of them was that the dead would remain. It could be that like Nova or Sentinel Prime, you’d been built from the melted bodies of others. But there was another way they remained: in memory. Even if their names were forgotten, something of them would stay behind. Eons ago, someone had shown Beta how to defeat an opponent bigger than her. Now both Beta and her nameless teacher were dead, but the maneuver was still in use. 

If you were a Prime, the connection was deeper–the Matrix carried the dead and their wisdom. But it was more than that: sometimes, in battle, Optimus would move exactly like Sentinel had. 

“I’ll miss you old friend,” Optimus said, his hand placed over Ironhide’s chest. The body had already been placed in its niche, the plaque affixed. Now it was time for Ironhide’s final step to being truly dead–Optimus would inscribe his name. 

Ultra Magnus had been to many funerals. He’d seen the rites change–the cover that hid a shrine became a veil separating a mausoleum’s interior from the domain of the living. But even in times of peace, when they almost always had a body to inter, inscribing the names remained. As long as the name was written down, the dead would not be completely gone.

Optimus knelt down to pick Carly up, who’d been sobbing quietly, while Sparkplug patted her back comfortingly. Danny was safer in Autobot City and Spike hadn’t made it. But now she wiped her face, and let Optimus hold her up, so she could write Ironhide’s name. 

Hot Rod, Arcee and Springer stood to the side and watched in silence. Chip was still in front of the niche that held Prowl’s body, saying his goodbyes.

Ultra Magnus knew that a human funeral would have been more crowded–but humans were so short-lived: the moment they were born, they were dying. Their lives were defined by the knowledge they’d die and die soon. He supposed it meant they would see the death of another human as a reason to come together to remind themselves they were still there.

Once, there had been a time where it was the same for Cybertronians. But it was long ago.

Sparkplug placed one hand over his heart, and touched his forehead, his abdomen and one arm after another, as Carly finished the lettering. He murmured a prayer asking one of the human gods to grant Ironhide eternal rest (which was probably a nice sentiment for someone who’d been fighting a war for eons) and for perpetual light, which at least was definitely going to be granted, given that Ironhide’s spark was one with the All-Spark. 

Optimus sat Carly on his shoulder, and they stood like that in silence, united in grief over a dead friend. 

The Autobots had not been interring their dead on Cybertron for some time now. Instead, they had built a space barge. Starscream had at one point spent about an hour explaining the symbolic meaning behind it and why the Decepticons should find it offensive, but Megatron hadn’t cared and Galvatron barely recalled the tirade. 

None of this really mattered anyway. What did was that the barge was slow and cumbersome and big. The Revenge caught up with it easily. The Autobots, as foolish as they were, had left a sentry to maintain watch while they interred their dead nonetheless. Sky Lynx lay curled on top of it, like a feline basking in the sun–but the impression of laziness was as deceptive. Just like a feline, Skylynx would spring into action the moment a threat became apparent.

“Kill the engines,” Galvatron said. “We will wait for Prime to leave.”

There was no reason to enter and risk attracting the attention of dead Autobots. Especially ones just recently killed. Galvatron didn’t think he had done anything wrong by shooting Ironhide, but the dead were not reasonable. 

“That’s risky,” Cyclonus replied. “They could run away. We should go in.”

Galvatron growled, irritated by the disrespect. Why was it that his Seconds insisted on arguing and undermining him? “We will do as I say, Cyclonus. Am I clear?”

Cyclonus looked surprised, like he somehow expected no rebuke. At least Starscream knew when to start groveling. 

And then, Galvatron felt a stab of pain. It was everywhere - in his eyes, scrambling his vision; in his audial processors, turning noise into a wall of static; in his haptic sensors, which were not registering anything but pain any more.

+You will not dally,+ Unicron said, in the same bored tone as ever. +Get me the Matrix, now.+

This time Galvatron didn’t argue. He barked the orders for Armada to scramble and go after Sky Lynx. Cyclonus tried to insist that he should be sent too, but this was no time to indulge foolish sentiment. If Armada died, then she died. It didn’t matter as long as she kept Sky Lynx busy. Cyclonus would have to deal.

Armada took off without a word, though Galvatron couldn’t shake off the feeling she disapproved of him, but that was another matter he’d deal with later. For now, they waited until Armada had lured Sky Lynx into a dogfight–then he had Cyclonus land the Revenge in the mausoleum’s docking bay.

They disembarked–the mausoleum lacked the scope and dignity of the Decepticon Hall of Heroes as a resting place for the fallen. The walls of the landing bay were the usual orange that Autobots seemed to paint anything they had built and there were no decorations at all. Galvatron had expected Primes to look down on those entering the domain of the dead, but there was not a single statue in sight. Perhaps they were hidden by the Veil of Remembrance? Still, Galvatron was appalled at the disrespect (yes, that was the feeling. It was absolutely not fear, because they’d entered a space that belonged to the dead, who had all reasons to crave revenge.)

Prime, Ultra Magnus and three other Autobots, accompanied by a group of humans, were just passing through the Veil into the landing bay. They scattered as soon as they noticed Galvatron and his entourage. That was the part where things stopped going according to plan. The Autobot with the flames on his chest did some sort of maneuver in his altmode that ended up with him driving on the ceiling and then landing on one of the Sweeps. The pink and white one rolled into cover and promptly started shooting with concerning accuracy. The green one at least got shot by Cyclonus, forcing the pink one to dive out and pull him with her. The humans simply hid, though Galvatron tried to keep them in mind–the horrid things tended to get ideas and ruin plans when Autobots couldn’t.

Ultra Magnus found cover and dragged Prime behind it, which Galvatron hadn’t planned for. He’d assumed the situation would unfold as usual once Prime was provoked and prepared for a head on charge. 

“Scourge, get Prime,” he barked. “Bring me the Matrix!”

The Sweeps stopped trying to get the Autobot off the idiot who had gotten himself attacked, and started flying towards Prime. Galvatron fired off a few shots for encouragement and as cover for them. Beside him, Cyclonus and Cyberwarp were doing the same. That seemed to be keeping Ultra Magnus and the other two in cover and gave the Sweeps time to grab Prime. 

It was a messy fight–Prime managed to dislodge them the first few times, but eventually they got a hold of him. One had dug his claws into one of Prime’s arms and started pulling, trying to tear off the limb. The others joined.

And that was when Cyclonus stopped shooting. He just stood there, watching. Magnus used the lull in fire to tackle the nearest Sweep, and Galvatron howled in frustration. 

Why couldn’t he ever have a competent second in command?

He turned around and slammed his fist into Cyclonus’s head. Cyclonus stumbled, then turned. He lunged–at Galvatron. 

This time it was more than a sense of wrongness. It was more like vertigo–Cyclonus recognized the way the Prime fought back against the Sweeps. He’d seen someone struggle like that before-

But he’d just been built, it didn’t make sense.

And yet, there was something-

The name Prime sounded familiar too, except- 

Sometimes it was almost like the present was overlapping with- with memory? He remembered a horned figure struggling against- Sharkticons. He remembered Prima trying to fight Sharticons as they ripped her apart. And he hadn’t been able to do anything, only stand by and watch.

Something hit him and suddenly Cyclonus was aware that he wasn’t restrained. Which meant he could fight. It wasn’t really a conscious decision, but rather instinct and rage. He toppled the other Transformer. Grabbed his head and slammed it into the floor. 

With his other hand, he reached for the plate covering the spark chamber. He started pulling.

Decepticon infighting was nothing new. Other Decepticons stopping what they were doing to watch was also nothing new. The fact that there was a distinct lack of jeering and a lot of panic was a change to the usual scenario, but Ultra Magnus wasn’t about to waste an opportunity once it presented itself.

He grabbed the nearest of the identical Decepticons, and tossed him into the wall. The others scattered immediately and broke into a loud quarrel on what to do. The options seemed to be divided between run, hide or run and hide. 

Having determined that the identical Decepticons were currently not a threat, Ultra Magnus turned to check on Optimus, who seemed to be a lot less damaged than one might have expected. Then again, that seemed to be a theme with Primes.

Magnus hadn’t been about to interfere in the fight–he was in fact about to encourage the identical Decepticons to run–except something from the fairly incoherent yelling caught his attention.

The horned Decepticon yelled something about Prima. 

The name seemed familiar… Magnus turned around to watch the fight as he called up one of the old compressed files from his memory archive. It was a long shot–a lot of them had been corrupted, but-

The horned Decepticon’s silhouette was familiar, now that Magnus had decompressed the file: a military hardware model that had been discontinued before Ultra Magnus had been built. Probably. Magnus was unclear on when exactly he had been built. Perhaps the line was still operational at that point.

Nevertheless, the horned Decepticon looked like a leader of a gladiator uprising that had been put down by the Quintessons. They’d then played her death on the screens occasionally, in hopes it would deter others from rebelling. Someone had been yelling the name Prima then too.

“What is going on?” Optimus asked, just as the crowned Decepticon managed to dislodge his opponent and aimed his cannon. The horned Decepticon was not going to evade the shot. He was still down.

The decision took only a fraction of a second. Ultra Magnus fired one of his missiles. It hit the crowned Decepticon’s back and made him stumble. 

“Help me keep them apart,” Magnus said to Optimus, then moved to position himself between the two Decepticons–if he was right, the horned Decepticon would likely try to attack anyone who’d touch him right now, regardless of intention. 

Optimus seemed to grasp Magnus’s intention and approached the other Decepticon, who scrambled backwards. The horned Decepticon picked himself up and looked at Magnus–or rather past him. Whatever his optics were registering likely was not being consciously processed at the moment. 

“Listen to me,” Magnus said. That got the Decepticon to focus on Magnus. “Can you tell me what you see?”

The Decepticon didn’t answer, but he did look around. His stance remained combat ready, but he made no motion to attack or retrieve his gun. If that was a good or a bad sign, Ultra Magnus couldn’t tell, just like he had no way of telling if his hunch as to what was going on was at all correct. 

Behind him, the crowned Decepticon clearly decided he wasn’t going to face Optimus and fled. The identical Decepticons followed suit, encouraged by some shots from Arcee, but the small blue and green one remained. 

She wasn’t aiming her weapon at Magnus though. Just watching him and the horned Decepticon. 

“Do you know where you are?” Magnus asked. 

“The-” the Decepticon started to say and then shook his head. “A space ship?”

He sounded somewhat disoriented, but that was better than completely unresponsive or running berserk. 

“This is the Autobot Mausoleum,” Ultras Magnus replied. “There are no Quintessons here.”

“You have a…” the Decepticon said but trailed off. “You’re military hardware. But you have a consumer good brand.” He shook his head again. “They’re no longer brands.”

“Correct,” Magnus said.

“It’s a terrible choice for marking your political allegiance,” the Decepticon said, sounding a lot more decisive now and very dry. He had a deep voice, deeper than Optimus. 

“You should have voiced your concerns earlier,” Magnus replied. His hunch had been correct then–the Decepticon had been built by Quintessons. 

“I would have, if I could,” the Decepticon said. “I- I don’t have time for this nonsense. You’re all going with me.”

“Not without an explanation,” Optimus said firmly. “And I am certainly not handing the Matrix over to you.”

“I don’t want it!” the horned Decepticon snapped, then looked at Optimus and Magnus for a moment. Then he looked behind them–at Arcee, Hot Rod and Springer who’d joined them. When the Decepticon started speaking again, he sounded less angry, although not exactly less impassioned. Magnus wondered if this was just because of the specific circumstances he was in now, or if he was one those people who didn’t come with a low setting. “I don’t know all the details. After the Quintessons killed Prima, they kept some of us alive. They removed our sparks and merged them somehow into one. I think they kept on doing it, until something went wrong, but by then the merged sparks gained a consciousness of their own. He calls himself Unicron.”

“That sounds pretty crazy,” Hot Rod said. Tactless, as Hot Rod sometimes was, but also not exactly unreasonable. “And what are Quintessons?”

“Monsters,” Magnus said, “that we’ve beaten long ago. They’re nothing but a bad memory now.” He frowned, as he mulled over what the Decepticon had said. “But what he is saying does sound plausible for them. They made experiments like this.”

“What are your names?” Optimus asked, as he looked at the two Decepticons. 

“Cyclonus,” the horned Decepticon said. “And that’s Cyberwarp.” He indicated the small Decepticon. “There’s also Armada–she’s still engaged with the dragon-bot. Can you call him off?”

“He says he’ll bring her to the landing bay in one piece,” Optimus said after a moment. “In the meantime, I have some questions about what you said so far. Starting with the Quintessons. What are they? Why were we fighting them?”

Cyclonus looked at Magnus with an outraged expression. “Why don’t they know?!”

“Because it’s not worth remembering,” Magnus replied. Remembering them would be like giving them ownership of a part of him, and he was not going let them claim anymore of him than they had already taken.

Cyclonus shook his head and turned to Optimus. “They’re our creators. They built robot slaves to sell or lease them, and to entertain them.”

“Magnus?” Optimus said. 

“It’s true,” Magnus replied, knowing that it meant he and Optimus would likely have words on the subject. 

“Who was Prima?” Optimus asked.

“She was a Prime, like you,” Cyclonus said. “And she led us to rebel against the Quintessons. We failed.”

For a moment, the anger and outrage faded from his voice and demeanor, and Cyclonus simply looked defeated.

“Not entirely,” Ultra Magnus said. “They used to broadcast her execution and the list of her rebellion’s crimes. They thought it’d stop us from fighting them again, but all they showed us was that it was possible.”

“And then you forgot about us,” Cyclonus said, glaring at Ultra Magnus. 

“Cyclonus, um… you might have to put off being angry at him for later?” Cyberwarp said in a tone of chiding exasperation. 

“We will talk about this later,” Cyclonus said, jabbing a finger against Magnus’s chassis. “Not all of us were killed. Some of us were caught. The Quintessons eventually moved the nascent Unicron away from Cybertron. I… think it was probably when they figured out they’d lose Cybertron. They never brought him to Quintessa.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not entirely clear on what happened next. Unicron escaped and made Quintessa his target. But he thinks he’s too weak to bring vengeance to them–he’s been devouring things to make himself stronger. First it was just space ships, then asteroids and now planets. He wants to eat Cybertron next. I think he wants to add the sparks of all those on Cybertron to his own too.”

“And the Matrix?” Optimus said. “If he believes that he can use the Matrix to wreak destruction like this, he is wrong. It will reject him.”

“He’s afraid of it,” Cyberwarp said. 

“That’s why he rebuilt Megatron into Galvatron, instead of eating him,” Cyclonus said.

“That makes sense,” Hot Rod scoffed. “Old Buckethead never managed to kill Optimus, so he’s obviously the right person to send to do it.”

“He did kill Sentinel Prime,” Ultra Magnus said. “You shouldn’t underestimate him.”

“Sentinel was Prima’s successor?” Cyclonus asked. 

“Eventually,” Ultra Magnus said. He then turned to Optimus. “I think he’s telling the truth. Quintessons were… a lot like Airachnid and Shockwave, if that explains it.”

Optimus nodded. “He is telling the truth. The Matrix recognizes him.” He paused. “Can you tell me what Mega- Galvatron did so far? Did he come here as soon as Unicron rebuilt him?”

“No,” Cyclonus said. “His initial plan had been different.”

And, as it turned out, had had exactly the same flaws as many of Megatron’s other plans. As clever as he was, Megatron had one crucial flaw as a leader: he did not care for his soldiers and as a consequence, was incapable of recognizing their strengths and weaknesses.

“Amazing,” Optimus Prime said in a tone that was half-dry and half-impressed. Now that Cyclonus was looking at him and Ultra Magnus side-by-side, he realized why he had thought initially Optimus Prime looked like military hardware–he’d been built or rebuilt with Ultra Magnus as a guideline. “Somehow, Megatron made so many choices and not one of them was a good one.”

He didn’t sound like Prima most of the time, but this comment was very much like her. Was this wry sense of humour something that the Matrix of Leadership preserved too? Cyclonus wished he hadn’t made the connection. This was the wrong time for grief, no matter how strong it was, no matter how terrible it felt that Prima was gone, that almost everyone else was gone. 

The smaller bot with flames painted over his chest snorted and unsuccessfully tried to stop himself from laughing at the comment, and the green wounded bot and the pink and white one joined him. Ultra Magnus appeared to find it also amusing. The dragon bot–Sky Lynx–snorted openly. He’d arrived when Cyclonus had been explaining Galvatron’s actions. Armada limped in after him, nursing a badly damaged wing. 

Cyberwarp patted Cyclonus’s upper leg and Armada sent a ping at Cyclonus. At least some things were the same, even if it was Armada refusing to speak. It was still comforting. 

“No, not one,” Cyclonus said, and tried not to think about how angry Galvatron was making him. How he had just accepted being called Lord. Like he had earned respect, like he deserved it. Like he had the right to replace Prima. Cyclonus still wanted to rip out his spark chamber. Maybe he’d have his chance. “Unicron will probably want Galvatron and the Sweeps to protect him. Scourge isn’t a very strong leader, so I think if it looks too dangerous the Sweeps will run.”

Optimus Prime nodded. “Megatron was not one to risk his life for any cause until recently,” he said. “I do not know how much Unicron has changed him, so we should prepare for the possibility that he does stay and fight.”

“And then make sure the corpse is incinerated, in case he finds another Quintesson monstrosity to revive him,” Hot Rod added. “Just in case.”

Cyclonus grinned at him. “I like that idea.”

Armada sent him another ping. 

“Yes, I know we have priorities, Armada,” Cyclonus added. 

“We do,” Optimus Prime said. “Do you know if we can free the other sparks that were used to create Unicron?”

“No,” Cyclonus said. He hadn’t even considered that it could be done, but Unicron could split the sparks from himself after all, so it should be possible. “Maybe? I’m still me. I don't feel any different than- I think it should be possible.”

“I see,” Optimus Prime said. “Carly, Chip, Sparkplug - I need you to go back to Autobot City and get Perceptor. Ultra Magnus, see if you can raise Skyfire.We will need one of them. Hot Rod, see if you can reach anyone on Cybertron. Sky Lynx, we will need to head out right now.”

Armada tapped her damaged wing urgently.

“Armada can’t fly at top speed like that,” Cyclonus said. 

“Sky-Lynx?” Optimus Prime asked.

“I am nothing if not gracious and magnanimous,” Sky-Lynx replied, “and will permit her to travel inside me.”

Chapter Text

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

(Rachel Platten, Fight Song )

Occasionally, Shockwave would catch an Autobot transmission. Sometimes, in fact, he’d catch a transmission because a specific Autobot wanted him to hear it. Constructing Hot Rod remained one his biggest regrets, and not only because it had led to Shockwave being subjected to what he’d learned was called a rick-roll, but it was a significant contributing fact.

This time however Shockwave found himself wishing it had been a human song on loop. 

It was Jazz, calling Autobot city for help from one of the Autobot moon bases. About the same time, his monitoring screens had switched to showing the recordings from the Decepticon moon bases, as they were being destroyed. 

The giant planet that had appeared in Cybertron’s orbit was devouring the first moon. About the same time, the second Autobot transmission started. The human and Bumblebee were sending a more detailed report, but that wasn’t it. They were going to rig up explosives to hopefully damage the planet eater significantly enough to disable it. 

Shockwave mused with some disconcert that it meant Autobots must have been sitting on concerningly large caches of explosives. 

Shockwave switched one of his screens to show a transmission from a monitoring satellite and watched the Autobot ship flee the moon. He saw the explosion engulf the planet eater, and once the smoke cleared, he saw that it was undamaged. It pulled back the Autobot ship with a tractor beam and devoured it too.

For a moment, Shockwave stood still and stared at the screen. Absurdly, illogically, he wished the transmission had been one of Hot Rod’s fake ones instead. Then, as if waking up from stasis, he brought up the readings that were sent along with the transmissions. He studied them for some time, until finally he reached a conclusion.

Cybertron was a depleted husk, true. But it was a husk Shockwave had been safe-guarding for eons. His duty had not ended with Megatron’s death. And so, Shockwave would do what was necessary–and make sure so did the other Decepticons.

The situation had devolved into panic. It was an unfortunate fact that a lot of Decepticons, if presented with a crisis and no firm hand to guide them, would react by running in circles and shouting. Currently, there was no firm hand. Megatron was dead and Galvatron was not present on Cybertron–Shockwave did not have enough data to confirm if his claims to be Megatron but rebuilt were truthful or a trick at giving himself legitimacy. Galvatron’s second in command was with him.

Shockwave was not about to wait for them to return. If they would. Escaping Cybertron just as a rogue sentient planet had devoured the moons did not point to Galvatron having the intention to protect Cybertron. Shockwave found his choice disappointing. Well. He was not going to abandon the planet over which they had been fighting an endless war for millions of years.

“Shadow Striker,” he said, “get their attention.”

Shadow Striker nodded and raised her gun. She fired one shot, and then yelled, “Useless batch of rusty bolts! Shut up and listen!”

The effect was immediate. Heads turned, like a wave. There was some whispering.

“We are in a crisis,” Shockwave said. He was not Megatron. He was not charismatic. But he did not need to be. All he needed to be was calm, collected and give clear orders. In a situation like this, what truly mattered was the appearance of being in control. “There is a solution. We will contact Elita One and propose a truce.”

“We’re not gonna team up with any Autobots!” Misfire shouted. 

Shockwave expected this to happen. A number of Decepticons were illogical and emotion-driven, and there was no time for debate. He raised his gun and fired. Misfire yelped and curled up, holding his midsection in pain. 

“Irrational behavior will not be tolerated,” Shockwave said. “We will do what is necessary. Cybertron is in danger and we will preserve it. If you’d rather doom the planet we have been fighting over, argue or cower, you are welcome to leave or let Shadow Striker do target practice on you.” 

As expected, there were those who took the opportunity to leave. And naturally, there was someone who thought they could take Shadow Striker on. Fangry took out his gun, but that was as far as he got. Before he could react, Sixshot grabbed it and lifted both Fangry and the gun. He swung Fangry around and slammed him into the floor.

“Can we get to the suicide mission before this thing decides to eat Cybertron?” he asked. “Not all of us have the patience to listen to you blab Shockwave.”

Not many would think Moonracer had the patience to sit in hiding and watch a situation unfold. She was young, energetic and brash, but she was also a sniper. A very good one and that required patience. 

So, she’d taken her position, and watched Shockwave and four other Decepticons enter the old plaza. Shadow Striker was directly next to Shockwave, scanning the area. Sixshot simply looked around and leaned against a wall. Sparkstalker was pacing, but not looking around. He was more impatient than nervous. Astrotrain, on the other hand, was clearly on edge. He’d picked a spot from which he could easily move into cover.

“She won’t come,” he said after a moment. 

“Incorrect,” Shockwave said. “She is already here.” Nothing happened. “The fate of Cybertron depends on our actions and you know that neither the Decepticons nor the Autobots will stop this planet-eater on their own, Elita One.”

Moonracer waited. Shockwave had a point, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap.

“As a show of goodwill, I will give over Kaon’s stores of energon as collateral,” Shockwave continued.

That was unexpected. 

“You will also sign a treaty.” But unexpected wasn’t going to cut it. 

Shockwave didn’t answer right away. “What will the Prime say, once he finds out you’re making decisions of this magnitude without him?” he finally said. 

+Oh Elita! You’re so smart and amazing, let me hold your hand and gaze at you adoringly for hours, probably,+ Chromia commented dryly.

“Don’t stall Shockwave,” Elita said. “You will sign a treaty. Or do you want to wait until the next threat of this magnitude shows up at our doorstep to do it?”

“A logical point,” Shockwave said.  “Very well then. I will sign a treaty.”

As he finished speaking, several more Decepticons entered the plaza, a cart with energon cubes between them.

They’d eventually moved from the plaza inside one of the buildings. A long time ago, it had been a security operations office. Now it was gutted, the transformation mechanisms that governed furniture and other accommodations long broken. But it was neutral ground, and it’d serve as a place to finalize their plans. 

It was going as smoothly as any planning involving Decepticons. In fact, it seemed like some of them had gotten even worse than they had been back when Chromia had to work with them. 

“You have an imploder,” Shadow Striker said, sounding incredulous. 

“Aren’t you glad now we’re not Decepticons who would have used it?” Elita One replied.

Shadow Striker’s expression was a sight to behold. She clearly wanted to disagree, but was very aware that had they used it, she would be dead and they would have no way of stopping the planet-eater. 

“No,” Astrotrain grumbled. “I don’t want to carry an imploder. What if it blows up?”

“Correction,” Shockwave said primly. “It is an imploder. It does not ex plode. It im plodes.”

Astrotrain didn’t look like the knowledge helped ease his anxiety at all.

“Well, then you’ll have to hurry up and make sure you’re inside the thing before it does, huh?” Sixshot said.

“I hate you all,” Astrotrain said. 

“You don’t have to like us,” Elita One said. “But you realize that the fate of Cybertron depends on you, don’t you Astrotrain?” Astrotrain fidgeted. “And it’s understandable that you’re afraid. None of us wants to die, but this is the only chance we have. Nothing else will work.”

“If we could deploy Seekers as an escort it’d also increase Astrotrains chances,” Shockwave said, looking at Slipstream pointedly. “But it seems other than a handful of defectors, all the others are gone.”

“Well,” Slipstream said. “I suppose I could do something about it. Since we’re in the same boat as defectors who don’t want Cybertron to be eaten, hm Shockwave?”

“You are referring to the fact that I decided not to risk being executed when Starscream took over,” Shockwave said. “Our situation is not the same, but I will acknowledge it is broadly similar. And of course, if you were to help us protect Cybertron, others would find themselves equally understanding of your choices.”

Astrotrain sighed. “If Slipstream gets the Seekers to come, do I still get to complain?”

“If it helps you fly, you can compose a ballad about how much you hate it, for all I care,” Chromia said.

The Sweeps couldn’t pin-point the moment when they had realized that running had been a mistake. It wasn’t when they boarded the Revenge–they had been too panicked then. It might have been when Galvatron had clutched his head and started screaming in pain. Or possibly when the head-clutching and screaming didn’t stop after half an hour. Different components of the hive arrived at the conclusion at different moments, so the collective just slowly formed the impression of having jumped out of a volcano into a supernova. 

So they did what they usually did in a situation like this, which was form a huddle and argue. Being a collective wasn’t the same as existing in harmony, after all. The components had their own ideas, their personalities and so, they argued. 

“He should go back,” Sweep Two hissed. “Tell him to go back, Scourge.”

“No,” Scourge hissed back, just as Galvatron started yelling in pain again. “I’m not Cyclonus, I’m not going to try and argue with him. He’ll just hit me.”

“Besides, he made Unicron angry,” Sweep Three added. “And that means Unicron is angry with us too, so how about we don’t get near Unicron?”

“Why isn’t he torturing us?” Sweep Five asked.

The collective turned to look at Galvatron, who was half-spread over the controls of the Revenge and alternating between groaning and yelling in pain. Scourge stared at him for a moment, cycling through spectra and sensors until he finally saw what was going on. There was a net of increased heat over various sensitive systems–hot enough to likely be causing some damage. 

A disruptor net–that was what it was called. They’d been designed by Quintessons to control their slaves.

“Looks like a disruptor net,” Scourge said, very deliberately trying not to think about who the Quintessons were or who the slaves they were controlling had been. “I guess Unicron didn’t install one in any of us.”

“Why though?” Sweep Five persisted.

“Maybe because he can’t?” Sweep Three replied. 

“You mean, Megatron had one before?” Scourge asked. “He was built long after the Quintessons, though. Who’d have installed one in him?”

The Sweeps looked at each other, each one of them coming to the same conclusion–Megatron must have been built by the Quintessons after all.

“Why would they do it?” Sweep Five asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to know, let’s pretend we never figured this out,” Scourge said quickly. Because if they didn’t pretend… No. It was safer to ignore this. Sleeping Sharkticons should not be woken. 

It was best to just get away from Cybertron as far as possible, and stay away from Unicron. Running into danger with no odds of survival was something others could do. The Sweeps would take possible survival over an unwinnable fight.

Sky Lynx’s interior melted away into an endless corridor–it’d take some time before they got to Cybertron, so Optimus used the opportunity to reach into the Matrix and find out if the previous Primes had any advice. 

The corridor stretched into the distance with no end in sight. Alpha Trion had had a number of theories on what it represented, but when Optimus had seen it for the first time, all it reminded him of was history and its hidden mysteries.

One such mystery were the origins of the Matrix. Perhaps, if one plunged deep enough, they’d be revealed, but this type of curiosity carried a risk with it. The deeper you went, the likelier you were to lose yourself. 

It had not been a problem for Optimus so far–he’d accepted the guides who’d come to advise him in the time of need so far: his predecessor Sentinel and a few times Zeta. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Perhaps he should have looked further into the past.

Perhaps. 

“We didn’t know about Unicron,” his guide said. She had a low voice and her manner of speaking had an intensity similar to Cyclonus. Her silhouette was very much like that of Cyclonus and Armada, even without the wings and with the horns on her helmet being visibly curved and obviously horns. 

“You are Prima?” Optimus asked. 

“Yes,” Prima replied. 

“And you do not know how to free the sparks trapped inside Unicron?” Optimus asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Prima replied. “We didn’t know about Unicron, but that doesn’t mean we don’t understand what the Quintessons did.” She paused. “Have you ever been part of an angry crowd? Felt the fury of others around you and let it feed your own? It’s very hard to stay in control of yourself. And now imagine if there’s no boundaries between your spark and those of others. And all of you are so so very hurt, and scared, and angry.”

Optimus nodded slowly. 

“But look at Cyclonus, Armada and Cyberwarp,” Prima said. “Outside of Unicron, they are themselves. They are not driven by their pain and anger. They can control themselves.”

“They don’t want to destroy everything in their paths just to get to their final goal,” Optimus said. 

“Exactly,” Prima replied. “The same will be true for many of those who were made into Unicron. Joined inside him, they cannot tell where their pain and anger, and fear ends. But if you can quiet those, they will be able to remember themselves and break free.” 

“Things are rarely as straightforward as this,” Optimus said wryly. “What is the catch?”

For a moment, Prima seemed to be confused by the human idiom. But then, she seemed to parse what he meant. “You’re right. They’re sparks without bodies. Once they break free, they will need bodies. Or some other form of containment, until you can build bodies for them. Otherwise, they will scatter. Some might die, some will just be lost in space.”

“I hope we will be able to prevent that,” Optimus said. Perceptor and Skyfire might be able to come up with a solution to this problem.

The computing power required to act as a hub of a Seeker swarm was something else. Originally, Starscream ended up in the position because he had already increased his computing power for astrophysical calculations, rather than merit. It had been, therefore, a matter of adding new software, rather than retrofitting him.

It was not the case with Slipstream–and so, she had to let Shockwave and Lancer upgrade her battle computer, so that it could take the strain. The experience was hard to describe–the amount of tactical decisions she could make increased to a completely new level, while the time it took her to make them had decreased equally significantly.

And then, there was the point when she’d linked up with the other Seekers, their battle computers syncing up with her own. They weren’t exactly a proper swarm anymore, but even fifteen Seekers working as a whole were a significant threat.

Their goal was simple: cover Astrotrain until he could board the planet-eater. Or it had seemed so–but as always things turned out to be more complicated than one originally assumed. They had expected some sort of defense from the planet-eater: maybe more servants like Cyclonus and Scourge, or even simple defense drones. But what happened was different. 

The planet-eater had transformed. Their new shape bore some similarities to the Sweeps: winged, clawed and bearded. But their wings were skeletal–potentially weapons? And they had horns. 

They swiped their massive arms, trying to hit the Seekers. But Slipstream saw it coming, and they dodged nimbly. The hit landed on Cybertron instead, tearing a new deep furrow in its surface and scattering debris into space. The Seekers used the opportunity to close the distance and start shooting. It didn’t appear to be causing any damage, but it was distracting the planet-eater, forcing them to try and attack Seekers and diverting their attention from Astrotrain, until it was too late. 

There were casualties though–Sunstorm got to close to the planet-eaters mouth and disappeared inside. Wheezing Arrow, Nova Storm and Hooligan didn’t manage to dodge another massive swipe. It did little to Nova Storm–she had in fact left a dent in the planet-eaters arm, but Wheezing Arrow and Hooligan weren’t indestructible like her. 

And then, Astrotrain rammed into the planet-eater’s eye. The Seekers scattered. It was out of their hands now–they’d have to wait and hope.

Chapter Text

Sum of all, and by them, driven

(The Humbling River, Puscifier)

Unicron wasn’t devouring Cybertron when they reached it. He had transformed into a horned giant with skeletal wings. It probably would have been more intimidating, if his face hadn’t looked that much like that of the Sweeps. Still, the deep furrows in the surface of Cybertron matched Unicron’s claws, and that was deeply concerning. It meant he’d attacked it at one point already, but stopped for some reason. A clue as to why was fairly plain to see–one of Unicron’s eyes was broken, as if someone had rammed through it. 

“Fear not!” Sky Lynx announced. “My superior flying will get us inside. Just follow me and learn!”

“Are you always this annoying?” Cyclonus grumbled.

“Jealousy is understandable in the presence of greatness,” Sky Lynx replied. 

Cyclonus decided not to comment, given that clearly no matter what he said, Sky Lynx would remain insufferably full of himself. 

“I think our friend here is simply grumpy by nature, rather than jealous, Sky Lynx,” someone commented in an amused voice, as a white shuttle joined them. “I heard you needed a scientist.”

“Ah, Skyfire!” Sky Lynx said. “I suppose not everyone can be as gracious and good-natured as I am.”

“I’d rather eat my own spark chamber,” Cyclonus said.

It was then that Unicron turned in their direction. He swung one massive arm and they had to scatter–Sky Lynx on one side and Cyclonus and Skyfire on another. Unicron swiped his arm, clearly targeting Sky Lynx, but it seemed like Sky Lynx was actually as good a flier as he had boasted. He dodged and weaved, outrunning the attacks, while Cyclonus and Skyfire continued mostly without attracting Unicron’s attention.

It was only once they were at Unicron’s face level that he deigned to notice them. The only warning they got was the remaining eye lighting up, and then a beam shot out. Cyclonus veered sharply, losing sight of Skyfire for a moment. Then Sky Lynx shot past them and through Unicron’s intact eye. 

Cyclonus followed, and so did Skyfire. The flight didn’t get easier once they were inside–there were spikes on the inside walls, which they had to avoid at first, and then some sort of auto-defense system triggered and activated claw-tipped tentacles. 

Finally, they reached an area where they could land and Sky Lynx could open a ramp. Optimus and his team, along with Armada and Cyberwarp got out.

“What are we looking for?” Skyfire asked.

“There has to be a spark-chamber and some mechanism keeping the sparks merged in there,” Optimus Prime replied.

“Mmm.” Skyfire nodded and stood still for a moment. Then he pointed towards one of the tunnels. “That way. My readings indicate there should be something like a concentration sparks in that direction.”

“Clearly, the villain knows to fear me,” Sky Lynx said, looking at the tunnel with disapproval. “He made his tunnels too small for me to fit in. But do not fear! I shall distract him from the outside and once you need a way out, I’ll be there!” With that, he took back off.

“And it’s the corridor with the most welcoming decor,” Ultra Magnus observed in a very tired voice, as he looked at the tunnel Skyfire pointed out. “How surprising.”

“Aww, you don’t like the gloomy spiky thing?” Hot Rod asked, grinning. “I mean it’s a bit cliché…”

“I think it’s not trying hard enough,” Cyclonus observed dryly, as they followed Skyfire. “It could use some tortured screaming to set the mood.”

The banter came surprisingly easily, even though he didn’t know either of them. But the sense that he had to be constantly on guard that he’d had with the Decepticons was gone. The closest he’d had to that sort of conversation had been with Knock Out, and even then, there had been this sense of Knock Out wanting to keep distance. 

Cyclonus never managed to arrive at any further conclusions–someone screamed at that point. It sounded more terrified than tortured. Armada tapped the back of Cyclonus’s helm and when he turned around to face her, put her hand over his mouth. Then another voice joined in, and that caused Optimus Prime to stop. 

“Jazz?” he said, then addressed Hot Rod. “Hot Rod, Arcee and Springer, can you find whoever is screaming there?”

“Cyberwarp, go with them,” Cyclonus said, pushing Armada’s hand away. Some of the corridors they passed had been quite small, which meant Armada was out. Cyberwarp may not have had the firepower, but she was resourceful. 

Hot Rod transformed and sped off with Cyberwarp perched on top of him. Arcee and Springer followed. Ultra Magnus watched them with a pensive expression for a while, until Optimus Prime said, “They'll be fine.”

There had been more clawed tentacles on the way, though they seemed to be guarding only specific areas. Cyberwarp held onto Hot Rod’s roof with one hand and kept shooting with the other, while Hot Rod zigged and zagged at staggering speed. 

Well, staggering for Cyberwarp, whose altmode had been built for stealth and not for speed. She was fairly certain Cyclonus or Armada would find it positively sluggish.

“Hold on tight, I’m going to try something,” Hot Rod said, slowing down. Arcee and Springer shot past them. Cyberwarp subspaced her gun and grabbed his roof with both hands, just in time for a sudden burst of speed. There was a roar behind them, and when she turned her head, Cyberwarp saw that Hot Rod’s exhausts were spewing fire. 

It lasted for only a little bit, but long enough for them to enter what seemed to be a safe zone. 

“Whew, I didn’t know if that’d work,” Hot Rod announced, sounding far too cheerful for someone making this type of an admission. “Cool, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Cyberwarp replied. “I think you signed my foot.”

“Sorry!” Hot Rod replied. “I guess I’ll need to practice before I do that again.”

“Hot Rod! Help!” someone yelled. Hot Rod transformed, while Cyberwarp jumped down from his roof and looked up. There was a vat in the middle of the chamber. A conveyor line with claws led into it. It was transporting Transformers and some sort of organic creature in a white exo-suit to drop them into the vat. Cyberwarp doubted it was to drop them into a nice pool for a swim.

“Hold on!” Hot Rod yelled. “We have to close the cover for this thing! I’ll do the left one, Cyberwarp, Arcee, shoot the right one.”

The cover consisted of two halves, each with two supports that held it open. Hot Rod aimed both of his arms at one of the supports. Springer transformed from a car into a helicopter and took off towards the conveyor line. Cyberwarp removed her gun from her subspace pocket, as did Arcee, and they aimed at the one on the other side. They shot almost simultaneously. Hot Rod’s support broke first, so he transformed and sped to the other side of the vat, so he could shoot the other support. But it proved to be unnecessary. The other support bent and crumbled under the weight of the cover. It fell with a loud thump. 

The claws kept on dropping their cargo–but with the heat-resistant cover in place, they landed safely and could get down.

Unicron’s spark chamber was enormous. It was also quite obviously built to allow for others to move inside it, with a balcony encircling it in the middle and scaffoldings extending around the walls. The spark itself was contained inside some sort of a field that was being projected from two emitters. 

They weren’t the first to arrive in Unicron’s spark chamber. There was a group in front of it, forming a rough semi-circle. First, Ultra Magnus recognized Astrotrain, which explained Unicron’s broken eye. Astrotrain must have rammed it to get in, just like Sky Lynx had the other one. Then, he stopped for a moment, because he noticed that next to Astrotrain there was Elita. Had she been taken captive? Then he saw several other members of her team–all of them just as armed as the Decepticons with them. Though, to his surprise, no one seemed to be firing any of the weapons.

Would could have prompted them to cooperate despite all odds? Was it perhaps the giant planet eating monstrosity? And here Ultra Magnus had thought such an event would require a whole fleet of those, and a decree from Primus himself. 

Clearly, the miracle had not been complete, though–the group in front of Magnus was having a very lively argument.

“There has to be a way to free them,” Lancer said. 

“We don’t have time!” Shadow Striker snapped. “You can build them a memorial or something later, but this thing wants to eat Cybertron!”

“All of this is really unnecessary,” another speaker said, whom Ultra Magnus couldn’t see and whose voice he didn’t recognize. “As I said, Unicron is willing to graciously leave you alone-”

“Hey, Sideways, right?” Doom Siren said, her voice more distorted more than usual. “You said your piece, now it’s our time to decide what we do. Will you shut up, or shall I sing a song for you?”

“Now, there’s no need for threats,” Sideways said. 

“Yeah, so, like I said - let’s blow this up, before this Unicron changes its mind and eats Cybertron,” Shadow Striker said.

“He won’t do anything as long as we can set off the imploder,” Elita replied coolly. “This means we do have time to do the right thing, and not the easy thing. The end result will be the same–the planet-eater will be destroyed and we won’t have killed who knows how many sparks to get rid of it.”

“Do we want to free them, though?” Sixshot said. “Look at it pragmatically. We don’t have resources to take in who knows how many newbuilds, and we don’t know how this whole thing has affected them. They might as well be completely insane, for all we know.”

“What about your leader’s retinue?” Sideways asked. “They were part of Unicron–were they insane?”

“Cyclonus and Scourge seemed pretty sane to me,” Astrotrain said. “Dunno about Armada, and I still think the little one is a psychopath pretending to be nice, but-”

“Whose side are you on, Astrotrain?” Shadow Striker snapped.

“Well, if we don’t explode the imploder then we get out alive!” Astrotrain protested. “And I’d rather not die. So we maybe shouldn’t be looking for reasons to die, but rather not to die?”

Sparkstalker made a disgusted noise, possibly at having realized that he somehow ended up in a situation where Astrotrain was the voice of reason. Or because imploders didn’t explode.

“I think we can help with that,” Optimus said. Elita whirled around instantly, her expression melting into a wide grin. Lancer, Chromia and Doom Siren also relaxed, while Sixshot bristled and Shadow Striker muttered something offensive about Autobots. Astrotrain actually looked quite relieved.

“Exactly how?” Sparkstalker asked.

“I think I can use the Matrix of Leadership,” Optimus replied. “But if I do, the sparks will be scattered.”

“Then they’re scattered!” Shadow Striker snapped. “As long as you fragging do something to get rid of the thing!”

“You could let Unicron go,” Sideways said. “He will leave Cybertron alone. He just wants to get to Quintessa. They want to get to Quintessa.”

Meanwhile, Skyfire had edged slowly closer to one of the emitters for the containment fields and had been examining them for a while now. Then, he keyed something quickly into one of the monitors. The containment field flickered off. 

“The containment field might have held this together for some time, but by now, Unicron’s spark can remain cohesive without it,” he said. “Maybe the Matrix could tell them where to go?”

“There should be a data-center storing the mind-patterns of everyone contained in here,” Cyclonus said. “That works for temporary containment, right?”

“Do you really want that Cyclonus?” Sideways asked, as they stepped out from behind Astrotrain and Sixshot. They were about the size of Chromia, but purple and yellow, with features to their design that marked them as a non-Cybertronian Transformer. Someone from one of the ancient Autobots colonies, likely. “Betray those like you? Those forgotten by Cybertron and cast aside by Quintessons?”

“Don’t you dare!” Cyclonus shouted back. “You want to talk about betrayal?! How about erasing my memories and making me believe I’m loyal to a pathetic sniveling coward? How is that for betrayal?!”

“Out of all people, I’d think you’d be able to overlook this, Cyclonus,” the other bot said. “Isn’t that what Prima wanted? Vengeance?”

“How would you know what she wanted? You weren’t there,” Cyclonus snapped. “We would have killed every Quintesson, yes, but we rebelled because we didn’t want to continue killing each other. Unicron clearly doesn’t care about that-” He turned his head to glare at the present Decepticons. “-and neither do you, but that doesn’t mean every single spark trapped in there is like that. Don’t they get a choice?”

To Ultra Magnus’s surprise Astrotrain actually looked like the part about not caring hit home. Sixshot and Shadow Striker both bristled. Sparkstalker was the only one to shrug the comment off completely.

“You can free them, so please, just do it,” Cyclonus said, turning towards Optimus. 

“This is why we came here,” Optimus said. “Let me get closer to the sparks.”

The Decepticons and Autobots moved out of his way. Sideways was the only one left. For a moment they stood facing each other–Optimus towering over Sideways with Ultra Magnus close behind him and Elita having taken a spot on his other side. Cyclonus moved to stand slightly behind Ultra Magnus. 

Sideways sized up each and every one of them, one by one. Then they shook their head.

“No, this isn’t worth my life,” they said, stepping aside. They glanced at the giant spark and said, “Our deal is over–the Prime can end you, so my world will be safe from you either way.”

The giant spark rippled and a smaller one peeled off  it. It sank into the floor and a body started rising from the metal–a featureless face first, then the rest. Once it was fully grown, it would have been bigger than Ultra Magnus. But before that could happen, Optimus’s spark chamber had opened. He took out the Matrix, already glowing brilliant blue-white. It illuminated Unicron’s spark. 

Slowly, a patch of blue started spreading over its electric green surface. Something like a coronal mass ejection of a sun formed, and more sparks peeled away. The blue light spread over the green, washing it away. More and more sparks were breaking away, until all of a sudden, the giant ball of light fell apart completely.

The light of the Matrix changed direction then, forming a path. Most of the sparks followed it, but a few of them simply remained where they were and started dissipating. 

Around them, Unicron began turning a lifeless gunmetal gray. The partially formed body collapsed on itself. Immediately afterwards, Cyclonus transformed and flew after the sparks towards the data center. 

Armada made to follow him, but stopped giving her damaged wing an angry look. She then turned towards Skyfire and grabbed his hand. 

“Help him,” she said urgently. 

“I’ll keep them safe,” Skyfire said to her solemnly. She let him go then, and Skyfire sped away.

Just then one of the walls started crumbling under its own weight. 

+Hot Rod!+ Ultra Magnus broadcast. +Get out! Now!+

+What about you?+ Hot Rod replied.

Just as Ultra Magnus was about to reply, a wall melted. Sky Lynx’s head peeked in through the hole and then he flew in, transforming. “Get in!”

“Hot Rod’s still inside,” Ultra Magnus replied. 

“We’ll catch him,” Optimus said, pushing Ultra Magnus towards Sky Lynx. They boarded Sky Lynx, Unicron’s speaker dashing ahead of them to the relative safety of Astrotrain’s cargo hold. Sky Lynx took off, closely followed by Astrotrain, but the moment they were out, the Decepticon shot towards Cybertron. 

Sky Lynx headed up, dodging bits of Unicron that were breaking off, exposing the inner structure. Suddenly, Sky Lynx dove towards one of such holes–once he got closer, Ultra Magnus saw Hot Rod waving. Sky Lynx landed, and the rest of Magnus’s team boarded with Jazz, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper and Spike.

“Hurry up,” Sky Lynx said, “This place is falling apart, and even my superior flying won’t help us if you fall. I don’t think I can call Skyfire or this Cyclonus fellow to help either–they just flew past.”

Then, once everyone was on board, Sky Lynx closed the boarding ramp and dove towards Cybertron too.

Chapter Text

And together we'll cross the river (The Humbling River, Puscifier)

Soundwave and Shockwave looked at one another, separated by a containment field: Soundwave in a cell, Shockwave outside in one of the hallways of Autobot City. He did not manage to see much of it–he’d been escorted straight to Soundwave by Arcee and Springer. A logical choice: Arcee on her own was threat enough and with a triple-changer, she’d pose a significant danger to Shockwave. They were standing a few meters away, watching and listening, as Shockwave explained what had happened during Soundwave’s captivity. 

Soundwave remained silent and immobile, showing no reaction to any of the news.

“I will speak to the infiltration troopers too,” Shockwave said, once he explained Unicron’s destruction and Galvatron’s desertion. 

Soundwave didn’t release them right away. Instead, he sat still for a few seconds, before finally opening his docking station.

“Woohoo! Breakout!” Frenzy yelled and charged at the containment field. He collided with it and fell down. “Ugh, really, you’re the worst breakout, Shockwave.”

“Yeah! You’re a useless nerd!” Rumble yelled. “Nerd!”

Lazerbeak meanwhile pecked Soundwave’s head none too gently and flew away to sit in a corner of the cell facing backwards to everyone in a very clear display of disapproval. Ravage lay down on top of Ratbat who let out an indignant yelp. Wingthing landed on Soundwave’s shoulder and endeavored to look disdainful.

“Cease this nonsense,” Shockwave said. “You are Decepticons and you will behave like Decepticons.”

“Ooo! Who am I gonna punch?” Frenzy asked, all but bouncing with excitement at the prospect of violence.

“No one presently,” Shockwave said. “The Autobots and Decepticons have signed a treaty. All hostilities are to cease immediately.”

“Megatron would never agree to a treaty,” Soundwave said, rising.

“Megatron no longer exists,” Shockwave replied. “Unicron rebuilt him into Galvatron, and Galvatron ran when Cybertron was in danger. He has lost the support of the Seekers, and failed to gain the loyalty of Cyclonus, Armada and Cyberwarp for the Decepticons, proving himself incapable of leading.”

“Semantics,” Soundwave replied. “Galvatron is Megatron, and therefore the Decepticon leader. There is no treaty.”

“Is everyone of the same opinion?” Shockwave asked. 

“Yeah!” Rumble yelled.

“You’re dumb and your face is dumb!” Frenzy added.

Lazerbeak turned around, and took off to hover in front of Shockwave. Ravage got up from where she was lying on Ratbat and also walked closer to the containment field.

“Blaster plays with Steeljaw every day,” she announced. “I am not receiving enough enrichment from this arrangement. I want to take the deal. And so does Lazerbeak.” She flicked her tail. “Oh. And he lied about Glit being dead. Megatron only mauled him and the Autobots rescued him. He’s here, in Autobot city. He fixed me and Lazerbeak. Did you know about this Shockwave?”

Shockwave hadn’t known, in fact–had he known, he would have had to reevaluate his opinion of Megatron’s intelligence. As it was, they only had three medics–their foibles and quirks had to be given more leeway, simply because of their scarcity. 

“I did not,” he said. Assumptions needed to be verified. Not to mention, if an experienced spy and scout like Ravage found it relevant, it likely was. “What transpired exactly?”

“Glit: fixed an Autobot,” Soundwave said. “Megatron: punished disloyalty.”

Ravage hissed, her tail flicking angrily. “Megatron made a deal with Glit so he’d join: he gets to fix any wounded regardless of alignment. And you made a deal with us–you were supposed to protect us. You didn’t. So, our deals are null and void.”

Despite everything, that surprised Shockwave. True, Megatron was often cruel and sometimes the inherent risk that came with enforcing loyalty with violence did not pay off. They’d lost the Dinobots that way, and later Warpath. Yet, in all of the cases, no formal or informal agreement existed–violent and cruel as he was, Megatron would uphold deals with his followers.

Lazerbeak squawked.

It was rare that one could make any sort of guess at Soundwave’s emotional state–neither his tone nor his face were capable of giving much of a clue in that respect, and his body language was minimal. But Shockwave thought he saw a flinch then. Wingthing hissed at Ravage, who hissed right back.

“I think I’d like an opportunity to exercise my intellect,” Ratbat said, as he sat up and gave Ravage a dirty look, quite unperturbed by the discussion so far. Shockwave doubted he cared as little as it seemed about the situation with Glit–he must have grasped the implications quite well, but he was too seasoned a politician to indicate anything. “I’m sure you could use an experienced advisor, Shockwave.”

Which likely translated to Ratbat hoping to be able to manipulate Shockwave. Still, before the Great War, Ratbat had been a politician. He had experience that would certainly be useful. Shockwave turned to look at Arcee and Springer. Arcee nodded and tapped at the wall, so that a small compartment  revealed a control console. She keyed a command that opened a small hole in the containment field. 

Ravage, Ratbat and Lazerbeak left the cell through the opening. Lazerbeak turned around to squawk again, while Ravage stood firmly with her back turned and tail raised high. Ratbat made no overt shows of disdain. He simply ignored everyone in the cell. There was nothing left to accomplish there, so Shockwave turned and walked away from the cell.

“Hey! Hey! One-eyed nerd!” Rumble shouted. “If Galvamegatron is not the Decepticon leader because he can’t make some newbuilds loyal to him and a bunch of stupid Seekers, then what are you if you can’t get Soundwave to follow you, huh?!”

Shockwave did not deign to reply. It was pointless taunting from an infiltration trooper with less processing power than a human time-measuring mechanism. Besides, no one would have been able to win Soundwave’s loyalty as long as Megatron lived. A sad fate, for a bot once so intelligent and enterprising, but in all likelihood better for Cybertron.

Shockwave had plans to find out if he could undo Megatron’s reprogramming of the Constructicons, since the way it limited their initiative and creativity was severely inconvenient, but Soundwave would have to remain Megatron’s puppet. That was one of the things Megatron had gotten right–a Soundwave with a desire to scheme for his own gain was too dangerous.

They were rebuilding. They were working together, after a fashion. The treaty was shaky, at best. Ultra Magnus had little faith in Shockwave, but it was still their best chance at finally ending the war. Maybe, given enough time, they’d build a lasting peace. 

Or maybe in a hundred years or so, new Decepticon warlords would rise up and pile kindling for another Megatron to light the fires of war again. But they’d still try. 

At least it seemed like a few Decepticons saw the treaty as something more than a terrible necessity. The Constructicons were quite willing to work on rebuilding, for one. 

Maybe this time around, it would last.

But there were other matters that Ultra Magnus had to attend to. There were the sparks they had rescued from Unicron. For now, they didn’t have enough resources to build bodies for all of them, and so they were kept safe, while bodies were constructed one by one for them.

The first such body was almost ready, the spark already implanted in the chamber. As big as Skyfire, but olive green. The personality components were still downloading while Wheeljack finished the finer bits of circuitry.

“Do you know her?” Cyclonus asked. 

“Yes,” Magnus replied. “She will be disappointed.”

“About the eternal war?” Cyclonus asked. “Hm. No idea why she’d be, really. I loved finding out that some people just went and figured the best they can do with their freedom is to do exactly the same thing the Quintessons built them for, except with them as the slave masters.”

“I thought you were also disappointed that we forgot about you,” Magnus said. Cyclonus had said they would talk about it, after all. It was probably best they did it now, when they had had the time to process everything. 

“That was unfair of me,” Cyclonus said after a moment. “I was angry and you were there.” He fell silent for a moment. “I should have asked why you felt it was necessary to bury the past.”

“Still, I’m sorry,” Magnus said. “About what happened to you. Maybe, if we had made more of an effort to remember, we’d have been able to learn about Unicron.”

It wasn’t an answer to the question and they both knew it. But it seemed that Cyclonus was willing to drop the subject for now and wait.

“Oh yes, and then one of the brilliant Decepticon leaders from the first war you had would try to weaponize him,” Cyclonus snorted. “You can’t change the past, Ultra Magnus.” For a moment, he just watched the download progress, before adding, “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Magnus replied. Before them, Wheeljack had finished his work, and the download had run its course. The green Transformer sat up slowly, and looked around, perplexed.

“Hello Codexa,” Ultra Magnus said. 

Hot Rod had been right to worry. There was in fact a written exam. Fortunately, Hot Rod didn’t need to write it on his own. Yes, two of the people who had to write the essay were Decepticons, but Hot Rod was quite sure they could all work together. If nothing else, they could at least be convinced to cooperate so they could get out and do Decepticon things earlier.

Hot Rod took one final look at the room, noting who was sitting where around the big table. Daniel was safely placed in front of Springer with a human-sized desk on top of the table. Moonracer was to Hot Rod’s right, while to the left there was Dead End acting as a buffer between Hot Rod and Knock Out. In front of them, there was a screen showing the treaty.

“Right, we need to write 500 words about the pros and cons of the peace treaty,” he said, standing up. “Except for Daniel, he has to write a paragraph describing the plot of The Giver and we’re not supposed to help.”

Springer groaned. Moonracer slumped in her chair. Knock Out inspected one of his arms and resumed polishing it. Dead End muttered something about them all being doomed to fail. 

“I mean, we’re not supposed to help Daniel, ‘cause humans are weird about this sort of thing,” Hot Rod added. “Optimus didn’t say we can’t help each other with our essays.”

Moonracer perked up. 

“So, what we’re gonna do, is we figure out the cons first, since they’re easier and we’re talking about Decepti cons ,” Hot Rod said and dodged the tablet that Springer swiped at him. “You know it was funny.”  

“He’s right, it was funny,” Knock Out said. “Well, to those of us who aren’t boring.” Then he seemed to realize that he approved of something Hot Rod said, and added, “Dead End, tell him that doesn’t mean I forgive him.”

Dead End gave Knock Out a resigned look and said in an exasperated voice, “Hot Rod, Knock Out doesn’t forgive you just because he thinks you’re funny.”

“Anyway, then we’ll come up with the pros. And then each of us will pick the ones they like, and write the essay. Easy.” Hot Rod continued. 

“What if Optimus notices?” Daniel asked.

“He won’t mind,” Hot Rod said. “Since we were working together and helping each other.”

“I wanna be an Autobot,” Daniel sighed. 

“Yeah, but only when you have homework,” Springer said, carefully proding Daniel with a finger tip. “Come on kid, we know you can do it.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like any of us read the book anyway,” Hot Rod said. “I mean it sounds stupid.”

“I read it,” Dead End said. He even sounded somewhat enthusiastic about it. 

“You can read ?” Knock Out asked.

“Hey!” Hot Rod said. Clearly, they’d need to sit down with each and every Decepticon and explain the basics of social interactions. Was there some secret Decepticon initiation where they deleted every bit of empathy or something that he’d missed out on? “Focus! Dead End, can you read Danny’s homework once he’s done and see if he missed something? Knock Out, gimme the first con.”

“I actually have a pro,” Knock Out said, sounding very proud of himself. Proud enough to overlook that he was addressing Hot Rod directly. “We’re finally going to get access to Ratchet’s medical research. And also, good car wax.”

“I have a list of cons,” Dead End said. Which he promptly started listing. It took him about twenty minutes, at which point Danny finished his paragraph, so Hot Rod could redirect him to reading that. 

“OK, so pros? Anyone has another one?” he asked. They already had two pros for the Decepticons, so it shouldn’t be so hard to come up with more.

“Eh,” Springer said after a moment. “I guess having more sparring partners who can fly is good. And I guess being able to learn some of Blitzwing’s tricks is gonna be not bad.”

“We’ll have time to do fun stuff, instead of always hiding and shooting each other,” Moonracer added and Hot Rod had the best of ideas.

“We could have a party,” he said. “A big peace party. With cool music.”

“Kill me now,” Dead End grumbled, but Knock Out was already nodding along. 

Peace brought its own problems. In fact, it seemed it brought as many as war did, except they were ones that Optimus had not dealt with yet. Such as bored and enterprising Decepticons, who were no longer allowed to go out and terrorize other sentient and non-sentient life-forms. Technically, they were Shockwave’s problem, but Optimus didn’t trust Shockwave that much. 

So in the spirit of cooperation and making sure that Shockwave didn’t get any ideas, he’d made suggestions.

Such as putting Swindle in charge of the ruined orbital amusement park, on the grounds that it’d keep Swindle too busy with trying to make it profitable for him to try and defraud Cybertron. It also meant that he and Elita could finally visit it. 

Swindle, true to form, started with what he assumed would bring him most profit: a casino, machines with a very wobbly arm that was theoretically supposed to grab toys and a shooting range. 

The casino seemed to be operating fine. Swindle had even roped in Hardtop to work as security, and clearly saddled him with the inevitable task of arguing with Shockwave that he was not allowed to run mathematical simulations to predict on which fields to bet.

The machines were currently being heavily criticized by the Dinobots. One of the machines looked like it had been set on fire and then stomped on. 

Perceptor had parked himself in his alt-mode next to another row of the machines, which were now faultlessly scooping toy after toy. Blackout was sitting next to him and explaining that it really wasn’t his fault he disabled one of the machines, he just got a bit frustrated and fired an EMP by reflex, which was an accident that could happen to anyone.

Optimus and Elita passed them and headed for the shooting range. It didn’t look terribly challenging.The targets were fairly close and weren’t moving. Optimus wondered briefly if it was perhaps meant for newly forged Cybertronians, with no shooting experience, but there didn’t seem to be another one.

“Bet I can win more toys than you,” Elita said with a grin.

“Hm,” Optimus replied, pretending to think hard about accepting. “What do I get if I win?”

“A kiss,” Elita said and winked.

“Then I have no choice but to accept,” Optimus replied. The peacetime problems could wait until he and Elita had had their first date in several million years.

Elita grinned then, reached up to his face. Optimus chuckled and obediently bent down, so she could kiss his faceplate. “Wasn’t I supposed to win first?”

“You won’t, so I figured I’d give you the consolation prize now,” Elita replied. 

“This is not an obstacle course, and you don’t have the unfair advantage of being smaller,” Optimus protested. “I could win. But you should pick your prize.”

“I’ll let you know once I’ve won,” Elita replied. 

“I agreed too soon,” Optimus said, mock-mournful. “But I am honourbound as a Prime to keep my word.”

The shooting range had its own guns: not particularly well-balanced ones and with recoil that seemed not entirely proportional to the power. Still, even with the handicap, the range wasn’t that much of a challenge. Soon enough, there was a pile between the two of them and the range shut down, announcing that there was nothing left to win.

“A draw,” Elita observed. “What shall we do?”

“I think that means we both win,” Optimus said. “Did you think of your prize?”

“I did,” Elita said. “I want to visit Earth and see one of their movies.”