Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is of a twisting wonder,

Why children love their mothers.

…

It was twisting and turning, the waters of the world. Rumble found himself staring into it like a child in a trance. There was something down there. Something he couldn’t make out because the waters refused to still and be calm. Part of him wanted to kick the liquid so he could leave this strange, shivering, wooden dock he was perched upon like a gargoyle. This place was starting to scare him for some reason. He wasn’t sure why, but it was like a dreaded truth was rising to the surface and being realized. He had no idea what the truth was or how to counter it. So he was left to continue watching the water.

The cassette huffed and was about to stand and leave after a few minutes, but all of a sudden a collection of bubbles rose to the surface like popping jellyfish. With a dimming of his optics, the mini-sized Deception leaned his face a little closer to the surface of the troubled waters, the surrounding fog clouding up his visor. He squinted as excitement dripped through his spark. Was a squishy drowning? Did they have cement boots like in all those gangster movies or was it just a dumb squishy that didn’t know how to swim? After a moment or two the bubbles ceased leaving a blue like substance on top the waters. The small Decepticon’s visor glowed in curiosity as he decided that he was going to reached a hand down to touch it. Yeah, Soundwave told him that touching strange materials was ‘ill advised’ but Rumble had no worries. It looked to be nothing more than energon.

With a sigh of his intakes Rumble leaned forward, his fingers almost ready to touch the substance when there was a splash of water, a rusting hand grabbing him and pulling him under. He screamed out in shock yet there was no sound but a garble as water rushed into his intakes. He had been pulled into the water. He wasn’t sure by what, but he could see a rusting and sea life covered hand … It-it wasn’t Cybertronian.

With a grunt, the small mech managed to pull one of his hands free and transform it into a pile driver. He slammed his weapon down onto the offending body part and watched with amazement as it crumbled on the first shot, sea life scattering from the hole as crusty metallic bits fell into the dark sands below. Wasting no time, the cassette turned in the waters with ease ready to attack the source of the hand. Instead, he went stock still, bubbles rising around him as he stared at the figure floating between the forests of kelp and seaweed.

It was like a forgotten statue.

Rumble’s spark slammed painfully against his spark casing as a ray of light shivered down into the waters below, revealing the thing in all its magnificent horror. He could just make out the blue armor where the rust had not eaten away like a parasite; there was one remaining red faded optic while an eel made its home in the other one; and the play button on his abdomen was now a home for hiding crab.

“S-soundwave?” was what Rumble could whispered into the water, bubbles rising and taking the sound away.

Unfortunately, before the small Decepticon could even reach a hand outward, something reach down into the water with blinding speed and started to pull him to the surface and away from his creator. With a splash of water and a gasp of his intakes, the blue cassette found himself thrashing as he was pulled back onto the docks. Yet, as he onlined his optics, ready to curse, he noticed that Frenzy and his fellow cassettes were merely looking down at him with faded red optics.

Rumble quickly sat up, latching onto his twin’s arm. “Frenzy! Soundwave’s down there! He’s down there! Bro help me get him out of there!”

His fellow cassettes merely stared at him for a moment, their optics nor faces giving away any emotion.

“Guys? GUYS! What’s wrong with you? Soundwave’s down there!”

The stares just continued as if he had said nothing.

The blue cassette got to his trembling feet and stared at them in turn. It was like theses weren’t his siblings. It was as if they were merely ghosts, drones that had wandered in from the fog.

“I-if you aren’t ganna help me then I’ll do it myself!” said the small Decepticon as he headed for the end of the dock, ready to jump in when a red pair of hands grabbed him and started to pull him away, his metal heels squealing against the dock. Strangely, for some reason, he couldn’t stop them as they pulled him into the mists and away from the waters. No matter how much he cried, kicked and struggled he wasn’t able to stop them.

“Soundwave!”

“Soundwave!”

“SOUNDWAVE!”

All of a sudden something latched onto his shoulder and he found himself lashing out with a cry, trying to rid himself of the sudden attack. The mass pulled back for a moment as if in shock, only to return, pinning him down successfully. This only managed to frighten the cassette worse and his struggling was soon joined with cries of horror.

“Rumble: Desist.”

With a whining sound, Rumble stopped struggling as his vents fought to cool his form. What had just happened? Was that a dream? It wasn’t real, was it? … But the weight on his chest was real. That much was certain. With a shivering breath of his vents, Rumble onlined his optics.

For a moment he just stared up at his creator’s visor praying that this wasn’t a dream too. After a cycle, once he was sure it was his creator sitting on the edge of the berth staring at him, soft sobbing clicks started to escape the creation. The cassette was at first shocked by the sudden weakness that had escaped his spark, and he did all that was in his power to stop the clicking from becoming full blown crying. Yet, despite his will, the fresh energon tears still came, pouring down his cheeks in a merciless manner. The twin quickly tried to pull himself away so he could go find a place to hide his growing shame, but as soon as Soundwave let him up Rumble found that his creator wouldn’t allow him up escape. Even when Rumble turned his head to hide his shameful tears, the larger Decepticon merely clutched the creation’s chin and forced him to look at him.

“Let m-me go, S-click-soundwave,” choked the creation as he struggled weakly against the larger blue fingers, the metallic scraping making Ravage’s ear shifted as she continued to slumber on the other side of the berth.

With a sigh of his engines, the Communications Officer quickly wrapped his fingers around Rumble’s waist as he pulled his creation into his lap. He then started to rub the small hell-fire’s back with his thumb trying to comfort him. His creation soon gave up trying to hide his tears and fell into soft quiet sobs as he buried his face into the older mech’s chassis. Soundwave did not stop him. He could feel that his creation’s mind was deeply troubled at the moment and being close to his creator’s spark would calm him down.

“Conclusion: A nightmare?” said Soundwave in his usual tone, allowing only a little emotion through. “What was it about?”

“N-nothing, b-boss,” murmured the smaller Decepticon as he latched his fingers onto his creator as if he was afraid that the elder mech would suddenly disappear. “It was nothin’.”

The Third in Command didn’t press the matter. If the nightmare persisted he’d just observe his creation’s mind one night during recharge. If not, he’d hack it up to nothing but a bad memory purge. It was something that nagged onto his processor from time to time. It was not a wide known fact, but most of his creations were young. No older than that Bumble-brat the Autobots had. Well, except Ravage. She had been an only child for a while there, which probably explained her short temper towards the rest of the siblings from time to time.

=He’s in recharge,= came a voice in the back of Soundwave’s head.

He quickly looked up startled that he had dived so deeply into his thoughts that he had forgotten to observe his surroundings. It was then that he noticed that Ravage was now sitting next to his leg on the berth, looking at Rumble with her ears back in a worried manner. The creator followed his other creation’s gaze. Rumble had fallen back into recharge, curled against his creator’s chest like a sparkling.

=What was the little slagger remembering? Isn’t it more Frenzy’s style to have those little recharge terrors?= continued Ravage as she looked up into her creator’s visor.

“Observation: True.”

=What was it about Soundwave? If something throws Rumble into a fit, we should worry,= said the cat as she nuzzled Soundwave’s elbow, trying to get his spare hand to offer her some attention. The spare hand complied and soon a soft purring filled the dim room.

“Recommendation: No need to worry. If the dreams persist, I will interfere,” replied the older mech as he rubbed his mind softly against all of his creations in the room, earning a collection of soft murmurs and squawks. None of the others seemed to be having troubled dreams and for that he was glad. He wasn’t known for his emotions, but he’d be hell bent before he allowed something to harm his creations, mentally or otherwise.

=Whatever you say. Now, I recommend you get some recharge too. You didn’t even notice I was up until I was on top of you,= murmured his eldest creation as she nudged her creator’s shin with her nose, trying to get him to move. The blue mech decided to comply. It was not often that Ravage meddled in his sleeping habits, being so fond of the darkness herself, but when she did decided to nag him than he certainly was in need of some.

=I recommend the chair for now. It seems that everyone is being a berth hog tonight,= said the cat as she gave her sleeping siblings a quick glance before jumping off the berth soundlessly and onto the floor. She then headed over to the chair in front of the Communication Officer’s desk, giving it a look as if saying ‘sit’.

With a nod, he looked back down at the blue creation on his lap and pulled Rumble into his arms, trying not to stir his creation. Rumble’s head just slumped noiseless against his creator’s shoulder, not even stirring when the mech sat down and leaned back into the chair. Ravage waited until the boom box was still and then leapt into his lap where she curled her tail around Rumble’s foot before starting her recharge cycle again.

Soundwave gave Rumble one more pat on the back before he started his recharge cycle as well. He had no idea what he’d ever do without his creations or what they’d do without him.

Chapter Text

It is a little known fact among humans, but Cybertronians can dream. However rare it may be.

Now, they don’t have dreams, per say, where one goes to work or school naked, but they have them nonetheless. It’s just that their dreams are more like memories that their CPU has decided to replay. Only significant memories are replayed and repaired.

One can only hope that their most important memories aren’t about paperwork for that would be dreadfully dull.

Yet, there are those rare occasions where a Cybertronian dreams something that is not a memory, but something more creative like a human would have. It has been whispered that these kinds of dreams should never be taken for granted, because they are whispers of Primus himself. But that is a saying only remembered by the older mechs who still recalled days before the war and Megatron.

Those were the days when a star still gave light to Cybertron.

…

“Rumble?”

“Rumble?”

“Yo, bro. Wake up!”

A yelp escaped the recharging (well, he had been recharging) cassette as something slammed against his aft.

Rumble quickly sat up, rubbing his bum as he glared sleepily at a red visor.

“Not funny, Frenzy. My aft is still kind of sore from last week when that slaggin seeker kicked me,” grumbled Rumble as he quickly looked around the room. Huh? Where was Soundwave? The Communications Officer had been with him last night, hadn’t he? Or had that been part of the dream as well? Maybe he really hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of his creator.

“Soooo where’s Soundwave?” asked Rumble nonchalantly.

Frenzy was still for a moment. It wasn’t the question itself that made the other stall. It was how he had said it. He didn’t say ‘the boss’ for once in his entire existence and, also, they weren’t in trouble so there was no reason to use Soundwave’s direct title. An evil grin pulled itself on Frenzy’s lips before he gained a fake pouty lip.

“Awh, is the little Rumble-baby sad and need a hug from daddy?” mocked the red twin as he put his hands out in a mocking embrace. “Cume cwy on Fwendzy’s shoulder until he cumes back.”

The blue mech went still for a moment. So that had happened last night. Great, now he was bound to be mocked by his siblings for the next three vorns. Not to mention the fact that Soundwave was probably going to constantly be on his mind. Literally. He had done it to Frenzy after they had woken up on Earth. The cassette had been afraid to go back into recharge in fear that he wouldn’t wake up for another million years. Soundwave practically knew all their pranks before Frenzy had even thought of it because of that as well. The first few weeks on the Nemesis were strangely quiet. So quiet that Megatron had actually thought the two twins had offlined. Well, at least until they made the warlord’s chair squeak with the squawking of live geese. Ah, the near death experience was worth it. There was no doubt, in any of the cassettes’ minds, that the only reason Frenzy and Rumble were still alive was because of Soundwave’s unwavering loyalty … and because Starscream was a prick.

Speaking of pricks.

A yelp cascaded around the room as Rumble tackled his brother making a loud clang as the two struggling bodies fought on the berth. Soon, the wrestling match became an all-out punching fest which was quickly followed by biting.

“Owh,” cried Rumble as he pulled away from his brother who now had a slightly cracked visor. “You bit me you fraggen Ravage impersonator. Gah, this might get infected.”

Frenzy ignored his brother’s comment and sat up taking off his visor in order to check its integrity. There was a huge crack in it now. In fact, with a loud crack, the thing shattered and scattered like leaves to the wind. The two twins sat there a moment just staring at the glittering pieces on Frenzy’s lap. Then the two looked at each other as if they were two wild dogs deciding if the other was a threat or not. The stillness only hung for a moment or two before Frenzy’s optics gained a glare.

“Y-you broke my visor. I have a shift in less than a groon, slagger!”

“Well, you bit me. I might have viro-rabies now.”

“What! At least you can go to Hook with somethin’ like that. If I went to Hook he’d see my optics and … they are all I have left of before the war. Something that isn’t a soldier.”

Rumble suddenly wilted as he stared at his brother for a while. It was one of the recruitment requirements of a Decepticon, and Autobot too. You had to change your optics. It was a well-kept secret that mechs with visors cherished their old colored optics for it allowed them a glimpse into the past, to a time before the war. So it was easy to say that Soundwave didn’t wear his visor for the reason’s everyone thought. He could hide his emotions just fine without the assistance of a visor or mouthpiece.

With a sigh, enjoying an optic color that wasn’t red or blue for once, Rumble reached a hand forward and cupped his brother’s cheek, watching the colored light from Frenzy’s optics play on his hand. It was like touching an antique or the past itself.

“Calm down, bro,” said the blue brother calmly as he watched the light. “We’ll just do what we always do: find Soundwave.”

“Yah, but he’s with Megatron’s on the command deck.”

Rumble suddenly wilted at this news, but then an evil grin spread on his face, “Well, dear brother, never fret. There’s always the air ducts … and the medical supply closet. Let’s go shopping.”

The red cassette ignored the bad impersonation Rumble had failed to pull off and stated, “Didn’t old Meg’s forbid us from going in those ever again after the squirrel prank?”

“Yah, good times,” said Rumble nostalgically before he jumped past his brother and over the gap to Soundwave’s desk. He then scaled up the furniture and to the duct before turning back to his brother. “Has that ever stopped us before?”

A few loose screws later and the troublesome twosome was crawling along. Rumble was at the front with a pout-face on. Frenzy had continued to mock him about his ‘bonding’ session with Soundwave last night. Despite himself, Rumble refrained from kicking backwards. Normally, he’d do it without a second thought, but with Frenzy’s visor gone he ran the risk of accidently kicking out an optic. So banter it was.

“Well, at least I didn’t cry when I watched Bambi!” jabbed Rumble in retaliation.

“I didn’t cry! There was something in my optic!” yelled Frenzy. “Besides, I’ll show you what real crying is! You’ll be crying for mercy when I catch up to your aft!”

Rumble merely laughed and started crawling faster, but regardless of the fight he was presently having, the cassette never ignored a single duct. He kept peaking ahead to make sure they didn’t missing any turns. He had learned from experience that duct crawling wasn’t as safe as one would think. There were a lot of decaying ducts and one misstep may leave you lost forever.

Yet, when one is peaking, they can suddenly see something they don’t want to.

Rumble froze, his smile turning into one of awe and disgust. He barely even noticed when Frenzy’s head slammed into his aft he was so horrified. He didn’t even flinch when his brother started crawling over him to see what was so entertaining.

“Yo, bro! I’m yelling at you! Pay … a … attention … ugh!” Frenzy cried out and slammed his hands over his optics before crying out, “Nasty bro! Yah should have warned me, I’m down to my bare optics here. I could have gone blind. But … I can’t … look away.”

The red twin quickly pulled his hands away from his optics and peered down into the room below with his brother as the sound of metal rubbing against metal echoed about.

“Oh, Thrust, harder, HARDER!”

...

The two were once again crawling and neither was saying a word. Both had watched the entire outing in wonder. No, they weren’t innocent babes who knew nothing on the subject. It was just that they never expect those two to be getting it on. Generally, they’d use such information as blackmail, but the thought was far too disturbing to ever mention again.

“I-it was so wrong, but I couldn’t look away. I would have never thought of those two. Ugh, I’m going to ask if Soundwave will wipe those memories from my mind,” grumbled Frenzy as he stared at the cool metal beneath their fingers and how they made impressions in the dust.

“So … what did you remember last night, by the way?” said Frenzy suddenly as he stopped crawling forward. He couldn’t help but notice that Rumble twitched at the question though. It had taken orns for Frenzy to remember what his nightmare was about, yet Rumble remembered his right off.

“You mean your fat aft hoggin’ the berth! Course I remembered,” spoke the twin almost in a whisper, his form still though he still refused to look backwards at his brother.

“You know what I mean. You had a nightmare last night otherwise Soundwave wouldn’t have been holden’ yah that way when I woke up. I’d know personally, after all. Come on. What memory were you dreamin’,” said Frenzy softly. It was a weakness he didn’t like to state aloud, but his siblings never seemed to judge him for it. They understood.

“Well?”

Rumble was silent for a moment. His dream had scared him. Not only because of Soundwave’s fate in the dream, but because Cybertronians didn’t have dreams the way humans do. A mech’s CPU just didn’t slice together a collection of ideas that would put Wonderland to shame. A resting CPU could only recollect old memories. At least that’s what he had been told. Plus, he had this eerie feeling that only bad things would come if he were to say the truth.

“It was nothing important. Just old memories,” whispered Rumble, his vocalizer dragging. He didn’t want to lie to his sibling, but he just did. It just was not done. He never lied to Frenzy.

Frenzy stiffened as Rumble’s part of the bond shifted. Had he just lied to him? No, that couldn’t be. His bro told him everything, that’s why they always got into trouble together.

“Y-you just lied to me, didn’t you?”

“Pit-no. Now quit being a femme and lets go find Soundwave,” grumbled the cassette as he crawled forward, ignoring the glare that was burrowing into his back. Yet, when his crawling finally stopped, Frenzy pounced on his back, pinning his arms.

“Oy! What gives!” barked Rumble as he squirmed.

“You ain’t endin’ it that easily, slagger!” cried the attacker as he pressed down on Rumble’s back. “Tell me!”

“NO!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Pit, you will!”

The yelling continued until Rumble was able to get an arm loose, bringing an elbow up into his brother’s chest. A cry rang out, quickly followed by a rolling mass of two twins falling down an air ducts.

Soundwave had been typing away at the mainframe, the command center silent for once. Megatron had threatened Starscream’s wings earlier that morning so the Air Commander was typing away at another monitor, Megatron watching his back like a buzzard on a throne. It was easy to say that the first clang of metal nearly made every mech in the room jump.

“What was that?” said Megaton with a tint of venom in his vocals as he glared upward.

“It’s just this piece of crap you dare to call our base, oh Mighty Megatron,” stated Starscream sarcastically as he continued to type, not even looking up. He just wanted to finish his work and be on his way. He was this close to losing his wings today and didn’t want to tempt fate any further. Not that Megatron didn’t threaten them every other day, but since they had been having sour luck with the Autobots, Starscream was afraid that he might lose his wings a little longer than usual. It was not a well-known fact, but some fliers could go mad if they were grounded for too long.

Megatron’s optics dulled to a waning glow as he threw a look at Soundwave, ready to give him a command when the clang rang through the room again. It was twice as loud and it was getting closer. Yet, before even Starscream had a chance to complain, the clang rang again followed by a collection of louder vibrations.

“What is that?” said Starscream as he pointed his null rays at the ceiling. “Do you think we got an Autobot rat? If so, it’s probably one of Blaster’s parasites.”

Soon, muffled growling filled the room and before anyone could even comment, an air duct caved inward. A collection of dust and debris filtering into the room along with two small bodies, a loud grunt of pain echoing through the room as the two cassettes hit the floor with a clang.

Soundwave merely stood there wishing he didn’t have his facial plate on so he could pinch his nose bridge. It was days like these that he wished he would spank those two. It was a wonder why Megatron hadn’t shot them honestly.

It took control not to hiss when he spoke.

“Frenzy, Rumble: what are you doing here?” said Soundwave as if this was an everyday occurrence. There is some hindrance to being monotoned after all.

“To be stepped on,” threatened Starscream as he pointed his null rays at the twin terrors, his feet clamoring closer to the two as if he was readying himself to step on the cassettes. Yet, before he could take another step, he suddenly found Soundwave before him. The blue mech had his fist clenched and be it known to Starscream or not, was ready to start a brawl even if it was a very uncharacteristic thing for him to do.

“Enough,” said Megatron, his temper rising as he rose to his feet.

“You two,” Megatron pointed to the two midgets who were still on the floor. “Rise and tell me what the pit you were doing in the airways. I believe we discussed the possible punishments if you were caught again. So you better have a rather impressive excuse.”

Frenzy looked at Rumble, and the two just stared at each other in horror. They remembered the threat if they got caught again. Not a pleasant idea, but not as unpleasant as the idea of what Megatron was going to do if he saw Frenzy’s optics. It took some quick thinking, but Rumble came up with an idea.

=Play injured. Act like you shattered an optic or something. I’ll do the talking.= said Rumble through their bond connection.

“Mighty Megatron,” said Rumble as he rose to his feet, leaning to the side to make it look like he was helping his brother to his feet. “We apologize. It’s just that we were …. checking the ducts … to make sure they were secure from intruders.”

A grin threatened to pull itself on the leader’s lips once Rumble finished speaking. Not because he was happy with the two fools, but because he was going to find this entertaining.

“Intruders?” said Megatron as he took a lazy stance. “Did you find anything?”

Rumble got a disgusted look on his face when he recalled the Thrust incident. Well, he could tell old Megs that and probably get off the hook because the leader would be too disgusted to want to do anything but empty his tanks. He was sure there would be consequences later though. So he’d save that juicy tidbit for later.

“Um … not really, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” replied Rumble as he slowly started dragging his brother towards the exit. “We will be leaving now.”

“Yes, leaving,” added Frenzy with a hand over his optics.

Megatron’s optics brightened for a moment as he stared at the blind cassette. Apparently he was injured, but where was the bleeding? There wasn’t even a drop. Plus, that was why those two wore visors, to ignore injuries to the optics. And was it him or was that a different color of light coming from the wound? Had they been trying to sneak to the med-bays supply closet!?

“Going straight to the medical bay, yes?” added Megatron, rage starting to rise in his chassis at the realization.

“Uh, sure thing,” said Rumble, a strange feeling crawling up the back of his spinal column.

“Well, let me call Hook for you. I don’t see any energon so the injury must have pierced inward. Can’t have you bleeding to deactivation, can we?”

Rumble’s form tightened, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry from his creator’s spark as well. With a small whine of his engine, the cassette turned to his commander, voice shivering slightly as he spoke, “Don’t bother yourself my liege. We should get’ going.”

“No, no. Stay still, can’t be … irritating the injury,” growled the warlord, rage simmering as he focused on the light reflecting on the back of the red cassette’s hand. “In fact, you should let me look at it.”

A small whine escaped Frenzy causing Rumble to pull him a little closer. Soundwave was pooling into their sparks telling them to remain calm.

“That’s not n-necessary, Lord Megatron,” whispered the blue cassette, barely noting that was one of the first times he had actually called Megatron by his proper title in ages.

“I insist,” growled Megatron, leaning forward in his throne and baring his denta like a beast ready to pounce.

The blue twin’s head twitched. Rumble was going to throw a look over to his creator for help, but Megatron’s growl threw his gaze back towards the ruler.

“Now,” came a vented demand.

Slowly, fear rising in his chest, the blue twin removed his hand from his brother’s face. Frightened orange optics stared upwards onto the great leader in all his fuming glory. The Decepticon leader drew back in his seat with a disgusted huff, yet before he could even move his mouth to proclaim his judgment, Starscream was leaning on the headboard of Megatron’s chair, a mocking grin on his face.

“Well, look what we have here oh Mighty Megatron! It seems one of Soundwave’s pets isn’t as loyal as you thought it was,” laughed the flier. “Every mech knows that to be a loyal Deception, you must change your optics to red. It’s the law.”

A dry laugh escaped the flier and before Rumble could even move, the Second in Command had stepped forward, snatching the red cassette by his leg. Frenzy, of course, yelped and started throwing curses as he tried to free himself. Starscream countered the spunky spirit by putting a null ray to the smaller mech’s head, throwing a grin over at Soundwave.

“Here, Mighty Megatron, let me get rid of this traitor for you,” said the flier with a grin still looking at Soundwave instead of Megatron. He was going to enjoy this.

Megatron gave the flier an annoyed look, knowing all too well the strife between his Second and Third in Command. What really captured his attention though was a small whine of stressed metal. It was barely audible, but there was no doubt in his CPU where it came from. Soundwave. His servo’s gears were squealing slightly with how tightly his hands were fists. Megatron was honestly … surprised. It had been an incredibly long time since he had noticed any emotion what-so-ever leak from his Communication Officer, but those shivering fists could not be denied. Neither could the fact that Soundwave had betrayed him. Soundwave knew about the optics, there was no doubt in Megatron’s mind.

Slowly, Megatron’s gaze returned to the struggling cassette and the laughing seeker. Slowly, he placed his hand outward in a lazy way, palm up.

“Give him to me Starscream. I will not be deactivating such a loyal subordinate,” said the commander, not even an ounce of anger in his voice.

An aggravated look quickly covered Starscream’s facial plates. It figured that Megatron would come in and ruin his fun. Now, it was not an unknown fact amongst the crew of the Deceptions (pit, even the Autobots), but Starscream had a rather large amount of contempt for Soundwave. Yet, it wasn’t just because of the cassette player’s undying loyalty to Megatron that irritated him. It was his emotionless approach. Nothing got under that mech’s armor. Nothing. Not even Starscream’s jabs at the mech when he failed a mission.

Well, almost nothing, except the withering mass in his hand. The Communication’s Officer was soft when it came to his cassettes.

“But Megatron,” whined Starscream as he placed a hand on his hip, shaking the cassette as if he were a naughty puppy. “You’ve shot mechs for less. Primus, for all we know, he could be –”

“Give him to me Starscream!”

The flier huffed and dropped the small mech into the leader’s lap like a grocery bag. “Fine, but don’t whine to me when it turns out he’s an Autobot spy.”

Megatron threw an annoyed look from the flier, who was throwing a mocking look at Soundwave. Growling in irritation, he looked at the pile of cassette on his lap. Those orange optics were staring up at him, not even trying to conceal their fright. Frenzy knew the law … He knew all too well.

Megatron leaned lazily against his seat, head supported by his fist. He then took his spare hand and wrapped his fingers around the smaller mech, trying to pretend he didn’t notice the way Soundwave twitch when he did so. Yet, he didn’t crush the cassette. Instead, he dropped him on the metallic armrest so they were optic to optic.

“Tell me, Frenzy. Why have you betrayed the Decepticon cause?” said the leader, unable to look away from those orange optics. It had been a long time, a long time indeed since he had seen any other color but red and blue.

Frenzy’s head kept threatening to turn in the direction of his creator, but there was a whisper through the bond not to do so. Slowly, Frenzy looked at his commander and buried his worried expression as well as he could, dimming his optics to make the color less noticeable. Then, despite the want for him to remain silent, he spoke, “M-megatron, sir. I-I am not a traitor. I’m a loyal and proud Deception. I would never betray yah’ or my fellow cassettes.”

Megatron stared at the mech for a moment, his face giving away nothing. Then, with a groan of his engine, the large grey mech sat back, his eyes never drawing from the being before him. With cold calculations he finally spoke, “Is that so Frenzy? I will admit that you have always seemed to be rather loyal, but these … things … show that you still have distrust towards our cause.”

“No, sir. I don’t. I neva’h have. I’m loyal,” said the cassette, his hands starting to shake. Frag. He was going to die. He was going to die! Why wasn’t Soundwave doing anything?

“Are you now?” said the leader as he sat up straight before reaching out a hand to lift up the small cassette’s head so he could properly look at the little glass planes.

Frenzy could only nod to afraid to speak with his commander’s finger under his chin.

“Well, then, will you prove it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good,” said the leader, a grin forming on his face. “Then hold still.”

Frenzy opened his mouth, ready to ask what he meant, when one of Megatron’s thumbs came up and rubbed itself against the small mech’s cheek. It took rather a lot of self-control on Frenzy’s part not to twitch. This must have pleased his leader, because his smirk grew a little larger. So, when his thumb moved as if to pet Frenzy’s cheek once more, he didn’t twitch … until after his scream, accompanied with the sound of cracking glass.

The red cassette quickly pulled away from Megatron and grabbed for his now crushed optic, energon quickly running down his face like a dismay tear. Megatron couldn’t help but growl at the cassette’s show of weakness, his Second in Command’s laughter echoing in the background. Now, it wasn’t the cassette’s reaction to pain that irritated him, because, as far as he was considered, reactions to pain were a necessity. After all, a live mech was worth more than a dead one. What irritated him was the fact that the cassette had tried to get away. He had said he was loyal, but he just disobeyed a direct command from his leader.

Frenzy let out a frightened yelp, when all of a sudden he was violently grabbed around the waist by the larger mech’s hand. Then, the squeaking started as the gun transformer slowly started to crush the cassette in his hand.

Rumble … could not look away at this display. Behind his visor, his optics were bright as a thousand emotions, all at once, slammed into his chest. There was rage, fear, betrayal, pain, sadness, and need. He could not discern what emotions were his and which were his twin’s. All he could think of was the rumor that when one twin died … the other followed. Rumble couldn’t tell if he wanted it to be true or not. Frenzy and he were close, but they weren’t together all the time like other twins since Soundwave was constantly separating them for missions. Was this why Soundwave was always separating them? So if one died … the other would stay behind?

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the room, something giving way to the stress of Megatron’s grip. It was then that Rumble finally noticed that the room was now silent, except the soft choking sobs coming from his brother. Frenzy was now hanging limply from his lord’s hand.

“I was hoping not to have to do that, but you betrayed your word,” said Megatron smoothly as he watched small droplets of energon drip from Frenzy’s form and over his large fingers.

“I-I-I di-di-di-dn’t betray-y … guh … Lord-d, Megatron,” came a broken reply from the shivering cassette, a slow stream of energon now dripping down the side of his mouth.

“Oh, but you did. You said you wouldn’t move, but you did move. You tried to pull away from your punishment. You disproved your loyalty,” said the lord, his optics drifting to Soundwave for a moment before he turned his attention back to Frenzy. “But I am not unforgiving, Frenzy. Shall I give you a second chance?”

Frenzy struggled to lift his head, his metallic skeleton shivering from all the damage it had just received. Then, a sickening metallic noise filling the room as the cassette managed to nod his head, his voice broken, “P------please, my liege.”

“Good boy.”

No wailing filled the room as the second optic shattered under Megatron’s thumb. In fact, a soft ‘thank you’ filled the room as he placed the small solider on the floor with almost lovingness. It wasn’t untill Megatron was sitting back against his throne that he directed his attention to the other cassette. Rumble couldn’t help but draw away, a small whine echoing within his chassis. Was he next?

“Rumble,” said Megatron, his attention suddenly directed elsewhere than the two cassettes. “Take him to the repair bay and make sure he gets the right color for a Decepticon.”

The sound of scraping feet on metallic flooring was the only noise in the commander center beside an occasion chuckle from Starscream. Then, as soon as the door started to close, comforting whispers started to escape the blue twin. Soundwave couldn’t look away from the door, even after it had closed. Part of him was shaking with relief and the other side was enraged. He had been this close to attacking his leader. He couldn’t believe it himself. Never, in all his time serving Lord Megatron, had a thought like that escaped him. Never. Until today that is.

“Soundwave.”

The mech nearly jumped when he heard his name being said next to him.

“Lord Megatron,” replied the mech in his usual dry tone, trying to not show the surprise he had just experienced. He had been so focused on his injured creation that he had not even noticed Megatron’s rise from his seat. Yet, a little absent mindedness was the least of his problems. His lord seemed … upset.

A sigh escaped the commander as he threw a look at his Third in Command. Soundwave mentally stiffened. He expect a slap across the face or to have his own visor ripped away, but Megatron merely circled him, his hands locked behind his back.

“Soundwave,” said the commander as he circled around the back of the Communication Officer. “Do you know why you are not the Second in Command? Primus knows Starscream isn’t there for his loyalty.”

Starscream huffed in the background.

“Unknown Megatron: you know best as commander,” said Soundwave as he nearly jumped out of his armor. Megatron had just placed a hand on his shoulder, the warlords face coming into his peripheral vison.

“I do know best. It’s because I know Starscream holds the Decepticon cause foremost in his spark. So much so that he believes that he can fulfill its beliefs better than I,” said Megatron softly as he rose his metallic lips to whisper into the Communication Officer’s audios. “But I know that there is one thing that you are more loyal to than Decepticons and me.”

The grey commander threw a look at the door where the cassette had been moments ago, and then released his grip on Soundwave’s shoulder. Not another word was said as the titan sat back down, his red optics glowing ominously.

…

“Sorry about your optics,” said Rumble softly as he sat next to his brother on the berth, his feet hanging over the edge.

Frenzy did not reply.

“Yah, I know it was a dumb idea goin’ through the vents. I could have gone alone at least. It’s just that … that I’ve been feeling a little clingy.”

Frenzy still remained silent, but Rumble continued nonetheless.

“Yah, I know it’s dumb to be clingy like an Auto-tard, but … I had a dream, Frenzy. It was bad. In my dream, Soundwave he … Soundwave deactivated.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed over the room and Rumble went silent, Hook’s glare on him.

“What do yah want? I’ve been quiet and leaving yah alone,” grumbled Rumble as he tightened his grasp around his brother’s hand. Frenzy had been repaired under a groon ago, and since then Rumble had been at his side holding the offline mech’s hand. It was his fault Frenzy was in this state. It was his fault Frenzy had lost the last bit of him that wasn’t a soldier. Rumble could not describe the sickness in his spark knowing such a fact.

“Soundwave’s at the door. He wants you. Apparently, we are going out on an energy raid next earth cycle and with your brother out of commission, he needs you ready.”

Rumble had nothing to say. He just squeezed his brother’s hand.

Chapter Text

Rumble has left his brother, his hand still feeling his sibling’s cool metal between his fingers. It was as if he had never left the medical bay. He hadn’t wanted to leave and would have told almost anyone to frag-off, but for some nameless reasons he wanted to be closer to his creator. Perhaps if he asked Soundwave, the cassette rack would go and pick his bother up, allowing him to recuperate inside their master’s chest.

“What’s up boss!” cried the small being as he looked upward at his creator, glad to see that he didn’t contain any dents from a savage warlord. “We goin’ to torture some fleshies?”

Soundwave merely looked at his creation, knowing that the small being wanted to take his frustration out on someone. Not that he cared. Humans were not superior to mechs and not worth his time or energy to protect. He had larger problems right now. Megatron’s reaction had been … odd. It was not often that the cassette player worried about attracting his leader’s vain optic, but what had happened in the command room had been worrying. It would be best to put more effort into tomorrow’s raid in order to get away from his leader’s perilous gaze. That was why he had made particular plans for tomorrow.

Turning towards the direction of his room, he signed for his creation to follow him.

Soon, the cassette and master were in their quarters, the boom box heading over to his desk. Rumble quickly noticed that all his siblings were within the room, all looking at him with a judging optic. He didn’t dare share their gaze. They knew something had happened. They had felt it through their bond with Soundwave.

Finally, the eldest creation had decided that Rumble had ignored his siblings’ gazes long enough. Ravage quickly took authority over the situation, her bond silent only to Soundwave.

=Where is Frenzy?= she said simply, baring her teeth ever so slightly.

Rumble shrugged his shoulder before answering simply, =Around.=

Ravage wanted to growl, but kept herself silent since she did not want to upset her creator further. Soundwave did not upset easily, and when he did it was barely noticeable … at least to the younger creations that were still completely dependent on Soundwave. So, instead, she jumped off the berth and before Rumble could even squeak she was circling him like he was her next meal.

=You’ll have to come up with a better answer than that hellion. We deserve an explanation as to why Soundwave was upset earlier. Ratbat had been scared half to death= she growled over their connection, her teeth deciding to bare themselves.

Rumble stiffened as at this. Trying not to be obvious, he unhurriedly dragged his gaze over Soundwave. He didn’t look any different. =He sure doesn’t seem very upset to me. He didn’t even try to stop Megatron.=

Ravage’s low head sudden shot up as she caught on to what Rumble was saying. Her ears even rose upward as if listening. Rumble knew better. She wasn’t listening but actually feeling for Frenzy’s spark. She always seemed to say it in a joking manner, but all the cassettes knew that she expected Frenzy or Rumble to push Megatron’s patience a little too far one day. And that would be the end of them.

Only after a moment of minding Frenzy’s spark did she lower her ears and glared at the remaining twin. =And Soundwave’s choice was for the best.=

Rumble stiffened, betrayal filling his spark. Yah, he’d expect something like that from a fellow Decepticon, but from his own sibling?

=After all, it is best to lose one sibling then to have all of you offline due to Soundwave’s death. Megatron would have killed him if he interfered,= continued the cat before she made one last circle around her sibling, nuzzling him slightly with her cheek before she made her way over to the desk to see what tomorrow’s attack plan was.

Rumble just continued to stand there. Those words had stung. They were deep, cold, painful, and true. Rumble doubted that Ravage had meant for those words to trouble him so deeply, but what else could she expected? He was young and foolish. Yes, the cassette knew he could die, but a part of him always expected that if he couldn’t save himself Soundwave would. Her statement not only reminded him of his own morality … but of Soundwave’s as well. The cassette was now positive that he could hear the waves from those seaweed-filled waters calling for Soundwave’s corpse. Any feelings of hatred or remorse he had felt were quickly replaced with fear. Rumble wasn’t sure why, it had just been a dream, but the more he tried to reassure himself of that, the more frantically his spark started to pound against its casing. He tried to concentrate on the plans at hand, but his vents tried to increase in respiration as the fear clawed up his throat. The waves were growing louder, he could hear them just beyond to door. They were getting closer, he was sure of it. W-were those droplets under the door? The room was going to flood, wasn’t it? And then the seaweed would grab Soundwave and it would … it would –

Rumble took a step back as he was drug from his sudden madness when he felt gazes upon his shoulders. It was then that he realized that every pair of optics in the room was on him, the plans forgotten, and he had somehow become the object of attention. The cassette wilted when he felt even the youngest, Ratbat, nudge in a comforting manner against his spark through the bond. His bond had been wide open and his every feeling had seeped through like water through a sieve.

“S-s-sorry,” whispered Rumble very uncharacteristically as he blocked his part of the bond, his optics trying to look anywhere but up at their scrupulous gazes.

This, of course, did not distract the attention that was set on him. If anything, it only made everyone in the room more suspicious. It was common for Ratbat, given his youth, to sharing his fears, but for Rumble? Buzzsaw and Lazerbeak both gave conjoining squawks a moment later as if to say, ‘What’s wrong?’

“I said it’s nothin’,” hissed the younger sibling as a glare set itself at the bird-formers.

They were unconvinced and apparently the Communication Officer wasn’t either. He swiftly made his way over to the blue cassette and plucked him up by a small rail right behind his neck. Rumble merely hung there like a doll, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Like I said, it’s nothin’ Soundwave. I-I’m just worried about Frenzy is all,” said the cassette as he refused to look his creator in the visor.

A scan quickly fell over his form and Soundwave quickly replied, “Statement: Lie. Prepare for transformation and docking.”

“What! I am not a sparklin’! I don’t need to be treated like one. Put me down,” complained the cassette as he started to thrash his legs.

Soundwave just continued to stand there, waiting for Rumble to stop. Finally, after a cycle of useless kicking, the cassette gave up and slumped as best as a mech could while hanging. Soundwave just continued to stare at him patiently. After a minute of Soundwave’s ever peering gaze, Rumble threw his hands up crying, “Fine, whatever! But I tell yah it’s nothin’.”

Soon, a click filled the room and Soundwave placed his hand over his chest, his systems cooing Rumble into recharge and refueling. He stood stark still, searching the youth’s systems for injuries or viruses. In the end there was nothing. The fear had been completely emotional.

Turning back to his plans for tomorrows attack, the Communication Officer decided he’d have to talk to Rumble about it. They again, he could just get the information the easy way and steal it from his thoughts. He’d decide later Right now he needed to finish this work and guarantee his and his cassettes’ survival.

…

Rumble sat in his creator’s chest. The warmth of the larger mech’s spark beating in tune with his partial one. It was morning, there was no doubt about that, and Soundwave still hadn’t let him out. Part of him was wondering if the Communication Officer was even going to let him out for the upcoming battle with the way the larger mech was ignoring his begs for freedom. It was meant to be a caring action, but Rumble just found it irritating to be kept in the rack like a naughty sparkling.

Finally giving up on being released from his master, the cassette stopped pressing against his possessor’s bond and just listened. It was rare that he was ever alone in Soundwave’s chest. There was always the noise of his siblings blocking out the soft patter of the boom box’s spark. It was always calm. It never seemed too hurried nor to slow. It was steady. It was ever beating, a never changing aspect to the world. Never would it change, never could it disappear. It was his forever. It would exist beyond Rumble in death. He was sure of it. That beat would last forever ... It had too.

Soundwave was silent as he listened to Rumble’s spark soften and whisper up to his in a warm manner. His other cassettes all stared at him in wonderment, trying to understand why the Communication Officer had gone silent in the review for his battle plan. With a brightening of his visor, Soundwave looked down at his other cassettes.

“Tactics: understood? Current Obligation: Gather in the hall for Megatron’s orders,” said Soundwave simply.

There were a collection of caws and grumbles all meaning ‘yes’. Soundwave merely nodded towards the door and all his creations left in a hurry, soldiers in the hall running pass as everyone got ready for battle. Ravage lingered at the door for a moment though waiting for her master to follow. Yet, when she saw him place a soft touch to his chassis, she quickly departed knowing what would happen next was private.

=Are you calm enough to be allowed out, Rumble?= asked the creator through the bond.

Rumble was silent, a part of him recording that soft pattering sound. He had never done that before or even thought of recording his creator’s inner workings as if the sound were music, but it was so soft and lingering that he couldn’t stop himself. The notes of those inner devices were clicking up some type of story to him: the story of his creation, his purpose, and the meaning of life and battle. He didn’t know why, but he wanted that song in his mind forever.

=Yah, just give me a moment,= said Rumble, wanting to listen to the pumping of energon in Soundwave’s wires and the beat of a spark against its casing. Once he was sure he had gotten the sound recorded, he spoke again. =So, what’s the lowdown, boss?=

…

A battle was the lowdown, and it tasted wonderful. Rumble’s vents pulled in the choking stench of smoke and spilled energon like it was the perfume of an old lover. Yet, he could not stop and taste its sweet kisses against his vents. That would be a distraction. He still had the ever daunting music of the seaweed riddled waves in his helm after all. Then there was the sound of Frenzy’s screams as he was nearly crushed. They haunted him, but they couldn’t outweigh the explosions of battle right now: the cries of the dead and the dying; the static charge of readying weapons; the splash of energon falling to the ground in pools. Nightmares didn’t matter right now. He had a mission: attack the tactician. An army was nothing without a head on its shoulders.

Rumble was silent at the thought, his usual snickers lost to his pinched lips as he whisked past a distracted Ironhide’s legs. He was trying to draw closer to the inner sanctuary of the Autobot’s line of defense.

He finally slid to a stop behind a boulder, his visor shifting over those Auto-jerk’s bodies as he looked for a familiar back and white paint job. It didn’t take him long to find his target. Soundwave had commanded he attack the tactician, kill him if he could, but keep the strategist’s attention long enough so that Soundwave could draw out his own plan before Prowl could counter it.

Now, the only one that seemed to be a real problem was Ironhide. The red mech was a few yards behind him, but he was slowly moving farther into the chaos as Skywarp taunted him. Finally, that cackling slagger was doing something useful. He hated the flier. Slagger was always trying to step on him. Hopefully, Ironhide would shoot him.

Finally, Ironhide could take no more and ran towards the flier, shooting like a madman. Rumble allowed himself a soft chuckle, his route now open. He just needed to get to Prowl without interruption. Currently, the slagger seemed open, just standing there with no one to help protect him. Unless you counted the yellow bug, Bubble-dork or whatever his name was. Yet, Rumble had listened carefully to Soundwave’s words during his debriefing: watch those door wings. They were sensitive to changes in their immediate environment and would probably feel Rumble sneaking up on the tactician before the cassette could even get into attacking range. So he had to play a game of freeze-simultaneously-while-somehow-managing-not-to-get-shot. This would be twice as easy if Frenzy wasn’t still in the medical bay, but it was time to play lone wolf today.

Licking his lips components, Rumble got on his belly and started to crawl so he as hidden by the tall grass. Slowly, he made his way forward like a snake after a mouse’s tale. Suddenly, the mouse twitched and Rumble fell still like he was trying to play the part of a blue branch. Prowl’s door wings twitched for a nano-click, and then he continued talking to the yellow mini-bot. This was Rumble’s signal to continue forward after his prey. Just a few more yards and he would have sweet satisfaction.

So, after two additional wing twitches and paranoid glances from Rumble towards the surrounding Autobots, he was close enough to attack. He spared no time jumping to his feet, grinning like a maniac as he cried, “Hey, Auto-slang, ready to rumble!”

The shocked look on Prowl’s face was priceless. He had shot at the tactician plenty of times, but never had he seen real shock on that Autobot’s face. But he could lavish in that expression later. Right now he was going to make that slagger dance.

Prowl yelped as he fell backwards, the ground shivering under his feet as the cassette started an onslaught with his pile drivers. Why hadn’t he felt the cassette approaching? His sensors weren’t malfunctioning so how could he possibly have missed the pint sized pain? Prowl growled in irritation. He didn’t have time for this.

“Prowl,” came a voice from his communication link. “We have a problem. Soundwave’s cassettes are doing something odd and we –”

The rest of the conversation was lost to the enforcer as a large shiver raced up his legs, the ground suddenly giving way. He plummeted into the earth, his arms getting torn up slightly by the pointed rocks on the ground as he struggled not to fall into the sinkhole. He growled in his throat as he looked up to see those ground pounders still going full swing. That was troubling. He didn’t need this hole sucking him down. Then again, Rumble didn’t see a certain yellow twin plummeting from the sky as Skywarp bucked him off. For the first time ever, Prowl was glad to see Sunsteaker.

“Come on Auto-dork, let’s see you sink. Try to get back up. I dare - ophf!”

Rumble suddenly found the ground over his head and the sky at his feet. Sadly, he was reminded of his true place as he crashed to the ground in a thud, his armor buckling in some places as rocks decided to taste his metallic flesh. He laid there a minute in a daze, but Rumble quickly found himself rolling as quickly as he could as a yellow foot stomped where he had just been laying. Not that he got to taste his small victory as Sunstreaker brought his other foot down into his new resting place.

“Slagger’s worse than Skywarp,” grumbled Rumble as he dodged another hefty kick; yet, before he could dodge again, he suddenly found himself thrown against a stone wall, a yellow foot coming down. “Slag.”

Soundwave nearly bucked as he felt Rumble’s part of the spark cry out in agony. He threw a gaze at his other creations and their successful gathering of energon cubes. There was a small electric grid about a mile from the battle. Everyone thought they were after the fuel refinery, which Megatron was after in truth, but not Soundwave. He would get that much needed energy, even if he had to play a game of steal-and-not-tell from a different location.

Keeping himself together, Soundwave turned to Ravage, “Rumble is in need of assistance: Continue with the gathering.”

Ravage twitched her tail, but turned back to her work thinking it was nothing since Soundwave wasn’t making a big deal of the situation. Frenzy might just have a berth mate for a few days in the medical bay. Not that she minded … The only way those two stayed out of trouble was if they were injured.

Soundwave made his way across the battle field, his stride wide and confidant, his mind touching everyone near. He had to make sure that no one had him on their mind. If no one was thinking about him the likability that he would be shot was fifteen percent, and that was if a stray shot came his way. Yet, as his campaign drew him nearer and nearer to his destination, he couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. He had placed a lot of responsibility on Rumble, but Frenzy still wasn’t stable enough to be moved so a two person job turned into a one person job.

Rumble had probably been attac-

Soundwave suddenly dodged to the side as a collection of limbs rolled in front of him, cursing and punching. He only had time to stare for a moment as Optimus Prime slammed a fist into Megatron’s facial plate. Yet, a scream called him away from the grunting pair as Optimus struggled to keep Megatron’s fusion cannon away from his head. Not even a dozen yards away was Rumble … being crushed by the foot of the yellow front-liner, Sunstreaker.

With quick calculating movements, Soundwave managed to break through the weak defense like a deer leaping over a fence. Then, quietly sliding to a halt, taking his gun out, he carefully placed it against the yellow mech’s jetpack fuel cells. Sunstreaker suddenly stalled. Slowly, the twin turned his head, dentals bared.

“Recommendation: Release Rumble,” state the Communication’s Officer simply, his mind dancing over the area as he waited for someone to come to the yellow mech’s aid.

With a roar of his engine, Sunstreaker lifted up his foot revealing a heavily damaged Rumble. Soundwave didn’t seem worried though. The cassette didn’t appear to be leaking large amounts of energon and the dents could always be banged out as long as the limbs were still attached.

“Rumble: Stasis?” said Soundwave as he ground the gun into the fuel filled device a little more making Sunstreaker twitch.

Rumble stared as if he didn’t comprehend what his creator said. Then, with a shivering hand, he reached up to feel his visor. A stupid little grin rose on his face, and he gave his creator a thumbs up while stating, “My visor’s still intact and that’s all that matters, boss.”

Soundwave, if he had the ability, would have rolled his optics. Figures, the little slagger was more worried about his visor that his body. It was going to take him all night to repair the blue cassette. He’d worry about that later. Right now he had to get his creation out of here.

Slowly, dragging the point of his pistol down the yellow Front-liner’s back, he brought the pistol point into a seam in the lower back making the Autobot flinch. He then pressed painfully, letting the mech before him know that one wrong move would sever his spinal supports and down him.

“Initiative: Hand Rumble to me or lose the ability to move your legs,” said the boom box to Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker merely growled, but an extra hard jab between those critical plates made Sunstreaker stiffened. Slowly, he leaned forward to do as he was told. His fingers twitching as he slowly started to pick up the smaller being, careful as not to insinuate Soundwave’s wrath.

“You have such soft hands, Autobot,” mocked the cassette as he gripped Sunny’s thumb. “Always knew that rumor that you were a femme was true-eck!”

Sunstreaker nearly crushed the cassette, but the hum of a charging weapon made him loosen his grip to the point of dropping the smaller mech. Instead, he growled, “Watch out pipsqueak. Next time I see you … you’re dead for that comment.”

“Tuh, whatever you say, femme. There’s no way a mech goes through that much wax. I swear you’ve blinded a few people with how bright your paint job is,” said Rumble as Soundwave reached a hand outward to take the cassette … only to stop.

Soundwave turned his head to the left once he noted that two mechs had him on their minds. Both Prowl and Bumblebee were a few yards away, the latter having pulled Prowl out of the hole. They were now staring at the slowly forming hostage situation before them, their fingers twitching to grab their guns. Soundwave, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to just walk away with Rumble, grabbed Sunstreaker by the shoulder and turned him to face his companions. Sunstreaker was now a living shield.

The yellow mech growled his engine at his new position, but followed the Decepticon’s directions nonetheless. He was just hoping Bluestreak was nearby and taking aim. He was going to lose his legs regardless, he could feel it. He would then be stuck in the medical bay for mega-cycles on end. The Front-liner had never had his spinal supports damaged but Sideswipe had while on Cybertron. The scream that came from his brother had echoed over the world and nearly caused Sunny’s spark to halt. Sideswipe had been in so much agony that the medic physically knocked him unconscious because the sedatives weren’t acting fast enough. Side had then lain on the same berth for days, his engine whimpering from time to time because the pain receptors in that region could never be completely turned off. Primus, those had not been kind days.

“Keep moving,” stated Soundwave in his usually cold tone, his feet slipping slightly as he headed backwards down the slope, one hand tight on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Not that he paid the earth much mind. He was going to get all his creations out of this battle alive, especially Rumble. The youth had been acting strangely as of late and probably would be unable to perform to his full potential due to his emotional state. Perhaps, once they returned to the base, he would take the cassette aside and speak with him while repairing his armor. The boom box generally wasn’t a big talker, but he could tell his creation was in need of his undivided attention. It was not unheard of for cassette’s to grow clingy when they were afraid of something happening to their holder. Soundwave needed to reassure the cassette that Decepticon’s were superior to Autobots. No Autobot would ever kill him …

And then an explosion echoed through the air.

Not an unnatural sound to be heard on a battle field, but the scream that followed after chilled the sparks of many. It was the kind of scream that usually warranted a medic if it wasn’t already too late. It was a death blow. Rumble didn’t even get time to think about the scream when he was dropped, Sunstreaker nearly stepping on him as he quickly turned, a disgusted look on his face. Rumble was about to swear about a bruised aft, but his optics brightened when something dripped down onto him from the yellow figure standing over him. His optics widened as he stared at the slightly burnt armor on Sunstreaker’s back. What really caught his attention though was the blood splatter about the burn wound. It was not the Autobots. So who was …

A choking sound filled the air causing Rumble to look forward. His optics would never let him to forget the sight before him: the dripping energon that seemed to be running from the dying body it once inhabited; the spewing sparks from severed wires; the puking tubes mixing their life giving fluids into a bloodied pool; the shredded metal; and the hole. It was a gaping hole through the mech’s chest. Through the hole one could even see the surprised gazes of Optimus and Megatron as if it was a gore-filled window.

Rumble wanted to look away. He didn’t want this to be the last memory he would every have of, “Soundwave?”

Chapter Text

Gods … there are no gods.

Rumble was sure there weren’t any. He just couldn’t believe in Primus as he watched his creator fall backwards and bleed into the earth, the dirt absorbing every ounce of his energon like a sponge. Then there was the scream echoing through the bond. His very spark hurt, and he wasn’t sure what to do. The only thing he could do was sit there beneath the shadow of a yellow giant. He wanted to cry out and scream like an orphaned child, but the ability to do more than swallow had been lost to him.

The cassette closed his optics, praying it away. It had to be the dream again. He wanted to still be in his creator’s chest having another twisted dream. Soon, he’d be on that dock again and be staring down into the waters waiting for the corpse to drag him under. Yet, the longer he sat there, blood dripping onto his shoulder from the mech standing above him, the more it seemed real. Then there was the pain in his chest. It was growing and an ache was replacing it. It was as if a large fly was slowly ripping the web up one small strand at a time in its attempt to escape. His connection with Soundwave was dying … Soundwave was dying.

And it was entirely his fault.

A small whimper finally filled the air quickly followed by a clicking noise. It was the first noise to escape him and, in a way, it ashamed him. A Decepticon does not cry. Quickly, he tried to push the whimpering down, but a full out sob escaped him instead. His whole form was shaking now. It was then that he noticed that there were optics on him. He dimly noted that it was the Autobots that he had just tried to kill a few moments ago. Yet, despite his shame at being seen as weak in front of Autobot, he ignored them and started to crawl forward with his dented body.

It didn’t take him long to get to the blue cassette player. For a minute, he just stared too scared and ashamed to touch the older mech, but a choking noise made him snap out of his sorrow-induced stupor. Soundwave was still alive, if barely.

Getting on shaky legs, the cassette tried to crawl up onto the other’s chest to look at the wound. Maybe he had imagined just how bad it was. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“It’s okay, boss. I remember that first-aid you taught me. J-just hold on,” whimpered the small being more to himself then the body he was slowly crawling up, ignoring the agony in his own body. Yet, as the cassette crawled up to the chest, his hand slid in something wet and hot. He barely had time to compute that he had slipped on some energon on Soundwave’s chassis before he fell … into an open wound.

A splash followed after.

Rumble’s optics widened as he felt liquids of all kinds seep over him and around him. His vents hitched and he whimpered as his optics turned bright white. He could barely pick himself up and stare at the horror of where he was with its spitting lines, twisted metals and oozing innards. That gore meant nothing to him though when his optics caught sight of the true horror. Not even when the pump gave a vicious push, trying to keep the body alive splattering energon-blood all over the side of Rumble’s head and down his back, did he look away. Rumble could only continue to stare … at the spark chamber.

The light it bore seemed to fade in and out, showing the carnage before it dimmed for a moment. Rumble knew his creator rather well, but he had never seen his host’s spark. It was a soft glimmering white which seemed to want to be a blue at times … and it was fading. He hadn’t seen many sparks, but he knew that it was struggling. It was struggling just to stay alive.

The youth stood there a second, his vents shivering as coolant fell to his feet.

Finally, his voice finding itself, he sloshed forward in the inch deep mixture of vital fluids his voice breaking, “S-soundwave. You are going to be alright. Kay, boss.”

With shivering hands he drew towards the lines near the spark chamber, his hands shaking as he tried to pinch off pipes. There was a voice in the back of his mind telling him it was a useless endeavor, but for some reason he still tried, his hands trembling as they began to get slippery from the spilling fluids. He still struggled to do field repairs despite that, but soon he could barely tie anything off as his form became so oily all he could do was fall to his knees. A long suffering whimper escaped him as he knelt there, watching that spark flicker. It was barely shivering now. Its light would soon end as well as its song.

The cassette offlined his optics, a pained bawl finally escaping him as he surged forward towards his master’s spark chamber. His hands wrapped around it and he gave a desperate tug. It was not impossible to take a spark and put it in a new body if it was removed before death. Yet, the more he struggled, the more the glass cracked beneath his fingers. Rumble finally stopped and stared at the cracking glass. He had to stop. He had to stop or it would continue to crack. But, as he let go - as if it could feel him drawing away - the glass shattered.

Sparking stalling, choking back a strangled cry, Rumble lunged forward again. This time he cupped the warm flickering life in his hands instead of merely the glass that contained it. He could only see the dying light in his hands, his mind taking no noticed of the form growing grey about him, the music of the pumping innards stopping. The cassette could only stand there watching a soft light dripping from between his fingers like liquid. It was so warm and hot … and loving.

Despite himself, the small mech finally felt tears tumbling down his cheeks. He hadn’t noticed, but he had been crying the whole time. Slowly, opening his hands, the twin stared at the seemingly alive flame in his hands. Its light could not, would not, last though. It was as if a wind had crashed down from the heavens, and then the flame went out in a small flicker. Rumble’s vents held, thinking it would start again, but it did not. All he could do was stare, breathless, at the small amount of white-gold dust on his fingers. It alone was all that was left of his creator.

Rumble stared at the last residue of his creator for what seemed like forever. It seemed to sparkle like little bits of glitter. Slowly, he sat down in the gore, bringing the last pieces of essence to his chest as if in an embrace.

And there he sat.

…

Megatron stared at the tip of his cannon and the smoke that was trailing from his Second all the way to Optimus’ well placed hand. Optimus’ had directed the cannon away in time to deny the warlord a fatal blow to his head. Instead, the shot had been moved just in time to … take out his Communication Officer. Megatron could only stare as his ever loyal soldier slowly fell backwards with a gaping hole in his chest. The warlord continued to stare at the fallen Second for a moment more until one of Soundwave’s creations stumbled up the wound, falling inside. Rumble, yes, Rumble was his name, and he was the cause of this.

Soundwave’s only fault was his soft spark for those creations, and it was his downfall. But, Optimus would pay for now.

…

Rumble wasn’t sure how long he had sat there in the medical bay. His master’s energon still coated him all over him as if he had just been born from a womb. His arms were wrapped around his knees, and he just remained on a berth optics online but unseeing. He did not witness the surgeon rush pass or the injured. The only thing he saw was the form before him on a different berth. It was still as a stone and just as grey. Rumble was waiting for something, anything, even just a twitch from the boom box. He would sit there forever until the boggy waters rushed forward like in his nightmare, and he’d wake once more.

“How long has he been sitting there like that,” finally asked Thundercracker from his perch on a berth as Hook worked on his wing. He had been one of the walking wounded, but the injury was at an odd angle so he was forced to go into the medical bay when, generally, Decepticon’s would perform their own repairs if they were walking wounded.

The medic, pushing a finger into the wound to see its depth, made the seeker flinch before stating, “I am not sure. He came in with Soundwave.”

Thundercracker sat there a minute more, just looking at the little slagger shiver, “Is he going to offline or something?”

Hook pulled his finger out of wing and came in a little closer, trying to get a visual look at the damage. Then, taking out a pair of metal shredders to peel back any blackened armor, the medic stated, “Don’t know. The way he had that small seizure after I separated him from Soundwave’s body, I was sure we were going to lose him and all the other cassettes. But he came out of his hysterical cries when Mixmaster threatened to rip out his vocal processor. He’s been in that stupor ever since. I might check to see if he has any reflexes left later. I don’t know what happens when a cassette rack dies. Maybe cassettes go through a sort of withdrawal or this is just the beginning of a slow death.”

Thundercracker looked at the small mech, ready to say something, when all he could do was lurch his head forward and dig his fingers into the berth as the pain enveloped him. A pained whine escaped his clutched denta nonetheless though. It seemed the medic had started to weld and reattach wires before the sensors in his wings were completely nub. Hook merely grumbled something about being a sparkling and continued to do his work as the flier twitched.

A few cycles later, Thundercracker was able to finally pry his fingers out of the berth and away from the finger indentions in the side of the berth. He stared at his stiff hands noting that some of the paint had come off. Primus, he hated going to this butcher, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Skywarp was an idiot, and Starscream was in a meeting with Megatron. There was little doubt about what. After all, the largest clue was a grayed mech on a berth.

Soundwave was dead. Hook and Mixmaster confirmed it almost before Megatron had laid the body on the medical berth from what Thundercracker understood. He had overheard the diagnosis from Hook’s chatter, which was strange in and of itself. Generally, the surgeon was grumpy and not very talkative, but he seemed to want to suck up to TC today. The flier had a suspicion as to why. After all, Thundercracker had a tendency to be silent like the Communications Officer and had dealt with communications from time to time. It was not unheard of for Megatron to force upgrades on his soldiers. Hook just might know more than he was admitting. The medic had been a little more observant with his work today as if he were mapping the flier for future reference.

“So,” said the seeker as he watched Hook wipe his hands in a rag. “Who do you think will be the new Third in Command?”

Hook’s visor glowed, and then he stated simply, looking away from the flier as if ignoring his gaze. “Don’t know, but there’s going to be bloodshed. Mechs are going to be fighting for that position and guess who’s going to be sewing them up?”

The blue mech frowned as he looked the surgeon up and down, looking for a clue. Hook didn’t give him anything but a glare. “I don’t know anything. So don’t ask. I just want to exam this cassette. I’ve never gotten my hand on one of these for more than a few minutes you know. Soundwave always did their internal repairs, especially around the spark chamber. In fact, I can’t wait to get my hands on that shell of his. Not a lot is recorded about cassettes and cassette racks.”

Thundercracker didn’t know if that was good or not. There was no doubt in his mind that Megatron wanted to replace his Third in Command as quickly as possible, but he always wanted a resourceful mech … like a mech with five helpers. Thundercracker could only hope that that hole in the dead mech’s chest wouldn’t allow Hook to figure out how to remake the designs. It seemed that he was getting looks from the medic’s gestalt members, mocking ones. Yet, before he could open his mouth to pry farther, the med bay doors open and in stepped a rather grumpy looking Starscream.

Everyone in the room turned their heads in time to see the frown on the mech’s facial plates, and then cringed away expecting the screeching to start. Strangely, when the Second in Command spoke, his words were almost empathetic.

“Thundercracker … come with me. Megatron wants to see you,” said Starscream as he turned and started to stalk towards the hall, expecting the other mech to follow. TC tightened in the shoulders and then threw a worried look over at the cassette. His tried not to cringe as an image hit him: his body strapped to a berth as the Constructicons started to cut into his chassis in order to fit him with a holder for cassettes. His left optic twitched, and he made his way to the door, his shoulders stiff in mental agony.

Mixmaster stared at the pair of blue wings disappearing through the doors, and then snickered. He then walking towards Rumble’s berth with almost a chipper excitement as Hook headed over towards the cassette as well. The two mechs stood over the shivering being, before Hook leaned forward with a critical optic. Rumble was covered in various fluids, and it was hard to tell if any of the energon was actually his. A scan quickly fell over the patient, and it revealed that the cassette was indeed damaged, but it seemed to be mostly cosmetic. Just a few dents had to be hammered out and his shoulder strut had to be adjusted. All other injuries were already being repaired by his own systems.

“Well, his current mental condition isn’t from an injury. That shoulder needs a little work though. It’s not going to fix itself,” stated Hook as he waved a hand in front of the cassette. No reaction.

“Who-who cares about that. I-I’ve heard a rumor that cassettes have half-sparks, yet they still can survive. We-we should just crack him op-open and get a peek,” said Mixmaster as his fingers seemed to shiver in anticipation.

Hook seemed to give him a glare with the way his visor lit up, but then a small chuckle crept up his spine. “You know me too well.”

The medic then ripped the cassette from his inner huddle of his limbs and made him lie down on his back rather harshly. Those huge fingers then quickly started to roam over the smaller being’s chassis looking for the opening switch so he could finally see the cassette’s inner workings. That rumor about cassettes was just that, a rumor, and he was going to see if there was any truth to it. Yet, just as a soft click filled the room, Hook suddenly drew away with a yip, a growl following after the cry.

“Slaggen little monster!” griped Hook as he looked at his bloodied and bitten hand, a glare setting itself on the growling form of Ravage as the cat-former stood over the prone form of her sibling.

Quickly following the medic’s curse, a collection of cackles from the rest of Hook’s gestalt team filled the room, cat calls, and ‘here kitty’ sayings escaping them. Mixmaster was also having a good laugh even though, he himself, almost had gotten bitten.

“Look-look at that, Hook. The-the kitty likes you,” said the chemical mastermind as he watched energon drip to the floor from Hook’s hand.

“Bite me!” growled the medic as he eyed the cassette.

“To-to bad, someone already did!” cat-called the leader as he looked Ravage over again. He had wanted to see if the rumors were true, but it wasn’t worth losing a hand. Besides, there would be other chances.

Waving at the cat, Mixmaster stated simply, “Either-either take him and leave, or leave him to us. He-he is damaged, after all.”

Ravage growled low in her throat, and then she slowly got off the top of her sibling, never taking her optics off the mechs before her. Then, nudging Rumble’s arm with her nose, she managed to get his arm around her neck. With one more parting growl she jumped down, dragging the nearly comatose Rumble with her.

…

There was water. It was the waves again. It was lapping at his ankles, the lake just before him. Rumble was not afraid of the waves anymore. He just wanted to wander deeply into them and become a rusting corpse with his creator. He wanted the weeds, the reeds and muddy shale. He wanted its cold embrace and wetness to drown him.

He wanted death.

The cassette didn’t even flinch as he took the first step into the lake. It was freezing and almost seemed to sting as it drowned sensitive circuitry. The blue mech was not denied his want of it though. He continued forward, the mud stirring at his feet and the whispers from beneath the water pulling him forward. Yet, before his head could be swallowed by the waves, the water felt a little too real … and warm.

Rumble drew away only to regret the action as his back slammed against something hard. His optics onlined and he looked around in a panic. He wanted to get to his feet and run, but suddenly there was a heavy weight against his chest and he was forced to look down. There was a paw, a metallic paw.

=Don’t move. I haven’t cleaned it all off yet,= said Ravage as she drew her paw away, picking up a rag in that same limb as she started to wipe off … wipe off energon. Rumble couldn’t stop himself as a whimper escaped him, the memories of why his was covered in blood returning. He suddenly found himself wanting to hide, to get away, to bury his shame, but Ravage merely pushed down with her paw again.

=Calm down, youngling. You don’t want to wake your siblings, do you? It was hard to get them into recharge, the ache in their sparks so terrible,= said Ravage, her words suddenly seeming soft. In all his vorns, Rumble could never recall her words seeming so soft or feminine, but for some reason it seemed like all those things tonight. But most of all … it seemed safe. He couldn’t help himself. The youngling couldn’t help but allow a choking sob to escape him, his arms throwing themselves forward and around the feline’s neck. He expected her to yell at him or bite him, but the strange thing was that she didn’t pull away. Her paw, instead, came up onto his shoulder, and she purred softly into his ear.

=It’s alright Rumble. I’ll protect all of you now … if it’s the last thing I do,= said the cat-former mostly to herself then the weeping youth. There was a lot of promises behind those words, she knew it, but she had to take up the responsibility. True, she could survive without Soundwave being that she had been alive long enough that her half spark, as with all cassettes over time, had slowly developed into a full spark. The rest of the rack was not so lucky. They would offline without a host to support them.

She knew what she had to do, as Ravage clutched at her brother, she made a vow to find a new cassette rack … or make one.

…

There was cheering and overall merriment elsewhere in the world. Now, this was not rare in the Ark, especially when it came to the fact that everyone seemed to have a secret stash of high-grade to drown themselves in. But, tonight, the Prime had allowed it. So it was the good stuff. Not that Blaster could complain. He was a mech that loved to party, but he was slightly confused as to why. He had been on surveillance duty when they had received the call of Megatron’s forces attacking and was left behind.

Not that he complained. He was still a little sore after being shot that last time.

Slaggen Skywarp.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to join in on the celebrations. Something good must have happened and he wanted to know what. Letting his cassettes out and telling them to be good, he flaunted over to a slightly intoxicated Jazz, Ironhide, and a trying-to-escape Prowl.

“What’s happenin’?” grinned the mech as he took a seat, successfully barring in a now-peeved looking Prowl. It was likely that he had been dragged to the party by the Third in Command. Poor slagger. “What’s with the shin-dig?”

Jazz grinned lazily, his drink spilling itself all over the table and probably a bit onto Prowl as well.

“Well,” said Jazz with a happy grin, “Weh’ had a gooood battle’h today.”

“Good, how, my brother,” said Blaster as he stole Ironhide’s drink right out of his hand, taking a sip. For a minute, the red mech stared at his hand as if not understanding where it had went. Then, probably thinking he drank it, stood up shakily and headed back to the dispenser for anther cube.

“Well … weee’h no-h longg-her have to worr-he a-bout some-hun peeken on us in the show-whores,” said Jazz so sloppily, there seemed to be energon dripping down the side of his mouth.

Blaster quickly took a sip of his borrowed drink so he wouldn’t laugh his aft off at Jazz’s … language. Once he finally managed to get it down without choking, he asked, “So Reflector is deactivated?”

Jazz leaned heavily on Prowl whose door wings twitched. For a click he just lay his head on the annoyed mech’s shoulder as if waiting for his systems to catch up.

“What?” asked Jazz in complete confused.

Prowl, finally able to take no more, shoved the Third in Command slightly so that he was no longer drooling on him. Then, as if dusting off Jazz’s presence, he rubbed his arm, stating, “No, he was talking about Soundwave.”

Blaster’s lips quickly fell away from his drink, the Cassette-Rack’s Law echoing in his head, “W-what happened?”

“Nothin’ much,” chuckled Ironhide as he flopped into his seat, nearly falling until Blaster grabbed his arm to support him. Once steady, Ironhide continued, “He jus’ has a hole in ‘es chest. Deactivated as a doornail. We won’t bee’h seein’ hair or hide of those ‘Cons till old Buckethead ‘as a new Third in Command nor an’ mor’h cassettesss.”

Blaster’s worry quickly drown itself, the thought of the Cassette Rack Laws forgotten momentarily. Soundwave had been blown through the chest after all, and the way Ironhide was speaking meant all of his cassettes had to be offline with him. Figures that Soundwave would take all of his creations with him.

And with that thought, Blaster threw back the rest of his drink.

Chapter Text

Ravage paced the length of Soundwave’s room, throwing glances at the pile of cassettes on their Master’s berth. It had taken her half the night to clean Rumble and then convince him to sleep with his siblings. The youth had acted like he wasn’t worthy enough to sleep with his brothers, but that didn’t matter to her. The half-spark of her siblings wouldn’t last if they couldn’t feed off the bonds they had to each other … and her. She had to rest with them at least a few hours a night to keep them in a stable condition until she found a suitable replacement. After all, she was the only one with a fully developed spark.

That would not last forever though. She had to make some decisions. Fast.

Alright, Soundwave had given her the name of a replacement rack should anything ever happen to him. The mech’s name was Jive. He was stern and a keeper of old traditions, but he had been loyal to Megatron’s cause. Soundwave had invoked the Cassette Rack Laws and asked Jive to be his cassettes’ keeper, promising to do the same in return. That had been before their long sleep on Earth and many mech’s had deactivated since then or fallen into stasis due to hunger. Even if Jive wasn’t dead … he was probably in stasis, and Ravage would never find and revive his body in time. Perhaps, she should invoke the laws on another rack, being they were so rare, he or she couldn’t refuse. Too bad the only one she knew in the area was the Autobot, Blaster.

She physically cringed at the thought.

No, it would be an insult to her creator. He would not have approved and neither would any of the siblings. That left another option though: making another cassette rack. Hmm, at first glance she would think none of the mechs on the base would be worthy, but one couldn’t be choosy at a moment like this.

Giving one more look at her siblings, the cassette decided that she had to make sure they were fed if only to clear her own thoughts.

Grunting in her throat, Ravage drew near the door. It slid open with a hiss and she stepped out into the dull halls, only her red optics offering any true light. Generally, at this time, her creator would then reach towards the control panel for the door and lock it to keep those inside safe. He wasn’t here anymore to do that for their small family’s protection, but that didn’t mean that she was going to leave the door unlocked.

Baring her fangs, Ravage extended her claws and then jumped towards the wall, leaving puncture holes in the wall as she clawed upwards like a rock climber. It only took her a few moments to get to the control and paw in the locking code. She didn’t care who saw her in such an embarrassing display, nobody was taking anyone else from her. She’d suffer a few awkward moments for that.

…

Thundercracker felt the energon in his lines go cold as a pair of cool red optics dragged over his armor. Megatron’s sole attentive gaze was on him. That rarely happened and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t even sure if the overlord knew his name. Well, from the look of things be must have given that he had asked for Thundercracker directly.

Swallowing, the Seeker fell to one of his knees and bowed, praying to Primus that his fears wouldn’t be realized. He had enough trouble babysitting Skywarp, but cassettes? He sure the hell hoped he wasn’t going to be made Megatron’s second. He didn’t know what he’d do with those two monsters, Rumble and Frenzy. They’d probably get him killed. The rest of the cassettes didn’t bother him as much, but he wasn’t a pet person, and he certainly wasn’t going to gain status by replacing a dead mech.

Not that he was going to say such a thing to Megatron’s face, especially with the expression that was presently draped on bucket-head’s face.

“You wanted me, Sir,” said Thundercracker, his optics wanting to look anywhere but up at that towering figure.

Megatron continued to sit there in his throne, just staring at Thundercracker. Then, standing up, he walked over and looked down at the flier. He lifted his hand, signifying the mech to rise. TC did so without question, swallowing his nervousness.

Megatron then proceeded to walk around the Seeker, stalling at his wings. The blue flier nearly bulked when he felt those heavy, callused fingers running down his wings not missing an inch of their span.

“As I’m sure you are aware… my Communication Officer, Soundwave, Third in Command, was defeated in the last battle,” murmured the tyrant as he continued fingering those wings. Admiring or testing them, TC wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I need a replacement. I would have asked Shockwave to cover the position given his loyalty, but he has other objectives that need his attention as the Guardian of Cybertron. I did ask for his console though.”

Starscream huffed at this (probably pissed that, being the Second in Command, Megatron hadn’t asked him) but the warlord continued as if the enraged flier wasn’t there.

“He said a flier would be very effective since they would be able to change position easily if communication was lost and reestablish it. He recommend Acid Rain and Blackout, but I couldn’t take Acid Rain … far too young and irresponsible.”

Megatron threw a look specifically at Starscream and the flier huffed in response.

Thundercracker tried not to look in his trine leader’s direction, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew the tale far too well of how Megatron had managed to secure Starscream’s loyalties. Screamer had been young and stupid, flashy promises of power winning over the youth’s mind. It was probably why the flier was now so bitter. In fact, it looked like Starscream was about to lash out, defending old wounds. That had been a personal insult in Starscream’s direction after all.

“I want an older, more responsible mech,” continued Megatron, his fingers running down the length of TC’s wings again before he let go and started moving back towards his throne. “I need a mech that can handle young cassettes, Soundwave’s cassettes. For the next few solar days I will be going over you and Blackouts files to decide which of you will be promoted. Do you understand?”

The Seeker swallowed, and then mutely nodded before he could state in almost a broken hearted tone, “Yes, my lord.”

Megatron smiled almost wickedly, before basically laughing. “Don’t look so petrified, Thundercracker. This is a great proposition for you so don’t mess it up.”

Smiling for a moment more, the warlord waved his hand as if bored. “You may leave.”

Thundercracker wanted to rebuke, complain, or at least demand that this Blackout character take the position, but he found himself too petrified. He could only bow and quickly found himself walking out, his spark panicking in its casing. He didn’t want to be ripped open and have a cassette rack placed inside him. There would be complications undoubtedly. He also didn’t want to be separated from his trine. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life trying to stay alive and keep a title he didn’t want.

He really didn’t want to be separated from his trine.

Yet, he stepped outside of the door without another word, Starscream’s voice sounding behind the door.

“You are not ripping up my trine!” all but raged Starscream as he stepped forward, his optics flaring.

Megatron didn’t even listen to the rest of his Second in Command’s complaint when he all but yelled, “Silence! My decision will remain as such! Now head out to the space bridge and to Cybertron to retrieve this Blackout character Shockwave was speaking of. Do not test me on this or you will be my new Communications Officer and Thundercracker will be my new Second in Command! I bet a cassette rack would do wonders for your figure. Now, out!”

Starscream could only take a step back, hand resting on his chest for a moment, his optic twitching before he all but stormed out of the door.

…

Ravage’s tail twitched. She had spent all morning wandering the halls of the base. She observed every mech for a collection of minutes, reaching out with her limited and lacking mental powers trying to gather more information. Soundwave’s spark gave her these abilities as limited as hers were. Soundwave himself could read not just current thoughts but mechs’ minds. It wasn’t that he knew what everyone was thinking, he just had the capacity to dive into unguarded minds and rip them apart if there was a hardline connection. Now that Soundwave was dead, since everyone knew the rumors, nobody was guarding themselves making it possible for Ravage to collect thoughts.

She knew that none of Megatron’s men were saints, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. None of them had the calm nature for cassette care. In fact, she had caught the thoughts of more than one mech that was planning on stepping on one of her siblings now that their creator was no longer there to protect them. She was running out of choices.

The only mech that she could think of as patient enough to not kill the twins was Shockwave. Not her first choice but her creator and the Guardian got along. Soundwave had trusted him. She trusted him as well. There was only one problem with that though… how was she going to get to Cybertron to even ask if he would be their new cassette rack?

A grumbling red flier seemed to answer her question for her as his thoughts wandered by her.

So Megatron was sending Starscream to Cybertron, was he?

Ravage, who at the present moment had been perched far above the other mechs like a watching buzzard, fell from her perch with soft grace, landing on all four feet before walking forward. No one would have guessed she had just jumped two stories down. Looking both ways as if waiting to be attacked, the cassette then started running forward with her mind set on a goal. She was going to Cybertron today, even if she had to blackmail Screechy to take her.

After all, with some of the thoughts she had just picked up from his unguarded mind, she had plenty of blackmail oo the slagger, but first …

=Frenzy, Rumble, wake up, younglings!=

It took a moment but Frenzy answered the comm. She could tell that the red youngling had been crying by the sound of his voice alone. It was not a Decepticon trait to cry, but she would not be denying him the right, now or ever. She probably would be an emotional mess too if she could afford it, but she had other obligations to fulfill. The quiet mourning of her creator could come after.

“Where are you?” she commed as she picked up her pace to keep up with Screechy.

There was a moment of silence before the younger mech answered, =On our berth with everyone else… when did you get Rumble?=

=Never you mind. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. I need you to make sure no one leaves that room. Stick together, your sparks can thrive off of each other if they start to become unbalanced,= she stated simply, growling as Mixmaster walked past her and Screamer.

The scientist merely giggled down at her, but did not stall the cat-former in her stalking.

A scared tone followed after, =Y-you’re leaving us?=

That tone made her sick. Frenzy and that pitiful tone just didn’t go together, but she had to keep them alive. She had promised.

“Just for a little while. I need to secure our survival. Just stay together and if one of you starts feeling spark pains, cuddle. The spark will fall into tune with the other siblings.”

There was a moment of silence, the young mech finally asking, “And what if all of our sparks start becoming erratic?”

At this, the femme was silent.

Frenzy shivered as the truth hit him. There was a great possibility that they were all going to deactivated.

Pushing down his fears so they wouldn’t leak through the bond, he said goodbye to the eldest sibling. The red youth then laid down with his head on Rumble’s chassis, a hand snaking forward and intertwining his fingers with one of the blue mech’s hands. This kind of closeness wasn’t something either one of them gave into even thought they were twins, but he needed comfort. Who knew how long they would have each other.

…

=Frenzy… Frenzy,= the mech jolted awake, optics wide and nearly white. He had been dreaming. No remembering. No… was it even his dream? Was it Rumble’s? Either way it was about water, seaweed and death. For a moment, Frenzy was sure he could see something in the water, but someone awoke, ending the shared dream. Yes, it had to have come from one of his siblings because they were all up, looking about as if frightened. It didn’t take much looking around to see whose dream it was. Rumble was shaking slightly, vents hiccupping.

The blue twin looked away, ashamed of waking all his siblings, but his worry was forgotten when Buzzsaw spoke again, =Frenzy, where is Ravage? I can’t feel her.=

His answer was simple. “She’s gone.”

The flier was taken aback, beak moving but no sound coming out. How could she abandon them in their time of need?

Frenzy continued, “She said she’d be back in a mega-cycle or two.”

The flier tilted his head, his glances going downward towards a still recharging Ratbat. Why hadn’t Rumble’s nightmare woken the youngest up as well? The red mech looked up at Bazzsaw, noting finally was where the flier was looking as well. Frowning slightly, the bipedal mech moved forward on his knees, stalling at the youngest sibling’s side. Slowly, he reached out and shook Ratbat with minimal ease.

His voice was soft. “Hey, Ratbat, wake up.”

There was no reply or even a twitch. The youngest was almost cold as death. In fact, if the youngest still didn’t hold the color to his paint, Frenzy would have been sure he was deactivated.

He quickly threw a worried look up at his older siblings, Buzzsaw and Laserbeak. The two gave him hard looks. They knew what was happening… it always took the youngest first. Ratbat’s spark was failing without a cassette rack to support it. He really was very young.

“What should we do?” he asked in almost a panic.

Buzzsaw looked over to his own twin, and Laserbeak nodded before taking to the air with a squawk, comming their reply to the red twin.

Frenzy nodded in agreement, “Okay, I will stay here with Ratbat and Rumble. You two can go out and get some energon. It will not fix the problem, but it might help him hold out a little longer.”

Rumble’s shaking went still at Frenzy’s words. Go out? As in out into the base? But Soundwave was gone. They had no protection, nothing. He couldn’t lose anyone else from his bond!

The two birds, though perhaps surprised by the maturity of the once trouble-making red cassette, nodded and flew out through the vents. It seemed that they were just as worried about having protection, using the back way.

Rumble frowned as he watched the birds go, and then pulled himself closer to his brother, curling up against him as he lazily pulled Ratbat closer. A silence continued for some time until the blue mech found himself asking.

“When’d you grow up, bro? I’ve never heard you talk like that.”

Frenzy started as he looked at his brother, surprised to watch his twin sit up straight and almost defiantly. He had heard about what happened on the battlefield, how Rumble had cried like a little fleshy as he struggled to save their Master. He had wanted to ask his twin many things, but the only thing he could ask was, “Did he suffer?”

Rumble was quiet for a long time before he softly stated, “It tried to save him… It was my fault. I tried so hard! I tried to remember all the medical training that he taught us but…”

Frenzy stopped his brother there, anger quickly bubbling to the surface.

“Quiet! I just wanted to know if he suffered! I know it was your fault he’s offline! I know it’s your fault we are all suffering,” the twin all but yelled before going silent again and stating in a hushed tone, “I just want to know… did he suffer?”

Turning away from his twin and looking into the dim of the room, the chairs and Soundwave-sized tools making him want to choke on his own tears, Rumble thought it best to lie and keep his pains to himself. Soundwave probably suffered before he died… his death wasn’t immediate. Swallowing his suffering, Rumble stated, “He was dead before I even got to him, his spark extinguished. I still tried though.”

Visor dimming for a moment, his twin nodded before reaching over and pulling the youngest cassette to him… and that was all that was said.

And so Rumble sat on the other side of the berth, not near either of his two remaining brothers. Neither seemed to mind or care though, one catatonic and the other merely lost to his thoughts as he petted Ratbat down his back in a seemingly endless repetition. Rumbled looked back down at his feet unable to watch the growing silence that was forming behind him. This was his fault. He had known something bad was going to happen to Soundwave. There was the dream after all. It probably had even fulfill the dream by keep silent.

His hands shivered as he pulled them into fists, whispering to himself as a tear fell down his metallic cheek. “I should have been the one to die.”

There was a moment of silence, Frenzy stalled in the petting of his brother’s wings, swallowing before he replied, “Yes, you should have … but it happened. In truth, there was nothing you could have done. Soundwave would have come to save any of us. It’s not like you could have known.”

“… But I did.”

Frenzy went stiff at Rumble’s words and turned to look at his brother. He was confused and horrified when he noticed that his sibling was serious, energon tears tumbling down his metallic cheeks. Shaking, he threw himself forward to grab on to his brother’s waist. The bond was slammed into as well, emotions like fear, confusion, and pain overwhelming the unprepared red sibling.

Frenzy felt his spark panic at the intensity and tried to ask in an even voice, “W-what do you mean?”

A few moments of sniffling and finally Rumble found himself able to blubber, “It was a dream. I dreamed it days ago! Soundwave was dead and rusted and rotting away in the water! I knew he was going to die! I slaggen knew and I said nothing!”

Stillness slammed into the cassette’s spark, his creator’s words of warning bouncy in his system.

It had been when they were still on Cybertron and Ratbat had yet to come into existence. Soundwave had been trying to coax their eldest sibling, Ravage, out of a corner where she was balled up with her paws over her audios, yowling in pain.

It was painful to just watch her wither in pain… yet there had been no wounds. It took a while but Soundwave had finally been able to get her out of her ball, placing her on his lap as a sonic sound vibrated over the room. The cat-former calmed immediately and fell into a light recharge as he petted down her back, hitting all the right sensors to lull her into a full recharge.

Only once she was fully in recharge where the other cassettes even allowed to speak.

“What’s wrong with her… is she damaged?”

Shaking his head, the cassette rack stated calmly, “Diagnosis: mental psychic developing. Abilities, no matter how limited, are hard to control at first.”

Rumble looked at his brother, kind of excited but not liking the way Ravage had gotten all twitchy. They all knew that, no matter how stoic their Master was, that they were part of his spark. And as his creations they always wondered about his mind-reading abilities, but since none of them had any, they merely presumed that it was a program and not a natural, spark-passed ability like with being a flier or grounder.

It proved never to presume anything about Soundwave.

Feeling cocky, Frenzy asked, “So… will they be awesome or crappy like the angry kitty over here?”

A growl escaped Ravage but she did not stir from slow recharge.

Their creator was silent for a moment before stating, “Analysis: multiple probabilities. Some are levitation, pyrokinesis, invisibility, clairvoyance, telekinesis, and precognition which is the ability to see the future.”

“And do you have the last one? Do you know how this war is going to end?”asked the youth.

The rack was silent before he answered carefully, “Reply: I have not had such visions… nor do I want to. It is a dangerous ability. It only brings suffering.”

Frenzy found himself shaking his head, tears now streaming down his face as well. His brother knew. His brother knew and did nothing about it. Feeling rage rising in his body once more, Frenzy suddenly pushed his sibling away, screaming at his twin, “Don’t touch me! Don’t slaggen touch me! You knew! You knew this was going to happen and you just let it!”

“No…No,” begged Rumble as he tried to scramble back into his brother’s embrace. “I thought it was a dream. I didn’t think it was real. I just thought it was-”

“Slaggen liar!” The red twin struggled to his feet, his voice even harsher than before. “You knew! You knew and did nothing! Stop touching me. Stop!”

Growing desperate, feeling the loss of his brother’s bond as Frenzy blocked him off, Rumble all but started to claw at his sibling, paint chipping as he cried, “F-frenzy, please. My spark hurts. Please let me back in. The pain is less. Don’t pull away from me. We need each other or I might end up like Ratbat there!”

“Like Ratbat?! Well, good you slaggen betrayer! Maybe you’ll know what it’s like for Ratbat, lying there half dead. Time counting down until he’s dead,” barked Frenzy, his voice growing cold.

Rumble shook his head, optics growing wide. “H-he’s not going to offline. He can’t. I-I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know,” said Frenzy, suddenly coming forward with confidant steps fists held to his sides. “Didn’t know that your stupidity, your cowardice, would get Soundwave killed? Didn’t know that Ratbat would be the first to fall ill because the youngest? Yet you let Soundwave deactivated? You’re killing our family!”

Rumble wasn’t even allowed to plead his case before the red cassette made the final step and suddenly pushed Rumble roughly off the berth. The blue cassette’s back slammed to the floor with a dull clank, his head hitting hard. Rumble wasn’t even allowed a groan of pain before his twin had jumped to the floor and was on top of him, his fists slamming into the blue cassette’s face.

“You did this to us! You did this to our family!” cried the red twin, tears now flowing from underneath his visor as he continued to punch despite the fact that Rumble kept crying out that he was sorry.

The one sided beat down continued for a few cycles before stopping, energon on the red twin’s knuckles. Frenzy final was able to hear the pleas of his brother. Not that his stare was any less cold or forgiving. His words were just as biting though. “You’re no longer my brother. You’ve killed us all. Just leave us alone before you kill more of us. Get out…. GET OUT!”

Rumble kept his optics offline as he was dragged across the floor, bleeding. He barely was able to note that the door swished open before he was thrown out into the hall as a mass of metal, Frenzy shutting the door behind him. His twin hadn’t even said goodbye.

He had been banished.

Slowly sitting up, Rumble put a hand to his now dented chest. It hurt. His whole chassis ached like there were fluids in his vents, and he was drowning in them. Frenzy was right.

He had destroyed his family.

Rumble couldn’t stay here anymore. It hurt too much. Maybe it would just be best if he died alone, far away so he would no longer cause any pain to them. After all, Soundwave himself had said that foresight was a cursed ability.

And Rumble was cursed.

Chapter Text

Soundwave’s cassettes, in all their miseries, would think themselves the center of attention in the universe since it was getting such sick enjoyment out of their suffering.

In this mental proclamation they would be wrong.

The universe just witnesses and is.

It has witnessed the creation of a planet-sized computer meant to answer the question to everything; it has seen a god become a world devourer; it has watched an ancient race string together galaxy after galaxy with nothing but wormholes and gates; it has seen three universal wars; the death of the first sun and first race; a giant turtle mounted by a disk world; and a time-traveler who’d travel the universe from time line to time line with a blue box. The universe saw many interesting lives, wars and deaths. It was everything that was and would be. It witnessed all transverses in the universe emotionlessly be it a war without end or the simple act of buying a football ticket.

In fact, at this very moment, it watched an Autobot cassette called Eject who was about to have a huge change in his fate. Though he was completely oblivious to this. He was merely whistling as he walked down the halls of the Ark. Instead of worrying about a war, he was trying to sucker his way into getting season passes. It seemed today was the perfect day to ask because the other day Soundwave had been reported as deactivated. Poor ugly slagger. Not that the cassette was saddened terribly in any manner. He was sick of having Rumble or Frenzy try to rip off his legs of and beat him with them during battle.

So, like he said: poor dead slagger, lucky me. Soundwave’s loss was Eject’s gain.

Eject knew a part of him should feel bad. He detested the war for this very reason. Mechs deactivating that really shouldn’t have had to. Why couldn’t they all get together and play a violent round of soccer instead? Perhaps it was asking too much to have a rivalry and fun in one activity. Either way, at least the universe seemed to be on his side. After all, the Decepticon’s cassettes went with their master or he and his brothers would most likely have some roommates to share their caretaker’s chassis with. Pit on earth that would have been. He knew the Cassette Rack Laws and Obligations as well as any of the cassettes on base, and Blaster chartered to all of them. If Soundwave had no one to inherit and care for his half-sparks than that obligation would fall to the nearest cassette rack around before the younglings could offline. That is, unless, the boom box already had someone able and ready in mind.

Considering that over half of the mechs of Cybertron where either in stasis, offline, or cast away to someone uncharted colony, Eject doubted that Soundwave had such forward thinking. The Con was such an egotistical mech at times with his ‘Soundwave Superior’ motto that the slagger probably thought he couldn’t die. So, though the blue mech was wrong about the immortality thing, he was right about his cassettes never needing a caretaker because they went with him.

Maybe there was some truth to the rumor about transformer mind readers. Yes, everyone knew that most mechs with the ability went mad, but there was also a rumor that the ones that didn’t could sometimes do more than read minds. They could start fires with just a thought, move things with nothing but their mind, and see hints of the future. The blue rack probably didn’t have the last ability … given that he was dead.

Poor, dead slagger and slagger-ettes. He wouldn’t be missing any of the cassettes, especially Ravage… though he wasn’t so sure that Steeljaw had the same opinion.

Spotting said lion-former in the rec. room next to Hound on the couch, watching some nature show, Eject felt like throwing some childish wit at his older sibling. Smiling, he hopped up onto the huge couch and pretended to watch the television.

Steeljaw’s tail twitched nonetheless. Everyone knew that sitting still and watching something as sport-less as the Discovery Channel was not in Eject’s settings. Tail thrashing in warning, the young mech final spoke, already sick of playing the taunting game.

“Hey Jaws? Still moping over your dead girlfriend?” stated the youngest cassette of the small communication group.

Steeljaw’s tail twitched a moment more, rather sick of the still running joke that he should just break down and date the only other cat-former probably in existence: Ravage. He’d rather eat his own blasters.

Taking on his usually professional attitude, he stated over their bond in a slightly witty manner, =Not as much as you’ll miss being Laserbeak’s and Buzzsaw’s plaything. I’m sure you’ll mourn losing all that extreme hang time.=

Eject’s cocky smile faded, and he suddenly pouted, recalling the day those two birdbrains dragged him off into the sky by his ankles. Flopping back, the youth merely waved his hand casting off the subject for something he’d rather talk about. “Hey, have you seen Blaster anywhere?”

=He’s still going to say no, = stated the eldest as he continued to watch the Australian man try to wrestle an alligator. =Being drunk, in a good mood, bad mood, half dead, hung over, and all the above is not going to change that. Prowl said no. Thus, Prime said no, and that makes Blaster say: negatory little man.=

“Say’s you-”

=And Prime and Prowl.=

“Why can’t I have my season tickets? What’s wrong with wanting to be in that stadium, cheering on an American pastime, having a homerun when it comes to life?” complained the younger cassette.

=Because, as Prowl pointed out when you whined to him not even three mega-cycles ago, we don’t have the resources to have you running around on such meaningless ventures and neither do we want to send you out all over the country without back-up. I sure know I’m not going with you to be called a mascot and get soda or beers poured down my spinal common. That one baseball game with the Lakers was bad enough.=

“Don’t blame that basketball to the face on me! You could have walked it off. I also would have caught it if you hadn’t told me to take a time out and sit down,” pointedly stated the cassette as he poked the other, pulling the finger back before the lion-former could contemplate nipping at it.

Sliding off the huge couch and regaining his sportsman like buoyancy, Eject grinned and stated, “Well, I’m going to ask anyway. For not only is Blaster happy as an Olympic gold winner, but he also has a migraine from the pit after finally waking up for his shift. Minimal talking will get me what I want.”

=We’ll see about that,= stated the cat-former as he tried not to grin. Today was going to be a good day. There was a Steve Irwin marathon and Eject would not be interrupting it again because, more than likely, he’d be banished to Blaster’s innards after a fit. There were and weren’t good times to play with the boom box’s soft side and today was not one of them. Maybe when the kid was old enough to drink high grade he would understand why it was unwise to try to talk anything out of a suffering mech because…

Blaster had had better days.

The red mech had had smatter moments as well, but hearing that his personal arch enemy had final kicked the big one had caused him to drink all night and into the early morning the next day… two mega-cycles ago. He had spent the first day out like a light. Prowl hadn’t been amused but at least now Blaster wasn’t acting like a plague victim, moaning about the pain every few moments and then clutching his head. Really, he had never seen Jazz so pathetic.

Sighing, his head throbbing, the cassette rack turned his head slightly when he heard the patter of small peds. He didn’t even have to really hear the steps to know who it was. Rubbing his temples, the mech stated, “What’s up little man? Make it brief. Your creator needs silence to suffer.”

“Well, I don’t want to throw you a curveball, but I was wondering that since there is very little likeability that there’ll be no sudden deaths with the Decepticon’s cassettes out of commission. I was wondering if I could…”

“No.”

Blinking, his mind blank, the cassette had to stutter, “I missed that fastball, Blaster. No to what?”

“Tickets to the game. Prime and Prowl have said their peace, my miniature sports star, so you’ll just have to accept their proclamation and deal with it like a good little trooper. We have the sports channel, little buddy,” stated the mech, his optics going offline for a moment as he groaned in pain.

“B-but a cross country runner can’t practice his trade indoors and with the challenging team out for the count, out for the season, I need to stretch my legs and get ahead,” whined the youngster.

“… Well, if you are so desperate, cool running’s, I heard that Spike and Sparkplug couldn’t take the heat and planned a quick retreat to a mountain lake for a week or two. Hang with them, sports star, if you want to get out. Hurry up though,” added the mech. “Spike is getting ready to leave.”

“But…”

“Do you want to spend the next few mega-cycles in my chassis? I’m in no mood,” growled Blaster in agony, only to quickly frown. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap. This processor ache ain’t going away.”

Eject tried not to pout, feeling a small sting of hurt. Blaster never snapped and before the mech could catch his hurt feelings through a bond, the youth nodded, “Sure, sounds great. It’ll be… fun.”

Maybe it was best that he go with Sparkplug. He was no fan of camping, but maybe the group could swing by to some college game on their way back or at least play some new outdoors sports. No one would care. After all, Prowl had been adamant that no new games were to come into the Ark. He had to approve them prior. There had been that incident when they had tried to teach the Dino-bots American football.

Yeah, Ratchet hadn’t been happy.

He really did want to try water polo.

“Don’t you even want to know where they are going or who’s going?” asked Blaster, frowning as he stared down at the youth.

“Its fine,” forced the cassette. He did not want to be cast away into an angry creator’s chassis for the next two weeks when he could be outside instead.

Blaster just nodded his head reluctantly before groaning in pain. His words struggled to remain chipper as he commed Bumblebee, “Hey, yellow buddy. Room for one more? I have a fast runnin’ little hot shot that wants to deploy his athletic skills?”

…

Down the corridors of the Ark, past a few pairs of large legs, Spike sat there with his back against the wall of the main entrance. He got just a taste of a breeze from where he sat and perked his head up trying to get a flavor of coolness. It was hotter than hell, and it wasn’t even midmorning. The thing was, none of the transformers seemed to notice how blistering hot it was. True, since the Ark was under a mountain, it was kind of damp and chilly in there, but one could still taste the heat crawling in through the entrance like a parasite that would not be denied the taste of Spike’s sweat.

The youth sighed and wondered if he should go back inside to wait for Bumblebee. Seeing his distress to the heat for the past few days, the yellow mech had agreed to a good camping trip up in the mountains by the lake. He said it sounded like a great idea… as soon as he got permission from Prowl.

Spike rolled his eyes at that, but allowed his friend to go. As if that was going to happen. He just as wells lie in the sun and bake like a piece of bacon, sizzling sounds included. Prowl seemed nice enough, but he was a little up tight. Okay, a lot.

The human stood up, taking his hard hat off to run a hand through his sweaty hair. Turning, he couldn’t help but grin as he watched a very happy looking Bumblebee run up to him.

“Ready to go?” asked the human as he gave a grin to his close friend.

“Sure thing … but Jazz wants to know where we are going. He wants to see if he can drag Prowl out of his office a little later,” said the yellow mech sheepishly. “Along with some of the rest of the Autobots as well, especially Hound and Trailbreaker. They want to know what a human does while camping at the lake.”

Spike blinked once before he threw his head back in a laugh. “Sure thing Bumblebee, but it might be nightfall before they get Prowl to come out of his office. So let’s get going before the old man gets there before us. Dad will take all the good ground for his tent.”

The mini-bot merely laughed and was about to transform and allow his companion into his interior when there was a soft buzzing. He answered the comm. immediately, a smile on his face as he noticed how hard Blaster was struggling not to sound like complete slag. The older mechs really did drink too much.

“Sure he can come. The more the merrier. Tell him we are by the main entrance, and we’ll be waiting for him,” said the soldier, his expression soft as he announced their newest participant aloud for his human companion. “Seems Blaster wants us to take Eject. His circuits must still be hurting from all the energon he consumed.”

Spike just chuckled. Eject did have a motor mouth on him. It was no wondered Blaster let him go: he wanted to suffer in peace.

“Okay,” added the human. “How long do you think he’ll take?”

As soon as the words escaped the human, he saw Eject running their way, sliding to a stop and kicking up some dust like he was a baseball pro coming into second. He even had a bag slung over his shoulder, sports equipment evident though Spike thought all they would be doing was hiking and swimming. Then again, there might be a sport or two he would like to do.

“You ready?”

Eject shrugged, stating, “Well, it’s no season ticket, but it’ll do.”

…

No one stopped him.

No one got in his way.

No one even seemed to walk down the same hall. At least that was what Rumble’s CPU told him. Maybe another Decepticon had inquired why he looked like slag and that he was a femme for crying. Maybe Skywarp even threaten to squish him, but grew bored when he got no reaction. Maybe Prime and his troops were taking over the base he walked. He wouldn’t have noticed.

Nothing mattered anymore.

His own twin had rejected him and for good reason… he had killed his family. There were very few bonds in the ranks of Decepticons, but given the Cassette laws… family was one of them. You didn’t frag over your creator and siblings. They were your base and your purpose.

He had no purpose anymore.

Stalling in the hall, feeling another urge to fall to his knees and weep, a pain formed in his spark. Rumble quickly grabbed onto the inner agony and listened to his spark call out to where Soundwave’s part of the bond used to be. He knew there was nothing there. He knew it was inadvisable to look for a broken bond, that it was like letting water flowing out of a broken dam, but he pulled at it like he use to do when he had been much younger and scared. It was like he was demanding his creator’s location so he could hide in the rack’s chassis.

There was no vocal reply, of course, but something pulled back as if his Master was still there, just silent. Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was spark exhaustion. Maybe it was death willing one of his children to come home. Rumble did not care. He was going to wherever the beat was taking him. A beat like his Master’s spark.

And so, the blue cassette stumbled through the entire length of the Nemesis and then through the ocean until he found himself on dry land. He just kept stumbling though sand and mud and gunk. His hydraulics were whirling, whining as mud seemed to get through every crevasse. But he knew that beat. He knew it from his dream… it was that lake. That was what the waves sounded like as they slammed again the pillars and its dead wood.

He had to find that lake. He had to find that specific lake from his dreams. Even if he found Soundwave as a creature beneath the waters with a gaping hole and grabbing claws, at least he would have found his creator.

At least he would get to spend one more moment with his Master.

…

They had been on the road for about a week, stopping to ski or boat or fish. They really hadn’t stayed at one camping place for more than one night as they made their way to the campground Spike’s father use to take him to when he was a kid. He said it was kind of a pain to get there but the trip was worth it.

Just pals fishing.

Spike seriously needed more human friends. That was all Eject had thought at first, sick of the smolder ride in the vehicle, but at least at the first camp site Jazz and his the other’s had made an appearance. So there were now more than three of them. Seaspray had even managed to pull himself away from his precious ocean to have some fun.

And surprise, surprise, Prowl managed to weasel out of it. He claimed that Optimus needed his tactician nearby.

Jazz didn’t seem the least bit put off though. He was Prowl’s probably-only closest friend, but Jazz made friends in all circuits… even in a group of nature freaks. So the nights were anything but boring and the days were full of hikes, exploration and genuine intrigue.

Maybe sports weren’t the center of the universe. Nature was kind of interesting… Scratch that, nature adventures fell under the hiking, skiing, biking, hunting, and fishing categories, respectively, and therefore was a sport.

Pulled out of his thoughts by the pressing of brakes and the wooting of Jazz, Eject looked up from his card game with Sparkplug. The graying man put on a smile and his fishing hat before he jumped out of Jazz with the same exuberance his son had out of Bumblebee.

And it was no wonder. This place was beautiful. The lake looked like it had never been touched and there were pine trees reaching up so high that they made Prime seem short. He was impressed. Skiing was going to be awesome!

Turning towards Seaspray, the cassette was about to start hounding the other transformer for a quick lap around the lake so he could map out some prime water skiing terrain. Unfortunately, the next thing he knew there was a dry cry from the lake’s direction… undoubtedly Spike.

The youth had been in such a hurry jumping out of Bumblebee with only his swim shorts already on, that he hadn’t even checked the lake’s temperature. He had probably ran down to the water and jumped right in. The water was probably freezing. The cassette chuckled and looked up at the larger mech with big optics.

Luckily for him, none of the other mechs or humans seemed interested in the water after seeing Spike come back blue. It was far too late in the day to swim anyway, which meant he had the boat-former all to himself. A little cold water wasn’t going to stop him or Seaspray from enjoying the lake.

Stepping in front of the boat, the cassette grinned, “Hey, before we start the extracurricular activity of wood gathering for the night’s Olympics torch impersonation, can I and the ice diver have a quick scope of the lake. Please?”

The boat mech titled the head and dissected the sport dialect before he nodded his head, probably feeling pity for the human that was now at his feet, shivering.

“I don’t see why not,” he stated in a gurgling voice.

…

Rumble stared at the end of the dock, waiting for a burble of energon to rise to the surface. It had been seven or eight mega-cycles that he had been searching for the right lake. It felt like a vorn. His spark was so tight and painful. Every time it expanded in its casing, calling out for its creator, its twin, or even one of its siblings… there was no answer. He was too far away even if his fellow cassettes did decide he deserved to live. His very form shook from the agony.

He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate, but he couldn’t give in just yet. He knew that if that dream had been correct about his creator’s death… it must have been right about the Communication Officer being in the lake as well. Waiting.

Looking at the mud, grit, and blood (stupid organics didn’t know when to get out of the way) caking his hand, Rumble decided it was best to jump in. He had lost count of how many docks and lakes he had tried at his point. Part of him knew it was almost meaningless, earth was seventy-five percent water after all, but this lake felt familiar. It had to be the one in his dream. He was meant to make the plunge here. It was fate even if he was not meant to do more than drown.

Slowly standing up, despite the shaking of his legs, the cassette jumped in with a splash into the darkening waters. The timing was almost too perfect. The cassette didn’t even notice the blue boat skimming across the water’s surface before he went under.

“Hey, look!” cried Spike as he pointed out across the water, nearly losing his beach towel due to the speed of the water craft. “It’s the dock! That’s the dock me, dad, and gramps used to have lunch breaks on after a long day of doing nothing.”

The three figures laughed at the human’s joke.

“Wanna watch the sun set on the dock, guys?” continued the human, glad he had had enough foresight to bring bug spray.

The two Autobots were about to agree and enjoy the sight of the orange star setting, but then there was suddenly a weak flash on the two mechs’ radar. It was an unmistakable signal: Decepticon. The boat made a desperate turn to the only cover a boat could have: river reeds, the engine idling, and their sparks stalling while Spike looked unmistakably confused at the sudden loss of their jubilation.

Eject was even about to comm. for the rest of the crew when a blue hand shot out of the water near the dock. And then Rumble rose out of the water, crawling up to the dock, vents panting and limbs shaking.

True, one might not have even have known it was the cassette with how filthy he was, but the red visor gave him away as well as his voice. There was an angry scream. It was deep and echoing, seeming to even make the water shiver with its vengeance. Any other mech would have suspected a string of curses to follow after, but when the mech instead fell onto his aft and let out an echoing wail, everyone knew he wasn’t angry. His next words choked, “He’s not here! He’s not here. I know this is the lake. I know it is!”

The mech then started to outwardly weep, his whole form shivering as tears fell down his cheeks.

The human youth and the larger mech could only watch in gapped wonder from their cover in the reeds as the blue cassette yelled and screamed at the water. He then collapsed into a puddle of mud, water, gunk, and now tears on the dock.

The Autobot shifted nervously on the water.

Rumble had been in the water… looking from something. There was no doubt about that. Any Autobot would have thought it a sinister ploy if it weren’t for the fact that the cassette now had his hands over his visor, openly weeping. In the dim twilight, one could even make out the glow of energon tears dripping down the Con’s face.

“I-I didn’t know Decepticon’s knew how to cry,” whispered Spike, his eyes glued to the whimpering cassette like it was some horrific car accident and he just couldn’t look away.

The scientist also seemed puzzled, unable to comprehend what could be so terrible to make a Decepticon weep. Yes, he knew that Soundwave had been offlined and there was even a rumor that Sunstreaker had watched the little slagger crying before the body was viciously torn from the ground by a sneering Megatron, but it came from the drama queen himself so no one gave it much thought.

It didn’t explain why the little Con was in such a state of stress nearly two weeks later though. It just didn’t compute. Decepticon’s sometimes mourned their dead in their own cold, blood thirsty way, but Rumble looked like he was on the verge of a complete breakdown. His systems were dangerously low on energon as well if his color was indication and his systems seemed to be incredibly damaged with the way he was twitching involuntarily.

Maybe he had been damaged in the battle and had been wandering since, insane or CPU malfunctioning. Why else would he cry?

“But of course they can Spike. They are Cybertronians and have the same make-up of any mech, optic ducts included,” Seaspray stated in a hushed, water voice wondering if he should race back to report to Jazz or to watch a little longer. “He must be damaged to be so physically distraught and… filthy. Con’s are never very hygienic, but they are never this ghastly.”

“What do you think, Eject? You’re information on Rumble is far more personalized than mine,” added the boat.

Eject looked away from Rumble and towards the controls of the ship. He felt sick. He actually felt his internals choke, his engine whimpering. Soundwave’s cassettes weren’t dead… at least one of them wasn’t. He could tell his two companions to let the slagger be, and that Rumble was just having a hissy fit because he lost his ride and to let him be.

Blaster would never know.

Blaster would never have to uphold the vows of the cassette laws … but as an Autobot, could he do that? Could he turn his back on a fellow cassette that he knew would be dead in a few days if he did nothing?

Should he let Rumble offline? With how close he was to the water, he would probably fall in and no one would ever be any the wiser that there was a dead Con beneath the water, with nothing for company but water weeds and crabs.

Chapter Text

‘One should never burn bridges,’ that was what Sparkplug had said once, stating it was best to try and make more acquaintances then to cut people off. You never knew who would be your next boss or what kind of personality you are denying yourself the pleasure of.

Personally, Eject would rather burn the bridge, stomp on the ashes, and flood the dam up the stream because he had no want to get to know Rumble.

Part of him would rather the slagger die … but Eject wasn’t a Con. That’s what Decepticons did to one another. They abandoned the needy and left their own kind to deactivate. He knew what he should do. He knew he should be calling Jazz and Blaster, howling over the comm. that Rumble was going to offline if they just stood by and did nothing.

It seemed that this game had reached a stalemate though. He had to make a choice.

He could just take the championship, grind the competitor into the ground and be done with him … Or he could take the high road and save his fellow mech.

Spike looked at him once more, eyes wide as he asked again, “Well, what do you think? Cons don’t just start crying. Not like that.”

Shivering, Eject made a decision, his tank feeling like it was going to spill its contents. He bit his metal lip component and then, voice soft, he stated, “He’s crying because he’s dying alone. He cannot survive without his cassette carrier, a host. No young cassette can.”

He knew that his two companions were both staring at him, silent and shocked. How had none of them known about that? Well, why should they? It was a fact that mechs like Soundwave went to great lengths to hide as the war carried on. Also, the cassette rack laws were a cultural thing. Many didn’t know about it, like they didn’t know about trine-bonds either.

It was something that was mostly dead and forgotten, like the lights of Cybertron.

Seaspray was the first to make a sound, his voice sounding more strained that usual. “W-what do you mean by that? Are you s-saying he’s dying, right in ffffront of us?”

Another moment of silence, unable to look towards the wailing Decepticon, Eject nodded. “Yeah… he’ll be offline in a few hours. Maybe a day or two if he’s lucky.”

“I-I’m calling Jazz and he’ll get a hold of Ratchet,” stated Seaspray almost in a panic.

Eject plopped down in one of the seats on the boat in defeat and finally turned to look at Rumble who’s cries were growing softer, his form growing stiller. Soon Rumble would be lying down and completely still at this rate.

“Won’t matter. They won’t be able to do anything,” added the cassette. “Maybe the medics can comfort him as he deactivates.”

Seaspray ignored the depressed cassette, calling Jazz with a rushed apprehension. Eject didn’t hear his words over the comm link. He didn’t need to. He heard the roar of a sports engine on the other side of the lake as all the birds took off from their nests in a fright. Soon, all the mechs would be here and since he was the Communication Officer… Blaster would know as well.

An ache of desolation came through the bond at the thought.

Miles away in connection to that bond, Blaster (who had perked up a few days later since his hang over) felt the depression press through the spark bond. He might not have thought anything of the emotion at first if the emotion hadn’t suddenly been followed by a thousand other such emotions like regret, fear, shame, and hate.

It was unnerving.

He didn’t even have an idea of what had happened, but he was the kid’s caretaker and if he wasn’t there when Eject needed him, what kind of creator was he?

::Eject, what’s wrong?:: stated Blaster over the bond, rising to his feet and making Red Alert looked him up and down.

There was silence on the other side of bond, feelings being blocked immediately before the youth stated, a cynical feeling coming over, ::… Make Jazz tell you. I don’t fraggen want him!::

The elder mech almost cringed at the rush of disgust rushing through the bond.

::What… what’s wrong with you, Eject? Where is all this hate coming from? What does Jazz need to tell me… Are you being attacked?:: added Blaster as he turned to one of the keyboards and started typing in the coordinates for Eject’s exact location.

::No…:: said Eject reluctantly, trying to have two conversations at once. Seaspray was talking to him as he pulled up to shore. The mech nearly stumbled over himself as he transformed, picking up Spike. Eject merely jumped out of the boat and onto land as he ignored the questions. He was too busy pouting. Yes, it was childish, but why couldn’t they just leave the fragger to die?

It seemed less than a klick later when Jazz suddenly appeared in the long reeds, the mech trying to keep out of Rumble’s line of sight. Eject didn’t know why he bothered though. Fragger had probably shorted out his optics with the way he was wailing. That didn’t stop Jazz from pressing a hand on Eject’s back so that they could move farther into the reeds, the youth’s frown deep as he turned his head to ignore the weeping.

“Yo, Eject man,” whispered Jazz once he felt they were hidden sufficiently, the Third in Command going down on one knee as he eyed the youngest Autobot of the group. “I might not have believed Rumble was here at all, weepin’, if I hadn’t seen it myself. Now tell me little man, Seaspray was trying to give me a lowdown that Rumble’s dyin’. What’s going on? Is this a trap or should I call Skyfire and the Hatchet.”

Eject wanted to stomp the ground, allow his youngling attitude to rise to the surface enraged, but he did not. He was having enough trouble blocking out a worried caretaker at the moment.

“I think we should let the slagger take a dive, game over if you know what I mean,” hissed the youth momentarily, before his shoulder’s sagged at the stern look that overcame Jazz’s face. “… But Blaster would never forgive me. The slagger is dying, Jazz. A cassette can’t survive, especially alone, for very long with a host. It’s a team game you know… his half-spark just can’t survive.”

Jazz’s back went ridged at the prospect and he turned his head as a rather loud whimper rose from the dock. Something certainly was wrong with Rumble. There was no doubt about that. The Con was out of his noggin’ at the very least. With how many had died during the war, every mech counted if they could be saved. Well, except for maybe Megatron.

“I got ya, little mech. It seems that our vacation is going to be cut short then,” added the officer as he gave Hound a quick comm to be silent as the mech pulled up with Sparkplug, the grass parting silently for the green mech.

The Third in Command then direction his comm link elsewhere, speaking to command.

It was easy to say, not three klicks later, that Blaster knew exactly what Eject had been so upset about. He was pressing into the bound with almost a painful determination. The cassette actually whimpered from its intensity. Generally, Blaster would stall at that, feeling the pain, but the mech needed information and refused to let up.

Trying to ignore his fellow Autobots (all of whom were now on their bellies in the grass, watching Rumble as if he were some kind of wild animal that might run off scared), Eject reluctantly allowed the bond open.

::Eject! Sorry if I hurt you little buddy, but I am your creator! Don’t block me off like that, especially if someone’s life is in danger. Now, Jazz gave me the lowdown of what he thought was going on, but I need to hear it from you… because then I need to make some choices.::

Eject allowed a flow of images of Rumble on the dock come over the link and he felt Blaster shiver through the bond, pity escaping his creator.

Eject, personally, let his own feelings be known as Blaster went over his choices. ::I will never accept him as a brother, Blaster. I will never accept him. He will always be a bloodthirsty Con as far as I’m concerned.::

There was no reply for a few moments over the bond, yet there was not a disciplining tone either as his master reply softly, ::Ratchet will be by in a few hours with Skyfire to get you and Rumble. I must prepare and make some… decisions. Safe travels, my spark.::

Eject wanted to ask, scream even, why this stranger, an enemy, mattered more than his opinions, but he knew the Cassette Rack Obligations as well as any cassette if they ever found themselves alone. He didn’t like to think about it himself, but he knew that if Blaster had died before Soundwave, the Con might have tried to claim him saying it was for Eject’s benefit.

At the mere thought, Eject shivered. He would have rather offlined first. A dark part of him hoped Rumble felt the same way.

…

A few groons felt more like a few klicks to Eject. He couldn’t even look at Ratchet as the bulky medic scowled down at him before getting on his belly next to Jazz. They were all still spying on the cassette who was still whimpering, but was now curled up into a ball. His dock haven still hadn’t been penetrated. Fragger didn’t even know they were there.

“Pathetic, slagger. Though I understand why he’s acting like this though. A broken bond and all. It’s hard to believe Soundwave had one of these symbiotic bonds. I mean those Cassette Rack Laws are worthy of an Autobot more than a Con. How Megatron convince him to join his cause is beyond me,” stated Ratchet, knowing part of the story from Blaster now.

It was hard believing that Soundwave could have ever made such a vow for his cassettes. Then again, he died trying to save Rumble if the rumor Sunstreaker had started wasn’t really a rumor. The cassette must be traumatized, falling into his creator’s innards like that.

Sighing, readying a injection to put the cassette out so he could be transported easily (and so Ratchet could do an quick examination), the medic stated, “Well, with the readings I’m getting from here he won’t have the energy to activate his weapons for that matter try to escape… unless drowning is considered an escape tactic.”

With that said, the healer rose, his destination obvious. Jazz automatically put out a hand as if to stop him, but cringed when he got a glare from the harpy. When Ratchet wanted something… he got it. And that was a lesson that Rumble was soon to learn. Not that he even noticed the medic strolling down the creaky, wooden dock until there was a yelp and a mouthful of Cybertronian cursing.

His head buried in his hands, Rumble suddenly turned towards the sound. His shoulders went stiff, fear stabbing through his spark so forcibly that he was sure even without Soundwave as a medium that his siblings had felt it. He had every right to be frightened. He was low on energon, defenseless and down the way was an Autobot.

True, the medic’s one leg had broken through a rotting plank and said Autobot was now struggling to lift himself up, but he was still there … with a small army behind him. Rumble’s sensors, which had been turned off because of energy consumption issues, now picked up several Autobots in the area… and the shuttle was hard to miss being that he almost towered over the trees. Skyfire was a pathetic hider as well, mind you.

Not giving it another thought, the cassette quickly struggled to his feet, noting that the medic had noticed his sudden movement. The medic even dared to growl at him. “Don’t move, little slagger, you are in critical condition right now. I need to examine you.”

Rumble shuddered, not from the sudden loss of equilibrium from standing up, but from the thought of the medic touching him… any medic really. Soundwave was his medic. Soundwave had been his only healer and when the blue Con started weeping here he had accepted that his master would be his only medic.

He was going to die here today. He needed to die here … by the water.

Honestly, the medic just proved one thing: Autobots didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. Thankfully, he was never really good at listening either though.

Regaining his stability, Rumble looked around in a panic, trying not to note that that the Third in Command was now at the medic’s side trying to help him out of the hole.

Frag. Frag! Frag it all! Why were they here at all? He hadn’t attacked anybody. He hadn’t really bothered one squishy getting here. None were dead at least. He hadn’t really made a peep. He hadn’t even stolen much of anything. Why where they here?

Turning his gaze from the water to the Autobots once more, Rumble suddenly noticed that one of them was extra mini… cassette size … and the other cassette was glaring.

No. No. No! The Cassette Rack obligations. He had never even considered that the other cassette rack on the planet would notice him before his death. That explained the medic as well as the scowl on other cassette’s face. It seemed that the Autobots had no plans of letting him rejoin his master.

Blaster had no plans of allowing him to rejoin his real master. Master is what Blaster planned to become.

Never.

Without really giving it much thought after that, Rumble suddenly jumped in the water hearing a yell from the medic as he went beneath the water. It was at that present moment that Rumble wished that transformers could really swim, because he was going to have to hit the bottom and then run from that point. And it was proving to be a slower descent then he initially thought. Frag his empty fuel tanks!

Unfortunately, a second form was suddenly crashing beneath the waves and unfortunately gravity had been on the second mech’s side. The other mech was heavier which caused him to hit the ground first, stirring up dirt and destroying all sight under the water. Rumble barely had time to even realize what Jazz –being the mech was gray- had done before arms quickly pulled him close, pinning him like a stubborn child.

Rumble did the only thing he could at this point: kicking and screaming (gurgling) under the waves, his mind caring little about the warnings that were popping up on his HUD. Being low on energon was the least of his problems, especially when Jazz started moving forward making them quickly break through the surface of the lake.

“Put me down, Auto-aft! I was minding my own business!” howled the youth, giving a few more tired kicks before going limp, glaring as Jazz made his way to shore. Rumble knew it was a losing battle from the beginning, but he couldn’t help but be bitter about it.

The medic was the first to greet the two and Rumble couldn’t help but cringe away as he felt a scan fall over his form.

“Rumble, you are dangerously low on energon and your spark signature is erratic. It is in your best interest to head back to the Autobot base with us as soon as possible in order to stabilize your … half spark,” said Ratchet carefully, the cassette went stiff.

Rumble’s metallic teeth were suddenly bared, fury chasing over his systems. There was only one way the medic would know that… Blaster had told the medic about it. And the only reason the boom box would tell said healer was so that Ratchet could watch over him as he accepted Rumble’s broken frequency and matched it to his own.

“Frag no! I’m not going anywhere with you! I will not become Blaster’s property!” yelled Rumble finally trying a squishy method and biting the hand that was holding him. Jazz reacted mostly in surprise as he dropped the cassette to the ground. Jazz immediately hissed something about a mean little slagger and this better not get infected, but Rumble was too furious to care as he started to trip away.

“Tell that slagger I’ll not be his pawn!” Rumble yelled, the warning systems making his processor ache.

Ratchet merely grumbled his reply, not threatened at all as Rumble struggled to stand. “So tell me youngling, would you rather deactivate then?”

Rumble, who had been so full of rage that his visor was glowing, suddenly stalled, his spark skipping a beat. He was deathly silent for a moment, long enough for the wind to crash between the distance of the medic and cassette, blowing the reeds nearby and filling the air with the scent of water weeds and mud.

It was barely a whisper as Rumble’s head dipped, his frailty revealed only for a moment as the wind carried his words. “I … I … No, not really.”

Yet, before Ratchet could reply, Rumble yelled almost childishly, “But I’m not going to be Blaster’s pawn either! Frag you, Auto-creeps!”

Surprisingly, the medic didn’t put up a chase when the cassette turned to run. He even put out his servo to stall Jazz and Trailbreaker from chasing the cassette. Then, before anyone could ask why they were stalled, there was a thump as the little Con’s optics blinked and he plowed himself into the wet earth. He was out cold.

Ratchet almost looked smug as he turned to the SIC and stated, “I told him he was low on energon… dangerously low.”

Eject was frowning at this, caring little how gently Ratchet picked up Rumble or how he cradled him close to his chassis like a broken bird. Skyfire was already transformed and waiting for everyone to get on. Instead, Eject’s words were harsh and true as the youth flowed the medic up to the shuttle. “Was I the only one that heard what the slaggen Con said? He doesn’t want to be Blaster’s cassette and as an Autobot, we can’t force him.”

Trailbreaker cringed at this, Seaspray and Hound both gave each other worried looks as well. They all knew it was true. Jazz merely sighed. This mood was really killing his jive and he’d end up acting like his close friend, Prowl, soon, which he really didn’t want to do.

Ratchet’s feet continued though, clanking on that metal surface as his form was consumed by the shadows of Jetfire’s interior. The medic was silent for a moment before he replied, “Well… then as Autobots we’ll respect his decision and make sure he is as comfortable as possible … and hope he changes his mind.”

Ratchet’s next words were almost haunting as he added, “Our numbers grow less and less every day, Eject. If we can save just one, we will. As Autobots we must at least try. Come now, youngling, Blaster wants to talk to all of his cassettes before any choices are made.”

Regardless of how true Ratchet’s words were and how old the host obligations were, the truth still stung. A part of Eject couldn’t handle it. Blaster and the war had forced the youth to grow up and act more adult. Yet, he wasn’t an adult as much as he tried to be. Realistically, he was still a child and had youthful tendencies. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that, because everyone seemed incredibly surprised when Eject had a fit.

“Frag all of you! Frag Blaster and his obligations! I hope the Con offlines because I’ll never accept him! I will not have that murderer as a brother!”

Expressions of horror and disgust filled the grassy lakeside, especially when Eject suddenly turned tail towards the woodlands and retreated, energon tears barely even noticed as he wiped them from his cheek. Jazz was even going to run after him and use his privileges as the Second to discipline the youth, but a voice raised over the others.

“Let him go. He needs time to think.”

Heads swiveled and most of the mechs were surprised of the origin. Jazz even asked, “Yo, Sparkplug, you can’t be serious, my man. He’s a soldier and Blaster is his unit leader. He just can’t hightail it like that. That’s borderline desertion.”

The old man sighed, rubbing his five o`clock shadow before he replied in a tired tone, “But you also seem to forget he’s more than that. From what I understand, hanging out with Blaster and the other cassettes, Eject is little more than a teenager or child. He’s being forced into a lot of adult ideals … his behavior was that of a boy, not a solider for once.”

Hound twitched, frowning, and Jazz continued to look stern though until the parent finally added.

“Let him blow off steam, Jazz. Me and the kid will stick around and finish our camping trip with whoever wants to stay. Hopefully, he’ll cry himself hoarse by then and will be ready to go home with us.”

Nodding his head, finally in acceptance, Jazz headed to the shuttle, stating in a clipped tone that reminded everyone why he was the Third in Command, “Perhaps you are right. The kid’s still a kid, but hopefully he cools off soon. My man Blaster doesn’t want to make this … transition… without all his little buddies if you get me. They are his family.”

Sparkplug nodded, waving off his robotic companions as they took to the air, replying almost soundless compared to the shuttle engines. “I’ll make sure to remind him of that.”

Chapter Text

Blaster wandered back and forth in the medical bay, First Aid trying to take his vitals the whole time.

“Please… hold… still… Blaster… I need to… get…your … vitals.”

“Why isn’t old Hatchet back yet? The kid has been without a stable spark to feed off for weeks, get me, and I need him coherent so he can talk… I need him to consciously accept me,” muttered Blaster, stalling and nearly causing First Aid to run into him.

“I’m sure they are not that long off. Jetfire is very reliable,” stated First Aid, finally getting the readings he needed.

Blaster was about to reply that the medic had said that already four times in the last groon, but a deep baritone voice beat him to the punch, “You are making him nervous First Aid by stating that so often.”

The two mechs turned as a large frame slowly entered the medical bay, a wave of power seeming to wash over the entire room. Most mechs never said anything about his large EM field, but it always took a few vorns to get use to it. It was always a little overwhelming yet calming at the same time.

It was not soothing for Blaster at the current moment. He actually went ridged, a wave of guilt coming over him as he sat down on the berth First Aid had originally set him on. He slumped a little bit, forcing a chipper tone to his voice, “Yo, Prime. How’s it hanging?”

The large mech crossed the room with his long strides easily, his energy seeming to wash over the Communications Officer. Blaster’s plating defensively pulled tight against his form, suddenly feeling threatened. True, he knew Prime would never intentionally hurt him, but what of the … cassette? By Rack Law he couldn’t just deny Soundwave’s cassette, but Rumble was a security risk at the same time. He was dangerous and technically the enemy.

If it came right down to it… would he choose his ancient customs or the Autobots regulations?

Prime, perhaps noting Blaster’s internal distress, placed a calming hand on the red mech’s shoulder, rubbing against one of the tight seems in a comforting manner. He want the boom box to know he wasn't baleful towards him. After a few moments of this, Optimus pulled up on of the medical stools and stared at the red mech for a klick before his voice washed over the other in a comforting manner.

“Prowl and Red Alert nearly talked my audios off. Ratchet also sent me a comm as well, but their opinions on the situation are inadequate. I need your opinion in this respect. It seems you are the only one that will truly be affected by this if I understand the situation correctly,” he added.

Blaster sighed, the jazz in his attitude completely spent. There was no music in his spark right now.

Waving his hand, the tubing in his throat tight, he stated, “Physically, yeah… taking on a cassette would only effect me and my cassettes, but … I understand everyone else’s worries, Prime.”

“Yes, from what I understand, Ratchet is worried the cassette will be deactivated within a day or two, even with medical attention, if something is not done,” added Optimus, catching the surprise in Blaster’s stance. The cassette rack probably thought that he was going to cite Prowl’s or Red Alert’s verbose opinions about security or protocols. Blaster knew that one of Soundwave’s cassettes forced into the ranks… it would not be good for moral or security, but it would also be disgraceful for them to do nothing.

Nodding his head, Blaster added, “Yes, without Soundwave to support Rumble's half spark, or at least having his sibling’s around to keep him at least partially stable, he will offline quickly.”

Optimus nodded in understanding. “I also realize you have… cassette rack laws? They enact that if there is ever a lost cassette without a holder and no one for their prospects, you are to offer yourself up. Is that correct?”

Plating pulling in close for a moment, Blaster nodded. “...Yes, and I will uphold those traditions, but I’m also an Autobot. Technically, taking in a Decepticon cassette is an infraction to that belief. I’ll take him in if he accepts me… but I don’t want to … I won't control him. I’m supposed to protect him and guild him. I will not make him a slave to my will.”

Optimus stared for a moment as if taking in the mech's words before he stood up, the ringing of a comm filling the room. Not a klick later First Aid was running out of the room with what the two presumed was a spark stabilizing device. Blaster tried not to cringe. Ratchet was back. He could already hear the roar of Skyfire’s engines landing.

The Prime, as if feeling the smaller mech's trepidation, patted him on the shoulder. “I believe they are more correlating than you think, Blaster. An Autobot is honorable, kind, and self sacrificing… and the Cassette Rack Laws seem no different. No matter the choice you make today with Rumble, I will support it.”

Blaster, platting loosening a bit, allowed his EM field to spread out slightly and brush against Optimus' EM field in a form of accaptance. As usual, Optimus' field was as overwhelming and as comforting as usual. He should have known better than to doubt his commander even for a moment.

“Now don’t look so scared, old friend. He is but a youth. How hard can it be?” chuckled Optimus as he started to walk away.

Giving a dry laugh himself, Blaster called after, “Wait until you and Elita1 have bittlets. Then, you’ll know how scary they truly can be.”

…

Rumble twitched, his systems suddenly raging back to life… barely. He was dizzy and agony. His spark seemed to be struggling even keep a pulse. He shivered. Where was Soundwave? Where was the warmth of his spark? Where was the pulse to keep him sane?

The world jostled and he groaned, curling up against something warm. Yes, warm. There was a metallic ting to it as well. Was it another Cybertronain? Yes, yes, it was, and no other mech would ever cradled him against their chest like this, near their spark except for Soundwave.

“S-Soundwave. W-where have you been? I-I dreamed you were d-d-deactivated,” whispered the cassette, his visor flickering as tears started to fall down his cheeks again, his mind delirious.

Ratchet stalled in his fast, gait walk to the medical bay. He immediately loosen his grip on the little form staring as Rumble's very paint color seemed to fade by the nano-klick.

First Aid, who was next to him, stalled. He was nearly ran into by a weapon bound Ironhide and an unhappy looking Prowl whose lights were flashing in annoyance.

“He needs to be properly searched,” grumbled Ironhide.

“And I haven’t had a meeting on the subject yet. You cannot just drag a dangerous cassette like that in here with at least mine or Prime’s approval,” added Prowl, his lights finally turning off. “There are regulations to be followed when a war criminal is brought into the base.”

Ratchet clicked softly to the youth for a moment as if he was a newspark, ignoring the other mechs before he pulled Rumble’s weakened form close again as if trying to protect the frail being from the officer's cruel words. Rumble’s health had taken a drastic turn while in the air. It was a wonder why he hadn't gone into spark shock. Ratchet didn’t want to press Blaster’s decision, but Rumble’s obvious depression was drastically enabling his spark decay.

It would not be long at this rate.

“But I have given my okay on the situation, Prowl,” stated Optimus as he stepped out of the medical bay, coming forward in elegantly long strides to stall in front of Ratchet.

Slowly, his hand reached for the cassette. In that moment, Ratchet felt defensive and cupped Rumble’s head, baring back slightly. So, instead of touching the small blue form, Optimus' large finger ran against the medic's fingers. Ratchet immediately sighed when he noticed the hurt teek in Optimus' field. He should have know better. Rumble wasn't in any danger. It was just that… he felt nothing but contempt for the cassette from everyone they had passed so far.

Optimus, their religious figure, their leader, would never be so shallow.

Opening his hands, Ratchet revealed the weeping form to everyone in the hall, a small hand reaching for the chassis Rumble had just been leaning against. The youth had been listening to Ratchet’s spark this whole time likely imagining it was Soundwave’s spark.

It was heartbreaking to watch.

Optimus Prime’s engine coughed a sad note and he slowly ran a finger over the youngling’s cheek plating in a form of comfort, his powerful EM field washing over everyone there. This close, this personal, Rumble did seem far too young to be stained by war. Hopefully, he would get a semblance of a childhood amongst the Autobots. Blaster was a kind mech.

Slowly, the Prime pulled his hand away when Rumble engine’s hiccupped, the tears falling faster

“He seems much younger… without all that hate,” was all the Prime stated, before becoming tight in his shoulders. “I will leave you to your work Ratchet. Prowl, we will have that meeting now if you’d like, and Ironhide you may serve as a guard in the medical bay.”

He then inclined his helm towards Ratchet once more and walked off, Prowl giving the small cassette a look before following after.

The next few yards to the medical bay almost seemed surreal at that point, and as Ratchet stepped into his medical bay itself … he suddenly felt like a stranger in his own bay. Especially when he met Blaster’s gaze from that berth, the cassette rack running a curious hand over his chassis. The red mech seemed nervous, yet he mustered courage from somewhere, his peds echoing as he landed on the floor.

There was a moment of stillness like a mother looking at her lost child trying to catch its scent, see a birthmark or some other undeniable proof that this was her lost child.

Ratchet, knowing the time constraints they had, closed the distance, stating in almost a hushed tone as not to disturb the stillness, “His vitals are getting worst, Blaster. I could put him in stasis now, but he may never wake again. He’s a little out of it, but this will probably be the only time you will have to talk to him.”

Blaster nodded and then in an action that seemed far to meek for the usually boisterous mech, Blaster took the cassette from Ratchet. He was already humming in his chest as he pulled Rumble’s limp form to his chassis.

Giving the medic one more terrified gaze, Blaster pressed his entire EM field outward causing both Rumble and Ratchet to react immediately. The medic took a step back, the energy far too intimate and not meant for him. Rumble, in turn, reacted like a half starved babe that just realized a tit was nearby.

His optics were now online, if not dull, and he had started to claw weakly at the seam that led to the cassette rack, clicking softly.

“Shh, shh, none of that. Now Rumble, little partner, Soundwave is deactivated,” said Blaster carefully, petting the youngling's helm. “And, even if you have a confirmed carrier for the Cassette Rack Obligations, you’re too far gone. Little buddy, you either need to accept me as your new host or… fade? You understand?”

Rumble turning into the touch, blinked his optics in confusion.

After what felt like forever, Ratchet and Blaster both holding completely still as to not make a sound, the cassette answered in slow, struggling words. Each breath exhaled was a word, “Accept … you? But… you’re … an … Autobot.”

“Yeah and you’lh have to go neutral at least, kid. It’s better than deactivation, isn’t it? Which means more, Rumble? Soundwave’s fraction or being alive?” he asked, holding the limp form like a loosely stitched doll that was just falling apart at the seams.

Rumble shivered, a click escaping him as small fingers tried to grasp onto the seams in Blaster’s armor. “W-what does it matter?! S-Soundwave’s gone. H-he died because of me! H-he died trying to get me-e and I’m all alone.”

Tears started to drip down his cheeks from underneath his visor again before he stated, “I-I’ve never been alone… I don’t want to deactivate alone!”

He then curled up as best as he could into a ball, pressing his face into the host's chest as whimpers escaped him while tears streamed down his face like a lost fountain, rediscovered. Blaster paid no mind to Ratchet’s surprised expression nor Ironhide’s face. They would not understand. They were not born with these bonds nor the want to support such bonds. They would not understand the fear of being unable to feel another in one’s spark.

Sparkmates maybe could understand and seeker trines, but not a normal everyday mech.

Clicking softly as if the youth was a new spark, he murmured, “It’s okay. It’s alright. You don’t have to feel alone anymore. Shh. Now, come on. Now, listen to me. I need you accept my spark, now while you’re still conscious. I’d rather not rush this little buddy, but we can work out the fine details later… okay?”

His words were godly, almost saint-like as all color and sound dropped off into nothing. There was only Blaster’s voice, “I am a protector. I shall protect all of those who reside in my chest with care and compassion. My spark will offer harbor and strength on which they may grow and prosper. I shall protect all my charges with all the strength of my body and will, be they split from my own spark or that of another’s. They are my charges, my creations, and today I will accept another one, my spark warming him with its embrace. This is so, the Cassette Rack and Host Obligations.”

Rumble no longer was weeping as loudly, but tears were still running down his cheeks. He didn’t want to be so loud that he couldn’t hear the promise made just for him. He knew that Soundwave had once said the same thing, the day of his creation, but he was just a sparkling then and couldn’t hope to remember the words.

Perhaps he could falsify the memory now that he knew the words.

Regardless, he felt safe all of a sudden, the feel of Blaster’s chest opening and a heavenly light raining down on him. He gazed at it for a moment through the racks that lay in front of the spark. He wanted to reach a hand out and at least touch the case and feel its warmth, but Blaster spoke again, interrupting his thoughts.

“Rumble… will you accept my vow?” came the voice through the haze. “Never will I break it as long as you uphold your obligations as cassette to be good to your brothers or sisters, be they made of the same spark or not, and to obey your cassette rack for he is your survival and you are his. Voices mending together, protecting each other as a unit, an extension of one spark, until the time you develop a complete spark. Do you uphold the duty to be a companion and guide of all those who reside in the bond?”

Fingers pulling into a fist, his voice dead to the world for a moment, Rumble finally spoke, not one harsh word escaping him, “W-what do I got-t to lose?”

It was more a surrender, they both knew it, but Rumble felt he could say no more. He vaguely heard the medic talking and Blaster telling him to transform. He was almost there. His brothers didn’t want him anymore anyway. He had known of Soundwave’s coming demise and had done nothing. He deserved to be stripped away from his real siblings. He deserved to be punished by the Autobots… or at least be locked in Blaster’s chest forever. Though he doubted the mech would do that… his spark felt so warm.

It was so caring.

So, in the back of his CPU, he called up his systems to help him transform… and he did, slowly and painfully. Then he was lifted up and bathed in that spark's light, a click resounding in his head before he fell into that bath of warmth, another presence beating into him.

He was not alone anymore.

Chest clicking closed, Blaster placed a hand calmly over his chassis feeling his spark expand outward towards its next charge. It felt for the hole where Soundwave had once been and filled it like a ravine filling with water and overflowing.

The host immediately swayed on his peds, Ratchet grabbing him under his servo while stating, “Whoa there, Blaster. Come on, let’s get you to the berth as your spark expands and adapts for another cassette.”

Blaster chuckled at that, allowing himself to be led, “I’m okay. I’m just a little bit overwhelmed. The kid’s giving me a lot of information over the forming bond.”

Ratchet gave the red mech an estranged look as he helped the quickly tiring cassette rack to a berth. He watched Blaster hold his chassis as if he were expecting the folded cassette to suddenly burst out of his chassis like a scene from Alien.

Quickly hooking up the Communication Officer to a medical berth before his systems forced him into recharge, the medic asked, “So he’s as young as I thought then? You were calling him a kid.”

The red mech sighed and waved his hand at the medic watching as he was plugged into monitor after monitor. Blaster knew that he looked atrocious, but this was normal. His spark was expanding beyond its casing and into his very chassis, reaching for its newest charge. In fact, his EM field was almost tangible like electricity in the air.

For the next few days his spark would be this way, bonding and adjusting to the adopted half-spark. The medic probably wouldn’t be taking an optic off him the whole time either despite how normal this was.

“Well,” stated the red mech as he started to go into recharge. “He’s about the age of Bumblebee and Eject. Kid’s younger than you thought and if he’s that young… Well, Ratbat is probably offline. If he was not in Soundwave’s chassis that is. It would explain all the guilt coming through the forming bond.”

Ratchet forced a cube into the mech’s hand before he could go into recharge, growling, “Drink this first, slagger. Can’t have you offlining. And why would he be deactivated already?”

“The youngest go first,” explained the mech who was being supported by the medic’s hand to keep him sitting upright. “Over time a half spark, feeding off its creator's or host's spark, will slowly develop into its own spark. Some cassettes will then get a fully sized body or remain with their rack. The younger the spark… the smaller it is and the less time the cassette has.”

Ratchet frowned at this, but nodded in acknowledgment.

He was not a big fan of this whole Cassette Laws thing but he would respect it. It was a kind thing to do, an Autobot thing to do, and given that Rumble would be under the sway of Blaster's spark, Ratchet had a feeling that the kid would reform… maybe. Rumble was a little hellion, even he could see that, but seeing him in such a fragile state… he had a feeling the old Rumble wasn’t around anymore.

Shaking his helm nonetheless, the thought of younglings dying troubled him. No matter their allegiance.

Lying the nearly offline Blaster onto his back, the medic promised, “Don’t worry, Blaster. We’ll send Mirage to check as see if any of the others were outside of Soundwave’s chassis. For now, rest.”

“Sure thing… rest… sounds… good.”

And then Blaster was out like a light.

…

Light years away, at Starscream’s heels on a landscape of metal and rust, Ravaged stalled, her ears perking up. Without Soundwave around she couldn’t feel her siblings unless they were nearby, but for a flicker of a moment she felt fear shiver through the weak bond. Even when Soundwave was alive… that would have been hard to do.

Rumble had been frightened, then enraged, and now there was nothing.

He was deactivated, wasn’t he?

She stalled, her every want to turn back to the space bridge and check on her charges, but a screechy voice reminded her why she was here and she needed to do.

“What’s up runt? I thought you wanted to come to Cybertron to find a new carrier? Bunch of lazy slaggers. What? Can’t walk on your own?” mocked Starscream, mostly just pissed that he had been carting her around Cybertron as she looked for another carrier. It was part of their deal though… unguarded thoughts revealed many things.

So, straightening her shoulders in a proud manner, she headed forward. She would not make the same mistake as her master. She would not risk all of them for just the safety of one. That didn’t mean she didn’t love Rumble. She did, but sometimes love is cruel.

She would carry on.

Trudging behind the irritated seeker as they entered a populated area, she did her best to remain in the shadows in order to hide her tears. It had been a long time since Ravage had cried, but it was too much now. She not only lost her creator… she was losing her family as well.

T-this was all Megatron's fault.

Chapter Text

Starscream yawned and settled down into a seat, a twitchy server coming over to him to see what he would like. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to go straight to Shockwave’s labs, but he hated the purple slagger… so he’d take in the sights. It was a wonder, the top heavy hitters fall to some dirt ball for a few millennia and Cybertron slowly starts easing itself back to life.

Perhaps Primus had never meant for any of them to wake on Earth, rebuilding his metallic haven with nothing but Empties, Neutrals and a few forgotten soldiers.

Part of him, a deep religions part that still lingered, wanted him to weep like a child that had just damaged his god’s garden, his planet, but then some ugly dark thing covered in greed and rage would raise its head and howl like some beast climbing from the mud. It wanted to know why Primus had buried him so deep in a world of darkness, sickness and pain to begin with.

Primus must be a vengeful god indeed if he existed at all. Just look at the proof. There, down the decaying streets, was the oldest cassette sibling threatening, begging, pleading for any mechs to tell her of a surviving cassette rack.

There would be none.

Megatron might not completely comprehend the cassette and host bonds, but Starscream did. He knew that even as they spoke the little monsters without developed sparks were dying, fading away with their stoic master.

He would miss none of them… well, maybe Ratbat. Every time he saw the little slagger he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself about the senator that had had the same name. The fate that had befallen him was truly deserving. Soundwave might have thought nobody truly knew that Ratbat’s name should have been Ratbat Jr. To have that done to one until they died… he didn’t know if it was kinky or torturous. Regardless, he laughed again.

=What is so funny?= came a metallic grumble, Ravage coming up to him and growling at the server who had just brought the flier his drink. Before the Seeker could even take a sip, she had elegantly jumped onto the table and taken a few laps of his drink.

Starscream would have screeched in disgust and reached forward to grab the greedy kitty, but he liked his fingers where they were. Plus, he was getting a call ...

Ignoring the femme, which was what many Decepticons always seemed to forget about Ravage, he turned on his comm. link and stated, “What do you want, Shockwave?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, the caller probably wondering how Starscream knew it was them. Shockwave, when he spoke, gave no recognition if that was indeed the fact. His vocals were cold and stoic as usual.

“Starscream, report, you are grossly late. You have been planet side for nearly two groons. Are your flight abilities disabled?”

The Seeker shrugged as if the other could see him and stated in an oily voice that was almost mockingly sweet, “Why? Were you worried about me, Shockwave? I didn’t know you cared?”

Not even missing a beat, the cold mech replied, “I only cared to know if I’d have to take Blackout to the space bridge myself or not. What is your estimated arrival time?”

Starscream tried not to growl as he added, “As soon as a kitty cat stealing my fraggen drink stops trying to woo every big chassised mech she runs into!”

There was silence on the other line, Shockwave obviously confused before he asked, “Please clarify what you mean by that.”

“Nothing much Shockwave, except Ravage wants to get intimately close to your spark I’m sure. She’s desperate at this point,” Starscream laughed, already guessing that the cat-former was going to ask Shockwave to be their new cassette rack. After all, her creator and the guardian knew each other well and got along. Some might have even called them friends.

A slight stuttering noise echoed over the line for a moment before it went dead. The Seeker, at first confused, threw his helm back promptly with a cackle, loving the reaction he had gotten. It was rare to get under the othe's armor. The purple mech must have taken that all the wrong way and was probably now welding his chassis shut.

Oh joy.

Regardless, he had better things to do, though he loved the glare the cat-former was giving him about the spark joke.

True, Ravage had been planning to ask the purple mech to be their host, but now the nearly emotionless mech probably thought that she probably wanted intercourse. Not that she would mind. She was older than most mechs thought and she didn’t get a lot even though she was a femme, but that was beside the point. She needed someone dependable… someone safe.

Well, safe by Decepticon standards. She as positive that she was going to have to repeatedly say no to live experimentation. Shockwave being … well, Shockwave.

…

Blackout chuckled as he heard the roar of jet engines and turned to look upward at the dome-like ceiling above them. The streak of red was all he needed to see to know who it was. Turning back to the examination table he was on, wires coming out of his chassis and rack, he looked at Shockwave and darkly chuckled, “Megatron’s whore is here.”

Shockwave stalled for a moment, looking at the mech with an unreadable expression. Well, his EM field was unreadable. He already didn't have much of a face. Blackout nearly chuckled at the thought.

“Whore?” Questioned the purple mech as he turned back to his data screen. “A human expletive I believe. Explain your reasoning for that conclusion.”

Blackout’s blades twitched for a moment before he stated, “There is no way that traitor could keep such a high position that long unless he was fragging Megatron. That’s my conclusion.”

The purple mech was silent for a nano-klick before he answered, “Conclusion wrong and lacks evidence.”

Blackout opened his mouth, having seen the gleam in the other’s optic, but his question was cut off when he heard the click of turbine heels come into the room. He turned his wire-covered helm to see a cocky seeker stepping into the room along with a … cassette? Blackout almost smiled. It was an adult one too… oh, Scorponok would be so excited. He really needed someone to play with.

Unnoticed by anyone in the room, a second cassette compartment opened under the helicopter’s back and a tape fell out, transforming almost soundlessly before its multiple legs hit the floor. It was a scorpion-like cassette and generally he would ‘curr’ at this point and play with the copter’s roters, but instead his creator sent a private link telling the cassette to peek around the berth and take a look at his new sibling… because he knew there were no other cassette racks on the planet.

The scorpion-bot’s multiple eyes came around the corner and he watched as the cat-former sat on its haunches and listened to the Seeker screech at Shockwave.

It wasn’t until Shockwave shooed her away, telling her she didn’t have clearance for this conversation, that the other cassette got a good look at her. The femme even had the audacity to pause and growl at his Master before she left the room. She didn't even seem to notice the scorpion-bot that followed soon after.

Blackout, who was noting the cat cassette’s physical capabilities and how she would be of use to him, turned his helm to the two mech speaking above him. He interrupted their strained conversation without a second thought. “So… what exactly does the great Megatron needs with me?”

He didn't need to ask. He pretty much already knew … Almost everyone knew Soundwave was gone at this point.

Starscream slowly turned his helm and looked at the mech shackled to the berth. His gaze was cold and unfeeling, his words biting and yet directed more towards Shockwave than the actual mech that asked. “So this is the renegade you scared up for Megatron. He might have the space for the midgets, but I can already tell he doesn't have the finesse, the collection, to be a Communication Officer. And certainly not a probable candidate for Third in Command. That Oilslick character or Lugnut would be better options. In fact, I heard that you just brought that big fool out of stasis. Why don't you bring him up here instead?”

Blackout nearly fell off the berth in surprise. Yeah, he had an idea as to why he had been called back to Cybertron from his lonely search of the Allspark (which had been more of a punishment; there was no way that legend was true; then again, Megatron was older than dirt so maybe there was some proof to the old legend), but to be an actual prospect for Third? And his caretaker said he would never make anything of himself.

“Are you serious? Third? I just thought I was getting some cassette rejects,” laughed the black mech, suddenly acting like the youngling he was.

“We can only hope you don't get that title,” barked the Seeker. “I’d rather Thundercracker gets it. At least he’ll listen to me,” and do what I say, “over you! But regardless, I need to inform you about Earth if think that you are even going to that dirt ball.”

“First off,” started the Seeker in lecture mode, ignoring Shockwave's struggle to interupt. “Humans are squishies so squish them. Autobots hate that, but at the same time don’t underestimate the fleshies because-”

…

Ravage walked silently down the halls. Perhaps she could take this time to mourn her … brother… brothers. Yes, she knew she had lost another … an very soon she might be losing more. One glance at the berth in the main lab told her all she needed to know. They were considering Blackout for their new host. If that was true, half of her wondered if it would be best to simply allow her siblings to deactivate instead of giving them to a monster like Blackout. It wasn’t that he was cruel to his cassette, he just was known to lose any he adopted. Well, except his original one. It was like he didn't understand his obligations as a host. To him, cassettes and drones were little more than tools.

She growled at the thought. True, her and her siblings were all tools, but Soundwave had cared for his tools. He had cared about his creations.

Shaking her helm, Ravage doubted that any mech would ever care as much as Soundwave had, but some hosts would at least take better care than others. Such as Shockwave. He took care of his tools.

Jumping up into a window ledge, the cat-former stared at the sky for a moment as her spark sank in horror. If only she had the resources. She had a full spark. She could get a full body, but… the upgrade was dangerous and she couldn’t risk leaving them so vulnerable. She was the only thing that was keeping her siblings from early deactivation.

She would not fail them.

Suddenly, she felt someone watching her, pulling her from her thoughts and her grieving process. Her quick optics looked around in a rush … only to catch a collection of red optics peeking up from a loose panel in the floor. She growled, already knowing it was Blackout's cassette. She had never met him, but knew him by reputation.

=I see you there,= she stated over the comm link, baring her fangs.

=Huh?A femme?= was all Scorponok could state, surprised by the voice that filled his comm, yet his surprise became excitement. =It’s been a long time since I seen a femme, a cassette femme for that matter. A mech can get lonely. I know a nice little corner where we could...=

=Frag off! I have no interests in such activities. My siblings are dying, that is the last thing on my mind,= she growled, her fangs bared even more.

Yes, it had been a long time, but she was not going to curl up with some unknown cassette for a moment of relief. Though, given this was Blackout’s cassette, she may end up with him sooner or later. Just because they would share a carrier didn’t mean there were taboos against such things if they weren’t spark siblings.

=I wish you had a tail,= he added, ignoring her obvious hostility. =It would be fun to play with. We could intertwine each other’s…=

Ravage was suddenly to her peds, plating raised and rattling in threat. =I said back off! I will not tell you again!=

The other cassette stalled, his many optics blinking before he added in almost a sickening tone, =Fine… we can always do that later because, just so you know, Blackout takes care of the cassette that I like longer than the ones I don’t.=

And that was all he said as he retreated back under the metal flooring, soft curring chuckle echoing after him and leaving the cat-former stiff, shaking, and angry. She knew that she was willing to do anything for her siblings, but she had never expected that. She didn’t think her spark would be the payment she’d have to give to keep them alive.

Regardless of how strong she was always telling herself to be, a soft sob escaped her vocals. It was the first vocal sound of sorrow she had allowed herself in almost a millennia. She would mourn her creator and siblings now in this barren hall because she didn't know if she would get the chance again.

She had to convince Shockwave to take her and her siblings in. Shockwave was her last prospect.

She’d beg if she had too.

Chapter Text

Ravage’s footsteps were soft and nearly silent as she made her way through the shadows. She had decided that she would kill the scorpion-bot in his recharge if she was forced to be Blackout’s cassette. Not that she was worried about herself. She had a full spark. She could leave and wander the universe where she may, but her siblings … They would have no choice. True, they probably could carry on as they were for a few short orns as long as she was around, but what then? They were living on borrowed time.

Her optics dimmed at the thought.

She already could tell that she had lost Rumble. He had been terrified and then there was a jump, a sizzling in her spark … then he was gone. Part of her mind told her he was not deactivated, merely misplaced, but she knew … she knew that the bond was gone and he was with their Master now. He was part of the light.

Frenzy probably wasn’t far behind though he might have a while with the Buzzsaw and Laserbeak.

She dared not dwell on the youngest.

Optics so dim that she almost blended into the darkness, the cat-former barely had time to dodge a heavy foot coming around the corner. The cassette did an elegant flip and landed a few feet to the left, shadows hiding her entire form for a moment. The owner of the heavy ped stood there, his rotors twitching in surprise before he got down on one knee and made a clicking noise, his voice sarcastic.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Almost didn’t see you there.”

Glowering at the metallic titan, she couldn’t decide who she initially hated more: the master or his cassette. Though if he kept this up, Blackout was going to get his vocalizer ripped out.

Smiling down at the cat-former, almost wickedly, his taunting words finally ended as he spoke to the cat-former like a regular bot. “So? You are one of the orphans that I might be getting, hey? You don’t look to be struggling or depressed … You must be near a full spark, an old cassette.”

The cat-former merely blinked her optics in the darkness, offering no reply.

Blackout chuckled darkly and reached a hand out so he could pick Ravage up and get a good look at her to see what he was getting. He acted like he already owned her. The cat-former, caring little about Scorponok’s warning, growled and lashed out at the large grabbing servo. Claws digging into metal and wiring, the large mech pulled back with a grunt, bringing his hand up to his mouth to taste his own energon. Still kneeling there, a small drip of processed energon dribbling down his armor, the mech laughed darkly in his throat as he pulled away.

“Well … you seem promising. Spirited.” Then standing up, he chuckled, “You’ll be fun to break.”

Optics glowing dully, the cat-former gave no reply as she remained in the shadows, the large flier’s rotors twitching as he made his way down the hall. Growling, hating the copter already, Ravage continued her journey to the room the large mech had undoubtedly come from.  Standing in the doorway for a moment, part of her hating the dome over the room which allowed in the star-light, she slowly prowled into the light. Silently picking her destination, she headed towards a large chair, buttons clicking away as several hovering screens presented information to the chair’s occupant. 

Walking all the way to the side of the large research chair, she sat there a moment watching fingers dance over holographic screens. It was a rare opportunity to see both of Shockwave’s hands as the other one was decked out in sensitive equipment which made it partially translucent, sensors blinking away inside. To crush or even man-handle that hand would be more debilitating than probably ripping off a seeker’s wings or a mech’s door wings. It was an extreme safety hazard and something few mechs knew about. The femme was sure that even Megatron didn’t know about the elegant hand. Watching the delicate device dance over computer screens a moment more, the purple Con seeming to look over Blackout’s diagnostics and build, she yawned, gathering the other’s Decepticon’s attention.

The clear hand with all of its sensory and blinking equipment stalled as if caught. Then, before she could even blink, there was the sound of a transformation, a cannon now in the hand’s place. The large mech turned his single eye towards the cassette, silent and waiting.

She finished her yawn, knowing all too well that it was a human social disease which was unnecessary and yet somehow it had jumped species, she glanced up expectantly.

Titling his own head as if in question, the ex-Senator stated, “Yawning is unnecessary for a Cybertronian and a human trait, yet you perform the act?”

Binging the other’s comm. link, which was promptly accepted, she replied, =Yes, but it is quite contagious, none the less.=

Remaining silent for a moment, the purple mech continued, “I did not know it was contagious. What is the severity of the condition?”

Staring at the purple figure for a nano-klick, not at all surprised, she murmured, =No more deadly than boredom, but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.=

If a mouth-less mech could frown, she was sure that Shockwave would have as she jumped up on the main computer, carefully minding buttons as she sat down on her haunches. If she could frown, she would be sharing the same imaginary expression but thankfully (or unthankfully) it seemed Primus wished to leave them both incapable of expressing emotions easily so things had to be said instead of guessed. Shockwave didn’t even have an EM-field for even that had been taken from him along with his hands and face.

Personally, emotions were messy. She preferred things that way. Fewer ways to confuse and misinterpret each other.

=I presume you already know what I am going to ask?= she stated over the comm.

The purple mech, using his other hand, started typing away at a screen. She didn’t know if it was a coping mechanism for Shockwave since he was no longer had emotions in the normal context, but she quickly forgave his multitasking. In some ways, she envied his cold view of the world.  

=I don’t think it needs to be said, but I will ask none the less. Soundwave is deactivated. We have no cassette rack to take us in and the younger ones … I fear that Ratbat is already offline. His half spark could not withstand the strain,= she stated.

Shockwave stalled and looked directly at her with his lone optic. “You should have informed Lord Megatron of the time constraints. He would have worked faster to try and save the surviving cassettes. You are an asset to him and to whoever will be chosen to be the new Communication Officer.”

If she had a full-length tail it would have been swishing in irritation as she recalled Frenzy’s last interaction with the warlord, his optics busted out as if he was a traitor. =He seemed not to care about Frenzy’s welfare earlier, so I find it unlikely that he cares now. He would have just though the young ones were weak and good riddance to them.=

Shockwave was still for a moment as if he was thinking and trying to comprehend the emotions that were being presented to him. His hand then continued its work as he emotionlessly added, “Then I will inform him of the importance of the cassettes and the need for a new cassette rack. I was going to allow Lord Megatron to choose his new officer and then upgrade them if he wished, but perhaps it will be far more strategic if I just recommend Blackout instead of even considering the remodeling of Thundercracker.”

The cat was a bit taken back about the Thundercracker bit. The mech was generally rather quiet and kept to himself. Truthfully, if he didn’t have any connections to Starscream he might make a great cassette rack even though he was probably younger than her. She had no plans of becoming one of Starscream’s pawns, though, like the blue mech was himself.

Pushing off the thoughts of Thundercracker, she growled as she replied, =I don’t think you understand. No one else will do. Blackout will have us all dead in less than a vorn and Thundercracker is unpredictable because he is Starscream’s pawn! I am searching out a new cassette rack so my siblings can live … not so I can see how quickly they can deactivate!=

The lone optic dimmed for a moment and then the scientist emotionlessly, “The only other cassette rack is Barricade and no one has heard from him in vorns. He is considered deactivated.”

Metallic ears folding back, she finally growled over the comm., =Were you not the closest thing to a companion that Soundwave had? I think that I would trust my siblings’ lives in your hands then any others! I will not accept anything less then you!=

Hand coming down and placing itself on his lap, the purple Con’s optic dimmed and he was silent for a moment before he softly replied, “Then your siblings will deactivate. I cannot accept you.”

Ravage sat up straight, surprised by the other’s bluntness. =But … they will not survive with anyone else! Soundwave would have wanted you to have us.=

The mech was cold as he replied, “No, Soundwave would have wanted you all to deactivate with him. He trusted no one else with your care.”

And with that, the mech stood up and walked away, leaving a flabbergasted and surprisingly heartbroken cassette behind as the chair slowly went dark, its holographic screens dropping away into nothingness. Yet, despite her want to beg and plea with the purple scientist to rethink what he had just proclaimed, she knew it would do no good.

Because it was true.

Soundwave would have wanted all of them to deactivate with him. He would have wanted all of his cassettes to fade with him before being left alone in this cruel existence because no one would ever care for them the way he had. In fact, no one cared about their unit but them.

Her head hung and she tried to stop what was coming, tried to bide it away with false assurances and promises, but she couldn’t lie to herself. They were better off dead. Shockwave was right and he knew Soundwave almost as well as she did. There was no argument against it as far as Soundwave’s point of view would have been concerned.

And so, clenser tears dripping down her bowed face, running against her nose, Ravage allowed herself a silent moment of sorrow. All of her siblings were going to die and she didn’t know if she should drag it out with a new cassette rack or allow it to end as quickly as possible.

Either way, she would be left alone.

…

Eject kicked a pine cone and watched it fly through the shrubbery. He had spent most of the night out in the forest on his own and, surprisingly, no one had come to chastise him for his behavior. He had been left alone. Unexpectedly, that was both comforting and disheartening. On one servo he was allowed to be alone with his thoughts. After all, Blaster hadn’t even bothered to inquire about his feelings which either meant Rumble hadn’t made it back to base yet or the decision was still being made. On the other servo, it could also mean that Blaster was upset with him for not holding the Cassette Rack Laws in high regard and he didn’t want Eject’s opinion.

Sighing at the thought of his caretaker being mad, the young cassette plopped down on a log and picked up a stick. He started picking at some of the moss on the ground entirely at a loss and unsure of what to do with himself. He was sure he could stay here for the rest of the day and maybe even tomorrow and no one would care.

His Master cared more about a bloody Con then him.

Picking a little bit more at the moss, the cassette cursed and finally threw the stick as far as he could, dully noting that the sun was rising and he hadn’t even recharged. Not that it was important, he could go for Earth-days without recharge, but because of the sleeping habits of humans, Prime encouraged everyone to follow the Earthlings’ sleep cycle. Not that Eject cared about recharge right now. In fact, he would give up on recharge completely and risk glitching like Red Alert if it got rid of Rumble. Frag, he should have remained at the base. If he had stayed home and watched the sports channel like a good cassette this would have never happened. Even if Spike and the others had found Rumble at the dock, they would not have known he was dying.

Not until it was too late.

Despite himself, Eject ducked his helm, ashamed of his inner thoughts.

“I’m a terrible Autobot.”

A snap and tripping noise filled the area as Sparkplug stumbled into the clearing, stating, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Eject. You’ve always seemed like a good Autobot to me.”

Eject wilted as the human walked over to the fallen tree, taking off his bag pack before he sat on the fallen tree next to the cassette with a heavy sigh. Then, grabbing a water bottle, he took a swig and dabbed some sweat off of his brow … and then the silence returned. The human made no further inquiries nor demanded answers about Eject’s actions.

He was silent, the bugs in the forest making more noise than the man.

It was a bit unnerving and reminded him of being alone with Optimus Prime. He admired his leader, he really did, but the mech’s attention was unnerving like any nano-klick the powerful mech would tell Eject that he was a disappointment and would promptly send Eject to the brig for some unknown crime.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, the silence far more deafening then any sound, the youth asked, “Well?!”

Sparkplug, who seemed content just sitting there enjoying the silence, turned his head. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to say something? Tell me what a poor sport I am for yelling at the others like that? For saying I basically wanted Rumble dead! How did you even find me?” questioned the cassette, his tone trembling. The youngling finally noticed just how upset he still was even though he had had a night all to himself and his thoughts.

Sparkplug was silent for a moment before he clapped his hands on his knees and leaned back somewhat as if getting more comfortable. Then, sighing, the man gave the young-bot a tired look. “Just a morning walk through the woods. I was looking for some wild mushrooms. Spike loves those fried in butter. I’m just takin’ a break.”

Eject waited for the man to say more, but he was silent once again, unnerving the frustrated youth. Eject practically begged, “Aren’t you mad or upset or disappointed or something?! Aren’t you going to say my attitude was way out of bounds and an extreme sports fail?”

Sparkplug chuckled at the youth’s sports-speak and shook his head. “No, I’m not mad, but then again it’s not my place to be so. It sounds like a personal issue to me, Eject, more than a political one. Not that I’m very good with politics either.”

The cassette sighed and nodded his helm. He had a feeling Sparkplug was not here to judge, just to listen, and Eject quickly found his glossa loosening, “Yeah … Well, it is kind of personal. I don’t think the others really understand what will happen if Rumble is saved. What it will mean.”

Sparkplug nodded, asking, “Then why don’t you tell me.”

Sighing, feeling young around the man though he was certainly vorns older then the human, the cassette started ringing his hands together in stress as he stared at the ground. “You see… Rumble will deactivate, major game over, regardless of Ratchet’s help. Unless … Blaster saves him.”

“… Go on.”

“Well, his spark needs another’s spark to survive. A spark like Blaster’s. A cassette rack. Taking Rumble in won’t mean that once in a while Rumble has to take a nap in the cassette rack or anything … it means that Blaster will open a bond with Rumble … and accept him as one of his own,” said Eject, crestfallen.

“I see,” said the older man, feeling it was some type of sibling rivalry.

“No, you don’t!” snapped the youth, turning his helm to the human. “It means that we have to accept him as well. All of us cassettes have to accept that dark monster into our family and feel his pain, worry, and hate. He will be able to hurt us in a way he couldn’t as a Con. He will destroy my family!”

Sparkplug sighed and reached an arm out to pat the youngling’s metallic shoulder. “So, you are worried that your family will fall apart. You are concerned that you will no longer have a place.”

Nodding his helm, the drone choked, “I can’t imagine being alone. It’s not in my rule book!”

“No one ever does… but I don’t think Blaster likes being alone in this type of issue either. So, don’t feel bad about the fight. Families fight. Just don’t stop talking. Perhaps, you need to tell Blaster how you feel about Rumble instead of just yelling that you would rather have him dead. It might not change Blaster’s choice, but it will at least let him know about your doubts,” said the aging man, giving a sad smile.

Suddenly hating the old man for being so wise even though he really wasn’t that old, Eject was about to reluctantly agree. It was frightening to be alone and thought he might not like Rumble … he didn’t want Blaster to feel ostracized either.

Shifting his peds, Eject decided to look at the situation with a different perspective.

But, then it happened. A snap. A tug at his spark and his bond with his creator and siblings. If Eject hadn’t just been getting up, Sparkplug might have worried about the cassette’s sudden collapse back onto the log. Instead, it merely looked like Eject had stumbled.

Gasping, the sensation more of a surprise then painful, Eject placed a hand on his chassis as he felt something invade his family’s bond. And for a nano-klick, almost out of instinct, he almost accepted it as it was. A new bond. He had almost accepted that twisted, hurt and angry thing without a second because it was now attached to Blaster’s bond. Somehow, Eject stalled, rage pushing away instinct.

Blaster had just accepted and finished creating a cassette bond with Rumble. There was no doubt about it. And … Blaster hadn’t even asked him how he felt about it.

Anger renewed, betrayal feeding the emotion, the youth slowly stood up even though the bond pinched and pressed for acceptance again. He merely ignored it, Sparkplug’s words being fed to the hurt feeling swelling in his spark.

Yet, as angry as he was, Eject refused to let Blaster know and certainly not Sparkplug. He liked Sparkplug and right now he felt as if the human had listened far more than his own creator had.

Pressing on a smiling, struggling to ignore the bond and his spark’s withering complaint, he asked, “S-so, what kind of mushrooms are you looking for? How about this white one?”

Sparkplug’s face gained a horrified expression. “Only if you want to poison Spike.”

Eject merely shared a hollow laugh with the older man, abandoning his emotions as his mind started a new game. It was as if he had walked off the field … leaving all the bases loaded without no one up to bat. 

Chapter Text

Eject had ignored the ping for nearly two days. He had faked smiles and pretended that all was right with the world. Currently, he was traveling and joking with Sparkplug, Spike, and Bumblebee ... He shrugged off any mention of his creator as they made their way back home the long way: by driving. He even managed to get a pit stop or two at local baseball games. But he knew it was coming, he knew that he would have to face his creator and his new brother.

He wanted to ignore it as long as possible. He needed to pretend that Rumble wasn’t there because if he thought about it too much he’d start to fall apart. He could still feel the tug and pull on his spark, wanting something, asking for acceptance.

Waving the home team’s flag, the cassette laughed glad for the current company as he ignored the ping in his spark.

“That game was great! Did you see forty-two run? And that hit was epic!” cheered Eject as he rambled on to the two humans and Bumblebee.

The humans merely nodded, laughing at the cassette’s love for sports and foam fingers, but the game had been long and they were all weary from a long trip across the country.

“Yes, yes. That boy has a pair of arms on him. It was a good game,” agreed Sparkplug as he placed his team cap onto Eject’s head in an awkward manner. “But Spike and I are starving. You two mind if we head over to that café for some chow?”

“Of course not, Sparkplug,” chirped Bumblebee as he spoke for the two Autobots. “We’ll just head over to the campus grounds and enjoy the college’s art displays. And … we’ll have a chat.”

Eject twitched at that and Sparkplug lost his smile quickly only to regain a passive expression. The aging man merely nodded his head in understanding and murmured, “Well, enjoy the summer air. We’ll be out in probably an hour. The place looks busy.”

The two humans then trotted away leaving the two Autobots to their predicaments. Well, mostly Eject’s predicaments. They both knew what Bumblebee had meant by a chat and Eject was not looking forward to it. Yes, Bumblebee was maybe only six or seven vorns older than him, but he wasn’t that much older! Regardless, the mini-bot was probably going to remind him about Autobot expectations, loyalty, and bla bla bla. Something else Ultra Magnus likely beat into the scout. After all, Eject might be his own person, as Sparkplug had basically said, but he was still a soldier.

Walking slowly down the sidewalks, the campus was pretty empty since it was summer break, Eject nearly cringed when Bumblebee finally spoke.

“So … You’ve been quiet,” said Bumblebee as he put on a strained smile, the two well out of hearing range of any of the garden gazers. Then again, he could have spoken in Cybertronian if he wanted to, but English was a habit at this point.

Eject’s lip component twitched before he grumbled, “No, I haven’t … I was cheering myself silly a few moments ago. You were watching the game with us, weren’t you?”

Bumblebee was silent for a klick, a frown growing as he spoke softly, “Well, truthfully, I was watching you. Eject, someone in your situation isn’t acting, you know, how they should be. You should be upset, worried or frustrated. Anything really. But, you are acting like you always do.”

Trying not to be frustrated, trying not to listen to the ping deep in his spark, the youth hissed, “So you are saying I’m not supposed to be me anymore because I now have that murderer for a brother?”

“No, no. That is not what I’m saying Eject,” Bumblebee quickly countered. “I’m just saying … I’m worried about you. You haven’t commed out or asked once about Blaster nor what became of Rumble.”

“Isn’t it obvious,” growled Eject, trying to keep his voice down because it was a public place. “Blaster accepted Rumble without even consulting or asking me about it! So, apparently, my opinion didn’t matter then so it must not matter now. As far as I am concerned it’s not even important enough for me to think about. So, forget about it, will yah?”

Bumblebee was slightly taken aback, surprised but Eject’s snappish tone and yet at the same time, it offered a strange type of comfort. Eject was frustrated and angry… He was obviously trying to ignore the issue. Yes, it wasn’t the best way to deal with a problem, but at least Jazz would stop comming him. The saboteur had been livid about Eject’s behavior for a while, especially since the youth refused to come back to base and comfort his creator. There was no doubt in Bumblebee’s mind that Prowl was already planning a punishment for the disorderly conduct, but at least Eject was showing some semblance of emotion.

Frowning deeply, Bumblebee spoke calmly to the other bot. “I don’t think you are being fair. Blaster made a hard decision. I doubt he made it to personally hurt you. Blaster loves you. You are his creation after all.”

Eject, a bit put out by Bumblebee’s kind and sympathetic tone, sagged and lost his defensive stance. “I know … but I … it’s like the ref is dirty and the cheating team won the game. It’s just not fair.”

Glad with how quickly Eject composed himself, the yellow mech patted the younger being on the shoulder, murmuring, “Well, I’m sure it will work out. Though I’d hate to add insult to injury as Spike says, but after Prowl heard about your behavior towards Jazz, you probably are looking towards some disciplinary action when we get home … which should be later this afternoon. In time for night duty with Red Alert I’d say if you don’t straight out get brig time.”

Already feeling quite glum about the whole situation, the cassette moaned and fell over into the grass, bemoaning, “Sooooo not fair! I call foul!”

…

Blaster groaned and rolled over, his hand coming up and rubbing his chassis on instinct.

Frag, his chassis hurt. Why did his chassis hurt? Was it his spark? Yes, yes it was his spark. What was wrong with him … what had?

“Blaster, good to see you online,” suddenly said a red and white blur as it came into his fuzzy field of vision. “You have been out for two mega-cycles and if your vitals hadn’t steadied out I would have had to open your chassis manually to make sure everything was functioning alright.”

Blinking his optics on and off, trying to get them to reset, the mech was confused for a moment until to suddenly placed a hand on his chassis, his mind coming back to him. Rumble. Pressing his spark outward, he immediately called out for Rumble and quickly felt the young mech in the bond. He sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing his chassis because his spark ached from the strain. It wasn’t every day that it exerted itself the way it had to accept the half-spark.

Nodding, the Communications Officer murmured, “Yes, everything is fine, doc-bot. Rumble’s spark was accepted without error. My spark is a bit on the sore side but it isn’t going to stop me from jammin and throwing a party. Give it a few days and it should be smooth sailing.”

The physician nodded, looking at the other mech’s form with a dissecting gaze before he added, “I’d like to take a look though. If you don’t mind.”

Silent for a moment, his instincts telling him no and to protect the young spark, Blaster decided to trust his physician. “Yeah, Ratch … just be careful.”

Gaining a frown, the medic almost seemed hurt for a moment until Blaster clarified his behavior.

“It’s not that I don’ trust yah … it’s just … my spark is worried for the kid’s safety,” said Blaster, giving a waning smile as he tried to regain his usual vibe and warm banter.

Nodding, trying to keep a professional face as if chiding himself for showing any emotion to begin with, the healer grabbed a few tools as Blaster cautiously started to open his chassis. The medical bay was lit up immediately, a bright and vibrant light reflecting off both of Blaster’s and Ratchet’s frames. The medic immediately brought out a scanner and carefully pressed his hand into the opening, scanning the spark first hand. Blaster twitched at how invasive the medic was being, but at the same time, he accepted it. Ratchet was probably going to be poking and prying at his spark for orns to come, especially with the stress a new bond was placing on it.

Pulling the scanner out, looking at the readings for a klick, the medic grumbled, “Your spark is stressed, but nothing dangerous. I’ll probably have Prowl put you on light duty regardless.”

Blaster almost groaned at that. He didn’t mind surveillance duty or anything like that, he was a Communications Officer after all, but that also meant no field work … at all.

It was going to be a few long orns with Red Alert, to say the least.

“Now, how about Rumble? Can you have him eject?” asked the medic as he stalled the scans and turn his attention to his other unseen patient.

Looking kind of tired, Blaster shook his helm. “No can do, Ratchet. The kid’s fast asleep. He will probably be knocked out for a few steller cycles to come. He’s adjusting and if the bond’s not complete, I don’t want to risk damaging it.”

Huffing, the medic rarely denied anything he wanted medically, the CMO relented. “Fine. As long as your readings are within acceptable parameters, but the day he is out and about I want to check him over. I will also have to start a medical file for him. The sooner the better.”

Nodding, the cassette rack gave their resident harpy a grin as he drew near the edge of the berth. Then, making sure that his legs didn’t wobble, he stood.

The healer eyed him like a cheetah looking for a moment of weakness so he could pounce. When he saw nothing abnormal, the medic waved him off. “Comm me if you feel anything’s wrong and grab a cube before you head off and find your spawn. I had to kick them out because they were all underfoot and I was sick of tripping over them.”

Blaster, stalling, turned to the medic while trying to hide his disappointed expression. He hadn’t gotten to speak to his cassettes as much as he would have liked to. He had mentioned that Rumble was alive and that he was going to speak with the young cassette, but he had never further inquired on their opinions of having a step-sibling. There just hadn’t been time, Rumble had been fading.

Asking carefully, not wanting to gain the healer’s never-ending wrath for he was sure even Megatron feared the medic, Blaster asked, “And did they seem all good and ready to party … or were they playing wall flowers like angry freshmen?”

Rolling his optics at the mech’s idiom, the healer crossed his arms over his chassis and stated simply, “Some seemed upset or confused but none of them seemed angry at you for your decision when I told them how badly damaged Rumble had been.”

Blaster actually sighed, almost relieved until Ratchet continued.

“Though Eject did not come to visit you, so I cannot say how he felt.”

Frowning, trying to press off any hurt feelings, the cassette rack reminded himself that Eject had been on a camping trip … and had remained there, probably angry as the pit. He had to be heading back now though. Prowl only allowed so many free days on a mechs’ schedule.

Turning back to the exit, feeling the new bond press and sway, he tried to keep himself walking straight towards the break room. A quick cube and then he would head to his quarters where undoubtedly his little flock of worried cassettes was waiting for answers.

Truthfully, he was a little tired and really didn’t want to give answers right now, but they all deserved something. After all, it was now part of their bond as well.

…

Rewind walked slowly down the hall, thinking to himself thoughtfully. He loved digging up factoids and oddities of the world and though many of the Autobots found the information worthless and he felt that was unfair. Information was information and in the end, everything was relevant and would lead back to the original question. It was just a natural pattern to the universe, that everything was connected to everything else forever trapped in a collection of interconnected circles. Or, at least, that was how he felt.

And that was the very reason he was dwelling on his newest bit of information. It all led back to the beginning if you just looked at it long enough. Talk about a conundrum: the bonding of Rumble. It had been a daunting experience at first, but not as much as waiting for their creator to wake. It had been unbearable, like a wound that would not stop seeping, but when Blaster had finally onlined and wandered into their shared quarters … the wait had been less stressful then the talk that came after. 

Blaster had stated that it was not an easy choice, but the rules of the Cassette Rack Obligations were his honor to uphold and he even had Optimus Prime’s blessing. He could not wait with Rumble about to offline and there was no time for them to talk. It wasn’t an excuse. It was merely the truth. Blaster also stated that with time … he knew Rumble would adapt. Despite his seemingly violent nature, Rumble’s spark was very young and loyal.

The details could be dealt with when Rumble woke, Rewind supposed, and no one, not even Blaster, knew how long that would take. It all depended on Rumble’s spark and its ability to adapt to Blaster’s systems and spark.

It could be an orn it could be an entire stellar-cycle. Either way, Blaster felt that if his cassettes started developing a bond with Rumble now before he woke, it would be an easier transition for the adopted cassette. That meant obligatory recharge time in Blaster’s rack … with a slumbering Rumble.

It was not a comforting thought, considering that memories or defrags might pass through the bonds during that time, but so was the nature of the cycle. In fact, Rewind had once spoken of the Circle Theory to Sparkplug and the old human, who always reminded him of Optimus Prime in some ways with his patience, stated he understood. It was like faith. Everything had its place in the end.

Shaking his helm, still confused with how his great pattern was apparently the same as faith, Rewind headed to the base’s entrance. Bumblebee was inbound and Eject was finally coming home. It had been a groons since Blaster’s chat and Communications Officer was on berth rest … so Rewind was sent out to make sure Eject didn’t spend the night pouting in front of Teletron-1 watching football.

Or perhaps he was watching soccer for strangely the title football had many meanings.

Shaking off the odd though, as his memory banks were prone to do, Rewind arrived at the entrance just in time to see the Lamborghini twins turn on their headlights. Moths and other insects were immediately drawn to the artificial light. The cassette tried not to chuckle for it would certainly get him squished. Night guard duty was a position no one liked in the summer, mostly because of the insects.

The two had deserved it, of course, for one prank or another.

And then, not even a moment later, headlights popped up in the distance like ghostly twin lights. It looked like two willow-o-wisps were skipping down the road, planning many tricks for their evening stroll before they were forced back by the coming of day. Of course, the mental image of two wayward spirits was quickly dashed a moment later as Bumblebee popped over the hill and slid to a halt at the entrance, dust gathering around him. With a quite pop, his doors opened.

“You have met your final destination. Now … pile out,” jested the yellow bug as Eject got out of the back, carrying a pile of foam fingers and other oddities.

Staring at his sibling, Rewind’s mind immediately told him the odd factoids and the history of foam fingers instead of thinking why Eject had them to begin with. After shaking off the factoids like loose thoughts, the elder cassette frowned deeply. Apparently, his sibling would rather go to a baseball game then dot over his creator in his time of need? He thought Eject was better than that.

Then again, that was how Eject dealt with issues. In fact, he would watch games where his favorite teams lost. It was certainly an oddity, but if this was how he accepted Rumble then so be it. It was better than the pouting that most of the other cassettes were doing. Ramhorn was unbearable, bemoaning about having to recharge with Rumble in the rack. Hopefully, Eject would not be so irksome about the whole thing.

Watching his sibling stumble about, struggling to keep his arm full of memorabilia, Rewind finally offered to assist his younger brother. “Here, let me help you.”

“Thanks,” said Eject as his sibling took a few items into hand. Then, after a few moments of awkwardness, the two brothers staring at each other, Eject finally asked, “So… you came out to meet me?”

“Oh, yes, yes I did. I came to speak to you,” said Rewind, an uncomfortable silence settling over the area before he added, “Let us head in, shall we? As interesting as moths are.”

Nodding, ignoring the nasty glare Sunstreaker was sending their way, the two cassettes walked into the Ark, their footsteps echoing over the metal flooring. After a moment or two of walking, Eject interrupted the silence, “So … what did you want to talk to me about?”

Rewind, as if finally recalling why he had come to the entrance, seemed to suddenly recollect his purpose, stating, “Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Well, I was going to make sure you didn’t go and mope somewhere tonight. Blaster wants everyone in the rack this evening in order to encourage a bond with Rumble. That way when he finally wakes up he’ll have strong connections with all of us.”

Eject nearly balked, stalling as he looked at his sibling in horror, “What?! No, no, no … I am not sleeping next to that slagger!”

Sighing, the older sibling gained a serious tone, “Well, it’s not as if you have much choice, Eject. He is now our brother and that will be easier to accept now instead of later.”

Shaking his head, his lips struggling for some kind of argument though he knew Rewind would win any argument with his superior wit, the cassette almost wept in thankfulness when he saw Prowl heading in their direction. The cassette already knew that the SIC was here because of his behavior. And though the thought of any type of punishment was grating, he’d accept a punishment from Unicron himself right now before bonding his spark to that foul Con.

He almost laughed in elation when Prowl stalled before the two cassettes. “Good evening, Eject, Rewind. I hate to disturb the discussion you are having but I must speak with Eject for a moment about his previous behavior.”

Giving Eject a halting glance, Rewind almost asked what Eject had done but instead nodded his helm. “Yes, of course. I will take those things from you, brother. Please … don’t get into too much trouble.”

Then, nodding his head once more as he took the rest of the memorabilia, the two other Autobots watched as Rewind turned heel and slowly walked away. There was a moment of silence before Prowl spoke, “I believe you already know what I wish to speak to you about, correct?”

The tone was professional and cool like a liquid fire. It almost made the cassette want to call for Blaster so the rack could make it all better or to at least smooth it over like he always did. Then again, Eject was angry at Blaster. He wanted to be as far away from his creator as he could.

“Yes, I disobeyed a superior officer’s command,” murmured Eject, a dark almost cruel thought occurring to him. “And I should be disciplined for it.”

Frowning, his door wings rising somewhat, Prowl calmly stated, “I am surprised with how forward you are, Eject. I take it those few days with Bumblebee and Sparkplug have served as time to reflect on your actions or you would not have been so forward with me.”

“Yes, sir,” said the cassette. He hoped he was playing this right so that he could manipulate the older and wiser mech into giving him exactly what he wanted: to be as far away from his creator and that Con as possible. “And I decided that brig time or at least triple shift, starting now, is the only acceptable punishment.”

Prowl actually gave a surprised expression, his door wings flaring as he stared down at the youngling.

Looking around to make sure no one impressionable was watching, Prowl slowly got down on one knee so he would be optic level with the younger mech, his frown deep set and troubled. Prowl was many things, he had to be considering he as the Second in Command, and though many might think of him as sparkless, he was not. He had spoken with Optimus and though he still felt that there was a huge security risk in accepting Rumble, he still remembered the day Soundwave had deactivated. Sunstreaker hadn’t been the only one that watched Rumble’s desperation as Soundwave offlined, covered in mech fluids.

Rumble did deserve the chance to live and a part of him was trying to accept Blaster’s noble choice.

Blaster, in turn, needed all the support he could get, at least that was what Optimus had said. So, Prowl was going to try and do his best.

“Now, I am glad that you have accepted responsibility for your actions, Eject, but I think you are being too hard on yourself,” said Prowl softly, trying to be comforting though it was not his forte. “It is a trying time for you and the other cassettes. And though I don’t support your behavior at the lake, I understand the reasoning behind it. Brig time seems too harsh. So, just some extra shifts after you spend some time with Blaster. Right now, he needs you.”

Eject would have wept with relief in a normal circumstance, Prowl never let anyone off easy, but he wanted to be anywhere then with that Con. Swallowing, he wanted to interrupt, to think of some insult to place him in the brig that night, but all he could do was whisper, “Please, Prowl … I don’t want special treatment. I fee likel I betrayed Blaster with my behavior the other day … I will not be able to rest until after I am punished.”

Sighing, slowly rising back to his feet, Prowl slowly nodded, “I understand. As you know, Red Alert is always in need of extra optics. If you insist, you may start now. I will get an updated schedule for you tomorrow. I will also inform Blaster about your punishment.”

Eject merely nodded as Prowl turned and walked away, the cassette slowly looking away from the enforcer in complete shame. He was a terrible mech, manipulating another Autobot like that. Right now, he wasn’t sure if the Con on base was actually Rumble or him.

Chapter Text

Ravage could barely raise her head. She hated this charade. She hardly cared if the war continued or not. She didn’t even know if she could draw a breath of concern if Optimus Prime broke into their base right now and took someone captive, claiming to be the next Decepticon overlord. Really, the only thoughts that dwelled in her mind were a thick swamp of what was to come.

Not for her, she knew where a few neutral colonies were and could play war for a few more steller-cycles before stalking away into the darkness. The same could not be said about her siblings.

They were going to offline. Either slow and painfully, treated like little more than possessions by either Blackout or Starscream, or when their sparks sputtered out. Perhaps there would be a margin of caring from the two caretakers, but she was older than her siblings and had seen other cassettes taken in before. They were never treated as well as the creator’s true creations and in the Decepticon ranks that promised a short lifespan.

Peds struggling not to drag, she returned back to base and headed back to Soundwave’s room.

How much longer it remained Soundwave’s quarters was just a matter of time. Most likely someone would try to take it from them. Thundercracker would probably keep his current room and Blackout … Well, if he remained, Soundwave’s room would probably become the copter’s.

No part of her cared for that mech.

True, first impressions meant little when looking at a Decepticon. Everyone was a good actor at this point or just plan blood-thirsty. After all, you did not survive in the Decepticon ranks if you weren’t some kind of liar. Some mechs went with the quiet brooding look, others gained nasty tongues, but most pretended to have brawn backing them up. So, Blackout could just be acting … though she doubted it. It was easier to be the madman than act the part.

And she was certain that Blackout craved violence and blood.

Soundwave had been an expert at reading others and that gift had passed somewhat to her. Of course, he had mind reading to assist him and though many did not know it … So did she. True, her skills were pathetically weak compared to her Master’s physic abilities, but she could still grab thoughts from an unguarded mind and there had been a lot of those since Soundwave’s demise.

Except for Starscream, of course. She suspected that he had some suspicions about her.

Paying no mind to any of the mechs she passed in the hall, knowing that she would pick up their attack klicks before they even acted, she barely even noticed Blackout calling out to her until he was basically yelling.

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”  

Stalling, ears going flat against the back of her head, she turned her head and growled over everyone's comms, =Call me kitty again and you will have no more fingers or even a voice box for that matter.=

The copter laughed at her display, whistling, “Just the way I like my femmes: mean. Now, come now pussycat. Megatron wants to talk to yah.”

She growled deep in her throat, noting that a few of the passersby had slowed somewhat to look at her strangely. It was not a well-known fact that she was a femme and now there was no one around to keep away unwanted suitors. Some mechs didn’t care what form you came in. All they wanted was a quick overcharge and femmes did have ideal sparks. Now, she wasn’t worried about being taken advantage of, not really, but when Soundwave was around she knew it would never happen. And that fraggen copter probably knew that as well.

=My siblings are priority … He can wait,= she growled, continuing with her old pace.

“Your funeral, pussycat,” he chided as he walked passed her, a dark grin on his face.

For a moment, she wondered who was worse when it came to dark plans: Blackout or Starscream.

Turning tail towards a nearby venting system, making a mental calculation of who was in the hall and how quickly her gender would pass among the ranks, the cat pretended she didn’t hear one of the coneheads murmur, “I didn’t know Ravage was a femme.”

…

Megatron stared at Thundercracker for a moment as the dark blue Con worked vigilantly at his station. The warlord knew the mech was trying to keep as much attention off of himself as possible, but in doing so Megatron found that he liked the thought of making the flier his new Communication’s Officer more and more. He was going to originally make the new Communication Officer his Third in Command, but he was slowly starting to disregard that idea. Starscream had too much power over Thundercracker right now. Then again, so could Megatron. A mech always remembered who gave them their power to begin with.

Blackout, on the other hand, was an interesting character. Brash and uncaring, and though that was great on the battlefield, it wasn’t ideal for a communication’s officer. Megatron needed someone patient who would listen, and of course, the cassettes would automatically go to the mech with that position since they were necessary tools.

He knew the blue mech did not want the position, at all, which was why Megatron’s mind kept going back to the Seeker. He couldn’t disregard Blackout either though, especially with some dark news from Shockwave. 

The scientist had commed before the group got back to Earth and stated that, apparently, cassettes were dependent on their host. Yes, Megatron knew Soundwave’s cassettes were his creations, but it was only now that he understood the depth of the bonds between cassettes and their rack. Shockwave had discussed something about a half spark and how it depended on a fully mature spark until they became a full spark itself. Apparently, the cassettes, if they were not full sparks, would offline given time.

Megatron, though he had no deep love for the cassettes, understood an asset when he had one, and almost sent someone to Soundwave’s room to check if all the cassettes were still online or not. But he disregarded the thought. If they were in dire need, they would have acted. Then again, dependence was a weakness and Megatron did not treat weakness lightly, except for maybe sparklings or younglings that is. They were a future asset … though he detested any of them being near him. Regardless, he tried not to dwell on the subject too much. Ravage was still alive after all, which was why he had sent Blackout to get the cat-former.

He’d hate to give the subject any more thought when he could just get answers from the cat’s mouth. If she ever showed up.

Turning his head slowly, he finally addressed the mech that had been cringing away from him, “Thundercracker … come here. I must speak with you.”

Megatron did not miss how Thundercracker’s wings fell and yet the mech turned around without hesitation, his expression steely-cool. Megatron's optics dimmed at the face. Each and every day that Soundwave was gone, the more Thundercracker reminded him of the silent mech. Perhaps he was thinking too much about this. Once he ripped Thundercracker from his trine, Starscream’s influence over the other mech would fade.

But then again … it all depended on what Ravage told him.

“Yes, sir?” said the mech stoically as he stood before his commander.

“Thundercracker, I have been dwelling recently on something,” said Megatron slowly as he placed a digi-pad to the side; the pad containing some information Shockwave had sent about Cassette Rack designs. “Tell me, what is your pain threshold?”

…

Ravage decided not to use the front door to get into Soundwave’s chambers. She didn’t need unwanted company forcing its way in. So she used the back way through the vents.

Paws leaving footprints in the dust and grit that had collected there over the centuries, she stalled at the mouth of the vent, staring. She didn’t even have to enter the room to know what lay inside. She could smell death. It lingered around the place like an apparition that could not rest.

She knew she could not doddle though. Megatron’s patience had always been short. She just had enough time to see if there was even a reason to report to the warlord. If her siblings were all offline, she could leave now. She could disappear into the shadows without even a second thought. Everyone would probably just presume that she had wandered off and died like the rest of her siblings.

Jumping out of the vent and onto Soundwave’s desk, the first thing she noted was that there was a pile on the berth, limbs were strewn across each other like a pile of bodies. In the dimness, it was hard to tell if they were all offline or alive since there was no color to be had. Straying for a moment, afraid to touch her siblings, she called out softly over their bond. 

:: Wake. I have returned.::

There was a stillness at first and then a caw filled the room, two bird-like figures rising in the shadows. This did not calm her nerves. Slowly, she asked the two fliers, :: That is all? Only the two oldest have survived?::

Lazerbeak cawed softly over the bond, his emotions feeling sour and worn, :: Frenzy is still with us, but he becomes weaker by the day.::

She knew the answer, but she had to ask. She had to hear it so her spark would understand. So it would stop reaching out to siblings that were no longer there.

::And of the others?::

Turning his head to look at the recharging form of Frenzy, Buzzsaw answered this time.

:: Is it not obvious? Let us not lament further on our sorrows. ::

So … Ratbat and Rumble were offline. Her head dipping slightly, the femme pressed back all of the emotions that wanted to wrestle to the surface and assault her spark and form. Now was not the time to mourn.

Pulling in a deep breath through her vents, she murmured back through the bond, :: I understand … I must report to Megatron. ::

:: And of Shockwave? :: asked Buzzsaw, a soft squawk escaping him.

Giving her sibling an emotionless glance, her optics reflecting in the darkness, she whispered, :: Let’s not lament on any more of our sorrows. ::

The two bird-formers visibly cringed, pulling their wings roughly inward. They knew what she meant. Death would soon be theirs or a life of torment with an abusive cassette rack. And yet, despite all the pain, the two bird-formers held one warm thought … at least Frenzy wouldn’t be separated from his twin much longer. The twin had been so angry about something, something he would not tell them. Yet, when Frenzy finally could no longer feel his brother, Rumble likely offline, he had been inconsolable. He had wept in a way he hadn’t even for his own creator.

True, they had not found the other twin’s body, but it was just a matter of time until Frenzy would join him they supposed.

It would soon be the end for all of them.

…

Across the base, another figure was suffering just as equally as the cassettes … though his pain was more of the physical kind. Thundercracker, despite his best efforts to seem strong, cried out when he finally heard something crack inside of his arm.

Megatron, letting go of the damaged arm, merely gave his soldier a thoughtful look as he eyed the other’s chassis.

“Externals seem resilient, but let’s see how sensitive your internals are,” said the warlord darkly and yet strangely professional. “Open up, soldier.”

Thundercracker could only swallow, wishing for the thousandth time since the war had started, that he had done as his creator had said … and joined the Autobots.

…

Ravage had decided, after learning that two of her siblings were already gone, not to walk through the halls. The crestfallen were easy targets. Instead, she wandered the vents to press away her grief. She needed to be strong and so the darkness the vents offered help steel her emotions. After, she needed to lie to Megatron.

The more she thought about it, the more she hated the thought of either Thundercracker or Blackout getting her siblings. Besides, it would be torture for Frenzy with his other half gone. Would he ever completely recover after losing a twin spark? She always thought that the remaining twin would follow after the first deactivated. And yet, he was still there, alive … and probably in complete agony.

An Autobot would make him live. She would not.

Shaking off thoughts that dared press at her emotions, the femme soon found herself in the vent that faced the command center of the ship. She stared at it for a moment, a deep part of her mind believing for a moment that Soundwave was right beyond that door, as always, listening and waiting and planning.

Needing to collect herself, she just sat there thinking of her Master’s large overshadowing form and how he had been almost soundless when he walked. In the back of her spark, as that command deck’s door slid open, she was sure that Soundwave was going to step out and tilt his head in the odd way he always did when curious.

Unfortunately, her spark’s hope was quickly squashed when instead of her Master exiting the door, it was Thundercracker. He was currently holding his arm which looked twisted and bent and his vents were huffing. He seemed to be struggling just to stand. Megatron, not a second later, appeared behind the flier, wiping energon from his hands.

“Can you make it to the medical bay by yourself?” asked Megatron as if the flier’s injuries were of minor consequence.

Nodding, Thundercracker murmured, “Yes, mi-lord. I’m sorry if I disappointed.”

“Not at all. From Shockwave’s report, you should be able to take the pain of a surgery if you are chosen to be the new Communication’s Officer,” said Megatron with a slightly wicked grin when Thundercracker went stiff. “Anyway, if you see Ravage on your way to the medical bay, send her my way. I am growing impatient.”

The warlord then turned and returned to the inner confines of the deck, the door sliding closed behind the Seeker. Thundercracker, for his part, merely sighed and leaned against the wall. It seemed that it was only his will that was keeping him standing, his legs shaking as faint traces of energon dripped from his useless arm. The cat-former sat there on her haunches for a moment, dwelling on the figure before her.

She just stared at him and his silent pain and fury before she saw a flicker of Soundwave before her. If the seeker had a mask … he could be her Master. That was what Megatron probably saw as well.

Jumping down, her mind mingling in its decisions and the lies it could tell, she came before the injured seeker. The glare that he threw at her was all the answer she needed about Thundercracker’s point of view on cassettes. Even his words were bitter and dark, showing just how much he had been influenced by Starscream.

“Come to gloat,” glowered Thundercracker as he pushed himself off the wall, his face twisted in an expression of rage and agony. “I hate you little ticks. I want nothing to do with any of you. I just want to remain with my trine, my unit,” his next words bit as if he had physically struck the cat-former, “They are my family. I want nothing to do with you or Megatron’s plans.”

Ravage, as still and as patient as ever even though her Master was no longer there to protect her with his reputation alone, merely remained sitting before the Seeker, her stubby tail still.

Her words were just as frigid though as she spoke over the communications link, =And you think I want to be separated from my family any less? I would have thought you learned this lesson already though, Seeker.=

His lip twitched, his optics dulling as he reluctantly asked, “What lesson?”

=That war takes everyone’s family be them brothers, creations or lovers, = she said as he bore her fangs slightly, her next words harsh. =Why should you be allowed to suffer any less than I have in the last few orns? =

Thundercracker could only look surprised before he turned his gaze away, his words strained, “Just tell Megatron you want that pit-forsaken copter as your new rack and leave me be.”

Ravage said nothing to that comment, she merely watched him limp away. Her mind wondering for the briefest of moments … could her siblings hold out for Thundercracker’s reformat? He, at least, had a spark. In fact, he actually called those two hell spawn Seekers family, which left an opening for the thing cassettes needed the most: a family.

Tail twitching, she nodded to herself, her thoughts not as dark as they were a few klicks ago. She then headed to the door to manipulate the greatest fool of the entire war. At least that's how she always felt about Megatron and the Prime. They were two fools too blind to see that they were playing tag instead of chess and that tag has never been a game meant for only two. It would always be a stalemate ... Unless there entered another fool.

Chapter Text

Ravage's peds were nearly silent when she finally decided to enter the command deck, the room strangely hushed except for the occasional beep from one of the nearby computers. Megatron was in his seat as usual, the mech staring outward at the huge window that had once viewed the vastness of space. It now only viewed bottom crawlers and sharks. For now, the dark waters seemed still, but sharks were a norm in this area. It was only a matter of time before there was blood in the water.

She only hoped that it would be someone else’s energon and not her or her siblings.

=You summoned me, Lord Megatron?= the femme asked over the comms, her form stalling a few yards from the forgotten poet. 

Megatron, still staring out at the ocean’s darkness, turned his head slightly, his words almost bitter, “Soundwave was too sentimental when it came to you cassettes. That is why he fell.”

Ravage said nothing, the femme sitting silently on her haunches. If there was one thing Soundwave taught her above all else: was that there was a time to speak and other times to remain silent. She chose the latter.

“But at least it was on the battlefield,” said the mech as he turned his red optics and their glow in the femme's direction.

“As I am sure you are aware, Shockwave has informed me of something called a half-spark and that most cassettes are dependent on their racks. This is true, correct?” said the warlord in a calculating manner, waiting for a semblance of a lie.

Ravage nodded, adding carefully, =This is true, my lord.=

Critical gaze never leaving the cat-former’s face, Megatron then asked, “And how bad off are your siblings, Ravage? No one has heard a peep out of them in an orn. Have they already given in to their weakness or can they wait for Thundercracker’s reformatting? Or should Blackout be informed of his new responsibilities? I honestly could care less which one takes up Soundwave’s responsibilities. Personally, I doubt either one will be as competent.”

Optics refusing to dim at the thought of her dying siblings, Ravage reigned in her emotions. She knew it would not bode well to lie to Megatron. She should tell him Blackout would be the acceptable choice, but she would rather offline her siblings herself than give them to that slagger. Thundercracker was the best choice … even if Starscream came with the package. There was the issue of Ratbat and Rumble though. Both were gone. There was no way to lie about that … thought she could claim a mere miscalculation. She could say they deactivated after Thundercracker got his upgrade. Thus she wouldn’t be at fault. After all, there was no worse ire than Megatron’s. It was best to lie and pray you looked like a fool than to lie and look a traitor.

Shrugging, she decided to twist her words so that Megatron could only blame himself in the end if any of the cassettes offlined. Her words were almost flattering as she stated, =You are correct again. My siblings are weak, but we should be able to wait for Thundercracker’s upgrade if that is your decision for a new Communications Officer. You know best, after all.=

Her words perfectly manipulated, Ravage might have congratulated herself … if her sibling’s lives weren’t at stake. With that, she was about to get leave and spend a moment with Ratbat’s corpse before promptly hiding it until it was needed, but the warlord stalled her.

“Stay put. I will be having an announcement in a few moments. I want to get this over and done with,” he stated bitterly, his optics dimming as he sent some kind of message through a communication link. It wasn’t long before there was a ping, a large black copter walking into the room … his perverted little cassette nowhere to be seen. His smirk was sickening enough on its own so she didn’t really miss the little slagger. A few clicks later, there was the clicking of seeker heals. Apparently more than one. Ravage was not surprised at all to see not Thundercracker enter first, but Starscream.

He seemed angry and huffy, even more than usual. Apparently, the earlier threat of making him the new Communications Officer had not stuck, his shrill voice echoing over the command room.

“I brought you Blackout!” hissed Starscream as he stood before Thundercracker who looked like he had only gotten rushed repairs done, energon still on his frame. “I told you not to rip up my Trine!”

“Silence!” barked Megatron as he rose to his feet, his voice booming. “We already spoke of this Starscream. Having a cassette rack will do no favors for your figure.”

Starscream, once again insulted, reared back. His denta were bared and he seemed to struggle for something to say. Instead, his wings fell, the mech turning to his trine-mate. His expression was one of sympathy, but he said nothing more as he stormed out of the command deck.

Silence restored except for Blackout’s soft chuckles and the whine of TC’s partially repaired internal fan, Megatron stood up and slowly walked around his two choices, his words echoing, “As you know, you both are candidates for the new Communication’s Officer and with that the title Third in Command. I have read over both of your military records thoroughly and though you both have skills I like and dislike, I have ultimately allowed the cassette, Ravage, to choose her new rack.”

Thundercracker’s optics immediately paled and Blackout seemed less than pleased.

Megatron either did not note the behavior or care. He merely stalled in front of Thundercracker, his red optics burrowing into the seeker. He placed a hand on the flier’s shoulder as he congratulated him, “Congratulations, Thundercracker.  You have been promoted. You will no longer be under Starscream’s thumb but under my direct command. I doubt he was worthy of you anyway. Now, pack a few things and head to the space bridge. Shockwave will be waiting for you to start the procedure. You will be incapacitated for a few orns so I recommend you use that time to study up on your responsibilities and getting to know your new cassettes.”

Thundercracker, struggling to open his mouth and regretfully thank his leader, was stalled as Blackout barked, “Bullllll-shit! That position was supposed to be mine.”

Fury immediately coming over his features, Megatron was suddenly in the other mech’s face, barely looming over the bulky copter. “Do you have a problem with my choice, soldier? I heard you had trouble following commands, but I didn’t think I would have to perform disciplinary action so soon. Now, do you want to repeat yourself or have a quick meeting with the floor?”

Blackout, never one to back down, merely looked over at Ravage, his words making the femme twitch across the room. “No disrespect, Lord Megatron. It’s just that I’m surprised you are willing to risk any more cassettes by waiting for a mech to become formatted for the duty. You know … given that one … maybe two are already offline.

Megatron, surprise overcoming his features, snapped his ire in Ravage’s direction, his words spitting, “Did you lie to me? Were you were trying to manipulate me?”

Backing up, rear end hitting into the warlord’s throne, she immediately bowed her head, the femme struggling for words, =N-no, Lord Megatron. I was merely- =

“Is this one of Starscream’s schemes? Does he want one of his ex-trine as Third so that they both can overpower me? Is that it?” bit out Megatron. “Or are you trying to sabotage me for killing your creator? That’s it, isn’t it? I knew you were a little traitor after Frenzy showed up with something other than red optics.”

Ravage tried to defend herself, tried to make the best decision for herself and her siblings, but she finally decided that she didn’t care. She was angry. Yes, she was very angry at Megatron. His incompetence got her creator killed, a hole through his chassis. He had then inadvertently deactivated Ratbat and Rumble as well. She was sick of his failing plans and his empty promises. She knew that Soundwave was even slowly starting to question the warlord and his failures towards the end. He didn’t promise new things. He promised ruin! He was going to kill them all.

She and her siblings were all but dead because of him!

Fear no longer clouding her spark, rage and hate making her vocals spit and hiss, the femme final expressed all her hurt and sorrow with a yelled proclamation, =Yes! It’s true! You are a failure Megatron, unworthy of the mechs that follow you, especially my creator! You were not worthy of his skills nor loyalty! How you were able to obtain it is beyond us all! You are the end bringer, Megatron. The only new future you bring is extinction and death! With your new beginning, there will be none of us left! If believing that makes me a traitor, then traitor I am!  I will not follow the mech that offlined my creator! I would rather my siblings be dead than left to your care!=

The room was silent, but her words carrying over the comm system like the murmurs of an angry god, =I also would rather be dead than serve you for another moment.=

Megatron, a bit taken aback, only remained surprised for a nano-klick before the whine of his cannon alerted the femme of her mistake. She, everyone, knew what Megatron did to suffer traitors. They did not last long. And yet, standing there before his throne, she did not falter in her stance. Part of her thought perhaps this was for the best. Shockwave was right. Soundwave had wanted his cassettes to deactivate with him. It just seemed that she was checking out sooner than she thought. She was not afraid though. She was ready to greet her Master … and she prayed her energon stains never came out of that fool’s throne.

The sound of a cannon vibrated over the ship, the room filling with smoke and a splatter of energon, droplets spraying all over the three occupant’s forms.

Thundercracker seemed horrified while Blackout seemed disappointed as if he had just lost a toy. Megatron, in turn, merely looked … unhappy, like he had accidentally shot Soundwave all over again. He voiced no remorse though. He merely turned from the mangled and still form of Ravage, her energon seemingly everywhere. His words were cold as he looked at the two fliers.

“Be this a lesson to both of you. The price a traitor will pay. Blackout, congratulations. You may claim Soundwave’s quarters, his title, position and the cassettes he left behind. If there are any that is,” said Megatron curtly while he grabbed a rag from his subspace in order to start wiping the energon off of his cannon. “And Thundercracker…”

Thundercracker, almost too relieved to even care about Ravage’s proclamation or deactivation, nearly wept at Megatron’s new words.

“Your disgust with my initial decision makes me worry that I may have more than one traitor in my midst. Starscream hasn’t started to rub off on you, has he?” said the warlord disapprovingly, his optics a glare.

Standing up as straight as he could while trying not to ruin his new weld work, Thundercracker choked out the truth, “N-no sir. I-I just didn’t want to leave my trine. T-there’s a bond you see and breaking it can be-”

Putting up his hand to stall the seeker, Megatron grumbled, “I am well aware of the bond. Starscream went on and on about it, and how much work it would be to replace you. Well, I think you need to prove some loyalty Thundercracker.”

Swallowing, not liking the smirk that was forming on Blackout’s facial plates nor Megatron’s dark gaze, Thundercracker stuttered his reply, “O-of course my liege. What would you have me do?”

Smiling as if happy with Thundercracker’s complacency, he waved at Ravage, “Take this mess to the incinerator … and then you can report to the space bridge and Shockwave.”

Starting, the seeker almost choked, “W-what? But the cassettes. You are giving them to Blackout, right?”

Nodding, still watching Thundercracker for even a twinge of disloyalty, he added, “Yes, but I am giving you to Shockwave. He really wanted another cassette rack in the ranks and I think it would be beneficial, given I have just found out I lost three cassettes today. It would help to get a few more cassettes in the ranks if I can. The ranks do need some repopulating after all.”

Stalling as he wiped down his cannon, Megatron pointedly asked, “You are loyal and more than willing to be part of Shockwave’s experiments, aren’t you?”

Wings shivering, his spark beating erratically in his chassis, Thundercracker slowly nodded in defeat before whispering, “O-of course, Lord Megatron.”

He hated himself for saying those words, for not being strong for at least a moment like Ravage.

Thundercracker tried not to wince as Megatron put a hand on his shoulder, red optics bearing down on him as the warlord added, “Good. Now, get rid of this mess. I expect to hear from Shockwave within the groon.”

The warlord then let go of his terrified soldier, turning his attention to Blackout. “Blackout, please report to the medical bay with the remaining cassettes. I want that done as soon as possible.”

The helicopter barked and ‘affirmative’ and was out of the door, Megatron and the others following after. Thundercracker was left alone in command with a puddle of energon and parts. Her color hadn’t even faded yet. Honestly, for being so small, she could have been even more damaged.

Leaning down, trying to tell himself to vent and remain calm, the seeker almost shrieked when the femme suddenly twitched all of her legs. Well, the three that were still connected at least. She obviously was not deactivated yet.

Damaged optic settling on him, the partially twisted femme shook him to the core, ripping at his spark with her words. =He should pay. M-M-M-Megatron needs to pay. H-H-H-help me. I-I will make him pay f-for ripping our families a-a-a-apart.=

Thundercracker, looking over his shoulder, felt the first pangs of anger seed themselves in his spark. His trine was a family as dysfunctional as it was. It would hurt and sting to be ripped from them, ultimately to be alone. Skywarp and Starscream would still have each other and a new mech. But he … he would be alone and experimented on while someone else filled his space. All because of Megatron! He would be replaced and forgotten and … broken.

It was then and there that Thundercracker, even if he didn’t know it himself, had stopped believing in the Decepticon cause in all but name.

Chapter Text

What was he doing? What was he doing? What was he doing?!

That was what kept running through Thundercracker’s mind as he walked down the hall, his arms full of a bleeding, broken, and dead cassette. Well, nearly dead. To everyone they passed in the hall, Ravage would appear so with how pale her paint was. Thundercracker knew better. She was alive. He had even pinched a few major lines before stuffing them away so no one could tell.

Like Starscream, there was treachery swimming in his mind.

Frag, what was he doing?! He wasn’t Starscream. He didn’t plot and plan. He was a good soldier. He did as he was told. He didn’t actively look for a thrashing from Megatron. But, he … was angry. He was so angry. He was enraged! He never fought with anger and rage in battle like some Cons. It was professional, grueling and hard, but never did he kill a mech for the mere pleasure of it. Every death had a purpose, but now he wondered: did it really?

Did any of these things matter anymore?! Cybertron was all but dead. There weren't really any classes anymore because there weren’t even mechs around to be Functionalists or for that matter even starve! They were an endangered species! Megatron could end this war. He could end it right fraggen now if he wanted. 

Though he had never given it much thought before, Thundercracker had always thought Optimus an honorable mech, and at one time, Megatron had been as well. Power corrupts though and that miner turned gladiator was no more. Megatron was just a warlord now. He was a paranoid mech that couldn’t see past his own inflated ego! This war wasn’t about him and his personal grudge with Optimus. It was about them: the Cybertronians.

Those two titans had been fighting for too long. Thundercracker was tired of taking lives in the name of a cause that was all but dead. It was just survival at this point, hunger driving their tanks forward.

They were nothing but scavengers coming to this planet, trying to collect its energy. They were all scavengers.

Thundercracker was all but stomping at this point to the incinerator, his face twisted into a snarl. Mechs were stepping out of his way and pressing against the wall to get out of his way, staring in awe both at the rare show of emotion on Thundercracker’s part … and the dripping mess of energon in his arms.

No one dared stop him.

No one dared question him.

Then, he was alone in the semi-darkness of the incinerator room, the only light coming from the red glowing slag pool in the middle of the room. Someone could push a mech in there and no one would ever know. After all, that’s what slag pools were for: melting down the old metal to make new.

No one would notice if one lone cassette was added to the incinerator and melted down to the slag pool or not.

Placing the femme down, looking behind himself, Thundercracker pulled out the few medical tools that he kept on his person for field repairs. This was beyond field repairs. She needed a medic, but she would have to make due with him. Honestly, it was a wonder she was alive at all. Megatron's aim must have been somewhat off though it was more likely that he was making sure not to damage his throne.

Welder coming out, he pinched and soldered more lines then he could count. Half of her torso down to her left leg was scrap. Luckily, her recording devices seemed to be the only things destroyed while her main pump was located higher up in the torso. As for the leg and hip … she could get around with three legs. He had to be fast about this though. She was still bleeding out and he only had a groon to do this while grabbing his things before he left for the spacebridge.

But, then what? Should he really go to Cybertron? Should he run as soon as he’s through the gate? Should he go to the Autobots on Earth instead? Did he want to be a traitor? No, but he did want to end this war. He wanted to go home to Cybertron and rebuild. He wanted to live and not just survive.

Mostly, he wanted Megatron dead.

The thought hit him like a sledge hammer to the helm, the mech finally noticing that Ravage was now looking up at him, some of her color returning. She had said something as well, but he had missed it. His own thoughts so loud he wouldn’t have been able to hear the whine of a cannon being placed to the back of his helm.

For the first time in a long time, Thundercracker truly wanted something more than to be a soldier. He wanted Megatron dead. That’s what he honestly wanted. All the unneeded pain and suffering. Anyone would have made a better ruler than him at this point. Even Starscream would be willing to make a treaty with the Autobots to end the war at this point. After all, most of the senators were deactivated and gone. Most of the tower mechs were gone as well with their towers. The Functionalists barely existed anymore and all the slave coding was long deleted. Now, it was just the Autobots. Frag, maybe they could just split Cybertron down the middle and be done with this war! Anything was better than his slaughter.

Part of him wanted to stomp out of this room and up to the brig, challenging Megatron for leadership. He would not win though. He knew he wouldn’t. He would be crushed and that did nothing for no one.

He had never thought of himself as underhanded like Starscream, but he would have to be if he wanted to destroy Megatron. He wasn't exactly sure where to start but he … he didn’t want to be an Autobot. There was too much strife there, but he could be an informant. Yes. He could crush Megatron from the inside. He could maybe even make a deal for him and his seeker brethren.

He just needed the right leverage.

=I know what you are thinking … it was my creator’s gift,= finally interrupted the femme into his thoughts as his hands stalled, the auto-repair systems already kicking in. =Whatever you decide Thundercracker, I will tell you now … it will not end well for you, but I cannot disagree with the decision either. It was much smarter than mine, but my hatred could no longer be contained. Megatron … is no longer the mech my creator originally followed. I think Soundwave started to question him as well towards the end, but he didn’t know anything else. There had always been Megatron.=

A moment of silence passed in the sweltering room, neither able to decide what to do next.

Finally, the femme spoke again. =I would not go to the Autobots either. Their prejudice is old and ingrained. Even if Optimus Prime accepted you, which I’m sure he would, his officers are not as forgiving as a true Prime. He could not protect you from their wrath forever. For Autobots they may be, but they are merely mechs and can give in easily to hate and sorrow. Unlike their Prime.=

Shifting, the femme looked at her fourth leg a lower torso. Her hips and leg had taken most of the blow and the one leg was barely connected by a few lines. She was once again glad that Soundwave had reinforced her form.

Regardless, she might have bled to death if not for the seeker. In fact, this form was probably trashed. She had a full spark though. She could get a larger form if she wanted. She could even have a bi-pedal form if she had the tools and resources.

Soundwave still had favors to call in after all.

Looking back up at the Seeker, she stated, =If you really want to go after the informant ploy, I will tell you now: Cybertron has many secrets still as does Shockwave. I wonder what the Autobots wouldn’t trade for it? In fact, if not for Shockwave's loyalty and his stance on our home world, how long would Megatron be able to stand?=

The seeker’s wings fell, part of him terrified of the idea of willingly going to Shockwave.

=In the end,= the femme continued, feeling the mech's fear. =It is you who must suffer the choice and the pain. If you survive at all. Cassette Racks are usually created as they are. There is no promise you will survive an upgrade.=

Wings twitching, Thundercracker struggled with himself. He knew what he wanted, but what price was he willing to pay? Would it not be easier to leave entirely? Maybe Starscream would be of assistance? No, that would explode in his face. Frag, what should he do?! He didn’t want the pain. That was what he knew. He didn’t want his spark experimented on. He didn’t want to suffer any more in this warlord’s war!

=I know it is hard, but time is short.=

Swallowing, Thundercracker nodded, deciding he would go to Cybertron and then determine his plans from there.

“And what about you? Your lower extremities are trashed,” he said simply.

=Rip off the leg and give it to the incinerator. I only need three legs and … if things go as I am planning, I will only need two anyway,= said the femme cringing as the bot leaned forward to do away with the dangling appendage. =And, let me into that cockpit of yours. Once on Cybertron, I will make my own way and if I can … I will repay you for sparing my life.=

Nodding, the seeker was about the snip off the remaining tubing, his servo nearly stalling as the femme added =Please know Thundercracker that I misjudged you. I think you would have made my siblings a fine cassette rack.=

For her credit, she did not cry out when he did away with her leg. 

…

It was obvious that it wouldn’t last. He couldn’t press off what was coming forever. No matter how hard he tried.

“Come on, come on, come on. You must have something I can do…” grumbled Eject as he eyed the schedule outside of Prowl’s office. It changed every day and sometimes some of the assignments were so random that almost everyone was sure Jazz and Prowl decided the assignments by Ouija board. Really, how else could they assign people the way they did?

Well, at least it offered opportunities. Generally, someone hated their scheduled assignment and were always willing to drop or trade shifts. Not all assignments could be traded, but he wasn’t looking for the impossible. He was just looking for another excuse. Another reason not to go into Blaster’s room tonight and bond with that Con. Prowl had told Blaster that Eject had been given extra shifts … but not as many as Eject had been taking on for nearly a week. So far he had managed to keep himself so busy that he barely had time to take a break and get some energon. Forget recharge. He barely had time for a nap between shifts.

Pit, he was so tired though. He hadn’t recharged in five days, yet it allowed him to ignore his creator. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up though. Prowl, though sometimes his reprimands could be a little harsh, did not over schedule mechs the way Eject had been over scheduling himself. Yes, Eject was doing his normal shifts and the extra shifts provided by Prowl, but then there were the extra-extra ones that were meant to keep him too busy to return to the cassettes’ quarters.

Overall, he was too busy to bond with Rumble, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Ugh, his optics were sore though. He had a groon before a shift with Ironhide. Maybe, he could sneak in a little recharge now. But first, he had to fill his coming night shift. Hmm, who was trading night openings? Choices. Choices. Hmm. Well, wait! Frag! Was that Steeljaw coming down the hall?! Frag, why did he have to have so many siblings? It was hard enough ignoring Blaster … and Prowl … and Jazz because he talked with Prowl and Blaster… and probably Ratchet and First Aid because he looked like slag. Okay, that list was getting pretty big. Either way, he needed to pick something for the night shift. There was an opening with Mirage or Sunstreaker. Ehhhh. Um, both were terrible.

He felt Steeljaw’s gaze and then a nudge on his side of the bond.

Frag! Mirage! Mirage it was.

Filling in the space that Cliffjumper had marked for trade (why those two had been put together was beyond him to begin with), Eject turned around just in time to smile at his oldest sibling.

“What's up, Jaws?”

=You look like slag,= was the first thing the cat-former said to him as he finished crossing the distance between them, just as the digital schedule approved Eject’s request, successfully filling his time table. = You have any free time yet? Just what did you say to Jazz to have Prowl riding you so hard anyway?=

The cat-former then sat on his hunches and looked over the schedule. There was a moment of silence before Steeljaw sighed out of his vents. =Frag, when is Prowl going to give you some time off? When do you even recharge with a schedule like this? Blaster sent me to check to see when you were off. He wants to talk to you … and see when you can recharge with the rest of us. The bond and all.=

Eject swallowed thickly, his intake feeling blocked and strangled before he lied. “Whenever Prowl’s done being mad, I guess. Don’t worry about it.”

Frowning, glancing up and down at the filled schedule, the elder cassette shook his head. =No, this is unfair. Enough of this. It’s been nearly a week. I am going to ask Blaster to speak with Jazz or Prowl. You don’t even seem to have time to recharge.=

Choking, fumbling for the right words, Eject found himself running after his now fuming sibling. He could even feel the prickle against Steeljaw’s side of the bond … along with, ugh, that had to be Rumble’s forming bond in the corner there with Steeljaw. It even felt coarse and slimy. He best stay away from that.

Ignoring the disgust in his spark, he pressed against his real sibling’s bond connection trying to get him to calm down before that rage got across the shared bond. “Wait, wait, wait! To the time out box, Jaws.”

Stalling, sitting down thought his plates were fanned out in rage, the eldest sibling growled, =What?! I have a cop car to catch and maul. Bonds are not something to be fragged with.=

Stepping in front of the cat-former, his mind racing for an excuse, he decided he was already in a web of lies. What was wrong with another one?

Coughing into his hand, trying to act ashamed, he mumbled, “I kindofmaybeishyelledatProwlwhenIfirstcameback.”

Steeljaw sat there a moment, his ire now cooling down into confusion. =What?=

Sighing, waving his arms like it was some huge confession, Eject lied again, “I kind of snapped at Prowl when I first came back. I was mad and cranky from the long drive, and he said what I said to Jazz was unacceptable. I said I didn’t care and some other stuff. He did that glare-face he does and said he should put me in the brig for my behavior. So I barely got away with this schedule, okay? I don’t need to get in anymore trouble and I didn’t want to upset Blaster right now … Given how hard it’s been on him.”

Tail tapping slightly in irritation, the elder cassette growled =Really?! You snapped at Prowl? How could you? You know Blaster needs our support right now. I know you are the youngest, well … second youngest now … but you should think before you speak. For Blaster’s sake, I won’t mention what you said to Prowl, but you still look fraggen terrible. Head to the room and grab a groon of recharge before your next shift.=

Swallowing thickly, Eject objected, “But-”

=Now, I can feel your exhaustion from here. You should be glad Prowl didn’t do more. If you were older, you probably would have gotten brig time and extra shifts when you got out.=

“But-”

=But nothing. Berth, now. I will get you a cube for when you get up so you better be there,= growled the older sibling as he got back up and started heading in the other direction. =Now, you are wasting recharge time staring after me like that.=

Eject, his plating pulling close, tried not to scream in frustration after his sibling turned the corner. No! No! No! He didn’t want to go back to their shared quarters. He didn’t! In fact, if Steeljaw wasn’t bringing him a cube, he might be able to get out of this.

A sob nearly escaping him, Eject quickly rubbed his servo over his face and decided that he would just make an excuse if Blaster was there. He could state he didn’t have time to talk. If Blaster wasn’t there. He would rest a groon. He was tired and if he was asleep when Blaster came in ... the mech likely wouldn’t bother him. He could just set an internal alarm and rush out of the room like he was late.

Yeah, yeah. That could work. No need to panic. He just needed to take a breather.

Steeling his resolve, Eject made his way to their shared quarters like man to the chopping block. He even stalled in front of the door and stared up at it as if it was going to try crush him if he dared step in. In fact, he nearly jumped out of his armor when the door suddenly slid open, Rewind standing there.

“Oh, it’s you I was feeling through the bond? Is everything alright? Is your door code not working?” said other bi-pedal cassette, the mech still holding a book he had been reading.

Snapping out of it, the younger mech trying to peek inside to see if Blaster was there, merely said, “No, no. Just thinking. Blaster in?”

Frowning, not liking Eject’s behavior, the older cassette said, “No. He has light duty. Should I call him? He’s been wanting to talk to you.”

At this, Eject’s struggle to peer over his brother’s shoulder stalled and his visor flickered in relief. Thank Primus. He was not prepared for that. Walking past his brother, part of him missing the semi-cluttered room, Eject shook his helm. “No, no. I’ll catch him later. I just need some quick recharge before my next shift.”

=Your next shift?= growled Ramhorn from his place on a giant couch. =Where have you been then? We have barely seen you in seven days? You can't have been working this whole time? You are upsetting Blaster and you know it.=

Twitching, suddenly feeling angry, Eject snapped, “I am not! Ain't my fault Prowl is a hard aft! I came here for a nap, a time out. So, you going to let me recharge or should I find somewhere else to recharge?!”

Ramhorn, at first surprised by the outburst, looked ready to get to his feet and thrash the younger mech, but Rewind stepped back into the room, stalling the heavy hitter with his words, “Ramhorn, not now. Eject, you look exhausted. Lay down.”

Eject, giving Rewind a look of confusion and then back at Ramhorn, murmured, “Alright then … I'll lay down. I'm setting an internal alarm, but wake me if I don't get up in a groon.”

“Of course,” said Rewind without a second thought, the two older cassettes watching him.

Giving them both a suspicious glance, he grabbed a mesh blanket and crawled up on top the berth. He looked at his two siblings for a moment before Rewind nodded encouragingly. Eject then laid down and faster than any of them could have guessed started venting deeply as if in recharge.

Rewind wondered if it was real recharge or if the youngest was trying to overhear their conversation. Either way, Rewind doubted that would last long if Eject was faking. He was exhausted. Even though he had been sharing very little of his feelings through the bond, even Rewind could feel the exhaustion. In made his joints ache just looking at him.

=What was that about?! Blaster's upset due to Eject's behavior. He woke up about five days ago and Eject hasn't come to speak to him once! He doesn't even brush against the bond like he generally does. Blaster is getting worried and he doesn't need the stress right now!= barked Ramhorn through a private comm with just Rewind.

=So he is keeping his feelings to himself. He is upset. Its a hard time for him,= said Rewind, trying to placate his hotheaded sibling.

=Its a fraggen hard time for all of us. A Con now in the bond! He needs to suck it up. You saw Blaster's face last night when he found out Eject was working night again. He was … hurt.= All but snapped Ramhorn, a burn of anger coming through the bond and striking out at Eject.

Eject actually twitched at the action, stepping back slightly.

Ramhorn immediately felt bad, a feeling of apology coming through the bond as he shifted uncomfortably. =Sorry, Eject. I didn't mean to snap. I’ve just been upset as well. And … I don't want Blaster to be upset anymore. He's just fretting and fretting over that little slagger's spark guttering out. Rumble doesn't deserve him.=

Nodding, Rewind listened to Eject’s fans cycle down, the younger mech finally asleep. Smiling, he added to his brother, =Neither do I want him upset, but it will be unavoidable when Rumble finally wakes up, but until then … a certain alarm might not be going off. Prowl can go frag himself.=

Ramhorn merely chuckled.

…

Eject had wanted to listen to his siblings, but he had been so tired. He barely lasted two klicks before he was dead to the world, systems so recharge deprived that he didn’t even hear Steeljaw come into the room and speak with his siblings. Steeljaw had promptly agreed that Prowl could go frag himself and left a cube on the nightstand for when Eject woke up.

Not that anyone was planning on him getting up for his shift.

In fact, the three other cassettes all waited like a bunch of vultures as a groon passed. The moment Eject’s internal alarm when off, Steeljaw had jumped up onto the berth and whispered to him that it was nothing. He could turn that thing off and go back into recharge.

Eject did just that, CPU barely on.

About another groon passed after that when a fourth body opened the door.

Blaster stood there a moment, staring at his cassettes in the semi-darkness. They were all piled on the couch doing various quiet activities from reading, plate grooming, to knitting (Sparkplug had said it could help with anger and surprisingly, Ramhorn was great at it though he would never admit to such).  For a moment he was suspicious of their silence until he heard a deep cycle of vents to his left. His helm snapped to a small form on the berth covered in mesh sheets, optics offline.

Eject.

He immediately sagged, Steeljaw had kept his promise of getting him to the berth tonight. Honestly, part of him was relieved that his youngest had come back of his own accord since he obviously wasn’t being sat on currently by Ramhorn. He had been worried about Eject’s behavior. His older siblings, though not entirely pleased, had accepted the new addition almost gracefully. Eject had drawn away. The first few times he had brushed against the youth's part of the bond, wordlessly inquiring where he was. There were just flashes as a reply, stating his youngest was busy. Eject wouldn’t even speak to him, wouldn’t seek him out and clamped off his part of the bond like a vice.

Yet, seeing him here sleeping brought Blaster immense comfort. He was worried about there being a strain on the bond, for both Eject and Rumble, but he was here.

Sitting down the berth, feeling his other cassettes nuzzle against his mind absently, Blaster brought a huge hand over and gently petted down the smaller being's form. Eject merely moaned and tried to burrow into the mesh sheet a little further, growling something about Steeljaw trying to steal his blanket.

Steeljaw rolled his optics and Blaster merely chuckled softly for it was entirely true. Steeljaw always stole everyone’s sheets.

Petting down Eject’s form again, the youth’s spark pressing into the bond that he was exhausted and to let him sleep, Blaster chuckled and pulled the sheet off, sitting the cassette up. A sleepy visor looked up at him, Eject seeming to blink behind it a few times like he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Hey, champ,” said Blaster as he petted down his youngest’s back, pressing into the bond with warm reassurance. “Not getting much sleep, huh? Well, how about we end this party and go into recharge, huh? Can you transform for me?”

Eject, now looking up at him like a sleepy puppy that didn’t understand speech, sat there a moment more helm bobbing as he tried to keep his optics online. He then slowly started to nod, ready to get to his feet and transform, only to stall once he got to his feet, optics over-bright.

He looked up at Blaster with an expression of horrified surprise, then at his siblings that were jumping off the couch, likely getting ready for recharge as well. Then, head snapping back to his creator, Eject asked, “What time is it?”

Blaster, giving his cassette a thoughtful look, tilted his helm and told him the time. The other cassettes immediately groaned as Eject nearly squealed and tripped over Blaster’s hand to get off the berth. His fall to the floor could have been face first if Blaster hadn't clumsily managed to grab him before he cracked his face or visor on the floor.

“I’m late for my shift!” cried the cassette groggily tripped out of Blaster’s fingers and towards the habitation suite’s door. “Mirage is going to do that passive aggressive thing all night and it’s going to be pit! Sweet cross country runners! How didn’t I wake up? I set an alarm and everything!”

Blaster, standing up, called after the cassette, “Little buddy, wait. We need to talk. You are already late, just let someone else pick it up for you. Eject-”

 “No, can do! Sorry, Blaster. I gotta go! Sorry! Sorry!” repeated the cassette as he stumbled to the door nearly falling out of it when the door opened faster than anticipated. “Sorry!”

And then he was gone, leaving his creator standing there, creations at his feet.

Rewind merely sighed and shook head, “Of course he would wake up enough to remember.”

Steeljaw nodded in agreement, looking at the cube on the berthside table, =And he forgot to intake anything.=

Blaster, hand becoming a fist in frustration, turned to Steeljaw and said in a clipped tone, “You said he had the night off, Steeljaw I want there to be a bond formed before Rumble wakes up. I need Rumble to have a base when he wakes up. Rumble is already unbalanced given Frenzy, his twin, offlined. I don’t know how much stress he can take when he wakes. You know that sometimes cassette bonds can break in the first few orns if not treated carefully.”

Head dipping, his tail curling around him slightly in a pout, the cassette stated, =I’m sorry, but his schedule was full, Blaster. So, I made it work. I figured that if I started him on a nap and then you showed up, he wouldn’t have a choice but to talk to you … and then miss his shift.=

Blaster sighed and sat down on his berth, wiping a servo down his face plates in frustration. The last few days had been a nightmare for him. Every mech kept looking at his chassis like Soundwave himself was going to bust out of his chest plates … not the scared young spark that he actually accepted. He really didn't have the patience to be dealing in-bond issues as well. Eject had always been so well tempered. If anyone was going to act out … he was sure it was going to be Ramhorn. “And why couldn’t you just tell me when he had time off? Tricks don’t bring treats, buddy.”

Head falling lower, Steeljaw decided it was best to tell the truth. =He just doesn’t have any free shifts for the next few days. I checked. Apparently, Eject ran his mouth when he came back and now Prowl is really fragged off. He has Eject’s schedule maxed out. I don’t even know when he’s catch recharge time.=

There was a moment of silence, Blaster’s plating pulling close and his electromagnetic field snapping like a whip around his frame. Then, before any of the cassettes could say another word, the rack was heading to the door his tone seemingly friendly though there was a mountain of rage just below the surface. “Well, seems old Prowler and me need to have a chat then. I’m heading out little buddies … don’t wait up.”

…

 Prowl was a complicated being. No one, not even Jazz, would understand entirely why Prowl did what he did. He always thought too far ahead. There was even a joke amongst the Cons that even if you deactivated Prowl, he had preplanned 20 vorns ahead. Kind of like a rattlesnake. Even after it was dead, the head could still bite you.

In some sick way, it was a compliment and not entirely untrue. Prowl was always trying to think ahead. He was always trying to plan battles and access threats before they happened. Some joked he was one step below a seer, always trying to see the future. They weren't far off. He was actually trying to calculate future events at that very moment. He was recalculating how long this war was going to last.

After all, Soundwave was dead, deactivated. Megatron’s most loyal lieutenant, the glue that kept the army together. He was the true figure that all Decepticon’s feared if you asked Prowl. Megatron, yes, he could kill you, but Soundwave could make you wish you were dead. His silence was more haunting than any cannon fire.

Prowl even found it safe to bet that if Soundwave had left or offlined early on in the war, the war would have sputtered out and died long ago. He kept so many mechs in line with his secrets. Prowl was actually currently calculating how many vorns Soundwave’s shadow could keep the army in line before the fear of him died along with his frame.

There was some sick irony to it when he calculate about 20 vorns.

Not bad, honestly, given how long the war had been going on to begin with. Just 20 vorns left, give or take a few, but Optimus wouldn’t think that would be acceptable. Not that Prowl would tell his leader that calculation.

Too many variables.

For example, if Starscream offlined: the war would continue longer than 20s vorns. His constant treachery was probably why Soundwave’s 20 vorns of influence wasn’t something more akin to 40 vorns. He would have to make sure to tell Jazz to leave more bread crumbs for the seeker. Prowl, more than once, had implanted ideas in the seeker's head that weren't entirely his own. True, Starscream was a traitor and made his own decisions, but he took influence from the things around him. Bread crumbs if you will. In a sick way, the seeker was almost a double agent for them.

Prowl smiled bitterly at the thought and wondered if the seeker would ever figure it out.

Soundwave probably had though … given how he had sent Rumble to attack him personally. Slagger was always too smart for his own good.

Regardless, he still had many variables to try and calculate. They had yet to find out if a new TIC had been appointed to the Decepticons. Depending on who it was could add or subtract another three vorns to the war. There was also the question of how many Cons were going to desert. Some mechs had only remained because of Soundwave's blackmail. Who was blackmailed though … only Soundwave had known them all.

Though Rumble might know some of those secrets. Perhaps, the small Con would be beneficial after all.

Yet, just when the tactician was going to start dwelling on the benefits and cons of the newest cassette, there was a ping at this office door. He immediately frowned at this. Everyone knew he rarely left his office right away when his shift was done, but most mechs on principle didn't bother him. It was late in the evening already, the moon having drown the sky with her dark luscious locks, her veil the stars. This was an oddity and Prowl so did dislike those.

They could throw off his calculations.

“The door is open,” called out the TIC as he turned his attention back to his digi-pad, the door opening a nano-sec later, a bulky form trying to loom over him.

Well, someone was mad.

Sighing, looking upward with a slightly irritated yet bored expression, he was actually surprised to see it was Blaster and not someone more predictable like Sideswipe.

“Blaster,” said Prowl in a professional yet clipped tone he was know for. “Have a seat. What seems to be the issue? It is quite late for a meeting.”

There was a moment of strained stillness before the bulky mech sat down, the metal chair cruelly squealing slightly from the thoughtless force. That was something he would expect of one of the more temperamental members of the Autobots. Not Blaster. He was laid back, calm, collected and the voice of better times. He did not upset easily.

Knowing that this was likely going to take all of his attention, he put the digi-pad down and really looked at Blaster. Even with the smile on the red mech's face, he could just feel the glare of those optics. That smile was false.

“How can I help you this evening,” said Prowl, ready to get into the thick of things.

“You really had to go and poke the pappa bear, didn't you?” bit out Blaster, his smile becoming hateful and angry. “Prime even okayed the whole thing. He said I was noble for living up to my vows, but you had to go behind my back with his passive aggressive crap. Its one thing if you give me a hard time Prowl, I can take it, but you don't mess with my cassettes.”

There was a moment of silence, Prowl taking in everything from the way Baster's lip twitched in his twisted smile to the way his fingers dug into his table top. He was about five klicks from a fist fight with their communications officer if he didn't figure out what was wrong and fix it.

This obviously had to do with Rumble and his cassettes. Yes, he had Red Alert setting up extra precautions for when Rumble was out and about, but he did hold some confidence in Blaster. He was not setting up an  all out war on the youngling nor Blaster so he could only calculate that there had been a miscommunication somewhere. If so, it was best to bring it to light before they unnecessarily had to remove dents from their forms.

Pointedly folding his hands on top of his desk so Blaster could see where his hands were, Prowl asked carefully. “I take it something happened with the cassettes and you feel I am to blame.”

“Feel?” ground out Blaster, his voice becoming enraged. “The proofs right there on that schedule! So he mouthed off to Jazz in the forest. Then, he scuffed your pride a little bit when he came back with some adolescent bitching upon return. That's no reason for you to punish Eject this way. When is he supposed to recharge?! When is he supposed to rejoin with the others in the rack and form the beginnings of a bond?! I need him to form a bond with Rumble before the kid wakes up, Prowl. I don't think you understand how brittle my bond with Rumble is right now. He was barely hanging on when I got him. If it breaks, he's dead. That's it, parties over Prowl. We are burying another kid in the name of this war.”

Blaster's fans were now on, heat filtering into the room as the mech's plating pulled tighter and tighter against his frame, EM field starting to bristle and strike out. 

Prowl, door wings hitched, sighed out of his vents and painfully admitted, “Blaster … I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean. I take it this has to do with Eject and his schedule. I told him, the day he came back, that though I don't support his behavior, that he could take a few days to be with you in this trying time. He was the one that insisted on extra shifts. And I did so, but nowhere to the point he cannot recharge. If he needs time off, needs time to recharge or form a bond, he nearly had to ask.”

You didn't have to throw a fit was basically what was left unsaid.

Sitting back, his plating loosening, Blaster ground his denta as a suspicion hit him like a boulder to a windshield, cracks of doubt forming everywhere. He waved his hand and said, “Look at the schedule and tell me what to think then.”

Prowl, glad that Blaster was starting to calm down, grab his digi-pad and pulled up the schedule. He saw the issue immediately and understood the handler's rage. A mech could not function on a schedule like that for long and most of these shift seemed to be … self-appointed.

Putting the pad down, part of him wondering if he should appoint a punishment at all or just allow Blaster to deal with the lying little youngling, he stated, “I would never do that to a mech under my command. I need soldiers to be battle ready, not exhausted and ill-equipped for even basic critical thinking. I … did not do all of this. The night shifts were self-appointed.”

The red mech reared back, covered his face with one of his hands, and then groaned in what had to be mental exhaustion. Blaster sat there a moment just venting slowly before he stood up stated in a tired tone. “I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Prowl … I'll deal with it.”

Prowl, rising to his feet as well, walked to the door. He waved a hand to open it, his words soft before it slid open, raining them in light. “Before you go Blaster, please know that though I do not trust Rumble, I trust you. Now, I will deal with Eject's scheduling issues. I promise he will have time tomorrow to bond with Rumble. Till then, do rest well.”

...

It had not been a surprise to have Mirage glare at him in a passive aggressive manner for the rest of his shift. Not that he cared much. Eject could barely keep his optics online. That nap had served to make him even more exhausted. Frag, he needed to sleep. Then again, that could just be shame.

He had felt it when he woke up. Spark deep relief from Blaster. It was like salve to a sports injury. The other's had not been kidding when they said he had been upset.

Well, Eject hadn't set out to do that. He hadn't. But what else was he supposed to do?

It was too late for talking. It was too late to change anything. He had made his choices at the lake and there was no going back.

He could never take it back.

And so he dwelt the rest of the night on his choices. There seemed to be none. It was almost a relief when something besides his own thoughts and Mirage's silence entered his thoughts. A simple message had appeared on is HUB. Prowl was apparently asking for the cassette to report to his office after his night shift.

Eject grimaced.

Had the tactician noticed his schedule? He he discovered his lies? Was he merely going to ask for him to switch a shift? Well, whatever happened, he could make that work. Another lie. It was just a small one. Yet, he didn't even get to utter a sound or enter Prowl's office for that matter. He knew the charade was over the moment he walked past the main schedule board near Prowl's office. On instinct he meant to glance and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was almost blinding, those simple red words on his schedule: medical leave.

He almost wept right there in the hall. No, he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to speak with Blaster. He had all but run from his creator the night before. Most though … He didn't want Rumble in his bond. He didn't want a Con, a murderer, for a brother.

A firm voice was the only reason Eject didn't cry out right there before the schedule board, Prowl's door opening and the tactician stepping out. “Ah, Eject. Do come in … or have you already seen the schedule?”

Eject could say nothing. He didn't trust his vocals and so he merely nodded.

Surprisingly, a warm hand came down on his small shoulder, Prowl looking at the schedule for a moment before he added, “There comes a time in every youngling's life when they must start making the hard choices towards adulthood and accept things as they are … no matter how unsavory. Do you understand, Eject?”

Swallowing, his optics feeling wet under his visor, Eject slowly nodded again.

“Good mech,” said Prowl, his next words biting. “And don’t you ever lie to me again, soldier. You would then deal with my punishment instead of your creators. Now, head to the berth, young mech. You look terrible and Blaster did seem rather eager to talk to you. I dare say you shouldn't keep him waiting.”

Then Prowl was gone. Back in his office, down the hall, or rejoining with Unicron's shadow ... Eject's mind couldn't even tell him. It was taking all that was in him not to cry right there in the hall. 

Chapter Text

It took about a groon for Eject to calm down enough to vent properly when he had finally wandered away from Prowl's office. He hated that it took that long, but at least no one had crossed him in the halls or questioned his terrified venting. Luckily, everyone seemed to understand his longing to be alone the entire day and had left him beneath the shade of the giant oak to collect himself. It was one of the largest trees near the Ark located near the woodland. It was burnt and blackened at the top where lightning had tried to claim it. Yet it stood, unyielding even with its charred bark and missing branches from a jetpack incident. It still lived. It was alive and vibrant despite its scars. It carried on.

Eject somewhat envied it.

He wished he could just accept his lot in life, his family’s bond disfigured by Rumble’s disgusting presence, but he just … he just couldn’t. He was angry. He would rather run away! Frag being bound by another. He'd rather fade!

And yet he just couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to leave Blaster.

He loved Blaster and his brothers.

It wasn’t like there was any place to go anyway. Hosts weren’t that numerous before the war and now … there really wasn’t a lot of them left.

Sniffling, he resisted the urge to get up and run as a familiar presence finally filled his spark, the sound of heavy peds now heading in his directions.

Soon, there was the rustle of pebbles under-ped and the sigh of heavy vents as his creator sat down next to him under the cover of the oak tree. The birds were only silent for a klick before they started their song again, singing away their merry day. They didn’t care for a little cassette and his inner turmoil beneath their tree. Eject wanted to hate them as much as he hated the wind that was causing the swaying grass to sing. The world was entirely too chipper. Eject just wished the whole world was as miserable as he was right now. 

“Hey, little buddy,” came the warm almost tired voice of Blaster, the mech’s EM field washing over him and their bond for a moment. “I know you don’t want to, that you would rather just stay on the bench and wait out the game, but we need to talk. Do you know what I want to talk about?”

Helm still buried in his hands and knees, Eject nodded. He didn’t think he could look up at his creator. He didn’t even try to raise his head.

“Do you want to tell me why you lied to me? To your siblings? To Prowl?” asked the cassette rack, his voice almost too exhausted to be angry, but it was there. A quieted rage.

Still refusing to look at his creator, a sob in his throat if he dared speak, the symbiot shook his head. No, he didn’t want to tell him. Honestly, he felt it was rather obvious.

Blaster sighed, the sound of joints hissing almost caused the young mech to bolt, but suddenly he was being wrapped up in a hug, the larger form encasing him. There were no words needed to know what was being said. Blaster was forgiving him. Blaster always forgave him. Eject almost wished the red mech was angry or enraged or at least openly disappointed. It would have been less painful than this. It would have been less agonizing than this automatic forgiveness and understanding.

Unable to stop himself, Ejected started blubbering, unable to hold it in a moment more since Prowl had stood over him that morning. It was messy and loud and pathetic, but through the sobs he finally admitted, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry! I just-I just …hick … don’t want him to be part of me! I don’t … hick … want to be-be a Con! H-he’s going to w-wear off on me-me and I-I will-ll be j-just like h-him. I don’t-t want t-to be like h-him. H-he’s just going to-o hurt o-our family a-and its all m-my fault. I-I shouldn’t have said-d anything a-at the l-lake.”

Sighing out of his vents, slowly pulling out of the hug so he could look down at the hiccuping mass, Blaster murmured, “Little bubby, young spark, it doesn’t work that way. Yes, Rumble will be in the same bond, but you will still be you. Your siblings will still be as cankerous, moody and offbeat as usual. Things might be a little different, we might have to make changes and be patient, but don’t think of this as bad. Rumble is young, a little younger than you, he will be able to adapt and change. If anything, when he wakes up, I’m sure he will be just as scared and upset as you are.”

Blaster then rubbed a large finger over his cassette’s cheek, smiling sadly down at Eject.

Eject in turn, tried to nod his head in understanding while trying to wipe his own tears away, but he couldn’t seem to keep up with the now flowing water-works. He was getting cleanser everywhere and was going to probably overheat with the way he was hiccuping, his vents closing and opening of their own accord. Baster didn’t seem to mind though, he just took his thumb and wiped the tears away, not the least bit perturbed with Eject's growing breakdown.

“Shush, vent little one. It’s going to be okay. You hear me, little buddy? No more of this hiding. You are going to be fine. We are all going to be fine. Just try to vent,” he added, petting that sobbing helm again before he wiped a finger over one of Eject's stuttering vents.

Eject, venting even harder, his engine whining, tried to gather himself. It wasn't working. If anything, his sobbing was worse. At this rate, he was going to overheat.

“Come now, Eject. Vent for me. I need you to be strong for Rumble, okay? He’s probably going to be frightened when he wakes up. This is new to him as well. And I know he’s a Con and that he isn’t perfect, but he did as he was told. It is Soundwave who should be ashamed. Not him and definitely not you should be ashamed. You did nothing wrong by telling me Rumble was still online.”

Sobbing, nodding even though he didn’t want to, Eject cried even harder his whole body shaking as warnings started popping up on his HUB. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t. He didn’t want to form a bond with Rumble, but he also wanted to do as Blaster asked. He wanted to be strong for Blaster.

“That’s good little buddy, my spark. Now, can you transform for me? I know you are tired and upset, but can you do that?” asked Blaster again, voice so warm and forgiving. “It’ll be okay.”

Sobbing muffled as his vents refused to open, Eject knew he wasn't going to be able to calm down on his own. That was okay though. Blaster would pull his systems into recharge the moment he was inside his chassis. He was scared, terrified, but he still rose to his feet, swaying for a moment as his spark stuttered in its casing. There was no point in putting it off now or risk overheating. Plus, he just wanted back into the bond, to feel the playful nudge of Blaster and the others.

He didn’t want to be alone anymore. The last few days had been terrible.

And so, reaching up to Blaster to return the hug, Eject tried to force his tightly sealed vents to intake as he stumbled back and then transformed. Blaster opened his chassis as perfectly timed as usual, spark light lighting up the coming evening of the world.

Chassis closing with a heavy click, everything was warm and kind about Blaster as the cassette rack took control over his systems. Immediately, the panic started to bleed away, feelings of acceptance and support coming from his host.

Feeling the larger spark wash over him, Eject noticed that nothing had changed about Blaster. He was the same. Yet, as he felt Blaster’s systems pull him into forced recharge and repair, he did feel something. It was just the shiver of another half-spark.

Astonishingly, it wasn’t ugly or as hateful as he thought it would be. If anything, it was as scared and terrified as he was. Apparently, it was also lonely.

Surprising even himself, the forming part of the bond rose to greet it and he wasn't disgusted at all. In fact, he greeted it warmly.

…

...

Blackout smiled as he stalled before Soundwave’s room. Well, his room now. It was almost Thundercracker’s actually. He felt a little bad for the seeker. Slagger was so going to die. What a waste. The mech had pretty wings. Not as much of a waste as the femme cassette though. She was smart and would have been a useful tool, but you win some you lose some and then some fragger ends up dead.

Hitting the door control, it unsurprisingly did not open. It just pinged at him irritably.

The large mech glared at the door control and hit it again. It merely chirped once more.

=Scorponok,= growled the mech through their bond.

=Yesssss?= questioned the cassette.

=Why isn’t this door open? I thought you were already in there. You said that two of the cassettes were already deactivated,= growled his owner, hitting the door with his fist.

=Well … I did get up into the floorboard and then I was attacked. They have reinforced all the plating in the floors since. I could force my way into the room … if you don’t mind a few holes in your new floor?= said the cassette, already knowing that his Master was the new communications officer. =Or you could wait for a few more klicks until your position is acknowledged by the ship and you can just let yourself in.=

The copter stood there a moment as if trying to decide what he wanted. He could break into the room, but it would leave the room open for attack in the future. He could also have Scorponok go through the floorboards, but it would leave a possible escape route if any of the remaining cassettes tried to run. Or … he could wait.

Fraggg … waiting was so boring. He’d rather rip something to pieces, but he would wait. His handler had always told him to take care of his things and to have patience. Then again … his handler was long gone and dead. Patience did him little good and then Blackout had to raised himself for the most part.

Finally, he received a bing telling him he had most of the access rights that Soundwave had had.

Smiling, he commed his cassette to come meet him at the door, and once the scorpion-bot was there, he asked, “You ready for this? I love it when they run.”

Yet, as the two bots opened the door, Blackout slamming it behind himself promptly and locking it … they did not receive the fight they had both been expecting. There was even the smell of death in the room.

 Frowning, wondering if he should turn on the lights and see if the little fraggers somehow overcame their self-harm programs and deactivated themselves, a caw filled the room and suddenly two flying cassettes were dive-bombing him.

“Egh! Not the audios! Not the audios!” cried the copter as he tried to bat away Buzzsaw and Lazerbeak as they dive-bombed him.

Scorponok, not wanting to be stepped on, quickly backpedaled away from the larger bot, stuck somewhere between amusement and anger. Yet, he quickly noticed that there were only the two attacking. Where was the third cassette? Looking around, dancing through his creator’s legs as the mech stomped around trying to whap away the irritating little fliers, he quickly found the third. He was on the berth, covered in foil. He was likely placed up there, away from the floor, due to Scorponok’s earlier attack.

Almost wishing he had a mouth to smile, the scorpoion-bot decided that he would end this little charade here and now. He was the only original creation and he wanted the other three to know their place in the hierarchy: they were all below him, expendable.

Making his way to the top of the berth, he slowly stalked toward the weak bi-pedaled cassette that was trying to sit up and aim a small acid-pellet gun at Blackout. He could barely raise his arm or keep his visor online though. He was a mess and the only reason the youngling was probably still alive was because of the two older half-sparks that were now trying to attack the intruder.

Many legs clicking, not the least bit worried now if the weak cassette noticed him, he almost skipped to the other side of the berth. He loved it when that helm turned in his direction, EM field suddenly full of fear. That arm then tried to turn on him, but the older cassette merely slapped the acid-gun away with a fling of his tail. A nano-klick passed before the red cassette was knocked down, the scorpion-bot now over the little slagger with his tail raised in order to strike.

His words bounced around in all their helms as he called out with an open comm. =Bird brains … look what I got.=

Lazerbeak was the first to look around the room and his spark sank. Slaggen stupid youngling. If Buzzsaw’s cry of distress was any indication … he noticed as well. Doing one more swoop around the copter, ignoring Frenzy’s weak cry of don’t, they both landed across the room on their usual perch, both ruffled and enraged.

Blackout, wiping away some energon from his lip plate where one of the bird-formers had caught him, grinned down at his own cassette. He then sauntered forward, smiling almost wickedly at the two fliers as he headed to the berth. He petted Scorponok down the back before waving the cassette off, grabbing Frenzy before he could even try to crawl away. He manhandled the smaller bot, even going so far as to use his thumb to press his intake open, looking down Frenzy's throat as if he was checking livestock's teeth before buying it.

“Pff, a youngling. No wonder he’s almost deactivated,” said the mech as he roughly placed Frenzy back onto the berth like a doll, grabbing a leg and pulling him back when he tried to crawl away. “Now, what are your designations, cassettes? Megatron has given you three to me.”

Frenzy started as he tried to focus, slurring, “W-what? Three? W-where’s R-ravage?”

Frowning, the copter waved off the question. “Slag at this moment I suppose. Megatron has little patience of traitors.”

The three cassettes all called out, demanding to know what had happened, but were all silenced when the copter barked, “Enough! She made her choice! Now, designations! I need them for the cassette rack vows. Now or you all are getting new names. So unless you want Birdbitch, Featherfreak and Redmope as your new designations, I recommend you cough up your names.”

The two bird-formers cawed in disgust, Buzzsaw surprisingly speaking up for both of them. =Frag you. We are not afraid to deactivate.=

Giving the spy-cassette a smug look, he waved towards Frenzy. “And what of the young one? Are you willing to watch him deactivate as well? He will go before you. So it’s either all of you or none of you. Do you understand?”

Frenzy, optics going bright behind his visor, shook his helm, “No, no, no! You two don’t have to do that. I’m ready to be with Soundwave. I am ready!”

The two older cassettes though … looked away from him, pressing their beaks together in a show of affection as the copter looked at them hungrily. They were the oldest now. Rumble was their responsibility. Ravage … she apparently wasn’t here anymore. They hadn’t even felt her go.

Buzzsaw, softer spark of the two of them, gently asked, =He has barely gotten to live? Should we try?=

Looking at the youngest among them, Lazerbeak relented and offered up softly, =I am Lazerbeak, my brother is Buzzsaw … and the youngest one is Frenzy.=

Frenzy could only look up at the bird-formers in horror. No. No. No! He was not going to be the reason for their suffering. He was not going to drag out their pain as they remained alive for him. He would not do that! Yet, he never got to voice his complaint, a clicking filling the room as the large mech suddenly parted his chest plates, light raining into the room like a sun. The cassette nearly whined as the larger mech's EM field washed over all of them, his half spark recognizing the offer despite how much Frenzy already hated the copter. Even Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw twitched, their sparks hungry for support.

Waving towards his chassis, the large mech rumbled, “Then you two must go first. The brat will go last. Deal?”

It was slow and pained, even as Frenzy choked that they should not agree, but both bird-formers nodded … and a deal was struck. They were his and Blackout would do whatever he wanted with them.

The rest was like a nightmare to the young cassette as Blackout gave the Cassette Racks Vow. It was spoken perfectly but behind it they could hear the half-truths and lies. No one even pretended it was sincere. Frenzy could barely watch, through his tears, as his two older siblings folded up and accepted the false vow.

Frenzy, at this point, could barely move. He didn’t want to move. He had been slowly accepting his death, to be reunited with Rumble … to maybe forgive his brother in the Well of Sparks. Not this. He didn’t want this.

He didn’t have a choice though. He was forced to transform, to accept his new master. Even transformed, he knew that he screamed when he was placed in the rack. His new owner’s spark seemed to burn him to the core, claiming him spark and all.

He was little more than property to this mech.

And for a moment, he was glad he had sent Rumble off. He was glad that he had screamed at him and blamed him for Soundwave’s death. He was glad that Rumble had wandered off to die a traitor’s death. He was glad for his brother … because he was allowed to die at all.

After all, his brother was free.

…

Meanwhile, in Blaster’s chest, Rumble wavered slightly at his twin’s pain and almost woke. The after images of his lost twin’s pain barely bleeding into his spark. He, unknowingly, squirmed away from it, his mind unknowingly labeling his sibling as dead.

And so, his spark wanting to fill the forming hole where Frenzy had been, he pressed a little closer to the other half spark that was greeting him, wondering if this one would fill the void left by his twin-spark.

Chapter Text

Rumble blinked his optics on and off sitting there in the sand, sand sinking between plating as confusion rippled through his frame. Where was he? What was he doing here? What was going on?

Frowning, memories foggy and lethargic, he glanced around. He seemed to be in a dark cavern of some kind, light reflecting from somewhere over the stalactites. It was kind of pretty … in a desolate how-the-frag-did-I-get-here kind of way.

Slightly concerned, the cassette slowly pulled himself to his feet and looked around. Yes, he definitely was in a cave of some kind, little shafts of sunlight reflecting off the stone ceiling and reflecting off the crystals strewn about. He could even hear the lapping of water. Turning his helm toward the sound, Rumble found out where the light was coming from … it was a watery entrance of some kind.   

Rubbing his optics, mind fuzzy and confused, he started forward towards the rippling pool, small waves hitting against the cave’s stone features. Yes, he must be in a sea cave. His sensors were even picking up the salt in the air. He would exit that way. It seemed to be a water entrance, yet when he stood over the perfect pool of lit up blue water, he did not immediately jump in. He stalled. He found he was afraid of the water. For one, it seemed to glow almost like processed energon. The other reason … he couldn't remember. In fact, he didn’t want to remember. What could …

Suddenly, there was a stabbing pain in his helm, images reflecting off the glimmering pool. There was a dock surrounded by mist and in the water below … there was a form, a drifting shadow. It was rusting and rotting and-

He stepped back, turning his helm. He did not want to see. He did not want to recall. He did not want any of this! Placing his helm in his hands, hating himself for being such a coward, the young cassette nearly jumped out of his plating when a new sound echoed over the cave walls.

Skkk, skk, tttt …. skkkkkkkcccchhh.

The young mech released his helm, all thoughts fluttering away like a flock of birds. That sound … what was it? It was foreboding and haunting, yet it was almost drowned out by the dripping sound of the cave walls and the rumble of ocean waves just outside. It sounded like scratching … like metal through earth or digits on stone.

Not wanting to be near those blue waters, not wanting to accept the images that would befall him if he took the plunge, Rumble instead turned his helm in the direction of the sound. It almost sounded like bats or some other skittering beast of the world. What else would be in the dark of this cave?

Deciding that marginally anything was better than the pool of memories, the young mech wandered away from the light of the water. The deeper parts of the cave were covered in shadows, darkness, and dampness. There was very, very little light except for his visor … but he followed the sound nonetheless. It seemed to take forever, going around the bends and puddles of the cave until he came upon something in the corner. Something big and bulky. It … it was a mech, had to be, and they had their back to him.

Part of Rumble immediately wondered if he could get the drop on this jerk-former. Yet, such thoughts were immediately banished as light glinted off the other mech’s form, revealing the larger bot’s paint job. Blue. He knew that color. How could he forget that particular midnight blue? He had known it all his life.

“Boss? … Is that you?” His voice was meek, barely a whisper. Was this the Well of Sparks? Was he being returned to his creator? Had the pain finally ended?

The scratching noise, or digging he would presume given all the displaced sand around Soundwave, stalled but Soundwave did not turn around. Instead, he invented deep and long, vents rattling like they were clogged. It sounded sick and immediately put the cassette on edge.

Swallowing, unnerved as a dread settled in his spark, Rumble turned the brightness up on his visor so that it illuminated the cave like a waxing moon. He immediately regretted the action when he saw the bubbling of rust and decay on the rack’s shoulder plates and sides, the internals of his back revealed like a metallic skeleton. How he wasn’t oozing energon everywhere was beyond the young mech. All he knew was that his master needed him.

“Boss! Boss!” cried Rumble as he scrambled forward, slipping in the sand while memories tried to prickle at the back of his mind. “Are you hurt?! Boss!”

“Rummmmble,” suddenly came a single word, weak and rough like metal scratching on metal.

“Yes, boss! What? What?” cried Rumble as he ran in front of his creator, ready to ask how he could help. Instead, as he stepped in front of his creator, he stalled, his vents catching as he threw his hands over his mouth to silence his scream.

Slowly, visor half cracked and ruined, a single flickering optic turned to him. The cassette rack’s face was half ruined, rusted away. Soundwave’s face mask was all but gone and his jaw hung limply by a few loose bolts on the unmarred side of his face. You could even see the tubing leading down into his throat, and yet the blue Con’s jaw shook as the obviously dead figure struggled to speak. The key term was tried as purple fluid oozed out of his mouth.

To terrified to look, to see that rotting jaw move, Rumble tried to turn and run away, but a rusted arm lashed out grabbing him by a servo. Soundwave then dragged him back to him, ignoring Rumble’s hysterical blubbering and pleads to be let go. His creator merely pulled him closer, purple ooze falling down Rumble’s chest and face, threatening to fall into his mouth as Soundwave’s throat tubing and damaged vocalizer struggled to move.

“Rummmmble, seeee,” he finally said as he moved his other hand over Rumble’s face, leaving a purple stain. “See his … blood in … me … the old gods come.”

Then, before Rumble could even ask what that meant, his creator suddenly lifted him up, revealing a pool of electric-purple fluid behind him. It was what he had been digging up … and then he pushed Rumble in, a dark laugh that did not belong to his creator immedatly echoing in his head.

Beneath the electric energon or mech blood or whatever it was, Rumble felt a presence. It was so old and dark and oh so hungry. Opening his mouth, he tried to scream … but all that did was allow the darkness in and down his throat. It would consume him, spark and all until he was nothing but rust.

…

Blaster was pulled from recharge with a short cry, batting out in terror as arms tried to hold him down. He didn’t know why he was so terrified, but his spark resonated in fear.

Battle protocols coming online, his whole spark screaming for him to protect his charges, that his cassettes were crying out in his chassis, Blaster wasn’t met by the sight of an attacker. No, these optics were blue and stern. In fact, they belonged to none other than Ratchet as the medic stood over him. The medic was moving his mouth, trying to speak to him. Immediately, Blaster invented and told his systems to still as he reached out in his bond to make sure all his chargers were safe.

“Blaster, Blaster. Are you okay? Blaster?”

Systems binging back stressed but acceptable, Blaster nodded his helm, his vents still gasping and unable to form words. Just keeping his mind on inventing, the communication’s officer allowed Ratchet to exam him, the medic’s scans bouncing over him in almost dizzying proportions. It was then that he also noticed that Ironhide and Jazz were behind the medic, both wearing troubled expressions. Blaster immediately looked away from their gazes, hating that that worry was directed at him. He liked to be the life of the party … not the death of it.

Ratchet, as if noticing Blaster discomfort, quickly distracted his patient. “Blaster, are the cassettes alright? Jazz heard you scream and … overrode your door. He thought it was a bad defrag but he couldn’t get you to wake and then you started clawing at your chassis. Ironhide then walked by and helped drag you in. Are they alright? Can you open up and let me have a quickly look?”

Still overcome, his CPU struggling to process what had happened, Blaster looked down at his chassis. His red paint job had been mauled. Luckily, it just looked like superficial damage, nothing extensive and obviously self-inflicted. Instantly, though, he started worrying about the youngest in his chassis. He now knew the origin of the terror in his spark. It was from the bond. Rumble was wailing into the connection, trying to grasp at anything for comfort. He was absolutely terrified. If Blaster opened his chassis right now, Rumble would likely run like a frightened deer.

The bond was forming nicely, but Blaster doubted it was strong enough to allow Rumble to wander more than a few meters from him or one of his new siblings quite yet. If Rumble panicked in his fear and ran away from the Ark? Blaster didn’t want to think about the consequences. A shattered bond could be catastrophic for someone Rumble’s age.

Placing a hand on his chassis, shaking his helm, Blaster vented a few more times before he was able to choke, “Just a klick, Ratch. Rumble’s awake and terrified. I’m trying to calm him down through the bond, but it’s still new … I don’t know how well he can hear me.”

A klick turned into about twenty klicks before Blaster had calmed down enough that he was venting normally, his optics dim as if he was thinking deeply. Then, nodding to Ratchet, he said, “Okay, he wants out. Bad. He keeps kicking back my internal systems when they try to force him into recharge. He’s coming out Ratch … Can you, I don’t know, lock the med back doors and … be able to catch? He feels like a runner.”

Nodding, Ratchet waved First Aid to the doors while Jazz and Ironhide came over to help catch.

It was odd and awkward, Blaster telling the other cassettes to transform as soon as they were out in case Rumble ran, but he unlocked his docking station. Then, opening his chassis, the first cassette out was unsurprisingly Rumble, the kid transforming midway only to be caught by the local harpy and a stumbling Ironhide.

Immediately, the cassette screamed and kicked Ironhide in the face. Ironhide, of course, fell into Jazz leaving Ratchet alone with a screaming, wailing, kicking and crying young bot. The youth’s whole form was hot and shaking from his internal struggled. If this was calmed down, Ratchet would have hated to know what the cassette would have been like a few klicks ago. The other cassettes quickly departed their creator and Blaster offered his arms to Ratchet, trying to get ahold of his charge.

Ratchet tried to comply, but Rumble started biting and swearing obscenities while telling the medic to let him go. Ratchet endured though, knowing that if he left Rumble go it would be more detrimental then banging out a few minor dents. Finally, Blaster managed to take the cassette from the medic and the small form went limp immediately, now bawling like a lost sparking, clenser dripping down from behind his visor and onto Blaster’s chassis.

“I-I don’t w-want to rust. H-he’s coming. The old g-gods. I d-don’t want to rust. Please, boss. Please.”

Rumble’s words made Blaster shiver slightly as little snippets of what had happened in recharge were dragged forward. That was some … defrag? No. Defrag didn’t seem quite right. Defrags were memories and didn’t create scenarios like that. He’d dwell on what he could recall from the bond later. Right now, all that matter was getting Rumble calmed down. Poor thing didn’t need this kind of stress right now.

“Here, let me give him a digital sedative,” said Ratchet, coming up to the fretting cassette rack. It wasn’t until Ratchet was standing over him that he realized he was letting off waves of worry from his EM field. Blaster tried to drag it back in, but it was hard to with Rumble wailing like that.

Taking up an arm, even though Rumble weakly tried to tug it away, Ratchet popped open some plating in the wrist and put a digital sedative into the medical jack. Almost immediately, the young-bot’s wailing turned into soft whimpers, his vents now expelling hot air and his EM field calming somewhat. Ratchet, on instinct, petted the side of Rumble’s head as the cassette was forced into a semi-haze. Personally, Ratchet preferred digital sedatives over chemical ones for this very reason. It kept the patient awake but calm and also dulled emotional responses.

“There we go, kid. Just vent. Okay, now what happened?” said Ratchet to Blaster, medical scans now falling over the two as he shooed the rest of the cassettes off the berth. He didn’t need to trip on them.

“Yeah, what happened?” asked Eject carefully as he resisted the urge to hug himself. Awake now, he realized just how much Rumble had been clinging to his part of the bond. It had felt like a normal defrag at first, but then … it wasn’t. He didn’t catch much over the forming bond, but it was enough to unsettle the second youngest. He had caught a glimpse of … Soundwave and his hanging jaw, rotting away into rust. It had been terrifying. “Was that a defrag? I mean, it didn’t feel like a defrag. It couldn’t have been. So, what was it? I mean … Soundwave was talking to him … and he was dead.”

Blaster frowned at that, having now recalled that much of the strange defrag. Ratchet, as well, sighed, “Well, given the dead generally don’t speak. It probably wasn’t a defrag.  If it was I think it was, it’s a complication.”

Blinking, petting the side of Rumble’s helm as Rumble pressed his face into Blaster’s chest, Blaster wearily asked, “What kind of complication?”

“CPU issues likely. It could be just some bad programming needing to be updated or maybe a virus. At worst, it’s the start of a glitch. Either way, he needs a full medical evaluation. I was going to put it until he was a little more settled in, but I feel now is probably the best time, especially if it’s a virus or glitch. Now, let’s plug him into the medical berth for a scan and I’ll check him over externally,” said Ratchet, pulling a medical cord from out of the berth while finding the medical port in the back of Rumble’s neck. Generally, he’d unspool his own medical cord and do this, but in case Soundwave left any nasty surprises he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d rather lose the medical berth.

Rumble, unsurprisingly, shivered as he was plugged the berth in, the berth pushing firewalls to the side as it set to work. He grasped at Blaster’s seams weakly, whining in the back of his throat that he didn’t like it. Blaster merely tried to shush him.

“Alright, I know you don’t want to put him down, but I need you off the berth Blaster. At least for a few klicks. Some of the sensors won’t work properly if there is another body on it. Plus, I need to document his weight and density. His color is concerning,” said the medic as Blaster reluctantly got off.

Feeling like he was dealing with a first-time creator, Ratchet added, “I will have First Aid get you a chair though … and I’ll have him look at those gorges in your chassis. It’s just a few klicks. Everything will be fine.”

…

Thundercracker felt the rush of the spacebridge fall behind him, his wings twitching from the atmospheric change from Earth to Cybertron. He immediately resisted the urge to place a hand on his canopy where Ravage shifted uncomfortably. He also tried not to twitch as he heard a jet overhead. He had been hoping he would at least get to stand and enjoy the sight of his home world, as broken as it was, for a moment before he was forced to face Shockwave, but that didn’t seem the case. Three klicks later, a large blue jet followed by a nearly identical green one transformed and landed in the courtyard in front of him. They were both heavy class jets, armor thick and engines large.

It took all of Thundercracker’s self-control not to step backwards as the two towering jets stepped up to him, both a head taller than him. He immediately felt cornered and prayed to Primus they both merely thought his cockpit was full of his supplies and not a half-dead cassette.

“Are you Thundercracker?” said the blue one as he wandered a circle around the purple seeker, the green seeker merely standing there with his arms crossed over his cockpit.

Thundercracker, unsure if he trusted his glossa, merely nodded.

“Good. We are the twins. I am Dreadwing and my brother is Skyquake. We serve Shockwave,” said Dreadwing in his deep tones, his wings hiking up for a moment. “He asked that we settle you in and then bring you to him.”

It was left unsaid that they would shoot him down if he didn’t come willingly.

Nodding, his glossa still frozen in his throat, Thundercracker slowly followed after the larger seeker, the green one taking up the rear. He immediately felt trapped, his wings shivering though he tried his damnest to look calm and collected. He made sure to stare up at the sky the entire time before he was led inside … for he didn’t know if he would ever see it again.

Chapter Text

Thundercracker tried to drag his peds, he really had, but before he knew it he was being introduced to his quarters. Though quarters was a hyperbole. It felt more like an observation room. The walls were stark steel and the room was spartan in all ways. It only had a simple desk in the corner and what was obviously a fully equipped medical berth instead of a normal recharge berth to plug into. Said berth was likely loaded with monitors of all kind and it immediately unnerved Thundercracker.

For a klick the seeker dwelled on just running for it but the heavy ped steps behind him were a painful reminder of his current circumstances. Even if he could outrun the two larger jets, Dreadwing and Skyquake, what then? The DJD? He knew the Decepticon Justice Division was more a legend than fact but traitors just disappeared sometimes. Many merely said that it was probably starvation, but the seeker felt there was more to it than that.  

After all, Shockwave always needed new subjects.

Swallowing, his hands shaking, the two jets must have taken pity on him and head to the door. Dreadwing’s voice somehow cut through the growing panic in the seeker’s helm. “Get settled in. We will be back shortly. Shockwave wants to do an examination before he starts any tests.”

Still unable to speak, he merely nodded, still staring at his new berth with a type of growing dismay. It felt like an eternity before the door actually slid shut, leaving him alone. Well, almost alone.

Throwing a scan out to make sure the monitors in the room weren’t on yet, Thundercracker opened his cockpit and gingerly placed Ravage on the berth. He stared at her for a moment, the two sharing a moment of silence.

“I suppose this is it,” said the Seeker. “We go our separate ways... Hopefully one of us can get revenge on Megatron.”

= If we live that long = said the femme over the comms. = Shockwave will rip you apart and then put you back together. It will not be pleasant and there is a high probability you will deactivate. Are you sure you don’t want to try to try running? =

TC shook his head. “I wouldn’t get far. Even if those hulking twins didn’t catch me, I’d be trapped on the planet and it would either be starvation or the Autobots that would get me.”

The cassette was silent for a moment, before she agreed, = I suppose you are right. =

The two were silent once more, knowing the futility of their situation. They may not survive the orn or even long enough to get any kind of revenge on Megatron for harming their families, for driving their world and people to madness. Optimus Prime wasn’t perfect, but he was no Sentinel Prime either. After most of the Senate and towers had fallen, Megatron should have sat down with the Prime. He should have spoken with him like the miner turned poet he was.

But she didn’t think there was anything left of that poet. His mind and beliefs had bled away onto pages never to be read again. Not even by himself apparently.

= Listen, Thundercracker. Shockwave … Shockwave had once been a good mech. A mech that wanted to better the world for all its people … And then they took his face and his hands, = Ravage said softly, recalling how the scientist had claws before he got replacement hands and how they used to click like a clock counting down. I had been unnerving. = That wasn’t the worst part though. They didn’t stop there. Then ripped his emotions from him, from his very spark. All he was left with was his logic. It would have been a kindness to kill him. =

Thundercracker looked away, his hands becoming fists. He knew the tale of empurata all too well. How many cold constructs were mauled for merely wanting a voice? Despite himself, TC was forced to look at his own hands in sympathy, moving all his fingers just to make sure they were there.

= You misunderstand, Thundercracker. Don’t pity him for he will not pity you. Not because he doesn’t want to. I think a part of Shockwave would do anything just to feel some kind of emotion, = she added, recalling one of the greatest secrets of her cassette rack. = Regardless, if you are dead set on destroying Megatron from the inside by selling secrets to the Autobots, know that Shockwave houses many of Megatron’s downfalls. He is driven by logic. It is only logical that he keeps himself functioning … and the only figure he considers powerful enough to challenge that survival is Megatron. In some strange way, he is obedient and yet the greatest traitor at the same time. If you can get your hands on even a few of those secrets, Megatron will crumble. =

Swallowing, the seeker nodded, “I understand, but … how do I know he won’t keep me in a lab the whole time, strapped to a berth and screaming my vocals out?”

The cat-former cocked her head as if it was a stupid question. = See this room. He didn’t have to give you one. He understands that normal mechs feel happiness and contentment. He knows a docile patient is easier to deal with then a prisoner. Don’t beg. If you want something, give a logical reason for it. If you want outside, claim sky madness. If you want in the labs, claim it’s to be more educated and effective in the experiment. If you need painkillers, explain your worry about overloading your systems and damaging sensitive wiring; thus, it would be more detrimental than allowing you painkillers. You need to give a logical reason for the things you need or want. Do you understand? =

Swallowing, his wings twitching and his vocals feeling weak … all TC could do was nod.

= Good, now will you open that vent for me. I will rest here a few mega-cycles so that my self-repair can kick in. If you can stand after the first experiment, please bring me energon and supplies … though I do not expect it. Once I have my strength back I shall meet some of Soundwave’s old contacts and blackmail those I must, = she said simply, limping off the berth and towards the vent as TC followed to opened it. = Now, stay alive. Remember our promise to each other for revenge. We will likely need each other in the end. =

Nodding, his vocals still too weak to even murmur, he closed said vent after pushing a few spare cubes in. He then sat on the berth staring at his hands, telling himself he could suffer through this pain. He had suffered so much already … what exactly could Shockwave do to him that this war hadn’t already done to him in one way or the other?

He could do this … He had to if Megatron was to fall. And if Optimus Prime couldn’t do it, Thundercracker would find someone else to make the final blow. He wished he could say he’d do it, that he would strike the titan down, but he didn’t know what condition he would be in by then … or if he would still be online at all.

                                                                                                                                                    …         

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” said Ratchet as he immediately handed Blaster a cube of heavy medical grade, pet-flesh and metal mix swirling around in the bottom. Blaster, still sitting in a chair next to Rumble’s half-sedated form, curled up his lip while looking offended. “I’ve just gotten the first set of tests from the medical berth and I can already tell you that Rumble doesn’t weigh as much as he should for his model. He should have more heavy metals in his armor which explains its dull sheen. He likely hasn’t been getting proper energon for a while regardless. So, until his armor’s density thickens, that means he will be getting medical energon until I say otherwise … and so will you since that is where he will be recharging.”

Looking aghast as he held the cube away from his body, Blaster swallowed thickly unable to ask anything except, “And what’s the good news?”

Ratchet, shrugging his shoulders as he stood there patiently waiting for him to swallow it, smiled almost deviously, “By the end of this your armor will have a nice healthy sheen. Sunstreaker or Tracks might even consider you competition for most conceited.”

Engine whining, for everyone hated medical energon even Optimus Prime, Blaster wondered if he could still worm out of this, “But won't the kid’s personal intake be acceptable? I mean, come on Hatchet, it’s medical grade energon. It’s a party killer. It goopy and sticky and tries to choke you every time on the way down.”

Giving the cassette rack an unimpressed look, Ratchet added, “You took the words right out of my intake, Blaster. It would be cruel to make Rumble drink nothing but medical energon. So, he gets a cube in the morning and then he can have a normal cube. Thus, in turn, you can have a normal cube in the morning and then have a medical cube before recharge. Now, bottoms up as the humans say.”

Blaster, wilting like a youngling, gave Ratchet one more sour look before he threw the oh-so-gross-gross-gross-all-the-way-down medical energon back. He swore Ratchet took pleasure in watching mechs choke it down. The sadist. Whatever happened to his vow to do no harm?

Making little gaggy noises in the end, the ugh-it-feels-like-its-alive-and-is-trying-to-crawl-up-your-intakes feeling as everyone liked to call it, Blaster managed to get it down. Though he sat very still for a few klicks. Every mech knew medical energon was notorious for wanting to be tasted twice.

“Are you done?” said Ratchet unimpressed as he crossed his arms over his chassis. “Pah, surrounded by sparklings. Now, you can get back up on the berth. I got the solo readings we needed and I can already tell his mild sedative is wearing off if his keening is anything to go by. Hopefully, he will calm down once he gets back into close proximity to your host spark. Then, I’d like to have a look at his spark if you don’t mind. I’ve tried to study up on hosts and half sparks while you were out, but there has been so much information lost with the war …”

The silence that followed afterward was all encompassing. It was like time had stalled and stolen all sound from the world. They had lost so much in this war … when were they ever supposed to gain anything? Only when Rumble keened loud enough to be considered a cry did Blaster react, pulled away from his inner musing. He could already tell that if he didn’t get a hold of Rumble now while the sedative still had all his limbs and mind lethargic, it was going to be a game of chase.

Crawling onto the berth while gingerly picking up the young spark, Blaster half cradled his newest charge as Ratchet came forward with a collection of tools and scanners. Ratchet then proceeded to check joints and worn platting. Rumble, unsurprisingly, twitching away every time Ratchet physically touched him or threw a scan over his form. It was like he was expecting to be hit. He stilled though whenever Blaster would rub a finger down his back and helm, telling him to be still for Ratchet.

It seemed to take forever, the young cassette’s EM field growing more and more stressed. It was like he was suddenly starting to realize where he was and who he was surrounded by … as well as what he had done. It hadn’t been a dream … He was now one of Blaster’s cassettes.

“Okay, we can finish some of these other tests another cycle,” said Ratchet, not ready for a full-blown panic attack if Rumble’s EM field was anything to go by, “But I need to look at that partial spark. It’ll be quick and then you can take him back to your habitation suite for more rest.”

Rumble, his dazed mind half frenzied, part of him still in shock that he had said yes to Blaster of all mechs, nearly came off the berth as Ratchet reached for his chest piece and the hidden latches. The only reason he probably could find it at all was because of Eject and Rewind’s builds.

“N-no, s-stop. O-only S-soundwave is allll-allowed in there,” slurred Rumble, barely able to move his glossa as he tried to push away Ratchet’s fingers.

Blaster and Ratchet both exchanged a pained look before Blaster reacted by pulsing his field in a warming way and petting the youth’s helm. “Shoo, none of that. Come now Rumble, be still for the Hatchet. Just a quick scan and it will be over.”

“And a casing check,” added the medic with a frown, hating the aghast look Blaster gave him. “Sorry, Blaster. Every mech has one done when they enter the ranks or care of the Autobots. It doesn’t have to be me, but I need it for his medical files in case there is a disfigurement or weakness in the casing or spark.”

Blaster cringed and looked down at Rumble. No bot liked a casing exam. A medic was basically holding your life force in their hands, something most mechs only would offer their creators or Conjunx Endura, but it was also the quickest and safest way to reveal any spark diseases or disfigurements. It wasn’t like they could ask Hook or some other Con for the records … If there were any official documents, given Soundwave’s paranoia.

Petting Rumble’s helm, part of him hating himself for allowing this but seeing now way around it, the red mech tried to sooth his newest charge. “And a casing check, Rumble. Ratchet’s really fast and professional. It won’t hurt.”

Holding Rumble a little more securely now that the ex-Con was trying to squirm away, he assisted Ratchet in opening the youth’s chassis. Rumble immediately blubbered and asked for Soundwave again as red light bled over Ratchet and Blaster’s chassis. Personally, the rack was surprised it was red and not blue. It was not uncommon for a mech’s color nanites to reflect their spark color. He honestly wondered if Frenzy was the same way, housing a blue spark instead of a red one.

And, speaking about a can of worms, Mirage still hadn’t reported anything on the rest of Rumble’s siblings. If they were alive and in need of a cassette rack, how exactly was Blaster to offer himself if he didn’t even know where they were? And would the rest even accept or would they all rather offline? Honestly, he didn’t really want to dwell on it. Right now, he had Rumble and that was all that mattered at this moment.

“Shh, Ratchet’s not going to hurt you. Just stay still for him, little party goer,” said Blaster again, placing a hand over Rumble’s visor while turning his helm inward so that the young spark couldn’t see Ratchet poking at his internals.

Rumble sniffled, but finally went limp as if accepting his death. Ratchet, true to his word, was always very fast. Who knew how many of these exams he did at the beginning of the war. Regardless, he did a quick overview scan, followed by carefully placing his fingers into that small chassis. Rumble stiffened as if expected his spark to be hurt or crushed, but Ratchet merely felt around the casing, throwing scan from his delicate medic hands. He frowned a few times and that honestly put Blaster on end, but when Ratchet removed his hands he didn’t immediately call for a spark support system, Blaster figured it wasn’t immediately life threatening.

“Well?” Blaster said, feeling Rumble go limp in his hands in relief. “Everything okay in there?”

Shaking his helm as if saying he’d speak to him later about it, Ratchet picked up a rag to wipe off is hands with some cleanser while addressing his patient.

“Now, there we go Rumble. See, nothing bad happened. In fact, everything is in acceptable parameters,” finally said Ratchet as he wiped off the spark casing with some disinfectant quickly before closing the little chest plate, his spark constricting as he stared at the weeping little cassette, tears having sprung into existence. Beside himself, his mind was painfully reminded how young-sparks were basically non-existent this far into the war, and he kindly ran a warm knuckle over Rumble’s cheek plating.

“Okay, how about some energon for keeping still for me? Something with sweet metals perhaps?” added Ratchet kindly, unable to look at the weeping young-spark without at least trying to sooth him. He knew he was no Rung, but he wasn’t going to just stand there and do nothing. He honestly would rather give Rumble his first dose of medical-grade, but that seemed a bit cruel and unnecessary given Rumble would likely be siphoning extra metals out of Blaster’s systems tonight anyway.

Rumble, as if realizing that everyone could see his tears, merely whined and buried his helm into Blaster’s chassis, shaking his helm. He didn’t want it even though it had been fraggen forever since he had had any type of treat-energon or metals. All he wanted to do was go back into recharge. He just wanted to spend the rest of his days in defrag, pulling up old memories so that he could dwell in them. He just wanted to be lost in the memories of better cycles where all his siblings were alive and Soundwave’s calm spark could chase away any worries.

He just wanted to sleep … and so he started plucking at the seams of Blaster’s chassis, right where the cassette rack was. He knew he was supposed to ask, but he didn’t trust his vocals to release a full out sob. He just wanted to recharge. Please. Please. Please! Just let him sleep!

Blaster, catching on to what the little transformer wanted, looked up and offered a sad smile. “I think the party is done for this cycle, Ratchet. Kid wants to go back into recharge, but I can give it to him later if you want.”

Ratchet frowned but decided not to argue. Blaster’s systems would offer energon anyway. “That should be fine. I will give you his first morning medical ration just in case he wakes up hungry though.”

Taking the sealed cube a nano-klick later, Blaster sighed, “Okay. I’ll take it, but honestly, I don’t think he’s going to come out tomorrow morning … but you’re sure there’s nothing immediately wrong with his spark. You … stalled.”

Gaze falling over the other cassettes that were still littered around his medbay like cats waiting to be tripped on, Ratchet replied softly, “We’ll discuss it tomorrow if you want. There’s … nothing we can do about it now.”

Baster couldn’t help but notice the way Ratchet glanced at Eject and Rewind specifically for a moment. It especially lingered on Eject as the small mech rubbed his chassis idly. Nonetheless, he could tell that it was a matter of privacy and so Blaster nodded and said in an exhausted manner, “Well, thanks for throwing this shindig, Hatchet. But me and my knee-high groupies are beat. Time to shut this party down and curl under the covers.”

Ratchet merely nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Out of my medbay already. Get some recharge before I trip over a cassette.”

Beside himself, Blaster laughed, glad for the medic cheeky disposition. Nonetheless, despite everything being in acceptable parameters, Blaster kept a close eye on his two bi-pedal cassettes and made a mental note to dwell on the defrag that had awoken them all. It … was just so detailed and disturbing. It didn’t feel like a bad line of code. It felt like something far more foreboding and threatening to all that they knew.

Despite himself, Blaster murmured the only words he remembered from the violent defrag out loud, “See his blood in me … the old gods come.”

Chapter Text

Thundercracker’s spark was spinning so fast he was sure it would gutter out before Shockwave even got to him. In fact, he almost jumped out of his plating when there was a knock on the door of his suite. His wings high, Thundercracker stood there for a moment, his vents sputtering, before he looked at the door strangely. Shockwave never struck him as the knocking type. So, he slowly made his way to the door.

It opened to reveal a strange, miserable looking purple mech. His paint looked chaffed and gritty like he had painted it white and then washed it off or something. Personally, TC didn’t know if he should be thankful or not that the wrong purple mech was at his door. Yes, he knew Shockwave had other mechs under him (MTOs usually), but it was still surprising that other mechs were just walking around and not strapped down to slabs screaming as the crazed scientist rearranged their innards.

Okay, now he was just being morbid. Shockwave did things for logical reasons. Logic, logic, logic. He had to remember that, but first …

“What’s wrong with your paint job?”

Whoops, wrong question. He meant to say, 'What's your designation,' but since Skywarp wasn't here to say the paint question, he automatically did. 

The miserable looking mech sighed, the glyphs on his form showing he was medical support. Though, honestly, his delicate hands gave him away as he lifted a datapad and groused, “I think you were looking for what my name is, and its Ambulon. I’m here to take you in for some preliminary tests. I also deal with after recovery of … patients.”

Thundercracker winced and couldn’t help but notice that Ambulon’s hands tightened on his datapad as well, the glass whining like it was about to shatter. Apparently, the medic knew the recovery portion personally with how twitchy he was acting.

“I-I see,” said the seeker, his wings lowering, part of him glad the large jet twins weren’t around to watch his wings shiver slightly in fear. A grounder wouldn't notice at least. “L-lets get this over with.”

Nodding, the mech stepped aside so TC could walk beside him, his voice soft, “Its good you are being complacent. Complacency is rewarded around here.”

TC’s hands became fists and despite himself, he growled, “How so? You only get tortured once a day instead of two?”

Ambulon didn’t look at him after that and neither did he reply. Instead, he lead them in to a lab room filled with stasis tanks on the wall and other unpleasant looking equipment. Thundercracker didn't really get to look around before he was instructed to sit on a berth. Despite his frantic spark, he did as he was told, only twitching under Ambulon's touch when the other Con started hooking him into the berth.

The medic's voice seeming to echo over the room, pulling TC back from his pending panic attack. “I'm just going to do some basic tests. Check you systems health and durability to make sure it can even handle the strain of being reformatted. Then, I’m going to do a spark casing check as well as check the density of your spark. Most of the test will be on your spark.”

The seeker’s wings twitched again, already cringing at the idea of another mech feeling around his spark chamber. Beside himself, he had to ask, “Why is he so focused on my spark?”

The medic, already plugging him into a spark monitor, the machine buzzing to life and showing how fast his spark was spinning, frowned at the readings for a klick before he stated, "You need to calm down. As for your question, its because the spark is what defines most host decks or, more specifically, the density of their spark. Its how they can support half sparks and also create new ones off of their own spark.”

Sitting there, confused, the seeker swallowed thickly before stating, “So … he’s going to change the density of my spark? How can that even be done? I didn’t think density could be changed.”

“It generally can’t be,” said the purple mech quietly as he checked joints and plating, completely ignoring how TC’s wings were not openly shaking. Yet, when his fingers brushed against the blue mech’s canopy in order to open his chassis, the blue mech nearly jumped off the berth.

Surprising, instead of being angry or irritated, Ambulon's tone was soft, “You need to calm down. Shockwave thinks fear is illogical. Remember, complacency. It’s okay. I’m just doing that casing check. Let’s just get you laid down. I’ll give you a mild sedative to calm your spark down as well.”

Swallowing, hands now trembling, he allowed the purple healer to help him lay down, his hands surprisingly patient for a Decepticon medic. Hook was usually rough and didn’t believe in something like sedatives. Then again, a terrified spark would probably mess with the readings. So, even though his mind was screaming for him to never lay down on a slab anywhere in the cyclops’ lair, Thundercracker slowly did. He didn’t even twitch when the medic gave him a liquid sedative, his spark floundering for a moment as it was forced to take a slower pace.

After that, everything was kind of hazy. Thundercracker couldn’t quite grasp time properly, because he rather doubted Ambulon was teleporting around the room. He also doubted that the piles of machinery quickly surrounding his medical berth were just magically appearing. There was even this wall of pretty lights that opened up, his head slowly turning as he tried to see what they were. He didn’t even get to focus when Ambulon was suddenly in front of his line of sight, gently releasing the clasps over his canopy and spark, dark blue light reflecting off of the medic’s form.

He didn’t know Ambulon was even doing a spark case check until those fingers were tweaked the cabling around his spark casing, checking for loose connection and casing cracks. TC, normally, would have come off the berth if someone had touched his spark in such a way, but the most he could do was twitch, an intelligible bark escaping him.

There was no way this was a mild sedative. No, no, way. He was down for the count and probably nearly unconscious. He barely could tell that the exam was done until the medic started … strapping him to the berth. B-but why?

“I’m sorry," mumbled Ambulon softy before he stepped away, Shockwave suddenly taking up the seeker's line of sight and speaking.

Automatically, the blue mech jolted on his berth, fear encasing his spark as the cyclops’ gun arm transformed into delicate sensors and reached into his chassis, feeling around with cold and clinical fingers.

“Is Subject 14-A properly prepped?”

“Y-yes sir?” said Ambulon, his voice shaking slightly.

“Good. Initial observation of S14A spark chamber reveals a deep blue spark in color. Spark rotation is 94 over 120. Erratic, but acceptable. No notable abnormalities upon initial examination, except that a trine bond is present. Likely hood of bond effecting experiment is less than 5%. The bond actually has a 95.3% of breaking as the spark becomes unrecognizable by the other two connections. The spark casing will likely need to be refitted and enlarged if the spark can gain density. The chassis cavity will need to be enlarged if successful. Donators already have been preselected and experiment will now begin with day-one infusion,” said Shockwave, all business as he removed the delicate looking sensor-hand. “We have two groons to finish the first infusion. We shall start now. Prepare the first specimen.”

Thundercracker, disoriented, wanted to offline his optics as even more machines started to be plugged into his systems, overwhelming him. Frag, he just wanted to scream as a stupid mask was placed over his mouth plates, feeding him gasses to keep his system calm and his glossa semi-still. There was even a denta guard in the mask so he wouldn’t bite through his glossa. Glossas were prone to rust infections once injured and Shockwave obviously didn’t want to take the chances with his newest subject.

Tugging his restraints again, horrified he watched the scientist grab a laser scalpel, Thundercracker's screams were barely muffled whines as his spark casing was literally cut into. He was in so much pain after the first session that he swore he saw flickers of spark-light in his optics … and he wondered if the sparks of those he had wronged in the war had come to greet him in the Well. He doubted it though … the Well wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

No mech was supposed to hurt like this.

This was the pit and he was obviously being punished. 

…

 “What?! Are you sure? Should … I separate Rumble from the others?” said Blaster as he leaned forward in Ratchet’s office chair, hand over his chassis where Rumble still recharged. He had felt the young mech stir about a groon ago, but the youngling merely went back into recharge. The rack didn’t know if his newest charge was merely exhausted or ignoring the outside world.

Sitting behind his desk in his private office, Ratchet waved his hand, “No, no, for Primus sake don’t separate Rumble from the others. It would likely do more harm than anything. It might even damage the cassette bond.”

Blaster winced, placing a hand on Ratchet's desk and then on his chassis again. It was something Ratchet couldn’t help but notice as a new and protective habit. He didn't want to even imagine how Blaster would act if his spark split again and they had a newspark on their hands. 

“Sorry, I overreacted, Hatchet,” said Blaster, still in shock about the news. “It’s just my little party-goers weren’t to thrilled about the extra siblin’ to begin with, Eject was downright terrified and overreacted, but something like this … I don’t know how they will respond.”

“What’s there to respond to? Its already happening if the exam I did yesterday was anything to go by. Rumble’s spark is coping with the new connections it has and, probably to increase his chances of survival, the cassette bond enabled him to replace more than his cassette bond. It's replacing his twin bond,” said Ratchet calmly, his next words soft. “Which, as I am sure you can discern, means that Frenzy is likely offline or so close to it that their sparks can no longer reach out to each other. I, personally, am leaning towards the latter. Rumble was in such bad condition when we got him, I doubt Frenzy was any better if he even survived Soundwave's death.”

Blaster frowned, part of him a little saddened by the news. It just seemed wrong to break up a set like that, even if it would have been the pit to wrangle in a pair of twins, but Fate had a mean streak and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

“So, is there anything I should be doing to …ugh … ease the situation?” said Blaster, his mind now scrambling for how to best deal with the newest development. He had never heard of adopted twin bonds, but the spark could be a curious creature when it wanted to be.

Ratchet intertwined his fingers on his desk and stared at his prized hands for a moment before simply stating, “Well, the best thing to do is to identify which of your cassettes he is attaching himself to with the twin bond. Obviously, they should be spending as much time as possible in the rack or with Rumble until the process is done. Given Rumble’s age and form, it is probably a good guess it will either be Eject or Rewind.”

Blaster almost face palmed the desk … please, please don’t be Eject. He wasn’t emotionally ready for that. Rewind might not play the same tune as Rumble, but his mature mindset would be good for Rumble.

Placing a hand over his optics, feeling a helm ache coming on, Blaster sighed, “I’ll bring them all in for a spark casing check tomorrow, Ratchet. Any other bad news you have for me today?”

The medic only smirked as he placed a cube of medical grade energon on his desk, sliding it over to the communication's officer.

“Ah, come on, Hatchet. Why are you such a party killer?” the red mech whined.

Ratchet merely laughed, “Ha, party killer. They used to call me the party ambulance I’ll have you know.”

^…

Eject rubbed his chassis again, a strange tingle rippling in his spark as he walked down the hall with Rewind. The two of them had just been released from the rack while Blaster spoke with Ratchet. He figured it was just the new cassette bond forming with Rumble that was causing the strange sensation. It wasn’t painful or unpleasant, but he still didn’t like it and at least Rumble hadn’t stirred yet today.

Though, only Eject seemed to be relieved by this. Mostly because he didn’t know how to act around their newest sibling. He was going to be strong for Rumble, like Blaster asked, especially after he saw how terrified Rumble was.

Frag … to have a defrag like that. He had only caught snippets of it and was disgusted. 

Nonetheless, the new feelings in the bond were disconcerting and, despite himself, Eject rubbed his chassis again and turned to his brother. “Is it me or does Rumble’s bond feel odd to you as well? It’s like he’s clinging to my half of the spark.”

“Clinging?” said the elder bipedal cassette, stalling to frown at the entrance of the Ark as the light seemed to shimmer in the distance. “Do you mean like a connection is forming? Like the cassette bond? Just because he is adopted into the rack doesn’t mean it will feel any different from the rest of ours. Did you expect it to? Sometimes I forget you are the youngest.”

“What, no,” defended Eject, trying not to pull his plating close in embarrassment, knowing all too well that Rewind was poking fun at his youth. “I just wanted to make sure it was forming right with you.”

His visor dimming for a moment, the elder cassette’s tone was somewhat worried, “It is strengthening as it should even with Rumble in constant recharge. Why? Does it feel wrong to you? Is this clinging feeling loose like he’s searching for you but can’t get a grasp on you? Or is it more like you can’t feel him right?’

It was more like the exact opposite. It was like it was too strong. He even felt himself become terrified or depressed for no reason, and Eject didn’t like it. Frag, had he fucked up the cassette bond by waiting too long?

“Eject?” asked Rewind carefully, noticing that his sibling was now rubbing at his chassis roughly.

He was about to come forward and stall his sibling’s hands when the shimmer appeared just outside the Ark. A nano-klick later both cassettes turned their heads as a white and blue racecar exploded into existence, Mirage transforming at the entrance and shocking Cliffjumper who was guarding the entrance.

Mirage didn't even note Cliffjumper's curses as he walked inside. Rewind and Eject, on the other hand, immediately stiffened. So … Mirage was finally back with news. Shortly after Rumble had been found and Blaster explained half sparks, the spy had been sent off to infiltrate the Nemesis and see if there were any other survivors in the wake of Soundwave’s death. If there were any survivors, he was instructed to get a message to them that they would be given the same options as Rumble … if they defected.

Given his lax gait as he entered into the Ark, Rewind had a feeling that Rumble was going to be alone for this new step in his life. Nonetheless, the older cassette stepped forward and asked caustiously, “Do you bring news, Mirage … from the Nemisis?”

Stalling, the tower-mech nodded carefully, professionally stating, “I do. I am currently on my way to debrief Jazz on the matter. Now, if you excuse me, Eject, Rewind, I must be going.”

And that was all he said, leaving the two cassettes feeling small and ill-informed at the Ark’s entrance.

“Well … at least he came back,” said Eject as he tried to fill the silence, “But … wasn’t he supposed to see if any of Rumble’s siblings were still online? He didn’t seem rushed or worried. Does that mean -”

“It means he came back empty handed, Eject. Sometimes what isn’t said speaks more volumes than what is,” said his elder cassette simply, the two half-sparks now standing in the cool air before the Ark’s entrance, the wind flittering in like a cool whisper.

Staring at his feet, Eject’s hands became fists as he watched a few sparse leaves blow into the entrance, settling around their feet and in upswept corners. He could have sworn that summer had just started and that it was going to last forever, but already the leaves were falling from the trees. It was a sign of the season's change. If it would be bad or good change … he couldn’t say.

All he knew was that his spark was conflicted and it ached something horrible.