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sirtrashfire · 2 years ago

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Shattered Prime

A shattered glass / transformers prime fic made in collaboration with @paxspassages

Basic Premise of prologue: A ground bridge malfunction connects two universes TFP, and sgTFP, causing Ratchet and Senator to end up universe-swapped.

Prologue: The Malfunction

The ground bridge had been unoperational for hours now, and Ratchet could tell Wheeljack was getting impatient to leave, after all, he never stayed very long.

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet caught the attention of the fidgety bot, “do you see the lever to activate the ground bridge?”

“Yes.” Ratchet could hear Wheeljack move toward the control panel.

“You need to push the button to the right of it in order to reset the bridge.” Ratchet said, connecting some final wires.

“Scrap” Ratchet looked up to see Wheeljack had already pulled the lever to activate the ground bridge. Before Ratchet could yell at him, the ground bridge sputtered to life and the room was filled with a blinding white light.

The blinding light slowly dissipated, and Ratchet blinked as his eyes adjusted.

“WHEELJACK!” he scolded, furious at the wrecker’s inability to follow basic instructions. As he glanced around the base he realized Wheeljack wasn’t standing beside the control panel, but another, smaller, red and white bot was.

“Ratchet??” the bot gasped, it sounded like Starscream. A feeling of confusion and slight dread washed over Ratchet’s spark, but he had no time to figure out what happened as the Starscream-sounding bot lunged towards him. Ratchet was not a warrior, and he spent most of his time at base, but he did know how to handle himself in combat, in his own, unique way. He slyly scanned the bot tackling him, and with a well-placed strike-

THWACK!

He hit his attacker in the t-cog. He pushed the groaning plane off of him and was on his feet before the bot transformed back into his base mode, still curled on the ground in pain. Ratchet was about to move towards the control panel when he heard approaching footsteps and paused.

“Starscream, what on earth is all that racket?” It was Knockout, entering the room with Breakdown. But their colours were slightly off- Knockout was a shade of teal, and breakdown, though the same colour as Ratchet remembered, had some white plating, as well as some asymmetrical white stripes down his front. Both froze when they entered the room.

“Starscream! What happened?!” Knockout’s shoulder plating flared in surprise

“How’d an autobot get in here?” Breakdown stepped protectively in front of Knockout, and Ratchet took a defensive stance- he might have to fight his way out of here.

“Urgghh,” Starscream pushed himself upright, still clutching his side, “Don’t just stand there, grab him!” There wasn’t much Ratchet could do in a three on one fight, even if Starscream was slightly crippled, so he resorted to glaring at each of the decepticons as Breakdown put a firm hand on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“What do we do with him?” Knockout eyed Ratchet cautiously, “Can we just lock him in a room until Megatron gets back?” Ratchet did not like the sound of that. Something was definitely wrong, and he had to figure out what.

The decepticons did put Ratchet in a mostly empty storage room. He could just barely hear them arguing about someone they called “senator”. From what he saw of the base it was, in fact, Autobot Outpost Omega-1, but if it was, then why were the decepticons there? He pulled up the scan he had taken during his scuffle with Starscream. Something was off. Sure, the scan was of Starscream, but pulling up a previous scan, from when he had provided treatment for Starscream in the past, the Starscream he just saw was more colourful and less scrawny than the Starscream he knew. They were undoubtedly simultaneously the same and different…somehow.

Starscream had definitely done something wrong when restarting the ground bridge. When the bright flash subsided, Senator took note of his surroundings and was taken aback when he saw Slicer standing where Starscream should have been. At least, he was pretty sure it was Slicer.

“What are you doing here?” He inquired cautiously, knowing it was better to never truly trust the mercenary before him

“What?” Slicer blinked, “Where’s Ratchet?”

“He’s not- what? Wait, where did-” Senator was so confused, but his questions were cut short when the approaching footsteps stopped in the doorway, and he locked eyes with two autobots- a large green bot and a smaller yellow one.

“Stay back!” Senator brandished the wrench in his hand, it was the only weapon he had on him, and was far less intimidating than his regular gun, but it would have to do.

“Woah, hold on a minute, where did he come from?” The larger bot approached him, undeterred by the wrench

“What are you doing in the base?!” Senator looked over at Slicer, “Did you bring them here?!”

The smaller yellow bot produced numerous beeping noises that Senator didn’t quite understand at first, but he thought that he was questioning Slicer.

“How should I know where Ratchet is? He was right next to the bridge, then next thing I know this guy is here” Slicer didn’t seem to recognize him, in fact, none of the autobots were addressing him. Maybe he could sneak away while they were arguing? It was incredibly risky, but what else was he supposed to do when the base was filled with autobots? A stupid plan was better than no plan, he thought.

A new level of terror hit Senator’s spark when Optimus walked into the room. He had a red paintjob, but Senator was certain this was the autobot leader, and he was incredibly imposing. By the time he had a chance to think, without realizing how dangerous this stunt would be, his wrench left his hand and bounced off the side of Optimus’ head with a TING.

Optimus barely flinched as the wrench impacted, then it fell to the ground, having done nothing but probably anger the autobot leader.

“Scrap” Senator squeaked to himself; he was most certainly going to die here.

Ratchet stood in the corner of the room, so he could hear fragments of the conversations taking place loudly elsewhere in the base. A small amount of energon was trickling down his arm, part of his plating removed to reach his communicator. Ratchet had to contact his team, and his communicator wasn’t working. He wasn’t sure how to fix it yet, but he had the start of a plan.

He heard footsteps approaching and had just tucked his communicator out of sight right before the door opened. He was now face-to-face with Megatron. Megatron glanced down at Ratchet’s arm and looked rather concerned to see it partially dissected.

“KNOCKOUT!” Megatron called as he strode forward, Ratchet had no time to retreat before Megatron grabbed each of Ratchet’s hands in his own.

“What are you doing?” Megatron looked worriedly into Ratchet’s eyes, “Please don’t do that.” Megatron spoke softly to him

“WHAT, I’M A LITTLE BUSY.” Knockout finally called back, his voice filled with enough sass to get him killed, if this was the Megatron Ratchet knew.

“JUST GET IN HERE, KNOCKOUT!” Megatron’s voice was loud, but it was concern, not anger.

“Yes?” Knockout said, sliding into view.

“Take a look at this, is it fixable? Can you fix this?” Ratchet had never heard such kindness from Megatron, even when they were friends long ago.

“Eeugh” Knockout squirmed, “Did he do that to himself?”

Megatron looked at Knockout with a pleading look, but said nothing more.

“Yes, I think I can fix it.” Knockout looked closer at the wound and Ratchet tried, to no avail, to pull his arm free from Megatron’s grasp, “But he will have to stop wiggling.”

Knockout fixed Ratchet’s arm, at least, he tried to. Ratchet looked at Knockout’s “finished” work and made a note to himself that he would have to fix it later. Once Knockout and Megatron left, he could overhear some discussions between Megatron and Starscream

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him” Megatron said

“You can’t be suggesting we put someone in there with him after what he did to me” Starscream complained, “He’s mad.”

“Please don’t say things like that” Megatron sounded rather offended on Ratchet’s behalf.

The conversation faded out like they had walked further away, so Ratchet continued to plan. He turned his communicator around in his hand a few times. It was not damaged at all, but wouldn’t connect to any frequency. Maybe if he could boost the signal somehow…

Ratchet pried a panel off the wall to reveal some wires. Careful not to cut any necessary wires, he removed some parts and began affixing them to his communicator. Suddenly, the door opened, he didn’t hear anyone approach, Ratchet thought he may have pulled the wrong wire, but when he glanced over at the doorway, where a small feline beastformer stood growling.

“Cease!” the feline hissed, looking at the panel Ratchet had taken off the wall, “Where is he?” the cat stalked forwards.

“Where is who?” Ratchet didn’t recognize this bot, though they were certainly a decepticon, judging by the badge on their shoulder.

“Senator.” They glared at Ratchet

“I don’t know who that is.” Ratchet shrugged and began ignoring the cat’s further interrogation before asking, “Where is Optimus?”

“Useless!” the cat grumbled as their tail flicked in anger, “You’re useless!”

“Ravage?” A familiar voice carried down the hall as Raf appeared, “Ravage, Soundwave is looking for you.”

Of course, Ratchet thought, Soundwave had more than one cassette bot at one point, Ravage was well known for being annoyingly good at sneaking past autoboot guards on cybertron, but cassette bots usually didn’t talk.

“Um,” Raf placed a hand on Ravage’s side, “Soundwave wanted to talk to you. I can watch him while you go.” Ravage pondered for a moment, gaze shifting between Ratchet and Raf.

“You touch him,” Ravage growled, “You die.” Before scampering off to the main area of the base.

“Rafael,” Ratchet said, caught off guard by the boy’s presence.

“How do you know my name?” Raf looked up at him, confused.

“It’s… hard to explain and sounds rather unreasonable.” Ratchet

“Well, everyone already thinks you’re kind of crazy,” Raf chuckled, “Try to explain it. I can withhold judgement.” Ratchet had to admit that Raf not recognizing him did hurt a little, but only solidified his theory.

“I am not from here, primus this sounds stupid out loud, I think the ground bridge malfunctioned while I was fixing it, and,” Ratchet sighed at the absurdity, “And it sent me to another dimension.”

“Like the shadow zone?” Raf tilted his head to the side.

“Similar, but different. Where the shadow zone is a plane within one universe, somehow a single ground bridge malfunction connected the two universes briefly…” Ratchet was still puzzled at that part- events like the shadow zone occur when ground bridges interact with each other, so what was the significance of this dimension?

“We had a ground bridge malfunction, too.” Raf explained, “Starscream said he activated the ground bridge rather than resetting it, and then Senator disappeared.”

“That is… eerily similar to what occurred before I came here.” Ratchet paused briefly, “Who is Senator?” Ratchet finally had someone he felt like he could trust to give him answers.

“Senator is one of the decepticons here, protecting earth” Raf then added, sadly “And he is my friend,”

“I think I may have a way to reach him,” Ratchet saw the hope brighten Raf’s eyes, “If you dial the ground bridge to the previous coordinates, the ones that connected the universes, you may be able to use this to send a message.” Ratchet passed his modified communicator to Raf.

“How do I convince the others to trust you?” Raf said, holding the device

“I don’t know,” Ratchet said, “But I have faith in you. The Raf that I know is my friend, I don’t see why I should trust you any less.” Raf nodded and walked off own the hall, leaving Ratchet unguarded. He heard Raf talking in the distance, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. Ratchet hoped that his modified communicator, when paired with the ground bridge, would be able to boost the signal enough so that, if this was another universe, he could reconnect with his own.

Senator hadn’t moved for a long time, cautiously watching as more autobots joined in conversation, wondering how he got here, but they barely addressed him. It’s not like he wanted to answer their questions, so he was very brief. At least Optimus seemed to forgive him for tossing a wrench at him. He still had no idea why he was in a base filled with autobots, a base that looked exactly like the decepticon base. Then his eyes caught something across the room, on the balcony, the kids were there. He carefully and stealthily made his way across the base, never straying far from the wall to keep the most distance between him and the autobots.

“Raf!” Senator said in a cautious whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“…What are you doing here?” Raf peeked over the edge of the balcony to look at Senator

“How do you know his name?” Jack narrowed his eyes at Senator

“I know all of you, Jack.” Senator couldn’t explain what he couldn’t understand

“Woah” Miko leaned precariously over the edge of the balcony to look at him, “Do you know my name?” At this point, the yellow autobot had noticed their conversation and made his way over, and Senator felt himself tense at the bot’s presence.

The bot whirred and beeped, asking something of Raf.

“He doesn’t seem dangerous, Bee.” Raf shrugged, “I don’t think he’s going to hurt us.”

“Hurt you?” Senator was floored by the blatant remark, “I would never! We vowed to protect earth’s inhabitants!” This definitely got the attention of the autobots who looked rather confused at his statement

“But you’re a decepticon,” Miko gave him a puzzled look, “Evil an everything?”

“I’m a decepticon,” Senator returned Miko puzzled expression, “But it is the decepticons that are allied with the humans, not the autobots.” The confusion continued to spread around the room

“What universe are you from, that’s completely backwards!” joked a bot that Senator didn’t recognize, “The autobots are the good guys.” Something was certainly wrong here, Senator felt confused and out of place. The autobots being good? That doesn’t sound possible, he thought, but then again, none of this seemed normal.

WHOOSH

The entire base grew silent as the ground bridge sparked to life with no explanation. Senator and Raf were the first to look over to the main screen, lit up with an incoming transmission. Senator held out a hand to Raf, and the boy hopped on with little hesitation. Senator placed him on the keyboard so he could answer the call. The screen glitched slightly as the call connected. On the screen was Raf and Soundwave.

“Soundwave!” Senator exclaimed, breaking the silence

“Senator!” Raf’s voice came from the other side of the call, his eyes widened as he locked eyes with Raf and he added, “Wow, Ratchet was right.” This caught the attention of the autobots, and Optimus came over to stand next to Senator.

“Senator, are you okay?!” Ravage had hopped up onto Soundwave’s shoulders, “Shock, I was worried you were gone for good!” Ravage shook their head in relief. Senator chuckled to himself, there was no way Ravage would let him out of their sight ever again.

“My spark hasn’t given out yet, which is saying something, considering I am in a base full of autobots.” The autobots seemed to pose no threat, but Senator still tensed a little as Optimus leaned in beside him.

“Ratchet,” Optimus said, peering at the screen, “Are you okay?” The three on the call looked behind them to see Ratchet approaching, and Ravage let out a low snarl.

“I’m fine Optimus,” Ratchet ignored the cassette bot’s posturing as he came to stand next to Soundwave.

The rest of Senator’s team was slowly filtering into the main area, each teammate voicing their relief in his being alive. It was interesting to see how similar each team was, each side of the call had an overwhelming air of relief, but there was still some anxiety in their situation.

“How are you going to get back, Senator?” Megatron’s presence made the team of autobots bristle, not so different from the decepticons’ reaction to Optimus

“I had nothing to do with this,” Senator began, “but I’ll take a guess and say that the ground bridge doesn’t look stable enough for travel.” The ground bridge, at least on their end, was flickering and popping with unstable energy

“It’s not,” Ratchet said through the feed, “It’s unlikely the connection will last very long.”

In perfect timing, their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the beeping of an alert. At first, Senator thought that it was only coming through the call, before realizing that each base had a simultaneous alert.

A proximity alert.

“Decepticons.” “Autobots.” Both teams called the blame on their greatest enemies, realizing that the alert was due to the approaching enemy ship.

The entire base shook as the Nemesis roared overhead, and the entire team was looking to Optimus for a plan. But what could they do? The ground bridge wasn’t closing, still active across the dimensional rift, completely blocking their only exit. Smokescreen braced for the impact of the decepticons’ cannons, but the base became deafeningly silent. Smokescreen looked around at his friends, whose forms flickered and warped before disappearing, one by one. Smokescreen looked down at his hands flickering and fading. He looked up as the base was filled with bright colours emanating from the ground bridge, then the entire room went dark.

(end of prologue)

#transformers #my fic #tfp #tfp au #tfp sg #transformers prime #shattered glass #shattered prime

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sirtrashfire · 2 years ago

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Broken Record

It all started that first loop, when Smokescreen was branded. Now he is stuck in a loop and absolutely determined to make sure Optimus Prime survives. The only problem? It seems that Primus himself has other plans.

(This thing is bloody LONG so be wary if you decide to start reading. I am not joking this thing is crazy so PLEASE if you are going to read be PREPARED.)

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It was the greatest cycle of Smokescreen’s life when he landed on Earth. There could have been no greater honor than coming to a world and being given the chance to serve directly under the one and only Optimus Prime. And for a few short Earth months, Smokescreen learned and fought alongside the most elite of their kind, growing and coming closer to the team all while being able to interact with the leader of the Autobots. It was a dream come true… until Megatron found their base.

Optimus decided to stay behind. Smokescreen and the rest of the team hated it, Ratchet most of all. But who was he to argue against an order? And so Smokescreen fled when he was told to, at least at first. He could not allow his Prime to die, especially not without honor. And so he threw himself back into the groundbridge, emerging into fire and ash just in time to find Optimus and drag him away with the help of the phase shifter.

It was bad, and even after what had to have been millions of years, Smokescreen recalled the distinctness of that first loop with crisp clarity.

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“Don’t worry Optimus! I’ll get Ratchet and he’ll patch you right up!” Smokescreen attempted to soothe despite seeing Optimus’s optics flicker more with every nanoklik. This was bad, this was very very bad. He wasn’t trained in this-

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” Optimus’s voice called out in the darkness, his vocalizer straining with each glyph he uttered. His frame heaved, his battered body failing more every time he vented. Smokescreen wanted to panic, but Optimus’s field washed over him sadly and in understanding. There was something sorrowful in his optics, something that did not seem to be the languishing of a dying mech. His field spoke of… pity for Smokescreen of all beings. Why?

“And I believe in my spark, that… that leader stands before me right now.” What?

“Optimus, I can’t-!” He tried to object, to step away. But Optimus held firm, grabbing his arm with strength a dying mech should not have had. His gaze held a fierceness that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend as the failing Prime again spoke into the darkness, his will so mighty that for a split second, Smokescreen found himself afraid.

“The will of Primus is absolute. This is the calling, and you cannot escape… none of us can.” Optimus’s field flared, his optics blazing as Smokescreen felt a searing heat creep into his spark. He cried out as he fell to his knees, looking toward Optimus in terror. The Prime however merely gave him a pitying look before he sighed, his vents fluttering before he ultimately fell still, his spark sputtering out.

Smokescreen could only gape as his spark flared in agony, a brand now placed upon it that ached unendingly. Optimus’s broken torso split as the Matrix revealed itself, shining in all its glory. And yet when Smokescreen viewed it, his very being cried out in terror. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want that accursed thing in him. Something deep down within him told him that the relic before him was dangerous.

“No, this isn’t how the story is supposed to go.” He attempted to get up and run, primal fear directing his movements. However when he ran, leaving the body of his Prime behind, something shifted. The brand in his spark burned with such fierceness that by the time Smokescreen managed to track down one of the team, he all but collapsed. He didn't recall what followed perfectly, but he was sure it was Bumblebee who tried to hold him up and figure out what was going on.

Smokescreen could do nothing as his vision swam and he purged until he had nothing left to give. It BURNED and there was nothing he could do as he heard Optimus's soft voice in the back of his mind and the world became a mess of colors before fading to black.

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy."

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Just as quickly as it all ended, Smokescreen found his optics booting online again to the sight of his stasis pod opening. He found himself climbing out into a burning crater, unable to figure out what in Primus's name was going on even as Vehicons swarmed his pod. He knew this scene. He had lived this scenario. However he had no time to figure out what was happening as the Autobots arrived with a very much alive Optimus Prime leading the charge.

He decided not to question as he threw himself into battle, a little wiser and better trained than before. He quickly jumped into formation, flanking Arcee and laying down suppressive fire as she had directed him before. By the time he was finally questioned, Smokescreen found himself in total disbelief. He had watched Optimus die and yet here the Prime was asking for his designation and thanking him for his efforts. Arcee was still as snarky as the first time and Ratchet was firmly sitting in the boat of suspicion. But this was just as things played out before.

"I'm Smokescreen, a member of the elite guard." He stuttered, his optics wide and his spark flaring as the brand pulsed. It ached and all Smokescreen could do was stare up at the mech he thought dead until Bumblebee stepped forward in concern.

"Are you alright? You are leaking coolant." Reaching up to touch his face, Smokescreen found coolant falling from his optics. That wasn't right. Why was he crying? Optimus was alive. It had to have all been some sort of relic induced fever dream. He had been abusing the phase shifter before all this and he had been guarding the Hall of Records. Strange things happened to mech who worked there. Maybe it was doing things to him, giving him visions.

It couldn't have been real. He refused to believe it was.

"I'm fine. Just a bit out of it. It's not every day you meet Optimus Prime of all bots!" He shelved his memory and forced himself to smile. Arcee glared, Ratchet scoffed, Bulkhead nodded, and Bumblebee got back in position. Optimus for his part merely made a soft sound, his optics glinting before he ordered a groundbridge back to base, regardless of Arcee and Ratchet's complaints.

Smokescreen simply smiled. The brand burned, but he did his best not to feel it. Everything had just been a bad dream. It was all going to be fine now. He would use what he knew to his advantage, and this time, he would ensure Optimus Prime survived.

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He did his best to warn his Prime without putting too much faith in his vision. He directed the team away from dangers and jumped into the fray with more wisdom than before. Nothing changed all that much, but there were a few less scars than in his vision and that was a small relief. Despite Smokescreen's efforts, Megatron found their base again. It was not ideal, but this time Smokescreen knew how damaged Optimus would be. He couldn't get Optimus to change his decision, he knew that much. But if he could get Ratchet to stick with him, then he could stop the devastation he knew was coming.

"Ratchet, he's going to survive the blast, but he won't last much longer afterwards. He needs a medic on call." Smokescreen murmured as he pulled Ratchet aside. The medic gave him a sharp look, seemingly about to say something snippy before Smokescreen shushed him.

"Listen to me! You won't believe me if I tell you, but I know what is going to happen. The blast will hit, the Cons will arrive, and Optimus will survive for a few more days after the attack." Ratchet's optics blew wide, his field radiating pure suspicion. Smokescreen grabbed the medic's shoulders, trying to convey his conviction as much as he possibly could. Ratchet was a hard nut to crack, but not impossible.

"Are you a traitor? Is that how you know what's coming? Did the guilt of knowing eat you up inside? Is that why you are telling me this now that it's too late to stop our base from being destroyed?!" Ratchet's voice raised as the ceiling shook. It wouldn't be long now.

"You just need to trust me! I'm no Con, but I saw the future! So please, listen to me!" Optimus and the rest of the team began to return back into the base through the elevator shaft. Smokescreen could only curse as he hurriedly hissed.

"There is a cave system under the base not far from here! I will take Optimus there after the blast hits! Meet me there with your medical kit!" The sound of blaster fire and the team rushing into base had Smokescreen pulling away, but before he left, he did his best to nod toward Ratchet and pray that his words were taken to spark. The medic glared, but his servos shook enough that Smokescreen could hope.

He was right to hope. When Smokescreen pulled Optimus from the ash this time, Ratchet arrived not an hour later and began to dutifully tend to the ailing Prime. It was bad enough that even the medic seemed to be on the brink of a mental breakdown, but as wounds were welded shut and energon siphoned into Optimus's battered frame, Smokescreen found himself hopeful. Things were still rough, but Optimus wasn't about to die anymore. They could make this work-

"Smokescreen." Optimus called out from where he lay on the ground, Ratchet still fussing over him. The medic stilled and Smokescreen paused as the brand burned. Coolant began to fall from Ratchet's optics as his scanners blared.

"No no no, Optimus please no." Ratchet pleaded, his voice edging into static as he desperately tried to weld more wounds shut and repair the extensive damage to Optimus's systems. Smokescreen shook his helm, this couldn't be possible. He had made things better. His vision couldn't have been real. He was meant to stop this from happening.

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." The same line. The same look. Optimus stared at him in understanding and again Smokescreen found himself afraid. This wasn't right. Optimus wasn't meant to die.

"Not again! I am not doing this again! I am not letting you die, Optimus!" Smokescreen cried out even as the Prime repeated that same pitying stare. Smokescreen did not wait for the inevitable as his brand burned. He ran faster than he ever had before as Ratchet wept behind him. He wouldn't stay, he wouldn't wait for what was now a certainty.

He ran until he could run no more, falling somewhere in Nevada far from Darkmount. His processors screamed at him to return to the team, but as he lay on the ground, the brand burning just as hot as it had in his vision... he knew that was no longer an option. Optimus was dead. He had failed. As his vision began to swim once more, he found conviction lacing his very being.

This was not how the story was meant to end.

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Again he found himself coming online to meet the familiar sight of his stasis pod. This time, he wobbly emerged. He looked around in disbelief, glancing down at his servos and the Vehicons surrounding him in absolute fear. He was back again. There was no way that was all just a vision.

When the team arrived, he was too shaken to help. He hid within his stasis pod, watching the fighting playing out from within. Vehicons were shot at until they fled, and despite feeling like a coward, Smokescreen remained huddled up in the only space he knew to be safe until at last the team neared. From the inside, Smokescreen could see them arguing over whether or not to open his pod. Smokescreen made the decision for them with unsteady digits.

"A youngling." Optimus mused as the pod opened and Smokescreen's shaking form became visible. He tried to still his movements, but his vents came in broken sputters and he could hardly move with how much it all was. He was back again. HOW was he back again?

"Part of the Elite Guard based on his badge, although he doesn't look the part." Arcee taunted, her blasters lowered but still ready to turn him into scrap metal if Smokescreen acted out of line. The rest of the team made similar comments, all appearing highly unimpressed. Smokescreen wished he could speak in his defense, but he was shaking too much. His spark ached, the brand still burned, but it was easing. The fragging brand had to have something to do with this. Whatever Optimus did to him the first time had changed him, he could feel lit.

"Youngling, you are safe with us. Can you tell me your designation?" Optimus knelt down and reached into the pod, offering a servo to help Smokescreen up. It was all so very wrong, but Smokescreen accepted the aid and stood before the team, trying desperately to find his voice. He was back again, he didn't know how, but he was. And if he was back-

He could change things.

"Sorry Sir. I was... not expecting my arrival here on Earth. I'm Smokescreen, an elite guardsmech." He saluted, but he did not smile. This was no laughing matter, not anymore. What he thought to be some sort of dream last time was evidently something else entirely. He refused to fail again.

"I will not fail you." He bowed, his oath flowing from his vocalizer smoothly despite the way his doorwings still twitched. He was going to make things right or die trying. Maybe then whatever this was would come to an end.

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"I want you to teach me to fight." Smokescreen proclaimed as he stood before the team. Bulkhead paused, Miko silenced her guitar with a strange look, and the other two children glanced over at him. Arcee glared, an act he had long grown used to, and Bumblebee's faux vocalizer whirled in confusion.

"You fight well enough to hold your own. What brought this up?" Arcee questioned as she crossed her arms. She didn't seem upset but rather intrigued. This time around Smokescreen had not made the best of impressions considering his hiding away in his pod. But he knew what he needed to do now. He needed to be better, fight harder. Then he could turn the tides and hopefully make it so that the team's base didn't get discovered at all.

"You are all elites. I want to know everything I can so that we don't lose any more good mecha due to my idiocy." A few raised optics ridges met his statement, but none outright rejected him. A long silence followed before Arcee made a hum of understanding and nodded.

"I'll teach you what I can. Just don't die rookie. I won't be going easy on you." The two wheeler smiled for the first time since Smokescreen's arrival. He returned it with glee. Finally, he could begin trying harder to make things right.

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Learning under Arcee was its own form of torture, but Smokescreen was devoted. When he wasn't training, he was reviewing his memory to prepare for what was to come. Battle after battle met him and each time he walked away more skilled. He was no longer the barely trained recruit who arrived on Earth two loops ago.

He moved faster, utilizing his size and the phase shifter to his advantage. Arcee became a close friend, at least as much as one could call Arcee that. She was there to guide him, and when he started working himself toward exhaustion, she was there to smack him back down to earth and give him a reality check. She cared about him in her own strange way, and Smokescreen appreciated it. Every smile she offered told him he was improving, and for the first time he felt as though he was really part of the team, if only because Arcee approved.

"I thought you were just a skittish deadweight, but you've proven me wrong." Arcee patted him on the back after a training session well done. Smokescreen grinned even as the brand ached. Soon, the time for the Cons to attack was coming. As he threw himself against a training dummy, he felt that maybe this time, he would be ready.

He was wrong. Despite his efforts and the additional victories for the Autobots, Megatron found their base again. He had no clue how the fragger did it, but somehow, regardless of whether or not Smokescreen gave up the base's location by accident, their whereabouts found their way to Megatron. Optimus stayed behind, and again Smokescreen pulled him from the ash. This time he tried something different, running to Darkmount to attempt to reclaim the forge of Solus Prime.

He tried to get it the first time around, but it had meant so little in his shock that he had forgotten to use it. This time he would not make that mistake, especially not now that it had been proven not even Ratchet could repair his Prime. But by the time he dragged the relic back to where Optimus again lay dying, the Prime once more gave him that pitying look that Smokescreen was quickly coming to associate with failure.

"Optimus! I brought the forge! It'll fix you up good as new!" Smokescreen pressed the hilt of the forge into Optimus's servo, but the Prime shook his helm in distress.

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." Frag it all.

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Smokescreen didn't hear the rest as Optimus's spark went out. He grit his denta, feeling rage run hot in his spark alongside the brand. He was doing something wrong. He had to be.

Twenty eight more loops Smokescreen threw himself into training. He was inadequate, and that he could fix. He learned under all of the team, doing everything in his power to train and become better. The novelty of waking up in his pod stopped shaking him sometime around the fifth loop and from that point onward, he moved directly into his next plan as soon as he was able to. Sometimes he learned under Arcee, trying to squeeze all the training he could from her and doing his best not to think about their lost friendship. Other times he worked with Bulkhead, learning the ways of strength and training with a hammer instead of a blaster. In a few instances he served alongside Bumblebee, learning the ways of the scout and exemplifying his already present skill with speed and stealth.

There were moments of levity amongst it all. Times when he would play video games with Bee and laugh until his vents ached. He missed those times most, especially the handful of loops where they became friends. Sometimes he would banter with Arcee, enjoying the short victories he earned before Arcee shot back at him. He missed her snark and fond chastising, more so during loops where he threw himself into training with another. Occasionally he even spent time with Bulkhead, reveling in dealing with the children and causing a degree of chaos. The Wrecker was not a mech Smokescreen would have normally befriended, but during the loops he worked with him, Bulkhead was a good teacher and Smokescreen enjoyed the stories the elder mech told.

The children themselves were plenty fun to converse and play with. Jack he found he had the most interesting interactions with. More than one loop he helped the boy get revenge on his bully. Miko was entertaining and quite a few times during his loops he ended up joining her collection of favorite bots due to his increasing skill in battle. Rafael and him never really got along, they had different focuses, but he came to appreciate the child. There were several instances where he spent quiet nights up with the boy, ready to take him home as soon as he finished attempting to decode Cybertronian glyphs. He tried not to think about those lost moments when he started the loop over again.

It was never enough. Every single time he always ended up at Optimus's side after the destruction of the base listening to that same line over and over again. Sometimes he dragged Optimus farther away to different locations, wondering if that would change anything. On other occasions, he left Ratchet with Optimus and went with the team to raid Darkmount alongside the mighty Ultra Magnus. That too was never enough. Optimus always died, and soon after he did, Smokescreen found himself once more in his pod.

It enraged him, but it taught him a lesson. Fighting would not save Optimus Prime. He needed to try something else. And so he instead turned to Ratchet. The doctor was one of Cybertron's finest, but he was only one set of servos. If they could repair Optimus after the blast, then all would be well. As such, when Smokescreen awoke for the twenty ninth time, he went directly to Ratchet.

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"You want to become a field medic? You are a guardsmech." Ratchet looked him up and down, that same disgruntled expression on his face as always. Smokescreen nodded, his conviction thrumming through his entire being. He'd already attempted battle as a means to fix things, and that had failed. Being a medic was the next best option.

"I know that. But the team come back injured far more often than they should and you only have one set of servos." Smokescreen pointed out with a raised optical ridge. Ratchet tisked and looked ready to object until Optimus spoke up.

"I see no harm in Smokescreen learning the art of medicine. You are overworked and we could use the additional skill, Old Friend." The Prime rested his servos on his hips, smiling fondly at Ratchet who waved dismissively even as he covered his face in what could have been embarrassment. Optimus chuckled softly as he continued.

"You have trained plenty of apprentices. What is the harm in one more? Smokescreen has already proven capable of fighting if need be. We would not be losing a soldier and would instead gain an additional medic." Ratchet grumbled, but after a moment, he sighed and shoved a series of datapads in Smokescreen's arms.

"Read all of those and come back when you can identify all outer components of the Cybertronian frame. If you can do that, then I will know you really want to do this." Smokescreen internally winced, but he did as he was told.

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That loop he learned under Ratchet, and while he was not skilled enough to save Optimus that time, he did not despair. Again and again he returned, devoting himself to his task. When he had free time he trained in combat just so that he wouldn't lose what he'd gained, but almost everything else was put away in favor of his medical training. He missed conversing and bonding with the others, but Ratchet was a good teacher, if a little gruff.

The cycles repeated, but every time, Smokescreen learned a little more about the medic who came to be a mentor to him. His education progressed, and he understood more and more why Ratchet was so very tired. Too many loops ended with one of the team coming close to death, and in one loop, even offlining permanently. Ratchet worked himself half to death just to keep the group operating, and for that, Smokescreen came to respect him. At first, he could hardly handle the sight of wriggling internals, but as he continually worked with Ratchet, he calmed. He stopped being concerned by the sight of innards strewn across the ground or energon spilled after the forty third loop. He watched bots die, he put torn limbs back into place, and he was no stranger to plague.

Most loops followed the same old tune, but every now and then, there were differences. Optimus always died, but the small differences taught Smokescreen valuable lessons. Serving under the doctor gave him ample time to learn and observe. He was familiar with the team and their past from his time training with them in prior loops, but working as a medic gave him greater insight. Arcee had aches in her joints from being stuck in the arctic. Bulkhead's hydraulics sometimes locked up when he tried to stand too quickly. Bumblebee's vocalizer always bothered him, and Ratchet himself had enough aches and pains that Smokescreen had to question how the medic still functioned. Optimus's medical files were extensive enough to have Smokescreen simply put them down quite a few times.

He learned, he grew, and loops passed by in a blur.

To learn of the war and its origins as he cleaned tools in the medical bay was by far one of his most favored memories with Ratchet. Odd as it was working in the dark and listening to Ratchet talk, Smokescreen cherished it. The conversations distracted him from the loss of friendships that plagued his mind.

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"You would hardly believe how much Optimus has changed over the vorns. Before the Matrix, he was a bit like you. Not much mind you, he had more political awareness." A slight jab, but Smokescreen did not react. He had long grown used to Ratchet's manner of speech.

"He was a cunning character, that's for sure. He walked on a knife's edge all throughout his time in the Archives. But after the Matrix, something changed in him." Ratchet stalled in what he was doing, his shoulders falling. Smokescreen looked up from where he was putting away the scalpels he was tending to, his fresh medical insignia glinting in the light. This was the eighth time Ratchet had deemed him skilled enough to bear the mark.

"He looked at everyone strangely. He stopped trying to connect with anyone. He seemed almost... defeated. I tried asking him about it, but the only answer I managed to get out of him was that the Matrix put him through a trial when he took it." The elder medic scowled and Smokescreen listened attentively. All details were important. He couldn't afford to waste what Ratchet was giving him. Building up trust with the medic in each loop was a time consuming affair.

"Do you know what the trial was?" Smokescreen asked cautiously. Talking with Ratchet required a degree of skill. Too informal and he wouldn't get anything, but being too formal had earned him the status of co-worker rather than confidant. He needed this information.

"No. All he's said is that every Prime goes through it so that they make the 'correct' choice." Smokescreen paused as the words reached him. What was it Optimus said during the first loop?

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy." He murmured to himself. Ratchet all but did a complete 180 to turn and face him, suspicion written all over his features.

"What was that?" The medic questioned sharply. Smokescreen waved him off.

"Nothing important. Just some old script I read." He had long become proficient in the art of warding Ratchet off. Besides, in the worst case scenario, he could just rebuild the relationship by making the correct verbal statements next time.

"Old script my aft. You are keeping secrets Smokescreen. I don't know what they are, but... I am here if you want someone to listen." Ratchet's field brushed over him in a fond manner. The doctor offered a rare smile and Smokescreen found his resolve shaken. Who would believe him if he spoke? Besides, Ratchet was already overworked enough.

"Maybe next loop." He whispered as he turned back to his work. Ratchet's concern washed over him, but the doctor did not pry. It was both a comfort and a curse.

Loops passed by, and every time he returned, he came with more knowledge and maturity. No longer did he find himself as energetic as before, likely an effect of Ratchet rubbing off on him. What used to leave him thrilled meant so little. He enjoyed praise and comfort from the team when he developed friendships during a loop, however, he simply wasn't as active. Patience was his priority and greatest asset... no matter how much it hurt to return again and again only to lose the bonds he formed.

Even still, the mission came first.

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"I find it hard to believe you were a guardsmech before this, Smokescreen. You have the skill to rival Ambulon prior to the war." Ratchet commented as he watched Smokescreen patch up Bulkhead's shredded arm. The Wrecker made a noise of agreement even as Smokescreen swatted him for trying to scratch at a fresh weld.

"I've been trained by the best doctor on Cybertron. I pin all of my success on him." Ratchet raised an optical ridge with an almost coy smile.

"Oh? And who would that be? I doubt Pharma would take an apprentice like you." Smokescreen knew this game. He returned the smile, and Bulkhead froze up on the medical berth.

"Guys?" The Wrecker called out before promptly attempting to claw at his welds again. Smokescreen smacked him upside the helm without even looking away from Ratchet. Bulkhead for his part cursed as Smokescreen spoke.

"Would you believe me if I said that I learned everything from you?" Ratchet scoffed and rolled his optics.

"Don't be ridiculous. You've been here a few weeks at most. Even I didn't learn that fast in medical school." The elder medic wandered off to do something or other, and Smokescreen returned to his task mechanically. It wouldn't be much longer now. Soon he would have enough skill to fix Optimus.

He waited, and finally during the sixty seventh loop, Smokescreen felt confident.

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"Smokescreen? What are you doing?" Bumblebee asked, his optics cycling in worry. Smokescreen did not look up at him as he feverishly reviewed his tools. Weeks had been spent working up to this moment. He had patches, faux fuel lines, energon packs, replacement parts stolen from deceased Vehicons, and so much more. He was going to do it right this time. Optimus Prime was going to live.

"I'm going to make sure Optimus lives." He answered honestly. He saw no point in playing pretend. When the loops ended and all was well, he would tell the team about his experiences. But for now, there was no use worrying them with things they couldn't do anything about.

"This isn't healthy. Ever since you got here, you've been... on edge." Smokescreen wanted to glare, but he kept his optics firmly on his tools as he loaded them into his pack. The phase shifter thrummed against his arm and he checked it over, ensuring it wouldn't go anywhere. Everything relied on his skill and the relic.

"I have work to do. I refuse to fail." He replied curtly, unwilling to bother with the details. It wasn't worth the effort anyway. However, when he turned to leave, he was met with the towering form of Optimus Prime blocking his path. The rest of the team loosely circled him, their gazes uncertain.

"You've been taking rations from storage and behaving suspiciously, Smokescreen." Optimus watched him critically, and for the first time, Smokescreen found himself looking around to see the team's equally calculating gazes. He hadn't been the most social this time, but he wasn't that suspicious, was he?

"I am not taking them for my personal gain, Sir. I am preparing for what is coming, and I will ensure that we come out on top of this war. You may not believe me, but I am not asking you to." Optimus's optics cycled, and his helm tilted as he thought. The brand on Smokescreen's spark flared as the Prime before him seemed to reach a conclusion.

"So it has chosen you... I understand now. Continue with your work, I will not impede your efforts." Just like that, Optimus walked away. The team gawked, and Smokescreen did so as well. What in Primus's name did that mean?

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He tried not to think about it, not when the time was so close. When Megatron finally destroyed the base, Smokescreen again dragged Optimus from the rubble. Only this time, he was fully prepared. With Ratchet coerced into joining him, he worked alongside his teacher in the dark of the tunnel system beneath the base to repair the ailing Prime. Ratchet did not question his preparations and instead got to work in silence. Wounds were shut, fuel lines sewn back into place, cables tied to their appropriate skeletal structures, and constant scans were run.

They worked like a well oiled machine, and Smokescreen at last allowed himself to feel giddy as he managed to get the worst of the damage closed off. According to all his calculations, Optimus would at least have another Earth year in him, so long as he remained still and received energon supplements. He was no longer critical, he was going to be fine. Years upon years and loops upon loops were finally yielding results-

"Smokescreen... How long has your trial gone on?" What?

"I don't understand." Smokescreen replied in confusion as the Prime's venting eased. Ratchet was passed out on the ground nearby, long groons of work exhausting him to the point of being forced into recharge. It was just Smokescreen and the Prime, and somehow that made the situation so much worse.

"You know more than you should... you are trained more than what I would have expected... I know these signs... I know what the trials look like." Optimus gently held Smokescreen's servo, his gaze again returning to that pitying look that Smokescreen feared and despised.

"Optimus, you are still in recovery. You must be a little disoriented." He tried to divert the conversation, but the Prime held firm, his optics cycling down and his gaze sharpening.

"How long?" The question hung in the air. Smokescreen's spark fluttered in terror as the brand burned and Optimus remained stony. He was unyielding. Smokescreen could not find it in himself to deny the question.

"Sixty nine loops. They start with my arrival on Earth and end when you die." Tortured venting filled the tunnels as Optimus began to tense up. On instinct, Smokescreen began running scans and preparing his tools. But again, Optimus grabbed his arm, just as he had in the first loop so long ago.

"You cannot stop this. It will continue until you give in." Optimus's optics flickered and his voice weakened.

"There is no escape." The Prime's field flared and Smokescreen cowered as his spark blazed in agony.

"This is the will of Primus." Optimus uttered before his entire frame seized up and fell still. Ratchet startled awake as his alarm blared, but it was too late. Smokescreen stepped back and watched on in total silence as Ratchet tried everything to restore Optimus's frame and force his spark to continue to blaze.

Optimus told him to give up, to let him die. After so many long years and countless hours thrown into his training? No, Smokescreen would not be giving up. He was going to save Optimus Prime, whether the Prime liked it or not. He made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

He woke in his pod, but this time, Smokescreen's processors whirled with a new plan. He had written off trying to keep Optimus from sacrificing himself simply because he thought it would be impossible to convince him. That was likely still true, but Smokescreen was wiser now. If he could get the team to listen, he could make this work.

Again, he was accepted amongst the Autobots without much argument. Optimus took one look at him and allowed him access. He was far more agreeable than the first loop, but Smokescreen was different now. A trained warrior and medic, he had skills that put him on par with the rest of the team. It made sense for the Prime to allow him amongst the ranks of the team.

It certainly saved Smokescreen trouble.

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"The Star Saber is on Earth and Megatron will arrive to try and take it. He will not succeed, but if he knows how powerful the blade is, he will create his own weapon. The Dark Star Saber." Smokescreen rattled off what he knew as he stood before the team, his expression steely.

"How do you know that?" Arcee's question came off as more of a threat, but Smokescreen remained unfazed. He knew the team far better than they would ever know.

"I have seen what is coming. I know exactly what the Decepticons are going to do and how they will do it. I know every possible variable for the most important events ahead, and I can tell you now that unless you listen to me, you will lose." The team froze, Optimus regarded him with something akin to shock, and Smokescreen stood firmly. He would make them listen, no matter the cost.

"So you're a Con?" Bulkhead all but growled before charging forward, not heeding Optimus's command to stand down. Smokescreen did not so much as flinch as he tucked and rolled, bouncing back onto his pedes and dropping down into a combat position. The Wrecker huffed and came at him again, but every time he swung his hammers, Smokescreen moved out of the way with expert precision. He knew Bulkhead better than the Wrecker knew himself. He trained under the heavy hitter and performed enough examinations over the loops to know each and every seam by spark.

"Enough. You are wasting your time." Slipping under Bulkhead's arm, Smokescreen landed a solid punch to the exposed cabling on his shoulder. Bulkhead's arm immediately went limp, and he fell to a knee, clutching the limb and looking up at him in anger.

"You little-!" Glaring, Smokescreen walked away from the cursing Wrecker and again stood his ground.

"I mean you no harm. I am only here to help you escape the doom that is coming. So please, listen to me." The team had their weapons ready, all save for Optimus who regarded him in interest. Smokescreen prepared to run if he needed to, but he had no intention of leaving until he got what he wanted.

"Stand down. We will listen to what he has to say." The Prime spoke and the team gawked.

"Optimus, you can't be serious!" Ratchet began before he was silenced.

"We will heed his wisdom for a time and see what it brings." That was the end of that. Smokescreen grinned, and he was quick to begin further explanations.

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He had not fully expected things to work out during his first attempt at piloting the team. As such, he did not despair when he failed to keep the team out of trouble the first time. There were always new variables, always new data points to consider. Loops came and went. Sometimes Megatron found the base earlier, and sometimes he did so later. Optimus always died in the tunnels in those loops. Other times, Smokescreen managed to convince the team to drag Optimus kicking and screaming away when the blast rained down. In those instances, the Prime was always killed by a stray bullet or through some other totally unexpected means.

It was infuriating, but Smokescreen learned and he adapted. Again and again he tried different things, moving the team in different ways and trying to avoid any and all potential causes of death for the Prime. However, as the deaths added up, there was a need for him to begin recording his thoughts and plans.

He began to keep a log each loop, just to ensure he didn't miss anything. And through those efforts, he found himself working alongside Optimus at the main console far more often than he anticipated. It was unsettling the first few loops, with Optimus often just standing by watching in silence. However, as the loops wore on and Smokescreen grew more and more passive as he worked, Optimus crept closer. Eventually, during the one hundredth and fifty seventh loop, Optimus spoke to him.

"You carry the weariness of the trial. I assume this is far from your first time experiencing these things." Smokescreen, no longer surprised by just about anything, nodded once and kept up his typing. Optimus hummed as he continued.

"You aren't willing to give in. I understand. I behaved similarly during my trial." Again, Smokescreen said nothing. He had no clue what this 'trial' was, but frankly he didn't care. The 'trial' wanted Optimus to die, and so Smokescreen would give it the middle finger regardless of the specifics of its nature.

"I would like to teach you." That gave Smokescreen pause. He looked away from the screen, only now feeling the weariness hanging on his very core. Optimus smiled gently and placed a servo on his shoulder.

"I did not have the luxury of a teacher during my trial. I wish to give you what knowledge I have, so that when yours ends, you may perform better than I did." Confusion laced every part of Smokescreen's mind even as he processed the words. Optimus, with far more kindness than Smokescreen had ever seen him, drew Smokescreen in for a hug.

He remained stiff for a klik, but as tears began to fall from his optics, he leaned into the Prime's embrace. It had been so long since he allowed himself to be cared for, to feel. The mission always came first... and yet in Optimus's arms, he found himself safe and comforted. He couldn't help his tears.

"I will not remember you when you come back, but speak the words you were imbued with when you were given the brand, and I shall know what you are." Comforting touches to his helm had Smokescreen nodding even as he sobbed. Oh, how it hurt. So many deaths, so many loops. The same cycle, never-ending. He hated it.

"I wish that it was not you who was chosen to bear this burden, but there is nothing that can be done now." The words hurt, but Smokescreen understood. Whatever this trial was, Optimus was familiar with it. The Prime knew and understood. He refused to believe that there was nothing he could do to change Optimus's fate, but he would relish what comfort he was given.

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He continued attempting to pilot the team, guiding them around the various key events he now knew as well as his own designation. He failed to save Optimus each time, but he did not allow himself to give up. Every instance was recorded and each time he returned, he rewrote his records. Somewhere there was a set of choices that would ensure Optimus lived, and Smokescreen was going to find it or die trying.

"Speak with confidence, Smokescreen. A leader must be able to convince those under him to follow a cause even to death." Optimus was a distraction in the extreme. Ever since that loop, Optimus had taken the time to teach Smokescreen everything under the sun whenever there was a spare moment between them. He should have really stopped allowing Optimus to teach him, but he couldn't help but crave the attention and understanding.

"Broaden your brushstrokes. The Praxian dialect requires less formality and more elegance." Language, culture, and history were a part of every loop now. Evenings once spent training with the team or under Ratchet were instead dedicated to study of Cybertron and the ways of rulership under the Prime. Smokescreen quite frankly enjoyed every single lesson. There was always something new to learn, and he never ceased to marvel at the stories despite his general apathy toward life in general.

"That strategy would work in most cases, but you must consider all the variables. Let us review the battle for Kaon and the siege of Iacon to review." War tactics that Smokescreen might have found boring long ago were now the staple of his life. He loved every lesson, and he adored the fact that despite the rest of the team failing to remember their bonds, Optimus remained static. As soon as Smokescreen uttered the words and mentioned what the Prime taught him, Optimus would immediately ask how far his education had progressed and work from there.

It was a comfort. However, with every loop, his agitation grew into boiling anger. None of the variables were working. His calculations always came out wrong. Every combination of choices led to Optimus's death, regardless of what was done. The forge's usage meant nothing, the deaths of teammates were irrelevant, and it seemed as though nothing could be done to stop the most impossible slag from killing Optimus if he didn't die after the blast struck the base.

It accumulated until Smokescreen could take it no longer.

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Three hundred and seventy three loops. None were successful. HOW were none of them successful?! He had done EVERYTHING.

"Why won't you live?" He murmured as he was brought back to the base for what felt like the billionth time. The team looked at him in confusion, but Optimus understood. He always understood.

"It is inevitable." The Prime answered simply as if he were talking about the weather. Smokescreen, despite being long hardened by every imaginable outcome and horror, scowled and flared his plating before clamping it down tight around him.

"I've done EVERYTHING, Optimus! Every possible variable! Every conceivable set of choices! I have made them all! WHY WON'T YOU LIVE!?" He cried as tears pooled in his optics. How hard was it for a mech to be kept alive? Evidently, if the mech was Optimus, it was fragging impossible.

"You always speak of this fragging trial and tell me to give in, but HOW CAN I DO THAT!? You are the PRIME! We need you! How can I just let you DIE?!" His vocalizer strained, and his voice dipped into static as he screamed. Everything had reached a boiling point, and he was unable to stop the stream of tears that poured down his cheeks as Optimus ushered the team back and stepped forward, kneeling down to Smokescreen's level.

"You must make the correct choice, Smokescreen. This torment will not end until you do. There is nothing in this universe capable of defying the will of the divine." Smokescreen wanted to scream more, but in the end all he could do was cling to Optimus uselessly as the Prime drew him in for a hug.

He heard the team murmuring as Optimus took him to an unused hab, the one that always ended up being given to him. Optimus stayed with him as he cried and blabbered, pouring out all his woes and his anger. He told Optimus everything, not sparing anything as he described the pain of lost bonds and the frustration of never being able to win. All the while, Optimus hummed a simple song until at last recharge took him.

He did not get up when the dawn came. He didn't want to. He stayed in his hab and huddled in the corner. Why should he care what the team thought of him? It was useless anyway. The only time he did much other than lie around and lament life was when Optimus brought him energon and coaxed him into drinking. He didn't want to fuel. He wanted it to be over.

Eventually, Ratchet started to bring him energon as well. Part of Smokescreen languished in the guilt of being a deadweight, but he was too tired to care. Optimus never shouted or scolded him. Ratchet made attempts to talk him through it, but Smokescreen remained silent. There was no point. It made no difference anyway.

The loop ended as it always did, and Smokescreen was dragged out of the base by the team despite his uselessness. They treated him kindly even while on the run, trying to help him even as his vision began to swim.

“Smokescreen, can you look at me? Please, we need you to be aware.” Ratchet knelt in front of him, true grief etched onto his features. He needed hope, but Smokescreen had nothing to offer.

“There is no point. He always dies, and he always will. I’ve tried everything.” Smokescreen muttered into his arms as he sat curled up in the junkyard Ratchet had hauled him to. The medic rubbed his face, trying to hide tears as he attempted to stay composed.

“I don’t understand Smokescreen. We need to get back to the team before the Decepticons-” Ratchet went on about a variable Smokescreen had already considered to the point of true apathy, but the mention of the Decepticons caught his attention.

The Decepticons.

What a fool he was. They were the one variable he had never considered properly. He’d tried moving the team to his specifications, but he had not even so much as attempted to touch the source of the problem to begin with.

“You have given me a new variable to test out.” Smokescreen managed a crooked smile as his vision continued to swim. Ratchet looked at him in absolute confusion, but Smokescreen merely chuckled.

“You are so going to hate me for this, but this next run, I am going to become a Con.” The elder medic looked absolutely baffled, but in his emotional turmoil Smokescreen merely laughed.

Finally, a new variable to consider. He could still prove Optimus wrong and save the fragging Prime from a universe that seemed dead set on killing him.

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The loop began and Smokescreen steeled himself. This was going to suck big time, but at this point, there was no other option.

“Soldier, what are you doing?” Optimus called out to him, but Smokescreen merely stood in the center of the crater coldly. He needed to play the part to make this happen. As much as he despised it, this was the only choice he had.

“My allegiance is to Lord Megatron of the Decepticons.” Raising his blasters, Smokescreen fired on the team. He took care not to hit any of them, as Vehicons finally saw that he was an ally and joined him on the battlefield, pushing the team back. The expressions of shock on their faces hurt him more than he thought, but this was what needed to be done.

The Decepticons were rightfully dubious, but he was brought to the Nemesis, where he knelt before Megatron. It felt foul to do so, but after so many loops… there was little he would not do for the sake of his mission.

“An elite guardsmech betraying the Autobots to come to me. That seems too good to be true, don’t you think so, Starscream?” Smokescreen remained in his kneeled position, but his sensors blared as he noticed the Lord of Vos nearing him. The skinny flier smiled evilly before strutting toward Megatron’s side.

“Indeed my lord. Not to mention, this reeks of a trap . A grounder has little use to the Decepticon cause anyway.” Frag-

“Then I believe it is decided. I have no need of you guardsmech.” Smokescreen only had time to regret his life decisions before he was face to face with a blaster and promptly knew no more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Again, he was in his fragging. POD.

It seemed that not even death could save him, and evidently, Megatron would not be easy to fool.

“What is your name, soldier?” Ah, there it was again. Smokescreen stood stiffly before the Autobot leader, the one he was trying so slagging hard to save. He sighed and gave his designation for the millionth time as plans formed in his processor. This was going to take far more work than he thought… but he could be patient. He’d long ago mastered the art.

There was a great deal of trial and error involved in the recruitment process. He had to get very good at remaining inconspicuous. Since death was apparently no longer an issue for him, Smokescreen took more risks over the next few dozen loops. He attempted the rushed recruitment a few more times before becoming acutely familiar with the pain of getting his helm blown off and promptly deciding that it wasn’t worth it in that manner.

From there he developed a plan to move slowly. Getting in contact with the Cons was not hard at all, and becoming an inside agent was even easier. He took absolutely no joy in feeding information to the Decepticons, but he needed an in. So when the relics came into play, it was the best information he could give without jeopardizing the team.

Not that it mattered much. He just needed to exploit this variable until Optimus survived. Then he could deal with the fallout. Even still, it took a hundred or so loops before he managed to find just the right line to walk. If he was too eager, the Cons would kill him on account of suspicion. If he didn’t tread carefully enough, the Bots would get him. He was not exactly the most pleased when Ratchet killed him once after catching him. Arcee cut him down a few times. Bulkhead was too heavy to land a hit and Bee generally didn’t aim to kill, but both still slagging hurt . Not to mention, he never enjoyed having to off himself afterwards in order to reset things.

Perhaps it was an abuse of the loop, but he simply didn’t care. Wounds hurt less now that he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. He hated betraying his fellows, but they wouldn’t remember in the end, just like they didn’t remember the bonds they forged over so many cycles.

Optimus found out he was a double agent every single time, though. Smokescreen had no clue how the Prime did it, but as soon as Smokescreen began negotiations with Megatron, the Prime was onto him. However, he never stopped Smokescreen, not once. He never helped, that much was for sure. Yet, he would still teach Smokescreen as if nothing were different about him. The lessons continued, and Optimus took the time to give Smokescreen access to spy training videos left behind by Jazz before the Exodus.

He didn’t like thinking about how much it must have hurt Optimus to watch Smokescreen do what he did. Smokescreen didn’t like thinking about the team much at all anymore.

Finally, after what was likely over eight hundred loops, Smokescreen managed to swap sides with reasonable credibility. He gave Megatron the location of relics and sabotaged the team in a manner that wasn’t really meaningful. Bulkhead would walk off the burns, and Arcee was small enough that being chucked wouldn’t be all that bad. Walking onto the Nemesis was terrifying, even more so once he had to begin blending in.

“Since you have proven capable in a variety of fields, you may decide who you wish to serve under directly.” Megatron gestured toward his lieutenants. Starscream made a disgusted face, Knockout shrugged and moved on, Soundwave said nothing as usual, and Shockwave did whatever the pit it was Shockwave did.

More variables to consider.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Deciding it would be best to cover his bases, Smokescreen stuck with Knockout for a few dozen loops. He appreciated the mech and managed to weasel all sorts of juicy information out of him once he proved a capable doctor and showed himself willing to polish the elder medic’s plating. It honestly wasn’t the worst experience. Smokescreen never looked better, but the position of Knockout’s fellow doctor simply wasn’t high ranking enough to get him anywhere, even if it did yield valuable information on the Decepticons. Of course, having spent so long training under Ratchet, there were a few interesting interactions in his loops before he moved on.

“What are you doing? Using a circular saw on a regular patient is asking for disaster!” Smokescreen exclaimed as he reached for a normal saw. Knockout pouted and activated his in-built saw to emphasize his point.

“It is more effective, though, is it not?” It was at times like these that Smokescreen wished he was with Ratchet again.

“The patient is AWAKE, Knockout.” He stressed while rubbing his face. Obviously, he had maintained a few bad habits from his time as a medic. He could really go for some high grade. Ratchet let him sneak a few sips off and on, and Primus, he really wanted a bottle at this point.

“And? Anyone who walks in here knows that it's my way or the highway.” The red medic smiled lovingly at his perfectly polished saw and Smokescreen lamented life. Knockout was a pain in the aft, but he was a good distraction.

Of course eventually he needed to get back to work, and so after an extra loop just to blow off a bit of steam, Smokescreen turned to the next mech on the list.

He went to Starscream next simply because he was familiar enough with the seeker in his many many visits to the medical bay. Starscream hated him, and he hated Starscream. It was by far the least productive few loops Smokescreen had ever dealt with. He spent more time taking Starscream’s punishments for him than actually doing anything. Starscream got him killed twice by framing him, and that was enough for Smokescreen to decide it wasn’t worth it.

Shockwave was next on the agenda, and much like Knockout, while a valuable learning experience, there was not nearly enough influence in his position to help him. He could do nothing to assist the Autobots from the labs. He attempted releasing creatures a few times, but that simply never ended well. He tended to wind back up with the Autobots in restraints until everything came crashing and burning down. Science was never his best class anyway.

Finally, he settled on Soundwave. With the others already tested and Smokescreen being totally unwilling to risk it with Megatron without further information, he resigned himself to serving under the creep fest that was the spymaster. Smokescreen lost count of how many times Soundwave sniffed out his intentions before they could even begin. Those times ended with him being thrown off the edge of the Nemesis to his death. He was not fond of crushing as a form of offlinement. It took too long.

After what must have been a series of loops entering into the thousands, Smokescreen at last got himself together enough to last more than a cycle under Soundwave. He religiously studied Jazz’s instructional videos while with the Autobots as an inside agent and did his very best to play his part. Then, when he got onto the Nemesis and chose Soundwave, he went through what quickly became a very routine series of interrogations. Smokescreen found that the best way to not be caught was to never think of anything Autobot or mission related. It was a hard ask, but he learned a few meditation tactics over the loops that worked well enough.

He made a few valiant attempts at getting to know Soundwave for information’s sake, but the spymaster never told him much. The best he got was access to the Decepticon databanks, an event that changed his perspective on things wildly. It was also the only time Soundwave ever actually spoke to him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Soundwave… is this really what happened at the high council?” Smokescreen asked hesitantly as he reviewed the file. Ratchet and the Autobots always spoke of things as though it were Megatron who caused the war… but looking at this, it seemed the betrayal went both ways.

“Megatronus: Wanted power to free our people. Orion Pax: Was politically tied. Both made decisions in their best interest. Neither could comprehend the other.” Soundwave spoke and Smokescreen listened. It was no wonder Megatron wanted Optimus dead. If things were as it seemed, then the war was the result of one big misunderstanding turned into a grudge.

How ridiculous.

“Why are we still at war? Why couldn’t they both have just talked?” He found himself asking as he looked over the footage showing the rapid changes in both Autobot and Decepticon values over the vorns. Each side grew more and more radical to the point of detrimental behavior taking sway. Optimus taught him much of the old history of Cybertron, but not much about this.

“Megatron: Was humiliated. Orion Pax: Was coerced. Something changed. Megatron: Became darker. Orion Pax: Became Optimus Prime.” The spymaster replied emotionlessly as he typed away at his console. Smokescreen nodded grimly and returned to work. Was this really all the war was? Frag it all, he just wanted Optimus to live.

“Megatron isn’t right in the helm anymore, so why are you still loyal? Whoever he was isn’t who he is now.” Datacables hovered above him threateningly as the spymaster turned to face him. Smokescreen froze, but he did not back down. Soundwave seemed to think about the proper response before he settled on calming back down.

“Megatron: May not be fully sane. But Megatron has vision. Megatron: Is not a dead mech walking.” Soundwave’s spindly digit pointed toward a screen, and Smokescreen’s optics widened a fraction as he saw an image of Optimus standing in what looked to be a proud manner.

“What do you mean by that?” He questioned sharper than he intended. Soundwave regarded him with suspicion, and Smokescreen knew he was done. Even if he got his answer, he was fragged.

“Optimus Prime: Has been waiting for death. Smokescreen: Shall be there to greet him in the Allspark.” Smokescreen only had enough time to process the information before a blade sliced straight through his neck. He fell to the ground with a pained gurgle before his vision turned into a mess of color, and he woke in his pod once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He made valiant efforts to use his position amongst the Decepticons to help. He really did. But attempting to help the Autobots from the Nemesis was an impossible task. Again and again he returned, only to meet the same roadblock. If Megatron didn’t find the base, he found Optimus. The result was always the same. No amount of smuggled information, swapped allegiances, or dedicated spying ever did anything. Nothing. Ever. Worked.

He even tried to kill Megatron a few times. He might have had the experience of a mech with millennia of combat experience on his belt after so many loops, but Megatron was large and in charge. Smokescreen just wasn’t fast or old enough to do the necessary damage needed to offline the fragger. Thus, he changed his approach yet again. He attempted to try and play therapist to the warlord in an effort to possibly convince him to sign for peace. It was a vain attempt, and he knew it, but still, he tried.

And surprisingly, despite how much he still despised the mech, he came to understand him, just as he did with all the others he served under.

“My Lord, why do you hate Optimus so much?” He asked firmly but without any tonal indicators. Megatron killed him a few times for being too mouthy. He had long learned to question carefully.

“Inquisitive today, aren’t you?” Megatron shot back with a hint of venom. Smokescreen held his ground, Megatron respected those who did not flinch.

“I joined the Decepticons to help end this war that has gone on for too long. I want to know your views, why you began all of this, and why this war has continued.” Smokescreen explained simply as he stood at attention. He was not fond of the darker purple tones he had been painted in since he began his infiltration, but he appreciated how it shone now. Knockout had taught him a thing or two about plating care, and it showed.

“Well, since you are so eager to know, allow me to keep things simple. I created the Decepticons in order to give our people equality and freedom from the caste system.” Megatron began, his voice becoming softer and less… harsh as he spoke. Smokescreen tilted his helm ever so slightly in curiosity as he listened. This was… informative.

“Cybertron was torn between the high and the low caste. The latter were treated as cattle, slaves to be abused, while the former relished in the gains of millions of mecha unable to get proper fuel, much less go anywhere in the world.” Passionate. That was the way to describe Megatron’s words. Not the vicious, angry rants that Smokescreen knew among the Autobots, but rather a soft and true care for the issue.

“I rose up with my fellows to speak for the people. I took Orion Pax under my wing, teaching him of the issues of our world and showing him all that he could not see in his comfortable middle caste position.” Smokescreen observed as for a split second, Megatron looked young and hopeful again. The scowl he always wore faded away, and his optics glinted as he stared into space. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“When we stood before the high council, Orion Pax, whom I trusted with everything, betrayed me. He shot down my proclamations and stood for what he saw as peace. He took everything from my cause, humiliating us.” Megatron’s servos shook with renewed anger, and Smokescreen stepped back on instinct as the warlord turned to face him.

“You remind me of him. Curious and cautious. Maybe that’s why I haven’t killed you yet.” The warlord growled, his digits twitching before he turned away again. Smokescreen’s vents fluttered as he struggled to return to his normal cooling cycle, fear thrumming in his fuel lines.

“Or perhaps you remind me of myself. You have that spark of determination in your gaze… and that makes me wonder, what is it you are fighting so hard for? What conviction has taken your spark so fully as to abandon your faction for mine?” The tables had turned. Smokescreen stalled, panic beginning to flare in his spark alongside the brand. He expected to lie, but instead he ended up speaking the truth.

“I was told to give in. I refuse to accept that order, and so I am fighting against it in order to stop needless death.” Silence reigned for a long moment before Megatron nodded once.

“A noble goal, guardsmech. You will make a fine Decepticon.” Megatron stalked away and Smokescreen stood in shock. However, as he returned to his quarters and thought…

Was Megatron really wrong? At this point, his goals had long since shifted away from the Autobots and more toward ending everything.

Perhaps he was a Decepticon deep down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It wasn’t fair. So many loops, and it was all for nothing.

He did everything in his power to work with the Decepticons, and yet absolutely nothing worked. And after his discussion with Megatron, he began to come to a realization.

What was it he was really fighting for? Obviously he wanted to save Optimus, but he wasn’t trying to really stop the Decepticons anymore, was he? In the beginning, he put everything he had into fighting back, into giving the Autobots their victory. But now? After so many loops? He just wanted the war to stop. He wanted everything to end and for the needless death to cease.

It hit him rather suddenly, but after what could have been thousands of loops, Smokescreen at last admitted that he was… tired. Truly tired. He fought so very hard for so long. He rose up time and time again, hoping for things to change. And yet, just as Optimus said, there was no escape.

He wasn’t sure when he made his way to his quarters or what look it was, but Smokescreen made a choice. It had been so very long…

“Optimus.” He spoke into the communicator softly, hoping the Prime would hear him.

“Smokescreen, are you alright?” Optimus asked immediately, concern lacing his tone. Smokescreen merely sighed, rubbing his face. He had no more tears to shed, not anymore.

“You were right. There is no escape… is there?” Optimus remained silent for a long moment, and Smokescreen could hear the nervous flutter of the Prime’s vents before he answered.

“No. There is no escape. I have tried, we all have.”

The words echoed like a weight in his spark chamber, and all Smokescreen could do was darkly chuckle as a dry sob built in his throat.

“What do I do now?” He asked gently as he rubbed at his face, trying to keep his composure. Optimus sighed across the line and spoke as though he were soothing a wayward sparkling.

“Finish this cycle, and when it ends, come back to me. Let things play out as they should. I believe you finally understand.” A small part of Smokescreen wanted to keep fighting, to ignore the Prime’s advice. But as he thought, it made sense. What would further struggle gain him now?

“Alright… I’m sorry Optimus. I’m so sorry. I tried to save you. I tried so fragging hard.” His words came out in a choked mix of static and sobs, and he wept. Optimus, the kind mech that he was, uttered a single sympathetic phrase.

“I know Smokescreen. You would not have been chosen otherwise.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the loop began again, Smokescreen didn’t fight, he didn’t weep. Instead, he joined the team quietly and mingled with them as if he did not know what was to come. He kept his skill and knowledge behind wraps and pretended just to gain a sense of normalcy. The only times he allowed the mask to drop were when Optimus came to him, and they would sit and speak. Smokescreen told him of all his experiences, and the Prime in turn nodded in understanding.

Optimus did not share what he knew, but he didn’t need to. Smokescreen didn’t want to know. Not anymore.

Something in Smokescreen’s spark told him this would be the end of his endless loop. And so he devoted himself to bonding with the team. He did not laugh as he once did, but he played with Bumblebee, enjoying the familiarity of video games and good times. He trained alongside Arcee and Bulkhead, remembering bonds now long gone, as he pretended to match their moves and flounder despite having more experience than they likely did at this point. He went to Ratchet regularly, asking to be taught the art of medicine as a pastime. The doctor was a crankpot, but it was familiar, and that was all Smokescreen wanted.

The children kept him busy, the team gave him a home. Beneath it all, he knew what was to come, and so did Optimus. Neither fought against it when the time came for the base to burn. And when Smokescreen dragged Optimus from the rubble down into the tunnels, he did not cry as the Prime spoke.

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” How very familiar. Smokescreen almost didn’t hear with how many times he had endured the same line endlessly.

“I know. You’ve said this before.” He muttered as he sat beside Optimus, holding his servo in a comforting way. He was older now, wiser. No longer did he panic at the sight of his ailing leader.

“You show no fear… your conviction has eased… you are… ready.” Optimus’s hoarse voice caused Smokescreen to frown, but he nodded all the same. For once, the brand did not burn. Instead, it soothed the pain of his long memory.

This was meant to be. He knew this now.

“Forgive me… for leaving you like this.” Optimus gasped, his frame tensing up as he clung to life. Smokescreen washed his field over the elder mech and Optimus attempted to do the same in return. They understood one another. There was no point in fighting it now.

“I pray that our kind… have no more need for a Prime… once this war… comes to its end.” The Prime whispered as his frame failed him. Smokescreen merely nodded again as he replied softly.

“No other should endure this torment.” He agreed quietly. Optimus coughed and managed a smile before squeezing Smokescreen’s servo.

“I do not remember all you have endured… but I know in my spark… that a true leader stands before me… right now…” They shared their fields in silence as time dragged on. Smokescreen didn’t bother keeping track of it as he waited until he had the strength to make a new oath.

He failed to save Optimus, but he had not failed his people… not yet.

“I won’t let you down Optimus. I promise you, Cybertron will be restored, and this war will end.” With the last of his strength, Optimus smiled and Smokescreen returned it. Then, just like that, the Prime vented his last and fell still. Smokescreen remained with him, holding his servo for a klik until Optimus’s chassis split and the Matrix revealed itself.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. He had no reason to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The world was brighter now in a strange way. No longer did knowledge of the future loom over his helm. For once, all was calm. But of course, there was still work to be done. Admiration could come later.

“Where is Optimus Prime?” Megatron growled, his blaster aimed at the team who were held in chains. They glared at Megatron, but their expressions quickly turned to shock.

“Optimus Prime has become one with the Allspark. I am Nebulous Prime, his ordained heir.” Nebulous now stood at around the same height as his predecessor, but it did not concern him. The Matrix sat heavy in his spark chamber, but it did not burn. With the memories of his fellow Primes imbuing him, he now knew that one day the weight would kill him.

But for now, all was well.

“I come with an offer of peace and a plan to restore our world.” The team gasped, and Megatron regarded him with pure suspicion. Nebulous did not falter as he strode forward, uncaring of the weapons aimed at him. He was no longer functionally immortal, but death did not shake him.

“What is it you offer Prime ?” There was a hint of sorrow in Megatron’s tone. Nebulous noted it with a hum. Perhaps he had not thought this far, but whatever the case, it was irrelevant now.

“We shall repair Cybertron together. I shall retrieve the Allspark, and as co-leaders, we shall fix our shattered world.” The team looked ready to object, but Nebulous paid them no mind. They would not understand. How could they? So very blinded by war and hate. They did not know the agony of reality.

“How am I to be assured you won’t eliminate me the moment it becomes convenient?” Megatron questioned with a low hiss. The Matrix thrummed comfortingly, providing knowledge which Nebulous happily accepted as he spoke again.

“I am not my predecessor. My trial was different from his… and I know that what you seek to gain at your core is also the goal of all Cybertronians.” All those present paused, and Ratchet looked ready to purge. Megatron for his part lowered his blaster and seemed contemplative.

“You truly desire peace, little Prime?”

The question hung in the air as Nebulous approached and extended a servo.

“More than anything else. This war has dragged on long enough, so please, let us bring it to its end.” He and Megatron locked optics for a long klik before the warlord nodded and took his servo, shaking it with considerate strength.

“For Cybertron.” Megatron murmured, his expression returned to that hopeful visage Smokescreen saw so many loops ago.

This was not the end Smokescreen wanted, but it was the end Nebulous strove for. Personal connections and petty grudges meant little now. All that mattered was restoring their home. Enough had perished as it was.

Optimus would have wanted this.

Nebulous would not fail, not again.

“For Cybertron.” He agreed.

And he meant it with all his spark.

Wherever Optimus was, Nebulous hoped that he was finally at peace.

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