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Chapter Text

Earth--6000 years, D.W. (during war)

The recorded memories played before her, forming the faces of ghosts long since perished. A small protoform rolled into view, its frame colorless. Only the tiny cockpit on its chest and wing-nubs on its back marked it as a flight frame. It stared up with orange optics that were too big for its head, wiggling its knobby limbs when it spotted her. She reached down a finger for it to grab but was instead met with tiny teeth clamping down around the digits. Elita watched as her hands reached down and scooped the sparkling protoform up.

  Shortly after she had gotten fired from her position as a major in the Cybertronian army due to her fraternization with known rebels, she had begun to miss the thrill that commanding brought her. From what she knew, raising a sparkling didn’t seem to be too different from leading an army, at least from an intelligence stand point, so she had applied to be a mentor.

The protoform in the video leaned forward to try and bite one of the servos holding it, causing Orion to laugh from off camera.

Elita wouldn’t have done this if she knew the coming war would be as bad as it was. Especially if she knew how big a role she would play in it.

The sound of blaring alarms broke through her thoughts. Elita quickly ended the recording and ran out of her chamber to where the troops were gathering. There was certainly one thing she had been right about. Leading an army was a lot like raising a whiny protoform.

Elita made her way to the front of the crowd and took her place next to Optimus Prime as his second in command. She shook her head to clear the tired fog of grief that had settled over her processor. It was times like these that she looked forward to battle the most. There was nothing like defeating an army of Decepticons to get your mind off of internal pain.

The battle was just as chaotic as she had imagined.

Elita set her sights on where two combaticons were scrambling to gather up as much energon as they could carry. She ran toward them, transforming halfway there, and barreled into them. She transformed back into her bipedal mode shortly before coming to a stop.

The car scanned the battlefield for her leader, and finally spotted him fighting his mortal enemy in a part of the mine that sloped down into a ring of rocks, similar to the gladiatorial pits in Kaon. Optimus swung his axe at Megatron’s helm, but the warlord’s reaction was apace. While the Prime was distracted with his miss, Megatron slammed his fist into his former comrade, sending him flying across the makeshift arena.

The warlord continued to advance on her leader and conjunx, an odious grin cutting a crescent across his face. Optimus rose up to meet the challenge, but it was clear that he had taken some hits before she had spotted him. Her Prime would survive, of course, but he wouldn’t win the way he was currently fighting.

A small distance away, Starscream was hovering just above the arena, watching the fracas from the shadows with a calculating look in his orange optics. Perfect.    

 
She leapt from her position, twisting in the air with well-practiced precision and landing a swift and heavy blow to the side of his helm, knocking him to the ground.Elita put all her weight on the pede that she pressed against Starscream’s chest, sending small cracks across the glass of his cockpit. She pressed her blaster against the Seeker’s helm, tilting the weapon so that Megatron could see the settings were set to kill.

“Hey!” she shouted.

Both Optimus and Megatron turned in her direction, momentarily pausing their tussle.  

Elita scowled at the warlord, the muzzle of her blaster pressing harder against his second’s helm. “Let him go,” she demanded. “Or I pull the trigger.”

The expression on Megatron’s facial plates shifted from the pure, unfiltered hatred he normally wore into a look of boredom and mild annoyance. “You won’t.”

“Try me.”

Starscream struggled beneath her, casting a pleading look at his leader. Megatron allowed a small smirk to grace his facial plates. “Oh, Elita-One,” he said, mockingly. “I know that even you wouldn’t harm your own sparkling.” 

Chapter Text

Cybertron--2 Stellar Cycles, D.W.

Megatron made his way through the rubble. Optimus would regret abandoning him when he saw the destroyed home of him and his conjunx. He grinned when he thought of the heartbroken face his former friend would make when he saw the destruction.

The warlord chuckled to himself as the beautiful image of the Autobot leader groveling before him formed in his mind. It could only have been made better if Elita had been inside the residence when the bombs had dropped. “I should have surrendered to you!” he would cry. “You were right all along! I renounce the Primacy!”

Megatron stiffened when his musings were interrupted by the unpleasant sound of a discontented sparkling. He cautiously moved through the debris, moving aside burned furniture and chunks of wall and ceiling as he drew closer to the sounds of the screeching sparkling. Megatron eventually came across an upturned crib, with a tiny protoform tearing at the bars that kept it contained in between bouts of screaming.

He threw the crib and swiftly scooped up the sparkling before it could escape. It had gone limp when he had first grabbed it, but after a few klicks it had begun to squirm.

Megatron frowned at the little creature that had somehow managed to survive an attack that would have killed a fully-grown mech, let alone something so small that he could hold it with only one servo. The sparkling stared up at him with large, orange eyes and a disapproving frown on its face that mimicked his own. At least it had stopped screeching.

The large grey tyrant lowered a digit to poke at the little thing but was stopped when the sparkling bit down hard with its tiny fangs. Megatron furiously swung his servo, trying desperately to shake the little monster off, but it held on with the grip of the Unmaker.

Eventually, Megatron gave up and just dangled the newspark in front of his optics so he could examine it. A minute cockpit poked out at the chest, and when he turned it around, two mini wing nubs stuck out of its back. A jet.

The tyrant shook his servo once again, this time causing the sparkling to slip off and into where his servo was waiting. Elita’s sparkling– for he could not determine who else this beast could belong to based on the smirk it was giving him– was in his clutches. It would make an excellent bargaining chip.

The sparkling yawned, revealing its little fangs, before using its needlike claws to crawl out of his servo and onto his shoulder, where, for whatever reason it had decided, was where it curled up to sleep.

Megatron smirked to himself. Or the perfect weapon.

The warlord picked up a servofull of scrap metal and crushed it into a shape that vaguely resembled a newspark and tossed it over toward where he had thrown the crib before blasting it with his fusion cannon, leaving nothing but sparkling-shaped scrap that had been burned beyond recognition.

Megatron reached up and scratched the sleeping jet between the wings, eliciting a light purr. “Welcome to the Decepticons, Starscream.”

Chapter Text

Cybertron–-2 stellar cycles, D.W. 

Megatron entered the Decepticon base’s mess hall, scanning the room for Skywarp. The sparkling was still asleep, although it had woken up briefly to move from his shoulder to the top of his helm. He assumed it had something to do with aerial frames wanting to be closer to the sky, but he didn’t exactly trust the functionist texts of Tarn’s library to tell him.

Finally, the tank spotted the black and purple wings of his most loyal Seeker, who was gloating to a group of constructicons over a card game in the far corner of the room. He had briefly considered making Skywarp air commander, but had dismissed the idea after a single conversation with her. He had given the position to Slipstream instead.

“Skywarp!” he barked.

Her dark helm shot up at the sound of her designation and skipped the short walk in favor of warping at his feet, saluting at the ready. However, any professionalism was immediately discarded when she spotted the little menace that her leader had brought with him. She opened her black-painted intake to say something but slowly closed it again when she noticed his glare.

Megatron grabbed her arm and yanked her into the hall, practically dragging her to his throne room. Once the door closed behind them, Skywarp tossed aside any thoughts of caution.

“Is that a sparkling?” 

“Yes,” Megatron answered, picking the little jet off of his head, causing it to make a little squeak as he gripped its wings between two fingers. Starscream squeaked again when he dropped it into Skywarp’s open servos.

“Where did you find him?” the Seeker asked as she started poking the very unamused new spark.

“This,” he began. “Is the sparkling of a high ranking Autobot.”

Skywarp looked up at him in silence for a moment. “Soooooo. . . you want me to kill it?”

Megatron glared. “No. I want you to care for it.”

Figuring out what to do with sparkling once he had it had taken serious consideration. He had initially considered Soundwave, but his communications officer already had to deal with however many cassettes on top of his duties as a member of the high command. Skywarp, meanwhile, was loyal enough that she wouldn’t reveal Starscream’s heritage on purpose and–if she let something slip on accident–foolish enough that no one would believe her. There was also the bonus that Skywarp was a Seeker, and would be able to teach it things that a grounder wouldn’t be able to. Not that he wanted the sparkling to learn much, it would certainly be preferable if the little beast grew to be stupid and compliant. Another thing Skywarp was more than adept at.

“I need you to keep the origin of this sparkling an absolute secret. Other than that I expect you to nurture it into a weapon we can use against them in the future.”

Skywap looked down at Starscream with a skeptical look in her optics. Megatron scowled when he saw its optics widen when it spotted her wings. Dreadful thing; already imitating the false innocence of its mentor’s conjunx.

“So, I just tell everyone that I have a protege, now? That the plan?”

Megatron casted one last scowl as it started to chew on Skywarp’s servo, never taking its eyes off of her wings.

“I don’t care what you say, as long as you keep him alive and loyal.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Skywarp abruptly turned heel and ran out of the room as fast as she could. “TC! Slippy! Lord Megatron gave me a baby!”

Megatron sighed and turned his back to the door. At least he could take comfort in the knowledge that he would soon have a loyal warrior he could shove in Optimus and Elita’s faces.  

Chapter Text

Cybertron–5 months, A. W. (after war)

There was finally peace on Cybertron. After a millennia of civil war, they could all finally begin rebuilding, servo in servo. 

Megatron and Soundwave sat across from Optimus and Elita at a large transparent table. The pink and orange car watched carefully as a large grey servo signed the final document that would officially disband the Decepticons. No more factions. No more fighting.

The Prime and the former faction leader stood up from their seats and shook servos from across the table.

“It is good to have you back, old friend,” the truck said, a smile stretching out beneath his mask.

“The same to you,” the tank responded.

Elita abruptly stood up and turned towards her conjunx. “The war has ended, and nothing can restart it.”

Optimus looked at her and nodded. “Nothing at all.”

“Good.” Elita turned from him and stalked over to Megatron before lifting her fist and slamming it into his facial plates.

The room became deathly quiet as it was filled with the crash of metal on metal. Megatron stumbled back, caught off guard by the intensity of the blow. He caught himself on a chair and brought a hand up to rub his jaw, where Elita had left a sizable dent. The large grey robot looked up and glared at her.

“What,” he began, slowly. “Provoked that?”

Elita clenched her fists again and had to restrain herself from hitting him again. There were many things she was still angry with him for. Maybe Optimus could forgive thousands of years of war so easily, but she couldn’t. Friends had fallen to this grey moron’s pride fueled tantrum. Friends who she had considered family.

Then there were the other things she couldn’t quite articulate. The rage of a mentor who missed so many key moments in a protege’s development. She would never experience the joy of his first flight. Never get the delight of passing on her well-earned knowledge. Would never get to tease him through a first crush. If he was interested in romance. She didn’t know. That was part of the problem.

She looked at the former tyrant and examined his wicked form. “Starscream,” she answered.

Realization dawned on Megatron’s face. “Ah,” he said, cringing. “Not my best moment.”

“Not your best– he was sparkling!” She shouted, landing another harsh blow on the warlord’s chassis. “And you took him from his mentor!”

“I raised him to the best of my ability,” he argued. “Arguably I taught him more than you ever could have.”

Optimus Prime attempted to step between them, but Elita pushed him back behind her.  “Teach him what? Evil 101?”

Megatron frowned and looked over at Soundwave, who was already halfway to the door.

“I had Skywarp train him in the works and battle maneuvers of the finest warriors of Kaon.”

“You had Skywarp teach him?!”

“Yes!” he snapped. “He was trained to have battle prowess equal to your own. That, plus Shockwave’s experiments should have made him a perfect warrior. The fact that he couldn’t utilize these abilities is entirely his own fault.”

Elita stiffened, the anger in her veins reaching a burning cold. “Shockwave’s what?”

A look of regret mixed with fear slowly took over Megatron’s face. Soundwave gave up on being subtle and just turned around and left.

Elita lunged at Megatron but was held back last minute by Optimus capturing her in a tight hug. She kicked and thrashed in his grip while shouting expletives.

“I can see the family resemblance.”

“D,” Optimus sighed. “Please leave.”

==========================

Solar Cycles later

“This way, Commander.”

Elita One followed the guard into the dark tunnel underneath Iacon’s prison. The ‘Pit Cells’, as Bumblebee had called them, was where they kept their highest security prisoners. While most had celebrated the end of the war, there had been a select number who had tried to continue the conflict. Some troublemakers had been expected, but when those protests came from high profile Decepticons it would take more than a night in the overcharge garage to keep the peace.

The shadows that surrounded her faded into a sickly green light as she approached the cell block. Helms turned when they heard the approaching pedesteps. Some shouted at her once they realised who she was. Some simply glared. A towering figure, that she recognized as Helex, threw himself at the glowing barrier before jerking back with a hiss that Elita could only assume was due to some kind of electric shock. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t proud to have been the one to bring him in.

The guard finally slowed to a stop at one of the cells near the end of the hall. “Don’t cross the line,” she said, pointing to the yellow stripe at their feet. “I will be back in fifteen minutes, but you can call for help over the comm channels if you need to.”

Elita nodded and the guard performed a deep and unnecessary bow before starting to walk away, only pausing after a few steps. “I am a big admirer of your work, Commander. You have done so much for Cybertron.”

Elita stayed silent as she watched the guard walk away. Part of the arrangement for the appointment had been that there would be no guards within earshot of the conversation. She had worried that it seemed like too suspicious a request, but being denied entry would be easier to deal with than some gossipy warden spreading rumours about how the Prime’s conjunx had a Decepticon sparkling.

“You have done so much for Cybertron,” a high-pitched voice pilleried its captor. “Primus, I would pay to see Strongarm face off against Skywarp in a suckup contest.”

Elita sighed and turned toward the reason for her visit. “Starscream,” she greeted. “I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Unlike some of the prisoners she had seen, Starscream seemed to have annoyed the wardens into allowing him a small bottle of polish, which rested along with a neatly folded green shammy on top of a short stack of datapads that he was most certainly not allowed to have.

Starscream smirked at her from where he was perched on the berth. “Why, thank you for noticing.”

The Autobot took a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, I know you may not see me this way, but I am your mentor and creator. Despite everything you’ve done, I still want to know you.”

The Seeker’s smirk shifted into a scowl as she talked. “Oh, so now you want to ‘know me’. Was 6000 years not enough time for you? Oh, right, you weren’t there. My mistake.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“And when you discovered I wasn’t?” Starscream removed himself from the berth and stalked over to the glowing green barrier, folding his arms behind his back. “Earth solar-cycles of you avoiding me after Mas– Megatron revealed his little secret.”

The jet’s expression of rage shifted into a cold smile. “But you know what? I don’t care. I’ve killed so many of your troops and would proudly do so again. So, fine. Bring your mnemosurgeons and tinker me however you wish, but know this,” Starscream slammed his servos against the barrier, causing him to shriek and stumble backwards. There was a moment where the jet just stood there, clutching his smoking servo. A moment that was interrupted when he looked up to glare at the energon-colored car. “Just fragging go,” he snapped.

And without another word, she did. 

Chapter Text

Cybertron----6 months A. W. 

Elita settled into her seat across from Skywarp at Blurr’s new bar.

“Good to see you, ‘Lita.”

The pink car raised an optic ridge. “Is it?”

The purple Seeker grinned manically in response. “Not really.”

Skywarp ran a jagged black talon along the lip of her cube. “So, what did you want to talk about? Have some new hot gossip you want to dish?”

Elita sighed and contemplated leaving. “I was informed that you raised Starscream.”

The jet’s optics widened. “Oooohhhh. He was your scraplet.” Skywarp planted her servos on the table as her grin grew wider. “So, what you wanna know? Because I’ve got some fun stories. There was this one time that me and Meggs caught him snogging a foot soldier in a supply closet. Ol’ Screamer never even looked at anyone after Megatron was through with them! Well, unless you count the time he started trailing after that thawed-out shuttle like a lovesick puppy, but you know how that turned out. Ooh! And there was the first time he ever tortured an Autobot prisoner! It—”

“First word!” Elita blurted. “What. Was. His. First. Word.”

“Oh,” Skywarp said, sounding disappointed. “It was something dumb he picked up from. . . I don’t know, maybe he heard it from the troops? I think it was deposition? Yeah. His first word was deposition.” 

Elita could only stare at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Deposition.”

“Yep,” the purple jet responded, popping the ‘p’. “Come to think of it, he might have learned the word from one of Megatron’s poetry readings.”

She narrowed her optics. “Megatron read him poetry?”

Skywarp snorted. “Oh, Pit no. Whenever I had a job to do, or wanted to go to a highgrade party, I would just stick him in front of some old recordings I had lying around.”

“You left a sparkling alone?”

Skywarp nodded. “Uh, yeah. You can’t take a sparkling to a highgrade party. Duh.”

Elita abruptly stood up. “Thank you, Skywarp. This was all very enlightening, but I’m afraid I have to go now.”

The Seeker gave her a mock salute. “Anytime, ‘Lita.”

The SIC quickly removed herself from the establishment before she could start a bar fight.  

Chapter Text

Cybertron— 6 months A. W.

Elita released a frustrated sigh into her cube of engex. She really should stop pursuing this. She had other duties to attend to in the effort to rebuild Cybertron. Starscream was a grown bot who was capable of, and had, made his own decisions. And yet that miserable string that tied them together kept insisting on shrinking.

After the bombing, she had spent night after night begging and praying to Primus that he would bring her little Ulchtar back.   

Optimus placed his hand on her shoulder and rubbed circles into the plating. “Are you okay?”

“No. I just. . . why do things have to be so complicated?”

“If I knew, I would fix it for you.”

She shook her helm. “I shouldn’t have assumed he wouldn’t find my home. I shouldn’t have left that day. I could have protected him!”

Optimus knelt beside her. “Or you could have died in the blast. Or you could have been captured. We have no way of knowing.” He caressed her face. “I don’t think I could have gone on if anything had happened to you. I love you more than you could ever know.”

Elita embraced her conjunx and they stayed that way for another hour.

Earth— 6000 years D. W. 

Skyfire awkwardly examined the science equipment, anxiously trying not to think about the thousands of joors he had missed. The room was too small for the shuttle, so he had to hunch if he wanted to move. Technically, he hadn’t been assigned to work here, but after asking around, a blue armoured truck had pointed him in the right direction.

Unfortunately, most of the equipment was worse than he had imagined. The datapads, although neatly organized, were all cracked and in need of a good cleaning. There were drawers of engineering supplies, but it almost looked like a vast majority of it had been acquired from the bodies of deactivated bots. In the corner there was a diagonal birth that was adorned with heavy restraints. Skyfire didn’t want to even wonder what that was for. The same applied to the collection of green and purple energon as well as the well-organized tray of mnemosurgery tools.

The shuttle stiffened when he heard the sound of the lab doors opening. He turned around to see a red and white jet bitterly enter the room, his orange optics widening in surprise when he spotted the other occupant.

“Uh, hi,” he said, waving his big white hand. “My name is Skyfire.”  

Skyfire extended his arm for a handshake, but the Seeker grabbed the limb instead and tapped his talons against it. “Am I correct for assuming that you’re very strong?”

Skyfire stared at him. “Uh, yes?”

The jet grinned in a manner that reminded Skyfire of a villain in a cheesy holofilm. “So you would easily be able to crush your enemies with a single servo.”
The shuttle quickly tugged his servo away. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

The smaller of the two frowned. “But it’s exciting! Everyone’s a warrior in some capacity.”

“And who are you to decide that?”

The Seeker puffed out his chest and perked his wings up at attention. “Commander Starscream, Second-In-Command of the Decepticons.” He looked up at the newcomer as if expecting him to be impressed, and deflated when he realised he wasn’t.

“What are you even doing here?” he grumbled.

“I’m a scientist,” Skyfire responded, already preparing himself for the disbelief he would surely be faced with.

Instead, Starscream’s annoyed expression shifted to one of interest. “An actual scientist? Not a ‘let’s raise the dead and see what happens’ scientist, but someone who studies the movements of the universe?”

Skyfire shifted on his feet. “I—yes? I’m a xeno-biologist, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you much about physics or astronomy or. . .” He trailed off when he noticed that the Seeker had gotten closer and was staring up at him with wide optics. “Are you alright?”

“Teach me,” Starscream demanded.

“What?”

“Teach me everything you know.”

The shuttle took a step back. “Shouldn’t you be able to learn on your own?”

Starscream scoffed. “Skywarp always said she got on fine without it and Megatron said it would be ‘detrimental to my development’.” 

Skyfire took a moment to process the words that were spoken as if they described someone spilling energon and refusing to apologize for it. There were many questions he wanted to ask, but he settled for asking if Starscream had any education, to which the answer was a mix of battle strategy, political science and Kaonite poetry.

The shuttle sucked air into his intake and held it for a few moments before releasing. “Okay, no one deserves to be kept from knowledge and you’re really pathetic, so I will teach you as much as I can.”

Starscream glared at him. “I’ll remind you that I could destroy you.”

“You are less than half my size.”

The jet opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced by the arrival of a purple robot who had suffered the empurata treatment. Skyfire desperately tried to keep any surprise or obvious pity off of his facial plates in a desperate attempt to not be rude.

“Ah, Starscream,” the bot greeted. “I see you are here early.” He turned toward the shuttle. “Our new recruit, I presume. I’m afraid I must request that you leave. The commander and I have an important meeting.”

Skyfire awkwardly waved goodbye to his new. . . friend? Unfortunately, Starscream seemed to already have started disassociating from whatever he and the purple bot were about to discuss, so he resigned himself to awkwardly squeezing himself out of the room.    
 

Chapter Text

The Nemesis— Three stellar cycles D.W.

It had been remarkably easy to give Skywarp the slip. Starscream suspected it was always easy because the purple bot had absolutely no interest in raising a sparkling. Although, if that was the case, why would she be caring for him? He assumed she had been more attentive when he was younger based on vague memories of someone giving him a stern look while tenderly holding him close to her spark.

Even with his guardian’s negligence, it was always a difficult task to sneak away when you couldn’t walk very much. Starscream had managed to take a few steps the other day, but he had discovered after he had face-planted in front of Thundercracker and Slipstream that it was not an effective way to move around. However, he had been transforming for about a stellar cycle now even if he wasn’t anywhere near fully grown yet, so he could still easily be held in his guardian’s hands. He hadn’t quite learned how to fly yet, as Skywarp kept forgetting to teach him, but there were wheels at the bottom of his alt-mode and he knew how to use them well enough.

So, here he was, slowly rolling through the halls of his home on tiny landing wheels. 

He had been strictly confined to the Air Force quarters by order of Lord Megatron until he ‘came of age’. Starscream had never met his leader, but he knew from what Skywarp had said one of the times she came back to their room with poor coordination and slurred words, that his lord had a vested interest in him. A fact that made him swell with pride.

Starscream peeked around a corner and continued to roll down the hall once he concluded that the coast was clear. He didn’t exactly have a plan for where he was going or what he would do once he got there. He was just bored. There were no other sparklings on the ship, so he was often left alone with recordings of their glorious leader. 

Maybe he could try and find the one-opticed bot. Starscream was brought to him occasionally for ‘experiments’ and while he didn’t exactly enjoy those visits since the one-opticed bot kept looking at him like how Skywarp looked at vermin before she stomped on them, but he was also given an energon goodie after each appointment and he always got a good nap in, so there was some benefit to them. Even if those naps had started to be filled with dreams of a strange green bot.

Unfortunately, Starscream had been so lost in thought that he couldn’t stop himself in time to avoid a large grey pede. He attempted to reroute himself but only succeeded in bumping into the mech’s other pede. Two large hands reached down and plucked the little jet up into the air. 

He aggressively wiggled in protest. Who did this bot think he was? No one could contain him!

Starscream finally stopped his struggling when his optics landed on the mech’s faceplates. Lord Megatron. Starscream released an apologetic chirp before shifting back into his bipedal mode.

He looked up at Lord Megatron with hopeful optics. I can transform! Are you impressed?

His leader’s eyes looked over his frame and Starscream realised with a start that while his illustrious leader had probably seen him when Skywarp had asked for approval to keep him on the ship, his Lord had not seen him since his colours started to come in. Starscream chirped again and stretched out his wings to display them. Do you like the colours? Skywarp says pink is a fierce colour! Am I fierce?

A scowl crossed his leader’s face and Starscream felt his spark sink. Did he do something wrong?

“Transform again!” his leader demanded. Starscream obeyed, desperate to right whatever wrong he had committed. Maybe he hadn’t noticed the colours before and just wanted to see how they looked on his alt-mode?

Lord Megatron flipped him over and grabbed one of his landing wheels between two fingers. Before the tiny jet could begin to wonder what was going on, a searing burst of pain screamed through his frame. This was followed by another burst of pain that almost drowned out the first. Starscream did as his name implied and shrieked loud enough to be heard across the whole ship.

“Get it a re-paint.”

He vaguely felt his now wheelless form being dropped into another pair of servos and being carried away. He even halfway remembered Thundercracker’s attempts to calm him while cleaning up spilled energon. 

Pink energon.

He was no longer pink. All the parts of him that had been pink were painted over with red and black.

17 Stellar Cycles Later. . .

Starscream stared down at his pedes as shame crept up his spinal strut. 

“Do you mind explaining what exactly you two were doing in that supply closet?” Megatron asked, his deep voice filling the large room.

Octane cleared his vocalizer. “I was simply helping Starscream retrieve some cleaning supplies after he spilled some energon, my Lord.” 

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “And why would said cleaning supplies be in his intake, pray tell?” 

The purple triple changer awkwardly laughed. “Well, you see, when I found the cleaning supplies I threw it over to Screamer while he was talking, you know how he loves to talk, and—”

“You will get off with no repercussions if you speak the truth.”

“We were making out.”

Starscream looked over at his friend with a look of shocked betrayal on his face. He knew he wasn’t exactly anyone's first choice for a copping off session, but he had thought that Octane was his friend. They truly had been looking for cleaning supplies, although it was Octane who had spilled highgrade on the jet after they had both gotten a little tipsy. Starscream had been scanning the shelves when the closet door had closed behind him, and he’d felt the triple changer put his hands on his hips and begin nibbling his neck cords.

Megatron sighed. “You are dismissed, Octane.”

The soldier saluted the gun before running off, leaving his fellow accused behind. Starscream watched him run away, after a moment bringing his helm back down to look at his pedes.  

“You want to make your way into high command, don’t you?” Megatron asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then there are certain things you need to give up. Love is a weakness, Starscream. Whether your feelings for that piece of scrap are romantic or platonic, banish them before they become a problem.” 

Starscream continued to stare down at the floor, weighing his options. If he was smart about how he phrased his apology he could shift the blame off of himself and onto the highgrade without appearing irresponsible. Then again, his apology could be seen as an argument, which his esteemed leader would not take kindly to.

“Come here,” Megatron commanded. 

Starscream obeyed and took his place at the bottom step of his master’s throne. 

“At my pedes,” the warlord added, impatience tumbling through his voice like a flood.

Starscream did as he was told, climbing the twenty step distance to the top, and quickly offlined his optics as Megatron grabbed him by his already sore neck and threw him down to the bottom of the climb. The Seeker groaned and attempted to force himself to his feet, but by the time he had managed to do so, Megatron had transformed into his alt-mode and had placed himself in his servant’s hands.

<I never liked that scheming fool.> the grey bot confessed. <How would you like to partake in some target practice?>     

Cybertron—6 months A. W.

Starscream laid on his front, lazily swinging his pedes in the air and silently reading from one of his datapads. The three that he had left in the little stack were nothing more than two collections of hymns to Primus and a book of poetry that preached endless peace crammed in between sonnets about the glory of the Primacy. Despite the dirt he had been able to gather on his guards, it was clear that the ‘literature’ he had been allowed had gone through several levels of security.

 
The datapad he was currently reading was a scrappy action story filled with too many explosions and functionist propaganda. Pit, the only jet in the story was an imbecilic henchbot who relished following orders and lived to be owned by the higher caste. She was also hopelessly in love with the enforcer protagonist, but everyone in this dumb story appeared to be.

As far as Starscream was aware, no one knew about his. . . origins. But someone had caught wind of him being taken in by the Decepticons as a sparkling, so he had gotten several comments from the guards about how his ‘re-programming’ was coming along.”

A loud knock sounded at the entrance to his cell, causing him to snap his helm up in surprise. A scowl formed on his face when he saw who had come to visit him.

“Starscream,” Megatron said in way of greeting.

The Seeker tossed the datapad to the side. “What do you want?”

“I would have thought you would revel in the end of war. Yet here you are.”

Rage built in Starscream’s core. “You don’t get to make judgements about what I am!”

The gun scoffed. “Please, I practically raised you. I know you better than you know yourself. I know that you will eventually realise that your status as a child of war garners sympathy, which you will manipulate so you are let go. My only request is that when you do, you treat your Mentor with respect.”

Starscream’s gaze turned cold. “I’ll kill you.”

Megatron rolled his optics. “Where have I heard that before?” The former warlord paused as the jet looked away. “This was a mistake.”

Starscream curled into himself, trying to regulate his vents as the larger bot walked away. 

Chapter Text

Cybertron—1 Stellar cycle D.W. 

Elita scowled at the ground. There had been acts of uprising for about a stellar cycle now by reasonably angry bots. She sympathized with their plight and tried to get them fair trials at the least, if not full on freedom. Now, here she was, fired and missing being responsible for something so much that she had actually applied to be a mentor. Not only applied, but she guessed she now was a mentor since she had sent her CNA in for Vector Sigma to make a spark. The act had surprised even herself, but how different could training a sparkling be to training an army?

She distinctly remembered every detail of the day she had been ‘let go’. Darkwing had called her into his office, his stupid medals and trophies displayed on every surface. She had always known he didn’t like her. Darkwing was loyal to Sentinel and the caste system that accompanied it, despite him being a slave to it as well. She was informed that due to her ‘fraternization’ with Orion Pax, who was a colleague of the rebellion’s leader, she would be stripped of her title and position. To make sure her complaints weren’t taken seriously by the general public, she would be branded a traitor and forbidden from any military jobs.

Eita stood up as a white and orange bot approached her. “Elita One,” she greeted, bowing her head. “We apologize for the wait, but there was a problem in the transfer process. The spark had finished forming, like we told you, but before we could transfer it the body broke, meaning we had to put it into the nearest available frame.”

She frowned. “Is it alright?”

The bot paused, nervously wringing her hands. “The nearest frame was a flight frame. Small, no outliers, and built for speed and covert operations instead of direct combat. We can make you another spark, but we’ll need more CNA. We promise to compensate you for the prolonged wait.”

Elita ground her denta together. “And what if I want them?”

The bot’s optics widened. “I– do you?”

“Of course! They’re mine, aren’t they?” 

“But– yes. It is,” the bot said, stumbling over her words. “Would you like me to get it for you?” 

The car gave a harsh nod in response and the orange and white bot ran off to fetch the sparkling.

Elita released an exacerbated sigh as she sat back down. The blatant functionism of some mechs. She herself could not remember her mentor. She knew she had one, but as far as she was aware, he had died when she was still very young, leaving her to be a ward of the primacy and trained for military action as soon as she could walk. The only thing she knew was that Sentinel Prime hadn’t been fond of him based on a few comments from Darkwing. While the implied animosity between them wasn’t ideal, it did betray the fact that her mentor had been important enough to know the Prime personally. 

It wasn’t long before her sparkling was brought before her. He was exactly as the bot from before had described. Small, and while he had not grown into his frame, as aerodynamic as a chubby newspark could be. Orange optics looked up at her with the feeling of curiosity, but no actual thoughts circling in his processor. 

Elita smiled. “Hello, Ulchtar. Are you excited to learn?” 

Earth—6000 years D. W. 

Starscream watched from the shadowy corner he had tucked himself away in. He had searched the throne room for blind spots on one of the many instances where he couldn’t get himself to recharge. The jet observed in silence as his master was brought a cube of fine energon on a silver platter.  

Megatron raised his morning energon to his lipplates, but paused, narrowing his optics. He held the cube away from himself and towards where Soundwave stood diligently off to the side. The cassette player scanned it and his visor flashed a bright red. Megatron brought the energon back up to his faceplate momentarily, as if to drink it, but instead he violently threw it at the Seeker’s pedes, causing it to shatter into a flurry of shards of wasted fuel. 

“Poison,” he said, smiling. “You’re getting creative.”

Starscream eased himself out of the shadows, a sly smirk quickly covering his disappointed expression. “Would you expect anything less of me?”

The mad tyrant gestured for the Seeker to come closer, and he obeyed, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne. Frustration burned in his spark as he was forced to kneel. 

“You’re finally in the position you oh so coveted, second only to myself, and this is how you choose to spend your time?”

Starscream curled his talons into fists. “You don’t respect me.”

“Oh?” Megatron asked, the amusement in his voice obvious. “You are my second, the youngest in our ranks. I still remember the time you were a little sparkling who couldn’t feed himself. Yet, here you are. And you think I don’t respect you?”

“But you don’t let me do anything!” he exclaimed. “All my ideas get shot down, you never let me lead my own missions, and whenever we’re in battle with the Autobot high command you don’t even let me kill my own way! A quick shot to the spark would be efficient, but you always order me to rip the mech’s helm off with my teeth like some kind of wild animal!”

Megatron frowned and shot a look in Soundwave’s direction. The blue bot nodded in confirmation. The warlord stood up from his throne and began his walk down the stairs. Starscream fell onto his back in his hurried effort to get away. He managed to push himself back to his pedes, but some of his paint was scratched off in the process. Megatron scowled at the bright color. “Pathetic.”

Starscream opened his mouth to retort, but was stopped by a purple servo covering his intake. 

Megatron’s scowl turned into a smile. “Ah, Shockwave. Just in time. He’s asking questions again.” 

Starscream frowned beneath the scientist’s hand. Again? It was at that moment that the jet realized that he hadn’t even thought about attempting to struggle. Why would you? An oily voice asked. 

“Of course, my lord. Are there any additional alterations you want me to make while he’s under?”

Megatron tilted his head, contemplating. “Make him enjoy the more unorthodox killing methods. He was complaining about them.”

Shockwave bowed his helm. “I swear it shall be done, my liege.”