Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A midsize yellow and black vehicle sped through the desolate plains of what was once Polyhex, kicking dust high into the air. From 1000 feet above the car was merely a skuttling insect -- a tiny, desperate insect in search of a nonexistent hiding place.

A shadow brushed over the vehicle, causing it to shutter, veer, and nearly tumble as it attempted to fold back on its course. The shadow grew bigger, pulling up beside its prey. Jet engines rumbled as if in mocking laughter.

Fear gave the yellow and black vehicle a final burst of speed -- an endeavor utterly futile. The jet tired of the chase and swooped low for the kill.

Goldbug felt the end of a thruster, still burning from ignition, ram into the roof of his vehicle mode. In a frantic attempt to regain control, he shifted into root form, drawing his blaster up at the mech pinning him down even as his back was shoved forward into the terrain by momentum. Two shots were fired in quick succession, the first missing the jet's helm, and the second leaving a smoking hole where two of Goldbug's digits used to be.

Goldbug's frame, battered and exhausted, came to a stop.

"I don't appreciate that, little bug," said the jet, in a voice that sounded like Starscream's but also wasn't Starscream's. It was coarser, higher, and cruel.

"This -- this isn't you," Goldbug stuttered.

The jet sneered. "And who are you to tell me that?"

Goldbug shook his head as if shaking off a bad dream. His cracked visor fizzed. Cerulean optics, white and red frame, shoulder-mounted blasters, wings bearing Decepticon symbols held high and proud, his feed told him. His database matched it up with Starscream. The weak, passive, soft-embered scientist who thought fighting was a matter of having more upgrades and war was about who was in the moral right. Stuck-up, self-righteous ivory-tower bot, always high in the sky, too precious to come down into the smoke and fray. Goldbug had dreamed of shooting him down, burning an ugly black hole into smooth white wing, shoving the aloof, guileless face into the ground to show that the jet was just like the rest of them -- mere dirt and scraps and fodder for war.

Now that Starscream was really down here, dust on his wings and scorches on his armor, inches away, it was nothing like Goldbug had ever imaged.

And Goldbug was terrified.

The jet must have understood his confusion. His grin grew wide, mocking, vicious, distorting features that were supposed to be soft and gentle. The barrel of his gun tipped Goldbug's chin.

"Maybe this has always been who I am."

Chapter Text

Connecting to the Archives was, in part, like Starscream's first time in deep space. Infinity engulfed him, rendering his being minute, insignificant, nonexistent. But at the same time, infinity fed him, drowned him in knowledge ancient beyond understanding, once brilliant, lost to the ages.

It was fitting to call it power. The power to save lives. To save Cybertron.

He guided his consciousness onward, beyond safe perimeters, driven by curiosity. A faint misgiving tingled his mind, soon overcame as he neared the magnetic nexus that he knew in his ember should be forbidden.

The knowledge had driven Optronix mad, after all.

Suddenly, he was severed. A jolt shot through his processor. His senses returned. Sight, then sound. A familiar mini-cassette was shouting, detached connector flailing in his hand.

Starscream managed to catch the end of Rumble's sentence. His ember went cold.

"-- he's here!"

The scorch of plasma fire barely missing his helm confirmed the fact. Starscream picked up Rumble and kicked off from the terminal, thruster melting metal.

[Yo dudes! The place is locking down! I can't hold the door open for long!]

"We're too far," Rumble whispered.

"We're almost there," Starscream said.

Towering structures of storage systems blurred past as Starscream weaved through Optimus Prime's archival maze with practiced finesse. He could see the rectangular patch of light from the exit. Flattening. Disappearing. His calculations told him he wasn't going to make it.

Just him.

Starscream produced a data stick and stuffed it into Rumble's hand. "Hold tight, this is everything I managed to extract. I need you to transform."

"Wha--"

"Now, Rumble!"

A large cassette took the place of the little bot inside his arms. The exit was barely a glowing line as they neared. Starscream could just make out Soundwave's blue on the other side. His thrusters burned pale cobalt, his arm swung out, he flicked his wrist, and Rumble slide past the door right before it thudded in contact with the ground.

Starscream barely stopped himself from crashing into the vertical surface at the full force of his charge. His arms took most of the impact. He struggled to stand, and as he moved he realized every creak of his damaged frame echoed through the mountainous chamber.

He stopped. The echoes receded. He couldn't hear his companions. Comms were blocked.

Pure terror gripped him when the only other living entity in the Archives spoke.

"What a pleasant surprise, Starscream," Optimus Prime's voice rumbled in the air. Starscream's battle protocols ran hot, frantically searching for the threat.

"If I had known this is what would lure you to me, I would have shared my collection a long time ago."

Starscream fired at shadows. He dashed to the side, away from where he thought Optimus was coming from. Blaster fire fell around him, one piercing his thruster. He threw himself between sets of shelves as he stumbled.

"Lovers of knowledge, are we not?" Optimus drew close, steps languid. "This could have been yours as well."

Starscream ran. What interior plans he had plotted of the Iacon base were utterly unhelpful. There was only one exit in the Archives. Any other paths were dead ends.

"It can still be yours, Starscream. Perhaps I shall extend my offer again. Imagine the greatness you would be able to achieve with what I alone can give."

Two shots, causally aimed, flew past Starscream, one nicking his armor. A door appeared in the wall as he rounded another row of shelves.

He could hide. He'd be cornered if he barricaded himself in, but he might have some time and composure to come up with a plan if the threat of being caught wasn't so near and tangible.

No, he can do better than that. Starscream retrieved everything he knew of the Archives. An idea hit him.

"Why do you concern yourself with the likes of Decepticons? What have they accomplished, other than struggle against inevitability?"

Starscream dove down the aisles, now with a purpose. He was searching for one of the largest rooms in the Archives, able to house a device with the power to bend space-time. Deeper into the maze he went, until his map of the Archives guided him to a large open gate. Past it, in the static dark, he could barely make out the outline of a stellar spanner.

The Old One's last project.

Starscream bolted into the chamber, swerved around, and aimed for the mechanical hinges above the entrance. The archaic entryway came crashing down, effectively trapping him inside -- but Optimus on the other side.

The first thud came soon after. The gate shook, but held. Optimus' second blow deformed the metal. The third blow lost all teasing. The warlord was angry.

Starscream worked fast to activate the stellar spanner. The machine spluttered upon initiation, and for a chilling second seemed to die. Its power cells, fortunately, were still connected to the Autobot base's central core. Starscream revamped the connection, causing a jolt of energy to surge through the spanner. The control panels fritzed. Outside, Optimus' assault paused, then resumed with intensified fervor. The gate buckled enough for a gray hand to pry through.

The Archives only recorded, by the Old One's own hand, of the construction of the spanner. Nothing was written of trials, no indication of its functionality. Starscream connected directly into the spanner's terminal, commanding it with a combination of his own scientific training and what he had learned from the Archives. He didn't need the device to take him halfway across the universe -- five klicks away from here was all he asked for.

The stellar spanner gathered charge, hummed, vibrated, and lit up the room in a flash and boom. Metal came crashing down behind Starscream. Optimus charged in, right as Starscream launched himself through the glowing spanner.

Chapter Text

Starscream tumbled onto a hard surface, smoke trailing his frame. His audials rang, his vision glitched, and he couldn't tell up from down. The world spun, and as he watched it spin, he became gradually assured of the fact the portal he came through had closed. He had no idea where he was. He hadn't been instantly vaporized or stretched across an event horizon though -- besides "the surface of a star" and "black hole", anywhere else had to be safer than within grabbing distance of Optimus Prime.

Then the room turned red, guns descended from the ceiling, and a monotone voice blared one word on repeat:

"INTRUDER."

Starscream's battle computer must have been taxed because his first reaction was to say "oh no" and shield himself with his arms. From heavy guns. On all sides.

It took him a second too late to realize how dead he was.

Except….the weapons didn't fire. Red turned blue, then back to normal interior lighting. The automatic security system stopped shouting.

"Signature: Recognized," it said instead. "Welcome back, High Chancellor."

Starscream lowered his arms and raised his head in confusion. He waited. Pushed himself up from the floor cautiously. Nothing happened. The room appeared to have accepted him.

Making some sense of his surroundings, Starscream’s first impression was that of an office, sleek and modern in style. Round interior, a few shelves with data-pads and curios (including a strange model plane and what Starscream presumed to be a crown), a single large desk set in the center, more data-pads piled high on each side, a few noticeably fractured. Across from the desk, as the interior designer had obviously intended, was a wall of clear glass, from which Starscream saw the peaks of an unfamiliar city, busy and bustling with airborne vehicles, bathed in sunset glow.

It wasn't as grand as what he remembered of Crystal City, but it was fantasies away from the current state of any existing Cybertronian civilization. Starscream's positioning system either failed to identify the location or had completely fried during his impromptu spatial jaunt, as it still marked him in Central Iacon.

High Chancellor. Starscream recalled the designation. A seat of government? What government? Curiosity battled his scruples on invading personal artifacts without permission, until at last Starscream sheepishly made his way to the desk and settled in the accompanying chair, the construction of which he found to be comfortably accommodating of his wings. The seat alone was a relief to his damaged thruster. He selected a data-pad from the top and began reading.

A working bill. Concerning a new infrastructure project to improve housing conditions for areas outlying Metroplex. A heated debate was going on in the amendments.

Starscream picked up another one. A trade treaty between Earth and Cybertron, under negotiation.

Even more baffled now, he flipped through a third. The data-pad's contents spilled out in a projection of a brand new city. The blueprint was labeled: Kaon Reconstruction.

A whoosh sounded from one side of the room.

Starscream was knocked clean off the chair. His vision went black, his wings scraped along the floor, something was pressing against his throat, and the force that had impacted his chest was pinning him down. His frame stopped sliding once his head hit a wall, hard. His processor fritzed. He tried to reboot his optics.

The first thing he saw was blue. Then something white. And something red. Until finally patches of color solidified into a large object resembling a Cybertronian in root form. White wings, with red stripes. No insignia. The thin, humming barrel between his optics was perhaps unhelpfully the last thing Starscream noticed.

"Who sent you?" the attacker hissed. "Prowl? Soundwave? Megatron?"

Perplexity dulled a tiny portion of Starscream's shock and fear. Who would know Megatron and Soundwave, but not know him?

"I know it's not one of the spineless wastrels city-side. I won't attribute this --" Starscream felt a ripple of pain across his wing -- "ostentatious display to their caliber of creativity and nerve."

The tip of the gun shifted, and looking past it Starscream saw his faction badge held up against a stunningly familiar face, although for the life of him Starscream couldn't recall where he had met the bot.

A disgusted humph. Red optics turned down. The badge twirled between blue digits. "Is this how you ingratiate yourselves to Autobots now? Abysmal combination."

"I'm not --"

Starscream choked as the hostile bot leaned close, knee crushing down on vocalizer, a dangerous glint in his optics.

"Do I want mundane lies? Or is there something worth torturing out of you?"

In lieu of functional verbal communication, Starscream shook his head in protest. His reinitialized battle computer wanted to take over, but seeing as how he was the intruder, Starscream would rather clear the air first. The increasing threat to his safety, however, was making diplomacy a decreasingly favorable course of action.

There was knock. The bot looked towards the direction of the sound in annoyance.

"Starscream? You there?" a new voice called, muffled.

Starscream stiffened in surprise. Who --

"What?" came the brusque reply, from the bot currently holding Starscream under a gun.

Astonishingly, the newcomer accepted the response. "What are you doing? You can't just run off in the middle of a meeting."

"An emergency requires my attention."

"What emergency?"

"One that doesn't concern you."

"It concerns me when you're using everyone's time to deal with personal problems."

The bot that had so naturally answered to the name of Starscream pulled back from Starscream, apparently to better fume. "It's a matter of state security the details of which are obviously not privy to you."

A few seconds passed. "Do you need help?" the muffled voice asked with a tinge of genuine concern.

"Don't you have a meeting to get back to?" was shot back.

"What's the point of continuing if you're just going to strike everything if we make decisions without you?"

A brief moment of consideration. "Put it on hold."

"How long do you need?"

"As long as I want."

"That's not how this works."

"Fine. Two hours."

"Ten minutes."

"Excuse me?"

"Unless you have a good reason as to why this can't be delegated to Ironhide --"

"One hour."

"Ten minutes."

Starscream heard the bot mutter "the nerve of her", and after some intense deliberation during which he glared venomously at his interrogee, answered aloud, "Thirty minutes. Inform the Council I will not be returning before then."

That seemed to placate the voice on the other side of the door. It also meant intently hostile attention was once more fully turned towards Starscream, whose dismay was quickly pivoting into wonder, wonder into fascination, fascination into revelation.

As Starscream studied his homonymous other, the improbable dawned on him.

"Wait!" he said before another guaranteed threat could befall. "I think you're me from another universe!"

Chapter Text

Starscream's initial assessment of the intruder was that he was a good liar -- almost as good as Starscream himself. It takes plenty of audacity and a heavy splash of creativity to spout the things he was running on about .

Then as the bot spoke of a "stellar spanner" and being in a war for Cybertron's freedom, Starscream adjusted his assessment to be "utterly delusional".

Although it was nice hearing the phrase "tyrannical Autobots" uttered with so much conviction after so long. Bumblebee's gape-jaw incredulity was a delightful bonus.

After that bit the bot began theorizing -- how he got here, how there are different universes, how the two universes are so different. He asked a lot of questions, and Starscream entertained the ones that were to his credit -- No, this Cybertron isn't half-irradiated and uninhabitable; yes, they were done with the war, quite a while ago actually; the right side won and everyone's living in peace and prosperity now, thanks to yours truly (that revelation got quite the emotional response from the loon).

Before Starscream could stop it, the rapid-fire theorizing evolved into the bot opening up his chest.

And Starscream was finally inclined to believe him.

In the place of a spark, was a glowing, spinning red thing.

"It's quite possible that the distinction lies here. If I match my scan against yours, I may be able to figure out how many universes removed mine is from yours," said the absolute maniac.

"You don't think this --" Starscream gestured vaguely at himself then at the bot "-- illustrates the 'distinction'?"

"Color, frame, environmental variation and the like are symptom of timeline divergence. Our personal histories are different, I'm sure, and our Cybertrons' history. But timeline is only superficial. Your security system recognized my biometrics as you, for instance --"

Starscream's alarm went unnoticed by the bot --

"The fundamental distinction lies deeper. I don't know how deep -- molecular, atomic, subatomic -- or even if the distinction can be observed from our current dimensionality, but the best way to find it would be to reference two objects that are certain to be identical across universes -- like two embers belonging to the same person."

"Ember?" Starscream echoed, as he quietly disabled biometrics for all of his security accesses and sent the second-to-last successful verification to Wheeljack with a memo.

For the first time since he shouted, I think you're me from another universe, the strange bot appeared wholly confused. "This," he said, pointing at the thing in his chest. "Do you…not have one?"

"Of course I do, I'm not a Catharsian. Here we call them sparks." Starscream averted his gaze from the glowing red thing. "Close your plating, I'm not going to undergo a spark scan with you right now. This is an administrative office, not a medical ward."

"Oh. Apologies. I do have the relevant equipment on me as part of my field medic upgrades -- I see that's not the point," the bot shifted back his armor, slightly embarrassed. "Well. It's…quite fascinating. Our universes' timelines must have split early into, or even before the establishment of Cybertronian civilization. Yet somehow they've converged at crucial points."

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment his overflowing enthusiasm was overtaken by a heavy sadness. "It's rather dreary to think all the different choices still coalesced into planet-wide war, don't you think?"

Starscream shrugged. "Split timelines don't have to mean completely different directions, maybe they're just different detours to the same destination."

The bot thought for a moment. "I think…I'd like that to be the case," he smiled wistfully. "When you told me this was Iacon, risen and rebuilt from the rubbles of war… it gave me hope -- conviction -- that my world will see this future. What you have accomplished is everything I could ever dream of. And if this is one of these destinations -- if only I can do half the things you have done for Cybertron…"

Suddenly, an urgent thought struck the bot. "Is Megatron still well in your universe?"

Starscream felt like an energon spear had struck straight through his chest. "Why?"

"I recall you mentioning him, when you questioned who I was sent by. Apologies again for my intrusion, I understand my trespass must have warranted your prior reaction. There are certain aspects of the interaction that I could have dealt with better had I been educated on the context. If you would, could you please enlighten me on the recent history of your world and the Decepticons? I am most eager to learn the whereabouts and well-being of --"

"Ah look at the time, I have that meeting to get back to," Starscream pretended to check his chrono. "We'll talk later."

"Oh. Of course. I'm really sorry for holding you."

Starscream dismissed the apology and began backing towards the door. "While I'm gone, don't leave this room, don't let anyone in, don't talk to anyone else. The alternate universe thing is a lot, you get what I mean?"

"I…understand. Um, may I ask how long you will be gone for?"

"A couple hours." The office door swooshed open.

"Oh. Could I please obtain some reading --"

The office door swooshed shut.

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?" Bumblebee asked as Starscream made his way back to the Council meeting room.

"Walking. Would be nice to fly, maybe I'll have these hallways widened."

"No, I mean what are you doing with -- with the other Starscream?"

"Other Starscream?"

"Well what else do I call him?"

"You really bought into his story."

"And you didn't? His spark is red and he was bleeding blue! Also please send him a medic."

"Camians bleed blue," Starscream slowed in his tracks. "He was bleeding? I didn't go that hard on him did I?"

"No, I think it was from a prior injury. He said something about being in a confrontation with his world's Optimus," Bumblebee's face scrunched up at the mention.

"Right, evil Prime. I might just like his world."

"So you do believe he's from another universe."

"Maybe. I'll have someone look into it."

"The other Starscream isn't a cynical, malevolent, churlish pain in the aft."

Starscream smirked. "Wonders of the infinite cosmos."

"You're going to take advantage of him. He doesn't know this world is completely opposite from his."

"Pfft, and you call me cynical. I have no reason to manipulate him. He possesses nothing I want and has no value to me whatsoever."

"Then why are you hiding the truth from him?"

Starscream hesitated before answering, "Did you see the way he looked at me?"

"He admires you."

"Yeah. And he's the first person since forever who doesn't go into a conversation hating or despising me."

"I don't hate you."

"Bee, don't delude yourself. Anyhow it's different. I'm a blank slate to him. He only knows me for who I am after the war and doesn't judge me for everything that came before. Can you fault me for wanting to shake off prejudice?"

"Windblade was like that."

"Windblade was already an Autobot. How's that not prejudiced?"

"Talking about me?"

Windblade was coming down the corridor, apparently on her way to bother Starscream again.

"Rehearsing insults, the best ones actually take effort," Starscream replied. "How has the past thirty minutes been for you, Delegate?"

---

[100% match, no hardware or software errors.] Wheeljack's message read. Attached were the biometric analysis and security system troubleshooting results.

Starscream took the information in as he entered his office.

The other Starscream stood up from Starscream's chair, a data-pad in hand. "Sorry for not asking for permission. I would have, but I had no way of contacting you, and --"

"If you're really me, this is also yours, right?" Starscream walked towards the desk and pushed aside a stack of data-pads to make room to sit. He waved the other Starscream down.

"Yes…and no," said the other Starscream. "Metaphysically --"

"There's a med-kit in the bottom cabinet to your left. Grab that for me."

The other Starscream dove below the desk immediately and produced the kit with haste. "What happened? Where are you injured?"

"Not me," Starscream took over the kit and started pooling out its contents. "Well I guess it's kind of me. I'm hurt right…here --"

As he spoke, Starscream pointed a scanner at the other Starscream's helm, eliciting a little "Oh". He brought the scanner down to the other Starscream's shoulders, chest, and every scorch on his armor.

"Thruster," Starscream motioned. "On the table."

The other Starscream complied timidly. "It has healed considerably. I don't even feel -- ouch!"

"I didn't take you for the lying type," Starscream said, bringing out a sonic tool.

"I wasn't…lying. The wound hasn't been much of a discomfort. I didn't want you to worry too much."

"I didn't take you for the worrying type," Bumblebee commented from the sidelines. "You're being suspiciously nice."

"I'm not. You've been leaking around my office all day," Starscream responded.

"I'm sorry," said the other Starscream.

"You don't have to say sorry all the time. Undercuts its significance when you use the word too much."

"Apologies," said the other Starscream, before he could stop himself.

Starscream sniggered. "Are you really sure you're me?"

"With 99.978% certainty. And…I hope so."

"You hope?"

"You're confident, assured, decisive. You posses many qualities that I could only aspire to. It's consoling to know that there's a version, possibly versions of me like this. That I can be like this."

Only Bumblebee noticed the tension on Starscream's face as he tried to suppress a wide grin. "How did you end up the way you are?"

"I can't really say. I think this is just how I've always been."

"This is how you've always been and you somehow ended up leading a war?"

"Same destination," the other Starscream smiled ruefully. "It was out of necessity rather than choice."

"Tell me."

"I'm not sure where to start. There may be overlaps or similarities that are redundant --"

"Pretend I'm a NAIL who rocketed off of Cybertron at the first sign of conflict."

"NAIL?"

"Neutrals. Neither Decepticon nor Autobot. You don't have those?"

"We do. But --"

"You call them something else. Figured. How did your war start?"

The other Starscream took a deep in-vent, steadied himself, and began.

A Golden Age. One mad mech's search for ultimate truth and power. A violent following that believed in advancement through conflict. The Autobot insurgency.

"Optimus Prime and his armies ravaged Cybertron and destroyed all that opposed him," the other Starscream hugged himself tight. His voice came out as a ragged whisper.

Starscream had mostly stopped attending to the damaged thruster. "He waged war for no reason other than power?"

The other Starscream nodded. "Knowledge had always been his primary objective. But to him, knowledge, power, and control are synonymous."

"Where are the Decepticons in all of this?"

A faint smile graced the other Starscream's melancholic features. "If it weren't for Megatron, the planet would have fallen to the Autobots ages ago. Megatron had predicted that a war was coming and prepared for it. When the Autobots rose, he and his companions were there to counter them, despite lacking military might. We made up the difference with Decepticon technology."

Starscream noted the transition in pronoun. "You were the one to introduce that technology," he inferred.

"Partially. Megatron and I developed it together. Was it the same with you?"

Starscream ignored the question. Megatron developed it? Megatron, the scientifically illiterate bolt-brain that uses spectrometers as bludgeons and Bludgeons as sane scientists? Megatron, the bucket-head that couldn't even fix his own fusion canon?

"What was the technology?"

The other Starscream looked surprised. "Transformation. The ability to take on alt-forms."

It took extreme control on Starscream's part to hide his incredulity and not exclaim, as Bumblebee's evident bafflement was silently shouting, You weren't born with that?! Instead, he nodded curtly and said, "Just confirming. What did your Megatron do before the war?"

"He was a professor of mathematics at the University of Polyhex."

"And you?"

"I was an interdisciplinary academic at the Crystal City Science Institute with primary research focuses in energy, materials science, and artificial intelligence. I also had projects in interstellar travel, geophysics, xenobiology, and several other fields."

"Wow," said Bumblebee.

Starscream felt like punching something. Preferably a more corporeal Autobot.

"And you lost all that during the war, I presume?"

"I lost my city," the other Starscream shuddered. "Optimus leveled Crystal City when I refused to join him. I would have deactivated in an Autobot prison if Megatron had not broken me out."

"I broke my Megatron out of prison," Starscream had to interject.

The other Starscream's optics brightened. "You'll never cease to amaze me, will you?" He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm more of a burden to my Megatron than aid. I was a mess of despair when he found me. He had to piece me together again. It took weeks for me to get back to who I was. He never asked me to repay the debt -- but staying with him was the least I could do. I wonder if he made me his second-in-command out of an obligation towards my dedication than for actual merit --"

A small cube of medical grade energon struck the other Starscream's nose. "Ow! Wha --"

Starscream suddenly grabbed ahold of his doppelganger's shoulders and stared intently down at stunned cerulean optics. "Never," he hissed, "never think you're not good enough for him. You're better than he ever deserves."

"But he's -- "

"You burn your spark -- your ember -- out for him, you take every sentence out of his vocalizer as your life's commandment, and he'll barely notice. The more you do, the more he takes you for granted."

"I failed his missions --"

"Plans go awry, bad things happen, not your fault."

"I lost his soldiers --"

"It's war, bots die, don't be so conceited to think you can be responsible for every one of them."

"I couldn't even take care of myself. He has saved my life more times than I can count."

"Start paying attention to the number of times you've saved his aft."

"I'm just one more thing for him to worry --"

The other Starscream abruptly bounded up from his seat, nearly knocking Starscream off the desk. "I should be getting back!" he exclaimed. "Megatron -- my friends -- they would've thought I'd been captured by the Autobots! I need to let them know I'm okay."

Friends. It took a second for Starscream to realize that the other Starscream seems to think the Decepticons care about his well-being.

It may actually be true in that ridiculous, upside-down universe.

A universe that didn't have Functionism because no one knew how to transform.

A universe that lost the perfect world because they were bored of peace.

A universe where Starscream still worshipped Megatron.

What a joke.

Chapter Text

The office security footage showed a large glowing portal apparate in front of the desk, propel a tangle of white armor and wings towards the window, and disappear in the same explosion it seemed to have swallowed.

"I'm guessing it was a one-way trip."

Starscream cautiously touched the air that he had materialized from. His scanners picked up nothing abnormal. He sighed. "Yes."

"Good. No other surprises will be popping into my office then," his host said, lackadaisically.

Starscream stood in silence. He didn't know how long he was buried in his thoughts, but it was long enough for an edge of irritation to make its way into the local Starscream's voice when he finally asked, "Can you recreate the portal?"

Starscream jolted. "I…don't know. I was reviewing the probability of the process succeeding. It's not favorable. The resource requirements alone are immense, and the theoretical bottlenecks are neigh impossible to overcome."

"You know what you need and what to do to get started, right?"

Starscream hesitated. Then nodded.

"So tell me what you need, figure out the rest later."

Starscream barely held himself back from hugging his alterate universe counterpart.

---

The archive files of the Old One's design, now displayed on a large holo-screen, was thankfully relatively intact and mostly decipherable. Starscream loci examined the blueprint for a few seconds, frowned, and said, "That’s just a spacebridge."

"Spacebridge?"

"Instantaneous interstellar transportation. Don't you have --"

Something clicked. The front of Starscream loci's helm connected with his palm. "Stellar spanner. You've been calling it stellar spanner."

"I didn't realize there was a terminology difference for it as well, apologies," Starscream drew the data-pad in his hand closer to his face as if to hide behind it.

"So you're going to turn a space-hopping machine into a universe-hopping machine. How does that work?"

"The principle is to tap into the multiverse continuum. Instead of creating shortcuts in the usual space-time continuum, the stellar -- spacebridge will tunnel through different universes. The leap to another continuum will require…"

It would literally require he collapse another universe into a singularity and sublimate reality.

Time travel has a higher probability of success.

He told Starscream loci just that. He would need not just all of the energy in the universe, but all of the energy and the matter to convert to energy, past, present, and potential. He would need to bend time, mold space, manipulate physics to the degree that the world wouldn't even be the world anymore. He would need another universe, an empty one very much preferably. He may be able to create a micro-verse, but scaling would lead to other complications.

"And even if it is somehow possible, it would take millions of years," Starscream concluded despondently.

"Good news," Starscream loci tilted his helm to the side, looking a little smug, "I think I have just what you need."

---

Starscream tried out his thruster. Walking was no trouble. Flying threatened to make things a lot worse.

"I don't think I can carry you," Starscream loci frowned. "How come you're nearly twice my size?"

"I had undertaken extensive modifications," Starscream replied.

"So you were originally…" Starscream loci pinched two digits together.

"Similar in stature as you, yes."

"How do you handle the extra load?"

"I, uh…manage. My upgrades are highly optimized. There have been few issues."

"So you can't actually handle the extra load."

Starscream felt his faceplate increase in temperature. "It's not too much of a problem," he gave the same response he gave to Soundwave.

Starscream loci shrugged in a way that said I don't particularly care so don't bother lying.

"I'll arrange for a transport. Flying through all the sand there is a disaster anyway."

"Sand?"

"Weather anomalies, geographic anomalies, all kinds of anomalies. There's a reason Crystal City's a dead zone with a 10 kilometer radius."

"Oh." A queasiness took over Starscream’s abdomen. "May I ask what happened?"

Starscream loci seemed to want to blurt out something, stopped himself, and composed a more poised answer. "Someone wanted Cybertron to last forever by drawing all of time and all the resources in the universe to the planet. He was stopped of course, and what would have engulfed the universe only took Crystal City and became a hovering dot."

Starscream felt as if all the energon in his lines had frozen. "How many were in the city?"

"When it became a singularity? Just the bot responsible for the whole thing and one little blockhead. Transport's on the roof. I thought you'd be more interested in how he did it."

Starscream barely remembered his motor functions when Starscream loci revealed an elevator inside the office and motioned for him to follow. "I am," he replied absently. "You were able to evacuate almost everyone from the city?"

"Nothing was left there except old ruins. Reconstruction efforts hadn't been extended beyond Iacon at the time. The only people in Crystal City on the day were -- you know," Starscream loci shrugged.

"Who were they? The two that remained in the city?"

He didn't receive a response. The elevator stopped. A breeze brushed over Starscream's face.

It wasn't the scent of ozone or rust that greeted him, but the long-lost tinge of normalcy. Of peace.

Night had fallen, and the city glittered like a galaxy.

Every step Starscream took was a new step into this strange universe. The gravity of it hit him just then. His helm was abuzz with wonder and excitement and a sadness he couldn't shake off and it made him dizzy.

"You okay?"

"Yes," Starscream reset his optics. He took a deep in-vent. An ex-vent. He shuddered as the air left his systems. "I'm okay."

He glanced back at the city below them again. "I would love to know this world."

"I can show you around, when your thruster's better. That is, unless you're leaving permanently after you get your portal up-and-running?" Starscream loci said as he settled into the pilot seat. Starscream followed him onto the transport.

"You would welcome me back?"

"Sure."

Starscream bit back his surprise and surge of joy. "Thank you. If I could establish a stable connection between our universes -- I would extend the same courtesy. But my Cybertron is considerably less…appealing. Iacon, in particular."

The transport lifted off the landing pad. "Overrun by vile Autobots?"

"Well…yes." Starscream thought for a bit, then added, "Although I have recently come to see that perhaps not all Autobots are -- 'vile'."

Starscream loci sniggered.

Starscream felt his faceplate heat up again. "I understand this must be common sense for you. To have united Cybertron -- the Autobots and Decepticons must have saw each other as more than enemies. But when one has witnessed the Autobots' brutality and cruelty up-close so many times, it's hard to imagine anyone following Optimus Prime to behold any semblance of honor or empathy. Until Sideswipe joined us."

The transport veered sharply, and would have thrown Starscream into the side of the vehicle if not for the seatbelt. "Sorry about that," said Starscream loci, incredibly placidly.

"It's okay, I'm unhurt."

"So. Sideswipe. How did he become a Decepticon?"

"He didn't. He remained an Autobot. But he no longer saw the current Autobot cause as one that he would willingly follow, so he renounced Optimus and lent his aid to the Decepticons."

Starscream loci muttered something.

"Sorry, could you please repeat that?" Starscream asked.

"It's nothing."

"Oh."

Starscream loci fell silent after that. Starscream wondered if it would be appropriate to follow up on what this universe's Sideswipe is like. Curiosity was bursting inside of him, but as the pause in the conversation dragged on it became harder to bring up the subject again. They were beyond the bounds of Iacon when Starscream finally dismissed enough of the awkwardness and was ready to ask more about the local universe when --

"Wheeljack's my head scientist," Starscream loci said.

"Wheeljack?"

"He's not a scientist in your universe?"

"He is. But -- he's not exactly, stable."

"What, experiment gone wrong and now he's glitching in and out of corporeality?"

"No. Did that happen to this universe's Wheeljack?"

"It happened to someone."

Starscream wanted to ask Who?!, realized it would very likely lead to more ambiguous answers and twice the number of questions, and decided to focus on Wheeljack for now.

"My universe's Wheeljack is…to put it bluntly, insane. He has certain talents, but the bot is deluded, maniacal, and unhinged. He also stole my work and twisted them for his --" Starscream made a face -- "projects."

"Interesting."

"I suppose your Wheeljack is --"

"Also a lunatic."

Starscream's ember jumped to his throat.

"His inventions are out of the world, his lab explodes twice a week, and he is constantly a danger to himself. But he's done a lot for Cybertron. And he's one of the most brilliant scientific minds I know." Starscream loci turned around to face Starscream with a mischievous grin. "You might like him."

"Anyway, no one on this planet knows more about spacebridges than him -- except for one other, but it's not her business anymore."

Starscream felt like a hoard of dinobots were tumbling around in his processor.

He decided to change the subject.

"If I may… What was it like for you? Before the war."

The frame in the pilot seat tensed.

"I was more politically disposed than scientifically disposed, if that's what you're wondering. Vos was my city, then Kaon. I was fighting Autobots on the senate floor before we ever had battlefields."

Very different personal histories then.

"The Autobot uprising on this Cybertron was…civil?"

"You could say that," Starscream loci's frame relaxed slightly. "They got violent when they realized things weren't going the way they wanted."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"No one should lose their world like that."

Starscream loci didn't immediately respond. "To be honest," his voice was lower -- sterner -- when he did speak, "Cybertron needed to change at the time. It was just a matter of how. Ultimately, peace wasn't the way to go."

The transport touched down. The door opened. Starscream could just barely make out a cave to the right. As they debarked, a thought occurred to him.

"Did your Megatron have a different occupation as well?"

"Um-hm."

Starscream waited for more information.

Starscream loci glanced back, rolled his optics, and said, "He was a poet. Philosopher."

"And geologist," he added, a few steps later.

---

The singularity was everything Starscream needed.

Well, almost everything. He still needed an energy harvester, a field generator, stabilizer, several connectors, controls…..

But he can build all that that.

He didn't know how long he talked, or if Starscream loci was listening. When he finally did stop to take a break, his host simply asked, "What do you need?"

He made a list. Starscream loci looked it over and had him explain every component.

"You don't need energy?"

"It's all in here," Starscream waved excitedly at the whole. "Virtually infinite energy. And I think I know how to harness it"

"I could've known this sooner," Starscream loci frowned. "Drawing cables from here to Iacon is highly impractical, but if we were building closer..."

They spent another hour on the list. Starscream drew up a blueprint. Starscream loci requested a construction schedule.

"If it's just me, this will take two weeks."

"Right. If you don't rest, refuel, or recharge."

"I can handle it," Starscream said determinedly.

"How fast can you get it done if you had help?"

"With a qualified technician? I might be able to cut the time down to half -- Are you…thinking of sending Wheeljack?"

"Of course not. I told you, he's my head scientist. He has things to do."

"Oh. It's just -- you mentioned him and I thought -- never mind."

Starscream secretly sighed in relief.

"The thing is," Starscream loci said with a strange look, "I'm not keen on too many people knowing about this. At least at the moment. Two of me, and who knows what else after you connect the worlds. I certainly wouldn't like the wrong bots to be let through.

"I understand," Starscream said softly, suddenly wondering if opening the way back was the right choice at all.

"I'll arrange for a technician. When you do meet him, don't reveal too much. I'll only tell him you're a neutral scientist studying the singularity -- you'll have to get rid of that other badge first. If he asks why you need all the spacebridge tech -- let him know you're trying to enter the black hole."

"It's dangerous, but not entirely unfeasible."

Starscream was gently -- sort of -- tapped on the head with a data-pad. "You're not actually going to do it, not even as a side project," Starscream loci glared. "Equipment will arrive in multiple shipments, starting tomorrow morning. Meanwhile --" he rested a hand on his hip and looked around -- "Would you like to head back or…"

Starscream shuddered at the thought and elected the first option.

---

The ride back was relatively quieter. Starscream spent his time reviewing and compiling the reading from the singularity. Starscream loci provided him with the need-to-know version of how it came to be.

Puzzle pieces came together, events fell in place, and he had a model in his mind. Every component, every reaction, every detail of the black hole.

Starscream realized something.

Crystal City isn't gone. The theory checks out. The numbers confirmed it.

He griped the data-pad tight. A sliver of hope shook him to the core.

Chapter Text

Flatline's message came with an attachment of the test results. [The frame sample is normal. Slightly irradiated, but not so much to cause harm. The energon sample is very much abnormal, and despite the color it is definitely not Camian. It's not metabolism that's causing the abnormality, but possibly something to do with the intake energon. And I don't mean the intake energon has too much energex or nightmare fuel -- there's no trace of substance in the sample. It is simply fundamentally wrong. Wrong but healthy. It functions perfectly as energon. My closest guess is mutation, but there is nothing definitive connecting this mutation to the radiation observed from the frame sample.]

This was what Starscream liked about Flatline. Clear, direct, and no questions asked. On the other hand --

[Hey, I know it's not really my business and you probably won't give me a straight answer,] Wheeljack messaged after Starscream sent him part of the other Starscream's requisitions -- with several additions of his own, [but since I am responsible for this stuff and the safety of Cybertron I have to ask -- What are you using them for?]

Starscream leaned back in his chair, typed out a few words, deleted them, then started again. [Do you know what I wanted to do back when Cybertron was still run by a Prime?]

[…]

[Kill the Prime and rule the planet?]

[I wasn't that ambitious back then.]

[I thought it was always your dream job.]

[Only after I met Megatron.]

[So who was Starscream before that?]

Starscream smiled sardonically.

Nothing but empty dreams.

[I'd come across this one guy who wanted to study biomedical engineering, energetics, and geophysics, among other things,] Starscream sent. [Problem was, he's a big airplane.]

He paused to let the last sentence sink in.

[Oh,] was Wheeljack's uneasy reply.

[So yeah, it was a stupid dream. But the bot was smart, talented, and down-right obstinate. I was factory-fresh and impressionable. He made me believe he's going to achieve it one day. And I wanted to share in his dream. Functionism be damned, we were going to be alt-mode exempt, get into the best science academy on Cybertron, travel the galaxies doing our own thing, discovering new planets, meeting new lifeforms.

[What I didn't realize at the time was that he had a shot and I had none. He was a gift of Primus -- a gift mostly good for transportation but a gift nonetheless. I was a knock-off built to patrol Cybertron's skies and deactivate in some pointless conflict.

[He ended up in the University of Ultirex. I ended up in a gladiator pit in Kaon. He hated Functionism and flipped it off by doing what they forbade him to do. I hated the Primes and the Senate and became what they built me to be.

[Not to say I didn't enjoy it when I shot them up. And I guess I did eventually get to travel the galaxies and all.]

[Starscream...]

[That was in poor taste, sorry.]

[The thing is,] Starscream continued, [I have everything right now. I can do anything. I don't have to be a solider or a weapon. And there are a few things on my bucket list that I'd like to pick up.]

Wheeljack didn't reply for a while. Starscream could imagine him rereading the requisition list.

[Are you building a lab?] Wheeljack sent.

[ :) ]

[…]

[Alright. I'll get the things to you. Lemme know when you need a hand.]

[I also have a few thesis recommendations if you're looking to delve deep into my fields,] Wheeljack added.

[Great.]

[And Starscream -- thanks for telling me all that.]

Starscream released a heavy ex-vent and closed his comms.

He briefly wondered what the other Starscream's universe's Jetfire is like. He'd given the name to Soundwave as a potential recruit, hoping -- knowing the flyer would hop onboard the Decepticon cause. Then Jetfire defected. To Starscream, it wasn't utterly unexpected, with what the Decepticons were doing at the time. By then Starscream had enough blood on his hands to fill the crater that was once Kaon Central Courthouse.

In that other universe…would Jetfire start out as an evil Autobot and become a goody Decepticon? Or would he be a Decepticon that turned bloodthirsty and ruthless? Neither made sense -- Starscream couldn't imagine why the other universe Jetfire would turn to violence when nothing was in the way of all that he wanted to achieve.

Maybe he got bored, too. Maybe he wanted something else.

Starscream discarded the thought. He finally noticed Bumblebee sitting crisscross on his desk, studying him.

The other Starscream should be in deep recharge after the sedative-laced energon. It was just so Starscream could get some work done without that on his mind. He still checked the security cam on the spare office bedroom before speaking to Bumblebee -- the walls are only one-way soundproof by design.

"You're on my data-pads."

"I'm not actually here."

"Rather distracting for something who's not actually here."

"What are you doing? It's not like you to ask for nothing in return for help. And this is expensive help."

"I'm helping myself out," Starscream flashed a smile.

"You're doing a lot of things behind your own back."

"Nothing to his detriment."

"He builds the portal. Then what?"

Starscream shrugged. "I might follow him through. It'll be a rather interesting world to visit, wouldn't you say? I wonder what you're like there. Still Optimus' lackey, or a traitorous glitch?"

Bumblebee set his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "I think I like you like this."

"Conniving and duplicitous? It's how I've always been."

"Yeah, but on top of that, you're opening up. You're comfortable enough to open up and you're happy. I mean genuinely happy. For most of the good reasons, too."

Starscream kicked his thrusters on his desk, crossed his arms, and stared accusingly into Bumblebee. "I hate that you said that."

"Because you take my compliments as cues to go in the exact opposite direction?"

"Because happiness is the peak of a cliff and the only way forward is a freefall with a bad end."

"You're a plane."

Starscream picked up the Earth alt-mode model at the edge of his desk, broke off a wing from the crack it had acquired that one time he'd knocked it onto the floor, and dropped it from helm-height.

The thud echoed.

The plane lay ajar, its remaining wing bent.

Chapter Text

Scoop wasn't bad company.

Starscream knew Scoop as one of the less malevolent Autobots -- mainly because his universe's Scoop was too scared most of the time to do anything serious. This Scoop was almost the opposite -- cheerful, easygoing, and not at all paranoid. Maybe this was what all Scoops could have been like sans a pathologic fear of absolutely everything.

Still, some eccentricities remained multi-versal, and Scoop loci believed in Primus wholeheartedly. Starscream wasn't against it -- the belief is harmless enough, and Scoop is entitled to his own. But Primus-believers have never meshed well with logic or sense in the past, and Scoop was Starscream's only help on the spacebridge.

Hm. It's not really a spacebridge anymore is it?

It turned out, however, that Scoop was quite competent. He was no engineer or physicist, but whatever Starscream could draw up he could build. Supplies kept coming, and soon enough Starscream had an entire laboratory setup in the singularity cave. Starscream loci sometimes dropped by. Most of the time he merely observed. Sometimes he offered a hand.

"You're burning," was the first thing Starscream loci said after he landed on the day the first test run was scheduled.

Starscream checked his external temperature. His hands shot away from the panel he was working on. "Oh no. I could've damaged the equipment."

"You really did plow through without recharge."

"We've made incredible progress," Starscream heaved a long ex-vent. His fans weren't doing enough of a job. He went for the stash of coolant that had been his other indispensable companion in the past few days. "Thank you, again."

Starscream loci took over the work station. He administered the system checks, reviewed the inputs, and received a nod from Scoop on the power adapter side of things. "Shall we go then?" he asked.

Starscream took a few deep cycles of air. "Okay. Initialize."

The switch was flipped. The machine hummed then buzzed then roared in a chorus of intricate parts coming to life. The ring, within which the portal is expected to appear, shuddered as energy surged through it, swirling, coalescing, directing into a tiny whirl of pink in the air that suddenly expanded to fill the rest of the round frame, sending shock waves across the vicinity. Starscream was nearly knocked off his thrusters. Someone utter a low "wow".

Then just as quickly as it appeared, the portal popped out of existence.

---

The pink glowing thing in the middle of the Crystal City ruins vanished for the twelfth time since Prowl arrived on the scene. He gave up timing the apparitions and de-apparitions two vanishings ago since there really wasn't any apparent pattern to it aside from the obvious observation that the glowing pink thing was staying around longer each time. From the distance they were at, up on a hill of rubble, it was hard to determine what exactly it was, whether it's Decepticon or some freak of nature or a remnant of one of the Autobots' best and nuttiest minds. The readings whacked out his sensors, but they didn't seem to indicate instant evaporation within close vicinity.

"We need to get closer."

"I'm sorry, we?" said Downshift.

"My bad." Prowl directed his should armaments at Downshift and the bright green bulldozer trying to disguise himself as a chunk of wall. "You two, get down there and find out what that is."

"Hol' up Prowler. There's two of us Remote Patrol Six and all you've got is the idiot sunshine over there and that wimp. And you think you can bully me?"

Huffer smiled vacuously at the insult.

A large caliber barrel jabbed Downshift's back. "Do as he says," growled Warpath.

Downshift jumped. "The frag, you tool! You're supposed to be on my side!"

That earned Downshift a harder jab. He stumbled forward and nearly tipped off the hill.

"That blip is giving off more power than what we can scrounge up in a hundred giga-cycles. We find a way to make it useful to Prime --" Warpath tipped his head in lieu of finishing off with the obvious.

"Prowler's just gonna snatch up the credit!"

"I promise to share," said Prowl.

"Your promise means jack!"

Prowl fired. Burning plasma grazed Downshift's leg. He yelped.

"I know, but this means plenty," Prowl smiled.

Grumbling, Downshift conceded. "At least get that oversized shovel to start clearing the way."

Without looking, Prowl release another bolt at the chunk of wall. Scoop screeched and scrambled into view.

"Move it," Prowl hissed.

Not needing to be shot at twice, Scoop transformed and rolled down the hill towards the now reappeared glowing anomaly.

---

"This isn't working. There's no difference."

"I know, I know," Starscream shook his head in frustration. His fans whirled on their highest settings, screaming to break. "Without a receiving platform on the other side, this gate can't stabilize. All I can do is maximize its efficiency so it stays open longer." He readjusted the calibrations and turned the universe-bridge on.

Starscream loci braced himself against the control console as the portal burst through the fabric of the world once again. He picked up a diode sensor and threw it into the swirling pink hole. The device plopped in like a rock in a pond, sending ripples across the surface of the portal.

"Huh. Guess you're getting something right. It didn't implode like the last three times."

"And just like the laser measure, the pyrometer, and the pressurized ionization chamber, there isn't any feedback,” Starcream pulled up a live readout from the diode sensor. "Interference from the displacement of dimensional fields is too great. Anything that goes is just…gone."

"What if a person goes in?"

Starscream looked up sharply. "Please don't."

"Oh come on," Starscream loci tilted his head back exasperatedly. "You don't even know if it is your world on the other side."

"Once I stabilize the portal, I can design sensors and drones that won't be affected by the disrupted field. Then we'll know exactly what's past the portal, what the effects are of going through it, and how to minimize any risks. We have the time. There's no need to endanger yourself needlessly."

"Wait, you think I was proposing to send myself into the pulsing irradiant hole that closes up on itself without warning every ten to seventy seconds?"

Starscream stared, tried to reply, found no words, and finally emitted a tiny, "Oh."

Starscream loci cocked a grin. "I have more sense than you to not jump through untested physics-breaking tunnels destination unknown."

Just then, something green and shrieking shot out of the universe-bridge.

---

Downshift's hand lowered from where he'd shoved Scoop through the pink two-dimensional circle floating in the air.

[What the frag was that?] Prowl sent through comms. He was still in the distance at the bottom of the hill.

[It's a portal thing. The best way to find out about a portal thing is to have someone look in.] Downshift explained.

[And what if that someone is unable to report back?]

[Then I know not to touch the portal thing.]

The circle suddenly quivered, shrunk rapidly, and disappeared with a pop as displaced air rushed into the previously occupied space.

[See?] Downshift waved at the spot Scoop had vanished from.

[Stay where you are.] Prowl commanded.

On the strip that Scoop had plowed clear of rubble and long-deactivated frames, a car, a tank, and a small tow truck were fast approaching. Downshift debated between obeying and running. He checked Prowl's last message again. It didn't sound threatening, not for Prowl. A sentence like that from Kup and Downshift would've buried himself under concrete for cycles until whatever angered his CO blew over.

Still, he maintained his distance when Prowl transformed in front of him. Downshift was saved from conversation by the abrupt appearance of the portal. He shot five paces backward when the edge of the pink circle expanded to engulf half of his hand.

Prowl snickered. "Lose any parts?"

Downshift touched the part of his hand that had crossed the portal. It seemed fine.

"Would be devastating," Prowl added. "Not much to begin with."

Downshift flipped him off to demonstrate how well the hand was functioning. Prowl took the time to return it before addressing Huffer. "Throw a line in there, see if you can get Scoop."

Huffer skipped forward cheerfully. "Will do boss, I'm sure Scoop's fine in there." He readied a harpoon on his crane-cannon arm. "But he's probably going to be finer back. Can't beat here and now."

Huffer fired. The harpoon shot into the glowing pink circle and disappeared, drawing a length of tow cable behind. It soon became obvious Huffer had hit something. He locked down the cable and prepared to reel it in when the thing on the other side pulled. Huffer landed on his face.

"I'm okay! Just a tiny --" the little truck grunted as he tried to regain control "-- technical problem."

Warpath walked in front of Huffer, grabbed the taunt cable, and with one heavy heave flung the harpoon -- and the thing attached to it -- out of the portal, into the air, and onto the other side of Prowl.

Downshift gaped.

Warpath remained stoic.

Prowl said, "Nice catch."

Huffer righted himself, traced his tow cable from cannon to harpoon, stared, looked back at the portal, then at the harpoon end again, and exclaimed, "Scoop got wings?"

Chapter Text

Starscream was mad.

Mad about being caught off guard by a hysterical Scoop from another universe. Mad about being shot through the side by a long, sharp projectile from another universe. Mad about being dragged into said universe by said projectile in a manner quite unbefitting of the Supreme Ruler of Cybertron. Mad about being thrown into the air and landing hard on his front.

He struggled onto his feet, facing the bot to whom the harpoon protruding out of him was attached to. At the position it's lodged in, Starscream was sure if he pulled it out he'd bleed unconscious in under an hour. The cable was made of nanocarbon polymer, hard to burn through. He very much wished he still had his swords.

"So…not Scoop," said the mostly monochrome bot with the tow cable.

"As if," Starscream raised his arm and fired.

The shot hit the bot square in the head. But instead of receiving a sizzling hole through his brain module, the bot jolted, went stiff, and fell backward like a block of concrete.

Starscream lurched forward with a "Scrap!" at the unexpected pull from the crane end of the tow cable, narrowly missing a plasma bolt over his head. Battle protocols, which had remained half-dormant throughout peace time, kicked into full gear. Starscream had forewent most of his onboard weaponry for a more civilian, NAIL-pleasing image, but he’d brought down civilizations with just his null rays, and the rusty, sulfurous atmosphere that surrounded him now was his element.

He shot back instinctively, hitting his mark before he even identified the target. A string of expletives spewed forth from his victim. Starscream reoriented himself to finish the job --

And found his guns aiming at a red-optic, dark-helm, purple-badge Autobot that resembled a great deal to, sounded a great deal like, and is very possibly no-doubt-about-it Prowl.

"I'm so going to enjoy this," Starscream hissed.

Faster than the off-color and hopelessly aesthetic-blind Prowl could recover from the sudden malfunction of a leg, Starscream was on top of him, shoving shoulder cannons backwards into the ground, thrusters burning hot and digging into plating.

"Get him off!" Prowl shouted.

A heavy blast from behind nicked Starscream's right wing and carved a flaming hole into the ground next to Prowl's head. The effort was thanked by, "You idiot! You almost hit me!"

Starscream swerved around to deal with the new assailant -- a little too late. The Warpath-shaped blue bot had grabbed onto the tow cable and with one sharp tug pulled Starscream back and into close proximity to his smoking chest cannon. Starscream dropped flat to dodge the shot. The harpoon hit the ground and slid as far up as the cable attachment. Starscream grimaced. Error messages bombarded his vision but the wound didn't hurt much -- at least not now. This is the kind of damage that will bite hard later, and Starscream hoped by then the other Starscream would have portaled him out of here.

Warpath stomped hard on his already damaged wing. Starscream threw half of his insult reserve at the bolt-brained brute. He was at too odd of an angle to hit anything of use. The Autobot's big blue barrel turned downwards.

Survival took over strategy. Starscream seized the harpoon, pulled it out with the tow cable still going through him, and stabbed upwards. Warpath snarled and stumbled back, a main energon line punctured at the hip. Starscream flipped over onto his knees, clutching his side. He winced. Energon flooded his hand.

Scrap. Scrap.

Warpath growled. "I'm going to te --"

Everything went silent.

Starscream could see Warpath orienting his chest cannon, imagine the churn of gears and the creak of a leg taking on extra weight, but his audials couldn't pick up the noises that were supposed to be present. It was as if the air around them had disappeared, and sound was sapped of its medium. Dead silence. Warpath continued the sentence for two more seconds before he realized he wasn't hearing himself. He startled, then looked up.

The tank was immediately bodied by something dark grey and white and very large.

A blue opalescent wing came close to Starscream's nose, causing him to tip back and fall on his elbows. For a while Starscream could only comprehend the image in front of him in parts. Dark helm. Cannons like they were made from pure energon. Broad white chest. A red badge. A red Decepticon badge. Blue optics.

Warpath lay on the ground a little battered and fully unconscious. The new bot turned to face Starscream. He said something. Silence swallowed his words. The bot looked up and appeared to communicate something on internal channels.

And sound returned.

"Are you alright?" the bot asked, voice low, familiar, gentle. Uncanny.

Starscream lost all motor function.

A jet screamed overhead, flew low, and transformed into the most-disastrously colored Cybertronian in existence.

"I saw two vehicles speeding away. I can catch up to them."

"No, it's too risky," said the big grey and white bot. "We need to treat our wounded."

The jet jolted when he saw Starscream. "Dang. That's a lot of -- I want to say energon but the color's off?"

The big bot nodded solemnly. Slowly, he moved closer to Starscream, until they were almost touching. "Would you mind if I examine your injury?" he asked.

Starscream's mouth hung agape. No words came.

"I think he's in shock," said the jet.

The big bot tried again, "One of your major energon lines has been damaged. I'm going to close it with a field kit and transport you to a proper medical facility later. However, the process of welding the wound will hurt. I need to ask you to turn off your receptors for your abdominal region. Can you please do that?"

No response.

"…In that case, I will apply dampeners to the area surrounding the damage. May I?" He retrieved a few small devices from a kit and extended a hand towards Starscream. After some time during which there was more critical bleeding, he softly touched Starscream's side. There was a shudder, but no rejection.

The bot applied the dampeners, cut the cable, removed the foreign object, and delicately mended the hole through Starscream's body, digits surprisingly light and meticulous for something so large. His hands were covered with purple-pink liquid by the end. He cleaned them off, along with the energon splattered across Starscream -- not all belonging to the same person -- then handed the med kit to the jet to pack up.

"I'm going to transport you now," he said to Starscream.

Again, frozen surprise was the reply.

He set one arm on Starscream's back and the other under his knees, then gently lifted. From the bot's poise one might've thought he was carrying a sheet of aluminum. He steadily rose to the air on anti-gravs.

They were about 200 meters in the air when Starscream regained himself.

All of Starscream became animated in a single second. In that second he'd slapped what was regretfully, appallingly, freakishly this universe's Megatron on the nose, kicked him in the chin, shouted "Let me go you fragging counterfeit!", dropped halfway towards the ground, was caught, fired a thruster into Megatron's face, and fell all the way to the ground.

The impact didn't knock him out immediately. But a combination of energon loss, dampeners, and head injury sent him into a blackout just as the disgustingly concerned face of Megatron came into view.

Chapter Text

Waking up in a medical bay with Megatron looking down at him had never bode well. Because frag all would he have a reason to wait for Starscream to regain consciousness other than the worst possible reasons.

So Starscream saw it as a perfectly rational response when he tried to shoot up the room upon being greeted by a Megatron's mug first thing. Except someone had taken away his guns and moving his body felt like shifting blocks of concrete. All to say, he ended up on the floor next to the medical slab with two arms raised rather idiotically.

The blue-optic Megatron walked up to him. Starscream scooched back. "Don't come any closer."

To his mild surprise, Megatron obeyed. "I know you're confused and scared --"

"I'm not scared!"

 "-- but I mean you no harm. If you would calm down I can explain --."

"You kidnapped me."

"Starscream, please."

He didn't say it the way Starscream always remembered the same voice with the same words. There was calm, there was sincerity, and there was an almost pleading need to communicate. It made Starscream confused and disoriented. He knew how to deal with cutting irony and cruel sarcasm. He didn't know how to deal with this. A part of him wanted to be contemptuous. Another part was too confounded to rile up anger and derision.

"You know who I am," he said after a Primus-knows-how-long stretch of silence.

"While repairing you we discovered your ember signature to match those of Starscream's -- our Starscream's -- exactly." Megatron lowered himself to sit on the floor so as not to tower over Starscream. The action barely made his figure less imposing. "But the energy and radiation readings from your frame represent a never-before-seen type of energy matrix, mixed with temporal and tachyon particles. A deeper examination revealed that your ember is charged with positrons, instead of electrons, like ours."

"Which led us to conjecture," Megatron concluded, "that you are a Starscream, but from a different reality."

"Who's us?"

"Specifically, Hook -- my Chief Medical Officer, Scrapper -- our base medic on duty, and me."

Starscream let the information sink in. He touched the mended patch on his abdomen almost unconsciously, and with no small amount of concern.

"You're Decepticons," he said weakly.

"We are." Starscream noticed Megatron glance briefly at his empty wings. "You don't seem surprised at being told you are now in a reality not your own."

"No."

Megatron waited for him to elaborate. Starscream simply looked at the bot in front of him, cataloging every detail, making note of the differences. Colors. Augmentations. He carried no weapons at the moment, at least none that were visible. The heavy armor and armament connectors marked him as a warrior, and Starscream could just make out fresh but treated scorch marks and scuffs on his chest and face. He looked more suited to his current occupation than the other Starscream, although there was still a dissonance, a sense that whatever he'd become was a great weight upon him. His frame spoke of gentleness instead of force, his demeanor of concern instead of anger, his gaze was that of an almost ingenuous interest rather than suspicion and blame.

Maudlin. Saccharine. Ugh.

His presence was heavy, steady, as if it anchored the world. Familiar.

Something's missing. This isn't him.

A weak imitation. A poor reflection.

But if Megatron is the piece of slag he is, wouldn't his opposite be the exemplar of goodness and benevolence?

"I need to get back," Starscream said tentatively. He modulated his voice and tone to be as similar to the other Starscream's as possible. "The experiment went all wrong. I don't know if I can fix this."

The burst of sympathy and vicarious distress from Megatron was immediate. Starscream was sure not even Bumblebee was ever this credulous. "We will do everything we can to help you. Tell me what you need," said Megatron. He leaned forward and was nearly going to hold Starscream's hand. The catastrophe was narrowly avoided via Starscream hugging his knees and pretending he didn't see what Megatron was trying to do.

Starscream didn't trust kindness. But he'd never let kindness go to waste.

---

If he weren't so vexed with -- in his mind -- the very likely possibility of the other Starscream leaving him stranded in this Primus-forsaken universe, Starscream would have laughed at Soundwave.

He couldn't believe he would ever think of ultramarine with red and yellow highlights as classy, but compared to the bright and mostly blank paint-job, his own universe's Soundwave was on the upscale. Deportment played into it most of all -- silent, watchful, ominous became loud, heedless, and flamboyant in that obliviously idiotic way. The voice was exactly the same. As for the cadence and speech pattern -- only analogies can perhaps do this absurdity any ounce of justice -- it was as if Skywarp had quoted Eucryphia, as if Prowl had decided to sing, as if Luna-2 had swallowed the sun and started doing somersaults around Cybertron.

"Dude, that was totally radical," was the first thing Soundwave said to Starscream, in the most excited but also most laid-back way. It took about three more exchanges for Starscream to decode his full lexicon, which really, was mostly "rad", "righteous", and "dude". Starscream had half a mind to either bring this Soundwave back or bring the stuck-up one here.

Except -- there was a slight complication to his designated method of return. According to Buzzsaw's feed, no portal had appeared since Starscream popped into this world.

"You're not going, I'm sorry," said Hook, when Starscream tried to fly off to see for himself. "You were impaled through and through mere cycles ago. Your frame needs time to heal. You'd tear the mends before you're even done transforming."

Quack, Starscream wanted to say. He's won battles with anti-aircraft ammunition fragmented all over his insides. He had been able to transform just fine. Transforming back was another issue, but it could be easily resolved.

"It's your Starscream on the other side, aren't you worried?" Starscream asked, innocently.

"I am. But there is no need for you to risk yourself," Hook insisted.

Who knew a competent medic would be this troublesome.

"You can totally trust my dudes in the field," Soundwave gave a two-finger salute. "We'll be monitoring all day all night and notify you of the tiniest blip."

The only one who was close to being as agitated as Starscream was Megatron. It wasn't obvious, and it didn't seem like the other Decepticons had noticed. He looked composed, as he's always been, and assuasive to those around him. But Starscream knew what a relaxed and assured Megatron is, and what a Megatron faking relaxed and assured looks like. The change had come over him ever since Starscream told him about the other Starscream.

"He wouldn't have just stopped trying," Starscream addressed Megatron. "Something must have happened. An Autobot had gone through the portal."

It was just as likely that the other Starscream had closed the portal on purpose. Starscream remembered the longing in blue optics as they looked upon a city in peace. It was motive enough.

"What would you do if you were there?" Megatron asked.

Make sure Soundwave's lackeys aren't lying or stupid? Probe the spot? See if touching the air would take him back to the place he belongs?

"Another gate needs to be constructed on the other side for the portal to stabilize. I can build that."

"In a night?" The question was rhetorical.

"You said you'd help."

"Crystal City is still contested territory, and closer to Iacon than it is to Darkmount. We need to secure the site first. Any shipment of parts to the region will be susceptible to detection and attack by Autobots. It would be unwise for them to discover the nature of your arrival."

Starscream nearly let his anger and impatience slip. "So you're just going to wait?"

"We plan, meanwhile, before we make any rash moves."

"Can your Starscream afford to wait?"

Megatron looked directly at Starscream, in a way that seemed to penetrate every atom of his being. It wasn't a malicious look, but it was inquisitive to the degree it burned. "Your armor is lightweight and not reinforced. Your weapons are impressively designed, but lacking in firepower. You do not bear any other armaments, nor an insignia."

For a chilling second, Starscream thought he'd been outed. For what specifically, he wasn't sure. His null rays hung in the closet next to the med-bay entrance, and Hook had refused to hand them over until Starscream had been discharged. If he can't fight his way out, he might be able to outrun the Decepticons.

"Am I right to postulate," Megatron said slowly, as if unsure of himself, "that your world is not at war?"

Soundwave made a strange static noise. Hook looked up at Megatron, optics bright. Megatron kept his gaze on Starscream. It wasn't accusatory. He only wanted confirmation.

Starscream considered his options. "It ended almost three years ago," he said with a solemn nod. "I -- We've been trying to rebuild since. But that doesn't mean my Cybertron is safe, not with an armed Autobot among civilians who have never held a gun before or had given up their past as soldiers."

Soundwave managed a "Dude, that's totally…" past his voicebox before he lost his words. Hook leaned heavily against the medical slab. Megatron's helm dipped with gravity. "Then there is more cause to keep the existence of  trans-universe travel and your world secret from the Autobots."

Starscream felt like he'd just taken three steps back.

"Our Starscream is a capable warrior. He will be able to defend himself against a single Autobot and protect the others. For that at least, you do not need to worry," Megatron added gently.

Capable my aft!

Starscream bit back an outburst. "What now? Am I supposed to just -- stay here?"

"That may be the best course of action, until guarantees and securities are in place."

Meanwhile, who's running my planet?

Starscream wondered if he should disclose that part of his job description. It didn't seem like the disclosure would lead anywhere, so he discarded the idea, leaned back into the medical slab, and sulked. Hook tried to give him a pat on the shoulder. Starscream escaped by reaching towards the far side of the slab for a cube of greenish med-grade.

Chapter Text

Bumblebee had a front-seat view of the disaster. For real this time, and not in the usual getting-dragged-along-by-Starscream kind of way.

The bot that tumbled out of the portal could almost have been mistaken for a Constructicon. Green, burly, bulldozer components, and a purple badge. But it wasn't any Constructicon Bumblebee knew of, and the purple badge was that of the face of Primus.

Starscream was hit in the back by 100 tons of flailing bot. His scream was cut short by his face getting slammed into the ground. The green bot, seemingly oblivious of the collateral, struggled up (there was an unpleasant scrunch of light alloy under strain), whipped around, and lunged for the swirling portal -- which decided at that moment to shut the door.

"Scoop?" the good Starscream exclaimed.

Two people responded to the name. The hysterical green bot looked around disoriented, caught the blur of white to his right, and finally spotted the only thing he recognized in this whole new world. He froze, then gaped. His arm flinched --

Starscream caught onto the movement before anyone else. Null ray fire sent Evil Autobot Scoop's weapon askew. The stray shot flew over Good Starscream's head before survival instincts decided that taking cover behind the control consoles would be a nice idea. Evil Scoop's blaster arced in the air and his arm dangled limp at his side.

Bumblebee was the only one who saw the wayward orange blaster jolt in the middle of its fall and transform.

Good Autobot Scoop charged forward and tackled Evil Autobot Scoop into the ground. The universe-bridge shook, lit up, and reinitialized.

What happened next, Bumblebee later reflected glumly, was quite possibly his fault.

Evil Scoop stopped struggling against Good Scoop the moment the portal came into being. He stared up, befuddled and bewildered, then suddenly launched into a new fit. The canons on his chest extended, heated, and in an affront to courtesy spewed forth red hot lead. Scoop's arm flinched back as the liquid made contact with his metal. Evil Scoop broke from the hold and dove for the bridge --

-- he'd forgotten something though, and that something seemed to be rather displeased about it.

The little orange bot that had been Evil Scoop's blaster aimed for the ring -- or maybe he was aiming for Evil Scoop. Forgetting, in the moment and being so close to all that's happening, that he's kind of sort of technically dead and incorporeal, Bumblebee shouted, "Look out!"

The only person who heard him was Starscream. The distraction cost him. He didn't manage to doge the projectile that launched out from behind. The little orange bot punched a perfect hole into the ring of the bridge. The portal wobbled. Something was trying to pull Starscream in. Good Starscream was rushing forward to help. Scoop was just recovering.

There was a sudden, vicious tug on the line extending out of the portal -- Starscream lurched back.

"No!" Bumblebee cried.

He reached out -- his hand passed through Starscream's, and the portal snapped shut.

---

The damage Holepunch did to the bridge ring was fixable. By virtue of the Targetmaster's ability, his destruction was always clean, unburnt, and easy to work with -- scary, since the holes could go through anything -- but fixable.

The damage Scoop -- Starscream's universe's Scoop -- did to the rest of the bridge infrastructure, on the other hand --

Who thought molten lead was ever a good idea for a weapon?

Scoop and Scoop loci were both splattered with the now solidified metal and in different degrees of distress. Scoop was out cold, a big splotch of lead on his chest, Holepunch in gun form stuck to his arm. Scoop loci was burned in several places, but holding up. Most of the lead had landed on the consoles, seeped into delicate equipment, melted the controls, coated the displays, and rendered the whole setup useless.

Starscream was on the verge of a meltdown.

Scoop loci retrieved a cube and held it out for Starscream. "I think you need this, sir."

"Thank you, Scoop," Starscream accepted it shakily. He tried getting the energon into his tank. Despite general system diagnostics telling him he's likely to shut down if he doesn't follow through on the cube, Starscream barely got a few drops in before he gave up.

"So…" said Scoop loci, uneasily. "What do we do now?"

Starscream stared at the incapacitated Scoop lying a few meters away, restrained by whatever they'd been able to find on the site -- that is, bolts and beams and screws.

He sighed. "I suppose I owe you several explanations, don't I?"

Scoop loci shrugged. "Not really."

"You're not -- confused? Curious? Worried?"

"I am, but there are things that I'm not meant to know, and things I'm better off not knowing. If I'm not told something, I assume it's one or the other. Or both. I get things done, and I trust the Chosen One with the big picture."

"The Chosen One?"

"Starscream," said Scoop loci, a tad dejectedly.

"Oh."

Starscream wondered if he would like to go down that petro-rabbit hole, and decided there were more urgent things at hand.

"Here's our current situation," he set the cube down in his lap. "The leader of Cybertron is in another universe -- likely abducted and in danger. The only way to reach him is through this --" Starscream gestured at the tatters of a week's work -- "but fixing everything is going to take time and resource.

"There are three major concerns. One, Starscream's safety. Two, where and how to obtain the resources necessary to fix the bridge. And three, the ongoings of Cybertron in the absence of its president."

As he listed them out, Starscream felt his ember sink ever deeper into despair.

"You don't have to worry about number one," said Scoop loci.

"Why?"

"He's tough to kill. And slippery."

Starscream wasn't the least bit convinced.

"It's legendary. Practically mythical. There's been more confirmed kills on him than Ultra Magnus and he's still fine."

Starscream's Ultra Magnus had only ever been confirmed dead once, and it's stayed that way for years. There's no coming back from what Optimus Prime did. He briefly attempted to surmise what the bar was in this universe.

"My companions should be close by, on the other side. I can only hope they come to Starscream's aid in time. Meanwhile, we have to do our best to get him back. Scoop, are you able to requisition construction material and bridge components?"

"Not to this extent. The only people who could get all of the stuff we worked with are Wheeljack and Starscream himself."

Wheeljack. Why does it have to be Wheeljack?

"Can you reach Wheeljack?" Starscream asked Scoop loci.

"Yeah, but he's not going to just give the things to me. I don't have the authority, or a good reason."

"What was Starscream's reason?"

"Don't know. But it probably isn't what's really going on."

Starscream leaned back into the destroyed console. "I'm guessing Starscream wouldn't want us to reveal to the public that he's unable to conduct his duties due to being stuck in an alternate universe."

"No."

"What about his cabinet? I can tell them and ask for help."

Scoop loci thought for a moment. "Maybe not with Elita-1 around."

"Elita-1? The Elita-1? She's part of the staff running the planet?"

"Yes."

Oh dear. There's making peace and then there's making peace.

Starscream slipped further down into the ground and nearly closed himself into a ball. "What then?"

Scoop loci tapped his arm in thought. "That one there," he tipped his head towards the restrained evil Autobot. "You said he's Scoop."

"Yes."

"He looks and sounds like me too. Somewhat."

Starscream nodded. "He's you, from the other universe."

"Then you are --?"

"I'm Starscream, from the other universe," Starscream smiled dolefully.

"Huh." Scoop loci said. He examined Starscream, up down left right, back again and another round. "Cybertron needs a leader. Why not stand in for him until he comes back?"

Starscream was scandalized. "I can't just steal this world's Starscream's identity and lie to the entirety of Cybertron!"

"It's better than having anyone else take over meanwhile."

A faint beeping caught his attention. "It's a comm call. From the transport," said Scoop loci, turning towards the shuttle Starscream had came in along with the cargo.

"Should we…answer?"

"It's probably for the boss."

"It's important then?"

Scoop loci shrugged. Then nodded.

The beeping stopped. A few seconds later, it started again. Starscream rose, exchanged a hesitant look with Scoop loci, and opened the pilot side of the transport.

Incoming: Windblade, said the screen.

He received the call.

"Hello?"

"Where have you been and what in the name of Solus are you doing?"

Starscream recognized the voice from his first hour in this universe. The one on the other side of the office door.

"I've been trying to get to you for the past hour. Your comms' dead."

"Is something wrong?" Starscream said meekly.

The caller -- Windblade, presumably -- suddenly fell silent. "…Starscream?"

On instinct, Starscream answered, "Yes?" He nearly kicked himself for it.

"You sound off. Is everything alright?"

No. Everything's gone horribly wrong. I lost your Starscream and now I don't know what to do.

Starscream reset his voice box and adjusted his tone and register. "Fine. Sort of. What's the emergency?"

"You missed the press conference -- I already covered that, but it wasn't like your absence wasn't noticed. And then you were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago for the Earth trade talks. The delegates have all been waiting. You have to realize tardiness doesn't inspire confidence, and right now we need every bit of confidence we can get."

The truth choked midway up Starscream's throat and was promptly shoved down. "Sorry. I'll be there as fast as I can."

"How fast is that?"

"Um, about a cycle?"

Windblade sighed. "How about I just connect you to the conference? We can't wait any longer."

Starscream felt the energon in his lines freeze even as he said, in a voice so even that it was more stilted than a steel beam, "Okay."

"Hold on. Do you have visual?"

Starscream previewed his hologram. Color aside, he could just pass for this world's Starscream.

"Yes."

"Good."

There was a click. A buzz. And finally, "We're on, Starscream," said Windblade's hologram. "Present today are Representative Marissa Faireborn, experts from Earth's United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, the United States Secretary of Energy, the National Energy Commission of……"

Starscream dipped his head to each and every one of the alien lifeforms introduced and wished he could disappear down a hole.

Chapter Text

Starscream pretended to be in recharge. He suspected he actually needed the system downtime, but his mind raced and the silence was disquieting. He waited until he was sure he was alone. He slipped off the vital monitors and quietly snuck to the door.

The Decepticons hadn't bothered to lock anything. Retrieving his weapons was a simple matter of picking them up. The med-bay door opened with a hiss. Starscream stood still, waiting for a reaction. Nobody came. Nothing stirred.

He stuck close to the wall and attempted to locate the exit to the base. He wasn't sure what he'd do afterwards -- check out the portal location and realize there's nothing he can do without all the metal, equipment, and energy needed for a bridge? It was better than being confined to bedrest and told to stay put.

A strip of light along the floor guided him to his destination. It wasn't a hanger, as he'd hoped, but a plain gate will do as long as it leads him outside. The place was getting to be suffocating. He pressed the panel next to the door. Nothing happened.

"You'll need a code for that."

Starscream yelped, swerved around, and fired. The bolts lit up Megatron's face for a brief second. One hit his shoulder. It barely left a mark.

[Weapons set to power saving. Energy diverted to self repair.] His system informed him belatedly.

Frag.

"Sorry I startled you," was Megatron's greeting.

You didn't.

Megatron shifted his shoulder stiffly. "Interesting weapon. My gyros and circuit relays have been disrupted." He smiled. "A non-lethal, yet effective offense."

It's not supposed to do that you dolt, Starscream thought in frustration.

"Were you spying on me?" he said, with a little more hostility than he had preferred to let through.

"No. I had a few things on my mind. Walking tends to help me sort through most of them. Then I saw you. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I want to go out for air."

"Just air?"

"Are you going to stop me?"

"No." Megatron stepped forward and tapped something into the access panel. Starscream suddenly found himself too close to the white chassis. The gates behind him opened. A rush of air poured into the base, drowning out the sound of his fans. Starscream stumbled outside all too gratefully.

"You are your own bot. I hope to convince you once again that you are a guest and we host you with the best of intentions. Should you wish to leave, that is your choice. But I am obligated to inform you there are dangers out there, and advise you, with support from medically trained professionals, that you are likely unfit for long-distance flight in your current condition."

"I'm more resilient than I look," said Starscream. He fired his thrusters, lifted off from the ground, and transformed.

It hurt like slag.

He lost altitude. Feeling more embarrassed than alarmed, Starscream turned to a nosedive, pulled himself up inches from the ground, did a barrel roll, and righted himself. He saw Megatron transform and fly up beside him.

"Impressive," Megatron commented.

Starscream tried to pull ahead and found he couldn't. The strain elicited another shudder of pain. He attempted to hide it by banking away from Megatron. The large cruiser with opalescent wings closed the gap with an air of serenity.

"You don't have to follow me."

"I'm not. I happen to be going the same way."

Some things are constant across universes, eh -- planet-devastating war, Decepticons versus Autobots, Megatron being a pain in the aft.

And Starscream still somehow ends up as his second-in-command.

---

"A little to starboard," Megatron reminded gently.

"I know," Starscream had to say. He didn't know. His navigation system had been fritzing in intervals since he arrived in this universe.

Flying low, he recognized parts of the terrain, and even in the dark of night saw the visible marks of the recent battle. He returned to root form and met the ground on one knee. Standing up, with the guise of pride and showy dramaticism -- felt as if his frame would tear apart from the wound in his side. Megatron landed by his left, surprisingly graceful for a heavy grounder never intended for flight.

A shadow darted out from its hiding place among the ruins of Crystal City, and even though Starscream expected to see it here the sudden appearance forced an embarrassing eek from his vocalizer.

"It's okay. It's just Buzzsaw," Megatron assured him as Soundwave's little cassette perched on his raised arm.

"I know," Starscream tried to claim, but the sentence was deflating even as it left his mouth.

"III I II IIII III," said Buzzsaw.

Starscream wondered if he was meant to understand that, and was rather annoyed that he didn't.

Megatron looked around. "Where's Divebomb?"

"IIIII III IIIII I IIII."

"Best not to disturb him then. What has been going on?"

"III IIII I."

"I see." He turned to Starscream. "Buzzsaw reports nothing of particular note since he was stationed here. Would you like to make your own observations?"

Now that Starscream had arrive at where he insisted to be just hours ago, it felt rather silly. There was no portal, no anomaly, no breach in reality or a trace of it. Empty rubble and empty air. He passed his hand through whence he'd came. Nothing. Anger was beginning to boil in him, and if it weren't for the presence of two goody Decepticons he would have called deceit and betrayal and promised vengeance.

Megatron seemed to have sensed the shift in Starscream's mood. "We can wait awhile," he said.

"What use would that be?"

"Starscreams are smart and resourceful. With two of them, eventually they will figure something out, no matter the obstacles. It is only a matter of time."

Starscream let out something that was partway snigger and partway scoff and not at all intentional.

"No need to be humble," Megatron said with a hint of tease.

"Sure," said Starscream, "but do you really think that?"

"Of course. There are no comparable minds on Cybertron, and few have a determination to match."

"Alright," Starscream tilted his helm and scrutinized Megatron, "so you'd say, no goodwill or protective feelings intended, as a statement of fact, that a Starscream is more intelligent, knowledgeable, capable, creative, and in all respects better than a Megatron?"

"Unconditionally."

"Even in leadership?"

Megatron hesitated, but there was a playfulness to his contemplation. "He would be, without a Megatron."

"Aaannnd Starscream is just a useful subordinate," Starscream threw up his hands in a show of disdain.

"No, I do not mean that at all. I intend to convey that my Starscream is much more effective as a leader without my presence." Megatron's expression was fond, with a tinge of rue. It was a lot more disconcerting than the constant gentle smile, but Starscream was getting used to such things. "He defers to my counsel and cedes command every time I appear. He doubts his decisions and seeks my confirmation on matters he would have been able to execute optimally and with the utmost efficiency. But --" he looked pointedly at Starscream -- "that is not you."

For the second time that night, Starscream had the sparkbeat-skipping sensation that he was being found out.

"I appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness," Megatron went on. "These are not questions I would have heard from my Starscream, but should he forego his inhibitions he would have likely asked. He is self-conscious of my opinion of him, even though I have asserted time and time again that my opinions do not matter, and that I regard him highly."

Starscream had promised himself he wouldn't fall for it again. For false praise and tactics of manipulation.

You are skilled, powerful, and -- Starscream shut down the recollection. He had believed then, and regretted. Indignations, buried deep, now resurfaced as warnings.

But this time it's different, isn't it? A different place and a different Megatron who would demand nothing in return for a few compliments.

I regard him highly. These words were not even for him.

Starscream was opposed to such tender and soppy displays on principle. He had been taught that plaudits are only worthy when bestowed in the aftermath of victory, when the enemy's destruction is evident by scorched earth and rivers of blood, when the price of battle is etched deep into his frame. Anything less would be empty and meaningless. And for a long, long time, he took it to spark. Praise would not be so easily earned.

So why did he ask --

"What am I then?"

-- just to hear more?

Starscream blamed his injury and the roaring nervous system feedback for his currently deteriorating mental faculty.

Megatron hummed softly. "Bold, assertive, and self-assured. I admire your character, and there is certainly more of it I am looking forward to know."

To have that voice utter admire in reference to Starscream -- No, not Starscream, not really. It was in reference to a façade, constructed from half-truths and unfounded assumptions.

Yet…. So what if he's a pretense. So what if these are inane and undeserved commendations. Why shouldn't he accept a hanging fruit, knowing it satiates a hollow hunger deep within his being? Primus knows the universe owns Starscream some good words, at the very least.

He looked at Megatron, searching for a sign to doubt his compliments, a shadow of sarcasm, the hint of insincerity, knowing -- wanting -- there to be none.

In that moment, the desire to go back became the last thing on Starscream's mind.

The horizon was growing lighter by the minute. A grayish hue was cast over the plain of rubble. There was a calm familiarity to the ruins and wreckage, devoid of life and complexity.

"It was a waste coming here, wasn't it?" Starscream thought out loud.

"II IIII III I III II," Buzzsaw sounded happily.

"Buzzsaw wants you to know he appreciates the visit," Megatron explained.

"How nice."

"II III IIII I."

Megatron let Buzzsaw flitter off his arm. "Would you like to head back?"

"Yeah," said Starscream. He took two steps forward -- and fell on his face.

Chapter Text

They both got an audial-full from Hook.

Megatron, for all his bulk and authority, was a diminished mess of guilt and worry, head bowed and silent as Hook animatedly lectured him.

Starscream had received the lighter treatment, mostly because he was half passed-out when he was teleported into the med-bay, energy low and getting lower as his weld tore.

"He's gonna die he's gonna die he's gonna die…" Skywarp wouldn't stop muttering when he brought Starscream to Hook. Starscream had tried to tell him to shut up multiple times, but he didn't think he was heard. Another layer of weld and some weirdly-colored med-grade later, Starscream was feeling fine and alert enough to enjoy the show. Skywarp was on the medical slab over, an energon rod in his hand, shaking and very much regretting answering Megatron's call.

Seriously, have these bozos ever seem a real battle?

"Your energy levels aren't rising as fast as they should," Scrapper said when he checked Starscream's vitals. He glanced at the half-finished med-grade Starscream was pretending to intake via osmosis.

"I don't like the taste," Starscream confessed bluntly.

"It's not that…medical grade energon is designed for optimal absorption. Even with the amount you've drank I should be seeing better numbers." He tapped his stylus on his chin. "It might be your physiology. I'll have Mixmaster run analysis on your internal energon sample and construct another concoction."

A very, very pertinent worry occurred to Starscream. "I'm not getting poisoned am I?"

Scrapper thought for an unsettlingly long moment. "No…" he finally muttered. "Energon shouldn't be harmful to you. Or your energon to our Starscream in the other reality. It's mostly that you're getting much less out of it than what we normally would. Still, I would caution against ingesting anything from lithium to radium. Just stick to the med-grade for now. We'll do our best to take care of you."

Starscream shuddered involuntarily.

"Are you cold?" Scrapper asked, concerned.

"No, it's nothing." Decepticon sincerity is still something to acclimate to.

"Don't you say it's nothing," Hook turned his attention away from Megatron and zeroed in on Starscream. "I've had enough of you telling my bots 'it's nothing' and then going into stasis who knows where."

"It was just one time," Starscream argued indignantly. "Just now."

Hook waved his hand. "Different Starscream, same habits."

"That's not fair."

"Preventative measures are more efficient than corrective measures. Fair is when you stop hiding your problems and keep us on the same page. We're supposed to help you so don't you worry about inconveniencing us. Let us help. It's a lot less stress-inducing for my staff and everyone who cares about you," Hook gestured at Skywarp.

"I think I'm better now," said Skywarp.

"Okay then," Starscream started slowly, "The thermostat is fixed at a static setpoint which does not account for my frame's temperature change as it undergoes different stages of repair. The medical slab is too flat and the monitors barely leave any room for my wings to move. The ceiling is too low, too many people are packed in here, and it's stuffy and noisy. I don't like it when it's too quiet though. The weld makes my movements stiff and it's really uncomfortable. The energon has a weird aftertaste. I'm hungry but I don't have an appetite right now. I'm tired but I can't go into recharge. I want to fly but I also don't feel like it. I'm bored sitting here but I can't concentrate on anything. I don't like how my paint is still scratched and my polish is ruined."

"Good," Hook nodded. "Isn't it better to voice your needs?"

"What's the point if you can't solve them all?"

---

The point, Hook explained, is that you solve what you can and work on the rest. Together.

Which Starscream considered to be extremely stupid and redundant. But hey, he did get a ward to himself, a much wider recharge slab, slightly better tasting energon (it was absolutely bland), and the promise of a cosmetic touch-up. So Starscream took note that it was a valid strategy, to some extent, to get what you want.

The walls weren't completely soundproof, but there wasn't much to listen to. Darkmount lay quiet in wait of morning, save for the small noises of the base systems. It wasn't so bad having Decepticons who are respectful of other bots' rest hours.

Is he…liking it here?

Starscream paused his stylus, the universe-bridge blueprint half-finished on the screen set against his knees. It doesn't really matter, does it -- how he feels about the place if there is no choice of going back to his Cybertron. He was sure he could recall every detail of the bridge and construct it himself if need be, but energy source was a problem. This side of Crystal City wasn't in the tradition of housing singularities, and the local Shockwave, in all likeliness, would be a well-adjusted emotionally-stable sap who knows as much about physics as Starscream's own Shockwave can smile.

Staying around for a few more days shouldn't hurt though. No pesky reporters to fake composure for, no presumptuous meat-bags to haggle with. Windblade will get inundated with paperwork, Ratbat will have to find someone else to spy on, and Elita-1 can eat a combiner fist if she tries anything.

Oh, who's he kidding. Cybertron will probably be in flames when he gets back, if not from administrative collapse or a Carcerian insurgency, then from one of the ceaseless catastrophes Primus gets such a kick out of raining down on his city. They wouldn't last two days without him.

And frankly, right now, Starscream didn't care. A break from it all, just to show how indispensable he is. And when he gets back -- he'll finally earn the appreciation deserves. For the headaches and frustration, for the missed energon cubes and recharge, for the curses and scorn behind his back.

He set the blueprint and stylus on the end table. Drowsiness was setting in, and as Starscream gave in to long-needed rest, he briefly wondered about the misplaced bot in his place. He tried to imagine the other Starscream deliberately destroying the portal apparatus and claiming his seat of office. It was like willing a marshmallow to become pure titanium. Maybe, he posited begrudgingly, reluctant to walk back on his previous paranoia, there was trouble with the evil Autobot. To strap artillery on a mech and call him warrior -- it was laughable. He'd be lucky to find the other Starscream and Scoop's intact corpses when he returns.

Chapter Text

The Earth representatives looked happy. Windblade looked happy. Starscream hoped it meant he hadn't doomed the planet to centuries of deprivation and suffering.

Coming off of the conference call, he set his helm on the pilot dashboard and tried not to drown in complete despair. He had a broken machine to fix. He had two dangerous Autobots to secure. He had a missing world leader to find.

What would Megatron do?

Megatron wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place. He would've been more careful, and he would've subdued the Autobots before any extensive damage was done.

Okay. So upon seeing Starscream's mess, what would Megatron do?

He would have ensured the safety and well-being of all bots in the vicinity first. That means dealing with the Autobots.

Starscream dragged himself up. His entire frame protested. "Scoop?"

Scoop peaked into the vehicle. "Yes sir?"

"What's the force responsible for public security here?"

"What kind of public security do you need?"

Starscream frowned. "Any kind, I guess? Why would there be a difference?"

"If you want open and above board you get the Cybertronian Security Force. If it's more discreet there's the Badgeless. Of course they're all CSF and the Badgeless technically shouldn't exist anymore, but if you need something done a certain way they're available."

Starscream's fuel-deprived and taxed systems really weren't up for an answer more complicated than, Here's who to call. "Just the normal kind please," he said, his voice barely making it out of his vocalizer.

"That'll be Ironhide's side of the CSF."

Starscream felt his frame go cold as if twenty gallons of coolant had been dumped on him. Then he remembered. It's peace time. Decepticons and Autobots are getting along together. Even when these Autobots were once cold-blooded murderers and sadists who pinned Starscream to the window of Prime's warship and forced his optics on the massacre of innocent thousands.

But this universe had a different history, and Crystal City did not meet its end the same way. Starscream took a shuddering in-vent, then ex-vent. "Scoop, could you please get the, uh, CSF on the line and tell them to escort two dangerous individuals present at this location to containment?"

"Sure. If someone asks who they are where they came from and what happened, what should I say?"

Right. There's that problem. Starscream buried his head in his arms and thought. The possibilities -- the power of traversing multiverses are immense. One could call armies never before seen on this plane of existence, conjure resources once thought depleted, invade and conquer defenseless realities…… Peace is fragile, and Starscream couldn't bring himself to trust Autobots, least of all Ironhide, to not shatter it for the sake of chaos and power.

"Anything," Starscream replied, "other than that they're from a different universe. It's best if this information is kept confidential for now." He lifted his head and sighed. "Change of plans. We'll bring them to the outskirts of Iacon and meet the CSF there."

Scoop looked at him with a surfacing concern. Starscream understood. "They won't recognize me as this world's Starscream, will they?"

"Some would suspect the resemblance, but the bigger matter is that, with all due respect sir, you would appear as a stranger without an ID. I can report the case, but you'll be questioned as well if you're there too."

Starscream's head fell on the dashboard again. "Of course. Normal police procedure. I'd forgotten how that goes." And with remembering that fact of time-without-war, more problems arose. Starscream groaned. "I'll have to lie to them or risk the truth."

"They probably won't believe all this universe-bridging thing," said Scoop.

"Then I'd be a liar either way or called mad."

For a moment unfathomable to Scoop, Starscream brightened slightly. "So would the Autobots when they get questioned. This is to our advantage. Scoop, I can do the handover alone. If we do get in trouble with the CSF over this, it'll just be me. Help me load the Autobots into the back of the transport."

Scoop hesitated. "Well sir, you don't necessarily have to go through that."

"Go through what?"

"The whole police business. You're the supreme authority on Cybertron."

"But I'm not."

"Sir, you just attended a five-hour conference deliberating the future of this planet in the name of Starscream, Head of the Council of Worlds and High Chancellor of the Refulgent Cybertronian Dynasty."

Starscream grimaced. "It was an emergency," he refuted softly.

"So is every second when the leader of Cybertron is missing."

Starscream shook his head desperately.

"Please," Scoop said, so adamant and sincere it made Starscream's ember quiver. "Cybertron needs you. You're the Chosen One."

Without wanting to outright suggest that Scoop was crazy (a task more suited for the tact of a certified psychiatrist like Bombshell), Starscream attempted to dissuade the plan on the table via other angles.

"Even if I do claim to be this world's Starscream, I can't command the CSF to not do their job. Laws and due process apply to everyone."

Scoop gave him a strange look.

"…Don't they?"

---

It all made sense now, thought Scoop.

Before him, Starscream fumbled with the device on his wrist that he had assembled impromptu out of components from cloaking devices set around the perimeter of the bridge construction site. The color of his frame changed as he adjusted the settings.

Scoop could barely keep in his ecstasy.

Divine proclamation was right. Starscream was Cybertron's savior. But the proclamation had come too early, when the real Chosen One had yet to arrive. In his stead the titan had given title unto an inferior version of the prophet, the anti-savior that served his own dark purposes, whom Scoop had been compelled to obey out of duty to his faith despite the dissonance between malignant orders and his own sense of right and wrong.

Here, at last, was a being that embodied selflessness and virtue, a being with the capability and pure intent to make the world whole again, a being who --

-- suddenly disappeared.

Scoop jumped.

"Sorry! I was experimenting with full cloaking," Starscream's voice came out of thin air. Upon closer examination, Scoop noticed strange refractions of light in the space Starscream had occupied, and with that he was able to define the clear outline of a flyer. It was as if Starscream had turned into crystal-clear glass.

"It's flawed, but it should be able to convince unsuspecting parties," said Starscream. "Really, I'd rather go like this."

Scoop opened his mouth to reinitiate the argument. "I know, I know," Starscream sighed as he reappeared, now in distinct red, white, and blue.

"Your optics, sir," Scoop reminded.

"Oh right. Thank you."

There was a flicker over Starscream's face, and the perfect Chosen One stood in all his divine glory.

"The cloaking should be okay as long as no one gets too close," said Starscream. "I still have my reservations, but since we've come to the conclusion that this is the best course of action -- let's go meet the Badgeless."

Scoop supposed he owed some thanks to the false prophet. It was he who had, after all, amassed the power and established the might of arms that would allow the true Savior to mold Cybertron to his benevolent will.

Chapter Text

Starscream had given orders before. Of course he had. He's the Decepticon SIC and a battle commander who's led charges against some of the Autobots' worst offences.

But Starscream doesn't really like to call them orders. They're more of….very urgent and resolute suggestions based on the best of his judgements as supported by thorough analysis given the limited time and data at hand. The "resolute" part isn't compulsory. He's open to alternative perspectives and ideas.

A command is a decision that governs lives beyond his own. Starscream has always treated his commands with the gravity and consideration they deserve -- making the wrong call would hurt everyone he cared about. Everyone who trusted him.

Megatron told Starscream that sometimes not making the call at all could just as easily lead to disaster and tragedy.

"There's a reason they ask for your guidance," he had said. And looking up at Megatron, Starscream understood.

After that, Starscream thought he'd made some significant progress towards being self-assured and decisive in leadership.

Coming up to four armed mechs in uniform armor, stoically awaiting instructions behind featureless masks was enough to shake his belief in this progress. To give an order to a complete stranger was…perturbing. The guilt of impersonating this universe's Starscream was very much not helping.

Hold on, five, Starscream revised his count as Swoop brought their transport to a land. The last mech, out of uniform, had blended well into the dark Iacon outskirts. There was something distinctly familiar about his frame. Posture exemplary, the dual cannons on his back intimidating, expression hidden by a mask, a sharp gleam in his visors that could cut steel. Clearly the captain of the group, at a curt gesture from the singular bot, the Badgeless lined up on either side of the transport.

Starscream slowly opened the door, hoping his legs would carry him a few steps more.

"Evening, sir," the captain saluted while his bots followed suit. His voice softened. "I'm relieved to see you are well."

Recognition hit Starscream like a tidal wave.

"Onslaught?"

"Yes, sir?"

Colors and slight variations in frame aside, it was the same voice, same tone. Starscream nearly threw himself forward to deliver a hug. "It is incredibly good to see you as well!"

"I'm, uh, glad to hear that."

How are you? What are you doing here? What's life like for you in this world? How are the Combaticons doing? Questions ran giddy, prohibited from release. A full minute of silence passed between them before Starscream realized Onslaught was waiting for an order.

"Oh, right! The, um, malefactors are situated in the cargo compartment." The reality of his current situation overtook all joy and consolation of seeing Onslaught. "Please escort them to…the facility wherein nefarious bots are kept."

Starscream clutched his wrist to prevent himself from facepalming fifty times over.

"Of course," Onslaught nodded. He made a sign at the Badgeless, who moved in on the back of the transport with cutting efficiency. The vehicle rocked. Noise of metal on metal. There was a cry from Evil Scoop. Starscream flinched when a dull thud silenced the commotion. Onslaught said something.

"Pardon?" Starscream's attention jerked back to his Decepticon companion -- who, by the lack of a badge, didn't appear to be affiliated with the Decepticons anymore, like Starscream loci. It saddened and gladdened Starscream at the same time. As noble as they were, the Decepticons were an instrument of war, and dissolution meant the end of the whole prolonged, violent conflict.

"I know it's not my place to ask," Onslaught shifted his posture, marginally more amiable than intimidating now, "but when it concerns your security and well-being, I feel that it's my duty to know. So if I may be so blunt as to inquire, as much as you can divulge, who are they, what have they done, and where did they come from?"

"Oh," Starscream felt his frame heat up -- how's it even possible? He's practically melting. "They're…malcontents? I think? With specialized weaponry. And extremely volatile."

Frenzy was wrong. Omission is not easier than outright lies.

The Badgeless emerged from the back of the transport, an unconscious and lead-stuck Evil Scoop between them. Holepunch, still in gun form, had a new accessory. Starscream jumped at the chance to drop the current subject.

"Please don't be too rough on them," he called out, and noticing his voice had gone meek, reset his vocalizer to add, "I would appreciate it if you could untangle them and provide proper treatment for their injuries."

The Badgeless nodded in acknowledgement. Onslaught gave Starscream a strange look that didn't quite border on suspicion just yet.

"Thank you for answering the call," Starscream said, suddenly eager for goodbyes, "especially so late into the night. I know it's rather unconventional and almost certainly inappropriate, but I assure you what you are doing works towards keeping Cybertron safe, at least for the moment until I can conjure a more permanent solution to the entire predicament --"

Onslaught looked like he wanted to interject. Starscream barreled on.

"-- I cannot express how relieved I am to know you are handling this, and while it may seem like I am withholding crucial details concerning the matter for obscured reasons, I would like you to know that you have my full confidence and I appreciate your presence greatly. In time, I, or -- well, still me, I guess, will explain everything, but for now, please be content with my current response, and do rest well after this errand. It's -- it's late."

Starscream leaned against the transport to keep himself from collapsing towards the end of his speech. He was sure Onslaught noticed.

"Of course, sir."

Starscream managed a smile, even though he didn't feel much like it.

A few kliks later, as they watched the Badgeless transport depart, Scoop asked, "Where to next, sir?"

"A medic," Starscream groaned, his head on the dashboard. His optics landed on the lead burns across Scoop's side. "You and I both need one."

---

"Your energon levels are low enough to put you into stasis, your temperature is high enough to put you into stasis twice over, you're missing about a week's worth of recharge, and even though you look fine my scanners tell me you're somewhat banged up. So just to clarify, you would like me to leave you in the clinic by yourself until morning."

"Yes, please?" Starscream squeaked.

"Alright," said the doctor. "Scanners are built into the bed, most functions can be accessed through the control panels, you can pull tools and instruments from the cabinet on the right, the left wall is all files and samples so don't bother opening them, energon and coolant are stored in the back, everything is clearly labeled, call me if you need something, otherwise I'll assume the usual."

"Thank you --" oh dear, he should know the doctor's name, shouldn't he? Would it be dubious to appear to have forgotten it? "Apologies for waking you."

"Who am I to not immediately make myself available for the medical needs of the Emperor Perpetua? I will be going back into recharge though, until you ring me up again. Is there anything else before I go?"

"I was thinking about Scoop…"

"The night shift staff will take care of it. Neither his condition nor status requires my attention."

"Oh. Okay."

"You still look like you're expecting something from me."

Starscream averted the apathetic gaze directed flatly at him. "I suppose I was expecting questions."

A sliver of emotion seeped onto the doctor's masked face. "Questions?"

"Yes, uh -- this is all highly unusual and I would not be surprised at nor reject any questions you may have regarding the how, where, what, why's and even who's of the situation, although I may not be at liberty to disclose the full story at the present moment."

The doctor stared at Starscream, looked down at his scanner, brushed a hand over his optics, and sighed. "Starscream, it's probably a slowly liquefying brain module doing the talking for you, so -- In the couple of millions years I've known you this is nothing unusual by your standards, and even when things are beyond that disturbing realm it never did me good to ask any questions. Your lies don't help me help you, and the truth is horrifically inconducive to both my physical and mental well-being. All to say -- no, I don't want to know anything more than what's required for the task assigned to me."

"I…see."

"But for the sake of -- whatever it is you find convenient to believe in right now," the doctor added when he was halfway out the door, "I sincerely implore you to take better care of yourself. The war is over. I should be seeing you much less often, preferably not at all."

Starscream lay in the quiet of the clinic. Something nagged at him, but he decided to leave further pondering to a future Starscream. He disabled his cloaking and dimmed the lights. Control panels and monitors lit up his white armor in a familiar cold blue.

Take better care of myself, Starscream thought as he tapped commands for auto-diagnosis and repairs. He wished doctors' orders weren't always so hard to follow. Really, he's tried, but circumstances often go against the judgment of medical professionals attending to him.

Starscream's optics fell on the freshly healed wound at the base of his thruster.

Although…it might just be slightly more doable, with the two of him.

---

Starscream had planned to wake up at the break of dawn. By his calculations it would be enough recharge to tide him over for another whole week. The ebullient sunlight pouring into the clinic indicated his alarm had irredeemably failed him.

A rapid series of knocks emanated from the other side of the clinic door. "Starscream? Are you still alive in there?"

It wasn't the doctor, but he knew the voice. His head, still sharp and hollow from a panicked boot-up, struggled to match it with a name and accompanying data.

"I'm going in," said the voice on the other side of the door.

"Wait!"

The knocking stopped. "Solus help me -- How long do you need?"

"Uh…" Starscream rapidly flicked through his cloaking settings while tripping himself to a mirror. "3 kliks, please."

Armor, face, wings, and don't forget the optics. Good. He took a deep in-vent, marched to the door, and palmed it open.

Windblade stood on the other side, a complicated mix of emotions shifting behind her optics. She looked much more vibrant in person, and slightly shorter than Starscream had expected. Scoop and the doctor crowded behind her.

Starscream had the uneasy feeling that he had done something wrong. "I'm sorry."

Windblade frowned. "For what?"

"For, ah, keeping you waiting."

"That's all?"

Starscream stammered a slew of consternated silence.

"Delegate, if you don't mind," Scoop attempted to move past Windblade's wing, "I think it's better if we let the High Chancellor rest before returning to the usual state of affairs."

Windblade's wing was obstinate. "The concern is noted, Scoop," she said with a tired backwards glance before turning determined blue optics on Starscream again, "but I wouldn't be here if it's not urgent. We've been missing you for nearly two whole days. You have diplomatic communications to follow up, a treaty to ratify, infrastructure projects to oversee, budget plans that you have to stop procrastinating on, and a backlog of trials and cases. Starscream, you're running the planet, you can't just up and decide to go on an impromptu holiday."

"I…understand," Starscream murmured.

Windblade let the silence of guilt and unmet expectations work their weight on an already heavy atmosphere. Then her expression softened, just slightly. "Are you okay though? You're not looking your best. Did you undergo another frame change?"

Her hand swept forward and brushed -- very nearly -- against Starscream's forearm. Starscream felt an icy jolt shoot up his spine as he flinched away, so close to disastrously breaking his disguise. His processor scrambled in panic to conjure an excuse for the behavior -- if the cloaking flicker didn't tip Windblade off that something was wrong, this very likely will.

Except Windblade had stepped back too, her hand hung in the air like it had committed some ignominious offense. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"It's, uh, it's nothing. And I'm fine to return to where I'm needed."

The doctor frowned behind Windblade. Starscream assured him with a tiny apologetic nod.

"Let's take this to your office then," Windblade stepped aside, clearing the doorway. "Are you good to fly?"

"Yes."

The doctor's frown deepened.

"Sir," Scoop chimed in, "shall I accompany you?"

Starscream hesitated. Windblade looked like she wasn't partial to the idea. Scoop himself still looked a bit banged up.

"It's alright, Scoop," he said. "Rest easy for now. I'll check in with you when I'm done."

Scoop wasn't entirely convinced, but conceited, more out of duty than reason.

Chapter Text

For all the worry and stress Starscream put them through with his disappearing stunt, Windblade didn't expect an apology or an explanation. He probably wouldn't even acknowledge the whole fiasco, unless it was to point out the ways everyone so helpfully screwed up in his absence. Windblade, as always, was willing to be the bigger person for whatever petty display Starscream would put on, be it denying he forgot to prepare for what was possibly the most important negotiation of the year, or self-aggrandizingly taking every ounce of credit for it.

Windblade had been talking the entire duration of their flight, and it wasn't until they landed that she finally realized what the incredibly odd thing that had been bothering her was.

"You haven't interrupted me once," she said to Starscream.

Starscream stared back at her confused. "Why would I?"

"No comments? Complaints? Quips? Rebukes?"

"Of course not. You were elucidating the situation quite well. And I thought it best to reserve my questions until you finished."

Windblade considered the very real possibility that cordiality is Starscream's new game, and the slightly less likely possibility that he's being genuine. She chose the latter.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?"

"For being not so hard to work with."

Starscream seemed absolutely befuddled. Windblade hoped he wouldn't decide to be contrary because of the comment.

Rattrap must've had optics to the sky -- he bounded over before they set foot into the admin hall. "Boss!"

Starscream looked around, then jumped when he spotted Rattrap a few feet below eye-level. "Oh! Hello."

"Where've ya been Boss? I've been tryin' ta keep the press bots off my back all day, rumors been spreading. And ya schedule's stacked, I pushed everythin' back as much as I can but it ain't holdin' for long. Then we got word you're spotted at the hospital --"

He stopped short, noticing Starscream's demeanor. Windblade judged it to be something between hostile suspicion and….well, she would've called it embarrassment if Starscream possessed any shame, but since she had long concluded that he doesn't, it's the expression he has when he's hiding something that he can't really hide anymore.

Rattrap opted for the truculent read just to be safe. He shrunk back. "Anyhow, I'll let ya get on with it. I'll be around if ya need me."

"Uh, thank you…" said Starscream.

"The Council meeting's in another 2 hours, right? We'll be there after finishing up with the Earth treaty. Thanks a lot, Rattrap," Windblade waved back as she led Starscream towards the elevator.

Hold on.

Why is she leading Starscream? How is Starscream letting her take the lead?

Rattrap's response blew past her audials.

The elevator doors closed. Windblade kept just outside of what she'd come to learn was Starscream's personal bubble. She decided to pry, but before her question came out, Starscream said, "You're an Autobot."

Windblade's mind went blank. A part of her felt like laughing at so obvious a statement, a part of her is exasperated, and one tiny part wants her to find a way out of the ascending metal box ASAP. "We're not getting started on that again, are we?" she eventually said.

"I don't mean to provoke," Starscream contended quickly. "It's just -- you're a really different Autobot."

"I know you think an essential part of being an Autobot is constantly undermining and wanting to kill you," Windblade began slowly, "on top of millions of years of war and the acts committed therein. But I joined for their original creed. The Autobots are far from perfect, but the sanctity of life, and freedom as the right of all sentient beings -- that's something worth upholding with all my spark."

Starscream looked disbelieving.

"The Decepticons fought for similar things, if you think about it," Windblade went on. "At least, from what I know of your history. I can't say my sources were wholly unbiased. You helped me understand it better, though. And I'd like to understand more, if you'd let me. It's likely arrogant of me to think -- well, that I can change things for the better by bringing a new perspective, but there is much Cybertron can learn from Caminus and the other colonies, as Caminus can learn from its homeworld. We can't erase a past of enmity and war, but we can help you remember what peace is, and rebuild it."

The elevator doors opened. Windblade stepped out. It took her a few seconds to realize Starscream hadn't moved. She turned back. "Starscream? Are you okay?"

Starscream's optics flickered back into focus. "Yes, sorry." He walked after Windblade. "I was thinking."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Pardon?"

"You're not quite yourself. I have to suspect something happened during your disappearance."

Starscream put on an act of flustering denial. He was only too happy to divert Windblade's attention when they reached his office. He fumbled around for a bit with the door, waved his hand in front of it, tapped at the access panel, stared at it. The door remained unmoving.

"Don't you have biometric sensors? This usually opens when you walk close, doesn't it?" Windblade peeked over Starscream's wing.

"I assume that's how it should work," Starscream tapped something into the access panel again. The screen informed him [BIOMETRICS UNAVAILABLE. PLEASE ENTER ACCESS CODE.]

"Just use the password then," Windblade suggested helpfully.

Starscream stiffened. He entered a string of characters. The panel flashed red. He tried another combination. The panel flashed again and stayed red.

"Starscream?" Windblade said carefully.

"Yes?"

"Did you lock yourself out of your office?"

---

Windblade had the rare privilege of seeing Starscream admit to a mistake. And a rather mundane one at that.

After conceding temporary defeat to the panel screen, Starscream pried the panel open, zapped a few things and pulled out a couple wires, then plugged two cables from his arm into the gutted electronics.

"This is going to take me three cycles to break at least," he sighed.

Windblade was trying very hard not to think about how funny the whole situation was. "Don't you have contingencies?"

"Not that I'm aware."

"It doesn't look like you can get it done before the next meeting."

"I can set up a computer in my stead, but it's going to process slower." Starscream pulled out a small box, connected it to the panel, and started -- Windblade assumed -- configuring it.

"Do you just keep that on you?" she had to ask.

"Mostly. It's useful for copying data or getting out of bad situations."

"Bad situations?"

"Like locked doors."

Starscream must have seen the dubious look on Windblade's face. He quickly added, "Old habits."

"I am incredibly sorry about this," he set the box aside, and Windblade thought he did look genuinely sorry. "If you have anything else to attend to, please do."

"Most of the documents and data are in your office," Windblade sighed, and threw Starscream a semi-accusatory look. "I was hoping we can straighten things out before we talk to Marissa again."

"…Sorry," Starscream repeated, more dejected this time. It made Windblade want to downplay his fault in their current troublesome circumstance -- the brief thought made Windblade question a lot of things about herself, her beliefs, the world, and Starscream.

"Is there anything I can help with? To speed things up?"

"No. It's quite alright. I can handle it."

Whenever Starscream says that, it's a 50-50 of lie and half-truth. Windblade studied the components spilling out of the access panel and the indecipherable characters scrolling across the holographic screen of the little box. It reminded her of her cityspeaker training, but the parallels were limited. She didn't think her skills would add much or anything to the effort, and there were other things that required her attention. However --

"I can keep you company," she said, and sat down across from Starscream.

Starscream looked surprised, but didn't reject the offer. "Thank you," he said with a small smile.

It was a nice smile. No malice, no scorn, no irony. Just a show of appreciation and companionship.

It was strange, but not out of place, and for a bewildering second Windblade thought Starscream was a whole different person.

He had let down his walls -- his façade, baring open almost as much as he had when they were inside each other's minds.

It was the perfect time to strike. But Windblade found no words, and no means.

"Windblade, may I ask you something?"

Windblade tensed. She hoped Starscream hadn't noticed. "What do you want to ask?"

"Could you please tell me about Caminus?"

"You want to know about Caminus?" Windblade's voice jumped high.

Starscream looked like he had done something wrong. "Have I…asked this before?"

"No. No you haven't. I --" Windblade took a moment to calm her shock. Her frame relaxed. "Of course. It would be a pleasure."

---

Bumblebee sat on Starscream's desk, and watched as Good Starscream's hand passed through him to reach another data-pad. He was doing an impressive job of catching up to current affairs, talking to Scoop, and reviewing the universe-bridge blueprint, all at the same time.

It wasn't too bad for his first (technically second) day on the job. He had gotten bold about asking questions without worrying that he should already know the answer, after people kept responding to his inquires without so much as a pause -- there were lots of suppressed, frustrated groans however. And Elita-1 is of the suspicion that the High Chancellor had suffered severe brain damage.

To the disgruntlement of Rattrap, Good Starscream had asked for his agenda to be further pushed back by half a day. To the concern of Bumblebee, Good Starscream was determined to consume three year's worth of state affairs in that time.

"I think that's everything," Good Starscream said to Scoop, and showed him a list of parts. He scrolled through the blueprint, revealing the universe-bridge in different stages of repair. "We can return the bridge to operation in a week at most. I'll come by to help when I can."

Scoop didn't look too thrilled. "And where shall we get the parts, sir?"

Good Starscream sighed. "Wheeljack, right? I'll send him a message."

"Wait," said Scoop.

Starscream looked up quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"Why not direct all of your focus into running Cybertron? The bridge and this, it's a lot to manage, but if one had to choose, Cybertron should be the primary and potentially only concern."

"Don't worry, I can manage," Starscream said mollifyingly. "I've split my attention into many more facets and on equally important things, to acceptable results. Although I have to say participating in the governance and reconstruction of Cybertron is the biggest task I have ever undertaken -- but I am finding my footing, and this burden is not solely mine. Many people are helping me with Cybertron -- but there are only the two of us attending to the bridge. I would put more emphasis on the bridge then, for the lack of additional aid, and the very urgent objective of bringing this universe's Starscream back. I know it's a tough choice, to forsake your leader or the well-being of the planet, but it's not a choice you have to consider, Scoop."

Scoop opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally settled on a somewhat disappointed, "Okay."

Scoop went home near midnight. Bumblebee stayed up with Good Starscream until Wheeljack came knocking the next morning.

Chapter Text

On his second day in this bizarre world, Starscream received a lunch invitation.

He was on his way out of his quarters, against doctor's orders, for a bit of recon and the simple sake of defying orders (as if Hook gets to tell him what to do) when there came an enthusiastic "Haaaiii!" from below. Starscream almost kicked the feline-shaped shadow.

"Don't worry, Doc's not on watch," said the cat with a mischievous flick of his tail. "I wasn't sure if ur awake. Like, usually when I get shot, I sleep it off for smth like 2 or 4 days? Most of the time I'm not even sleeping, I just like being in bed. But it gets totes boring around Day 3, so I'm up. Ur not like, sleepwalking, right?"

Starscream stared. Sugary, vacuous, talkative, a color scheme to match this world's Soundwave. Now who could that be the opposite of?

"Ravage?"

"Yaw, that's me," a white paw waved upwards. "So ur awake?"

"No," said Starscream.

"Lul ur funny," Ravage giggled. Starscream winced.

"What are you doing here?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm here 2 take u 2 a party. All of my besties want 2 meet u."

Starscream resisted the urge to reprogram Ravage's language center then and there. Is this a thing with Soundwave and his cassettes? To annoy enemies into submission?

"Who wants to meet me? Specifically."

Ravage looked down and began counting on his tiny -- apparently uselessly clawless -- paw, "Rumble, Frenzy, Laserbeak, not Buzzsaw he's on duty, Whisper, Divebomb, Dirge, Crasher…Skywarp and TC and Soundwave too even tho they've already met u but it'll be like pretty cool to meet u a second time, and --"

"It's most of the base, isn't it?"

"Not rly, only like --" Ravage looked into the ceiling, frowned, dropped his optics to meet Starscream's again, and said confidently, "part of the base."

How have they survived this far?

Starscream smiled a kindly, layered smile. "You can't call half the base 'your bestie'. Best indicates -- well, best. One and only."

"But all of my friends are the best."

"If they're all best then the word doesn't mean anything, does it?"

"Nuh-uh it does. It means they're awesome."

"There has to be one that's better than the rest. Soundwave. He's different from all of your other friends, right?"

Ravage considered this. "I guess, yaw. Soundwave is like my best bestie. But he's more like my 2nd bestie."

Only second?

"Who's first?"

"First is Steeljaw ofc. I wuz gonna ask him 2 come 2 but he’s not rly a morning person."

Steeljaw. Starscream searched for the designation. "Isn't Steeljaw one of Blaster's?"

"He's the friendliest when u get 2 know him, but he has 2 keep up appearances."

"Making friends with Autobots isn't that uncommon of a thing here, is it."

"Is 3 a lot? IDK."

"Three? Steeljaw, Sideswipe, and who else?"

"That tall, dark, and evil one. The big airplane. He's rly only ur friend tho."

Starscream tried to recall anyone he knew with the opposite characteristics. A sanctimonious Autobot with a white or light color scheme and an airplane alt. The opposite of "friend" would be someone who hates Starscream, but that doesn't narrow the list down much, or at all.

"How evil?" Starscream asked.

"Blew up a bunch of cities evil. And loads else."

Curious, that a goody-two-shoes like the other Starscream would associate with such a bot. Starscream would be rather inclined to meet him.

There was one last question for Ravage. "Where's Megatron?"

"He went to Helex for some stuff."

"So he's not here, right now."

"Naw."

"Well well," Starscream bent down close to Ravage. "Shall we get going to your party then?"

---

There was an eruption of cheers when Starscream walked into the mess hall. It surprised him more than the unnatural silence immediately after as Thundercracker activated his powers to calm the ruckus.

Loud boom to silent bubble. Starscream would've thought teleportation becomes keeping people in place, but it's just teleportation. How disappointing.

Skywarp sent a wave in greeting.

"'Sup, dude?" Soundwave beamed and handed him a green rod. Starscream decided he wouldn't be having lunch today.

"He doesn't look much like him," said Dirge.

"I can see the resemblance," said Frenzy -- or Rumble.

"Shh, let the guy talk," said a bot who looked like a stretched lightbulb and sounded like Chromia.

The room fell silent, all optics on Starscream.

"I think a round of introductions is in order," Starscream cocked his head. "You don't look much like my version of Decepticons either."

"How come?" asked a bird that Starscream had to guess was one of the Predacons. He couldn't understand why he decided to show up as a bird.

"Parallel realities aren't copies," Soundwave took it upon himself to explain. "They're similar but distinct. We can have different colors, different hobbies, different jobs, different histories, different -- everything! The possibilities are totally radical."

"Wow, so there's like, a me but -- red?" Ravage sat up on hindlegs and sandwiched his face between two front paws.

"Black, actually, where I come from. With some gray," Starscream tossed out casually.

Ravage looked absolutely horrified.

"Oh oh, what about me? What am I like?" said Rumble -- or Frenzy.

Starscream took a guess. "You're red."

Ravage flopped flat on the floor. "How come he gets to be red?"

"It's paint, you can paint yourself red whenever you want," Starscream consoled.

"Is that why you're so colorful?" said the lightbulb bot.

Starscream pulled up a chair across from her, and with a lazy smirk and a sideway glance at Ravage, replied, "Yes."

"Do I have a different set of colors?" the lightbulb bot went on.

"I don't know. I have no idea who you are," Starscream said matter-of-factly.

There was a collective gasp.

"You mean Crasher doesn't exist?" Frenzy -- let's just settle with Frenzy -- exclaimed.

"Or," said a big red and blue bot with what appears to be a hammer for a head, "Crasher never met Starscream."

"Wouldn't that mean Crasher never became a Decepticon?" said another Predacon, this one out of beast form.

"Not necessarily," Starscream shrugged. "There were hundreds of millions of Decepticons, I couldn't have known everyone."

There was another collective gasp.

"Yo, dude. seriously?"

Starscream tensed, though he made sure nothing showed. "Why is that a surprise? As if you can memorize two more names and faces past the last five hundred thousand."

"Millions?" Thundercracker whispered.

"Hundreds of millions?" Dirge echoed.

Ah.

"How many do you have here?" Starscream asked.

"A few hundred," said the bot called Crasher, still in disbelief. "Not even near a thousand."

"Everyone else left the planet?"

"Mostly," the hammer-headed bot responded solemnly. "The fortunate ones are wandering in space."

That brought a heavy atmosphere over the supposed party. Starscream tried his best to look equally sad.

Ravage broke the silence. He hopped onto Starscream's table and sat by his arm. "Can you tell me abt your Soundwave? Is he blue? Does he still like Earth music? Is it like you and our Starscream? It's not just the colors. What's your hobby?"

Starscream settled down, smiled, took a deep in-vent --

-- and lied.

---

Soundwave? Dark blue, quiet, always watches his fellow Decepticons' backs. Always.

Shockwave? Purple not gold, dedicated, workaholic.

Thundercracker? Has a much better fashion sense. Oh and his powers work differently. (Skywarp questioned what the use of loud booms is.)

Skywarp? Black and purple. Pretty good at fighting Autobots. Yes, he also teleports.

Ravage? Diligent. Doggedly diligent. (This elicited a sigh from the Predacon bird.)

The Decepticons threw names at Starscream, most of which he knew, some he didn't. He was almost sure they'd named everyone that ever wore the badge in this world. Of course, eventually somebody was going to ask --

"Megatron?"

Starscream hesitated. "He isn't much into white, for one. Dark gray, with some black."

The crowd whispered a soft "wow."

("Hey, like me," said Ravage.)

Starscream stopped. The Decepticons waited. And waited.

"And?" Rampage urged.

"And not much. He's not much different. We can move on."

"But everyone else is really different," Crasher said, disappointed. "There's gotta be something interesting on the boss."

"Yeah, like does he use a sword instead of a gun?" Rumble waved his arms. "What does he do in his free time? Does he like math?"

"Not anymore, stuff, he's okay with it."

"He used to use a sword?" Divebomb hopped closer.

"It was a long time ago. He usually accompanies his cannon with a mace."

Divebomb leaned back, impressed.

"What kind of stuff?" Ravage pursued.

Starscream stood up and turned his back on his audience. "Read," he said flatly. "I'm heading back for a rest."

A wave of petulant protests rose from the smaller bots. Soundwave stepped in to calm the row.

"Need someone to come with?" Skywarp joined Starscream's side as he walked on and into the hallway.

"No."

They turned a corner.

Starscream, busy trying to dismiss Skywarp, collided with something white and flat and not a wall.

Chapter Text

Starscream thought he would hit the floor. He didn't. He looked up, horrified at the hand attached to his.

"Are you okay?"

He stared. His spark stopped spinning. Then he wretched his arm away and took three steps back. "I'm fine."

Realizing how out of character this curtness was for the image he had been fostering, Starscream added, "Thanks for asking. Sorry, you startled me."

"It appears to be becoming a habit of mine," said Megatron. "There's nothing for you to apologize for, I am entirely at fault."

Starscream shoved down the sudden urge to throw something. He steeled himself and calculated the most expedient way out of this interaction.

"I have been looking for you --" Megatron began.

Frag.

"-- if you could spare a klik?"

It's okay to say no to this one, right?

"It's about the course back to your reality."

Interest overtook unease. "What about it?" Starscream asked, still maintaining a three-step distance.

"I went over the schematics you provided and was able to procure most of what you require. With Decepticon bases all over the planet mobilized to bring the rest of the parts in, I believe construction can be completed in a matter of days."

Starscream sensed the "but" coming on. "You're worried about Autobot interference."

"Indeed. Without securing that sector of Crystal City and establishing a safe transport route, there is no guarantee of the spanner ever being completed. Worse yet, I fear what the Autobots may do should they capture the technology."

At this, Megatron sighed heavily. "If only we could build the entire spanner here in Darkmount, rather than just the receiving mechanism. But the energy needed is neigh impossible to acquire. Do you know --"

"It'll take too long, and too much. Way, way too much," Starscream dismissed the possibility with a patronizing shake of his head. "We take Crystal City then. How hard can it be?"

A look crossed between Megatron and Skywarp. "There's a reason it's been contested territory for so long," said Skywarp.

"And there's a reason you haven't won," Starscream declared confidently. "You didn't have me."

Megatron was bemused. "I shouldn't think our medical personnel would allow you on the field in your current state, but your tactical inputs would be much appreciated."

Starscream pouted. "You saw me out there. I can hold my own and more."

"I do not doubt it. However, as of yet, you are in recovery, and underequipped." Megatron's gaze brushed over Starscream from helm to thruster.

"Armor slows me down," Starscream insisted.

He would like armor though. Proper military armor. His civilian frame had torn unpleasantly like a thin sheet of aluminum.

"For your safety, I would provide you accessories more fitting of this world," Megatron offered gently. "I believe Starscream -- our Starscream, that is -- has spare plating that may suit you."

Not wholly enjoying the idea of using someone's leftovers, but acknowledging its practicality, Starscream asked, "Where?"

---

The Other Starscream did not have "spare plating".

To call it "spare plating" was like calling Earth "a planet with a few sapient primates", Bumblebee "somewhat indisposed", or Megatron's legacy "a couple of mistakes". The word "armory", even, was too frail to encompass its scope.

"Have you been here before?" Starscream asked Megatron half a minute after the lights in the workshop came on, during which he had been gaping.

"Frequently. I assisted in many of the designs."

It was a workshop of readymade armor sets, various upgrades, and whole entire frames.

"You allow this? During active war?"

In good times, Starscream could get away with a change of frame a couple centuries or so and even stockpile two or three selections. In the more common, and usually bad times, he only had Infiltration to look forward to.

"The resources expensed here for transformation research, optimal defenses, and functional efficiency have been incredibly valuable in improving the Decepticons' combat capabilities and overall endurance," Megatron replied affably, though slightly puzzled. "Such efforts are highly encouraged."

Ah, not officially a personal collection then.

Megatron left Starscream to peruse on his own, needing to attend to some other matter -- Soundwave ever the attention hog, it seemed. Swiping through the workshop catalogue, Starscream recalled his almost-a-space-shuttle counterpart. Clunky was his first impression, of the Other Starscream and most of the items here. But the more he thought about it the more the idea grew on him. A powerful cruiser alt isn't too bad of an idea. It packs a whole lot, can be highly maneuverable if assembled right, and can tank a whole lot if evasion isn't an option. Maybe he could even get himself to be as tall as -- taller than -- Megatron.

He took a piece here, a piece there, and compiled them conceptually on a hologram. He was disappointed in the lack of variety in color, but otherwise, it was a fine model. He fed the design to the computer and stepped under robotic arms ready to build him anew. A drastic process like this would usually put a mech under for the better half of a day at least, but Starscream was confident he would be up and flying in an hour.

When he woke up, the base was on battle alert.

Starscream grabbed the first mech he ran into in the hall.

"Wha -- Starscream!?" cried the conehead. Starscream was at a loss as to which of the coneheads this was and he really didn't care.

"What's going on?"

The conehead was a beat behind. "You're back!"

Starscream restrained his annoyance. "What do you mean I'm back, I've been here since yesterday. Why is the alarm blaring?"

He was met with confusion. Then contemplation. Then realization. "Oh, you're the one from the other place! I thought you're -- because of the --" the conehead waved his arms up and down in the direction of Starscream's person.

"I just got it done, thanks for noticing, now can you please tell me what the f -- what is going on?"

The conehead took an in-vent. "So I was coming back from my patrol over --"

"Keep it short."

The conehead's mouth snapped shut. He frowned ponderously.

"Starscream?" Scrapper skidded to a stop a little ways ahead of them. "You're ba -- !"

"No, I'm the other one, had a change of frame."

Scrapper, even behind the mask and visor, was plainly perturbed. "You're recently injured, you're not supposed to --"

"I already did it. What's going on around here?"

"Autobot attack, at Crystal City. Megatron has led -- Hey! You should be resting…."

But Starscream had shot off down the hallway. A boom shook the base.

---

Downshift's decision to help Prowl that fateful day came down to the calculation of how likely it was for Prowl to survive the encounter with the madmech they'd fished out of the portal. The relatively acceptable risk of pulling him out of the line of fire outweighed the consequences of a barely survived, extremely irked, tattle-inclined Autobot's retribution.

"Let's get our story straight," said Downshift as they raced back to the nearest outpost. "We arrived on the site of the energy reading, found nothing, it was just radiation messing with sensors, Decepticons nosied in, we took down six of them and they took down three of us."

"You forget the part where you hid and watched, coward."

"This coward saved your aft. If I didn’t take cover that psycho would've shot me, and where would you be now?"

"You really think Kup'll believe your shoddy lies? Jazz? Rodimus? Prime? No proof, no results, no heads."

"Then you find a way to not get us smelted, tool."

Prowl was silent for half a breem. "We bring Prime good news," he finally said.

"Frag what? We can barely hide the bad news and you pull this outta your exhaust?"

"It's a matter of perspective, you dolt. What do you think we just did back there?"

"Uh, get our afts kicked, tool?"

Prowl emitted a grunt of disgust. "We uncovered a Decepticon conspiracy."

Downshift respected Prowl's intelligence just enough to not call him crazy this one time. "Conspiracy to what?"

"To take over Crystal City and advance into Autobot territory. They have obviously devised a way of bringing instantaneous reinforcements to the battlefield and were testing it out in the desolation. Fortunately, before the technology has been fully perfected, we -- after laborious investigation and ingenious deduction -- pinpointed their location, interrupted their plot, and delayed the fruition of their project."

"Then throw in something about making a preemptive strike, that should hit Prime's bloodlust in the right spot," Prowl added as he transformed back into root form.

Downshift followed suit. "What about Warpath and the other two?"

"Megatron was there."

Downshift nodded. Really, just that one sentence was enough to distract Prime from all of their failures -- if they were lucky enough to not be questioned as to why and how Megatron got away.

---

Prime, finally out of his recently-invaded basement, bought the slag. Prowl shivered in relief when he was dismissed and Rodimus was ordered to prepare an assault with his Seekers. Prime himself was coming along of course -- anything that warrants the attention of Megatron warrants his attention.

Rodimus, his life on the line, did not buy the slag. Outside the throne room and out of sight of Prime, he cordially shoved Prowl up against a wall and grinned in show of goodwill.

"You think I'm stupid enough to lie?" Prowl croaked under the arm wedged against his voice-box.

"No no no m’mech, I think you'se smart enough to bend the truth. But we'se friends, ain't we? So’s you can tell me what you didn't the bossman. I won't rat ya out, promise."

Prowl stared at Rodimus' grin, considered the pros and cons, and conceded. He dished out about the energy signature. The portal that swallowed Scoop. And the thing that came out.

"They makin' new Cons now?" Rodimus asked with apprehension.

"Skills like that, I don't think he can be much greener than you or me. He smelled fresh though. And --" Prowl stopped.

"An' wha?"

Prowl collated every detail of the encounter. He wondered if a few bits of memory had been damaged during the fight. He definitely missed something, possibly quite important. "And I thought I knew him."

"Whadda ya mean?"

"Something familiar about him. Can't put a name to it. Honest, it's all I know." he quickly confessed as Rodimus increased the pressure on his arm to provide stronger incentive.

"Anything else I shoudda hear?"

"The Con had this weapon," Prowl touched his leg half-consciously, "get hit and it paralyzes you. Doesn't hurt, and the effects wear off, but you'd be in a load of trouble."

Rodimus hovered over Prowl silently a while more. Then his grin widened, and he gave his companion three hard pats on the back. Prowl choked. "You done good, m’mech" he said. "In fact, you done so good I think I'll let you come with. Woudda be nice to revisit, eh?"

"That won't be nece --"

"I insist."

Prowl's optics threw daggers. Rodimus received them with elation.

---

Divebomb was ashamed to say he didn't realize his comms had been jammed until he tried to tell Buzzsaw that he found a petrobunny-shaped cloud in the far horizon. His head snapped to the patrolling dot in the sky, urgency and meaning evident. Buzzsaw did a twirl in the air to signal acknowledgement and made for Darkmount.

To the credit of his training, Divebomb did sense Steeljaw before the cat pounced. A roar, the angry screech of claws on metal, and where Divebomb had perched a second ago there were deep gouges over which prowled a bored-looking Autobot.

Divebomb extended his talons menacingly. Steeljaw stretched and yawned. "Stay put," he said. Then he launched.

The attack was simple enough to dodge, but Divebomb was still surprised by the speed and agility of a bot Steeljaw's size and apparent weight.

"I'm trying to make this easier for both of us," Steeljaw drawled. "I'll catch you eventually, why waste the effort?"

"Fat chance, Auto-creep," Divebomb spat back. "Why are you here?"

Steeljaw paced languidly. "Something something orders." He struck again, a blur of dark gray and red, so fast and sudden that Divebomb barely registered his movement.

"Who's with you?"

Steeljaw ignored the question. He settled down on his hind legs and flicked a piece of Divebomb's armor off of his claw. He yawned again. "You can run."

"But I can't hide?"

"No, I'm just saying if you run now I can get a breem or two of solar-charge."

"I'm not leaving here, not until I put you down!"

Steeljaw looked up lazily. "Sure." He set his paws in front of him and arched his back. The artillery on the sides of his body oriented towards the sky.

A hail of fire greeted Divebomb. Learned instinct kicked in, a routine practiced countless times in his lessons with Razorclaw's guidance, admonishment, and encouragement by his audial. Divebomb swore that if he made it through this he would pay better attention in class.

What would his teacher say right now? The best defense is a good offense.

Divebomb dipped in the air, throwing Steeljaw's aim well above him, rolled, and turned his guns on the Autobot. An angry growl -- a hit! One of Steeljaw's armaments fritzed in malfunction. Divebomb swooped up and prepared another run.

Something from his right tore through his wing. He fell, burning, clinging onto consciousness, his remaining wing flapping uselessly. The world tumbled past him, and everything went dark.

---

Blaster shook the bird again. "Vat. Are. Ze. Dezepticonz. Doing. Here."

The bird said nothing and kept on bleeding. Blaster held him higher and flicked his optic. The head flinched. Still alive then.

"Prowler, take over," Rodimus groaned.

"But it vaz mein catch!"

"Good job, now you'se just wastin' time. Hand the Con over."

Blaster snarled, but nevertheless tossed Divebomb towards where Prowl stood. Prowl didn't bother catching. He kneeled down, drew a cable from his arm, and forced it into the back of the bird's head. Rodimus tapped his foot. "Well?"

"Shut up, I need to concentrate," Prowl snapped. Rodimus raised his hands and shrugged. "Just expecting it to go lotta faster with a pipsqueak like this."

"It's not about size, it's --"

"UNHAND HIM, FIENDS!"

Prowl's face went smack into the ground. Razorclaw drew energon.

"Zteeljaw!" Blaster cried accusingly. Steeljaw turned on one optic, languorously surveyed the situation, and as if a Decepticon attack was not in motion, rose from his sunny sleeping spot like it was a fine, quiet afternoon.

Another Predacon rained down, landing atop Blaster's face. The Autobot screeched. Rodimus was already out of sight, in cover, weapon out, a good vantage towards the sky. He counted two jets, one shuttle, and --

Oh goody.

Rodimus sent a quick message to Prime. Megatron's landing thundered across the landscape. Goldbug was hiding behind the ruins across, Blurr was a little ways back carefully pulling out his gun, Side Burn next to him. Prowl was completely down -- the useless tool -- and Blaster was wrestling with the cat on his face. Steeljaw appeared to be playing a half-hearted game of tag with his Predacon.

[Seekers, to me,] Rodimus commed.

The rest of the Cons touched ground, some coming to a menacing landing, some jumping out of the shuttle. Rodimus recognized the teleporter, the triple changer, that damned traitor, and the weird one with twin pistols.

"Yield, Rodimus. You are outmatched," said Megatron.

"Yeah, I reckon that too," Rodimus replied cheerfully. "What now? You gonna read us the terms of surrender?"

"Reveal yourselves and forfeit your weapons, then we shall proceed with due process."

"That's it? And youse won't shoot?"

"On my honor, if you comply we will not perpetrate violence. However, should you abuse our goodwill for the opportunity to attack, we will retaliate in kind."

"Hmm, sweet deal, ain't it? I'm almost tempted to say yes. But it ain't that easy, ya see, I gotta ask my boss."

The rumble of Optimus Prime's arrival sent what debris not firmly attached to the ground juggling into the air. Prime transformed with a roar, stopping just outside of melee range of Megatron, Jazz and reinforcements in tow. Seekers emerged from cover and joined the semi-circle surrounding the Decepticons.

"Megatron!"

"Optimus. It's been a while."

"What fortuitous occasion has brought us together again. And you, finally summoning the courage to present yourself in battle."

"Likewise, Optimus."

Prime's clenched fist made a harsh grinding noise. "Or," a nasty malice snaked into his tone, "has the Decepticon ranks thinned so much of late that its leader has to do the work of a common foot soldier? I recall picking up something of yours on my grounds recently. He was a delectable distraction for many days. I see why you keep him around, despite his lack of prowess. A shame though, that a thing so delightfully exquisite is so easily broken."

Megatron's face grew sullen. "I pity that you should take joy in suffering. And that you would see yourself above your fellow Autobots."

"I am above them, am I not? What they have today they have because of me. I ignited the fire in their embers, set them on a victorious path, fashioned them into glorious instruments of destruction. Without me they would be purposeless mongrels squabbling amongst scrap. My will guides them, my command is their creed, and for this they are forever indebted to me."

"You build an empire of fear and repression, and sit atop your lonely throne in never-ending paranoia. You have never know true loyalty, and comradery has ever escaped you. You know not care, nor what it is to be cared. Your joys are base and brutish, because you cannot comprehend the feelings that bring true satisfaction. When your violent delights come to their violent ends, you would find your life empty."

Prime's laugh was like a tempest. "I look forward to proving you wrong. Look around you and see my mark. My accomplishments are etched into the very core of the planet, whereas you have failed in every endeavor. Your cities have fallen to me, your precious comrades crushed under my heel, everything you have sought to preserve I have desecrated. It is only a matter of time before I wipe the Decepticons from existence, and then you will see what an insignificant speck you are in my grand history."

"That will be easier said than done, Optimus. You have wounded us, yes, but every time we rise again --"

Optimus Prime's mask exploded.

The battlefield hushed. All optics turned in stunned rigidity to the smoking gun.

"What?" said the white and red newcomer that couldn’t have been but can only be Starscream. "They were going to go on forever." Then he pointed the pistol at Rodimus.

---

The only thing Functionism got right, Starscream thought, was dictating his role as a weapon.

Of course, they didn't tolerate his existence, but by virtue of his alt mode and with some credit to the Senate, as custom Starscream was trained to fight the first thing upon coming online. He was good at. He got good at it, because he didn't want to die.

He liked it, because he was good at it. And because it was the briefest shadow of control in a life devoid of choice.

Was that what drew him to Megatron? The realization that might can be honed into destiny?

Starscream rammed his knee into Jazz's chin. A giddy charge buzzed in his lines. His null rays itched to fire. There was a craving in his chest, a burning like anger and hunger at the same time. Rust and sulfur and spilled energon in the air. Familiar. Agitated. Impatient. One downed enemy was far from enough. Two prone figures lay behind him. Bludgeon was shouting for his pistol back. Starscream fired it at Jazz's wrist, tossed the gun back to Bludgeon, and acquired his new weapon from Jazz's severed hand. Flecks of energon stained his white armor. He was disgusted and excited by it.

Something moved behind him. Starscream's null ray spun around and went off, catching Rodimus in the shoulder.

"Wha --"

It wasn't the shot that surprised him, Starscream noticed. "That was --," Rodimus gaped, a hand on his limp arm. Starscream didn't understand. He also didn't care. He fixed Jazz's blaster on that travesty of a mustache.

Rodimus dove out of the way, sputtering expletives. Purple bolts flew at Starscream, restricted in their spread by the awkward angle Rodimus was shooting at.

"You know, I expected more," Starscream said casually. "So far, you Autobots have been a disappointment."

"Ey, up your pipe with a windshield-wipe, freak," Rodimus shouted back.

"Is that Prime's thing?"

"Wha -- the frag is wrong with you?"

"Everything's quite alright actually." Starscream lifted off on his thrusters and flipped in front of Rodimus. Rodimus dove out of the line of fire again. His arm was tingling with returning sensation. Starscream seemed disinterested in pursuing. He looked off to his right, smiled, and flew off.

Rodimus peaked over an upturned vehicle to see what the absolutely-not-alright Con was up to. Starscream was fast approaching Megatron and Prime.

---

Optimus Prime was boiling with rage. So much so that he was unusually quiet during their current duel. The battle unfurled around them. Decepticons were soon gaining the upper hand, having taken advantage of the Autobots' bewilderment.

Prime's ax battered down on Megatron's cannon, denting the ground beneath them. The less pleasant feature of the warlord's wrath being every strike with the added force of tenfold fury was quickly depleting Megatron's strength.

An opening. There must be an opening. These vicious attacks come at the cost of good defense. Megatron aimed for Prime's midsection. The hit landed, Prime barely staggered back, his ax unrelentingly flying up towards Megatron's neck --

Optimus Prime's head snapped back. Starscream landed next to Megatron, an almost maniacal fire in his red optics. Prime roared. A hand covered his face, blue seeping through. Starscream charged. Prime's arm swung. Megatron grabbed ahold of Starscream's back, and where Prime's ax would have met Starscream's head it only cleaved air.

Anger erupted on Starscream's face. He turned back towards Megatron, ready to say something. Words choked into a whimper when Megatron suddenly pulled him in, shielded Starscream in an embrace, and raised his cannon arm. Two burning bolts of plasma sunk into Megatron's back. Megatron's shot grazed Prime on the shoulder. But before Prime could press the attack, two missiles hit him square in the chest.

"Here comes the cavalry!" Rumble -- or Frenzy -- shouted as he raised two more missiles for Laserbeak to snatch up.

Prime gurgled something -- damaged, rumbling in rage, but still standing. Recognizing disadvantage and more willing to work around Prime's ire than to face certain death, Rodimus cried, "Autobots, retreat!"

Prime's optics flared. But all around him his troops were backing down, transforming into vehicle mode for speedy escape. Optimus Prime took two steps back. His transformation gears shifted.

Starscream broke away from Megatron. "He's not getting away!"

A shadow covered the sky. Something big landed in front of Starscream, clad almost entirely in black, a face made featureless by a mask and visor, glowing blades extending from the bot's forearms. A row went up behind Starscream, wholly ignored by him. Starscream attempted to launch over the sentient obstacle, only to be met by it in midair.

"Out of the way," Starscream snarled.

The Autobot studied him calmly. Then without any preamble whatsoever, he said, "Red suits you."

Fusion cannon fire split them apart before Starscream could comprehend the ludicrous line. The Autobot dodged another shot, caught Starscream's optics one last time, and flew after his retreating leader.

Chapter Text

Megatron was the first to go up to Starscream when he touched ground.

Spectacular.

"We could've had him," Starscream seethed.

Megatron, already too close by Starscream's typical standards, stopped in his tracks.

"We could've ended it all then and there," Starscream's arm swung back and pointed towards the darkening horizon and the dust cloud of the Autobots' retreat. "Thanks to your idle tactics and feckless leadership --"

Then Starscream remembered. Because Megatron wasn't looking at him with irritation or anger or sadistic patience.

Megatron looked…worried.

All sound died in Starscream's voice box. "I --" he bowed his head, "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"It's nothing to be sorry about. Are you alri --" Megatron had stepped forward, raising a hand to provide comfort. Despite knowing no harm would come from the touch, Starscream instinctively flinched back, doubling the space between them.

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

This was Starscream's victory. His chance to prove to this Megatron that he's capable. That he could handle every single one of this world's cut-rate Autobots. That he, the peace-maker in his own world, would be able to resolve the same prolonged conflict here in one fell swoop.

Maybe it was a stretch of his imagination from the start.

The Autobots got away. He was tangled up in the air. Megatron had to save him.

He didn't have to. Megatron was in the way. That's why it didn't go according to plan and Prime is still alive.

"Let's head back," Starscream turned around and made a deliberate effort not to notice the concern radiating from the Decepticons. "We have wounded."

Starscream was the first to take off. The first to return to base. A sudden vertigo struck him as he touched down, something from long, long ago, displaced in time and space. Darkmount dimmed and became grimmer, the hanger lined with troops, and behind him, the sound of his Seekers, their wings tearing air, the sharp and clean turn of their gears as they transformed, heated frames still cooling from atmospheric reentry. News of his conquest had arrived long before him, and as he strutted forward, gait light, spark swelling, the Decepticons hailed him a champion. But neither the crowd nor the spectacle nor the glory he knew he rightly deserved could compare to the figure in front of him.

"Excellent, Starscream."

He had envisioned a similar return. The present came back, and there was only a chipper Soundwave, his cassettes, Hook, and Scrapper. Two of them were talking. Starscream waved a hand and walked ahead.

A victory warrants a celebration, and Starscream had half a mind to get blind drunk. When was the last time he did that? Oh right, when his FIM chip still worked the way he wanted. He lightly touched the back of his neck.

Screw memory. "Go away," he hissed. "You left already."

The energex here probably wouldn't affect him anyway. Starscream passed by the quarter allocated to him, hesitated, and moved on. There was nothing in there that he could distract himself with. He found himself missing Bumblebee, then quickly dismissed the idea for fear of summoning the sanctimonious little clod. Bumblebee would just lecture at him and make things worse.

He made his way to the lab -- Starscream's lab. The doors acknowledged him.

"Computer?" Starscream said to the room after he entered.

"Awaiting orders," the AI responded.

"Who has primary administrative control over this laboratory?"

"Chief Scientific Officer, Air Commander Starscream. Commander-in-Chief Megatron."

"So if I lock the doors behind me Megatron would be able to override them?"

"Affirmative."

"Frag," Starscream groaned.

"Apologies, I did not register the order."

"Lock it down. And don't let anyone in until I say so."

"Affirmative."

"Not even Megatron."

"I cannot guarantee --"

"Just do it."

Starscream heard the locking mechanisms latch. He turned around and raised a null ray, aimed to disable the door permanently. Then he thought better of it, lowered his arm, and set about making adjustments to the Other Starscream's projects.

---

A knock came. Starscream made no indication he was present. He suspected it was either Ravage or Megatron. The voice confirmed it was the latter.

"Starscream? Are you in there?"

You know I'm in here.

Starscream waited for the doors to open. They didn't. He tensed.

"I know you want to be left alone for a while, but…..I think it would be best if we talked."

There's nothing you can say that would make me feel better. Still, he walked towards the door and set a hand against the metal. He could feel a soft vibration. The tune of engines, dampened, but intimately recognizable. He remembered its powerful rumble, the warmth of a frame running high from battle, the metallic scent of burnt plating, one vivid spark -- ember -- heard with his audial pressed against a firm chest, an arm wrapped around him as if that's all it takes to keep away the world's harms.

He heard Megatron sigh. "I'm sorry."

Stop saying sorry. Starscream wanted to shout. You're Megatron. You don't do sorry.

But it was good to hear it. "Go on," he said to the door.

He felt Megatron shift. "I should have protected you. I have a duty towards you, one that I did not fulfill. I have been so accustomed to war that I neglected to consider what this must be like for you. To return to this chaos and devastation from peace must be excruciating. And to be face to face again with demons that you have probably left in the past…I do not claim to know how you feel, but I can see that you're confused and hurt."

Starscream stared ahead. For one stupid second, he thought Megatron really did see. That he understood.

How can you protect me when you're the problem? Starscream nearly laughed at the lunacy of it all.

But of course, Megatron didn't understand. "I should never have let Jetfire come close. I would rather you not have went up against Optimus. I do not know how much of Optimus' words you heard, but if there are any that distressed you, know that they are untrue. Falsehoods are his only weapon against our will and our hope. You are the best of everything the Decepticons strive --"

"Why do you think I give a damn about anything that lunatic says?" Starscream burst out.

They don't matter. They're jokes. This world is a joke. Everything in it is a joke.

Except you.

The thought surprised Starscream. It scared him.

"You…don't?"

"Obviously! That's why I shot him in the face!"

Starscream could hear Megatron trying to make sense of the logic. He decided to help. "If I really minded I would've talked back. What kind of argument would I be winning if I shut the other bot up with a blast to the head?"

"Was it something Jetfire --"

"No! I don't give a damn about him either. I don't care about any of the Autobots, period. I'm happy to pummel them any day. I enjoy the chaos. I was made to fight. You don’t need to protect me, I don't break easily. Come at me with everything you've got and I can take it. Your duty isn't towards me. It's towards Cybertron, it's to defeat Prime and crush the Autobots so thoroughly that they'll never rise again. If you don't get that, I'll take it into my own hands. And I'll need you to get the hell out of my way."

The other side of the lab fell silent. Starscream instantly regretted almost all of what he'd just said. He rested his helm on the door to make sure Megatron was still there.

There's no going back from this, is there?

"You're angry because I interfered. You really are mad at me," Megatron said at last, his ember laid bare in his tone, aching and sincere.

"I wasn't mad at you," Starscream let slip before he could stop himself. Frag. "I was worried you were mad at me."

Megatron startled. "I would never --"

"I know. I know that's not you," Starscream brushed a hand over his face. "I think there's something I -- we need to make clear. I'm not your Starscream. And you're not --"

The remaining words clawed and ate at his vocalizer.

"I understand," Megatron said softly.

"You don't."

"I can try."

Starscream forced a chuckle. He stepped back and cued for the door to open. In the second between the command to the computer and the barrier between him and Megatron parting, he had schooled his expression and posture to be that of self-assured bemusement.

"You have acquired new accessories," Megatron noted with mild surprise.

Starscream unsheathed one blue neutronic blade from the side of his armor. He eyed it satisfactorily. "Jetfire had a pair. I'd like to be equally prepared the next time we cross each other. Two more reasons for you to not worry about me. Would you like one?"

Before Megatron could respond, Starscream's gaze had fallen to the cannon still hung on his arm. "Let's get that fixed first," said Starscream.

"Certainly." With a gentle smile of appreciation and slight puzzlement, Megatron detached the weapon and held it out in both hands. "Where would you have me place this?"

Starscream waved in the general direction of a once pristine, now messy workbench.

"And I take it that you require no assistance from me?"

"Fast learner."

"Thank you."

As Megatron walked by, Starscream took in the dents and scorches in his armor. Two ugly holes on Megatron's back sank as far as internal wiring. Starscream knew why they were there.

Guilt never struck. Joy did.

And along with joy, a hollow, inexplicable dread.

He heard his name in the distance. Starscream ripped his attention away from the insanity of his emotions. Megatron was leaving.

"Hold on," he said. Megatron stopped halfway out the lab. "Thanks for --"

It was awkward to finish. Genuine gratitude was unbecoming of him.

Megatron smiled. "My thanks as well."

In a minute, Starscream was alone again. He tapped the battered cannon on the workbench. Something smoky and metallic with the tint of energon hit his olfactory sensors. He wondered how much of it was memory at play. Starscream heaved a long ex-vent. Elation circled his spark, and in a macabre dance with it, the leaden fear that as soon as he looked away it would all be gone.

Chapter Text

Wheeljack was with Starscream when Elita-1, composure perplexingly irreconcilable with her evident hostility, burst into the conference room, tailed by Obsidian. She threw a data-pad down on the schematics Starscream had been intently discussing with Wheeljack.

"You approved this?" Elita-1 demanded.

Starscream picked up the data-pad, sheepishly scrolled through the contents, and replied, "Yes?"

"Are you asking me?" Elita snapped.

"No -- I mean, yes, I approved the proposal. I don't understand what's wrong."

"500 tons of manganese steel?"

"As requested by Carcer."

"Five. Hundred. Tons."

"Did I get the amount wrong?" Starscream frowned and looked down at the data-pad again. "Do you need more?"

Elita's fist slammed into the table, hard enough to intimidate, restrained enough to not cause property damage. "You spent 3 months dallying over my request for 200 tons. What about Cybertron needing the steel more?"

"After some recalculations and engineering optimization, Whe --" Starscream glanced over to make sure Wheeljack wouldn't mind being involved in this -- "Wheeljack and I concluded that the Manganese Mountains operations, along with previous stockpiles, can guarantee Carcer sufficient materials. Iacon's construction will be slowed of course, but Carcer is in more urgent need."

Elita's death glare swept towards Wheeljack. Wheeljack nodded earnestly. Some unknown signal was exchanged between Elita and Obsidian, and as if a switch had been flipped, Elita leaned away from the table, a sharp rictus supplanting her intense accusatory distrust. There was still murder in her optics.

Wheeljack thought he rather preferred Starscream's homicidal look -- at least with Starscream you knew it would be sudden and swift. Elita promised brutality and a lot of screaming before the end.

Right now though, Starscream was wide-optic, unsure, but all together amiable.

"I have been informed that 100 tons of steel are as of now ready and set to be delivered to Carcer, is that so?" said Elita.

Starscream picked up one of the various data-pads neatly arranged before him, tapped a few things, and replied, "Yes. And another 50 tons is underway --"

"As a show of appreciation towards Cybertron's generosity," Elita said with blatant malice, "I will arrange for Obsidian to relocate the shipment for use in Iacon's reconstruction."

"Oh, that won't be nece --" Starscream began.

"I insist."

"Okay…. Thank you, Elita-1. I will get the next shipment to Carcer as soon as possible."

"Take your time," Elita casually retrieved the data-pad she had hurled before Starscream. "Cybertron, being the home world, should take precedence, no?"

The conference room doors closed behind Elita and Obsidian's parting figures. Starscream relaxed. Wheeljack did not.

"What's wrong with the Carcer steel?" he whispered to Starscream.

"Nothing. Why? Is something wrong?"

"You didn't sabotage it? Replace it with sodium? Use magnesium instead of manganese and make up the lost weight with lead? Coat the shipment in radium?"

"No!" Starscream responded with authentic incredulity. "Why would I?"

"Just checking. We're gonna be putting the stuff in our buildings."

"Yes, that has been made clear by Elita-1," said Starscream, seemingly befuddled.

Wheeljack thought that if Cybertron had an award for acting, Starscream would take gold until the end of time.

"Well, that's that then," he said. "The extra material will move us up by a week."

Starscream beamed.

Wheeljack had to wonder what 5D Fullstasis just went on. Elita-1 expected Starscream to be disingenuous and send faulty steel so she turned the first shipment on Iacon, Starscream expected Elita-1 to expect him to be disingenuous and make Iacon test the steel first so Starscream actually sent good quality manganese steel to Carcer knowing it would be sent back and put in use for Iacon, so that when he does give Carcer another shipment --

What.

Wheeljack shook his head. There seemed to be a lot of 5D Fullstasis going on around Starscream recently.

Windblade had a different theory. "He's trying to be good. People aren't quite used to it yet."

Wheeljack would have thought the last three years working alongside Starscream was enough to crush that optimism, but Windblade was Windblade. Wheeljack only hoped she'd be let down more gently this time. It wasn't that Wheeljack lacked complete faith in Starscream, it's just that, four million years' habits are hard to kick, Wheeljack's included. And the habit of not trusting Starscream had saved many a Autobot plating -- though never enough.

But Wheeljack had to admit, he had a hand in exasperating the worst of Starscream. Things seemed to be left in the past for now, though when they finally came face to face a few days ago after ages of only comm communication, Starscream had been evidently cagey and guarded. Wheeljack was partly convinced it was because of the Swindle incident. His conscience nagged at him. He'd never actually apologized.

"Oh no, I have to run," Starscream suddenly straightened up.

"Where?"

"Upstairs, the Mistress of Flame just arrived."

"You have a welcome wagon planned for her?"

"That would be the courteous thing to do, unfortunately I'm at a loss for time. Windblade is escorting her to Conference Room 1. I had asked her to meet me when she has time and uh, apparently that's now. I'm really sorry about this, Wheeljack."

Primus, and he looked like he meant it.

"Don't worry, I can get this done on my own. I'll call you if I have problems."

Starscream smiled. "Thank you. It's wonderful to have you here for me."

Ow. The guilt in Wheeljack's spark hitched up a step. Why'd he have to put it like that?

"Thanks for trusting me again," Wheeljack needed to say.

Starscream paused, halfway towards the door.

"And I'm really sorry about going behind your back and all that…we can talk later," Wheeljack quickly added.

Starscream tipped his helm in a lighthearted nod. "Of course." Then he was gone.

Wheeljack sighed, and tried to bring his focus back to the blueprint projected across the table. Starscream had designed most of the city-wide automatic recycling system. Wheeljack's job was to predict the faults and fix the kinks. There really wasn't much for him to do -- the design was near perfect.

Starscream can work wonders when he sets his mind to something.

The cautious side of Wheeljack worried that something right now was getting bots on his side by any con, scheme, acts, and lies necessary.

Knowing he likely will die for this, Wheeljack let his cautious side slip.

---

Starscream couldn't remember the last time he was this carefree.

Not to say running Cybertron was entirely stress-less, but routine logistics and mundane disputes were leagues better than agonizing over how many of his friends he could have gotten killed with one inconsiderate decision.

And he didn't have to raise a weapon. He didn't have to fight. He could make the world better without having to destroy anything.

The Autobots were a bit threatening at first, but once Starscream realized they would concede to civility he got along better with them. Other than color, they were also rather different from the Autobots in Starscream's universe -- similarly strange, but degrees more affable and sane. Maybe peace had toned down their violent and explosively creative tendencies.

Then there were all the bots that didn't exist in his universe -- or whom Starscream never met. If Starscream didn't have duties to attend to, he would have liked to find a rooftop above main street and simply watch people go by.

Starscream only wished he could meet more Decepticons. He hadn't had the time to inquire into their whereabouts, but from what he picked up, Soundwave, Thundercracker, and Skywarp were on Earth along with a few others. He would really like to know where Megatron is.

Brawl stood at attention when Starscream passed by the Combaticons' station at the end of the hall. Blast Off too, though with markedly less enthusiasm. "At ease," Starscream said cheerily. "It's just me, no need to be so serious."

"Sure, sir," Brawl relaxed. Blast Off slacked. "Carcerians weren't giving you trouble, were they?"

"No trouble at all, thank you."

"They can do with getting knocked down a notch anyway," Brawl grunted.

"I wouldn't have that," Starscream reprimanded gently. "Peace is hard earned and harder to maintain. We are all rebuilding and healing. Carcer has its needs, it is Elita-1's right as representative of her people to demand those needs be met and Cybertron's duty to provide them. Even if it gets heated once in a while, we can always resolve things with words instead of might of arms."

Brawl slowly processed the concept.

"Conference Room 1 security detail is ready," Blast Off interrupted. "Brawl will escort you up, sir."

"I see. Thank you, Blast Off."

Blast Off delivered a curt nod and turned away. Starscream tried not to let the frigid attitude bother him…..too much. He readjusted his smile and focused on the task ahead.

The colonies were still mystery boxes generating new intrigue every single day. How they came to be, how they were lost, how they evolved…. Starscream has so much to learn. He'd learned a lot from Windblade, but there's still plenty to comprehend. Religion, for one. As a bot of science he denied the woefully groundless theory that the planet is a god and all that, and thankfully Windblade's beliefs didn't stretch that far, but it's still impossible to assert "Primus doesn't exist" in front of her when Caminus' entire culture is based around that...."fact".

Nevertheless, Starscream can respect Caminus' belief without subscribing to it himself.

Onslaught disappeared behind the doors of the conference room. Starscream wished he was here with him. He could request it, but it seemed improper to. So he bowed to the Mistress, feeling a bit out of place, but glad to at least have Windblade with him.

The Mistress of Flame returned the greeting, "Well met, Chosen One."

Starscream really needed to ask about that sometime soon.

---

It's like his Starscream's first few weeks in office, but so much…..happier.

Bumblebee watched Good Starscream debate the ethics of using dead titan parts to construct cities, watched him carefully take notes on the Mistress of Flame's requirements for a hallowing rite, watched him dive into another meeting with Devisens, and then court, then another meeting, and another meeting…..

Starscream's typical day (and Bumblebee's, back when he was running things) could be just as hectic, but Good Starscream actually enjoyed it. Sure, Starscream reveled in the occasional show of authority, and Bumblebee liked helping people, but it was, for the most part, 10% satisfaction and 90% frustration.

No matter how tired he was at the end of the day, Good Starscream returned to his -- Starscream's office with a look that said this was everything he ever wanted.

He was in the office now, catching up on history. Not history history -- Bumblebee worried the bot's ember might break if he really learned everything about this universe in one go -- mostly the administrative records and meeting minutes Starscream had shoved in every available cabinet and corner. Starscream had a filing system entirely incomprehensible to anyone but him. Bumblebee wasn't sure if it was clever precaution or abject indifference.

Good Starcream finished one data-pad, powered off the screen, and stored it neatly in a drawer wherein he had begun his own much more comprehensible filing system. The drawer was nearly stuffed full. Good Starscream tried to push it close -- something caught, the drawer shuddered, and refused to move.

"Oh dear," gasped Good Starscream. He crouched down to examine the furniture, fumbled with screws and slides, and with immense care pulled the stuck box out. As he did so, a thin rectangle tumbled onto the ground.

Good Starscream set the files aside and picked it up. Bumblebee peeked over his shoulder. It was a data-pad, ancient by the model and weathering, dented and scraped and worn but well-preserved. It stood out among the modern data-pads, the modern office, and the modern…..everything.

"Looks pre-war," Bumblebee commented. No one heard him.

Good Starscream turned it on. One line flashed across the screen: For Terminus.

"Who’s Terminus?" Bumblebee asked. Good Starscream turned a page. Bumblebee had no time to skim it as Good Starscream suddenly stood up, taking a call.

"Scoop? Yes. Yes! I will be right there. Thank you so much, please hold tight."

The data-pad was absentmindedly slipped into subspace, Good Starscream rushed towards the roof, transformed, and shot off into the night.

"I'll meet you there," Bumblebee shouted after him. Not even an echo replied to him in the now empty room.

---

"Good evening Scoop! It's ready?" Starscream huffed excitedly as he landed on the universe-bridge site.

"Yes. You said to call as soon as it's ready to operate, and now it is," Scoop responded with an equal measure of dejection.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Scoop said hopelessly.

"Don't worry, even if something is, we can fix it. Systems check."

Scoop sighed and did as he was asked. The bridge hummed, indicators lit up, and the air crackled.

"This is it then," Starscream's hand hovered over the launch switch.

"Wait, sir," Scoop piped up, "wouldn't it be safer to have security here? In case something like last time happens?"

Starscream was jolted out of his excitement. "Oh. A valid point, Scoop." He thought for a moment. "I can call Onslaught…..but I'm not sure how he will take to the situation, and Starscream likely isn't inclined to have more people involved."

Starscream stepped away from the console. Scoop's spark leapt in joy until -- "Scoop, could you please take over here?"

Stations were switched, weapons were drawn. Starscream stood before the bridge ring. "When I give the signal, initialize, then shut it down as soon as I go in."

"How will you make it back?"

"Reinitialize the portal in exactly three cycles. I'll be waiting on the other side with Starscream."

"But what if you're delayed? Or the mechanism breaks down? I can't fix this by myself," Scoop tried one last time. "Cybertron won't have a leader then."

"It's okay. I have checked every single component of this construction since we started rebuilding it. And I have complete trust in your work, Scoop."

"Ah," sighed Scoop.

"Alright, let's finally fix things. If you please, Scoop, initialize."

The portal whirled open. Thrusters lit, and Starscream was gone. Reluctantly, Scoop flipped back the switch to shut the bridge down.

The portal stayed open.

"Huh?" Scoop muttered.

Then a white feline head with big yellow optics poked out of the pink. "Hai!" it said. "Who r u?"

Before Scoop had a chance to reply, the cat was jerked back, and a few seconds later out tumbled two bots with wings. One of them was in pristine white with red highlights. The other's paint flickered. Scoop raised his blaster ready to defend Starscream.

The bot in white turned to look at him, signature annoyance on full display, and Scoop's weapon, along with his spark, dropped.

"Welcome back," Scoop said unhappily, to the real incumbent High Chancellor of Cybertron.

Chapter Text

"What's this?" Starscream loci poked Starscream's shoulder. His entire frame flickered again.

"Oh," Starscream deactivated the illusion. He popped the little mechanism out of his arm. "It's a cloaking device. Not the best piece of engineering I have devised, but --"

"Those were my colors," Starscream loci said. His tone wasn't angry, but Starscream felt like he had been cast at the edge of cliff with no flight protocols.

"Yes," Starscream said, static caught in his voice box. Then his mouth ran. Windbalde's call, how it got started, how everyone thought he was this universe's Starscream, how he kind of sort of accidentally but also consciously slipped into the role, what he's been doing these last few days, and how he is very sorry --

Starscream loci stopped him there. "Is my city still in one piece?"

"It is," Starscream stuttered out. "We have kept up with reconstruction in areas devastated by the titan --"

"Who's we?"

"Windblade, Wheeljack, Rattrap, and Delegates --"

"You've been working with them," Starscream loci's optics thinned, "and no one has suspected a thing?"

Starscream looked back at him uncomprehending. "Suspected…..what?"

"That you're not me."

"Oh. No. I don't think so?"

Starscream loci sighed. He turned his head slightly to include Scoop in his periphery. "I still am ruling this planet, right?"

"Yes," Starscream and Scoop said at the same, with entirely opposite emotions.

Starscream loci didn't immediately reply. For half a kilk it looked like his attention was fixed on something behind Starscream. Starscream tried to turn to see it, but before he acted Starscream loci said, "I have some damage control to do and you have a universe to return to. Shall we each get to it?"

The implied instructions were slow to register in Starscream's processor. Return. He's returning home. He'd forgotten about home. Guilt rung his helm like a hammer. His friends had been fighting a war while he had been playing at peace.

"Of course," he said. His voice felt light. He looked towards the swirling portal. It remained stable. "After I go through, you'll deactivate the bridge?"

"To prevent unwanted entries, yes. The Decepticons have a tenuous hold on Crystal City, but I'm not leaving the safety of my world up to them."

"I…see. Thank you again," Starscream smiled. He hoped the smile didn't look as sad as he felt. "I don't know if there is anything I can ever do to repay your aid, but whenever you have need of me, please find me. I will do everything I can." He took a step forward. This is it then.

"Wait," said Starscream loci.

Starscream's ember hopped with shameful hope.

"Give me your cloaking…thing."

Starscream was already handing it over before Starscream loci had explained why he wanted it. "It'll take me some time to get my proper paint scheme back. I can make do with this meanwhile."

Starscream finally took notice of Starscream loci's frame. It was almost like looking at a mirror -- with a few striking differences. Are these sheaths for neutronic swords? "I really like your new look," he said sincerely.

"Of course you do," Starscream loci replied.

Ravage poked half of his body out of the portal again. "R u sure we can't have a field trip?" he whined.

Starscream loci pointed an adamant finger the way Ravage had come. "No. Everyone is going back to where they belong."

With a small laugh, Starscream strode forward and gently lifted the Recordicon. "Come on, before we overstay our welcome. And again, you really shouldn't keep part of yourself inside the portal like that."

Ravage emitted a drawn-out, "Awwww." He climbed up Starscream's frame and nudged past a wing. "I'll miss u, Terminator-scream!"

Starscream didn't know what or if Starscream loci replied. The world was drowned in a hazy nebula, strange sounds and visions and sensations enveloped every one of his sensors, for a split nano-klik Starscream thought he had seen the edge of the universe -- then he was back, under a sky he knew, in a city buried in his most treasured memories and worst nightmares.

He looked behind him. A spanner ring had been constructed on the once empty site, now cleared of rubble and surrounded by cloaking pylons. The portal turned in on itself and disappeared.

Starscream picked Ravage off of his shoulder and set him on the ground. "Terminator?" he asked.

"It's an Earth robot," Ravage explained, "with guns and cool black visors. Soundwave found it in a broadcast."

"Terminator-scream?" Starscream tried not to laugh as he repeated the designation.

"I need something different 2 call u 2! And u rly should see him totally crush Autobots."

---

Starscream maneuvered through the week half distracted. Bumblebee thought he'd be worked up undoing all of what Good Starscream did even if he agreed with roughly a quarter of the decisions that came to pass, but no -- he didn't even rescind the Carcer proposal.

"So, what happened?" Bumblebee straight-up asked.

Starscream scrolled through a selection of blues without hearing.

Bumblebee asked again. Starscream carefully inspected an azure and matched it against the white he had picked out an hour ago.

"The new frame is nice," said Bumblebee. That, surprisingly, only got him a small shrug in return.

Bumblebee huffed. "Vortex thinks you're in love."

Starscream nearly flipped over the desk. "What?"

"I can't tell. Have you been in love before? Vortex just says you've been uncharacteristically nice to Windblade. And Wheeljack. And --"

A data-pad sailed through Bumblebee's head. Bumblebee went on unphased. "But Vortex reads too much into the wrong direction and that wasn't you last week. You've been acting weird since you got back though. What's going on?"

"Don't you know? You're part of my mind," Starscream grouched.

"I'm not. I already told you."

Starscream still didn't believe it. The inquiry ended there. Starscream was back to ignoring him. After having no one to acknowledge his existence for an entire week Bumblebee wasn't inclined to lose a fight for Starscream's attention against paint.

"Are you going to do anything about --"

"Do you ever miss the war?" Starscream said seemingly apropos of nothing.

Instead of the instinctive no, Bumblebee processed it for a beat. "Maybe," he said at last. "Things weren't good. But they were…..simpler."

And he had his friends. Friends who somehow drifted away when peace came.

"Yeah." Starscream leaned back, propped his thrusters on the desk, tucked his hands behind his helm and stared up at the ceiling. "I never thought governing a bunch of soft-spark thin-plated NAILs can be even more insufferable than commanding the Decepticons -- half of those glitches can't follow orders for life, literally. But they had to do what I say, and I can shoot whoever doesn't. Simple."

"You serve the people, not the other way around, Starscream."

"Sure feels that way. And I don't get paid enough for it."

"No, I mean you're supposed to do what the people ask of you. They're not your soldiers. They're everyday bots who want to have a home and live a normal happy life and they let you borrow power to give them that."

Starscream said nothing for a couple of seconds. Then, "I have no idea what either of these things are."

Bumblebee rolled his optics and chose to play along. "A home is a place where you keep your things, and recharge and eat in private. It usually involves a roof and a floor and several walls."

"Exactly!" Starscream waved one hand in the air. "I have been constantly supplying my ungrateful citizens with all of those and more. They have everything they need to survive. They complain, I give them more room. They keep on complaining, I give them more energon. They still complain, and I don't understand why. I need them to get out of the way for my projects, and because I listen to misguided Autobots I offer them another accommodation, just as well-equipped as the last, and they refuse to move. Their house gets destroyed by undead titans and I have to recreate it perfectly? What kind of ridiculous demand is that?"

"Well….a home is a bit more than a place to rest. People become attached."

"To what? Things are lost or destroyed all the time, why is it so hard to understand the concept of getting a replacement?"

"So, if a Dinobot teleports in, trashes your office, stomps on your crown, swallows it, and teleports away, you'll be totally fine?"

Starscream snickered. "I'll be angry. But I can fix any damage caused by a Dinobot rampage and get a new crown."

"What if it's something that can't be replaced?"

"Anything can be replaced."

"A city? Or Cybertron?"

That gave Starscream pause. But he was firm in his stance. "You make do with what you have now. As long as you live, there's always a possibility of getting back what you lost. Or something better."

The conversation fell into a lull. Bumblebee was thinking. Starscream kicked his thrusters off the desk, finished picking out the blue, and dug into actual work. He broke the silence a few hours later. Night had slipped by and the sun was rising.

"What do I have to do to get 'normal happy life'?" Starscream asked. It didn't seem to be addressed towards anyone in particular.

Bumblebee took the question. "Stop being a glitch and cede your office?"

"I mean for the dolts down there."

Bumblebee repeated his answer. Starscream chucked a data-pad towards him.

"I don't think you don't have it in you to run the planet well," Bumblebee explained, "but this isn't what you really wanted, and you're not really what they wanted."

"The masses are fickle, Bee. I give them what they need."

"You can't decide what people need for people."

"I can. If they don't accept it, it's their problem."

Starscream stood up, stretched, and downed an overnight energon cube by way of getting ready for the oncoming day.

---

Windblade realized too late where the coordinates Starscream sent her led to. A sword came her way. She caught it by the hilt.

"What's this?" she asked calmly. At this point, Windblade was 80% sure nothing Starscream does can surprise her anymore.

"Sparring," came the reply.

"Why?"

"Office work was getting boring. I need something to stop myself from snuffing out the sparks of the idiots who send me data-pads to read."

Windblade looked at the ring Starscream was standing in with immense uncertainty.

"If I want to kill you, it wouldn't be this obvious," Starscream said exasperatedly. "Remember? In public, with witnesses, and I'll be --"

"I remember. And I am completely assured right now."

"Aw, you've picked up sarcasm," Starscream cooed. "Don't worry, these are made for training." He brought one of his own swords down on his arm. The edge of the blade passed through. A scoreboard, formerly unnoticed by Windblade, recorded one point to her side. "They touch everything except living Cybertronian," Starscream explained.

Windblade examined the blade in her hand. It felt heavier than what she would expect of training swords, but Starscream was the kind of bot to prefer realism in combat simulations.

"Why me?" she asked.

"You're one of the few bots who actually knows how to use these things."

"Don't the Decepticons --"

"And one of the very few bots that I'm on non-murdering terms with."

"I'm…flattered?"

"As you should be."

"You're not planning to assassinate someone, start another war, that sort of thing?" Windblade prodded again.

"Come on, I have a lot more tact than that," Starscream pushed back with dramatic incredulity. "This is just for fun."

"Fun? Sparring being your definition of fun?"

"Why is it not?"

"It's hard work and practice," Windblade stepped into the ring. "But I appreciate you sharing your hobby with me."

"I don't have hobbies," Starscream protested.

Windblade smiled. "Then I appreciate you sharing your downtime with me."

Starscream muttered something. It sounded like "Primus you made it worse".

"I mostly follow Camien forms," Windblade flourished her blade, "but I've also studied some Cybertronian martial art traditions. Which school of swordsmanship are you proficient in? Ancient Great Sword, Golden Age Longsword, Circle of Light, Circle of Light Dai Atlas Great Sword Variation, Star Saber….?"

Each mention was met with a blank stare. Windblade stopped, a little embarrassed. She wouldn't claim to be an expert, but she trusted her knowledge (and the time spent) on the subject to be highly adequate. She definitely wasn't making anything up. What esoteric style Starscream must have learned to exhaust her purview.

Starscream replied flatly, "The gladiator school of sock 'em in the face and run it through their chest."

"Ah. I, um, think I can keep up with that."

"Please do," said Starscream, just before the light of his blade fell across Windblade's face.

From what she knew of Starscream, Windblade expected him to strike with swift precision and serpentine grace. His attacks pressed upon her like a battering ram. There was no calculation, no negotiation, no rhyme or flow to his moves, only direct and savage advances upon his opponent. It didn't suit him, not just in the way it ran contrary to how he does everything, especially the way he flies, but also in that it left him vulnerable in places where it would bad to suffer a hit, most glaringly of all his wings.

Despite the shortcomings to Starscream's move set, it wasn't easy to counter. Starscream was still fast, and he was keener to tell when and where Windbalde was losing control than Windblade herself. Her guard broke. Windblade shut her optics as dual swords passed through her arms and across her neck. The scoreboard beeped.

"That was a stupid thing to do," Starscream said with no indication that he was in a very exerting engagement just a second ago. Windblade's fans were running high. "Need a break?"

"I'm fine," Windbalde bent over, counted to ten, and straightened up.

"Are you sure?" Starscream looked over her skeptically.

Windblade nodded. Her voice box was a bit staticky.

"Stubbornness will be the death of you," Starscream sighed performatively.

She was improving. Starscream scored again, but Windblade had been able to get a few counter-strikes in. By now she had a rough grasp of Starscream's weaknesses. His attacks were fierce, but they were mundane and unsustainable. One delay in the tempo would be enough for Windblade to land a blow to the various openings Starscream neglects to cover.

"Attack like you're going in for the kill. I know you've had that thought more than once," Starscream advised.

"It was only once, and in poor judgement," Windblade argued.

"Don't deny your violent urges."

"I don't have any."

Starscream made it clear that he didn't believe it.

"I haven't had any in a while," Windblade corrected.

Round three. Windblade went on the defensive and waited for her chance. It came. She ducked low, Starscream missed, her sword went up, catching a white wing, and a line of energon arced through the air.

Windblade stared at her stained blade, uncomprehending. Then she dropped it like hot iron. "You lunatic!" she shouted.

Starscream touched his wound and winced. "Not bad."

"You gave me a real sword!" Windblade didn't know whether to slap the madmech or help him. She bolted for the first-aid kit, slammed the box down in front of Starscream, and dug out everything useful for stopping bleeding.

"You're welcome," said Starscream.

"I could have killed you!" Windblade tore open a pack of absorptive material and aggressively stuffed it into Starscream's hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. If I really had gone so soft as to let that happen then I probably deserve to die."

Windblade's anger waned considerably. "Don't say things like that."

"Like what?"

"Nobody deserves to die."

"Not even me? Most of the universe seems to think so."

"And since when did you start caring about what most of the universe thinks?"

Starscream grinned. "Point."

Windblade pulled out a patch from the first-aid kit. It was definitely too small for the mark she left on Starscream's wing. "I'm so sorry."

"It's just a scratch," Starscream shrugged. The action jostled his wound and elicited a flinch. "You're not suppose to come out of sparring squeaky clean. Good job. You did better than I thought. On another note, you should get me a medic. This is leaking a lot."

Flatline came within minutes. He welded up the cut, smoothed out the wing, and even applied a layer of topcoat. He never asked what happened, but when exiting past Windblade, he stopped.

"Finally got fed up?"

Windblade seized up, scandalized and embarrassed. "It was an accident!"

"Sure," Flatline intoned impassively. "I say this for the good of him and you: don't enable him."

The doctor was gone before Windblade could fully understand what that meant.