Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream glared unhappily at the customer. 

"Will… that be all?" he asked, he asked, suppressing the urge to sneer. Apparently, sneering wasn't conducive to good business, as he had been reminded by his employee handbook.

"I—well, now that you mention it," the customer mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Could you start over and make it two doubles instead of one quad? I might save one for later. Both to-go."

Starscream fluttered his optics so that it would hide his optic roll. "Sure. Two doubles in to-go cups. Anything else?"

"Let me ponder a moment."

Starscream was going to die. He was about to expire on his pedes in this fresh Pit he had been thrust into, annoyed to death. He tried to take a deep breath, again, per his personal employee handbook, but the invent did nothing to calm him down. Instead, he did what he had always done: closed his optics, imagined killing the mech in the most painful and humiliating way possible, and then opened his optics with a bright smile. "Of course. Take your time."

The mech's contemplation continued audibly, unable to make a simple decision. Starscream wondered if the mech was like this in all aspects of his life, or was today just special? Did he deliberate over hot or cold solvent each morning? Did he face a daily dilemma of choosing the optimal route to the wash racks? Did he seriously contemplate the necessity of venting?

"I think… I'm good," he said with a nod.

Starscream's smile curdled, and he swiftly rang up the order. "That'll be 6.84 shanix," he said.

"Oof, I really need to cut back on this stuff!" the mech said conspiratorially. "Gets more expensive every day."

"It does, doesn't it," Starscream said distantly, scanning the mech's payment chip, after adding an extra 5% like he usually did for the pain and suffering of dealing with him. "Your order will be right out," he said, his smile strained. 

The mech nodded and went to stand by the counter on the far side, observing the whole place like he hadn't been there yesterday and the day before.

Primus, Starscream was tired. Aside from the stupid customers and mundane job, he hadn’t slept well for months. His recharge cycles had been so odd, and at first, he had chalked it up to too much cheap high grade and bad decisions, but he had quit that stuff once his job improved his finances. But still, these weird, torturous dreams plagued him.

That left him thrice as irritable as normal. Back in the day, the Decepticons used to comm each other with kiss emojis to warn everyone that they could kiss their aft goodbye when he was in such an aggravated state,. But alas, he held no rank of note anymore and could not take his frustration out on any of these mechs… at least not without consequences.

Starscream sighed and thought murderous thoughts as he started to make the drink. He was so lost in his thoughts, faintly smiling, that he startled at a tiny tap on his shoulder. He rounded on the mech, bristling in irritation at being touched. "WHA— oh, Bluestreak. How pleasant it is to see you!" he lied.

Bluestreak didn't seem impressed by his fawning tone. "Starscream, did you overcharge that customer?"

"Of course not," Starscream replied with a smirk. "He was charged for the service he was given."

Bluestreak's expression remained stoic. "According to the register, he left quite a generous tip. I'm certain he was well aware of it."

"Ah, yes," Starscream said, his smile hardening. "I always give such excellent service that my customers can't help but tip me generously. I am not allowed to overcharge a customer— you were quite explicit about that in my personal employee handbook." Said handbook had almost been offensive with the explicit detail it went into about ethics. Starscream had been instructed to memorize it, unlike the other employees.

He was the only former Decepticon there after all.

Bluestreak exhaled wearily. A contemplative hum escaped him as he gazed skyward, seemingly searching for the right words. "Listen, Starscream. I tried to give you some extra notes in the handbook to help you. I know you've had trouble keeping a job."

Starscream's smirk disappeared, replaced with a scowl. "I don't need your help," he spat. "I can handle things just fine on my own."

Bluestreak's face was laced with cloying concern, and it was hard for Starscream not to claw his optics out. "I'm just trying to give you a chance," Bluestreak replied. "You were not handling things well when you asked me for a job. You looked terrible."

Starscream's face flushed with humiliation, resenting Bluestreak's blatant attempt to undermine his ego.. Why did the stupid Praxian bring that up? Trying to make him remember when he was at his lowest and most vulnerable was clearly a tactic to bring him under the heel and make him grovel. No matter. He knew how to deal with tyrannical bosses; he had extensive experience. Why, some might say he was an expert—

Bluestreak continued despite Starscream's inner monologue. "That’s why I’m hesitant to say this. There have been a lot of incidents with you that I’m worried I will start to lose customers.”

“Incidents?!” Starscream cried. “Who dares impugn my honor—”

There was a sigh from his employer that cut him off. “There was the two-wheeler mech from a week ago.”

Starscream coughed into his fist. “A simple misunderstanding, I assure you.”

“You called him a slimy, exhaust-kissing, photovoltaic gantry gripper.”

There was a strange choking noise from Starscream’s throat as he resisted the urge to laugh. Not his best insult, but it was still amusing in retrospect. “Ah, well, I may have overstepped—”

“You poured his order on his helm. And then hit him in the face with the empty cube because he said what you made tasted bitter.”

The flat tone to Bluestreak’s voice smacked of disappointment, and Starscream realized he was not as indispensable at this job as he would like. “I will do better, my lord—”

Bluestreak’s optics paled. “Please don’t call me lord.”

Starscream held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Apologies. You know how it is with… war scars and all. It just slipped out.” He stared at Bluestreak with big optics, wondering if he should try to turn on the waterworks. Bluestreak seemed the type to hear a little sniff and then just go bonkers with worry over him.

Unfortunately, it appeared Bluestreak wasn’t buying it. “You insult the customers, make the orders wrong on purpose, and possibly steal from mechs that annoy you. You must understand the position I’m in. I know you clearly don’t want to be here.”

“Yes, well, they won’t even let me within sight of a lab, so naturally, I’d have some trouble doing such simple work as taking orders at a nitrous oxide shop,” Starscream sneered, despite his processor telling him to shut up.

“And yet, you seem to forget exactly how much our double shot of nitrous costs,” Bluestreak replied. “Despite how simple it is.”

Something in Bluestreak’s tone made Starscream smile nervously. “I am sure it was a simple addition error—”

Bluestreak smiled sadly and shook his helm. “I’m trying my best here. I’ve given you a chance because I know many former Decepticons needed time to get back on their pedes. You came back to Cybertron later than most, so it stands to reason that you just need more time. But I have to draw the line somewhere.”

Starscream swallowed, realizing he was utterly and completely f—

“I’m going to give you one more chance.”

“Oh, thank you,” Starscream said, reaching out and shaking Bluestreak’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you, Bluestreak; you don’t know what this means to me! I can’t thank you enough! Everyone else has given up on me, and it just means so much that there is someone— anyone— out there that would look past my mistakes—”

“Yeah, okay,” Bluestreak said, pulling his hand back. “But I’m serious. One more incident, and you are out of here.”

“I would not expect anything less,” Starscream replied through clenched denta as Bluestreak stepped away to go into the back to continue inventory. Starscream returned to the register and heaved a great sigh, hoping he could somehow get it together. “Rough crowd,” he said under his breath to no one in particular.

Starscream seethed as he prepared the drinks. Who did Bluestreak think he was, lecturing him like some kind of sparkling? Starscream had been in the business of intimidation and manipulation for eons; he didn't need some soft-spoken Praxian telling him how to do his job.

But he was thankful for the job, as mind-numbingly stupid as it was. He had eliminated all other options for employment through just being himself… and maybe some petty larceny, attacking customers, and maybe trying to start a coup disguised as a union. No one was perfect!

But he was left with nowhere else to go.

He had quickly discovered that being a Cybertronian without a faction to support you in the grander galaxy was dangerous. Things had changed since the war had ended, and Cybertron was now a veritable utopia for Cybertronians. But that meant the rest of the surrounding alien species that inhabited the quadrant could no longer take advantage of their civil war. Many beings had been sure the peace wouldn’t last and gave Starscream very lucrative deals so that he could survive alone with his new body, but it didn’t take long for reality to settle in, and everyone realized that this time peace would prevail. No more war meant no more profiteering.

It was hard to tell people Starscream would reward them when he was the leader of the Decepticons again when there were no more Decepticons… period.

So, after some harrowing experiences abroad, he returned home, expecting someone to be happy to see him. But he was a minor footnote compared to the grander scheme of things. Cybertron was thriving; the economy was booming, industry was developing, and science—

Well, he had no idea since they wouldn’t let him in.

But it seemed everyone was happy and had moved on… without him.

So, despite everything, he really did need this job. He was trying to save up money to go back to get a degree again, and even though he could get energon for free (imagine that), he liked staying in a comfortable apartment and having disposable income.

But… he needed to be important again.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He whirled around, startled, to see a different customer from earlier standing there with a look of annoyance on his face.

"Can I help you?" Starscream asked, trying to keep his voice level.

The customer rolled his optics. "You forgot my straw."

For a moment, Starscream considered refusing to give him a straw on principle. But then he remembered Bluestreak's warning about not driving away customers, and he sighed, reaching under the counter for a straw.

"Here," he muttered, thrusting it at the customer.

The customer took it with a scowl. "Thanks. Maybe work on that attitude a bit, huh?"

“Sorry,” Starscream snapped. “That would cost extra.”

So, he thought murderous thoughts again to give him the little pep he needed and then looked up from the register to greet his next customer. “Can I help—”

The words dried up in his throat.

“Hello, Starscream,” Galvatron said. “It’s… been some time.”

Starscream immediately clicked on his null-rays and— wait. Wait, scrap; he didn’t have any onboard weaponry anymore! He clenched his jaw. He gently reached down under the counter, trying to make it look natural as he tried to find the knife used to cut up the confectionaries they made to sell with the shots of nitrous.

He found a handle, and his bitter smile returned. “You found me at last,” Starscream said, this time not holding back his sneer. “You should know I won’t be that easy to kill this time!”

“I’m not here to kill you,” Galvatron said gently. “I just want to talk.”

Starscream was bewildered by his gentle tone. He turned his nose up in a sneer. “Talk is cheap, Galvaboob! Prepare yourself!” He drew out the knife from beneath the counter and pointed it at Galvatron.

They both looked at the object, and Starscream’s spark sank. It wasn’t a knife. It was a spoon.

“What are you doing?” Galvatron said tiredly. “There’s no time for this.” He reached across the counter and grabbed Starscream’s wrist, pulling him as if he could yank him over.

Starscream squealed, trying to pull back with a snarl. “Let go of me!” He balled his other hand into a fist and pulled back. He threw his punch, only for it to be caught by Galvatron’s other hand. The dumb warlord’s optics glittered as if he were having the time of his life. “What do you want?!”

“I need your help,” Galvatron said seriously. “As does all of Cybertron.”

“You’re senile,” Starscream growled, pulling his captured wrist again. “And deluded if you think I would ever help you!”

Galvatron was undeterred. “I recognize things between us have been tense in the past. But this is important.”

Starscream moved his mouth wordlessly, incredulity making him mute. “T-tense?!” he cried. With a shriek, he smacked the spoon against Galvatron’s hand, still gripping him. “You killed me, you ignoramus!”

“It seems that was a temporary affliction.”

Starscream’s furious screech rattled the glass of the windows. Instead of taking a deep vent, counting backward from ten, or imagining himself on a deserted tropical isle, Starscream used his thrusters to launch himself off the floor, jump over the counter, and wrap his hands around Galvatron's neck.

"Was it something I said?" Galvatron snarked, smiling brazenly. He still had that twinge of enjoyment in his field, which made Starscream even madder as he squeezed. But apparently, the stupid brute's neck was too thick, and he merely gave Starscream a lopsided grin.

Starscream snarled. He grabbed the nearest heavy thing, a freestanding metal sign indicating the start of the line for when they got busy. He smashed it against Galvatron's face, finally breaking his stupid grin. Starscream smirked, chuffed that he managed to hit him, and it looked like it hurt a little.

Galvatron collected himself and pulled his full height up to stare Starscream down. Starscream puffed himself up and glared right back. Then he reached for Starscream's wing and pulled.

Things were kind of stupid after that (if they weren’t already).

They pulled, scraped, and clawed at each other, punching, and then falling into a display of novelty nitrous cups. The cups broke into smithereens beneath them as they kept trying to get the other into a headlock.

It was stupid because both were bereft of weaponry; Galvatron looked almost naked without the orange barrel of his upgraded fusion cannon.

Thinking about that dumb thing, though, made Starscream lose his focus. His optics dilated, remembering what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that terrible blast, and his breathing increased.  Galvatron noticed and managed to grab the back of his helm and pulled it back, staring into Starscream’s wide optics.

There was a beat, both smarting and panting, faces twisted into a grimace.

Then, inexplicably, Galvatron let him go.

“I’m— I’m not here to fight,” Galvatron said, his face strained. His body language seemed to say that was exactly what he wanted to do, but that he was holding himself back. “I need you.”

Starscream rubbed his neck. “You have a funny way of showing it.” He sighed and then noticed the shop was in complete disarray. He grimaced, hoping he had time to clean it up—

Bluestreak appeared, his optics flipping back and forth between them.

“What’s going on here?”

Starscream flicked his wings, turning his helm incredulously to stare at him. He threw his chin toward Galvatron as if his presence explained everything. Bluestreak gave him a blank look back and Starscream scoffed. “Look, he just came in here and grabbed me!”

Galvatron sighed heavily. “Starscream is no longer an employee here. He has important matters to attend to.”

Both Bluestreak and Starscream stared at him.

“What?” Starscream said intelligently.

Bluestreak brought his hand up to pinch the area between his optics. “Starscream, if you wanted to quit, you didn’t need all these theatrics. You could have just told me.”

“This isn’t happening,” Starscream said hysterically. “I’m not trying to quit! This lunatic just came out of nowhere and grabbed me—”

“He also threatened me with a spoon,” Galvatron added, barely repressing a smirk.

“Starscream, we’ve been over this,” Bluestreak said tiredly. “Don’t threaten the customers. Galvatron, please let Starscream go.”

Starscream sputtered, wings twitching akimbo as if trying to scent an updraft and take him out of this ridiculous situation. He turned to Bluestreak and poured all the faux-sincerity into his voice that he could muster. “Bluestreak, listen, this isn’t what it looks like.”

Bluestreak looked around the ruined shop, seeing nitrous cup shards strewn everywhere, the heavy metal sign embedded in the counter, and the other customers cowering in the corner. He sighed and then gave Starscream a resigned smile. “I think I’ve seen enough. It’s been a pleasure, Starscream, but your services are no longer required here. I’ll send your last paycheck to your residence.”

“What? No, no, no, wait— wait!” Starscream cried.

“Oh good,” Galvatron said. “You’re not busy.”

Starscream shot a venomous glare at Galvatron but flicked his gaze back to Bluestreak. “You can’t just fire me like this!"

“I’m afraid you're out of chances,” Bluestreak said firmly. “Now, both of you, please leave the premesis."

Starscream’s wings drooped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He glared at Galvatron once more before stalking out of the shop, muttering curses under his breath.

Galvatron followed behind him. "If we hurry, we can still make the next train to the Prime's Palace." He reached for Starscream's arm again, but Starscream was quicker this time to pull away.

"What is your malfunction?" Starscream growled. "You got me fired; you scrap heap!"

"You were unhappy there anyway," Galvatron replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now, if you will just hurry up—”

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I never want to see your stupid face again!"

Galvatron narrowed his optics and sighed heavily. Thinking the matter settled, Starscream twitched his wings again and stomped off, tearing his name badge and apron off to throw it into the nearest waste receptacle.

"Have you been recharging well?" Galvatron called after him.

Starscream froze. “What kind of question is that?” he snapped back, far too quickly. It wasn't so much he was surprised that Galvatron cared, inasmuch, he was bitterly tired after another night without deep sleep.

If his days had been intolerable at these jobs, his dreams had been agonizing.

And that Galvatron seemed to know that made his spark quicken.

He turned, expecting a look of smugness from Galvatron. Sniffing out a weakness and using it against him would probably make the warlord crow triumph. Starscream prepared to sneer and attack him back, undercutting his likely imminent idiotic put-down. But the only look on Galvatron's face was commiserated exhaustion.

"He's still out there,” Galvatron said instead.

Starscream wrinkled his nose and folded his arms. "The Prime killed Unicron, once and for all, years ago—"

"I know," Galvatron said solemnly. "I was there. I felt the connection between us snap like an overstretched cable. As much as I know he died that day, I also know he still lives now to haunt our dreams."

Haunt was not quite the right word, in Starscream’s opinion. Invaded, perhaps? Pulled apart each night, unspooling into a mess of phantom pain and lingering horror that could not be summed up into words?

Starscream still hated Galvatron, not only for their collective history together, but also for just now getting him fired from what was likely the last job he could find. But for now, he was drawn to at least… having a conversation.

“You have shanix? You’re buying me energon,” he said brusquely, walking off in the direction of his favorite bar.

Galvatron used long strides to catch up to Starscream and give him a knowing smirk.

Starscream sighed heavily, hoping some high grade would make this idiot more tolerable.

Chapter Text

The high grade only made Galvatron worse, if that was even possible.

He was more bombastic and ridiculous than ever before, recounting his feats in battle to anyone who would listen. Which… was the whole bar, apparently.

You’d think a few millennia of war and terror and tyranny would make him unpopular at any bar with Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals hanging out, but no. Of course not. Most everyone was amused and egging him on, asking follow-up questions and laughing at his jokes. They acted like he had the aura of celebrity anointing his helm, and he was eating up the spotlight.

However, Starscream detected a strange undercurrent to everyone’s interactions with him. Overly familiar, maybe? Or maybe an element of too much amusement, like some kind of private joke everyone shared except Galvattron? He couldn’t quite put his digit on it, deciding instead to drown in the bottom-barrel swill he was drinking instead.

“Didn’t think you knew him,” the barkeep said, cleaning a cube. “He’s always a hoot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m funny too,” Starscream replied with dignity into his drink.

“Sure,” the barkeep said. “But he’s the one winning over the whole establishment.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “How old are you?”

The barkeep laughed. “I wasn’t forged yesterday, but it was post-war. I guess that’s where you knew him?”

It was so hard to tell a mech’s age these days. He looked around the bar and guessed that this entire crowd wasn’t around for the war, or they might be a little more sour at their improvised entertainment. “Something like that,” he replied sullenly into his drink.

As time passed, Starscream realized he had a perfect opportunity to slip away. The back door was a beacon practically glowing for him, promising freedom from the purple menace. He could sneak out the door, and Galvatron would never find him again. He began to get up from his seat but paused when he realized… he didn’t have a plan for what to do next. Would he just go back to his apartment and wallow in misery?

Galvatron tired of the spotlight and gave a parting wave to his adoring masses. He came back and sat next to Starscream, patting him roughly on the back. Starscream nearly spit his energon back into his cube in surprise but caught himself and just glared at the brute with daggers in his optics.

“I didn’t realize you were so… magnetic,” Starscream said, wishing he could have found a more derogatory word. He was losing his touch.

“I have always been magnetic,” he replied, sipping his drink too. “How could you have forgotten?”

Starscream traced his glossa on the inside of his cheek, bitterly recounting all the of rallies and public speeches Megatron had given that had drawn him and similarly naïve mechs into the cause all those years ago. “I suppose you lost some of your charm when you got the purple upgrade.”

It was Galvatron’s turn to clench his jaw. “Many things changed after I met Unicron. And things have changed again since I’ve been free of him.”

Starscream turned on his stool, giving Galvatron a look, glancing at him up and down. “You don’t look any different.”

“Perhaps not, but I am. I am in control of myself and don’t hear his voice whispering in my helm all the time. The proverbial fog has been lifted… I was mad with the power of Unicron rushing through me. I know I made many decisions that were foolish, but Unicron preferred me that way. I was easier to control.”

Starscream did notice a certain clarity in Galvatron’s optics. He thought he might be able to have a real conversation with the mech, and since they didn’t have weapons, maybe it could even be civil. If Starscream felt like it.

“One thing I remember distinctly was what it felt like to try and go against his will,” Galvatron continued with a grimace. “It… was unpleasant. A distinct feeling of being rent asunder- pulled apart at the very seams. I feel that sensation whenever I close my optics and try to recharge.”

Starscream stifled a shiver. He hated that Galvatron was putting such accurate words to his own experience; he would rather they shared nothing. “And you think it’s some kind of sign that Unicron has returned from the dust he was reduced to?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Galvatron said, sipping his drink again. He gave Starscream a knowing look, as if Starscream knew of a case where someone came back from the dead.

He arched an optic ridge. Good point.

“If true, then it’s the Prime’s problem,” Starscream replied with a shrug. “We are merely lowly citizens in a new world; Prime has plenty of mechs at his disposal that he can send to go chasing after the ghost of Unicron.”

Galvatron nodded, standing. “Then, we agree. The Prime should know about this.”

That wasn’t quite- “Hey, wait, I didn’t agree-”

“Come, now Starscream. You are fueled, and we should be off.” Galvatron slammed an extremely generous amount of shanix on the counter and grabbed Starscream’s arm, pulling him towards the door.

“What- where are you taking me?” Starscream cried, trying not to sound worried.

“To Prime’s Palace. Where else?”

“‘Prime’s Palace,’” Starscream repeated under his breath. “Right now?!”

Galvatron looked down at him with a small smile. “There’s no time like the present.”

Starscream’s mouth had gone dry at that little smile, his mind unable to parse it. Something deep within him was secretly elated to have Megatron-

No. No.

He pulled his arm back, determined to walk on his own power. Galvatron let him, falling into step beside him even though it was clear he wanted to walk faster. Starscream wanted to tell him to go ahead, but he also thought that Galvatron would not let him out of his sight.

Again, part of him just wanted to punch the buffoon and fly off. Why was he letting this madmech drag him along to his every whim? Starscream wasn’t a Decepticon anymore, and Galvatron wasn’t Megatron. He didn’t owe him any of his loyalty, as little as there was there to begin with.

But still, he let Galvatron lead the way, and he followed, irritated but compliant.

Why? He was an idiot, that’s why.

But a curious idiot.

“Where did you get all that shanix?” Starscream asked as they walked to the subway system.

Galvatron arched his optic ridge. “Investments. After my trial and community service, I needed to find a way to pay the reparations that came with my sentence. I invested in a couple of mines I knew were still good producers and was able to make a tidy fortune.”

Starscream could admit he was mad with envy. He had come back too late to Cybertron, and all the “get-rich-quick” schemes had been enacted by other mechs before he even had a chance. “Guess you don’t have to work at all, then.”

“I mostly do motivational speaking engagements.”

Starscream scoffed, looking up at the sky. “Of course.”

Galvatron seemed amused by Starscream’s reaction. “Perhaps you could benefit from attending one. I could get you in for free.”

“I never lack motivation,” Starscream replied, trying to keep his anger in check. “But somehow, the universe keeps seeing fit to put the most aggravating mechs back into my life that like to get in my way. I think it’s more bad luck I have a problem with. Have a speech for that?”

They reached the train platform, swiping their cards to get past the turnstiles. “I’ll write one, just for you,” Galvatron replied, smirking.

Starscream almost stumbled his way through the turnstile, caught off guard by Galvatron’s reply.

They quickly passed amongst the crowd waiting for the train to arrive, and Starscream did see a few odd glances his way, and more than a few wary stares at Galvatron’s back. He seemed unfazed, though.

They found a nearly empty train car and sat down. “How did you find me?” Starscream asked.

Galvatron settled into his seat, crossing his legs. “I asked around. You have left quite an impressive list of disgruntled ex-employers.”

“Present company excluded, I guess,” Starscream said, smiling dangerously.

Galvatron laughed loudly, nodding. “Well, they all could at least point to the next poor spark that had taken you on. I followed the trail and found you practically moping at that coffee shop. You should not have degraded yourself so.”

Starscream bristled. “It wasn’t degrading! It was a job-”

Galvatron waved his hand in dismissal. “I was not disparaging the work. I was talking about you doing something you clearly hated.”

“Not all of us were as lucky as you to make it rich early,” Starscream replied acidly. “Sometimes we have to do things we hate to get what we actually want.”

Galvatron hummed in thought. “What is it you want, Starscream? What is it you can only achieve through suffering?”

Starscream grit his denta. This was feeling like a deep conversation and not anything he wanted to have with Galvatron of all mecha. “Why did you come to me? Was Cyclonus not around?”

There was a small, telling beat of silence. Starscream could smell discord like a sharkicon scenting energon in the water miles away and the pall of regret was strong here. “I have not been able to locate him after our trials,” Galvatron said, looking away.

Ah, the trials. Those fun, heavily-broadcasted events where the Autobots made themselves feel better by patting themselves on the back for doing right and trying the Decepticons for their crimes. They had been cringe-worthy slug-fests, clearly one-sided, awful affairs. Starscream had been blessedly off-planet at the time, and when he returned he had gotten an expedited version that had not been publicized. The public’s palate for such things had changed.

But what Galvatron said didn’t seem right. “That’s… odd. I know where he lives,” Starscream replied, tilting his helm. “You must not have tried very hard.”

Galvatron’s expression was pinched. “Perhaps you could show me after our talk with Prime.”

Starscream was about to say Pit no; he was annoyed enough that Galvatron was inserting himself into Starscream’s business- he didn’t want to do anything else with him that might extend their relationship further. But another part of him imagined dumping Galvatron at Cyclonus’s door and being able to slip out the back, finally getting rid of the purple fool before he could even notice he was missing.

So lost was he in his thoughts of handing Galvatron off that he almost missed their stop. Galvatron grabbed him again, pulling him to his pedes and out the doors before they closed.

“Daydreaming again?” he said with a smirk. “Keep your wits about you. Getting to Prime might be difficult.”

Starscream furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Galvatron didn’t answer, pulling him along up the escalator. Galvatron didn’t even allow them to ride it upward and convey it to the top. He nearly dragged Starscream up each step like he couldn’t be bothered to wait another moment.

Starscream let him. Galvatron was just as stubborn as Megatron, and there was little use arguing with either of them.

A long parade ground led up to the palace itself, lined with crystal trees, sculptures, and native flora to Cybertron. It was beautifully maintained, impressive, and expensive, displaying the majesty of the Primacy and the ruling Senate of the new utopia.

Starscream wasn’t jealous. Much.

His arm was beginning to ache a little from Galvatron’s mechhandling. He thought of protesting, but he was exhausted and irritable. Without warning, Galvatron stepped in front of Starscream to stop him.

It almost seemed a protective gesture.

“We’ve come to see the Prime,” Galvatron called as some guards approached them from the top of the steps. They weren’t anyone Starscream recognized, but they were heavily armed and seemed quite exasperated by Galvatron’s presence.

“You again?” one of the guards said. “Have we not told you a million times, he’s busy? Go home.”

Galvatron was undeterred. “We need to speak with him. It’s of great importance for the safety of Cybertron.”

“And we’ve told you a thousand times- write a letter to your representative. They can take it up with the Senate,” the other guard said.

Starscream flicked his optics back and forth between Galvatron and the guards. This was quite awkward… and Starscream sensed the same exasperation on these mechs that he had for Galvatron’s obstinate nature. Clearly, Galvatron had been here a few times before already.

“I have written several letters, but they are being ignored,” Galvatron replied. “If you were to get a message to the Prime, I know he would speak-”

“He’s too busy for you!” the other guard replied. “Go home, Galvatron. You’re not important anymore. You’re just a senile old mechanism who needs to give up already.”

Something about that rubbed Starscream the wrong way.

“I have tried to tell you that Prime will speak to me. I’m not the only one who thinks so! Tell them, Starscream.” Galvatron turned to him and threw his chin toward the mechs.

Starscream had the perverse desire to undermine Galvatron here. He wanted to tell them that Galvatron was just a raving lunatic and that he should probably be committed. It would probably be easier for Starscream that way.

But the situation was strange, as were his conflicted feelings swirling in his spark.

“Perhaps not the Prime, then,” Starscream said gently. “We could speak to someone else from the war. Someone who knows us.”

“I think most mechs who know you would rather forget you,” the first guard replied. “Both of you.”

Starscream smiled thinly. “If you know of us, then you must know how stubborn we can be. We can come back again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Maybe our little group will grow. Maybe we’ll get louder. Invite some media. We could mention how Decepticon concerns and complaints are being suppressed.” Starscream leaned forward and flicked his wings. “I’m sure your superiors would love that.”

“Are you threatening us?” the second guard said, putting his hand on his sidearm.

Starscream shrugged. “Merely illustrating why so many mecha would rather forget us but can’t. Don’t you think it would go much smoother if you let us talk to someone else?”

The guards looked nonplussed at the argument, but one of them leaned back to speak into his audial comm, glaring at Starscream as he did so. Galvatron was standing beside him, giving him a smug look.

“What?” Starscream snapped.

“I knew you would get them to see reason,” he said, folding his arms.

“Reason?” Starscream replied, ignoring the pleased flutter in his spark. “Hardly.” Starscream wasn’t sure he liked having Galvatron be happy with his behavior, but for some reason, he liked pissing these guards off more than seeing Galvatron humbled.

After a few minutes, the guards stood at attention as someone was clearly coming to see them.

He did not expect it to be Jazz.

“At ease, my mechs,” he said. He took one look at Starscream and Galvatron and sighed, his visor glinting in the light. He padded down the steps to them, giving them a winning smile. “If it ain’t the salty old slippery seeker himself. How’s it going?”

Starscream probably shouldn’t have been surprised at Jazz’s easy-going nature, but he still found himself unnerved. “Are you to be the one to evaluate us?” he asked, his voice saccharine. “No one said they would send the hardest mech to impress.”

Jazz laughed, but his visor flashed in a way that told Starscream he was dead right.

“Jazz, thank you for coming to speak to us,” Galvatron said with sincerity. Starscream made a face at the tone. “I would like to speak to the Prime.”

“Yeah, I hear you, mech,” Jazz said, pretending to clean out his audial with his digit. “I’ve read every single one of your requests and had you tailed every time you visit. I’m alerted the second you get off that train at this stop, and we have every single camera trained on you with snipers set up around the whole place. Your showing up is exhausting.”

Galvatron frowned. “My intentions are not nefarious.”

“If I had a shanix for every time I heard that one,” Jazz said, smiling with full denta. “You’ve been very clear about your wants. How about I tell you what I want? I want you to go home. Get an oil bath. Get some high grade, read some datapads, maybe watch a movie or something. You’re too old to be pulling this stunt, don’t you think?”

Jazz’s condescension was as bad as his subordinate's. “I’m surprised, Jazz, that you would dismiss a threat to the planet so flagrantly,” Starscream sniffed, scuffing his pede on the ground.

“Not you too,” Jazz said, exasperated. “I can count on some mechs to be crazy, but you? I never took you for the gullible type.”

“I didn’t need to convince him to come,” Galvatron said. Starscream opened his mouth to object but thought it maybe wasn’t the time. “He’s felt the same thing I have. Unicron isn’t dead!”

“So you keep saying!” Jazz said back. “And you have yet to provide any proof other than that your plating tingles.”

Starscream huffed a laugh. “You follow a mech-made-Prime by a piece of mystical metal in his chest that may or may not hold the wisdom of past Primes. But you won’t suspend your disbelief for us?”

“I’ve seen what that hunk of metal can do. You two are walking reminders of Unicron's failure and the Decepticons' ineffectiveness.”

Starscream’s jaw dropped as he bristled in rage. “How dare you-”

“Oh, don’t act so offended,” Jazz said, putting his hands on his hips. “What have you done since you came back to the planet, other than annoy everyone and get fired from every job you tried?” He turned back to Galvatron. “I kind of wonder if these mechs have the right of it- you’re kind of a has-been, now, yeah? Is this an attempt to be something important again?”

Galvatron flared his nostrils. “What glory is there in telling you that I’m haunted by a dead god? The being that unmade and then remade me in his image? I’m displaying weakness to you and your mechs, and you think I’m seeking attention?”

Jazz seemed taken aback. Perhaps he hadn't thought of that, or he was surprised at how open Galvatron was. Starscream gave Galvatron a long hard look, seeing him in a different light. He cleared his throat. “What harm is there in letting us talk to Prime? We leave, the message delivered, done.”

Jazz gave a long-suffering sigh. “He’s got enough on his plate- and we need him to focus. He doesn’t need to be chasing after the next big bad that might not even exist.”

Starscream could understand the difficulty. Perhaps it was difficult to get the young orange Prime to focus when he wasn’t immediately in a war. War was easy in that regard, peacetime not as much. But… still.

“We don’t want the responsibility!” he groused, his wings flicking. “If that vainglorious, fragging failed god is back, I don’t want us to be the only ones who know about it and care!”

Galvatron sighed. “Starscream is… right,” he said slowly. “We have neither the means nor the authority to do anything if this threat is credible.”

Jazz tilted his helm to look up at the sky. “Proof. Bring me proof, and then I’ll harsh Prime’s mellow for it. Otherwise? I don’t want to bother him. You two alone have put him through enough.”

Starscream opened his mouth to protest, but Galvatron touched his shoulder, silencing him. “If that is what you require, then so be it,” he replied. He turned and started to walk away without even a parting goodbye.

Starscream looked at his receding back and then back to Jazz. “This isn’t… a plot,” he tried, gently, genuinely.

Jazz shrugged. “It’s always a plot with you, even if you haven’t decided it yet. I think you two have more than enough issues to make me distrust your instincts. Your Galvatron is tilting at windmills, Starscream. Take him home and get him to a warm berth.”

Starscream sneered, turning away. “He’s not my Galvatron,” he muttered.

Chapter Text

Galvatron was waiting for him to catch up.

"Well, that's just too bad," Starscream said with faux sincerity. He pretended to dust himself off, shaking his helm. "Them's the breaks, I guess. I’ll be seeing you around-”

“Where is your domicile?” Galvatron asked, staring down at him.

Starscream frowned. “Somewhere,” he replied. “I fail to see how it’s your business.”

Galvatron gave him a hard look. “We need to find evidence to convince Jazz and, subsequently, the Prime. We will need to find help and, therefore, will need a base of operations. Your residence should do nicely.”

“Nope,” Starscream said, shaking his helm. “Nope, I barely agreed to go talk to the Prime. We failed that, but our message was delivered. Sort of.” Starscream shrugged. “It doesn’t matter; my apartment is not available for your ‘base of operations,’” he said derisively with air quotes.

“I was asked to vacate my domicile yesterday,” Galvatron replied. “There was a complaint that my presence made others uncomfortable.”

Starscream wanted to snap back that Galvatron’s presence was making him uncomfortable, but for some reason, the words died on his glossa. He squinted and flicked his wings. “So, buy another one. Aren’t you loaded?”

“I have limits on how much I can withdraw from my accounts,” Galvatron said. He seemed wholly unbothered by these events, though Starscream thought he should be seething. It was obvious that the utopia was designed for only certain bots, and even though Galvatron had paid his proverbial pound of protoform, clearly, he wasn’t wanted.

“That’s… not my problem,” Starscream said through clenched denta. Starscream had his own problems and didn’t need to adopt a stray ex-warlord to add to them.

Galvatron didn’t seem perturbed and just stared at Starscream for a long, drawn-out moment. Starscream flicked his wings a few times, unnerved, but not enough to change his mind. He coughed into his fist and then gave Galvatron a stiff nod, deciding this awkward encounter was over.

Instead of standing around waiting for Starscream to change his mind, Galvatron started to walk away.

Starscream narrowed his optics but shrugged to himself. Fine! Good, that purple imbecile finally got the hint. Starscream sighed heavily and smiled, silently congratulating himself. Now, just to go back to his apartment—

Which was in the same direction Galvatron was headed.

Starscream’s optics shot wide as he tried to tail Galvatron, but he realized with dismay that the mech was headed in the exact direction of his apartment.

“Where- where are you going?!” Starscream cried. “You-”

“Your apartment is this way, is it not? I believe it’s in lower Iacon, Steelrise Apartments, 5^th floor, apartment #113—”

Starscream ran ahead of him, pointing angrily up at his chest. “Are you stalking me?!”

Galvatron once again grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. “You put it on your resume, which I found while hunting you down after all your jobs.”

Starscream grimaced. “That still sounds like stalking.”

Galvatron merely smirked.

“Why did you ask where it was if you already knew?” Starscream asked, his voice rising an octave.

“My dear Starscream. You always seem to do better under the illusion of privacy,” he said, chuckling as if it was a really funny joke.

Starscream threw his hands in the air. “Alright, fine, you can see my apartment!” Starscream huffed, deciding to try something different. “But only so that you can see that it’s far too small for whatever kind of base you are thinking of. Then you leave, and we never talk to each other again.”

He figured if he didn’t let the idiot in, he’d find a way to break in. This way, at least, he had a modicum of control over the mech’s actions.

Distantly, he worried about the state of his apartment; when was the last time he had cleaned?

When they arrived, it was with some dismay that he realized the answer was… never.

“Your habits remain as sloven as always,” Galvatron said with some disdain, wiping some dust off the arm of the couch.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Starscream snapped back, quickly gathering up empty cubes from around the main living room and dumping them in his dirty sink. He scowled as he quickly set to work cleaning them, as he wasn’t sure he had a clean cube to spare if Galvatron wanted—

“Ugh,” Starscream said as he cleaned faster. He didn’t need to give Galvatron a cube! The mech bullied his way into his apartment; he didn’t need—

“I must admit, these are not the contents I expected to find here.”

Starscream turned his helm to see Galvatron holding the door open to his refrigeration unit, looking inside with an arched optic. Starscream peered over his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure what was so wrong with the contents. There was a cheap fluted bottle of flat Vosian high grade that was half-gone; a blue glass container of faceplate polish he had stored in there to keep it fresh for his beauty routine; a gun, of course—that’s a little odd, sure, but he wasn’t sure where else to stash it for easy accessibility; some dried-out energon condiments lined the door to the unit, clearly expired and well-past their prime; a dildo-

With a mortified squeak, Starscream slammed the door shut to the unit, his optics wide. “Don’t open things unless you are prepared to take responsibility for what you find!” Starscream hissed. He turned around, went back to the sink, and started to scrub the cubes again to hide his heated faceplate furiously. “Just sit down and. Stop. Snooping!”

Starscream couldn’t see his face, but he could feel Galvatron’s smug look as he sat down at the little table in the nook next to the kitchen that served as a dining room. Starscream couldn’t believe that Galvatron, of all mechs, was sitting there, watching him with some kind of coy expression that Starscream couldn’t quite place. It was annoying, and he wasn’t really in the mood.

“I suppose that adds credence to the statement that you don’t often have guests.”

Starscream rolled his optics with his whole frame and then turned to glare at his uninvited guest. “I’ll have you know that my guests sometimes enjoy that little piece—you know what, I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said, letting the cube he was trying to dry fall back into the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a rag and wiped down the table before sitting down with a huff. “What is it going to take for you to leave me alone?”

Galvatron smirked. “Help me get the proof we need, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Starscream wrinkled his nose. “That’s too vague!” he cried. “What kind of proof are you going to give them? They won’t believe anything other than a live feed of Unicron talking.”

“Precisely,” Galvatron said with a nod. “Which means we have to find him.”

Starscream opened and closed his mouth a few times, shock permeating his processor. He stopped and looked down at the table. “You’re serious,” he said quietly. “You seriously want to go find the god? How stupid are you?”

Galvatron’s optics dimmed slightly. Starscream expected him to get angry, but instead, he seemed… understanding. “I don’t expect to defeat him. I have been too often humbled in that regard,” he replied lowly. “I merely want to find him and lead the Prime to him to finish what he—and all of us—tried to do. So that we all can finally rest in this new world we have created.”

Starscream frowned. “What makes you think I’m not resting? I’m fine, and I’m doing perfectly without your meddling!”

There was a glint in Galvatron’s optics, and he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never known you to settle for anything. You could do better at these jobs if you actually thought your goal was attainable. Instead, you went into them expecting to be fired and ended up trying again and again because you don’t think you’ll ever escape… him.”

Starscream froze, his back stiffening as his wings lowered. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Galvatron’s expression softened. “He never actually addresses me in the dreams, which makes me wonder if he knows I’m even there,” he started, tracing his digit across a crack in the table. “It’s darker than the void of the Pit, but I can hear his… breathing. Slowly, his optics flitter back online and glow faintly in the darkness. He opens his mouth, and I hear a faint...”

“...laugh,” Starscream finished tiredly. He met Galvatron’s optics. “Why do you think we are having these dreams?”

“You have a frame that was created—or recreated—by Unicron himself, just as I do. It stands to reason that we still have a connection to him.”

“Nothing about this is reasonable,” Starscream replied, folding his arms over his cockpit. “Wherever he is, if he is in fact alive, he can’t be close by. Otherwise, his presence would have been detected by the powers that be,” he said bitterly. “How could we feel his presence over such a far distance? And then, how do we even know where to look?”

Galvatron smiled. “But does that mean you do want to look?”

Starscream slowly closed his optics, tracing the inside of his cheek with his glossa. “Let’s say I did. It’s going to be a really long, stupid adventure if it’s just you and me.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Galvatron replied. “I’ve planned for this exact problem.”

There was a knock at the door.

Starscream’s optics flicked to the door and then back to Galvatron. “Who the frag- WHO ELSE KNOWS WHERE I LIVE?”

Galvatron stood and went to the door. “Starscream, I do believe you know Soundwave?” he said as he opened the door to reveal said mech, quietly waiting for entrance at the threshold.

“Greetings,” Soundwave said. His voice sounded different, with less reverb and somehow quieter. “This will serve well as our base of operations after a good cleaning.”

Starscream gave an offended squawk. “It’s not that dirty!” he cried, standing. “And this is not—you are not—Galvatron!”

“Don’t worry; I already told him not to look in the fridge,” he said with a wink.

Starscream hung his helm in exasperation. “Somehow, you’ve become more stubborn since you were Megatron. I didn’t think it was possible!”

“Many things have changed,” Galvatron said quietly at his side. Starscream looked up at him, sensing some hidden meaning behind his words. “And I hope things are done right this time.”

Starscream scoffed. “What, you mean not killing me the second you see me?”

Galvatron looked like he was about to argue, but another knock was at the door.

“Oh, my fragging Primus, no,” Starscream groused, trying to get to the door first, but Galvatron elbowed him out of the way.

“Astrotrain,” Galvatron said sourly. “You’re late.”

“Your directions were confusing!” Astrotrain complained. He ducked under the threshold of Starscream’s door. “Heya, Star! Been a long time since we last saw each other,” he said dangerously.

That tone of voice usually meant he had done something to the mech. He wracked his processor, trying to remember the last time he had met Astrotrain. It couldn’t have been that bad, right? It’s not like he tried to kill him-

“Oh,” he said quietly.

“Oh? Oh?” Astrotrain replied, stepping in closer. “You forgot?!”

“Well,” Starscream said, taking a step back with a hard swallow. “My memories from being dead are pretty blurry,” he lied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “If, for example, I possessed you and then left your frame just as you were about to crash into the Autobots, it’s water under the bridge, right? No big deal, you’re fine!”

Astrotrain was looming now, and Starscream cowered slightly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m totally fine.”

Galvatron smacked Astrotrain on the back, apparently oblivious to the tone of the conversation that was happening. “Glad to hear it! Help Soundwave clean, and don’t go in the fridge or the berthroom.”

Starscream narrowed his optics and glanced behind him, seeing that his berthroom door was ajar when it had previously been closed. “Stop SNOOPING!” he cried, running to the door and pulling it shut quickly.

“Galv, are you sure this place is gonna be big enough for all of us?” Astrotrain asked.

“Who is ‘all of us’?” Starscream squawked.

“Just a few more. It’ll be tight, but this location is perfect,” Galvatron replied.

Starscream was shaking his helm, unable to understand what was happening. Just hours ago, he was working hard at his job, and now his whole world was crumbling into insanity. Soundwave continued to move around the apartment, cleaning things with a rag as he went. Starscream could feel his judgment as he picked up some old, naughty datapads that Starscream had been reading for the articles.

“I’ll know if you take them, you slagger,” Starscream said hotly.

There was another knock at the door.

“Come on in,” Galvatron said jovially. Starscream wanted to punch him.

The door opened to reveal Scourge- or… wait. No, there were two of them.

"Oh, Sweeps? Really scraping the barrel, aren't we?!" Starscream said, falling onto his couch with a huff.

Galvatron ignored him. "Starscream, meet Sweep #353 and Sweep #789. Gentlemechs, I'm sure Starscream's reputation precedes him."

"Of course," one of them said nervously in a fawning, light voice. It was odd to hear that timbre out of a mouth that looked so much like Scourge's. "I-it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Don't lie, '3," the other one said, sounding deeper in voice and instantly more dislikeable. "He can smell lies from a mile away. Or is it that you can smell his lies from a mile away? You’re looking pretty good for a dead guy, by the way. If you like outdated seeker models."

Starscream smiled back weakly. "Galvatron, why are the cheap knockoffs insulting me in my own home?"

"Because they are being rude and should know better," Galvatron said, giving the mechs a chastising look. To Starscream's surprise, it didn't cast the mechs into cowering fear but made them look sheepish. "353 and 789 also have the distinction of experiencing the same dreams we have been having, lending credence to our theory.”

"You're having them too?" Astrotrain asked Starscream, suddenly curious.

Starscream threw him an irritated scowl. "Unfortunately," he replied.

Astrotrain seemed astounded. "I thought for sure this was a trick to get the gang back together again or something," he muttered. "But if you're onboard..."

"I'm not convinced this isn't a trick," Starscream said. "But if you're asking if Unicron appears to be interested in turning me into an insomniac? Yeah, it appears that way."

Astrotrain and Soundwave shared a look at that statement, and their expressions turned grim.

Galvatron clapped his hands together. "Now, I'm hoping one more mech will—"

There was another knock at the door, and Galvatron opened it, giving a hearty exclamation of excitement. "Good! You made it."

In stepped Rodimus fragging Prime, sporting a new purple and blue paint scheme. He also looked younger, which kind of surprised Starscream, but paint could do all kinds of things if someone was skilled enough.

"Oh, thank Primus," Starscream said. "Perfect, you don't need me now! You've got a Prime with the Matrix! This job will be over quickly."

Rodimus narrowed his optics. "I don't have the Matrix anymore. Optimus has it."

Starscream clearly had not been keeping up with recent events. "You're telling me that self-righteous truck also came back from the dead? Can I have nothing to myself?"

Galvatron rolled his optics and clapped Rodimus on the back. “Hot Rod, it’s good to see you. I’m guessing you didn’t have any luck getting my message to Prime either?”

‘Hot Rod’ shook his helm. “Unfortunately, no. You’d think my time as the Prime would have earned me at least ten minutes of his time, but they’re protecting him from ‘aberrant personalities’ like mine. Not even Ultra Magnus would let me see him.”

Galvatron sighed. “It was worth a shot. Now that we are all here, we can begin planning.”

Starscream incredulously looked around the room, wanting to voice his skepticism. Soundwave used to be quite competent, but under Galvatron’s leadership, he’d become a kind of a bumbling idiot. Astrotrain was always an idiot. The Sweeps were dumb as they came, and Rodimus, or Hot Rod, was apparently an ousted Prime—a has-been.

Starscream decided not to look too closely at himself in that regard.

He had to find a way to get away from these imbeciles as soon as possible.

“Our plan is to find irrefutable proof that Unicron is not dead and still poses a risk to Cybertron and the universe at large,” Galvatron said. “We also need to do so in a way that does not attract attention to ourselves, as we have a certain reputation in this quadrant of the galaxy.”

Starscream couldn’t repress his snort. Soundwave shot him a dirty look, but Starscream held up a hand in apology.

Galvatron continued. “I appreciate all your support. I recognize that not all of you can feel what I feel, but I need you to trust me one more time. Put your faith in our team to help Cybertron and the lives here enjoy the new Golden Age. There will be no glory in this; at the very least, it would be best if the populace never knew about what we did if we were successful.”

“Really selling it,” Starscream muttered, folding his arms across his cockpit.

“But we will know we did. We will know the struggle we endured to save them, and that will be enough,” Galvatron finished with a solemn bow of his helm.

As far as inspiring speeches went, Starscream had heard better from Megatron, of all mechs. Still, the effect was enough for the ragtag group to get that glassy-optic enthusiasm on their faces. They were convinced enough for now. Starscream had been around these mechs long enough that it would not last through the first setback they might encounter on this journey, but it would at least get them out the door.

If Starscream was even going to go through with this. But would it really be so bad? It wasn’t like he was doing anything else. He had no job, no prospects, and no allies to speak of. Perhaps he needed to give these mechs the proper leadership they would likely lack, with Galvatron leading the charge.

In the very back of his mind, the latent fear he had for what Unicron returning could mean also had something to do with his decision.

The mechs around him were chatting to each other, catching up, and making small talk. He stood, walking over to Galvatron to gloat about how lucky he was that Starscream had decided, but Hot Rod was talking to him.

“...and you haven’t heard from any others?”

“No. No one else responded to my messages,” Galvatron said. “Even Starscream took some convincing.”

“Yeah. I wonder how you pulled that off,” Hot Rod replied with a knowing look. Something about it was far too familiar, making Starscream’s tanks clench.

Galvatron’s almost sheepish look confused him further.

“You never heard back from Cyclonus?” Starscream said, interrupting. “I find it odd with all the other loyal mechs here that he didn’t consider joining you.”

“I did not,” Galvatron replied. “You said you knew where he lived? How?”

Starscream rocked back on his heeled thrusters. “He invited me for a chat a few months ago. Wanted to clear some things up.”

Hot Rod gave him a thoughtful look and then turned his gaze back to Galvatron. “If he wanted to talk to you, Galvatron, he would. Perhaps we respect his wishes.”

Starscream snorted. “Nonsense. If your theory about our connection to the Unmaker is right, then he and Scourge have dreams, too. He doesn’t get to hide from this if I don’t,” he said bitterly. He reached for the door. “Come on, then. Let’s go ask him to join our little party.”

Galvatron hesitated a moment before striding out the door with confidence. Hot Rod sighed and gave Starscream an annoyed look as he followed suit.

Starscream turned to the rest of the team. “Come on, then. I’m not leaving you here.”

The other mechs filtered out into the hallway.

Starscream took one last look at his apartment. He never noticed how big it was. It seemed so empty now that all his uninvited guests had left.

They walked together rather than flying, mostly for Soundwave and Hot Rod’s sake. The mechs didn’t seem to appreciate it, though; Starscream thought they should be more verbose in their gratitude, but getting thanks from Soundwave was like getting civility from a Stunticon. Starscream’s wings honestly itched. It had been a long time since he had gone on a good, hard fly… but it wasn’t like he had anyone to fly with.

Speaking of which- his last conversation with Scourge and Cylconus had been… well, awkward. After the war, the trials, and the general awkwardness of Cybertron had ended, Starscream returned to the planet. Not long afterward, he received a message from Cyclonus asking to meet. Apparently, Cyclonus and Scourge had decided that they had unresolved tension with Starscream and wanted to clear the air.

Starscream had been curious more than anything. He thought maybe there was a way to make these two mechs his lackeys- they liked being lackeys, right? Maybe they were just looking for a leader again. Starscream could assume that role.

That wasn’t how the conversation went.

When he arrived at their home, he was instantly jealous of how comfortably they lived. Their house was not big, but it was quaint and looked well-kept. There was even a mercury pool out back, screaming of disposable income and an easy, carefree life. There may be a way to insert himself into their little group, for old-times sake.

He had been invited in, and the conversation between the three of them had been cordial but awkward as hell. They had only bad things in common, but Starscream tried to remain witty.

“Anyway, how are my favorite fliers these days?” he said, smiling sweetly.

Scourge and Cyclonus looked uncomfortable. “We are your favorites?” Scourge asked.

“Well,” Starscream replied. “Since I haven’t seen Thundercracker or Skywarp around.”

Scourge’s wings twitched so violently that Starscream thought he was having a seizure. Cyclonus scowled, looking extremely tired and disappointed in the same furrow of his brow.

Cylconus stopped, and his face fell. “We wanted to give you closure because, in the middle of everything, I’m not sure anyone told you. They died.”

Starscream already knew, of course. He’d inhabited enough bodies to know his trinemates’ fate and had pieced it together. This wasn’t some big revelation; he was just behaving like an aft.

Still, something in his spark stirred painfully. This was the first time someone had even cared to tell him directly.

He hadn’t really thought about it much, though. Sure, he had been surprised at the news, but death… wasn’t as final as everyone had made it seem, and certainly not as far off as others had made it out to be for a race of sentient cybernetic organisms that technically could live indefinitely.

“But that’s not the whole story, is it?” Starscream said, narrowing his optics.

Cyclonus looked a little pained, as if this conversation were tiresome. “Parts of me are made up of Skywarp, and parts of Scourge are made up of Thundercracker. We are their heirs, in a way.”

A pause filled the room. Suddenly, the air was stifling.

“Did they blame me for their deaths?” Starscream asked quietly, looking into his drink.

Cyclonus blinked and leaned back onto his couch, exchanging a look with Scourge. “We don’t know,” Scourge said, folding his arms. “But you aren’t the only one who tossed them out of Astrotrain.”

Starscream laughed bitterly. “All this tense business around tossing some wounded comrades out into space. It wasn’t like we didn’t habitually toss each other out of airlocks all the time!” Starscream replied, still not meeting their optics. “I didn’t expect them to be picked up by a planet-eating god. I expected all of them to come crawling back later, pissed off but not dead.” He grimaced. “Do you know how many times I got abandoned on an asteroid? Or tossed out of the Victory and washed up on shore? I didn’t expect... No one could have expected this. What I did was no worse than before, but I was still murdered for it.”

Cyclonus pursed his lips. “Perhaps closure was the wrong word. Clarification is more like what we wanted to talk about. Scourge and I have wisps of previous memories, which is perhaps why we are drawn together, but we don’t feel that way about you.”

Starscream flinched.

“Perhaps that sounded harsher than intended,” Cyclonus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe the parts of Skywarp and Thundercracker that had an affinity for you are just not part of us.”

“Or perhaps they never cared at all,” Starscream said fondly, scratching his digit down the side of his cube. “I’m not sure this was a conversation I wanted to have today. Why invite me here just to tell me you don’t want me around?”

Cyclonus looked chastised, at least. Scourge sighed. “Galvatron is around. Possibly seeking an audience with us—just thought you should know.”

Starscream snorted and then started laughing bitterly. He stood from his chair, putting the drink down. “Have some nice lives, you two. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again unless it’s important.”

And now, Starscream found himself approaching their door again. Galvatron acted oddly the closer they got to the door; he was agitated and twitchy. It made Starscream hang out at the back of their little group, and he found himself beside Soundwave.

“So... what little miscreants do you have in there?” Starscream asked, pointing at Soundwave’s chest.

Soundwave gave him a bland look in return. “Cassettes: not present on this escapade.”

Starscream’s expression grew stormy, though he still had a smile on his lips. “Glad you think our chances are so great.”

Soundwave faced forward and was saved from a reply by Galvatron's knock at the door.

When it opened, Galvatron swept his arms out wide. “Cyclonus! It is good-“

The door slammed back in his face.

Starscream nearly choked on a laugh, trying his best to stifle it behind his hand. This was so worth it.

“Did he not recognize me?” Galvatron said, perplexed.

“Oh, he knew who it was,” Starscream snickered.

Galvatron scowled. "Cyclonus," he called. "Just a moment of your time?"

“Galvatron,” Hot Rod said gently. “It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk to us. We should just leave.”

Starscream chuckled, his wings flaring in smugness. “Cyclonus? A moment,” he called.

The door opened again, partly. Cyclonus’s red optics scanned the little crowd and, upon finding him, widened. “Starscream,” Cyclonus said, confusion written on his face. “You’ve brought Galvatron to my door.”

“Yes, I did. I can’t seem to get rid of him. Have any ideas? Is hiding from him an option for me, too?”

Scourge appeared at the door, too, scowling. “You’ve brought many former Decepticons to our door. And Rod-”

“Hot Rod, please,” Hot Rod said with an annoying smile. “Can we talk?”

“Have you been having bad dreams lately?” Starscream interrupted with a smirk.

Cyclonus and Scourge shared a look and opened the door with a heavy sigh.

Their house was much the same as Starscream remembered it. Giant windows lined the main living area, leading outside to a patio and lavish mercury pool. An energon bar looked inviting, so Starscream went over to it and began mixing himself a drink uninvited.

Astrotrain had to duck to get into the main quarters and then sat on the hilariously undersized couch. Soundwave came in and found a little stretch of unobtrusive wall to lean against, folding his arms and observing quietly. Galvatron and Hot Rod came in side-by-side, looking around the premises with opposite looks of consternation and amusement.

The Sweeps came in and awkwardly waved at Scourge, who awkwardly waved back.

“I suppose you have had dreams then,” Starscream said, sipping his high-grade high ball.

Cyclonus frowned. “I’ve learned something, Starscream. After having Unicron in my head for years, I’ve decided there is no way to eliminate his presence fully. Not completely. Whatever we hear or see in our dreams could just be an echo—a shadow.”

Starscream laughed. “Tangible things cast shadows. Things that exist, Cyclonus.”

“Things that are dead can also cast shadows,” he replied. “And fine, Unicron could very well be back, but regardless. It’s not our problem to solve. We want nothing to do with this.”

The silence that followed was stifling, and Starscream’s wings twitched. He wasn’t really here as the leader and gave a side-glance to Galvatron, but the mech just looked perplexed.

Hot Rod broke the tension by saying, “Can I go swimming in your pool?”

Cyclonus’s severe face looked scandalized, but Scourge rolled his optics. “Feel free.”

Things relaxed after that. Soundwave put some background music on, and the atmosphere turned nearly friendly. The newly acquired sun blazed overhead, casting a golden glow across the poolside and on the strange gathering of mechs. Conversation filled the air as some swam in the cool mercury, seeking refuge from the scorching heat. Someone produced a colorful beach ball and started hitting it back and forth before it popped on one of the Sweeps’ sharp wings.

Scourge and Cyclonus had adopted several things from Earth, including a love of inflatable flamingos and pineapples that floated on the pool’s surface. Deciding to ignore the pending conversation, Scourge settled into an inflatable raft, setting a visor over his optics after putting on some bumpers on the sharp parts of himself.

Starscream’s bar was a popular spot, with colorful tropical drinks adorned with tiny umbrellas being expertly crafted and served to thirsty guests. Astrotrain took up most of his attention, chatting him up about nothing, apparently already over the awkwardness of his possession and abandonment with the Autobots. Starscream was only half paying attention, as Cyclonus and Galvatron looked like they wanted to talk to each other but… didn’t.

Starscream knew this would be entertaining. Thoughts of escaping out the back door were distant.

Still, Galvatron seemed Pit-bent on ruining their fun.

“Cyclonus...” he started. “I recognize-”

“I don't know how you can be standing with him,” Cyclonus said angrily, turning to Starscream. Starscream pointed at himself, not expecting to be dragged into this impending fight. “After what he put me through- the physical, mental, emotional abuse he heaped upon me? And I was loyal to him! That’s the crazy part. I can’t imagine what he did to you.”

Starscream considered this and then tossed back his drink. “Well, you were there, Cyclonus. Or have you forgotten? At least with you, he wasn’t in his right mind.”

“Is that what he’s telling you? Is that what you believe?” He rounded on Galvatron. “You weren’t in your right mind?”

“Unicron accentuated certain parts of my personality.“

“So, it was always there to begin with,” Cyclonus replied derisively. “And you had so little control of yourself—you would have slapped me around anyway?

Galvatron looked pained.

“Listen,” Cyclonus said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I wish you all the best of luck. Whatever you plan to do, leave us out of it.”

By now, the jovial nature of the gathering had summarily died. The music was gone, and sensing the discord, Hot Rod and the Sweeps had entered the living room, still dripping mercury from their kibble. Scourge looked incensed but kept quiet as he watched the conversation unfold.

“But... you two deserve each other,” Cyclonus said furiously to Starscream. “I would have thought you knew better than to bring him to my door.”

Starscream finished his drink with a bitter smirk. “Why does anyone think I can do anything besides being annoying and a royal aft to allies and enemies alike? I brought him here for my entertainment and to keep my promise. I would only bother you if it were important and was above our interpersonal, petty squabbles.”

“Petty?” Cyclonus repeated.

Galvatron’s hand was shaking into a fist. He took a deep breath and then started to leave. “Your answer is sufficient. We’ll do it on our own.”

The other mechs followed suit, with Starscream casting one last smirk over his shoulder. Cyclonus slammed the door closed behind them.

Starscream shrugged, jogging to catch up to Galvatron for one last little jab. “Even your most loyal followers want nothing to do with you. Some leader you are.”

Galvatron ignored him, which made Starscream flick his wings in irritation. Hot Rod put a hand on his shoulder. “It seems to me, Starscream, that you also have no one that wants anything to do with you. Just a thought.”

Starscream slowed down his walk to glare hotly before he realized he was going to be left behind.

Chapter Text

“Well, that went well,” Hot Rod said, giving an insufferable smile. He clasped his hands together and looked entreatingly at Starscream. “Mind if I crash here for the night? I’ll just pull up some floor. My apartment is kind of far away.”

Starscream was slumped at his breakfast nook, glaring irritably at his guests, who once again invaded his home. Knowing he couldn’t escape them anyway, he waved his hand noncommittally and returned to glowering.

Galvatron sat down across from him and gave him a knowing look.

“What?” Starscream asked.

“You act like you don’t want anyone around, but you do,” Galvatron said smugly. “Why don’t you ever say what you mean?”

Starscream pulled back in offense. “I don’t want anyone here. I was just fine living in my apartment, alone, quiet, and without a bunch of losers stifling up the place with their exhaust.”

“Hey!” 789 said. At least Starscream thought it was 789. He couldn’t remember the difference between the Sweeps yet. “If we’re losers, that makes you an ultra-loser!”

Starscream turned his attention back to Galvatron with a sneer. “Such intelligent mecha you surround yourself with. It’s a wonder you haven’t solved this Unicron problem yet!”

Galvatron sighed. “You forget that I’ve fought alongside you for millennia. I think I know you pretty well. You’re putting on a show for no one’s benefit except your pride.”

“That’s absurd,” Starscream replied. “And besides, you aren’t Megatron. You don’t know me at all.”

“I am Megatron, in a way,” Galvatron replied tersely.

Starscream rolled his optics. “Anyway,” he said, looking around the room. “What happens now?”

“Guess we go looking for the monster,” Astrotrain said. He was sitting on the floor up against the wall with his helm tilted up like he was trying to recharge.

“What, we just ask around?” Starscream asked. “You don’t know where he is?”

“Information gathering: needed,” Soundwave added helpfully. “Best location: near where Unicron was last seen and killed.”

Starscream was beginning to think he had made a mistake by agreeing to help these idiots. He cast a sideways glance at Galvatron, who was observing him closely. The purple mech sighed heavily, looking older than he should and just as weary.

“We’ll leave at first light,” Galvatron said after another long pause. “Everyone, get some rest.”

Deciding the conversation was finished, Starscream stood from his seat, departing to his small, disheveled berthroom.

He called over his shoulder, “Don’t mess up my apartment!” And with a dramatic flair, he closed the door.

Now alone, Starscream couldn't shake off the lingering feeling of unease as he settled into his berth. Galvatron's reappearance in his life had changed everything. The mech was annoyingly persistent and made Starscream have to care about the fragging planet he was on if only to protect the pathetic life he had eked out. Reluctantly, he acknowledged the truth in Galvatron's words: he did want to be involved, even if he refused to admit it openly.

Like slag, he was going to say Galvatron was right, though.

Lying on the berth, Starscream's thoughts drifted back to Earth. Thinking about running around with Megatron and the other Decepticons made him feel nostalgic and wistful. As much as he chafed under Megatron’s thumb, it hadn't been all bad; even working with the tyrannical gunformer had some bright spots. Starscream had kind of enjoyed the mischief they could get up to, even if the Autobots annoyingly dampened their fun.

And he had always felt that he and Megatron—

Enough of that. Starscream had always believed that he deserved to be the leader and would have been better at it than anyone currently occupying the seat of power. And yet, time and time again, he had been denied that position. His existence had been characterized by wanting and being denied.

Now, Starscream saw an opportunity to change that fate. If they could succeed in finding Unicron's remains and harnessing his power, he could finally claim his rightful place as the ruler of Cybertron.

Something had to go right for him eventually. It was the law of averages or something.

He just needed his lucky break.

As sleep slowly overtook him, Starscream's mind was filled with visions of power and conquest. The desire burned within him, fueling his determination to see this through, no matter the cost. But amidst the ambitions and machinations, a lingering doubt clouded his mind: Unicron was dangerous.

Dangerous wasn't the right word. Not to be trifled with? Vengeful and menacing?

A warm call to sleep settled over him, lulling and relaxing him, but it was too fast. It was synthetic and contrived, and he was confused about why he had this distant feeling of alarm.

His brow furrowed as recharge overtook him, and eerie, nebulous dreams snuck into his processor.

Optimus Prime squeezed the area between his optics to relieve the building pressure as the glyphs on his datapad began to flow together.

Stacks upon stacks of datapads filled his desk, each one marked important and urgent. There was no end to them, and he realized that he was woefully unprepared as an administrative leader of Cybertron. He could lead an army and defeat evil incarnate, but somehow, the Matrix was silent when it came to managing meetings and reviewing suggested bills from the Senate.

He thought he could hear the amused laugh of Rodimus Prime echoing in his audials. He smiled. Somehow, the latest addition to the wisdom of past Primes made things easier for Optimus. He appreciated the levity.

It might be odd that the mech that owned that wisdom was still alive and running around somewhere, not following his ascribed duties. But his voice was appreciated nonetheless.

There was a knock at his door, and Cliffjumper and Jazz were already entering without waiting for an invitation. “Prime, we've gotta talk,” Cliffjumper said.

Ironhide appeared at the door behind them, huffing and puffing. He guessed the two mechs had led Ironhide on a chase, trying to get into his office. Ironhide had become very protective lately, but there was no stopping Jazz’s cunning and Cliffjumper’s tenacity.

“I tried to tell them you were busy,” Ironhide apologized. There was no need, though; Prime was always busy.

“Please. What’s wrong?” Optimus said, putting down his datapad.

Cliffjumper looked expectantly at Jazz, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “It appears the Decepticons are gathering again.”

Optimus knit his brow in consternation. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Who leads them?”

“Galvatron!” Cliffjumper said. “I told you all! I knew sparing his life would come to bite us in the aft!”

Optimus gave him a sharp look, but it didn’t seem to do anything as Cliffjumper stared back, unrepentant. “Do you know why they are gathering?”

It was telling that Jazz’s expression smoothed over in innocence. Unfortunately, that meant that Jazz at least suspected the reason but didn’t want Optimus to know. At this point, Optimus had known Jazz for a long time; trying to fool him with that look was useless.

“Clearly, nothing good!” Cliffjumper helpfully supplied. “We gonna go round them up?”

“Who are they?” Optimus tried again, this time looking directly at Jazz.

“Galvatron, Soundwave, some random Sweeps, Astrotrain, and Starscream,” Jazz said, examining his digits. “Thought that last one was some intel worth passing on to you.”

That was curious. Starscream and Galvatron in the same room without trying to kill each other? “What could unite them?”

Cliffjumper looked impatient, but Jazz shrugged again, acting again like he didn’t know. Which meant he did know, and it was something that would bother Optimus. What would bother him?

He sighed, trying to stop his mind from going in circles. “Are they causing any trouble?”

Both Jazz and Cliffjumper shared a look that told Optimus that there hadn’t been anything that had actually happened yet. Cliffjumper opened his mouth to protest, but Optimus cut him off.

“If they haven’t done anything, then leave them alone. At the very least, you can observe them, as they are a curious group, but please don’t invade their privacy. For all we know, it’s some kind of memorial club. Politically, we have finally moved on from thinking in terms of Autobot versus Decepticon in everything we do; I’d prefer not to upset that balance.”

Cliffjumper looked like he wanted to roll his optics, but Jazz had gotten the hint. He grabbed Cliff’s arm, pulling him out of the room. “Read you loud and clear, bossbot. Thanks!”

As they left, Optimus’s shoulders sank. “I’m not sure that’s going to be interpreted correctly.”

“It never is,” Ironhide said, shaking his helm. “I can knock their helms together if you think it would put some sense into them to leave Galvatron and his little group alone.”

Optimus stroked his chin. “It is curious though, ‘Hide. What would make them work together?”

Starscream woke with a strangled gasp. He sat up in his berth, his chest heaving and his optics blown wide.

It took him a moment to realize he was awake. It took him even longer to remember how to vent.

Every recharge had been the same for the past year. He’d fall asleep, letting the void take him, and he’d suddenly feel watched. It was unpleasant, but it wasn’t really awful.

Until he saw the optics. They were the same optics outfitted with Trypicon’s optic sensors he had happily supplied to Unicron all those years ago, staring back at him with cruel intelligence and disdain. They burned into Starscream, boring into his core and sapping his strength, trapping him in the berth like a pinned insecticon on display. He was frozen, fear creeping into his lines as panic gripped his throat. His wings were immobilized; he couldn't feel the wind. He was trapped somewhere tight, and yet still those optics stared at him, growing closer, drowning him in sickly awful light—

There was a knock at his door, and he mumbled words indicating he was awake.

Galvatron stood there, the first rays of the sun framing him like some kind of emblazoned figure from the Covenant of Primus. His optics bore into Starscream, cold but knowing. Starscream was reminded of the moment they had first met at Starscream’s coronation, moments before his death. He shivered.

“Are you all right?” Galvatron asked softly. “I heard you cry out.”

Starscream paused, thinking. He ran a hand down his face, wiping condensation from his fans, as a denial almost flowed off his glossa. But he didn’t see the point. “The dreams are getting worse,” he croaked instead.

Galvatron stared back, his lips in a tight line. Starscream thought he might have detected sympathy if it had been any other mech, but he couldn't see that on Galvatron’s face, could he?

“It’s time to go," Galvatron said lowly, turning to leave Starscream in the dark.

Starscream pulled himself out of the berth, and after a quick wash, he emerged from his berthroom to see that everyone looked like they had slept as awfully as he had.

“Soundwave will chart our course,” Galvatron said, addressing all of them. “But I will be leading this expedition.” He gave a not-so-subtle glance at Starscream. “My orders will be obeyed.”

Starscream folded his arms unhappily but said nothing.

Their little band started filtering out of the apartment again as if they didn’t realize this was all a waste of time. Starscream pitied them for being so naïve, but at least he was under no delusion.

Starscream's optics met Galvatron's for a brief moment. Increasingly, Starscream realized he didn't know this mech; his behavior was new and unpredictable. Without his cannon, he looked smaller somehow. Fierce, but in a way that wasn’t looming.

With a determined stride, Starscream took the lead, his wings flaring slightly as he walked toward the hallway and out of the apartment complex.

Things were slow in the beginning.

They set up inside Astrotrain’s shuttle bay, which was still not too big. There was enough room for a table, chairs, and storage for their energon, but other than the cockpit, there wasn’t much else that could fit. Starscream resigned himself to growing to loathe his fellow travel partners.

The trip out to the general area where Unicron had met his demise was going to be a bit long, so Starscream took up residence in the cockpit, looking out at the stars as they flew through space.

“What did you log in your flight plan?” Starscream asked, suddenly curious. “I doubt ‘god-hunting’ would have gone over well with our Autobot overlords.”

“You’d be surprised how many former Decepticons got jobs in interesting places,” Astrotrain replied. “But no, I said ‘nostalgic sight-seeing.’”

“Clever. Hopefully, it will just be us seeing a sight and then getting the hell out of there.”

“I could not agree more.”

Starscream leaned back in the chair, tilting his chin up, letting his thoughts consume him again.

Soundwave appeared in the cockpit. “Astrotrain: set coordinates for Aldebaran Bar and Diner.”

“You have a lead?” Starscream asked with a bored drawl.

Hot Rod’s annoyingly chipper face appeared as well. “Yep! Some old acquaintances of mine are there. They might even give us some free information."

Starscream arched an optic ridge at Soundwave, who appeared to sigh. “Doubtful, but... promising,” Soundwave supplied.

Starscream craned his neck so that he could see into the cargo hold, immediately finding Galvatron sitting at the table and looking over a map. He looked completely engrossed in whatever he was studying.

“You could go talk to him,” Hot Rod said, smirking.

Starscream sneered. “I just like to keep tabs on my former murderer at all times. Just in case.”

Hot Rod rolled his optics and flopped down in the chair opposite him. Starscream’s sneer turned into a scowl. “You really gotta sing a different tune. It’s getting kind of annoying.”

“But accurate,” Starscream replied. “And I want to constantly remind everyone that we are following a mech who has killed more than the rest of us combined.”

Hot Rod traced the inside of his cheek. “He did so at Unicron’s behest.”

Starscream’s scowl curved into a smile. “And I did horrible things at Megatron’s, yet still, I’m considered a bad guy. What’s your point?”

Perhaps Hot Rod was too young and inexperienced without the Matrix, or perhaps he was already tired of Starscream’s antics that he just gave up. He threw his hands up in surrender. “Whatever! Don’t go talk to him, even if I know you want to. Just keep watching him like a turbopuppy who wants his master to notice him.”

Starscream’s optics darkened. He reigned in his field and clamped his plating close to his protoform. By sheer will alone, his wings remained still.

“Oh, boy,” Astrotrain’s disembodied voice said. “You’ve done it now, kid.”

Hot Rod narrowed his optics. “What?”

“I would just tread lightly," Astrotrain said, almost laughing. "Starscream goes scary silent and still when he’s plotting your murder.”

Starscream scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you know my tells. I’m always plotting someone’s murder.”

Astrotrain laughed, which immediately made Starscream smirk and lose a little of the fury he had accumulated against Hot Rod. The situation diffused, he didn’t feel the need to claw the mech’s optics out.

Yet.

“We are almost to your coordinates, Soundwave,” Astrotrain announced. “Requesting permission to dock.”

Hot Rod and Soundwave filtered out of the cockpit, and Starscream followed shortly behind, sensing it was time to plan.

“So, what do you need us to do?” 353 asked, wringing his hands. “I’m not very good at subterfuge.”

“There’s no need for it,” Galvatron replied. “You just need to buy some of our supplies that we couldn’t get on Cybertron,” he added, handing the Sweeps a datapad with a list. “Try and haggle if you can; our funds are not limitless.”

Hot Rod looked ready to say something, but Galvatron threw him a sharp look, making the young mech shut up. Starscream filed that away later to figure out what that meant.

“The rest of you will be helping us gather information as best you can. We are trying to ask if there have been any strange spatial anomalies or things that might point to Unicron’s resurrection. We don’t want to say his name explicitly because it will garner too much attention.”

“Like us all being together won’t do that," Starscream muttered.

“They barely have any Cybertronians in this part of the galaxy! They won’t know who we are or used to be.” Hot Rod chimed in. “We should be fine.”

So when they walked into the seedy bar, and everyone paused to stare, and then half of the patrons spit on the floor, Starscream knew Hot Rod’s intelligence was a little outdated. And the rest of his “intelligence” was suspect, in all senses of the phrase.

They stood out as they separated and found seats throughout the bar, as most of the inhabitants here were organic, not mechoid. Creepy white tentacled things that looked like they descended from Quintessons gave them a particularly unimpressed glance.

Galvatron sat at the bar front and center, where everyone could see him, and many patrons watched him with shrewd eyes and optics. A few noticed his missing cannon and pointed in hushed whispers drowned out by the obnoxious music, but Galvatron ordered a hard drink and stared down at anyone who looked his way.

Hot Rod immediately found some acquaintances of his and clapped them on the back in greeting.

On the other hand, Starscream chose a corner booth where he could observe the entire bar without drawing too much attention to himself. He leaned back against the cushioned seat, his optics scanning the dimly lit establishment. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and dampness and filled with a mixture of alien chatter.

Starscream was wary. He would never have come to a place like this when he had been roughing it alone after getting his body back. Too many curious eyes and optics could worsen a bad day, especially if someone thought someone would still pay Starscream's bounty Galvatron had placed on him.

Speaking of the mech, Galvatron, seemingly unfazed by the hostile atmosphere, conversed with a burly alien at the bar. Starscream strained his audials to catch snippets of their discussion, but the noise in the establishment made it difficult. He watched as Galvatron gestured animatedly, his crimson optics shining as his story gained crescendo. The alien seemed enthralled, and Starscream glowered in disgust.

Meanwhile, Hot Rod's enthusiasm garnered attention from a group of rowdy locals. He found himself amid lively conversation, exchanging stories and laughter. Starscream narrowed his optics, a mix of annoyance flickering across his face.

Starscream eventually found Soundwave, ever the silent observer, as he leaned against the wall not far from Galvatron. His visor scanned the room with his usual stoicism, occasionally flickering as he undoubtedly took stills. His presence alone unsettled some of the patrons, who exchanged nervous glances in his direction.

Someone slid into the booth across from Starscream.

"Starscream. Long time, no see."

Starscream's optics narrowed to pinpricks as he put on a fake smile. "Anai. It has been long, hasn't it? How have you been?"

The android lacked a mouth, but Starscream could see his round, singular optic spin in amusement as it focused on him. "Just dandy. Saw you running with a gaggle of misfit has-been Decepticons. But I thought you wanted the ‘solo life.’”

Starscream shrugged, flicking his wings back. “Things change; I grew bored. These idiots were easy to manipulate.”

Anai’s optic irised again as he leaned closer. “So, it’s a scheme, then? I’m so glad to see you haven’t changed.” The words were definitely bitter coming out of Anai's speakers.

Starscream resisted the urge to roll his optics. Was it Starscream’s fault the poor sod had thought Starscream’s past flirting was legitimate? Everything was a scheme with him—he didn’t know how to operate otherwise!

He might need to unpack that later.

Starscream's attention was abruptly pulled back to Galvatron as the mech at the bar pointed to a distant corner of the establishment. Galvatron nodded in acknowledgment, leaving some credits on the counter before approaching the indicated spot.

Curiosity piqued, Starscream discreetly watched as Galvatron approached a solitary alien sitting alone, nursing a drink. There was a brief exchange of words, and then the two began conversing in low, tense words. Starscream strained his audials, trying to catch a snippet of anything they discussed.

“Hey,” Anai said, waving in front of his face. “I’m talking to you! You’re watching that purple mech awfully hard.”

Starscream scoffed. “I’m not doing anything of the sort—”

Anai was suddenly leaning across the table, his pale green optic filling up all of Starscream’s vision. “You know how I hate to be ignored.”

Starscream’s optics involuntarily dimmed. His plating pulled tight against his frame, and his actuators tensed for him to run. He only just managed to stop his wings from dipping like they wanted to.

His past with this android reminded Starscream why he often preferred to be alone.

Anai stared momentarily before a bubbling laugh came out of his speakers. “Wow, relax, Star! No need to get all choked up! We just found each other again; we shouldn’t ruin it with overreactions. Let me buy you a drink, okay?” Anai slid out of the booth, walking rapidly over to the bar on his spindly legs.

Without a second thought, Starscream scrambled out of the booth and headed in the opposite direction. Of all the fragging bars in the universe and of all the entities he had to run into, why did it have to be Anai? That terrible and familiar feeling of a pit in his tanks was forming; the loneliness and self-loathing that Anai and others just like him had helped foster in Starscream’s psyche came back with a vengeance. Just as he was about to disappear into the lavatory, a hand grabbed him.

Starscream’s wings fell, and he rounded on whoever had grabbed him, only to see Galvatron standing beside him and leaning in as if to tell him a secret.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his face close and his optics looking over Starscream with something like concern.

Starscream narrowed his optics. “Since when did you care?” he threw back, pulling his arm free. He wasn't ready for the sentiment to be genuine. Not from him.

Galvatron, for some stupid reason, looked shocked at the question. Instead of answering, he asked his own. “Who’s that android? Did he say something to you?”

Starscream fidgeted unhappily. “I would rather just—”

A loud crash sounded from the far side of the bar. All eyes and optics trained on Hot Rod, sprawled out on the ground on a collapsed table, slowly trying to get up. His purple and blue plating was covered in spilled energon, alcohol, and other drinks. He rubbed his jaw. “Now, that was hardly sporting,” he said bitterly.

A giant lizard creature loomed over him, looking incensed. “What was that, you little punk? Do I need to punch you again?”

Hot Rod wrinkled his nose, opening his mouth to say something in reply when suddenly Galvatron was beside the lizard. Starscream did a double take—he didn’t even hear the mech move.

“He said that was hardly sporting. Maybe this will be better?” Galvatron said as he punched the lizard in the face.

Things descended quickly after that. Chairs scraped the floors, everyone stood up, and the bar erupted into a chaotic brawl. Patrons joined the fray, some taking sides and others simply seeking to escape the carnage.

One of the lizard’s friends tackled Galvatron, who was smiling brilliantly as the fight broke out. Hot Rod gave a whoop and tackled the lizard about the knees, causing him to fall backward. Many other bar patrons tried to funnel past the bar to join in on the action but missed a surreptitious leg extended from Soundwave. They tripped and fell on each other in a heap.

Starscream sensed someone winding up to punch him, and he dodged with a snarl and used his wing to smack the attacker out of the way. “We should be fine, you said! They won’t know who we are, you said!”

Hot Rod had the lizard in a headlock, giving Starscream a scowling pout. “It’s not my fault!”

Soundwave sidestepped around someone trying to make a grab for him, and instead, the attacker fell flat on their face. “Query: Who’s fault is it, then?”

Galvatron laughed boisterously as an alien grabbed him, trying to choke him. Instead, Galvatron headbutted them and then grabbed his drink off the bar, swallowing the energon in one gulp. “I, for one, am glad they know who we are! Cuts to the chase, don't you think?"

Starscream sighed dramatically as another patron charged at him. In the back of his mind, though, he noticed they were outnumbered, trapped with no clear way out. It was becoming increasingly apparent that their presence in the bar had attracted more attention than they had anticipated. The locals, fueled by alcohol and a desire for a good fight, seemed determined to make them regret stepping foot in their establishment.

He threw the charging patron over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together as if cleaning off the dirt from it. A pair of twin cyborgs decided to try their luck with Starscream and crowded around him. Starscream was already over it but fought back. He gave ground, though, and backed up because he didn’t really feel like pushing too hard. He just wanted to find an exit and get out of there.

As things developed, Starscream found himself fighting back-to-back with Galvatron. This was not the position Starscream had wanted to end up in, but as their adversaries kept trying to go after his wings, he found himself seeking a way to defend them.

To his surprise, they still fought well together.

“Here, I softened him up for you!” Galvatron said, tossing a beaten rock creature to him.

Starscream snarled and did a kick to the creature’s face, resulting in some of the rock falling to the ground. Starscream sneered and then did another judicious kick, knocking the creature back. Galvatron clapped mockingly, and Starscream stuck out his glossa at him.

"Mature," Galvatron replied as he met a charging tentacle creature, grabbed it, and spun it upside down, only to piledrive its head into the sticky bar floor.

"If you wanted mature, you shouldn't have brought the ex-Prime blueberry," Starscream spat back. Hot Rod was currently holding on for dear life as a mech had picked him up to spin him, possibly preparing to throw him.

"Soundwave more than cancels both of you out," Galvatron replied as he pointed to a tall, lanky alien watching him from the sidelines. Galvatron beckoned them over with the curl of his finger. The alien obliged as he and Galvatron began to trade blows.

Speaking of Soundwave, he appeared to be holding his own against multiple opponents. The mech fought with calculated precision, incapacitating attackers one by one. Starscream briefly wondered if Soundwave had a personal vendetta against bars, given how efficiently he seemed to neutralize threats within them.

In the midst of the chaos, Starscream caught sight of Anai. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, a mischievous glint in his optic as he observed the Starscream brawl from a safe distance. Starscream couldn't stifle the tremble of rage in his wings.

Galvatron's laughter echoed over the din as he exchanged blows with the tall, lanky alien. Their battle was a showdown between strength and speed, with both fighters attempting to outdo each other. Galvatron's crimson optics burned with excitement and enjoyment, relishing the chaos surrounding them.

Starscream took a punch to the tanks and was very miffed about it. He let out an infuriated growl, retaliating with a swift uppercut that sent his attacker sprawling backward. Still struggling against the mech who held him, Hot Rod freed himself with a well-placed knee to the codpiece. Starscream couldn't help but smirk at the sight, briefly forgetting the chaos around them.

Starscream couldn't deny the thrill that surged through his own circuits as he fought alongside Galvatron. Despite their history, an undeniable and familiar harmony emerged in the heat of battle. They fought as one, covering each other's blind spots and seamlessly coordinating their attacks.

It was reminiscent of fighting with Megatron early in the war, when things were less about grand political gestures and more about throwing your weight around at a dive bar to gain local clout. Starscream remembered those days fondly, wishing sometimes that things had stayed so simple. Megatron had been so accessible and more open about his feelings and affections then.

With a quick glance, Starscream met Galvatron’s optics. There was a brief exchange of smirks, and Starscream felt the familiar tingle in his trigger finger, wishing to wield a super-charged gun with expert precision and poise. Galvatron must have thought similarly as his frame relaxed and he assumed the position Megatron often did when he was about to transform. Galvatron transformed without a second glance, knowing Starscream would always catch him.

For a brief moment, Starscream thought he could forget his death at this mech’s hands. He could forget all their bickering and petty squabbling; this was what it all was about. To wield one another as weapons against a common enemy was intimacy itself.

That is if they had remembered that Galvatron no longer turned into a gun.

He was a fucking cannon now.

It was with a cry of anguished dismay that Starscream saw the transformed body of Galvatron slowly descending upon him. It happened in slow motion, with Starscream seeing nothing but purple rivets and plating falling on his face and then crashing into his chassis. The mech didn’t exactly mass-shift to be smaller, and even without the orange barrel of his usual gun, he was still ludicrously heavy. As Galvatron’s form collided with him, Starscream couldn’t even get a curse out of his screeching mouth before the crushing weight sent him offline.

Chapter Text

Starscream roused a few hours later, according to his chronometer. He groaned and grimaced, putting his hand up to soothe the pounding in his helm.

“Shh, dear,” someone murmured to him. “You’ll probably be sore for a few more hours. I think. I’m not really sure since you are the only one with your condition I’ve ever encountered. ”

Brow furrowing, Starscream desperately tried to open his optics. The voice sounded hauntingly familiar but far more kind than it should have been. “...Warp?” he whispered in confusion.

There was an awkward pause and then a hum. “… er, no. It’s 353.”

Starscream cracked open an optic and glared at the mech leaning over him. “Eegh, get away from me,” he said bitterly, pushing the Scourge-like clone out of his face.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” 353 replied patiently. “I didn’t think that could happen to someone with… your condition. Why didn’t you phase through? You were rather comically flattened— ”

“Yes, thank you,” Starscream replied, sitting up quickly. He winced as his helm throbbed and error messages flooded onto his HUD. Immediately, he noticed he was back inside Astrotrain’s bay, lying up against the side of the wall. “Did we get any good information? Where are we going?”

353 bit his bottom lip. “To my understanding, we got a general lead, but it wasn’t substantive.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “Great. Just… great. Where is — ”

“Galvatron is up in the cockpit talking with Soundwave and Hot Rod.”

Again, Starscream found himself trying to bite back a screech of rage. “I don’t care about him . I wanted to know where 789 was,” he said quickly, with false confidence. “You two seemed joined at the hip.”

Interestingly, 353 instantly blushed, and his hands that had been about to help Starscream sit up instead fluttered down to his side. “He was, erm, still getting supplies since we had to leave so quickly. He is going to rendezvous with us later.”

Starscream arched an optic ridge and gave him a knowing look. “Perhaps I meant you two are often joined in… more intimate ways.”

353 gave a scandalized gasp. “Well, certainly not lately within Astrotrain! That would be rude.” He stood and walked away, going to busy himself somewhere else.

Now confirmed in his suspicions, Starscream wondered how to use this to his advantage. He could pit them against each other. Try to introduce a third to create a faux triangle —

“ You know , It would be rude to get it on inside my bay ,” Astrotrain said from a speaker next to Starscream. “ Even though plenty of mechs have forgotten that little bit of etiquette.”

Starscream huffed. “You’re best when you’re just pretending to be a taxi. Usually, they don’t talk.”

Astrotrain snorted. “What crawled up your actuator?”

Starscream scowled, his optics narrowing at Astrotrain's remark. "Just shut up; I've had enough incessant chatter for one cycle."

Astrotrain chuckled. "Fine, fine. But don't come crying to me when you realize how much you miss my delightful company."

Starscream waved a dismissive hand. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, his joints protesting at the movement. Standing upright, he limped to the cockpit, wincing as he went. He noticed Galvatron, Soundwave, and Hot Rod were still conversing. Infuriatingly, they didn’t seem to care to wait until he was awake!

He approached them, still bristling with annoyance. "So, what's the plan now? Did any of you manage to acquire useful information?!" 

Galvatron turned to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, the mighty Starscream emerges from his beauty sleep. Did you have pleasant dreams, my dear Seeker?"

Starscream scowled at the taunt, trying to ignore the emotions flickering through his processor at the last part of that statement. "Considering why I was sleeping? No, I had nightmares of being crushed to death.” Galvatron didn’t seem the least bit chastised by the statement, which made Starscream wrinkle his nose in displeasure. "We're wasting time here. What did you find out?"

Galvatron's smirk faded, and he glanced at Soundwave, who pulled out a datapad with notes. "Limited success,” Soundwave said flatly. “We gathered some intel on an old mining facility nearby that is promising. There are rumors of Cybertronian metals coming out of there in large quantities, potentially indicating Unicron’s body ended up there, at least in part. The location is heavily guarded, and the chances of finding Unicron there are uncertain."

Starscream's wings twitched with frustration. "Uncertain? That's not good enough. We can't afford to waste any more time on wild cybergoose chases. We need concrete information."

Hot Rod rolled his shoulders. "Hey, it's not like we have an entire army at our disposal. We're a small team."

Starscream's optics flared with anger. "Really, Hot Rod? I had no idea!” he sneered. “I know the limitations of our group, but that doesn't mean I'll settle for half-baked plans and unreliable leads."

Hot Rod rolled his optics, shooting Galvatron an annoyed look. Something about that little glance turned Starscream’s tanks, and he was about to yell at them about it before Hot Rod cut him off. “Don’t bite my helm off just because you’re embarrassed your little fighting date with Galvatron ended up with you hilariously sprawled — ”

“ FIGHTING DATE?” Starscream screeched.

“Hot Rod,” Galvatron said sternly. “Take a walk.”

Hot Rod flicked his spoiler back and stomped out of the cockpit. “ Where?!” he cried, throwing out his arms, but left anyway, presumably to pace in the bay.

Soundwave's visor flickered. "Starscream's concern is valid. We must focus our efforts on obtaining more precise information before launching any rescue operation."

“Thank you, Soundwave. You’re dismissed.”

Soundwave’s spinal strut went rigid at the statement, and his visor dimmed. Starscream thought he was about to disobey or talk back, but he didn’t. He left, too, closing the door on his way out.

Starscream sneered. “What, are you going to scold me, Galvatron? I’ll remind you that I’m not–”

“We’ll drop you off at the nearest space station,” Galvatron replied calmly. “We can give you some shanix for your trouble.”

Starscream blanched. “I–what?”

Galvatron’s expression was unreadable. “You’re endangering everything with your attitude.”

“ My attitude?!” Starscream balked. “What about yours?! I told you several times I would not help you in any way, shape, or form–"

“And yet, here you are. Still.”

Starscream’s mouth snapped shut audibly. He glared hotly, hating the mech before him with such ferocity that if Soundwave had read his mind, it might have burned him. "You told me you needed me. You got me fired from my job, which was likely my last chance at having a normal life. You drag me along to the Prime, to a dive bar—and now that I'm inconvenient, you're dumping me?"

Galvatron's lips formed a tight line, and then he sighed. "Every mech here wants to be. I thought you understood the importance of our task. Trying to tear us down and manipulate us at every turn gets old, Starscream.” Galvatron sighed heavily. “But it's not just your attitude. Your ability to get into trouble often outweighs your usefulness–"

Starscream flared his wings. "Hot Rod got us into that mess, not me! And you threw the punch that set everyone off!"

Galvatron didn't get angry enough to retort; instead, he looked at the ground like he was reluctant to bring something up. "Who was that android?"

His voice was soft and could even be construed as gentle. 

Starscream barely managed to keep his EM field reigned in and not spike in fear. "None of your damn business."

Galvatron snapped his optics back at Starscream with scathing scrutiny. "Did you know he tried to walk off with you when you were unconscious? After you went down, we kept fighting. Eventually, Hot Rod used his flame outlier to make our attackers finally back off. When we turned around, the android was in the process of picking you up."

The energon in Starscream’s lines turned to ice. Part of his processor stalled, regressing to a state of fear at the realization that he had gone in over his helm with people he barely knew. Another part of him was still on guard in front of Galvatron , knowing he had put him at the mercy of Anai in the first place. But he couldn’t stop the spiral of his mind as it unspooled into anxiety and fear of what could have been.

If they hadn't noticed Anai, what would have happened to him? What did Anai want–

"I don't have a lot of shanix on hand, but Hot Rod is flush with it,” Galvatron continued, either oblivious to Starscream’s state of mind or not caring. “We can drop you off anywhere you'd like with enough funds to do whatever you'd like."

"What? Why?" Starscream rasped.

"We pulled you out of your comfort zone,” Galvatron admitted, folding his arms across his chest. “Perhaps you just want to lay low. I hadn't anticipated you had your own demons to fight already."

Starscream bit the inside of his cheek. Why did the option of getting out now sound so unappealing? He had been looking for a way to escape this entire time, but now it felt like he'd never see any of them again if he left. And somehow, that seemed bad.

"You're confusing me," Starscream said softly. "If you don't want me, I'll just go."

Now Galvatron looked soft again, and Starscream still had no idea what could make him look like that.

"You… could stay,” Galvatron replied. “Having someone else who can sense Unicron makes strategic sense. And Primus knows the trouble you’ll get into if we leave you alone.” He smirked, and Starscream found himself wanting to smirk back. “But if you stay, try to lay off Hot Rod."

Starscream narrowed his optics. "You two grew awfully close."

Galvatron leaned back against the control console. "When I was serving my time in prison for my crimes during the war, he came to visit. We talked a lot and found we had some things in common."

"What could you two possibly have in common?"

"Well, being leaders of factions, for one thing,” Galvatron said, his optics dancing. “Being modified against your wishes to serve the will of some greater force is another."

Starscream wanted to scoff in reply but settled for a suspicious look. “And it was so hard for Hot Rod to obey the matrix, was it?”

“Regardless of the difficulty, it wasn’t freedom. When the opportunity presented itself, Hot Rod was happy to be free of the burden of being a Prime, just as I was to be rid of Unicron.”

Starscream raised his optic ridges in surprise. He hadn't thought of it that way. 

Galvatron shrugged. "He also introduced me to fishing, which I found I quite enjoy."

Starscream rolled his optics. "You are such an old mech."

"And you are still a brat . But perhaps we need you yet."

There was a pause, and Starscream realized many firsts had just happened in this short conversation; he was having trouble keeping up. They hadn’t insulted each other to the point that Starscream wanted to kill him. They seemed to have found a resolution that made both sides win. And finally, Galvatron had almost said he wanted to have Starscream around, and Starscream’s wings hiked up a little higher on his back at the thought.

" Glad you two figured it out,” Astrotrain said, annoyed. “Now stop talking so I can engage the autopilot and recharge." 

Starscream stood and went to leave the cockpit, but paused at the door.

"You know..." he started. "If I wanted to leave, I would. I'm an aft, but I'm not a masochist."

Galvatron stared at him in bewilderment for a second before cracking a small grin. “I’m sure that’s why you stayed with the Decepticons despite my terrible leadership.” He traced the inside of his cheek with his glossa. “Any other past relationships I need to be worried about?"

Starscream smirked back. "It depends on what your intentions are."

He left before he could hear the answer.

They spent the next two days traveling at quite a clip, surprising even Soundwave with their efficiency. It didn’t help that Galvatron, Hot Rod, and Starscream constantly asked how much longer it would take. Their impatience wore on Astrotrain’s nerves.

“Are we there yet?” Hot Rod, he said, his cheek resting on his hand as he slumped over the controls in the cockpit.

Astrotrain gave a full-frame shutter. “ For the third time, no ,” he said, sounding like he was clenching his denta.

Starscream smirked in amusement. He had known the triple-changer long enough to know when he was about to snap. His wicked spark looked forward to the blow-up.

Galvatron came in, looked at their location on the map, and frowned. “Any way you can speed this up, Astrotrain? I seem to remember you going faster before.”

“ Not unless you want me to snap a strut,” he replied, still surly. “ Then we will never get there.”

789 entered the cockpit, too, unfortunately not realizing the situation, and asked, “How much longer? I’m sick of this cramped cabin.”

“ THAT’S IT!” he cried. “ I’m done putting up with all of you ungrateful passengers—we're not in the war anymore! I have a say!”

Hot Rod looked amused. “And what do you have to say?” he asked smugly.

Astrotrain growled at the taunt. “ None of you are sleeping until I do. We’re stopping somewhere so that I can get a decent recharge. And my cabin is a decent size, thank you very much.”

Galvatron pinched the top of his nose. “Astrotrain, we don’t have time—”

“ MAKE TIME,” Astrotrain replied. “ Or else you all can walk to Unicron. I don’t care.”

Soundwave’s visor flared brighter, telling Starscream that he was searching his databanks. Hot Rod and Astrotrain continued to bicker, with the former clearly just enjoying riling him up. Starscream leaned back against the wall, folding his arms as he watched this play out. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Astrotrain was rebelling at this juncture and thought it should have happened sooner than this. Astrotrain had been quite grumbly about this whole adventure and still didn’t seem entirely convinced any of the threats were real.

Come to think of it, Starscream needed to figure out what Astrotrain was getting from this excursion. In fact, Soundwave and Astrotrain both seemed odd for this group, other than their past associations. But why were they here? Something about that upset Starscream's tanks, triggering his sense of unease, and he narrowed his optics, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him.

"Recharge location: acquired," Soundwave said tiredly. "Sleepy Space Time Motel."

"Eh, Sounders, I'm not sure we should be staying anywhere in this part of the galaxy," Hot Rod added anxiously. "Places around here are usually cheap, but for good reason—"

"Cheap is fine," Galvatron replied. "If it gets our transport happy and moving again as soon as possible."

"I'm surprisingly with Hot Rod on this one," Starscream piped up from the side. "We can afford a better place, and perhaps we should."

Hot Rod opened his mouth to perhaps say thank you, but Astrotrain interrupted. " We can wait, but I'm not sure you all can really afford it. I will be blaring my favorite hits from Earth and intend to sing along."

"Oh, I dig Earth music. How bad can it be?" Hot Rod said foolishly.

They got about ten seconds into the song before Galvatron snarled at Soundwave to start navigating to the motel at double speed.

When they arrived, they all crowded the lobby, and Starscream immediately hated everything about this place.

The floor had a strange pattern of pink and apricot striations, and it was so heavily padded that he almost had trouble walking. The place reeked of moist mildew, and the air was oddly warm. He felt like he needed a shower just walking past the empty couches and chairs.

“I have never seen a group so big before!” the host said excitedly from behind the desk. They were orange and had a bulbous head that sported two stalk eyes that glowed bright blue. “I’m so pleased you chose our establishment for your evening!”

“But you can accommodate us?” Galvatron asked. “There was barely any notice.”

The host blinked a few times and then shrugged. “We have many vacancies. Not many repeat customers.”

Starscream slowly closed his optics while exventing. “ That doesn’t bode well.”

“Correction: Beggars can’t be choosers,” Soundwave replied, strutting off after the host. 

“Correction!” Starscream called. “I absolutely can do whatever the frag I want!”

“No one doubts that, sweetspark,” 353 said, walking past him. 789 had just appeared in the lobby, and the two greeted each other with soft smiles. “You’re late,” 353 said, gently punching him in the shoulder.

“Sorry,” 789 replied, smirking. “I got a great deal on escape pods. Couldn’t resist!”

Starscream blinked. “We’re fucking planes ,” he called. “We can fly. In space. Why on Cybertron did you get escape pods?”

“Maybe someone will get incapacitated,” 789 replied arrogantly. “I was promised they could hold even ghosts.”

Starscream let his confusion cloud his face. “Why would that matter?” But the two of them ignored him when 353 leaned over to whisper something apparently sweet in 789’s audial.

Disgusting. In fact, Starscream was about to go over to them and sneer when Galvatron grabbed his shoulder. Starscream’s thoughts were immediately stalled as he wheeled on the mech, affixing him with a glare. “ What?”

“Something is off,” Galvatron said quietly. “You are the most suspicious mech I know, so keep your optics open.”

Starscream scoffed, trying to be more offended than he was. In truth, he was a tiny bit flattered that Galvatron trusted him. He looked back at the two Sweeps staring at him while whispering. Their faces were grave, and Starscream was irritated once more. 

He walked briskly down the hall to their room, keyed entry, and was greeted by Hot Rod, Soundwave, and Astrotrain staring at the berth.

The single berth.

The single, giant berth, shaped like an octagon. Which, incidentally, was the shape of the host’s species’ heart.

“And if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask me! We have all kinds of… erm… accouterments you might require. Do you all use… lubricant or anything—”

“Oh, my Primus,” Hot Rod said with a quiet gasp, and he doubled over, leaning down on his upper thighs, trying to stay upright. He appeared to be fighting hysterical laughter.

“This can’t be happening,” Starscream whispered, scandalized. “You don’t have rooms for each of us?!”

“Why would you want rooms for each of you?” the host said. “How will you be a good polycule if you don’t spend intimate time together?”

Starscream slapped his forehead and let his hand wipe down his face. Hot Rod started laughing hysterically.

“At least the berth looks big enough, Star,” Astrotrain said, leaning against him and wrapping his arm around him. “But you can sit on my lap if you’d like?”

Starscream rolled his optics. “I demand my own room away from lovermech here.”

“There aren’t any more available,” Soundwave helpfully added. He quickly transformed into his alt mode and presumably went to recharge while perched on the windowsill.

“Wow,” Starscream said derisively. “Mature, Soundwave!” He turned back towards the host. “I am not sleeping on that berth.”

Hot Rod regained some of his composure and leaned against Starscream’s other side. “You think the floor is any better?”

Starscream immediately lifted a pede, grimacing, wishing he were anywhere else. “Wait—you! Deceptive host creature! You said there were plenty of vacancies and hardly any guests. Get me another room.”

Their host bobbed its head regretfully. “Unfortunately, my vacancies are for creatures much smaller. This is the only room that can fit you.”

Starscream scowled. “ Astrotrain ,” he cooed. “Are you quite certain I can’t convince you to let me sleep inside your cargo bay?”

“I’m sleeping on that berth. I don’t care about the rest of you,” Astrotrain said, walking over to said berth. He sat down to test its firmness and laid down in it, appearing satisfied. His face erupted in a cocky smile, and he made a “come hither” gesture to Starscream with his digit.

“Idiot,” Starscream said, folding his arms. Hot Rod, though, smirked and bounded across the floor to fall into the berth. He appeared to cuddle Astrotrain jokingly. “It’s actually not bad!”

Astrotrain seemed a little put off at first by the former Autobot wrapped around him, but then seemed to shrug and not care. He held Hot Rod back and smirked at Starscream. “You’re losing all the prime real estate, Starscream!”

They had reached that stage of familiarity. Puns.

Starscream looked back at the host, who, for some reason, hadn’t left yet. “There must be some other arrangement we could make with you. A roof. A pool. Any other place than this single, hideous berth?”

The host didn’t look the least offended, but they had to force themselves to pull their eyestalks away from the sight unfolding on the berth. “No, sorry, we don’t have any other amenities other than a bar, as our guests are usually too… occupied with each other to need anything else!”

Starscream grimaced. “Wonderful.”

“It’ll be just like the trenches,” Galvatron said, joining them in the room. He didn’t even bat an optic as he sat down on the edge of the berth and sat beside Hot Rod. Starscream immediately hated that and was about to comment before the Sweeps returned. “Surely you remember those , Starscream.”

“Oh? How fun—a sleepover!” 353 commented.

789 smirked, tracing the lines of his mustache on his face with his digits. “Reminds me of the good old days when all the Sweeps used to room together. All piled together, on top of each other, teasing, touching-”

Starscream immediately shut his audials off to that conversation, guessing where it was going. “Does it not bother you that our hosts think we’re some kind of… intimate group ?”

“Well, aren’t we?” Hot Rod said, waggling his optic ridges. Giving Starscream a giant grin, he leaned back and casually wrapped his arm around Galvatron. “I’d say we could stand to get a little closer .”

Starscream clenched his jaw and spun on his pede. “I’m going to get a drink ,” he announced, leaving the bedfellows to rearrange themselves.

As he left, he overheard Hot Rod laugh. “I would have bet money he was about to get into the berth with you.”

Deciding he didn’t want to hear anything else, Starscream stormed down the hallway, trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks.

The hotel’s only amenity was a bar that seemed well-stocked with different types of fuel and drinks for many local alien species. However, it lacked other patrons to distract Starscream from his mood.

He couldn’t get the image of Hot Rod cozying up to Galvatron out of his helm. It shouldn’t matter to him at all, and he kept telling himself it didn’t matter. He didn’t care .

But something told him he was starting to.

Why though? The mech was insufferable, awful, and still a pest, yet Starscream had to admit… he had changed. He felt more like Megatron, even more so than Megatron had when they were on Earth. But what did that mean, anyway? So what if he was calmer, gentler, and more likable than he had been in a long time? Did that make up for everything?

Starscream tipped his helm back and threw back the shot of high grade he’d been nursing. It was bittersweet, just the way he liked it. “You’re better at this than you look,” he told the barkeep. 

The droid nodded as it kept polishing a glass. Starscream noticed the glass was already dry and shining, almost like the act was an idle animation programmed into its processor. “We usually only have one chance to get it right, as we don’t usually have repeat customers.”

“More of a transient group, then?” Starscream replied, waving for another pour.

The droid pulled out the bottles with a flourish to mix another shot, using black carbon flakes and sodium crystals to coat the rim of the glass. “Perhaps.”

Starscream narrowed his optics as he slung back the prepared shot, enjoying the taste and the energized buzz of energy in his systems.

“That’s bad for your health,” Galvatron said, sitting beside him at the bar.

“Ugh,” Starscream replied. “ You’re bad for my health.”

Galvatron smirked, then requested some kind of Tarnish whiskey from the droid, who immediately identified a good vintage and poured it into a crystal glass. “I’m surprised you’re still letting Hot Rod get under your plating.”

“He’s not ,” Starscream said hotly. “I just decided to disengage since I'm to lay off him for a bit. It seems you didn’t give him the same instruction.”

“I did, actually. He’s just not good at listening to me. You, however, are attempting to be good, which I appreciate.”

Starscream shook out his wings behind him. “I’m not trying to follow your orders . I just don’t want to get kicked off the team, as apparently, I am teetering on the edge.”

Galvatron frowned slightly. “I sense I might need to clear the air with you. You’re right that I hold you to a higher standard than I do Hot Rod, but that has more to do with the potential I know you have versus what I know about Hot Rod and his desire for fun and adventure.”

“Potential,” Starscream repeated, running the word over his lips. “Is this the same potential you turned to ash when you killed me?”

Perhaps it was the buzz of high grade, or maybe it was the simmering anger he still knew was just below the surface in his helm, but he was certainly being bold. His voice remained steady despite the quickening of the energon in his lines.

Galvatron stared at him, looking both disappointed and chastised at the same time. It was quite a feat. “You want to do this now?”

Starscream gave him a dangerous grin. “What better time? It’s not like we’re doing anything important right now.”

There was a beat as Galvatron sipped his whiskey and then relaxed his shoulders. “You know, I’ve often thought about why the first thing I wanted to do after becoming reformatted was to kill you.”

Those words wiped the grin right off Starscream’s face.

“You had angered me many, many times prior to abandoning me in space. You had tried to kill me, usurp me, humiliate me, and I know I had done the same to you. But as soon as I was Galvatron , I had a drive and a need to turn you to ash. I told myself it was to cement my place as the supreme Decepticon leader and destroy whatever kind of loyalty you had garnered in my absence. But I could have done that easily by pulling the cape off you, smashing your crown, and defeating you in combat—just like every other time. Why did you need to die?”

Starscream narrowed his gaze, actually contemplating his words. This felt oddly genuine and retrospective, and Galvatron didn’t have Megatron’s acerbic glossa punctuating the words with insults. It… was somehow dangerous. Too close and intimate, and it made him feel things. “I assumed you were trying to prove how different Galvatron would be from Megatron. You would not suffer disloyalty again.”

“The same disloyalty I wanted to show to Unicron? I wanted to kill him and take his power just like you had tried to many, many times before. I admit I am a hypocrite, but not often explicitly so. I have realized that perhaps the desire to kill you might not have been entirely mine alone.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Ah, the old ‘Unicron made me do it’ excuse. Spare me.”

“It would make sense,” Galvatron replied. “You would have been able to figure out a way to outsmart Unicron and free me from his power. In fact, you later proved you could when you managed to get your own body from him, away from his influence. If we were working together, actually together, I doubt there would have been much that could have stopped us.”

“Pity you didn’t realize that until it was too late,” Starscream snapped back.

Galvatron sighed. “That is what I’m trying to say.”

Starscream furrowed his brow, confused. “You’re saying you… regret it.”

Another drink appeared before Starscream, and he drank it quickly, even though it burned down his throat. He felt like he needed it to brace himself for Galvatron’s reply.

Galvatron was looking into his glass as if contemplating the complexities of its vintage. "I didn't have satisfaction from the act."

Starscream thought he heard the unspoken "that I thought I would" but didn't press it. That wasn't exactly expressing remorse, but it seemed eerily close. "You seemed to appreciate Cylconus's service as your second."

"Jealousy, my wayward seeker?" He sipped his drink. "Cyclonus was excellent, but he wasn't fun ."

Starscream snorted. The drinks had caught up with him, making his vision pleasantly swim and his helm fluffy. "It was fun being your second on occasion. I enjoyed the slag we pulled on Earth." Starscream waved a hand in front of his face. "Tell me more about how Unicron thought I was a threat."

Galvatron smiled. "It's a theory. You do have a tendency to divert plans, no matter who the author is."

Starscream found himself strangely drawn to his words. The tension between them seemed to dissipate, and his wings settled on his back. The annoying, almost childish leader Galvatron used to be had softened, revealing a nearly vulnerable side. A subtle warmth in his optics made Starscream's spark skip a beat. 

He had to admit he had never seen this side of Galvatron before.

“You seem less bombastic,” Starscream mused, leaning against the bar. “Sufferable, even.”

“I’m glad you noticed a difference. You, however, are still pleasantly the same.”

There could be an element of sarcasm attached to that statement, but Starscream didn’t detect that it was strong. “My skills to annoy have been honed, yes,” Starscream replied, leaning his cheek against his hand propped up on the bar. “My observation skills have also increased.”

Galvatron sipped his drink. “What have you observed?”

Starscream pursed his lips and then decided to speak his mind about what had been bothering him in the back of his mind. “Don’t you find it strange that Astrotrain—” 

"Galvatron," Soundwave said in his calm, deep voice. "Your presence is required to intervene in a wrestling match between 789 and Astrotrain. The Sweep might not survive."

There was a certain element of judgment in Soundwave’s tone that even Starscream, in his inebriated state, could pick up on. 

Galvatron straightened up, his previous vulnerability again masked by his stern expression. "We were merely having a conversation, Soundwave,” he seemed compelled to say. “Nothing important."

Starscream wrinkled his nose at that but said nothing as he sipped at another drink that had appeared at his elbow. The bartender had disappeared at some point.

Soundwave's visor flickered as he contemplated the pair. "It is unwise to linger here. Our current mission requires your full attention."

Starscream shot a glance at Soundwave, curious. Of course, the mission required their attention, but there was nothing happening now. They were here to rest . 

Soundwave didn’t want them talking, he realized. 

“Some things never change, do they, Soundwave?” he said bitterly. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but things flowed easier off his glossa with the high grade. With a disturbed shake of his wings, he realized he was angry that his conversation had been cut short with Galvatron. He wanted to talk more.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Soundwave said flatly.

Galvatron finished his drink and stood up, seemingly unaffected by the interruption. "I'll see to it that we are ready. Excuse me." With a nod, he left the bar, heading back to the room.

Starscream watched him go and then turned on Soundwave to make fun of his paint or something. But Soundwave had closed the distance between them and was now standing precariously close. Starscream could see his eerie optics through his glossy visor.

“Starscream: Scheming.”

Starscream was suddenly offended, and any insult he conjured died on his glossa. “Am not!”

“Starscream is alive; therefore, Starscream is scheming.”

“I’ll have you know,” Starscream said, raising an optic ridge, “I did some of my best scheming when I was dead . But I’m not scheming now!” he added indignantly. 

“Leave Galvatron alone,” Soundwave said, leaning forward. “You’ve done enough to him.” 

Starscream glared back, unaffected. “ I’ve done enough— he came after me .”

“Then you should know better.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Starscream broke it by turning to finish his drink in two painful gulps. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then left the bar without saying another word.

Always Soundwave, always sticking his olfactory in business that had nothing to do with him! Starscream partly wished he had punched the mech for his impudence. 

A memory floated back to the surface of his mind from back on the Victory at the bottom of the Earth sea. Mechs were celebrating a good raid with well-deserved energon, drinking their fill. As a result, more than half of the army got overcharged and rowdy.

Starscream had come up with one of his worst ideas in a long time. But damn, Megatron had been incredible that day! He’d fought off Ironhide and then Optimus Prime himself without any underhanded tricks! Not that Starscream minded underhanded tricks, but it was all the more impressive that Megatron didn’t have to resort to them. 

Starscream had been setting up the energon converter when one of the Lambo twins appeared to try and stop him. Just as he was about to be flattened , Megatron appeared and threw the mech off the platform with prejudice. Starscream had… been rescued. By Megatron.

So now that he was emboldened by overcharge, he could make his appreciation apparent. He looked everywhere, but Megatron was oddly missing from the festivities.

Soundwave rudely told him he had monitor duty. Starscream smelled a turbo-rat since Soundwave was the one who set the schedule.

Still, Starscream complied and worked straight through the night, wondering why he deserved this punishment. He asked Megatron later what he had done, and Megatron looked at him oddly.

He reached the room and saw that most of the mechs were already asleep. There was a tiny space at the end of the berth that apparently had been reserved for him, so he went to it and curled up as small as he could.

When Starscream woke, his chronometer told him it was still in the middle of the recharge cycle. He slowly sat up with a groan as the bitter taste of high-grade burned in the back of his throat. He made a mistake by drinking so much, and here he was paying for it. A quick glance at Galvatron beside him showed that the mech had no such affliction. As usual, he was impervious to the toxic effect of indulging in too much high grade and slumbered peacefully at his side.

Today was full of strange feelings in his tanks, it appeared.

He felt something odd on the berth beside him and looked down, noticing a white substance had been poured out in a circle around him. He furrowed his brow and then leaned down to touch the circle, his sensors telling him it was NaCl. Salt.

“Odd,” he murmured. He then got out of the berth. This hotel was so squalid; perhaps it had fallen from the ceiling. He shivered in disgust.

There was a soft curse from the other side of the giant berth. “What was that?” Starscream asked in a whisper with an arched optic ridge.

“Ugh, nothing,” 789 replied petulantly. He rolled over on his side so that he was no longer facing Starscream, presumably to go back to sleep.

Starscream narrowed his optics. That clone was particularly annoying. What was he up to?

He ultimately decided he didn’t care; perhaps a walk could clear his helm. 

He stretched and walked to the door, but the handle was stuck tight. “What?” he said, pulling harder. Starscream then used two hands and then even tried to push off the wall with his pede, but the damn thing was stuck tight and would not budge. He grunted and then growled in frustration. He turned around to yell at his comrades for stupidly getting them locked inside the room.

Instead, he saw the mechs had been wrapped in tentacles, and he stood there dumbfounded. 789, in particular, had wide, panicked optics staring at him, but a tentacle was wrapped around his mouth, rendering him mute.

Large, thick tentacles were writhing across the floor and approaching him. They were eerily silent as they slithered on the ground and across the bed, coming out of the walls, the vents, and the ceiling as if they were merely holograms. Starscream was so surprised at the scene he held his vents and was frozen to the spot. 

Then it hit him.

Moist air. Soft carpet. No other guests in the hotel. Surprising, last-minute vacancy. Delighted, unnerving host. No typical hotel amenitites.

“Fuck,” Starscream said, slapping his forehead. “GET UP, YOU FOOLS!” he shrieked, pulling back to the corner of the room. “The fucking hotel is trying to eat us!”

Galvatron onlined immediately and snarled when the tentacles wrapped around him tighter. He pulled at them, but perhaps they identified him as the major threat in the room. They squeezed harder, and he was made immobile in their grasp. 

Panic swept across the mechs as they woke up and realized they were caught. “Really not into it!” Hot Rod said, his voice laced with static. “Generally, I like to negotiate kinks before—” a tentacle wrapped around his mouth, stopping whatever unfortunate overshare he was about to espouse.

Soundwave launched from his perch on the windowsill, spiraling into a transformation. He turned on his speakers and immediately began blasting the squirming tendrils with noise. The former Decepticons were immediately prepared and shut off their audials, but Hot Rod was a little slower on the uptake. He howled in pain before dialing down the gain himself.

Starscream jumped in and started to pull the tentacles off the others. The wriggling things appeared to go dormant in confusion due to the vibrations in Soundwave's sound blasts. He pulled one off Galvatron, and the mech was freed, baring his denta in fury. 

“We gotta get out of here!” Astrotrain said, pulling a tentacle off his waist. 

“Door’s locked,” Starscream said. “I have a feeling that’s why this place was so cheap and had space for us.”

“No shit, dipstick,” Hot Rod replied hotly.

Starscream growled in frustration. “I had agreed with you! This place was too cheap to be legitimate!”

Galvatron grimaced, standing up from the berth and stalking to the door. His field lashed angrily in every direction, and Starscream quietly stepped out of his way. It was odd that the anger wasn’t directed at him for once. 

Galvatron grabbed the door and bellowed as he pulled it off its hinges. He threw the door away and beckoned everyone to follow him. 

The mechs filtered out, and they began to run as best they could, but the whole hallway started to seize. The walls were dripping in what Starscream hoped was just saliva and not digestive acid, as if they were running down the throat of a large organic creature. The moisture increased, and a deep guttural rumbling echoed up from behind them, deeper in the hotel.

353 cried out when his hand touched some of the moist walls.

Digestive acid, then.

“Like I said, I did not consent to this kink!” Hot Rod said, kicking the wall. He grimaced when some of the acid got on the tip of his pede.

“The walls are closing in on us,” Astrotrain observed. “I don’t think it wants us to leave.”

Galvatron’s face darkened. “Then we will just have to convince them we aren’t worth the trouble.”

He unsubspaced a blaster he had stolen from the dive bar fight, and everyone else followed suit. 

“I will not be made a fool. Or a meal,” Galvatron growled, opening fire.

The floor undulated, rippling under their pedes and throwing them against the walls. The panic numbed the pain, but it still hurt. Starscream was flipped in the air, helm over pede, but managed to right himself by using his thrusters. Soundwave and Astrotrain surged ahead to try and get the door to the lobby open as 789 and 353 pulled each other up from the ground.

Starscream began firing from his own blaster, hitting the squishy, flesh-like wall. It flinched,, and an ungodly scream filled their audials, but Starscream didn’t slow down. He started to run after the others, but noticed that Hot Rod was not with them. He turned around and saw that the mech caught his pede in the floor like the creature had started to suck him into a lower chamber.

Starscream's spark raced as he saw Hot Rod struggling to free himself from the devouring floor. He sighed heavily, then transformed into his jet mode and blasted back toward Hot Rod, transforming mid-air to land beside him.

"Grab on!" he shouted urgently, extending his hand.

Hot Rod, his optics wide with terror, reached out and clasped Starscream's outstretched hand. With a powerful burst of his thrusters, Starscream managed to pull Hot Rod free just in time before the floor pulled him down completely. 

Galvatron's furious blasts were still echoing through the halls, weakening the strange organic structure of the hotel. The others had disappeared from the hallway, probably having found a way out.

Hovering in the air, Starscream sneered at the roiling floor and increased the burn of his thrusters. The powerful flame burned the fleshy substance, turning it black. 

The walls pulled back in shock. Then they surged close around them, intending to crush them.

“D-damn it,” Starscream breathed, trying to push back. Hot Rod similarly whined, giving the wall a kick. It didn’t help, and the pressure on their frames made their armor creak. Starscream gave a shout of alarm as darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision.

The pressure suddenly released, and Hot Rod and Starscream started coughing, suddenly able to vent. Galvatron was holding both of them, one in each arm. Before Starscream even had a chance to gape properly, he ran toward the open door.

Starscream was dizzy, but he was cognizant enough to realize they had managed to get to the lobby. Galvatron put them down on their pedes, and both Hot Rod and Starscream supported each other to stand up. Astrotrain, Soundwave, 789, 353, and Galvatron joined them in a circle, keeping their backs to each other. 

“Where’s the exit?!” Galvatron shouted, firing at some tentacles that had appeared again, trying a new tactic.

“It was here!” 353 said nervously. “I swear it was here just a few minutes ago!"

"It's moving the mouth?" Astrotrain asked as he dodged a few tentacles. “We’re never going to get out!”

“And whose fault is that?” Starscream asked weakly, still recovering from his close encounter in the hallway. He knew they were all thinking it, but as usual, no one had the courage to say it. 

Astrotrain gave him a glare, but there was little heat in it, at least for now. 

The walls pressed in on them, dripping acidic saliva all over their plating. They fired from their weapons as their circle closed in, and Starscream found himself back-to-back with Soundwave.

“Primus, I don’t want to die like this ,” Starscream cried. “At least last time, it was dramatic! Now it’s just ‘got caught in some kind of stupid love hotel trap and got eaten alive.’ It’s embarrassing!”

Soundwave stiffened as the soft wall swelled against him. He whined in static, and Starscream sympathized, having the same treatment on his own frame.

“There will be nothing left of us,” Starscream said. “We’ll be disintegrated down to a goo and then absorbed by this creature, and no one will even know. ”

Soundwave shivered and then planted his pedes, before unleashing a devastatingly loud blast of sound. Starscream thought he recognized the sound for a moment before it was lost to static.

The sound had very little effect. They cried out as their plating began to wear out against acid, burning their protoform and making some of them fall to their knees in agony.

Then… it stopped. The walls suddenly expanded, the acid retreated, and they were forcibly expelled into the void of space.

It was so sudden they barely had time to exvent before the hotel, now looking like the giant gelatinous beast it was, sped away and then went to transwarp, leaving them behind. They floated aimlessly for a second before realizing they were alive.

“What the actual fuck?” Hot Rod said, summarizing the events appropriately.

Chapter Text

They flew without comment for a few days. It was almost as if the unfortunate hotel incident didn’t happen except for the minor injuries that they sulked over in the close corners of Astrotrain’s cargo bay.

Hot Rod was particularly… weird. He kept giving Starscream furtive looks and offering him extra energon. Starscream supposed he could make this into a life debt if he cared; having a young Prime forever in your obligation would be an accomplishment. There were certainly benefits.

But Starscream knew he himself was off when he didn’t even try to take advantage of the situation. The idea of manipulating the bright-opticked mechling-wonder held very little joy for him, even though he thought it should. It was the kind of thing he would normally jump at. But no, he just scowled and waved the fawning Primeling off him.

Perhaps it was Galvatron that was affecting his mood? The mech hardly looked at him since saving his pathetic spark from the crushing hallway, appearing focused completely on maps and plans. He wouldn’t even rise to the occasional insult Starscream lobbed his way. Starscream’s frown deepened. The mech had been giving him a lot of attention as of late, and suddenly having it taken away sent his thoughts off like colors out of a prism.

Starscream was also annoyed because he kept waking up to strange things nearby. A circle of salt was around him on the floor. A ring made from an iron chain. A hastily scribbled glyph of warding appeared on the ground around him. Someone was playing a prank on him, and he wasn’t sure who.

Soundwave gave him a weird, long stare.

“What?” he snapped as he hogged the only mirror in Astrotrain’s hold. He was doing a shortened version of his morning routine and just polishing up a little. It was a terrible job, but at least it was something.

The other mechs were off stretching their struts outside in space. That just left Soundwave, Starscream, and the ever-present Astrotrain.

“Starscream: Consider leaving the mission? Presence redundant.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Galvatron seems to disagree with you.”

“Not anymore.”

That rankled Starscream a little. “Really? He and I hashed this out a week ago. I’ll leave if I’m not wanted, but I’m not going to be chased off by some two-bit—”

Soundwave gave a scandalized scoff. “I’m 8-bit, thank you!”

 “—stripped screw, acid washed, jangling junkheap!” Starscream invented harshly, about to go into it again, when Soundwave sighed. 

“Starscream: Consider… the danger. To you, particularly.”

The mech just wouldn’t stop , it appeared! Starscream sneered. “Again, you’re a little late. Galvatron already had the opportunity to give me his faux concern.”

Soundwave shook his helm. “This is about your... fear. Of death.”

Starscream froze, and he felt an icy sensation go down his spinal strut. “W-what?”

“You are afraid of dying again,” Soundwave said, almost regretfully. “And understandably. Among those here, only you have ever been forcibly offlined. And in a horrific fashion.”

There was no stopping the tremble in Starscream's wings. He tried to make his face go blank, but he was pretty sure his optics were blown wide. The moment of his death played over and over again in his memory, and the loop threatened to drown him. He looked immediately for an escape, looking left and right, and found Soundwave had cornered him.

“Leave me alone,” he croaked. His voice sounded foreign and small in his audials.

“You are marching towards a being that is known as the author of death,” Soundwave said, nearly purring in Starscream’s audial. He had moved into Starscream’s personal space, settling too close for comfort on Starscream’s side. Starscream was still rooted to the spot, staring blankly ahead and doing his best not to think about it.

Had he polished correctly? He thought he could still feel the gritty feeling of dusty ash between his fingers—

“Enough,” Astrotrain said, his voice booming overhead. “I don’t know what kind of weird rivalry you two still have, but give it a rest. We’re on the same side.”

Starscream wanted to point out that they had always been on the same side, which didn’t seem to matter. Regardless, Soundwave backed off, giving him room to breathe. Whatever trance Starscream had fallen into was broken, and he made for the cargo door to get some fresh… well. Not air. Space?

He could really use some space.

He flew out of the cargo bay like a turbobat out of the Pit, and barely acknowledged Galvatron’s yelled query at his back.

A few days later, Starscream found himself conversing with Hot Rod for lack of better company or conversation.

“Oh yeah, he took it from me, but it was honestly a relief. I never wanted to be the Prime.”

Starscream shook his helm in disbelief. “You had all that power. And you were happy it was stolen from  you?”

“Well, some parts were cool,” Hot Rod admitted. “But most of the time, I was not feeling myself. I was acting on the part of someone other than me, and many of my actions were guided by the Matrix. I kind of felt like I had very little control.”

Starscream leaned back further against the bulkhead. “And that’s what you bonded with Galvatron over.”

“It might be blasphemous to say,” Hot Rod said with a wry smile, “but we were both puppets for our God-masters and performed good or evil as servants, not as champions. I am not sorry I was the Prime, but I’m not sorry that I’m Hot Rod again, either.”

“If I had the Matrix—“

“We’d all be doomed,” Galvatron said in passing as he walked by them to get to the cockpit.

Hot Rod snorted, and despite the rude impertinence, Starscream smirked, too. That was the first time Galvatron had talked to him directly since the hotel.

“It looks like a spike,” 789 said.

353 blushed and shook his helm. “N-no, it looks more like… an oblong shaft of—“

“It’s a spike,” Starscream agreed. Perhaps this was the first time he’d agreed with 789. “That column of gases is called 'magnam spiculumin’ in ancient Cybertronian, meaning big fragging spike. Even our early explorers were horny, apparently.”

The three of them sat on top of Astrotrain’s roof as he slowly drifted through a quiet part of space. The mech was asleep, on autopilot. Usually, the others would sleep, too, with one person standing watch. But when the Sweeps joined Starscream tonight, he discovered that he didn't mind their company at all.

353 sighed, defeated. “I mean, I suppose I can see what you are talking about.” He bit his lip. “Is it… solid?” 

Starscream snorted. “No.”

“What, you think Unicron needs a toy?” 789 asked, smirking. “A big, solid toy out here?”

Starscream slapped his face in laughter. “Is he consuming planets because he isn’t getting laid?”

353 blushed furiously, and 789 howled in laughter. “You know what—you're not so bad for being a ghost.”

The two Sweeps seemed to agree, but Starscream furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? I’m not a ghost anymore.”

“Right, and I’m Alpha Trion,” 789 said, grabbing 353’s hand and dragging him back below into the open door to Astrotrain’s cabin.

Starscream sat there dumbfounded.

Starscream and Soundwave pointedly ignored each other, despite Soundwave constantly staring at him.

Starscream stared right back with an edge to his glare.

"Are you sure you want to do that?” Starscream asked, smugly playing with Galvatron’s captured game piece by pushing it over with his digit. It kept making a soft “clack” noise on the table.

“Must you always metagame?” he asked tiredly. 

“It’s part of the game,” Starscream replied. “Getting into the mind of your opponent and guessing what they’ll do, and then trying to mess them up. It’s still your move, by the way. In case you forgot.”

Galvatron sighed. “I did not forget. You won’t give me a chance to think, how could I possibly forget?"

Starscream laughed as he tossed Galvatron’s game piece in the air and then caught it again with a swipe of his hand. “You know, you make yourself out to be some kind of amazing strategist. I just can’t see—“

“Checkmate,” Galvatron said, smirking.

Starscream dropped the game piece. He looked over the board frantically. Then he looked up, meeting Galvatron’s awful smirk.

Starscream flipped the board in his ugly face and walked away.

“You know,” Starscream said sullenly, swirling his evening energon. “I didn’t appreciate my plinth in the crypt.”

Astrotrain’s EM field flared in confusion. “What now?”

“My plinth. My marker,” he said, pouting. “It was just legs. Just the bottom part.”

“Oh,” Astrotrain said. “That.”

“Yes, that!” Starscream cried. "My predecessor had brutally murdered me, and the most you could erect in my honor were just my legs?"

“It did require a lot of legwork,” Astrotrain deadpanned.

Starscream just stared flatly, pretending he didn’t hear the pun.

Astrotrain sighed. “Well, it’s kind of the part of you that didn’t immediately disintegrate,” Astrotrain eventually answered. “We thought you’d appreciate something. But it was kind of in poor taste,” he admitted.

“You think?” Starscream asked, throwing back the rest of his cube. “At least you all could have built my aft.”

Astrotrain laughed so hard that he nearly threw everyone from their seats.

Starscream woke with a start. His nightmares had been worsening steadily, but they weren’t worth discussing. One look at 353, 789, and Galvatron told him they were experiencing the same thing. 

Something about the situation felt… wrong. He couldn’t put a digit on it, but whenever he thought of their quest, he felt like he was missing something. Something important.  

Alarms started blaring over Astrotrain’s speakers. “We have incoming. I’m pretty sure they are space pirates intending to board me. I would prefer that not happen.”

Galvatron immediately ran to the control room. “What onboard weaponry do you have?”

Astrotrain seemed to do the equivalent of a wince. “Erm, I have countermeasures and some dynamite.”

“What the frag are you doing with dynamite?” Starscream said, rubbing his optics wearily and disabling the helm-pounding loudness of the alarms. 

The triple-changer seemed to pause. “It kind of fits the train aesthetic.”

Galvatron looked up at the ceiling as if it would bring him deliverance from the idiot. “What can we do with dynamite?”

Starscream grimaced. “Not much in fucking space,” he said, crossing his arms. It occurred to him he really liked using human swears lately. Something about some human words really packed a better punch. Or maybe it was the influence of all these Autobots he was constantly around.

Anyway.

"The explosive would work, but the pressure wave that rapidly expands air away from the explosion accounts for a large portion of the damage from an explosion. In space, that shockwave wouldn't exist, so damage would just be caused by the impact of explosive debris. Are we blowing up Astrotrain?”

“What?” Astrotrain squawked.

“You’ve had a good run,” Hot Rod said, appearing in the cockpit and padding the wall. 

Astrotrain shivered indignantly.

“I don’t think we’re blowing up Astrotrain,” Galvatron started, looking thoughtfully at Starscream.

353 poked his helm into the doorway. “Can we get off him first?!”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Astrotrain whined hysterically. “After all these years of loyal service—"

“Debatable,” Starscream and Galvatron said at the same time.

“We might want to make up our minds soon,” Hot Rod said, staring out the front window. “They’ve got a fucking cannon.”

“Language,” Galvatron said, folding his arms.

Hot Rod rolled his optics. “Sorry. They’ve got a huge fucking cannon. Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” Starscream said, making a calming gesture. “I do have an idea.”

Anai stared incredulously at the display.

“Captain Anai, sir,” his minion said. “Someone used an escape pod.”

“I should have known he would abandon them,” he murmured. He guessed the mechs back on the shuttle were quite angry about it now, cursing Starscream’s name. “Ignore the shuttle. Go after the escape pod.”

His minion looked at him like he was an idiot but was wise to keep his thoughts to himself. Anai leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a chuckle. Starscream probably thought he was so clever. Most pirates would go after the bigger quarry, as surely that shuttle held something of value. But this was a social call, and Anai had a personal score to settle with that seeker. 

Starscream would pay attention to him, even if it killed him.

The pirates, all augmented with cybernetic enhancements, followed him without question. Why did Starscream think he could be different? Why did Starscream think he was just allowed to leave? 

Well, no matter. Their ship closed in on the measly escape pod and tractor-beamed it closer.

Anai couldn’t wait to see the look on Starscream’s face.

The escape pod exploded, sending shrapnel to slide through the other ship’s hull like it was made of paper.

Starscream smiled even as 789 went apoplectic behind him. 353 tried to calm him down by reminding him that he still had one more escape pod, but it didn’t seem to soothe his fury.

“Did you grab the name of that ship?” Starscream asked Astrotrain, curious.

“Nope. No idea who it was.”

“Good riddance, I guess,” Starscream said with a shrug.

“We’re not lost.”

Starscream laughed nastily. “Really? Then where are we?”

Galvatron looked around out the front of Astrotrain’s window. “It doesn’t matter; if we just continue going in this direction, we’ll eventually hit a landmark–”

“Or we will continue to go in the wrong direction and never get fuel.” Starscream leaned down beside Galvatron’s audial. “You have to do it.”

“I will not.”

Starscream threw his hands up in the air. “Fine! I’ll do it! If your pride is so insurmountable that you would rather die than ask for directions, I guess I must step up as the leader.”

Galvatron stood, glowering. “We will not ask the organics we saw back two kliks for directions. We don’t know who they are, and we don’t know anything about them–“

“They were Skuxxoid,” Starscream said, rolling his optics. “Just, ugh, Astrotrain, turn around, and I’ll ask.”

“We don’t need directions because we aren’t lost!” Galvatron said heatedly.

“Then again, I ask, where are we? Because I have no fragging clue,” Starscream snapped back. They were practically chest to chest now, and something about this was so familiar that it almost hurt.

Soundwave appeared at the door, holding a new datapad with a map on it. “We are in the Rigel star system. We found a map in the database that helps us.”

“See?” Galvatron gloated with a smirk. “We just needed time.”

Starscream sighed, shooting a glare at Soundwave. “Convenient timing, just when I was about to show Galvatron he was being an unreasonable aft.”

Galvatron frowned and waggled a digit in Starscream’s face. “You just wanted to embarrass me.”

“You don’t need my help doing that!” Starscream screeched. “Asking locals for directions is not embarrassing!”

“Mom and Dad are fighting,” Hot Rod called from the cargo bay.

Starscream’s optics flared, and he was about to go throat-check the upstart but stopped himself. “Tell me why you didn’t kill him when you had the chance?”

Galvatron snorted. “Not for lack of trying.”

Deciding to be the bigger mech, Starscream magnanimously let it go and walked to the back, ignoring the slag-eating grin of the former Prime.

Ultra Magnus squinted his optics. 

“You don’t have a record of Galvatron and the other Decepticons checking out of this establishment,” he asked the hotel host.

“Alas,” the creature replied. “They skipped out without paying their, uhm, bill. And damages! Yes, they didn’t pay for damages.”

Ultra Magnus dipped his helm. “You have my sympathy, not just because of the damage but also because of your lack of a complete record here. I can imagine that must be difficult.”

“What rooms did they stay in again?” Jazz asked, lifting a pede off the ground. Some condensation from the floor was sticking to the bottom of his pede. “Maybe they left a clue to their whereabouts?”

“They were in one room,” the host replied cheerfully. “It’s our most popular suite with Cybertronians trying to get to know each other,” it said, wiggling its eyestalks. “I can show it to you if you’d like."

“That… might not be necessary,” Ultra Magnus replied, looking considerably paler than before. “Did they leave anything behind or give any indication of where they might be going? And why did they leave so quickly?”

The host’s demeanor changed slightly, but Jazz picked up on it. 

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” the creature said, pulling back from the desk. “We don’t really like dealing with gods and all that. They could have told us they were chaos-touched, and we would have been fine.”

Ultra Magnus furrowed his brow. “Chaos-touched?”

The host bobbled his head. “I am afraid I don’t have much else for you. Goodbye!”

The moving carpet suddenly undulated, carrying Ultra Magnus and Jazz out the door. The door closed in their faces, and the lights turned off inside the lobby.

“I wasn’t done,” Ultra Magnus lamented. “I had many other things on my list.”

Jazz stepped back from the door, feeling beyond creeped out. “Yeah, buddy, that sucks. Let's... get out of here for now.” They boarded their tiny transport shuttle and headed back to the main ship.

“You don’t really think they were all sleeping together, do you?” Ultra Magnus asked, wringing his hands as they flew back.

Starscream went for a fly, transforming and spinning next to Astrotrain in a lazy twist as they flew into space. It was nice to fly with someone for a change, even though that person had part of his processor dedicated to boring trains.

“Hey, I heard that!”

Starscream had perhaps said that last part aloud. No matter.

Astrotrain's engine sputtered and groaned in what Starscream thought was offense. He was about to tell the mech to calm down, but Astrotrain came to a grinding halt, smoke billowing from his vents.

"Fragging scrap!" Astrotrain cursed. "Why does this always happen to me? "

Starscream flew up beside him, transforming and looking far from amused. "Astrotrain, what's the meaning of this? We were supposed to reach the mine hours ago."

Astrotrain’s field flared unhappily at Starscream's hovering figure. "My engine malfunctioned. It's not like I planned for this!"

Starscream rolled his optics and then happened to notice a billowing darkness coming towards them. A passing spacestorm appeared to be in their not-so-distant future. "Well, we can't just sit here waiting for a miracle. We would’ve been there already if Galvatron hadn't refused to ask for directions."

"Are you really going to bring that up now?!" Astrotrain's voice warbled.

“Afraid so,” Starscream lamented drooly. “We could have stopped and asked for some guidance, but Galvatron refused.”

Galvatron appeared when the shuttle bay door opened, and Soundwave, 789, and 353. Hot Rod followed, trying to hide a grin at the unfolding situation.

"Astrotrain, why have we stopped?" Galvatron demanded.

“Engine trouble,” Astrotrain replied, his voice wilting in embarrassment. “I’m going to need help.”

“No worries,” Hot Rod said brightly, floating over to his nosecone. “Open up, and let’s see what we got.”

Starscream couldn't resist the opportunity to gloat. "See, Galvatron? This is what happens when you let your ego get in the way of common sense. Even I wouldn't be foolish enough to pass up asking for help when needed."

Galvatron's optics flashed. "We’ve already been through this."

Soundwave audibly sighed. "Galvatron, we are far behind schedule, and the longer we delay, the greater the risk of encountering other threats."

Starscream smirked, thoroughly enjoying Galvatron's exasperation. "Indeed," he chimed in. "We've had enough encounters with hostile beings. I'd rather not add 'being stranded in space' to that list."

Astrotrain's hatch opened, and Hot Rod quickly assessed the engine's internals. "Ah, I see the problem," he said, pointing to a singed area. "You're going to need a replacement part for this."

"Great. Just great," Astrotrain muttered, his wings sagging.

Galvatron sighed. "What part do you need?"

Hot Rod pulled out a datapad and showed Galvatron the specifications. "It's a specialized powerhead and, unfortunately, not something we'll find just lying around. We'll buy it."

"Trade," Soundwave said, giving Galvatron a significant look.

Galvatron frowned. "I'd rather just blast our way through any obstacles at this point."

Soundwave shook his head. "Trading may be the most efficient and diplomatic solution in this case. We must remain focused on our mission."

Starscream looked at Galvatron, trying to hide his amusement. "So, what do you suggest, fearless leader? How will you make this trade happen without asking for help?"

Galvatron's optics narrowed, and a devious smirk spread across his face. "I shall negotiate with them, of course."

"Negotiate?" Starscream couldn't believe his audials. "Galvatron, do you even know how to negotiate?"

Galvatron straightened his posture, a glint of determination in his optics. "Fear not, Starscream. I was once a feared leader of the Decepticons. I know how to handle negotiations."

Starscream arched an optic ridge and was about to protest, but Soundwave put a hand on his shoulder and shook his helm. Doubtless, he was also incredulous at the claim, but perhaps getting what you want was more important than being right.

They set a course for the nearby space outpost, where they hoped to find the elusive powerhead. The outpost was known for its diverse clientele, from honest traders to shady characters seeking to profit from unsuspecting travelers.

As they landed in the bustling outpost, leaving Astrotrain docked and waiting for their return. Galvatron led the way, his presence demanding attention from the various beings milling about. Starscream and the others followed close behind.

At the trading post, they found a vendor specializing in rare energy components. The alien behind the counter, a large-eared creature with multi-colored eyes, turned to face them as they approached.

"Welcome, esteemed visitors," the alien greeted with an odd mix of clicks and hisses. "What brings you to my humble emporium?"

Galvatron looked down his nose at the creature. "We require a specialized powerhead for a malfunctioning engine."

The vendor's eyes darted from Galvatron to Astrotrain and then to Starscream, who stood beside him. "Ah, a transaction then," the alien replied, its eyes narrowing mischievously.

Soundwave coughed slightly, and Galvatron frowned. “Perhaps less with credits and more with other things of value.”

The alien's ears wriggled with amusement. "Ah, I see. Not for sale, but for trade. Interesting."

Galvatron didn’t seem to pick up on the alien acting weird. Starscream saw it immediately, but he thought everyone acted weird. "Yes, a trade. What do you require in exchange for the powerhead?"

The alien leaned forward, its beady eyes studying Galvatron and Starscream intently. "I require something rare, something valuable."

Galvatron raised an optic ridge. "We have plenty of valuable resources,” he lied, and Starscream almost burst into laughter. “Name it."

The alien's ears wiggled thoughtfully. "How about that sleek and menacing seeker by your side? I'll take him in exchange."

Ah. That was the weirdness he was sensing. This alien was probably a robot dealer and likely participated in other seedy practices. Starscream was offended, but he wasn't surprised. All kinds of things had tried to buy him before.

Astrotrain and Hot Rod exchanged bewildered glances. "You can't be serious, for one powerhead?" Astrotrain protested. It wasn't immediately clear if he was implying that Starscream was worth more or less than the object.

Starscream saw an opportunity to make Galvatron prove he was terrible at negotiating. "Oh, but I insist, Galvatron. A great leader like yourself should have no problem getting a great deal for me."

Galvatron scowled. "I will not part with any of my comrades," he growled.

Starscream chuckled. "Well then, it seems we have a dilemma. How about we find another way to handle this trade? Maybe we let someone else handle it."

“Well," the trader said, "I normally would be really interested in the seeker, but I see you have two Sweeps with you. Those fetch a good price these days.”

353 and 789 paused, turning to stare at the trader. 

“People are buying Sweeps?” Hot Rod asked.

The trader shrugged. “All I know is that someone is buying them in bulk if you can get your hands on them. Big bounties. I can still make a hefty profit if I trade you two or three of these powerheads you are looking for.”

Starscream could feel 353 stiffen beside him, and he realized this was more sordid than he had anticipated. “Do you know what happens to them once they are bought?” he asked tentatively.

“I just hear things. I don’t remember.”

Galvatron stepped forward and flared his EM field so harshly that even the organics felt a chill in the air. They shivered and recoiled in fear, perhaps not knowing why but sensing the latent electricity and sheer fury Galvatron emanated. “Perhaps you need to have your memory jogged.”

“Erm,” the trader said intelligently. “I heard some kind of guy is buying them and shipping them off to a remote part of space. There is nothing there, as far as I know."

Galvatron turned his red optics to look at Starscream, and Starscream gave a grim face back. He could imagine what was there then.

“Besides,” the trader added. “They seem drawn out there anyway.”

Starscream swallowed hard around a dry mouth. He suddenly felt like he was going to purge.

“Even if we don’t sell them, they try to go out there anyway. They talk about dreams and needing proof or whatever; poor sods must be programmed weirdly.”

Starscream took a step back.

“We never see them again, which is kind of strange. But it’s not really my business. I sense a trap if you ask me, but what do I know?"

Starscream had to go.

He turned and left the vendor. He had to get out, get away, and run as far away as he possibly could—

But at the same time, the constant thrum in the back of his mind told him to keep moving forward. Go to that part of space. They knew where he was now. He was calling all his creations to him, likely to absorb them and take them back into his frame to reconstitute himself.

Some part of him was actually agreeing. Their frames belonged to the God of Chaos. He had made them, and as he had mentioned to them on several occasions, what is given can be taken away.

And Starscream hadn’t exactly been given his frame. He’d kind of taken it under false pretenses.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem like that had been such a bright idea anymore.

He ran back to Astrotrain, ignoring his questions about what was wrong. He paced in the cargo hold for a minute, shivering and shaking, suppressing a whine from his vocalizer. He was trying to get away from his thoughts, the noise, and the thought of Unicron orchestrating all of this—

He pushed his back against a wall and slid down to bury his face in his knees. He was losing it. He needed to get a grip—

His frame felt gritty like it was turning to ash.

“Starscream,” a voice said as someone touched him on the shoulder.

He looked up and saw Galvatron standing over him. He flinched.

Galvatron removed his hand as if it had been burned. He stared for a few moments, searching Starscream’s optics, and then slowly crouched, telegraphing his every move very carefully.

“We’re playing right into his hands,” Starscream whispered.

Galvatron nodded. “I had always guessed this was a possibility.”

“You knew?” Starscream hissed. He trembled, trying to stop himself from flying at Galvatron with his claws.

“It stands to reason that if we can sense Unicron, he can sense us. Nothing has really changed.”

“ Everything has changed,” Starscream bit out through clenched denta. “We aren’t merely being sensed. We’re being drawn. He’s been calling to us, Galvatron! Those dreams we’ve been suffering through every recharge cycle? They aren’t just our past trauma’s greatest hits!”

“Starscream, I always knew that.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Starscream asked, irritation threatening to brim his optics with cleaning fluid. “I would not have agreed—“

Oh.

Starscream shut his mouth with an audible snap. His wings slowly sagged as the realization washed over him. “You knew I would say no.”

Galvatron pursed his lips. “Your penchant for running from danger is… legendary.”

Starscream’s spark hurt like he had been stabbed. “So all of this. All of this?” he asked, indicating the space between them. “This was all to keep me here?”

Galvatron was confused. “I don’t follow.”

“Don’t play stupid,” Starscream sneered. “Why did you want me here with you if you knew this was a suicide mission?!”

“I don’t know that,” Galvatron said. “I still think we can destroy him.”

“You’ve thought that before, you idiot,” Starscream said.

“I didn’t have you before.”

Starscream blinked, confusion etching into his features. “I—what does my presence bring to this equation?”

Galvatron smirked. “Out of all the creatures that have come across Unicron, you are the only one who has ever faced him and won. Starscream, I’ve been trying to tell you. You are our secret weapon. Unicron may see us coming and even expect it. But he will have underestimated you. That is his weakness.”

This was too much. “So you tried to seduce me to keep me nearby?”

Galvatron reared back. “What?”

Starscream couldn’t wait for him to catch up. “You know my fear of death again. You don’t know what it was like to be a ghost—I can’t return to that.”

“Tell me, then,” Galvatron said softly. “Tell me what it was like. I will listen. It is only fair since I put you in that state anyway.”

Starscream gave a shaky exvent. “At first, it was fun. I was unbound by space, time, and any other constraints that usually limit our existence. I was free in a way. 

“But then it was cold. Not having a body, I felt the full blast of the void, and it was cold. Cold in a way that burns your very essence. I was drawn to the living, even though I could have just lived apart. I could have drifted through the universe, and sometimes I did. But I still wanted to return and find… you. And then I found I could not interact with the world and warmth I so desired, and existence became... hard to bear.”

Galvatron looked down at the ground. “So you began to try and possess other bodies to help you achieve your goals.”

“I hated it!” Starscream cried. “I wanted my body back! There was no way to get it back, though, because it was completely gone. I… lost myself a little. And whenever I let those thoughts overwhelm me, I felt myself begin to fade.”

Starscream took a deep invent. “I can’t go back to that. I don’t even know why it happened to me in the first place!” he said, looking at his hands. “Why wasn’t I granted the rest of the Well? Will I never have it? Am I doomed to be forever stuck in that painful limbo? I can’t go back to that !” He clenched his jaw. “If I was so important to your plan, why did you almost kick me off the team before?”

Galvatron looked slowly up at him. “You clearly didn’t want to be here, but Ithought... I didn’t want you to go because I was selfish,” Galvatron murmured. “This whole time, I’ve been trying to prove to you that I’ve changed, that I’m not the same Galvatron that killed you, and that I’m Megatron—I swear, I’m Megatron. And yet, still, you flinch from me.”

Starscream’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t help it.”

“I’m not saying you need to,” Galvatron said quietly. He frowned and then stood from his crouch. “But perhaps we don’t need you after all.”

Starscream was struck with the sudden possibility that he was about to get what he wanted. And that frightened him more than Unicron.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Starscream said quietly. “I want to stay—“

“Which is it, then?” Galvatron snapped. “Do you want to stay or leave?!”

“I want both!” Starscream screeched, standing on his pedes. 

“You are exhausting,” Galvatron said wearily. “It was always a mistake to bring you; I should have known better. I thought that if I brought you, things might be the same. I wanted you to be by my side again—I want things the way they used to be!”

Starscream swallowed. “T-they could be? They could be even better if I stayed—“

“Starscream,” Galvatron said quietly, grabbing him and bringing him close. Starscream’s spark pulsed wildly in his chest, flaring at the close contact. He could feel every place Galvatron was touching him, heightened by the heat of the mech’s fingertips. He suppressed a shiver, unconsciously arching his back. Hearing his name on Galvatron’s lips in that tone was something he could never forget.

“I don’t want you here,” Galvatron said flatly. “You are a liability.”

Starscream wished he had been slapped instead of this sucker punch of words. He wished Galvatron had gotten violent with him instead of saying these words in that order. “I—I changed my mind.”

“My decision has already been made. You will never have to see me again.”

“But that’s not what I want,” Starscream bit back. He was seized with a vision of the future in which Galvatron wasn’t in it and was nowhere to be found, likely dead at Unicron’s hands. “I want to help!”

“It will help me if you leave,” Galvatron said, stepping back. His body language said he was reluctant, not wanting to let go of Starscream’s warm and trembling frame. Starscream didn’t want him to either, already yearning and missing the embrace. But Galvatron was set on sending him away. He stared Starscream down with forced contempt and misery in his optics.

“Why are you doing this?” Starscream asked, raw and broken and tired of all of these confusing feelings and words. “You are lying to me!”

“I meant what I said,” Galvatron growled. “You are a liability and a nuisance. I can’t have you here pulling my attention away from what is most important—“

“Oh, I’m distracting?” Starscream said, his voice going up in pitch and volume. “You can’t control your ogling, and so I have to leave?”

“I’m not ogling you!” Galvatron said, but to Starscream’s immense triumph, Galvatron’s face had the dull sheen of heat, indicating he had absolutely been doing just that. “I… have enjoyed the time we have spent together on this mission, but you have to understand—and please, listen— I can’t have you here. I can’t do what needs to be done if you are here—”

The nature of why Galvatron wanted him to leave suddenly occurred to Starscream, and in a flash, he was flattered and then immediately after, incensed.

“You fucking idiot,” Starscream said dangerously. “You are trying to save me because you think we’re all going to die.”

Galvatron shut his mouth and stared at Starscream, unable to grasp the words he needed to deny him.

“We’re all going to die if Unicron comes back anyway!”

“You’d have a chance to get away,” Galvatron said tiredly back. “You do have a penchant for running. You wouldn’t be running into the gaping maw of this evil thing.”

“I am not some damsel that needs protecting!” Starscream screeched. “I’m your former second-in-command; I’m a fucking aerial genius, scientist, and war criminal— none of those accolades give you the right to decide my fate for me!”

Galvatron stepped forward again, looming over Starscream. “You moron,” he said angrily. “The one time I try to do something nice for you, you go and throw a tantrum over it!”

“Because you are being an absolute imbecile! You are convinced we will fail, but your chances of failure increase if I’m not there with you! You said you needed me— please say it again—“ Starscream’s voice started to break a little at the end, unused to this much yelling.

He was so out of practice; he used to be able to scream the entire Decepticon code at Skywarp without a single crack in his vocalizer.

“I don’t need you,” Galvatron said, lying and reaching out to hold him. “I don’t need you, and you should go home so that I can save you from torment.”

Starscream shook his wings, trying to fan them indignantly, but Galvatron had reached up under his arms to grasp the trailing edges of his wings. It effectively immobilized Starscream, making him go limp under the touch. Megatron had discovered it by chance while fighting Starscream once. It was an insanely intimate part of the wing, as it was thinner and where his ailerons were housed, allowing him to adjust altitude. Having Galvatron grip his wing firmly made him melt at the touch.

Galvatron knew what he was doing. Starscream tried not to get lost in how Galvatron’s lips invited him to bite them.

“Torment,” Starscream repeated quietly.

“Unicron will use our weakness against us. Your weakness is a fear of death. My weakness is you. I can imagine how the God of Chaos might make both of us regret taking him on.”

Starscream rather liked being called Galvatron’s weakness. There was something possessive about it and almost empowering. Starscream was about to gloat until he… thought about it again. 

“I’m… your weakness?”

Galvatron sighed. “You need to go.”

Starscream shook his helm. “No, no, how am I your weakness? I’m going to need you to explain yourself.”

“That is not necessary.”

“It—it is absolutely necessary!” Starscream said, shaking. Galvatron held him closer, trying to calm his shivers with more comforting firmness. “I—I feel the same way, so please don’t make me go! I want to understand; I want to stay —“

“No,” Galvatron said, handcuffing him to one of the accursed escape pods 789 had bought that were stationed behind him.

Starscream’s mouth fell open. “What are you doing?”

Galvatron pushed him into the pod, physically holding him down as he began to flail.

“NO!” Starscream cried. “No, please, no—“

Galvatron clenched his jaw. “I never should have involved you,” he said quietly. He snapped some restraints around Starscream’s frame, meant to protect him in a crash. Starscream was shaking his helm, trying to get out, but it wasn’t working. 

Paralyzing fear gripped Starscream’s spark as if it would stop it in his chest. “Galvatron, you’re just getting proof. Just get the proof and get out of there.”

Galvatron gave a lopsided smirk. “You and I always knew this was never going to stop at proof,” he said as he pulled out his orange cannon from subspace. He put it on his arm like it had never left, letting the weight of it adjust his stance. Now complete in his form, he looked imposing, every bit the cutting figure of a warlord on a mission of wrath. Starscream realized he always had this instrument of death on hand but had not worn it for Starscream’s sake.

He was dumbfounded. “Unicron will literally eat you alive.”

“Not this time,” Galvatron said with a smirk. “Come find me if you’d like after this is all over. I’d like to try again if you’ll let me.”

And then he pressed the button, jettisoning Starscream from Astrotrain and the trading post into deep space.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it couldn’t have been long. He was tumbling and realized there were controls that he could use to stop this stupid thing!

“Wait—“ he said, pushing the button. His little panic attack had seized his strength and focus, but when he finally gained control of the thing, he could stabilize it. He turned the escape pod around, turning towards the trading post.

Just as he arrived, he saw the afterburners of Astrotrain’s shuttle form leave, blasting off into space. Then they blinked into a space bridge and were gone from sight.

Starscream had been left behind.

Again.

He clenched his jaw, trying to figure out his next move, when a tractor beam locked onto him and started pulling him in.

“Starscream, you are under arrest for fomenting rebellion against the Primacy and Cybertron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Starscream growled in defeat.

Chapter Text

Starscream’s optics were going to break with how much he was rolling them.

“So you’re telling me this isn’t you?” Cliffjumper said, pointing to things on a data pad. “A distinctly red and gray seeker-shaped individual was seen cavorting with Galvatron, Astrotrain, and Soundwave.”

“Could have been any seeker,” Starscream said with a shrug. “You all famously love to say how we look alike; I’m surprised you could tell the difference.”

Cliffjumper narrowed his optics. “We have you on recording, identifying yourself.”

“Oh good,” Starscream said, reaching for the cube of weak energon he’d been offered with his still-handcuffed hands. “Then you have evidence of identity theft! I can give you my statement if you’d like.”

He took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. This was child’s play at this point: walking word circles around this mech. If he could keep the conversations going, Starscream was pretty sure he could get the mech to harass him and be released in a fit of embarrassment soon. He was no stranger to this stupid circus; he had played it plenty of times before the war broke out.

He carefully put the cube back down on the table. It was awkward with his hands bound and half of the cube teetering off the edge.

"I-I don't need your statement. You are trying to trick me!" Cliffjumper sputtered.

"Me? Oh, no, no—but here, allow me to let you in on a little secret," Starscream said, leaning forward.

Cliffjumper looked at him skeptically but followed and leaned forward, too.

"See, this? This was a trick," Starscream said. In a flash, he flipped the bottom of his balanced cube, launching it into the air. It sailed in a perfect arc, somersaulting end over end before it caught on one of Cliffumper's horns and dumped its contents down his face.

Cliffjumper immediately stood, angry and clearly humiliated. Starscream thought the energon running down his cheek did his faceplate a favor. The minibot stepped around the table as if preparing to attack, and Starscream knew he'd be out before the end of the hour.

“Cliffjumper, I’ll take over from here,” Ultra Magnus’s deep voice intoned from the doorway.

Starscream internally cringed. The famously unflappable mech took a seat when Cliffjumper sullenly vacated. Starscream sat back in his seat with a huff, looking out the window at space as the enforcer’s ship floated in orbit above the trader’s planet, from which he had just been forcibly removed.

Galvatron and the crew could not have gone far, he thought. If he could get out of this mess, he could go find them quickly and stop them from doing anything too stupid.

At least without him.

It was a strange thing to be so reluctant to join their little quest and then miss them. Was he so starved for camaraderie that even some strange cast of characters wormed their way into his spark? He was better than this. He didn’t need anyone!

“It was pretty foolish of you to start engaging with Galvatron again,” Ultra Magnus said, pulling out a datapad. “For someone with a record as long as yours.”

“I was unaware it was a crime,” Starscream replied, leaning back in the chair. He attempted to look relaxed, but he felt like he had been dragged into the principal's office in grade school.

“It’s not,” Ultra Magnus replied definitively. “But you had to know it would put you back on our radar. Part of the arrangement of your communicated sentence for Decepticon activities was that you would not commit any illegal acts or face double the punishment.”

Starscream sighed, fresh out of his optic-rolls. “Meaning?”

“If you were to commit the slightest infraction, it might have escaped our immediate notice. But you put a big neon sign on yourself when you met up with all the former Decepticons at your residence.” Ultra Magnus chuckled to himself. “Some might say a purple neon sign.”

Starscream could not resist the optic roll. “So very clever,” he replied drolly. “Remind me again, at which point did I do something illegal?”

Ultra Magnus’s grin disappeared, and he turned on the datapad. “You are charged with fomenting rebellion against Cybertron by reigniting the Decepticon movement. Your trial has been set for two weeks. You have the right to an attorney—”

“Wait,” Starscream said, waving his hand. “This is all a big misunderstanding. We’re not trying to restart the damn movement.”

Ultra Magnus gave him a pitying look. “You approached the Prime’s Palace about two weeks ago, right?”

Starscream shrugged. “Yes. With Galvatron.”

“Did you say to the guards, and I quote, ‘We can come back again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Maybe our little group will grow. Maybe we’ll get louder. Invite some media. We could mention how Decepticon concerns and complaints are being suppressed. I’m sure your superiors would love that.’”

“Yes,” Starscream replied sourly.

“Threatening a guard of the Prime is a crime.”

Starscream tilted his helm. “Threatening them with a peaceful gathering? Which is our right, as I recall. Where was the threat?”

“You called yourselves Decepticons. Identifying yourself as a Decepticon is a crime and, as I will prove in court, the first step towards you undermining our society and attempting to restart the war.”

This was not turning out well, Starscream realized. “Do you know why we were there at the Palace?”

“I reviewed the tapes.”

Starscream leaned forward. “Did you read Galvatron’s letters asking for the Prime to intervene? He sent many, and they were all ignored.”

“He wrote only two letters,” Ultra Magnus said. “Neither of which discounts my statement.”

“That can’t be right,” Starscream said, frowning. “You must have missed some. Or they were destroyed.”

Ultra Magnus leaned back in his seat. “I was very thorough. One letter was hastily written in scrawl, talking about Unicron—it reads like the ravings of a mad mech. It was one of several other letters, just like it from other mechs, all claiming the Prime isn’t doing enough to save society. It was a conspiracy theory. It was ignored per protocol.”

Starscream glowered.

“The second one was about you. Galvatron was inquiring about your whereabouts after his trial and probation. He was concerned you had ‘gotten into trouble and could not get yourself out of it.’”

At this, Starscream blanched. That was years ago now. How long had Galvatron been looking for him?

“That letter had been archived but not deemed important for the Prime’s attention.”

Starscream was right back to glowering again. “I don’t get it,” he growled. “Why are you all being such absolute afts about listening to us? We lost, you won, we get it. Everyone has tried to follow your stupid rules—even me. Me! I got a job, I went to work, I went home, and I didn’t steal, connive, or do anything!”

Ultra Magnus regarded him coolly. “Galvatron killed me too, you know.”

“Primus damn it,” Starscream said, slapping his forehead. “I thought I was special, but then I come back and find out all the damn dead Autobots keep popping back up like cyber daisies.” He brought down his hand from his face. “It sucked majorly, didn’t it?”

“A fate I would not wish upon my worst enemy,” he replied gravely. “I don’t know how you could stand to even look at him.”

“It helps that I’m an absolute idiot,” Starscream said, sinking into his chair. “And for the record, I did need help back then. The rest of the galaxy hasn’t forgotten about our little war, and I learned my lesson more out there in hostile space than I ever would here in some prison reform program. But it still would have been nice to know someone cared.”

Ultra Magnus frowned deeply. Then he stood and went over to Starscream and uncuffed him.

“What?” Starscream said in confusion.

“The problem is, Galvatron is not alone in his idiocy, is he? He dragged you all in under his influence, perhaps with blackmail?”

Starscream shook his helm. “I’m not following.”

“Hot Rod.”

“Ah,” he replied, his smile gaining smugness. “The Primeling. You want him back.”

“Everyone wants him safe, myself included. He’s going through a phase. He thinks he’d have more fun playing as a Decepticon instead of training to be the next Prime—“

“Oh boy, I see why the kid left,” Starscream said with a laugh. “You want me to convince him to come back in exchange for my freedom?”

“Something like that,” Ultra Magnus replied flatly, apparently surly that he had been cut off. “Under extenuating circumstances, using the powers vested in me by the Prime, I commute your arrest in exchange for the safeguarding of one Hot Rod, heir to the Matrix and future Prime of Cybertron.”

Starscream frowned. To hear Hot Rod tell it, he wanted nothing to do with being Prime ever again. Throwing on all those lofty, expectant titles didn’t sit right with him. “Have you talked to him about this?”

Ultra Magnus frowned. “What? Yes, I talked to Optimus Prime about this.”

“No, I mean-“

“Ultra Magnus, sir? Your presence is requested on the bridge.”

Apparently done, Ultra Magnus stood up and looked at Starscream expectantly. “I expect updates on your status. And when you find an opportunity to get Hot Rod away from Galvatron, take it.”

Starscream nodded obediently, already deciding he probably wouldn’t.

They left him in the middle of nowhere without a shanix or a cube to help him. Starscream gave them a few rude gestures as they left.

He transformed and started heading in the direction of the nearest space bridge. He had some coordinates but very little else that might help him find his erstwhile companions. Let alone any weapon or a fucking plan!

What would he do when he showed up and the Unicron from his nightmares was there, consuming his… teammates? His compatriots? His… deeper than acquaintances but less than anything else that might make Starscream feel uncomfortable?

Still, he imagined the sharp teeth of the gargantuan monster puncturing Galvatron’s torso, reducing him to bare components of wires and plating, his optics glazing over in pain and death. The thought filled him with overwhelming regret, and he wished he had never freaked out in the first place. Galvatron might not have kicked him out if he could have kept it together. At least in Galvatron’s presence, he could do something! They were always better together; why had Starscream said he wanted to leave? And how confusing that he both wanted to leave and stay—Galvatron was right. He was foolishly vacillating. Starscream always knew what he wanted.

He wanted to roam the damn galaxy with Galvatron forever and just abandon this stupid planet-eater. Let someone else deal with it!

Starscream came through the spacebridge and immediately saw Soundwave waiting for him on the other side.

“Soundwave!” Starscream cried happily. “Thank Primus—did I make it back in time?”

Soundwave stared at him and then pulled out a blaster to aim it at Starscream’s face. “No.”

Starscream opened and closed his mouth a few times. “What?” he said, drawing back in surprise. It wasn't the first time the mech had pointed a gun in his direction, but it usually followed some nefarious act Starscream had committed. He was drawing a blank at the moment.

Soundwave shrugged. “It’s not like you really cared about him anyway,” he said matter-of-factly. Alarm bells were going off inside Starscream’s helm as he furtively looked around and only saw debris floating in space. “You were inflicted with a fit of nostalgia and missed the good old days. You were more annoyed by him than you actually cared—and don’t deny it.”

Starscream was about to start when a sickening thought hit his processor. “Where is everyone, Soundwave?”

Soundwave sighed. “I told you, you are too late.”

Starscream backed away even as his legs threatened to give out underneath him. His optics were wide, with his pupils down to pinpricks. “I- I didn’t... want-”

“You will eventually be caught by Unicron and forced to become one with him again,” Soundwave continued conversationally, as if they were talking about the weather. “But it doesn’t have to be today. I’ve performed my duty by delivering the Sweeps and Galvatron. You would have been a bonus, but Unicron has expressed a desire to hunt you down himself.”

Soundwave looked exhausted, nearly deflating on the spot. Starscream shook his helm, finally coming back to himself. “What possessed you to work for Unicron and to betray… Galvatron? You are literally a textbook case of loyalty, Soundwave!”

Soundwave sighed. “Unicron contacted me in my dreams. Like you, I knew it was real and I could not ignore it. He said he would spare my cassettes from his wrath if I followed his orders. He told me to bring all of you to him, and so I did. Gladly.”

“Gladly?” Starscream repeated.

Soundwave gave him a flat look. “Galvatron had it coming. You are not the only one who he mistreated, especially once you were gone.”

Starscream was indignant. “Haven’t you seen he’s changed? I mean, he has a lot to answer for, but… Primus, Soundwave, you enabled him as Galvatron in the worst of his days.”

“I survived,” Soundwave spat, his plating flaring out. “You did not. Clearly, standing up to him was not an option, but waiting—waiting until the perfect moment?” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “Well. That moment has arrived.”

Starscream’s mind was reeling. He had to go—he had to fly and somehow stop this. Every cable in his frame felt pulled taut, and ready to snap. “If Unicron gets all of us back, he’ll have the power to start his reign of terror again. He won’t let you and your cassettes live if you just happen to be on a planet he consumes. You are not that naïve.”

“You’re wasting time,” Soundwave said tersely. “He’s already consumed them.”

Starscream’s tanks plummeted. “No.”

“We arrived here, and Unicron was waiting, mouth agape. I’ve been giving him information about your whereabouts this entire time. I called him when we were trapped in that hotel, and luckily, he helped. He flared his presence out or something, causing the creature to run away afraid.”

“This... this can’t be,” he said, shaking his helm. “You are lying! I was only away from you for a few hours!”

“Things change that fast,” Soundwave replied.

“Soundwave,” Starscream said softly. “We would have helped you.”

Soundwave looked down, his shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t. If you knew that I was manipulating you and in direct contact with Unicron… there is no way you would help me. I had to do this.”

Starscream sighed and pushed past Soundwave toward the direction he knew held Unicron and his imposing, suffocating presence. “Take yourself out of this story, then. Leave with your cassettes, and don’t come back. Ignore Unicron if he hails you again, Soundwave, or so help me, I will destroy you.”

Soundwave’s visor dimmed as if sad to hear the words from Starscream.

“What will you do? If you go to him, you will be consumed as well.”

Starscream sighed again, his wings twitching behind his back. “I’m going to improvise.”

Chapter Text

The vastness of space stretched out before Starscream, a cold and foreboding void that mirrored his spark's turmoil. He had raced across the cosmos, his thrusters blazing, propelled by a single overwhelming purpose—to confront the embodiment of malevolence itself in planet form.

Or head-form.

No pressure.

The feeling of dread curled into his tanks. Unicron was close and possibly sensed him, too; insatiable hunger lingered on the periphery of his sensors, threatening to draw him in. Something out there wanted to devour him like a delectable, wriggling treat, and he was heading straight for it. The idiocy was almost insurmountable.

Some part of him wanted to run away, hide like he did for millennia—but it was a whispered thought, quieter than ever.

Starscream reached an impossibly dark part of space and started to feel the small bits of debris get bigger and plink against his armor. He mentally winced, realizing what those bits probably were.

In the darkness, two green optics blazed online. His spark skipped a few beats and almost stopped when the lights grew brighter as if locking on to him.

He saw the horned helm and had to fight every instinct again to run.

Every molecule, every line, and every fiber of his very being vibrated with fear and dread. He wanted to purge, he wanted to cry out, and he could not suppress a full-frame shiver, rattling his plating in wretched anxiety. That little panic attack he had before? He was having it again.

Starscream thought he would have time to plan a strategy, not meet Unicron now?!

Primus, he didn’t want to die again.

He was only one mech. He likely would not affect the outcome any differently. The loss of Galvatron, Hot Rod, Astrotrain, and even those damned Sweeps fueled his rage, but it didn’t feel like enough to get him past his fear. If Soundwave was to be believed, the Chaos-Bringer's ravenous hunger had sucked them into his insatiable maw. Starscream's spark seethed with anguish as he realized his nightmares had become a reality.

Unicron loomed before him, a colossal titan that defied comprehension even if he lacked a body. His surface was a shifting labyrinth, metallic and imposing, and he pulsed with an eerie malevolence that sent shivers through Starscream's frame. He had no illusions about the odds stacked against him, but he knew that he had to try—he had to face this embodiment of annihilation and demand retribution for the lives stolen from him.

Something cold and uncaring whispered in the back of his processor; a ghost in his circuits, lines of unintelligible code that had been there in the beginning, from the start, and maybe even before.

Death approaches. 

Without a preamble, Starscream transformed and crashed through a window near Unicron’s audial. There was a deep rumbling chuckle, telling Starscream that Unicron was not worried and put up very few defenses to stop him. The interior of the malevolent entity was a nightmarish landscape, a twisted amalgamation of machinery and protomesh, illuminated by a sickly green glow. The air was thick with the stench of decaying metal and rust, but Starscream pressed on.

"Unicron!" His raspy voice echoed through the grotesque corridors, a challenge that cut through the eerie silence. "Your defeat is imminent, you slimy sphincter toolbag!"

Not his best insult, but pretty good under the circumstances.

A voice, a guttural rumble that seemed to come from all directions at once, answered him. "Starscream, you are as colorful as ever. You dare confront me?"

Starscream's optics blazed with fury. "Yes, I dare! The universe has had enough of you, and I’m here to stop you once again!"

Laughter, a terrible and mocking sound, reverberated through the walls. "You did not stop me before, Starscream. You merely delayed the inevitable.”

Starscream glowered in the darkness as he kept walking down the corridors of Unicron’s internals, seeing strange mechanisms that made no sense and performed no function other than to creep him out. They clicked and whirled as he walked by, almost like they were some strange flora in a nightmarish forest. “Well then, allow me to delay you further. I want Galvatron and the others back.”

Unicron shifted all around him as if he were suddenly intrigued. “Their sacrifice was necessary for my sustenance. They are now part of me, as all things shall be."

"No!" Starscream's shout was a mix of defiance and desperation. "You can’t have them!”

“What made Galvatron and the Sweeps? They were remade from my essence; I merely recalled back when is mine.”

Starscream pushed through a curtain of cables that hung thickly like vines. “And Hot Rod and Astrotrain?”

Unicron chuckled again. “Collateral damage.”

“You can’t have them,” Starscream growled, using his claws to slash the cables. They retreated like they were alive and hurt, hissing at him in the darkness. “I want to challenge you for their return.”

There was an eerie pause. The darkness somehow increased, leaving Starscream unsure of what was happening. He stopped walking.

Lights slowly turned on.

It was a scene. It was Starscream at the top of a dais, tossing his cape to the side as he was crowned Emperor of Cybertron and supreme leader of the Decepticons-

And Megatron was at his side, smiling approvingly.

“What—what is this?” Starscream said nervously. It looked like that fateful day when he had achieved everything, he thought he wanted.

But it was better.

“This is what you really want, isn’t it? Megatron as your consort, proudly proclaiming you the leader and giving you the affection you crave?” 

Starscream’s mouth went dry. The scene was compelling, as Megatron murmured something into the other Starscream’s audials. It was either teasing or decidedly horny because the Starscream in the scene playfully smacked Megatron’s shoulder, earning a chuckle from him. Megatron smiled warmly and bowed, leading the assembled crowd to bow in return.

“This is the bliss I offer you if you let me absorb you,” the voice said, suddenly very close to his audial. Starscream glanced to his side, and a mech-sized version of Unicron stood there, watching the proceedings with amusement. “You can live forever in a paradise of your choosing.”

Starscream stared on as yearning crept into his spark. Thundercracker and Skywarp stood on the step just below the throne, crowned with small circlets of their own. They looked on proudly, smirking at Megatron’s antics. He noticed Hot Rod and Astrotrain stood a few steps lower, along with the Sweeps.

Everyone looked well, and… happy.

“You would never suffer to be lonely again,” Unicron said gently. “Everyone else is already here; they look forward to you joining them.”

Starscream’s gaze became unfocused when Megatron gently placed his hand on the small of his double’s back and pulled him close into a light kiss. The desire for this to be real was unbearable.

But something in the way Unicron had said those last words struck him with alarm. “That sounds like the Well of Allsparks.”

Unicron's expression changed into a sly grin. “You would not die, Starscream- I know how you fear death and the side effects of your condition. You would become a part of me, side-stepping death and those consequences. But I can make it pleasant, or I can make it unbearable.”

In the scene, Galvatron suddenly appeared at the bottom of the dais. He brandished his orange cannon, yelling angrily at the happy couple.

Starscream knew what would happen next. He could feel the grittiness already between his fingers as his body turned to ash again. He swallowed his panic.

He knew he was being swayed and manipulated and that it was working.

“Why offer me the choice?”

Unicron’s grin deepened, dripping with satisfaction. “You came here knowing there was no hope. Of all Primus’s creations, you should be made low and subservient. Give yourself willingly to me so that your humiliation is complete.”

Starscream clenched his jaw. He growled as he turned to face Unicron beside him. 

“I will offer you a trade—my essence for theirs! Release them from your clutches and take me instead!"

For a moment, silence hung in the air like a heavy fog. Then Unicron's voice rumbled again, dripping with derision. "Why would I take that offer? I net negative essences that I require to revive.”

“Because,” Starscream said, his wings flaring. “I know where there are components that can assemble your body again. You may lose the others, but you gain a body. Surely that’s a good trade, right?”

Unicron tilted his helm to the side. “This feels oddly familiar; haven’t we done this before? You have proven to be untrustworthy.”

Starscream shrugged with his hands outstretched. “Guilty. However, I am completely made from your essence. Galvatron and the Sweeps were assembled from other parts. I know I am worth more than all of them combined.”

There was a long beat of silence, and then Unicron smiled with his teeth. “Very well, Starscream. Your sacrifice amuses me. Approach."

Starscream's spark raced as he stepped forward, his frame trembling. He knew that his gambit was desperate, but he had hoped there might still be a chance for someone to get out of this alive. As he stepped forward, the illusion disappeared like smoke, and it was replaced with a large chamber, clearly holding the Unicrons’s wicked spark. Starscream felt a sudden gravitational pull, drawing him toward the twisted energy, crackling and writhing in a large spark core. 

A terrible realization washed over him. In his haste to help Galvatron and stop the scene unfolding in front of him, he had not figured out a way to secure his deal from double cross. Unicron had no intention of honoring their deal, just as Starscream didn’t all those years ago. Raucous laughter echoed around him as the energy closed around him, a darkness so absolute that it was suffocating. He struggled and fought against the inexorable pull, but it was futile. Unicron's betrayal was complete.

Memories and information flooded into Starscream's consciousness, a torrent of experiences that spanned eons. He saw planets devoured, galaxies torn asunder, and civilizations reduced to nothingness. Unicron's essence was a maelstrom of malice and entropy, and Starscream struggled to maintain his sense of self amidst the onslaught.

Unicron's merriment echoed through Starscream's processor as his essence merged with the god-like being. It was as if their consciousnesses were intertwining, and Starscream could feel the weight of his own identity slipping away. He realized that he was sacrificing not only his physical form but also his autonomy.

As the transformation continued, Starscream's physical form began to break down, dissolving into a cloud of shimmering energy that swirled around Unicron's colossal spark. Starscream's thoughts and desires fused with the ancient entity, becoming a part of the malevolent force that was Unicron.

Galvatron was here. He swirled around Starscream in a comforting embrace but could not keep it for long. He morphed into Hot Rod, Astrotrain, Sweeps, and then nothing, unable to keep his individuality despite being part of Unicron. Starscream, too, knew he could not keep himself separate for long.

"You fool," he heard affectionately all at once around him from many different voices. Starscream suddenly wondered what paradise Galvatron had been offered and if Starscream had been part of it.

A kaleidoscope of emotions overflowed Starscream's senses inside the swirling mass of energy. He felt the despair, the anger, and the fear of those who had been consumed before him. He was pulled apart, sown together again, then pulled apart into pieces, each sown into other pieces. It was excruciatingly painful, but he lacked a mouth to scream. Unicron consumed him hungrily, indelibly, digging into everything that was Starscream and taking him apart by each component to use him in rebuilding.

Starscream regretted not being there to save the others from this torment. He would have liked to say goodbye and tell them how much he had grown to enjoy their company.

The anguish in his spark tingled as he thought about his stupid team of misfits and has-beens. He was unabashedly fond of them in his final moments, glad he had the time with them that he did.

But suddenly, everything stopped.

Unicron's form trembled, and the very fabric of reality seemed to shiver in response to his discomfort. His monstrous visage contorted in what appeared to be a grotesque expression of revulsion, as though Starscream's essence had been an unwelcome intrusion into his being. The cosmic winds howled around them as if the universe recoiled from the unholy fusion that had momentarily taken place.

The darkness that had enveloped Starscream began to waver, its grip on him weakening with each passing nanosecond. It was as if the very essence of Unicron's malevolence had been disturbed, thrown into turmoil by the Decepticon's… feelings.

With a violent upheaval that sent shockwaves rippling through the cosmos, Starscream was expelled from the maw of Unicron. He was cast out like a discarded toy, tumbling through the boundless expanse of space, his form twisting and contorting as if caught in the throes of a cosmic tempest.

As Starscream tumbled through the void, his systems reeling from the traumatic encounter, he began to perceive the presence of others around him. One by one, they materialized in the infinite abyss, emerging from the swirling ether. Around him, the remnants of the others materialized—Hot Rod, Astrotrain, and even Galvatron, all of them restored to form, their frames intact.

Starscream gazed back at the reeling helm of Unicron, still writhing in apparent agony.

Hot Rod's voice broke the stunned silence. "What the fuck?"

Starscream looked down at his own hands, still trembling. "I think... I think we gave him indigestion.”

“YOU FUCKING CRETINS!” Unicron bellowed. “YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO CHANGE– YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO REMAIN WICKED AND CRUEL, JUST LIKE ME!” 

The mechs stared at each other. Astrotrain shrugged. Galvatron furrowed his brow. "I don't think we've changed that much–"

"You deny it?!" Unicron yelled before falling into a coughing fit. "You are in love with that treacherous seeker and you deny how much you have changed?!"

Starscream blinked a few times, noticing how Galvatron decided not to deny anything.

“You picked fucking transformers to eat,” Hot Rod shouted back. “We like to change whenever we feel like it. So, fuck off!”

“‘What is given can be taken away,’” Galvatron repeated, looking back at the furious head floating in space. “But when you tried to regain our power, you took something else back within you.”

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore,” Unicron said sullenly. “You infected me with emotions. I hate it.”

Starscream smiled triumphantly. "Must suck to be so humiliated."

Unicron's response was a frenzied barrage of energy, a storm of hatred and anger that crackled through space. But even amidst the chaos, there was a momentary pause—a glimpse of doubt in Unicron's relentless assault.

“Stop right there, Unicron!” a new voice cried out.

An Autobot ship sailed overhead, with Optimus Prime standing on top of it with his arms folded. “I have come to stop you.”

“UGH,” Unicron scoffed. “Leave me ALONE.”

Starscream's frown deepened as he muttered, "He's going to take all the credit." The collective sigh of the group punctuated his words.

Optimus Prime's gaze shifted from the seething form of Unicron to the group below. "It seems you've already made quite an impact," he said with a nod toward the fading remnants of Unicron's malevolent energy.

Galvatron folded his arms across his chest. “We merely sought proof for you. Everything else was incidental."

Optimus's optics glittered in amusement. "Unicron,” Optimus called. “You can choose to embrace the potential for transformation within yourself. It's never too late to change your path."

Unicron's energy flickered, uncertainty mingling with its anger. "I am really uninterested, champion of Primus."

Optimus Prime's expression softened. "No one is beyond redemption, Unicron. If you choose to embrace change and seek a different path, you might find a way to heal the wounds you've caused."

Unicron's form trembled, and for a moment, it seemed the entity was truly considering Optimus's words. The energy that had been roiling with anger began to waver, its edges softened by a hint of something else.

“No. Fuck you.”

And then, with a final surge of energy, Unicron began to disintegrate. His form unraveled, scattering into the cosmic winds like ashes carried away by the eddies of a space storm. The echoes of his presence faded, leaving behind a void that was both eerie and oddly tranquil.

As Unicron's ominous presence wavered and ultimately dissipated into the cosmic abyss, relief washed everyone. The tension in space began to lift, replaced by an eerie calmness that settled like a gentle breeze among the stars.

Optimus Prime turned to the group below, his optics meeting theirs. "You've shown that even in the face of darkness, hope and change can prevail. The universe is better for it."

Starscream arched an optic ridge and was about to open his mouth when Hot Rod grabbed and hugged him from the side. “Shh! The Prime just said he thinks you did great! Congrats!”

Hot Rod’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Starscream preened. “I only did what was right.”

Galvatron, though he rolled his optics at the display of affection, couldn't hide a faint smile.

Astrotrain, 353, and 789 joined the group hug, making Starscream squawk indignantly, trying to flail his arms wildly at his side. The mechs just cooed and hugged closer, trapping him further.

Starscream noticed Galvatron go over to Optimus Prime and talk to him, but they were too far away for him to hear. He would have loved to hear what they were saying, but he was summarily trapped in affection that was quickly beginning to grate on him. 

“Get off me, you fools!” he cried. When they finally let him free, Galvatron was coming back to their little group. “Get his number?” Starscream asked with a huff.

“Yes, actually,” Galvatron replied thoughtfully. Starscream glared, immediately going rigid in shock. “He said he’d listen next time I have something to say.”

Starscream’s shoulders fell a little, and he swallowed. “Say, Galvatron, can we—”

“Hot Rod!” Optimus Prime called. “Time to head back.”

Hot Rod’s smile faded, and he nodded in receipt. “Time to return to Prime school, I guess,” he said sadly. "It was cool to get eaten twice with you all. I’ll see you all around.”

Starscream saw the young mech start to leave, looking dejected and defeated. He decided to save the Primeling, one more time.

“Maybe you can skip it for now,” Starscream suggested with a smile. “A sabbatical? After all, how can he learn what not to do unless surrounded by idiots?” Starscream said, indicating Galvatron and the Sweeps with a wave of his hand.

After a small sigh, he also indicated himself.

Ultra Magnus appeared at Optimus’s elbow and looked apoplectic, but Optimus stopped him. His optics shone brightly in a way that said he had great wisdom, and Starscream could feel a speech was imminent.

"Hot Rod, perhaps we can delay your return," Optimus said kindly. "It is times like these that remind me–"

“Astrotrain,” Starscream called, cutting off the boorish fool.  “Let’s get out of here. We have a universe to explore.”

Astrotrain chuckled and transformed into his locomotive mode. "All aboard, folks!"

Starscream glided to the open cargo bay and pulled Hot Rod in. Their pair of Sweeps followed, waving to the others expelled from Unicron and promising to stay in touch. Galvatron stepped into the cargo bay and moved past Starscream to go to the cockpit, barking orders to Astrotrain.

Starscream stood there like an idiot, staring after him, trying to figure out what to say to get his attention.

789 clapped him on the shoulder. “Congrats on not being a ghost anymore! It seems like we all got what we wanted out of this encounter,” he said, pulling 353 close to him in a tight hold. 353 giggled slightly and hid his face in 789’s chest. Hot Rod laughed and nodded in agreement as the door closed and Optimus and Ultra Magnus were hidden from view.

Starscream rolled his optics and stared at the cockpit. “Not… everything.”

Astrotrain put on his thrusters to a leisurely pace, as their destination was not set to anywhere in particular. The mech and his passengers seemed to want to bask in being alive for a little bit without making plans.

Starscream took a deep breath and then walked into the cockpit, seeing Galvatron concentrating on a map.

“At this point, I’m not sure I can trust anything Soundwave left us,” Galvatron said without looking up. “I don’t know what was a plot or what was real.”

Starscream felt invited to come over and look at the map himself. “This one at least is legitimate. It matches my own personal logs I made while running around out here after the war.”

“I didn’t see his betrayal coming,” Galvatron said thoughtfully. “You’d think I would be an expert in seeing it coming,” he said with amusement. But Starscream could tell he was quite shaken from the event.

“He’s long gone by now. He will live a quiet life with his cassettes somewhere out there where we never have to see him again.” Starscream wasn’t sure why he was trying to comfort Galvatron in this way; he felt compelled to say that Soundwave would never hurt him again, but that would be admitting that Galvatron had been hurt in the first place.

Starscream guessed Galvatron would rather not admit that aloud.

Galvatron gave him a look and then deactivated the monitor with the map on it. “Do you want us to drop you off again back on Cybertron? Now that things are more stable, we can take you anywhere.”

“Getting rid of me so soon?” Starscream said with a lopsided grin. But secretly, he feared he would have the choice just taken from him again, and he’d never have a chance to say what he wanted to.

Galvatron's crimson optics met Starscream's piercing gaze. "I’ve tried that already, and you just keep coming back," he replied exasperatedly. "But Cybertron is your home, after all."

Starscream's smirk faded into a more thoughtful expression. "Is it, though? Home, I mean."

The question hung in the air momentarily, the hum of Astrotrain's engines providing a constant backdrop to their conversation. Galvatron's optics searched Starscream’s face as if trying to discern any hidden meaning.

"Maybe it's time I explored other options," Starscream mused, leaning closer to Galvatron. "Cybertron is small for a mech that has died twice and lived to talk about it.”

Galvatron's optics narrowed as he leaned in, their faces inches apart. "And what options do you have in mind?"

Without thinking, Starscream's lips brushed against Galvatron's audial sensor, and electricity shivered through their frames. "You told me to come find you," Starscream whispered, "so I did. I wouldn’t mind looking for a new home somewhere out here in the cosmos."

Galvatron smiled, wrapping an arm around Starscream’s waist. “Then let’s start searching.”

FIN