#you just want optimus to be Nice without actually having a cause to stand up for

[thanksjro]

Zero Point, a Last Stand of the Wreckers prose story- I Sure Hope You Like Eye Imagery

Ooh, an artsy start to our prose this go around.

This story takes place after the events of Last Stand of the Wreckers, with our dear friend Springer well into his Overlord-induced coma.

Roadbuster is a gentle soul, when he’s not busy ripping people’s spines out.

Roadbuster’s been put in charge of the Debris station since Springer’s out of commission. It’s boring. He’s bored. He has a routine he follows, but there’s only so much grave-visiting/security-checking/weapon-building/eyeball-cleaning a guy can do within a 120 hour day before it becomes less of a routine and more of a compulsive habit.

Springer’s eyes are a specific shade of blue known as Matrix Blue- supposedly a marker for being Matrix Compatible. Considering that Senator Shockwave had to go and get multiple guys some nonconsensual plastic surgery to make sure they could actually fit the Matrix, I’m going to go ahead and say that that’s some bunk someone made up to hype up the mysticism of Primehood.

Springer’s obviously in a bad way, and it’s not looking like things are going to get any better. You can tell, because this is the point where his internal monologue kicks in, reflecting on just what it’s like to die, and his past. Sure hope they don’t have any vats filled with corrodia gravis on this space station.

Back before the war was The War, Springer was young and naive, but his boobs were just as awesome as they are now.

Springer became slightly disenchanted as his time on the front lines went on, thinking that he needed to do more to help the Autobot Cause. He decided he wanted to join the Wreckers, though he knew next to nothing about them at the time, and everything that he’d heard probably should have sent him running in the opposite direction. Decepticons caught by Impactor and friends would kill themselves in the middle of the street if they managed to escape.

But we’re dealing with a mind that’s been shaped by a civil war, now aren’t we? Impressions are warped for Autobots, because Decepticons are evil, and therefore they deserve that sort of thing, now don’t they? Nobody is immune to propaganda.

Springer first met Impactor at Sherma Bridge, where he saw him punch through a ship’s windshield, spear the driver’s head with his drill-hand, and then land the thing in front of a memorial statue. Gee, what a guy.

Springer, even though he’d seen all this and was feeling a little wary about this whole situation- which is a very valid reaction to witnessing a murder, no matter who’s been killed- decides to get put on the list of reservists for the Wreckers.

It’s amazing they even bother with Rung at all, isn’t it?

Springer’s interview is a violent one, because this is the Wreckers, and we don’t ever go half-mast on anything- Impactor falls out of the fucking sky in the middle of a huge battle and tells Springer that he’ll be coming with him. And that was that.

Oh hey, it’s the IDW2 eating chairs. And hello, Kaput, it’s nice to see you again.

Kaput’s diagnosis is as bleak as it is cryptic- Springer’s probably for sure going to die. Kaput seems to only exist to tell people they’re dying or dead, unless they’re the once and future Optimus Prime.

Kup’s pretty bummed out about this whole thing, pacing like a 1950’s father in the birth and delivery waiting room. Kaput doesn’t seem to notice, or is too lost the the medical sauce to realize that him going on about how they fixed that weird humming noise Springer’s legs used to make is making folks anxious.

Roadbuster asks just what exactly’s wrong, if they fixed everything from his ripped-off face to his weird humming legs. Kaput doesn’t like confrontation, so he blathers on for a bit before admitting that they haven’t found the zero point.

Roberts, how many times are you going to do this to Kup? First Rodimus, now Springer- did Kup bully you in primary school? I’m starting to get concerned.

That was six months ago, and while Roadbuster had been polite about it at the time, all the nothing that’s happened since has made him feel a little less kindly toward Kaput.

Okay, who’s ready to find out why doctors and mechanics aren’t the same thing on Cybertron? Because I sure am!

So they have to account for the soul, is what you’re saying. Is this about having some sort of bedside manner, because the mental aspect of healing has to be taken into account? Or is it more to do with the bizarre implications of the soul being physical as opposed to metaphysical, and therefore capable of being destroyed? The ethical conundrum that the spark presents is fascinating.

If a break happens between these two nerves, it can cause the energy of the spark to be redirected away from the points it’s meant to go, like a heart with a hole in it. Yes, the blood is still inside the body, but it’s not inside the veins and is therefore useless, and in fact is directly harming the body.

Roadbuster, after reflecting on the grim reality Springer is currently living, breaks out Wreckers: Declassified. This isn’t reading for personal enjoyment or ego-stroking however- Roadbuster actually greatly dislikes reading about himself in Fisitron’s datalogs. No, this is more of a last-ditch effort to save Springer’s life.

Roadbuster learned to read to act on a theory brought up by Rung- he and Kup are friends, on account of both of them being very old- that the spark is psychosomatic in nature. It can be influenced by intense emotional responses to potentially heal the physical self. They’re willing to try this, because nobody really knows how exactly a spark works, so Rung’s guess is as good as any.

Story time for the evening picks up on a chapter in a story called “The Wreckers’ Air Attack”, getting right into where Megatron’s about to shoot Impactor in the back of the head. But not without pontificating first.

This is so over the top, so romantic- and I’m talking Romantic as in the literary style. I don’t even know what to say here. Luckily Impactor does.

Fisitron may not know what this whole scene is about, but we as the reader do. The hardcover trade edition of Last Stand was published roughly a six months after “Chaos Theory”, where we got THIS exchange:

If this is what Megatron’s poetry is like, it’s no wonder Impactor isn’t a fan. Purple prose out the wazoo, incredibly flowery imagery- I’m sure there’s an audience for all that, but I doubt Impactor’s a part of that crowd.

Megatron is distracted just long enough for Springer to descend upon him on the sky sled, like a murderous Santa Claus, jumping off so the sled can slam into Megatron and send him careening down the side of the mountain.

That’s taken care of. What next?

It’s at this point that Roadbuster checks what chapter they’re on, because he’s really not the biggest fan of Fisitron’s writing style. Guess he isn’t one for fanfiction, or adverbs. Turns out, each of these datalogs are less blog posts and more fully-fledged books. Every single one of them.

Roadbuster’s feeling kind of hopeless at this point, and it’s not hard to understand why; there hasn’t been any sort of response from Springer at all in all the months he’s been reading to him.

He considers the contents of the only datalog he hasn’t cracked open yet, outright skipping over it every time- #113, the one about Pova. He doesn’t ever read it because it’s full of false information, as was made very clear in Last Stand #5.

Springer joined the 17th iteration of the Wreckers, after a hazing ritual so brutal, it required the addition of an amendment to the Misuse of Weapons Act. Horrifying. None of the original members of the Wreckers had survived the war by the point Springer had been brought on- except for Valve, who does not count because he left the Autobots to go be a Decepticon, a fact which will never be expanded upon, much like Eugenesis Skywarp having been an Autobot for some friggin’ reason.

Springer, once on the inside, realizes that maybe the Wreckers are a little too dark a shade of gray for him to be able to sit comfortably with- the battering of POWs just a little too enthusiastically, the bending of the rules a little too sharply, the blatant disregard for the Tyrest Accord being smoothed over with an “oopsie doodle!” It’s looking like the Wreckers aren’t completely on the straight and narrow; shocking, I know.

Still, he doesn’t really see the point in arguing with it, instead just trying to make sure that he’s not the one doing the maiming and such. Complicity is not the answer to this sort of behavior, Springer.

When Squadron X came onto the scene, Impactor was so upset at the perceived slight- because obviously if Squadron X was the Decepticons answer to the Wreckers, and they were a bunch of murderous assholes, what did that make the Wreckers?- that he made it everyone else’s problem. The Wreckers WOULD destroy Squadron X. It was his new goal in life.

This went exactly where you’d expect such a singleminded hate-boner to go.

After the execution of eight POWs who should have been let go due to being on sovereign territory, Springer decided that enough was enough and called the cops on Impactor. High Command had been itching to get this guy back under control, so things moved pretty quickly after that.

Springer resigned from the group afterwords, but then everyone started coming out of the woodwork, pestering him to come back and LEAD them, because they were worried about being shut down. The likes of Roadbuster and Whirl don’t exactly make for good executives. After thinking about it, and after the trial, of course, he agrees to come back on as the leader of the Wreckers. So began a new era.

Back in the real world, Roadbuster’s trying to read the falsified account of Pova, but just can’t go through with it. He decides to tell Springer the truth, if only so he won’t die with a bunch of bullshit bouncing around in his brain.

Springer did so many drugs in Eugenesis, he BECAME drugs in Last Stand.

So Springer is apparently the greatest hype man to ever live, as he pumped everyone up so much about getting Squadron X, they just went completely feral the moment they saw their ship. Squadron X wasn’t even doing anything, and the Wreckers were frothing at the mouth.

When this lead to the inevitable, and Springer was trying to break down the door to prevent Impactor from racking up eight war crimes in under two minutes, Roadbuster and Whirl had a little moment. They knew what had happened, they knew that they couldn’t stop it, they knew that Springer couldn’t stop it, and they were pleased as punch about it.

Once Impactor had been arrested, the other Wreckers were worried that they’d be the next to get ratted out. To try and prevent this, they created a false narrative to lure Springer back into the group, placing him in a position of leadership to soothe his worries about the others having been complacent in the murder of Squadron X.

Roadbuster finishes off this horrifying admission with a non-apology, complimenting Springer on being a good leader. Then he notices that Springer’s got a tear in his eye.

That’s a [ tair ] , not a [ teer ]. It took me a second, too. English is a nightmare of a language.

He tries to buff the tear out, manually peeling back Springer’s eyelid to do it, only to find that maybe Rung wasn’t completely full of shit after all.

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 5 - She Wolf (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3477

( Previous )

There was a ping at their door, but they barely had the time to glance up before it had already opened. Megatron loomed in the doorway, and he probably wasn’t trying to do that, but with his size and demeanor it was practically unavoidable.

Or maybe he was trying to do it. He was having plenty of success if that was the case.

Not that the twins were cowed. Sideswipe was lying on his front on their berth, playing a game on the datapad in front of him, and he didn’t lose the light caress of a smile he wore almost permanently despite the tyrant’s glowing red optics passing over him. Sunstreaker sat next to his twin, his art tablet in his servos, and his work unfinished.

He narrowed his optics at Megatron for the goddamn interruption. He was in the middle of something for frag’s sake. “Your ship, huh?” he grumbled. March in whenever he felt like, sure, why not! Not like they didn’t have anything better to do than entertain a particular despot.

“Mmm, so you do learn,” Megatron intoned, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. Sunstreaker would have said it turned the already dimly lit room that much darker, but honestly, with how poorly lit the hallways were too, there wasn’t much of a difference even with the door closed.

It wasn’t like their species strictly needed the light, but sheesh, it would’ve sure improved the mood of the place to not have dark nooks everywhere.

“What do you want?” Sunstreaker asked, saving his painting before subspacing his tablet. Something gave him the feeling it would be in the way, and he’d rather it didn’t get destroyed.

“What did you have there?” Megatron asked, taking the step from the door to the edge of their berth. Sideswipe ever so casually moved to one side of the berth, out of the way. Megatron glanced at him briefly, but his primary focus rested squarely on Sunstreaker. 

Who frowned at him, but he wasn’t the type to be ashamed of the things he did. What reason did he have to be, anyway? “I paint,” he answered simply, because nothing said that should have stayed a secret. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t good at it, too. If someone wanted to see his work… Let them marvel.

“You? That is a surprise,” the tyrant asked, just… Standing there, looking down at him. One of his optical ridges arched, probably in surprise, although Sunstreaker couldn’t tell how feigned or real it was.

He took offense, either way. “Yes, me,” he snarled. “What the slag is that supposed to mean?”

“I merely didn’t take you for the creative type. Consider my assumption corrected.”

Ugh. Whatever. Sunstreaker rolled his optics, but there was a question Megatron had smoothly not answered. “What the slag do you want? If it’s not something worthwhile, get out.”

“I think you can guess,” Megatron rumbled, and now he moved, coming onto the berth and pushing Sunstreaker down onto his back while at it. 

Sideswipe said nothing and did nothing, but Sunstreaker could feel his curl of amusement, and growled at that as well as the treatment Megatron was giving him. “You think you can just walk in when the frag you please, and frag me when the slag you please?” he hissed at the tyrant, bringing his legs between the two of them and kicking with full force.

Megatron probably saw that coming, though, and merely intercepted his pedes before they could make contact with his chassis, and from there it was an easy thing to spread Sunstreaker’s legs and position himself between them.

And then they were there all over again, with Sunstreaker’s thighs spread wide around the tyrant’s hips. He… Couldn’t say he exactly minded the position. His engine revved, but it was just out of anger, not from anything else. Certainly not.

“With how into it you are,” Megatron said, and Sunstreaker bared his denta at him—at the truth in those words, “I think the answer is yes.”

Bastard. Primus damned Pit reject–

Whose servo had come to cup his valve cover. 

That was unfortunate with how much it managed to distract him from his internal chewing of both Megatron and Sideswipe, who had upgraded from just amusement to outright giggling in their spark. And his smile, even on the outside of his frame, had fragging widened pretty noticeably.

Even if he didn’t remove his optics from his datapad.

So. Right. Megatron’s claws were digging into the seams of his lower panel again, a clear threat. What had happened to his cover last time? There was no reason why that couldn’t happen again. 

But as last time, he had no reason to retract the damn cover. No Autobots to hold secrets from, and frag, what was it but a little pain and a trip to Hook? It was the principle of things.

He stared the tyrant in the optic and kept the cover closed. Megatron didn’t look surprised by that, and didn’t waste time trying to coax him into cooperation either. The claws dug in, and the panel was torn away. 

Sunstreaker’s hips jerked at the sting, but he didn’t avert his gaze any more than Megatron did, and he made no sound. What a fragging staring contest it became, with Sideswipe silently chortling to the side and Megatron’s thick, thick digits slipping into his valve with little fanfare.

But it could’ve been his spike too, and without preparation he would have definitely felt that. As ever, though, Megatron was courteous enough to finger fuck him first, and Sunstreaker… Didn’t make particular effort to keep his hips from pressing back into every thrust of the warlord’s servo.

“As I said,” Megatron growled, “Into it.”

“Slag right off you self righteous little prick,” Sunstreaker snarled back, shoving his hips onto the digits penetrating him. Megatron rumbled in amusement, but took that as a sign that he was ready enough, and the digits were replaced by a spike with minimal delay.

And as he already well knew, it was a spike with enough girth to pulverize the unprepared. Sunstreaker wasn’t unprepared, though, and his back merely arched as Megatron pushed into him, taking his fragging time with it until Sunstreaker’s vents were blowing hot air. Impatient, he reached down and caught the tyrant’s hips, but Megatron took no heed of his demand and kept his pace agonizingly slow.

He was going to glitch at this rate. 

“The frag’s gotten into you?” he grumbled, jerking his hips towards Megatron, but to a very limited effect. “‘Face me, you slagging wussie. Or did you forget how, all of a sudden?”

“So demanding,” was the growl he got in return, but finally Megatron shoved all the way inside. From his first set of calipers to the very last, there was the stretch and the fullness caused by a spike that could provide some fantastic results when used correctly—like Optimus had never known how to do.

And apparently Megatron had forgotten how to, too. Sunstreaker’s engine roared in utter frustration when Megatron didn’t get it going right away, just circled his hips in a way that yeah, didn’t feel bad, actually felt pretty nice–

But it wasn’t what he fragging wanted.

“For Primus’ sake, let me show you how it’s done,” he growled, shoving at Megatron’s shoulder, hard, in what he thought was a clear enough indication that he wanted to swap places. Somewhat.

He honestly hadn’t expected it to work. Megatron didn’t exactly seem like the type to take requests in berth—or anywhere else, for that matter—but the tyrant humored him. That was all it was, because his field flared with amusement he made no effort to contain, but whatever. It got Sunstreaker what he wanted, that was good enough.

Namely, Megatron rolled them over without ever removing his spike, until he was on his back and Sunstreaker atop him, straddling his hips.

There. That was better.

“Well?” Megatron spoke up, raising his optical ridges at him—challenge, if he ever saw one. “How is it done?”

Sunstreaker’s engine rumbled in annoyance, but he would fragging well teach the damn mech a lesson. “You don’t deserve this,” he hissed before he pushed himself up on his knees, relishing in the drag of Megatron’s spike across all of his primed sensors—then a drop down, his back arching as the tyrant’s length struck deep, colliding with his ceiling node in a fucking good mix of pleasure and pain.

Rinse and repeat, but faster, and frag, maybe Sunstreaker hadn’t ridden a spike a hell of a lot in his lifetime, but Sideswipe sure had. Sunstreaker recalled those memories now, planting his servos on the warlord’s chestplates and using the damn mech’s damn spike without a trace of care for Megatron himself.

Return the favor, no?

But it didn’t matter. Megatron’s engine was revving with his own arousal, because as much as Sunstreaker did this for himself, as much as every rise and every drop, every twist and jerk of his hips was for him… It wasn’t as if it wasn’t going to feel good to the owner of the spike as well. 

A bit of a downside, but he could live with that if he got his overload out of this.

Of course, Megatron just couldn’t let it go on like that, couldn’t let him have the say. His servos found their way to his hips, and though they at first only rested there… They soon tightened their hold until it was testing the integrity of his armor, and having his hips caved in to grind against the joints underneath… Well, that would be a smidge unpleasant.

That wasn’t relevant, though, because long before he would’ve gotten crushed to that extent, Megatron had already overpowered him by the grace of his larger frame, and there was little Sunstreaker could do to fight the grip even if it wasn’t yet denting him all the way. Megatron took hold of him like that until Sunstreaker was snarling all over again, suspended a little above the tyrant’s hips.

Megatron spoke up before he could say anything, “I think I got the point.”

Had he really?

He had, if what he did next was anything to go by. Because Megatron raised him, and didn’t just let him drop down, but slammed him down onto his spike, and Sunstreaker couldn’t silence his groan at the sheer violence of the move. 

And it only repeated. Megatron showed all of his strength by maneuvering Sunstreaker’s frame like he weighed nothing, up and down, fast and hard, until the ached in the best fucking way. “Yesssss,” he hissed through clenched denta, loving every savage entry into his frame. His digits flexed and clenched against Megatron’s chestplates, and pits but he wished he still had his claws that he could’ve sunk into the gaps of the tyrant’s armor–

But he would just have to make do with some assisting tools.

Sunstreaker reached for his subspace in a flash, pulled out one of his knives before anyone but Sideswipe would’ve had the time to react—and Sideswipe didn’t react–

And fragging buried that thing in one upward thrust through Megatron’s throat and as deep into his helm as he could push it.

Sideswipe didn’t react.

Megatron growled, a sound coming from both his vocalizer and from deep in his frame, vibrating his plating and Sunstreaker’s armor and insides by extension. Sunstreaker shivered, but didn’t tear his optics from the warlord.

Megatron removed one of his servos from his hip to bring it up instead, taking a hold of the handle of the knife Sunstreaker had abandoned, and pulling it out in one simple motion. He showed no signs of pain despite the gush of fluids that followed the blade out of the hole it had made. “If that was an attempt at damaging me, it was rather pathetic,” Megatron rumbled, tossing the dirtied knife to the side—towards Sideswipe, who caught it midair and stored it in his own subspace.

That didn’t matter. What mattered was Megatron’s smoldering optics on him and his claws digging painfully into his hip. “Maybe it wasn’t,” Sunstreaker returned in a snarl, then struck, digging his digits into the wound the knife had left behind.

Still Megatron didn’t react in any way that would have suggested pain, and Sunstreaker’s spark pulsed just that bit more urgently. Megatron did react by grabbing his wrists, both of them, and flipping them back around until it was Sunstreaker whose back collided with the berth, his servos swiftly pressed to either side of his helm by the tyrant. With Megatron firmly between his legs still, he found himself rather thoroughly pinned, and… What? At the mercy of the mech he had just stabbed? A mech not known for his forgiving nature?

His vents blasted searing air, twice so when Megatron began to move, and now, now he was going at it for real. More than that, even. The thrusts, they were on this side of pain, not pleasure, and he shouldn’t have liked it, he really, really shouldn’t have liked it…

But Sunstreaker arched into every brutal invasion of his frame, barely silencing his vocalizer from producing sounds that wouldn’t have been as much those of pain as they should’ve been.

Megatron didn’t say anything, though. The tyrant’s optics bore into him and his engine was growling, and some of it might’ve been anger, but he didn’t speak. What did that mean? That Sunstreaker got away with his actions? This time?  

“What do you plan to do with the sparkling?” he managed to ask—gasp—between one thrust and the next, staring hard at Megatron. His gaze was met with a burning one that focused just that bit further with his question.

All remained silent but for the clash of their frames and the roar and rev of their engines for a good while before Megatron grunted and seemed to decide he might as well answer. How nice of him. “I may as well take this chance to see if it could become a worthy heir. I had never planned for it, but opportunities are made to be seized.”

Heir? And what would he receive? A faction?  

No, that couldn’t be it. “Cybertron?” Sunstreaker asked, just one word, but he was sure they both knew what he meant.

Megatron wanted Cybertron for himself, that was what the whole war was about. If he managed that… Would it be what he gave his heir, once the time came to switch the powers that be?

“I will mount the Prime’s head on my wall,” Megatron growled, and now there was true hatred that dripped from his voice and field, “and build a new world free of the corruption of the Primacy. That is what I will leave behind.”

He punctuated his words with a thrust even harder than the rest, and Sunstreaker came, overload hitting him without warning and arching him off the berth. Charge crackled across his plating and arced into Megatron, and with a deep rumble the tyrant was pulled over the edge too, his release only lengthening Sunstreaker’s. His valve was greeted with increased wetness, and here he was again, destined to drip before he’d cleaned himself out. 

They were both venting hard in the aftermath, but Sunstreaker wasn’t thoroughly distracted from the topic at hand. Neither was Megatron, if the calculating look in his optics was anything to go by.

Sunstreaker met his gaze, as he had at every damn point of this meeting. “How can you be sure they’ll be deserving of that much?” Not everyone was fit to rule a whole damn planet, and frankly, passing the rule to your creation just because they were your creation seemed a bit foolish. 

Megatron inclined his helm and acknowledged that. “I can’t, and I will lose no sleep if they aren’t to be the next ruler of the Cybertron I’ll build. But I will give them the chance to prove themselves.”

So that was it. That was the future Megatron had planned for Sunstreaker’s sparkling. It was… He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have considered it a possibility, coming from Megatron. Couldn’t say he wouldn’t have hoped it was what Megatron wanted of it. 

What could the Autobots have offered it? What could he have offered it if he’d turned Neutral and went on the run? The Autobots would have demonized it, there was little doubt on his mind about that, and the life of a vagabond Neutral was a life of hardship. What could either of those have given it?

What were those futures in comparison to what Megatron was willing to offer it? To stand behind him as the next successor to Cybertron’s throne, be groomed for that role from the beginning, and if he proved worthy… It would be Sunstreaker’s sparkling that became the next leader of their species. 

The Autobots, though, they would aim to take all of that away from it, because it was Megatron who was the sire—Megatron who could provide those things to it. If the Prime won… What was there for him and his brother, nevermind the sparklet? How would the Autobots treat them, if they didn’t outright demand their execution for their desertion and the events that had led up to it? 

Megatron was the future. At least for the sparkling. But what about Sunstreaker? Starscream had said he’d be cast aside, Megatron had said he had the option to stay if he wanted a part in the sparkling’s life, Onslaught had suggested he would meet a worse fate if he was no good as anything more than a carrier… 

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He’d never needed anyone’s help in his whole fragging life, and that wasn’t going to change. Whatever Megatron thought would happen to him would only happen if Sunstreaker allowed it, and if he didn’t… He’d find a way out of it. He always did. He would carve his own path through life, damned be the war, damned be the factions, damned be the ones who struggled for the leadership of their kind. They were all irrelevant if he so chose.

Would he choose that?

Or would he rather have a role in his sparkling’s life, even through the future its sire was willing to give it?

That… He would need to decide on later. He wasn’t ready to dedicate himself to any course of action yet, not before he saw more of how things were going to unfold from here on out.

Megatron was looking at, studying his expression. There wasn’t likely to be much to read, but his thoughts having reached a conclusion, Sunstreaker nodded his understanding of Megatron’s words. Heir, if it became worth it.

Leaving the Autobots had been the right choice. They could have given it nothing but judgement and misery.

Megatron nodded back at him, and just like that, they seemed to have reached an understanding—a common goal of sorts, both of them looking to provide the most to their little accident. They could agree on that much.

And that was all. Sunstreaker shuddered when the tyrant pulled out of him, leaving him pouring fluids onto the berth. Megatron cleaned his spike with a few motions before tucking it away and inclining his helm at him—them, because his optics flicked to Sideswipe too. “It was a pleasure.”

Right. “Have that throat fixed,” Sunstreaker smirked, pushing himself to sitting. Megatron glared at him, but something… Something gave him the feeling there wasn’t a hell of a lot of real emotion behind it.

With that Megatron left the room, leaving them alone again. Sideswipe finally put his game away and rolled to sit on the berth too, resting his arms on his knees. “This is pretty good,” he said, tilting his helm. He didn’t need to say what he was referring to.

It had never been too big of a gamble to leave the Autobots, and really, staying just hadn’t been a real option, but this… This confirmed the rightness of their actions. If Megatron had spoken the truth anyway, but what reason did he have to lie? It wasn’t as if Sunstreaker had the power to do anything about whatever the tyrant had planned for their offspring. The scale just wasn’t positioned that evenly. 

“About the war, though…” Sideswipe continued, more quietly. And… Yeah, that was a bit of a problem. Everything would be fine and dandy if Megatron won, but if the Autobots did instead?

What then?

“Should we fight anyway?” his brother went on to ask.

Should they? For the future of the sparkling? Really complete their defection and turn against their former comrades? Kill them? For Megatron’s victory?

No doubt that would have pleased the tyrant greatly, but…

Pits.

“I don’t know,” was the only answer Sunstreaker had.

( Next )

[tf-tere]

A Fallen Star - 4

(I feel the need to make this clear...Starfall is a sparkling. 

Like many children, she has a bit of an overblown idea of what she can accomplish. 

Look, just because I thought I was Batman as a kid didn't make my decision to jump off the playground wearing a cape any less likely to end in a painful face plant. Just saying. Anywho, enjoy a dose of fluff. And the seeds of coming angst.

Words: ~ 2600) It was becoming more difficult to remind herself that the Autobots were the enemy. They’d saved her, fixed her wing, and she actually liked their organic allies. None of them were fliers and they had no reason to offer her comfortable quarters… so why had one of them, someone, painted the ceiling of her new room to look like the sky? It wasn’t a great paint job, but they’d made an effort.

 Starfall huffed and sat up on her new berth, turning over to lie on her cockpit so she couldn’t see the painted ceiling. She didn’t want to like these Autobots. What would her carrier say if he could see her now? 

A choked noise escaped the sparkling before she pressed her face down into the berth. During the day it was easier to keep her processor occupied. But now, alone and trying to recharge? The spark crushing sorrow tried to swamp her; her processor dragging up the image of the greyed frame at the control panel. She couldn’t think of it as her carrier. Her carrier had been vibrant and full of energy. That thing had just been a… husk. 

After a few minutes trying, and failing, to push back the grief, Starfall sat up. She knew slipping into recharge when her processor was all tangled in these memories would lead to a bad flux. The last thing she needed was another of those. So she decided to test what Ratchet had told her when she’d been shown to her new quarters. He’d claimed that she wasn’t a prisoner, and so the door would not be locked. Of course, he’d also explained that could be changed if she used their trust to start trouble. Honestly, she wasn’t looking to start trouble. Starfall just wanted to walk around until she was too exhausted to think and could recharge in peace. 

The door to her quarters opened soundlessly. Starfall stuck her head out of the narrow opening and quickly looked up and down the hallway. All was quiet and the lights were dimmed. She automatically turned up the sensitivity in her own optics to compensate. The sparkling carefully slid the rest of her frame out of the doorway and closed it softly behind herself. She was tense, expecting some sort of alarm to go off. But this was just… quiet. 

Starfall hesitated before starting to walk. She had no real destination, just a desire to move until she could fall back into recharge. Something in the back of her processor obviously had different plans, because she soon found herself standing in the entryway to the main part of the base. Where the elevator was located. Miko had told her about the elevator and Starfall felt a familiar pang of need to see the sky. She had been stuck in here for cycles now! Normally a cycle didn’t go by without her seeing the sky or outer space. It made part of her processor feel like it was… itchy. 

She could walk over and use that elevator device to go outside, see the sky and feel the wind. But unlike the rest of the base she’d been wandering through, this room was not empty. Ratchet was sitting in front of the computer, obviously working on something. Starfall knew she was skilled; her carrier had often praised her and obviously she was a match for any Autobot that might dare to stand in her path. But where would she go? Even if she did defeat Ratchet and escape, she had no idea where the Decepticons on this planet were located. The thought of slowly starving until she deactivated, alone, was something that sent chills through her frame. She’d been too close to that once already. 

There was the option of just turning around and continuing her rambles elsewhere since Ratchet hadn’t noticed her presence yet. But now that she’d seen him, she didn’t feel like wandering alone through the hallways anymore. 

Starfall walked toward Ratchet, only hesitating for a moment when he looked up at her approach. It wasn’t like she was trying to sneak up on him. Or cause trouble. 

“What are you doing up? You should be recharging.” He didn’t even have the decency to turn off the computer and give her his undivided attention. Starfall had to push back the desire to do something mean spirited just to get a real reaction out of the old grounder. 

“Can’t recharge.” She muttered, crossing her arms and standing far enough away that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck far to look at him. Even with Ratchet sitting on some silly, improvised chair he was still much taller than her. 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” At least now he had turned slightly to acknowledge her. Ratchet’s expression looked like a strange combination of knowing and concerned. 

Starfall took a moment to consider the difference in the words before shaking her head slightly. “Can’t.” 

“Huh.” Ratchet rubbed at his eyes for a moment. “Well, I can see if I have som-”

“What are you doing up?” She interrupted, curious and only a little disappointed that she didn’t have free run of the base. 

Ratchet huffed, looking at her with narrowed optics. “I don’t need as much recharge as a sparkling. And someone has to keep watch on the monitors.”

 “Sounds boring.”

“It is.” He made those two words sound so tired. 

Starfall quickly walked over and clambered up into the medic’s lap before he could protest. She didn’t like the old grounder, but seeing him sitting alone just like she was alone felt… wrong. It didn’t mean anything. “Maybe you can tell me about it and bore me into recharge.” 

Ratchet stared down at her, face contorting through several emotions before he sighed. “I can’t decide if I should be insulted. Fine.”

The sparkling grinned and settled more comfortably, looking at the screens as the medic began to explain. At least this would keep her processor occupied.

~

Optimus stepped into the main room of the base and stopped, silently taking in the scene before him. Ratchet was seated at the computer monitors, his head tilted back and optics offlined. Optimus had been telling him for days that he needed more recharge, but the medic was stubborn. Finding Ratchet recharging at his station would have been amusing enough, but that wasn’t everything. 

Starfall was curled up on Ratchet’s lap, shifted over enough that her wings could hang off the side of his left leg. The top of her head was almost pressed against his knee guard. The sparkling was obviously deep in recharge as well, small frame limp. 

While he was pleased to see some progress being made with getting to know the sparkling, he also wanted to send Ratchet to his quarters for rest. Optimus had come to relieve the medic from his monitoring duty. He also didn’t want to startle the sparkling awake. After a moment of thought he stepped closer to the pair. Neither stirred. Optimus reached down and carefully lifted up Starfall’s small form. As he’d hoped, she didn’t react to the gentle motion. Once a sparkling was in recharge they tended to stay that way unless truly disturbed. 

Ratchet, on the other servo, woke with a start. He had survived millenia of war by being aware of the slightest disturbance. The medic relaxed when he noticed it was just Optimus, smiling gently down at him as the large Autobot cradled the little sparkling. 

“Optimus, don’t startle me like that.” He tried to sound gruff, but Ratchet’s face flushed slightly with energon. Embarrassed because he’d been caught recharging on duty? Or because he’d been caught in a cute moment with their orphaned sparkling? 

“My apologies. I wanted to move Starfall to ensure she was not woken.” Optimus kept his tone warm, approving. 

Ratchet stood, wincing as he stretched a bit. “Yes. Well. I can take her back to her quarters before finding my own berth.” He grumbled after a moment. 

Optimus carefully transferred Starfall into Ratchet’s servos. He paused and stroked a digit along her back. The plating was smooth and warm. “Why was she up?”

“Having trouble recharging, apparently. I think she was probably testing out her new freedom and having a look around.” 

“At least she felt safe enough to recharge with you.” Optimus said, straightening up to his full height. “I had worried she would be more trouble.”

Ratchet snorted and gave the recharging form in his servos a stern look. “Less to do with trust than exhaustion, Optimus. She’s not refueling properly, though I can’t figure out how or why!”

Optimus set a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I have faith that you’ll be able to get through to her, old friend. Starfall has been through a lot in a very short amount of time. She needs your support and patience.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The medic grumbled to himself as he turned to leave. 

~

The best part of the day, without a doubt, was when Miko, Raf, and Jack came from school. Starfall spent most of the days in her quarters, where she could be left alone. Bumblebee and Bulkhead weren’t so bad, but they looked at her with concern and pity. It made her plating crawl. And Ratchet was always just… watching. Like he knew when she was planning to get into some little mischief. Starfall could barely be in a room with Arcee without trading glares or barbed comments. They hadn’t warmed up to each other since their first meeting. And Optimus… made her uncomfortable. Not because being around him was bad, but because something in her spark told her she could trust him. And she didn’t trust that feeling. 

It was clear that the organics-humans- were sparklings-children- like she was, so there was no need to feel looked down on. Literally and figuratively. Only Jack was close to her height, and Starfall had the strangest feeling she was actually a little taller than him now. Hadn’t they been the same height when she first met them? No matter, it was nice not to be the shortest person around. 

They took delight in teaching her about earth things. It made communicating with them easier. She did have to check with Jack and Raf about some things. On occasion, Miko would tell her things that were lies just to mess with her. Starfall didn’t mind, she told lies about Cybertronians to the girl so she’d have to check with Bulkhead too. 

It was Miko that Starfall spent the most time with. The girl was fun to hang out with and had some wonderful ideas for pranks. Their guardians didn’t approve, but neither seemed bothered by that. 

“So explain to me again what the point of this is?” Starfall looked from the bucket in Miko’s hands to the metal beam high up by the ceiling. 

“The point is that it will be hilarious. You don’t understand, you can never get rid of glitter. It will haunt you like the ghosts of your regrets.” Despite the slightly dark wording, Miko was grinning brightly up at Starfall. 

Starfall huffed and glared up at the metal beam. “Fine, but how are we going to get it up there?”

Miko reached up and tugged on one of Starfall’s wings suddenly. The sparkling hissed and quickly pulled the appendage away, taking several steps back from the human. “Hey! Those are sensitive!!” In fact, they’d been getting more and more sensitive over the cycles- days. Over the days. 

“Sorry.” Miko shrugged a bit. “But you have wings, why don’t you use them and fly the bucket up there? I’ve attached fishing wire to it so we can pull it down without anyone noticing until it’s too late.”

Starfall lightly touched the edge of her wing, feeling the itchy twitches starting up again. She sighed and looked away from Miko. “I still can’t really fly. I mean, you’ve seen me try. Ratchet said I’m not allowed to keep practicing inside.” She huffed out again and crossed her arms. “Not that they’ve let me outside since I got here.” 

Miko reached out to place a hand lightly on Starfall’s arm. “I’m sorry, Starfall. Hey, what if you held onto the wall? You know, for stability! Then you wouldn’t fly in circles and crash.” “I didn’t crash.” Starfall snapped out between clenched denta. “Riiiight. Well, wanna give this a try?” She held up the bucket, wiggling it back and forth. “Or are you scared…?”

Starfall snatched the bucket from the girl, still careful not to hurt Miko with her claws. “I can do it!” She stomped over to the closest wall and shot a glare back at her friend. “And I didn’t crash.” 

Perhaps it had been rash to claim she could get up there. But Starfall couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as weak or scared. It didn’t matter if it was true, people could use those things against you. She had to be strong, like her carrier had been. That thought helped steady her. 

Starfall dangled the bucket off one arm by the handle and carefully dug her claws into the wall. It wasn’t too difficult to force them into the concrete. She kept the power from her thrusters just high enough to give her a little lift. No need to try and show off for Miko. It was going alright, keeping one servo full of claws in the wall and reaching up with the next, until Miko decided to tease her. 

“You know, maybe the problem is that you don’t fly right.” The human girl was sitting cross legged on the floor, obviously having gotten bored with watching Starfall’s slow progress.

“Like you would know?!” Starfall spat the words over her shoulder, wings trembling. 

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen another seeker fly. And he doesn’t fly like that. Actually, I’ve only ever seen him fly as, like, a proper plane. Never when he had feet.” Miko was grinning brightly up at her.

“Pedes.” She growled out. If Starfall had to learn the human words for things, she figured her friends should return the favor. “They’re called pedes, not feet. You have feet. Useless feet.” 

She had let go of the wall with one servo so she could turn to properly glare down at Miko. Starfall felt herself unbalance, wobbling as she tried to stabilize her thrusters beneath herself again. Instinct made her flare her wings, trying to use them to keep herself upright, but the sensors were glitching. They weren’t processing data correctly. 

Instead of straightening and moving back against the wall, Starfall found herself spinning away. Her other servo was ripped free from the concrete as she lost control. Everything twisted in a blur of colors, limbs flailing before she slammed into something solid. Starfall yelped when her cockpit hit the wall. Her thrusters cut out and she fell hard to the ground, just missing landing on one of her wings. 

“Starfall!” Miko had rushed to her side. 

The sparkling pushed herself up, tossing the now empty bucket away. “Ugh.” Starfall wasn’t sure what was worse, the injury to her pride or the fact that she was now coated in purple and pink glitter. 

“You’re not hurt?” It sounded like Miko had swallowed something that was trying to get back out. Her face was turning red as she slapped a hand over her mouth. 

Starfall narrowed her optics and stood, shaking herself as best she could. Nothing but a few minor dents. “Don’t you dare tell Ratchet!” She snapped, feeling angry. Angry was easier than hurt or scared.

“Whoa, whoa.” Miko raised her hands, chuckling slightly. “I won’t say a thing.” 

“Good.” Starfall turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, trailing glitter as she headed to try and wash off the worst of this gunk. She needed a minute alone to gather her thoughts and emotions. What if… what if there was something wrong? What was a seeker that couldn’t fly?

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #359

Top Ten Future Transformers Spin-Offs

So I finally went to see Bumblebee, the delightful, charming, and utterly loveable Transformers spin-off/prequel from Travis Knight. It’s a great little film, on a much smaller scale than the other films in the series, offering some beautifully retro Amblin vibes whilst telling a more compelling and characterful story full of warmth, heart, and genuinely good performances. And as a great big Transformers fan (is there no Transformers equivalent of Trekkie or Browncoat I can adopt?) I got a huge thrill from the recreation of war-torn Cybertron, straight from the iconography of the classic ‘80s cartoon series. I spent the first ten minutes just cooing and bubbling, going “Look! Wheeljack! And Arcee! And Ratchet! And Soundwave! And Shockwave! And Ravage!” and so on.

Anyway, I think the film is all kinds of great, and captures the spirit of the brand and the stories much better (in my opinion) than the Michael Bay ones do. But if one spin-off could succeed where the “mainline” films failed, could that trick be repeated? And this got me thinking: what other stories and characters are ripe for the big-screen treatment? Where else can Transformers go cinematically, without doing any kind of real follow-up to The Last Knight?

Here, then, are ten suggestions. Rather than proposing any kind of reboot or reimagining of the property, I've tried to find stories that could exist within the loose canon of the movies (which, to be fair, is a fairly shifting proposition anyway, with several movies contradicting one another in large and small ways). So, inspired by my love of the original characters, and often by stories I’ve read in the meantime, and with the potentially large caveat that I’ve still not seen The Last Knight and therefore might actually be retreading story grooves already worn, here are ten suggestions for possible future Transformers spin-off movies.

Megatron: Dawn of the Decepticons: drawing heavily from both IDW’s Megatron: Origin and More Than Meets the Eye, this will be a biopic, essentially, of tyrannical baddie Big Megs. Although I know there’s a strong influence from The Fallen in Cinemegatron’s backstory, I don’t see how we can’t square this with the portrayal developed primarily by James Roberts. Megatron is a miner, struggling under a brutal regime on an off-world energon mine, who has the strength and smarts to lift himself and his co-workers out of bondage. But will he remain true to his principles or follow the advice of a mysterious old ‘bot (who turns out to be The Fallen)? Basically the tragic tale of a charismatic working-class leader breaking bad and becoming a monster. Could feature an Optimus Prime cameo – maybe as Orion Pax?

Last Stand of the Wreckers: a moderately-straight adaptation of the Nick Roche/James Roberts classic, one of the most beloved Transformers series of all time. Instead of Bumblebee’s delightful whimsy and Megatron’s tragic drama, this is a straight-up war movie. Obviously it’d have to be tweaked from the comic: no more Garrus-9 or Decepticon Purge. Perhaps tweak the last third to be a bit more like Rogue One or Seven Samurai; the Autobots decide to stay, and die, for a cause. I’d put some more mainstream ‘bots on the team, from the original cartoon and movie. Perhaps it could, like Bumblebee, even be set on Earth in the past, and end up being a story covered up by both the Autobots and Sector 7? That way you’d make it cheaper by having more humans and a little less CG. But the basic gist – an Autobot black ops squad is sent on a mission that goes very badly wrong and most if not all of them die whilst trying to work out what it means to be an Autobot in the midst of this war – should remain the same.

Windblade : whilst I don’t necessarily think the movieverse should adopt the “Thirteen Colonies” storyline from the comics – and I definitely don’t think they should adopt the “all the girls left” sausage-fest fudge that was required after Arcee was declared the “only” female Transformer, especially as Arcee herself and newcomer Shatter both feature in Bumblebee – I do  like the idea of Windblade as some kind of ambassador or diplomat, travelling the universe. Perhaps she left Cybertron before the war really escalated (with besties Chromia and Nautica too, natch) to pursue peace elsewhere? Part flashback to pre-war Cybertron, part  return-to-Earth narrative, it would be a great opportunity to focus on the often-sidelined female Transformers and  have a positive feminist message. I’d have them team up with a now-adult Charlie and her estranged daughter... Verity Carlo. The baddies should be combiners, to go with the “Combiner Hunters” toy set.

Beast Wars: at the risk of causing controversy, I wouldn’t make this a straight adaptation of the popular cartoon. Not unless they want to meddle in far-flung futures or alternate timelines (although, er, see below...). Rather, I’d introduce the concept of “Beast Modes” that mimic organic creatures perfectly (like the “pretender” Decepticon in Revenge of the Fallen that looks like a sexy human girl, because of course she does). So my pitch is this: a lonely Autobot scientist, on a research ship that has more-or-less escaped the war (let’s make him Perceptor, for kicks) has developed this “beast mode” technology that hides Transformers in organic shells. His ship is attacked by Decepticons, but he rockets his subjects into space where they follow Prime’s signal and eventually land on Earth, befriending a young boy (younger than Sam or Charlie; let’s say about 12). But Decepticon hunters (I’d go for Carnivac, Snarler and Catilla – who later has a change of heart – all of whom have inorganic beast modes) follow. So it would share similar tropes with Bumblebee and the first Transformers, but with three or four cute animals instead of robots. This would skew young, perhaps even younger than Bumblebee.

Rodimus Prime: I know Hot Rod is in The Last Knight, but from what I hear he isn’t really representative of the character of Hot Rod/Rodimus from across other aspects of Transformers fiction. Regardless, this film isn’t about him: it’s about Rodimus Prime. Set in the future, it tells a Next Generation-style story of a human/Autobot alliance. Very much a sci-fi space opera, it would feature Rodimus going on a quest to discover the roots of a mysterious force that is attacking human colonies, and its apart links to an ancient Transformer legend. But is he abandoning Earth at its darkest hour to go on a wild goose chase through space? Rodimus must battle his own self-doubt as a leader, as well as a growing number of humans and Transformers who question the alliance. It would have a similar tone to your average Star Wars movie.

Wreck-Gar: Transformers films often have funny moments, but you’d never call any of them a comedy. Wreck-Gar is a comedy, Deadpool-style (but without the filth). A severely-damaged Transformer who crashes to Earth no memory and manages to rebuild himself in a junkyard, Wreck-Gar is a crazy, pop-culture-spouting dervish who just trashes every room he’s in, even though he’s not malicious or a bad guy. Indeed, he is chased by a trio of Decepticons (Swindle, Brawl, and Vortex) who are cruel and unusual (and Swindle wants recompense for a deal gone wrong). An all-out wacky comedy is something not often attempted by big-budget action movies; I’d even go whole hog and get Ward and Miller on board to shepherd the humour to the screen.

Starscream: we’re always focusing on the good guys! Well, here you go: a story about a bot who’s born to be bad. Starscream would be set in the past (naturally, since he’s dead now) and follows Megatron’s least-reliable lieutenant as he heads to Earth to look for Megatron during the time when he was in stasis underneath the Hoover Dam. I can’t remember the chronology, but maybe this could even be set in the late 70s/early 80s, with Starscream  assuming a jet form more like his classic toy (and in that colour scheme, too). He’d be conniving, plotting, scheming, and essentially coming across like a giant metal version of Loki. Perhaps he’s playing a number of human “allies” off against one another, as well as some big Decepticons (Thunderwing? Tarn? Who haven’t we seen yet?) and even a troupe of Autobots he double-crosses. It could be darkly comic and incredible fun.

Hearts of Steel: Wild West Transformers! I mean, what’s not to love? Adapted from the IDW comic series (which was supposed to be out-of-continuity, but was so popular that writer John Barber retroactively incorporated it into the main Transformers timeline), this would need a bit of manipulation to change characters around (I don’t think Bumblebee should be in it, but given the often-contradictory nature of the movie timeline, I don’t see why we couldn’t bring back characters like Jazz, Ironhide, or maybe even Optimus himself). A rollicking steampunk adventure that hopefully would capture the freewheeling outback sci-fi tone of Back to the Future Part III, and hopefully not come across like another Wild Wild West.

Cybertron: I suppose this is a sort-of sequel to Megatron (see above). Set during the war, it’s a men-on-a-mission movie starring a young Optimus Prime (perhaps he could still be Orion Pax at this point). I don’t think we should worry too much about mythologies and intricacies of Transformer society the way James Roberts depicted it, but all the same they could do a lot worse than adapting his Shadowplay storyline, where Orion lead a team of misfit Autobots in an illegal heist to save the world. That kid of behind-enemy-lines vibe could give us a great Cybertronian war movie without wallowing in the grimdark explodey nature of Transformer combat. But especially if this was the movie where Orion earned his stripes and officially became Optimus, that might be nice. Like Megatron, of course, this would end up being an entirely CG affair.

Bumblebee 2: Energon Boogaloo? Look, the ending of the film – without wanting to give away spoilers – could be seen as neatly segueing into the 2007 Transformers film. One could imagine no additional adventurous meetings between Bumblebee and Charlie.  But on the other hand, let’s not rule it out. Perhaps Bumblebee has been on Earth, dicking around, since 1987, and during that time he got up to more mischief with his first best human friend. Some covert Decepticon invasion requires him to break cover, or he needs some kind of human contact to spy for him, and oh look he goes back to Charlie. I’d skip forward a little bit, to around ‘91 or ‘92, slap a bit of early grunge on the soundtrack. See what happens. Just bring back Travis Knight.

So there we are. My ideas for ten possible Transformers spin-off movies. I didn’t really intend for this to turn into ten pitches with little mini-synopses; it was really meant to just be a quick fun game of “stories or characters who’d make a cool movie” but then I thought about it too hard, as I tend to do where Transformers is concerned. Hey, look, some of these films could even tie together! Megatron and Cybertron especially, but you could scatter seeds of stories or references among the lot. Anyway. Wishful thinking. But hopefully a film like one of these will roll out before too long (see what I did there?).

[levelrazearts]

Now that some new transformers figures have been revealed, I think I'll go ahead and talk about all or most of it cause the more of it that I saw, the more interested I actually got.

Studio Series

Deluxe Tlk Drift, wow this guy looks good, from a paint standing. I still think the mold is kinda bad, and that they can definitely do better, but I'll admit they did a good job of making me want him, especially since he comes with BABY DINOS. I will for sure get him for those, and maybe update that custom voyager with the head of this guy if I want to. Otherwise I'll keep him on the secondary movie display. Also if the display is truely as big as it looks, then I'll be happy with that too.

War For Cybertron: Seige

Held off on talking about these cause I wanted to see if we would get any cons and low and behold, we got'em.

Deluxe:

Sideswipe, he looks good, a little to Earthy of a v-mode to convince me that it's Cybertronian, but I might get him. Damage paint is meh for me on all of these guys if I'll be honest so I'd probably paint them up to be not damage just saying.

Red Alert, cute boy, precious. Will get.

Hound, yes. He is a yes. Cause he looks awesome. And actually looks Cybertronian. Might get two just to show off that v-mode cause dang that's a good look.

Cog, I'll get him to stand with my Fortress Maximus, and that's it. I do think he looks great, just don't know to much about him and thus not overly excited I guess. Weapon ability thing is kinda cool.

Flywheels (Skytread), he lools good, might get him. Color scheme is very nice and he's different than the usual figure in that he has two seperate v-modes, and 1 bot mode kinda like Overlord. So yeah, maybe.

Chromia, can we please not use the Moonracer mold? It doesn't look good and needs to be reworked. Granted it's been retooled for her, namely in the feet, I still don't think having 3 rather iconic characters look the same aside from face and gun is a good idea. A skip for sure, would probably pick up the Thrilling 30 deluxe over this.

Ironhide, PLEASE GIVE ME A RATCHET RETOOL. Also YES. This guy is gorgeous, v-mode could use another panel or two but he's otherwise perfect. Definite yes on getting him.

Refraktor (Reflector), idk yet. On the one hand, get three and you can form the camera (cute) and army build, on the other, that would cost a lot just to do. We'll see what happens.

Brunt, OMG this guy is beautiful. Never heard of him but yes. He is a yes. Probably gonna army build with him.

Micro Masters:

All of them. They remind me of Minicons back from the days of Armada and that's true nostalgia for me so yes. Also Ravage and Laserbeak so cute.

Battle Masters: gonna add a note in that I'm not a fan of this kind of gimmick, even though I just said I love the minicons of the armada days, they at least combined to form the weapon with a true alt-mode still. These are just bleh.

Firedrive, no.

Lionizer, no.

Blowpipe, no.

Aimless, for the name alone, yes.

Voyager:

Optimus Prime, he looks really good, gotta say. Much better than recent attempts. Axe thing looks nice and he has his gun. Might pick him up, but also might not. Don't know yet.

Megatron, I really don't know. He looks good, but again, I don't know. Sword is a nice homage to the original figure.

Starscream, I might actually get this. He looks good, and the transformation looks intriguing in that the v-mode hides well. Also Tetrajet.

Soundwave, wow they got lazy with you bud, so sorry about that. I was hoping we'd get some kind of van of something similar to the first wfc Soundwave from the games, but nope, we get a walking cassette player that turns into a brick. Also he's covered in battle damage paint, which is a shame cause it covers the cassette holder as well and that's a clear piece. Will get him soley for Ravage and Laserbeak. Otherwise I'd pass on him.

There's a listing for Soundblaster on tfwiki, but since I haven't seen any official reveal I'm not gonna talk about him. Would probably pass on him anyways.

Leader:

Ultra Magnua, he keeps getting good figures. And he's not a retool of Optimus, what?! Downside imo is that he looks like he has to partsform to convert like the original toy so meh. Might get him as I missed out on the previous leader figure.

Shockwave........a voyager that turns into a leader with four arms? I guess I'll take him. Would probably keep the extra weapons off to the side but wow does he look good. Wished he transformers without the need of the extra weapons but hey, at least we got an actual Shockwave in the generations line that's a good size.

Titan Class

Omega Supreme, I'm waiting for you.

All in all, lot to talk about, whether I'll actually get any of these or not is yet tbd, but hey, this line looks promising. Being a fan of the cybertron games as well as the aesthetic and look as well, this is a good callback to them if more in a g1 cartoon sense. If any were to make it into my Cybertron game display, it'd probably be Brunt cause of the armybuilding look. Looking forward to see what they'll reveal next.

[the-energon-hole]

Hey there. Could I request hcs for Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Knockout all (separately) falling for the reader, who is Optimus's kid? And Optimus's reactions to each suitor?

((A/N I know you meant Transformers Prime in this instance, but please remember to specify your continuity as all these characters also exsist in the scope of the IDW comics, which I haven’t found time to complete yet.

It just helps so I don’ get confused and accidentally delete a request that I could have filled

Bumblebee

-So many people, both Cybertronians and Humans, treated you so much differently because of the circumstances of your birth- as you were the creation of the Archivist Orion Pax, the current Optimus Prime. Those whom didn’t even know your real name threw themselves wholly at you as a way to gain some kind of favor of the Prime, it has been that way since the day he was bestowed The Matrix of Leadership- and you hated it. The only bot that treated you with any kind of normalcy was Bumblebee, and that was why you two were so close to this day. To him, you were just his good friend and companion, not a commodity to be used to gain the favor and love of a Prime. Truthfully, you saw the sweet and loving mech as a potential mate,but you both were so young and in the throes of war, it wouldn’t be practical for the two of you to become one- at least, not yet anyway. There was still time for the two of you, there was no rush, and that was another big relief for you- as life sometimes moved to fast for your taste.

-With all this time you two spend bonding and growing, mischief is always guaranteed to follow- you were both so young and excited to explore this new world you all called home, let’s just say Agent Fowler has his work cut out for him covering up your existence tl the native human population on this planet. Sometimes you thought it was silly to be robots in disguise, but being the child of a prime, you rarely had room to disagree or go against what your creator speaks or demands. Optimus was a great caretaker, but you wish you had more room to make your own mistakes- to learn and grow on your own as Bumblebee does, but there are prying eyes from every angle, not just from Optimus either. You had such high expectations thrusted upon you from others, that when you did get into some kind of trouble, Optimus is the first on the trail to defending your actions… no matter how bad they seem, and you have made some bad ones in your short time being a part of this unwanted conflict. It’s nice for you and Bumblebee to just go out and have fun being mischievous little children, even if you are a little to old to be playing pranks and causing havoc for the small team to have to clean up.

-Optimus Prime is a bot of many titles, he has seen and heard so many pieces of information that he has enough of it to break down civilizations with nothing but his words and a little tenacity. He was not blind, and his optics could see the growing passion and love that was forming between the two of his youngest team members. He knows how hard it is for you to always be the prim and perfect creation of a prime, even though you were created long before he was even considered for the title of Prime, as some saw you as nothing more than a bargaining chip while others saw you as some kind of continuation of his incomplete legacy. It wasn’t fair to you to always have to be on his side, and it wasn’t fair to you that other wished to dictate what you should do because of your heritage- if he was honest, you couldn’t have picked a better mech to be with, as he knew Bumblebee would not only care for you fully but that he would also treat you fairly and with respect.

Smokescreen

-At first Smokescreen was like all the other bots that you have come across in your short life- overprotective and judgemental. He treated you as if you were some kind of fragile porcelain doll that could break under any kind of pressure, even if that was the farthest thing from the truth. You were well trained ad able to protect yourself from most kinds of dangers and threats that presented themselves to you- you had to be strong in the face of adversity, it looked bad on Optimus if you were a meek little thing. Once you proved yourself to the young ex-elite guards member, you could tell he was able to relax as he released a held breath that always seemed to be in his air tanks when he was around you. After that, he was a much better companion to you, treating you as an equal rather than an asset that was only there to be protected and coddled. It was the start of something very beautiful between the two of you, when he finally realized you were a very capable young bot who was on par with him when it came to skills- well everything just followed naturally after that.

-Smokescreen was actually a rather sensitive bot- mostly when it came to his own personal thoughts and feelings. You could relate to that, almost always being forced to squish your own feelings down deep in order to perform your duties to their fullest and perform adequate enough to impress your superiors. Emotions weren’t something one could factor in during a time of war- well, emotions like love and acceptance were not valid during your time of service anyway. It was hard for not only him, but also for you at times, to express how deeply you care for one another- it is going to take a lot of time and a lot of patience and a lot of understanding before the two of you are comfortable enough with one another to actually begin to show affection in front of the others. The fear of judgment is always there in the back of your mind, even if no one around you even has a negative thought to think, years of academy training for him and years of social conditioning for you have made it hard to share how you really feel- in the end no matter what anyone round the two of you say, so long as you fulfill each other and make each other happy, nothing can stand in the way of that- ranking and relatives be damned.

-Optimus Prime feels like Smokescreen would be a good match for you, simply because the two of you were young and inexperienced and have had the world thrust upon them without really having to ask for it. The inexperience you share together leads a perfect path for the two of you to learn and grow together as one, it is a way to learn empathy and love by being a companion and a constant in each others lives- though Optimus once experienced love long ago, he knows why this is an important topic. Sometimes certain things cannot be taught, they must simply be experienced- and love is one of those things. He was ecstatic with your choice in companionship, and he was overjoyed that you would get to experience these life changing feelings- even if you did not know it how to process them yet, love is what can change a bot for the better- and he believes in that power for everyone. Even if you don’t bond forever with Smokescreen, and it turns out that maybe you two will grow apart, those memories are always good. He has fond memories, and he cannot wait until you will experience something similar as well.

Knockout

-To say you were blown away by Knockout’s appearance was an understatement, he was absolutely gorgeous, but the worst part was is that he knew it. You had no idea that bots that pretty still existed in such an ugly and heinous war-to say the least, someone like him would never notice someone like you. Certainly you were the child of a prime, and that came with all kinds of inherent responsibilities to always look posh and prim, but you were in no way on the same level as Knockout. You never liked to use your rank and birth situation to any kind of advantage, as it felt immorally wrong to use your creator as an excuse to get ahead of anyone else in the world, but it almost feels like it’s the only option to get the cherry electric red mech’s attention. It made you so upset that a thought like that would buzz around your processor, because if that mech doesn’t want you than he doesn’t want you, you shouldn’t have to stoop to a low level to get someone to feel affection for you. That isn’t the kind of affection you would ever want- an artificial and wrong kind of affection, wrought with unspoken hatred and bitterness out of forcefulness from a little spark of attraction that cn be as easily snuffed out as it was to light up… No, you will try, but if he doesn’t like you than that will be just the way it is- no point in trying to change yourself to please someone- it is never worth it to be someone you aren’t to please another.

-However, unbenounced to you, it appears that he does have an optic on you- and how could he not? You were so moralistically good and pure, once something like that would have made him sick, but all the kindness and patience you have shown him- well, it makes his spark feel all warm and static on the inside. You were so wonderful inside and out- you had a nice frame and a pure spark, it was a two for the price of one, and well he was always a sucker for a good deal. He never had the opportunity to grieve for his dear Breakdown, but when you were the only one to confront him about it- it went from him being a big suave mech to a pile of blubbering mush so fast. He thought he was over his death, but he wasn’t, and instead of mocking him for being upset you allowed him to grieve in the correct way. You held him and cooed at him and told him it wasn’t his fault- all the things he needed from all the grief he let build up, you gave him an out he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get, and he appreciated it more than you would ever know. Not many bots get to see him like that- he has worked hard to put up this wall of a cool facade and vain aesthetic, he thought no one could see through it. You did, and boy did he really appreciate it. He felt that little light of love begin to grow for you- and he knew you felt it to by the way you acted around him, but this was something you had to push for and not him. He cannot be the big bad bot that takes advantage of the Prime’s creation, he doesn’t want to be seen as the bad guy, but he was more than willing to wait for you to come forward with these feelings, he was just a great mech like that.

-Optimus was a little torn with how he should feel about this budding relationship, because in the end it was ultimately your decision to make and he cannot stop you from doing what you wanted to do. Knockout was an enigma to him at times, he only seemed to be interested in fighting for himself and keeping himself o a winning team, but at other times he could have sworn he saw a soft spot in the bright red optics of a mech whom has been through more than he lets slip. Optimus was one who knew all too well that sometimes what is on the surface isn’t what is on the inside, as he saw such good in Megatron back when he fought for the rights of those who couldn’t fight for themselves. He has seen such drastic changes in so many Cybertronians, that he supposed that Knockout could be one of those mechs who can be changed for the better with the love and adoration of someone that was so very moralistically strong. You were the bright beacon in his dreary and ugly life, one that gave him an even stronger reason to fight for what he believed in, and now maybe it as time for another bot that struggled so hard with morality to share in that light and use it as a beacon to shine their way through the dark. He might not approve of this relationship right away, and it may take him quite a long time to grow to respect your decision, he knows that is could be for the best for the two of you. A great learning and growing experience that could impact you both for the rest of your lives, it really was a beautiful thing.

[sparatus]

idk which blog this is more appropriate for but: transformers meets mass effect! (i mean i already know it would be a complete disaster but like exactly how much of a complete disaster do you think it would be ;dh;gkjad)

octane i just want you to know that i love you and i love this question and i have been waiting for the spoons to answer it Properly™

i feel like if it were just a standard crossover it’d be too hard to mesh without some curb-stomping and that’s no fun so we turn to my absolute favorite: Expy Characters™ and believe me i have given this probably way too much thought

ok so. u’ve read the comics. i assume u know what i’m getting at when i say the batarian hegemony and the functionist senate are almost scarily similar. it thus stands to reason that m.e. ’cons are a resistance movement against the hegemony, as their tf namesakes are a resistance against the functionists. let’s be nice to them and say the Real Bad Shit in megatron origin does not happen to batarian megatron, so we don’t end up just repeating the tf storyline with m.e. species. also the ’bots and ’cons are all on the same side in this one cause i mean before the war optimus agreed with megatron that the current system had to go so????

batarian megatron and batarian orion pax are actual brothers in this one. they’re cops on khar’shan. they see some of the nasty shit the hegemony pulls, but they can’t really do anything about it, plus yknow they’ve been trained to think it’s nbd no matter what their consciences say. shit happens, they decide enough’s enough, batarian megatron starts down the path towards being a resistance leader. he eventually has to flee khar’shan with his cronies, pax stays behind as a mole.

the seeker elite trine are batarian master sneak-thieves masquerading as petty criminals, real good at getting into places they shouldn’t be, stealing shit, and getting back out while leaving the place seemingly untouched (stemming off my hc that prior to megatron origin screamer and company were messengers and, thanks to skywarp, thieves who used their job to scout targets then teleport in, steal shit, and teleport back out to sell everything on the black market). they’re actually my three most-developed of this whole thing. the shad’derah brothers. screamer is tarvok, warp is kaza, tc is thrajul or “tee-zhee” for short. they’re descended from the second spectre in history, i have this whole thing going, i could write an essay on them alone. anyway so batarian megatron (ok morvarn his name is morvarn) knows them from around the city and when he starts doing his thing he recruits them pretty quickly cause sneak-thieves are very handy.

soundwave is a quarian ex-slave who got his vocal chords fucked up by slavers. he runs the whole comm network and he’s really good at it. ravage was his pet varren, but then an incident on omega killed the poor thing, then a neighborhood ai mechanic took pity on him and built him a new ravage that could pass for an organic varren with the added benefit of various cool robot things that come in handy for spying. also buzzsaw and laserbeak are a couple rannochian birds the gang swiped in the process of escaping khar’shan.

the dinobots are a krogan merc gang who really like fucking shit up. in keeping with the comics cause imo idw dinobots best dinobots, krogan grimlock used to be the leader, but shit happened and now he’s not all there. he actually got captured by slavers during a job (again probably through self-sacrifice, god grim is such a comparative goody-goody despite being a raging jagoff), and then i figure slavers dealing with krogan have to do so much to subdue them because of how tough they are it’s really common for krogan slaves to have brain damage :( so grim is fucked up. he’s sorta the catalyst for morvarn and pax to get off their complacent asses, they take pity on him and morvarn recruits the shad’derahs to help figure out a way to help him and one thing leads to another and whoops how’d we start a resistance movement?? anyway so they help grim escape and go with him to omega, and there they meet up with the rest of the gang. slug is a big sumbitch named arutvor, as in the comics he’s taken over as the boss not-dinobot in grim’s absence, and they get really really close to going to town on morvarn and co’s asses before grim recognizes them and gets them to settle down. they’re not happy about it but they sorta tell morvarn to call when they plan on punching the hegemony in the face, in a sorta sense that they see it as returning the favor of getting their buddy out of hell. the not-dinobots mostly just hang out in a local bar when they’re not blowing shit up for money.

blurr is a drell messenger. he’s only kinda related to the rest cause sometimes he’ll do runs for them but mostly he’s pretty neutral. he’s the fastest drell alive this is non-neogotiable

also shockwave is a senator in the hegemony and he’s a Really High-up mole, his face is half-paralyzed rendering two of his eyes useless cause i figure the batarian higher castes are probably at least somewhat inbred :/

also also astrotrain is a ship pilot (like freighters and frigates and junk) and blitzwing is trained as both a fighter pilot and a tank driver, and blitz has did and all his friends are chill with it and just work with it this is also non-neogotiable

that’s all i have lol

[stan-the-fic-man]

Brink - Chapter 1: Hunt for Energon

In far-off reaches of space, not too far from the Solar system, there was a lone vessel of unknown origins. It was no human vessel, and very few gem vessel still actually came to this system anymore. Even after recent events, there were still only a select few that had ever come back to this small stretch of the galaxy.

While it was not something either side was aware of, the same could be said about the crew of this rather oversized vessel. While it may not have been the first time that this group of aliens had been to the reaches of this galaxy, it was the first time they had been here under circumstances that were even close to cooperative.

“Soundwave, are you absolutely sure that these readings are still good? I mean, Shockwave must have gotten these millions of cycles ago.” A large, white metallic being asked. The robot in question went by the name of Jazz and was one of the select few that were sent on this mission. In addition to him and the one he was speaking to, there were several others along for the ride.

Their mission was simple in theory but very difficult in execution. This small, ragtag team was sent to find more energy for their home planet. Or at the very least, find something that could be converted into what they needed. Energon was hard to find and even harder to manufacture from raw energy. The purer source they found, the easier it would be to convert.

Currently, they were hot on the trail of some old reports that were taken during the time of their war. It may have been an incredibly long time since the readings were last taken, but they were getting desperate at this point, and it was truly showing.

“Autobot concerns are unwarranted.” Soundwave answered in his synthesized voice, “Readings indicate that from the volatile nature of the planet's surface, any life forms would be incapable of long-term survival. Even if there was stabilization of the atmosphere, the chances of any organism surviving, native or otherwise, is roughly 2.37 percent.”

“2.39 percent, actually.” Another bot answered, an accent in his voice. “Although I do believe Shockwave’s reading to still hold some semblance of accuracy, we still must account for not only time but also the heavy chance for cataclysm in this part of the galaxy. While I do enjoy fellow intelligent company, Shockwave does have a tendency to not double check his work.”

“Yeah, that’s why he only has one arm now.” another Autobot spoke up, this one slightly smaller and red, two horn adorning his head, “Are you saying that you actually like being around that mad scientist Perceptor?”

“Not as casual company, Cliffjumper.” Perceptor told him, “More so because it is nice to have someone who can keep up with and understand all the things that I create and devise.”

“You saying something about us there, Perceptor?” Jazz asked accusingly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Most of you Autobots shine about as bright as a three-watt bulb.” One of the other Decepticons chimed in. He was not alone, behind him were the four closest of his comrades.

“You’re hardly one to be talking, Swindle.” Cliffjumper interjected, “You’re a con in every sense of the word. Weren’t you the one that was trying to sell tainted energon without knowing what you had?”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who was using it. That honor of stupidity goes to you and the rest of the Auto-trash.” Swindle rebutted.

“Maybe, but, if memory serves, one of your Decepti-creep friends was kind enough to take it back to your boss.” Jazz added, looking over at one of the larger members of the group. “Tell me Brawl, how’d Megatron react when he found out all that stuff was useless?”

“Unless you’re looking to get deactivated, I suggest you keep your questions to yourself.” Brawl answered, his tone showing clear anger, “This may be a joint op, but that doesn’t mean that accidents don’t happen.”

“You know I’m surprised they don't just call you brawn,” Cliffjumper added, “because you clearly have very little going on upstairs or anywhere else to be known for anything else.”

“That’s it!” Brawl shouted in fury, pushing Swindle out of the way to make an immediate b-line to Cliff Jumper. Not waiting for the hulking brute to come closer, Cliffjumper started to run towards him as well. Yet, just as the two got ready for a fight, they were stopped.

“Enough!” two voices shouted, coming from each side's respective leader as they got between them.

“Come on, Hot Rod.” Cliffjumper said, “Let me just teach this creep a lesson. I promise that it will make him far more agreeable.”

“Stand down, Cliff.” Hot Rod ordered, “You know as well as I do that it will cause more issues then it will solve.”

“That red scraplet is asking for it, Onslaught.” Brawl fumed, “If he doesn’t learn some manners, I may teach him some.”

“We can’t afford for you to start things with them.” Onslaught told him, “We have a mission and Megatron is not going to be happy if there are any setbacks. This is not a time for the two of you to start the war back up.”

Both Brawl and Cliffjumper were not at all happy with what their commanders said, but they were inclined to do as they were told. They had been put in charge and both sides knew that it was for a reason. Even if they themselves could not see why.

After briefly glaring at each other, the two turned away and went back to their own sides. Upon seeing this, the two commanders relaxed slightly but were quick to turn to each other so that they may talk about what just happened.

“If you expect this mission to go through without further issue, I suggest that you keep your Bots in check.” Onslaught told the Autobot lieutenant.

“Noted.” Hot Rod said abrasively, “but I suggest you do the same with your cons. We were both brought on this mission for a reason, and that was to ensure both our sides knew what was going on here. We don't need another incident.”

“That’s one of the few things that our kind can agree on.” Onslaught told him, “So for now, let's get back down to business.”

“Agreed.” Hot Rod said, heading back to the front of the ship where Perceptor and Soundwave were. It had been a tense ride all the way, and the two factions were only cooperating due to the orders that had been given to them by their leaders. While neither one liked each other, both Optimus and Megatron knew that cooperation was necessary in order for all of this to be resolved.

But that didn’t stop to two from constantly trying to get one over on the other. The entire crew of this mission could still remember the argument that was had before the task had even been decided.

“Soundwave,” Megatron said to his officer, “you will be the one heading this mission. If Shockwave’s reports are still accurate, the amount of raw energy that we could find on this planet will be able to sustain us for quite some time. Get there, set up communications and then report to me your findings.”

“As you command, Lord Megatron.” the comms officer said.

“Hold it right there, Megatron.” the Autobot leader said, his voice low and commanding, “Do you honestly think that we will let you handle this mission yourself?”

“Really now, Optimus.” the Decepticon leader said, “It would not be at all necessary for your Autobots to come along with this mission. It is simple recon, nothing. Do you honestly have so little trust in us that you think we cannot do this without issue?”

“Yes.” Optimus answered plainly, “After what happened in the last mission, I insist that a team of our own accompanies you.”

The leaders of each faction simply glared at each other, a strong sense of hate being felt by anyone in the room. The two almost never agreed on anything, but they were also aware that compromises needed to be made in times such as this. So, it was Megatron to yield this time around.

“Very well, Optimus. Send your own team if you please, but do not over encumber this mission with useless soldier. Send only what you need.” Megatron said, before turning back to Soundwave, “Soundwave, the Combaticons will accompany you on this mission. Hopefully, they will not be needed.”

“Acknowledged,” Soundwave said, turning to exit the room.

“I do not take orders from you.” Optimus commented, before turning to his own, “Hot Rod, I want you leading this mission.”

“Really, Optimus?” the Bot asked, “I’ve never lead a mission before. Are you sure that I am ready for this.”

“We don’t always get the choice of when we must lead, but I think this will be a good start for you.” Optimus told the young Lieutenant, “Take Jazz, Perceptor, and Cliffjumper. Ensure that the Decepticons don’t get up to anything and, if there is any raw energy there, report back once the communications have been established.”

“I won’t fail you.” Hot rod said, bowing his head slightly.

“I know you won’t.” Optimus encouraged him.

“Perceptor, what’s the report?” Hot rod asked the scientist.

“Well, so far nothing new.” Perceptor answered, glad that the conflict was resolved before it began, “As said by many others before, this information is very old, but I still feel that it holds merit. With the number of plausible accidents that happen in this remote system and the fact that it has its own asteroid belt, it’s unlikely that anything would survive long enough to develop. That being said, once we get close enough, I’ll be able to have a better reading of-”

Perceptor was interrupted when a small alarm noise could be heard from the head of the shuttle. Not wasting any time, he, Onslaught, Soundwave and Hot Rod made their way to the front to see what the fuss was. Once they got into the cockpit, Onslaught was quick to question his pilots.

“Blastoff, Vortex, what’s going on?” the Combaticon leader asked.

“We’re picking up strange readings from the planet that we’re approaching.” Blastoff said, “It’s unlike anything that the old logs have said.”

Bringing up a tracking map on the screen just above them, a map of the planet showed the where about of possible fuel sources. While there were a great deal of them dotted across the surface, the most prominent one was at the very center of the large rock. One that glowed like a mass of pure Energon.

“Perceptor, do have any idea what that is?” Hot Rod asked.

“I’m not sure at all.” Perceptor answer, baffled by what he was seeing, “This does not show up at all in the old information logs. Shockwave’s data has nothing on this.”

“Energy signature is near identical to that of raw energon.” Soundwave said.

“Raw? How could there possibly be a deposit of raw energon that wasn’t noticed before?” Onslaught asked, “I know the reports are millions of cycles old, but we would have seen it even back then? Vortex, take us in closer. We need to see just what’s changed on this supposedly uncharted world.”

Without a word, the Decepticon began to move closer to the planet. And once they got close enough, they were all shocked to see that, not only was life still on the planet, but it seemed that it had also evolved enough to get to a point of civilization.

“So what were those chances again, Perceptor?” Jazz asked, him and the rest of the crew having just recently come up to the bridge to see what the fuss was.

“I guess the saying true, life does find a way.” Cliff added.

“This is astonishing.” Perceptor said in complete awe, “to think that a species could survive against nearly every odd thrown against it. I know it’s possible, but this is truly something of a miracle.”

“Irrelevant.” Soundwave said, moving to one of the consoles, “Mission objective is the acquisition of energy. Subspecies must not hinder mission progress.”

“This is kind of important, Soundwave.” Jazz said, “We don’t know anything about these creatures. For all we know, they could be more fragile than Cliff’s glass gun.”

Cliffjumper simply rolled his eyes, giving an angry grumble at the comment about his favorite weapon.

“Irrelevant.” Soundwave repeated, “The mission takes priority, and the subspecies will not hinder us.”

“This is completely relevant, Soundwave.” Hot said, “We don’t know anything about this planet or it’s species. For all we know, they could already be acquiring the energy and using it for themselves. Now I know that you don't care about what happens to them, but wouldn't it be easier to try asking them first. Sure, we don't know if they speak our language, but it’s always worth a shot.”

“I hate to say it, but Hot Rod is right.” Onslaught added, “The more conflict we avoid, the more energon we bring back. If these things are even the slightest bit intelligent, we might be able to work something out. Who knows, we could wind up taking it all without them even caring.”

There was a long moment of silence in the cockpit as everyone stared at Soundwave. Of everyone in this group, he was the one to the most affirmative action. He never did anything without considering all factors, and his loyalty to Megatron was something that no one else could match. So, when he made a decision, everyone knew there was no going back from there.

It took a long period of thought, but Soundwave eventually gave his answer.

“Squawktalk, eject.” Soundwave commanded, a blue minicon flying out of his chest compartment. The con in question was one of the least liked among anyone who knew of him, as the bird-like robot seemed to never stop making noises.

“Operation; translation,” Soundwave told Squawktalk. No sooner was it said that bird flew out of the room, heading for the back exit of the ship. Everyone was thankful for this, as none wanted to hear that thing go on in every language they knew.

“Alright, that’s something we can take care of at least.” Onslaught said, glad to have done the smart thing. “Still, I don’t think that we should stick with just one plan. If that doesn't work out, we need to find a place to start this harvesting.”

“Agreed.” Hot Rod said, before turning to Perceptor, “Perceptor, what’s your opinion on the best course of action?”

“Well, based on everything that I am seeing so far,” Perceptor said, turning to work with one of the consoles, “with this mass build up of energy near the core of the planet, it is not unlikely that there may be several points on the surface where it can escape. Now, where there are several places that have large build up, I suggest we go to this one.”

Perceptor pointed to the map. The others all looked to what he was pointing to, seeing that there was a large energy spike on what looked like some sort peninsula of land.

[soartfullydone]

i’m finally doing another self-insert weekend \*^*/

i was talking to @zacksfairest about some shit steve blum was saying to her in starscream’s character, and i was all “hmm i should write a fic of that” and she was like “yes, you should!” so this turned into eight pages of self-insert trash all for one line ha haaaaa ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The Cybertronians still weren’t used to the idea. Many of them weren’t even sure how it had happened. Quitting war in favor of rebuilding their world and settling an ages' old conflict, they had come to live on their revived planet under the rule of Megatron, and now Megatron was gone. Some said it was a spur-of-the-moment election, others a coup. Both were more or less correct. But the hows and whys didn’t matter so much as the facts did. 

The simplest fact of all was that Starscream was the new ruler of Cybertron.

And the human rebels who still fought with the Autobots that had not surrendered, the rebels that had been captured during Megatron’s rule, currently imprisoned beneath Kaon, had no idea.

“Okay, folks,” Fowler said, his voice echoing softly yet urgently from his cell. The metal walls gave his words a tinny quality. “It’s now or never. Are we doing this or not?” 

“Oh, we’re doing it,” Miko said determinedly, punching her fist into her other hand. “This place is really cramping my style.”

“That was the last watch for a while,” Silas confirmed with a more professional tone. The group had come to expect nothing less from the military man. “Boggess?”

“Already on it,” Melody said, wedging her arms through the bars so she could reach the locking mechanism.

It took some maneuvering to make it work. A strange hybrid of technology and stonework, their cells weren’t like anything found on Earth. They certainly weren’t meant to hold captive either Cybertronians (they were far too small) or crafty organics like humans who could pick locks. It was hard to imagine what they were supposed to hold— “Maybe those bug-things?” Miko had suggested. Whatever their previous use, it was clear to everyone in this rebel unit that the cells were meant to be a temporary home for them, a place Megatron had stuck them until a more accommodating space could be made, one that probably involved an execution block.

With that surge in motivation, Melody assuredly gripped her makeshift lock picks and got to work.

She was oddly proud of them. What was once rough, loose stone she’d picked up in her cell had been turned into thin—if still a bit rough—picks thanks to the knife her cellmate June had managed to swipe from her meal tray. Their guards hadn’t even noticed it missing, which was no surprise. Cybertronians in general didn’t seem to realize what organics needed to function on a daily basis, their Eradicon guards even less so. None of them had ever given their human captives a full set of utensils between them, if any, but the rebels all counted themselves lucky when June had been given a knife of all things.

Oh, sure, the Eradicons knew it was a knife, but they’d made it clear they didn’t expect the fleshlings to do anything with it other than maybe scratch up a paint job. The humans certainly couldn’t hurt them with such a weak little thing. And then they’d forgotten about it. 

So for a little over a week and unbeknownst to their guards, Melody had been chipping away at the rocks long after the knife went dull. After some trial and error, her picks were done.

Yes, she was proud of them, and of herself. They hadn’t even broken in her hands yet, and she had almost gotten—

A click echoed loudly in the dungeon, but it wasn’t the sound of her cell’s lock finally springing free.

It was the sound of the door locks at the dungeon’s entrance, releasing with a rumble as the metal door whooshed open.

Melody flung herself back from the cell door the same instant Fowler hissed, “What?” Gripped with panic, Melody tossed the picks to June, whose fingers flew to hide them in the bun of her dark hair. Silas cursed softly, and even though she couldn’t hear it, Melody knew that Miko was gritting her teeth. But everyone quickly got their reactions under control.

And just in time. Their guard had come to give them an unexpected visit.

But when Melody peered through her bars to see, her blood froze. Their usual Eradicon guards were there alright, but so was someone else.

Soundwave, Megatron’s lieutenant and communications officer. The one who’d caught them.

And that eerily blank face plate of his was staring straight at her.

*

It was her first time ascending Darkmount. 

Her first impression of the dark tower had been from a distance. She’d considered the whole thing to be garish, almost too jarringly gothic-like to belong on Cybertron’s soil. But she hadn’t been afraid of it. In fact, she remembered laughing and cracking a joke with Miko. (“Shouldn’t the Eye of Sauron be on top of that thing?”) 

She wasn’t laughing now. Now, she was alone and utterly terrified.

Soundwave was her only escort, and he, of course, told her nothing. The mech never spoke, not to anyone. The only thing she could do was try to sort through her panic in a clinical fashion.

I’m the first being executed, she thought. And Megatron’s either going to watch or do it himself.

But it wasn’t Megatron who was waiting on Darkmount’s black throne. It wasn’t Megatron who was adorned in both a crown of gold and red jewels and a shark-like smile.

It was Starscream, and his smile wasn’t shark-like at all. It was self-congratulating and razor thin.

“Leave us, Soundwave” was his first purring order. He lazily flicked his hand in Soundwave’s direction as if he couldn’t be bothered to care where the mech actually went or what he did. 

And Melody watched, stricken, as Soundwave did exactly as he asked, no question.

What is going on? How did this happen?

Starscream’s red optics gleamed at her but suddenly narrowed. His features twisted into a frown. “Well, fleshling? What are you waiting for?”

His impatience spelled the promise of consequences if she didn’t act, yet she didn’t know what he wanted. Even sitting, his Cybertronian frame towered over her by stories, and her mind was reeling from trying to get everything to make sense.

Starscream is Megatron's second in command. His very ambitious, very traitorous second in command, she remembered. So does this mean… Did he actually manage to kill Megatron at last? 

Melody eyed the mech. There was no way. Megatron was a sheer force of nature, and she could already tell from her brief interaction with Starscream that he possessed none of Megatron’s brute strength or magnetizing charisma. Besides, if Optimus hadn’t been able to end Megatron after centuries, then how could Starscream have managed it? A thousand scenarios, a thousand concepts flashed by in a blink, some involving murder and some not, but who could tell which was closest to the truth?

Belatedly, she realized she’d been staring at Starscream for a beat too long, so to fill up the silence she asked the only question that made sense to ask.

“What happened to Megatron?”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Megatron?” Starscream screeched, claws digging into the arms of his throne. Voice dipping into a growl, he said almost to himself, “Why is it that this concept is so hard for everyone to—”

He cut himself off, sending her a fresh glare. “Oh, no. No, you’re not going to distract me, you evasive little fleshling. Not when I’ve been waiting so long for this moment.” 

Her eyes widened. His confidence was back. What moment?

Starscream leaned forward, the power-hungry gleam returned to his optics. “The moment when the leader of the last rebel cell bows at my feet.” 

His words were meant to make her cower. If anything, they caused her back to straighten, a streak of open defiance making itself known for the first time since her capture. 

“What makes you think that I’m the last?” she asked with a clever smile and a haughty raise of her brow. Ratchet couldn’t stand when she acted like this, and he was much more patient than Starscream. “Much less that I’d be willing to bow to the likes of you? Nice crown, by the way. It almost fits you.”

Melody had never met the Air Commander of the Decepticons before now. Not formally. She’d been on the same battlefield as him, she knew, mostly because the Autobots she fought alongside with knew him or knew of his reputation and couldn’t help but point him out. But she was a ground trooper, and he commanded the skies. She’d seen him from a distance, maybe, but memory tended to blur in the heat of combat. With surges of adrenaline, fear, and the warring needs to both plunge into danger and survive, Melody had not studied him too closely.

But his reputation was well-known to her. Starscream’s presence on the battlefield made every Autobot except the top brass shaky with nerves and fear, a psychological attack that Megatron had known and no doubt took advantage of at the right moments. Whenever Starscream and his seekers were put into play, the battle usually turned, and it was hardly ever in the rebels’ favor.

Starscream was lethal with his airstrikes, could break their lines and execute complex aerial maneuvers with precision without suffering any damage himself. He showed no mercy, even getting sadistic glee from torturing captured enemies for information before killing them. The Autobots had lost quite a few comrades that way, some she’d known on a somewhat personal level. A Starscream that was in control was one you would be unlikely to survive.

But she also knew from listening to Optimus, Ratchet, and Arcee that he talked too much, that he was exceedingly arrogant, easy to insult, quick to anger, and rash in his decision-making. And a Starscream that indulged in any of those things was one that made mistakes, some you could easily take advantage of. 

That’s what she was counting on by mouthing off to him, to get him off-balance, to make him angry, to have him make a mistake.

But there’s a difference between knowing someone’s reputation and knowing them, and between those two points lurked an untold world of miscalculation.

And when Starscream did not screech again with frustration at her words, it dawned on her that she had miscalculated. When he did not spout off with an angry monologue, dread gnawed at her stomach with nightmare teeth. When he didn’t order someone to take her back to her cell immediately, trepidation crawled up her throat, slow and wormlike. 

Instead, he smiled, a claw at his steel mouth and his optics hooded in satisfaction, like he’d just caught her in a carefully-woven lie. “Megatron mentioned you were bold. I hope you don’t think I’m supposed to find that charming.”

With a fluid grace that she wouldn’t have expected from such a large creature of metal, Starscream rose from his throne and clasped his servos behind his back. He descended the three steps leading up to the podium that held his throne, and then he began to circle her. His steps were precise, light for his race, but they were loud to her ears and screeching, and they set her teeth on edge, as he no doubt intended. And all the while he spoke to her in a low, constant rumble, a sharp contrast to his pacing steps. 

“You may not be the last rebel leader in existence, true, but you are the last of the human ones. I also have dear Silas in my grasp, too. I’m very curious how that alliance came about, especially with how often your side has accused us of terrorism. Tell me, do I detect a hint of hypocrisy from the oh-so noble Autobots? I don’t think my spark would be able to weather such a thing.”

If only that were the case, she thought but kept her mouth shut, remembering. A Starscream that was in control was one you would be unlikely to survive.

But even in control, he still talked too much.

He seemed to realize it, too. He came to a stop and glared down at her. “What? Nothing to say in your defense?”

She coolly disregarded him, focusing straight ahead. “I have nothing to add, no.”

He was silent. She waited for the blow born of his impatience to come.

But in a dipping purr, all he said was “Oh, but I think you do. Especially if you want your fellow rebels to live.”

Melody tried not to give him the satisfaction, she really did, but if she was going to try to learn his tells, then she had to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“Soundwave has shared with me his intelligence about you. One thing I noticed is that we’re a lot alike, you and I.” Before she could strongly argue against that accusation, he continued, “But you have a weakness I don’t, one you’re not yet ruthless enough to ignore. You’ll want your friends to live.” 

He examined those sharp servos of his with an air of carelessness. “The only way that’s going to happen is if the Autobots are, once and for all, crushed into scrap. So I’m willing to make you a deal. Give up the Autobots to me, and I’ll let you and the other organics return home.”

Her lips quirked wryly. “What, for all his intelligence, is Soundwave not doing a good enough job for you? Don’t tell me he’s bitter over taking your orders instead of Megatron’s. What happened to him anyway?”

“Never you mind what happened to Megatron.” Starscream’s optics flashed at her asking that for the second time. “I’d worry more about yourself, you insolent wretch.” 

With a steadying breath, Melody crossed her arms and looked the ruler of Cybertron straight on. “I need something much more than the lives of a few rebels if you expect me to help you.”

A nasty grin stole across Starscream's face. She detected vicious amusement there, but also approval. “You’re in no position to be making demands. But I’m in an exceptionally good mood today. Let’s hear your no doubt amusing proposition, fleshling.”

“Earth.”

“Ah, yes, what about the quaint little mudball?”

“I want it and all the beings who live there left alone.”

“…What?” 

“You heard me," Melody said firmly. "No more stripping it of energon, no more killing innocent people, whether deliberately or because they’re caught in the crossfire of this war. If you want me to help you track down the rest of Autobot high command, including Optimus Prime, then you and all who align with you must leave Earth out of it. Those are my terms.”

The grin had long since fallen from his face. His optics were hooded in suspicion. “…I suppose you thought I wouldn’t catch it.”

Her brows rose slightly in surprise. 

“And maybe," he slowly continued, "if I were Megatron, I wouldn’t have. You want ‘all the beings who live there left alone’? Including any Autobots who seek shelter, I’m sure.”

That was exactly what she’d been thinking. She’d miscalculated again. 

“Luckily for you, I’m not interested in organics, and I have little use for Earth and its meager energon stores now that I rule Cybertron. I always thought Megatron invested far too much time and resources into that dreadful planet, so I see no reason to deny your terms." 

Melody's shoulders relaxed at hearing that. She hadn't realized how tense they were.

But they seized again when he said, “However, if at any point my hunt for the remaining Autobots leads me to Earth because they’ve taken refuge there…” He shrugged. “That’s hardly my fault. Nor will I be held responsible for any human lives that are lost because they chose to harbor and align with traitors.”

“So in other words, barely anything will change,” she muttered, bitterness coating her tone.

His optics narrowed, his tone biting. “Perhaps you would be more receptive of my generosity if I forced you. Do you think you’d be difficult to break, human, with your flesh so easily torn? Or maybe I should start with your friends and make you watch.” Casually, his optics flickered toward the lift she’d been brought in after being taken from her cell. “I think I’ll start with the girl. I hear you're fond of her.”

“No!” She took a step toward him, forcing his attention back to her and away from Miko. 

But she was starting to realize that it didn’t matter how she tried to maneuver herself around Starscream. It was like navigating her way through a thick briar patch. No matter what plan of action or precautions she made, any route she took would bring her pain. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll do all that you ask in finding the Autobots, provided the rest of the rebels go free and Earth becomes a neutral zone.”

And hopefully, despite her betrayal, Optimus, Arcee, and the others would be smart enough to evade Starscream until he was inevitably vacated from the throne. The consolation tasted bitter in her mouth. 

The Autobots would never forgive her for this, nor should they. Neither would Miko, Fowler, Jack, Raf, or any of the other rebels if they found out. But if it saved Earth and countless lives, wasn’t she by her unique position obligated to try? How could she refuse? Perhaps Starscream wasn't the only one here who was arrogant, but she was already going down this path. No quitting it now.

“Mmm, that’s better,” Starscream said, voice scraping with pleasure. “Except you forgot to kneel. Go ahead, human.” A sharp claw pointed at his feet. His smile was smug, and his optics were cruel. “Bow. Prove to me your new allegiance." 

Not seeing any way out of the situation, she did. Slowly, every cell in her body protesting with disgust, she lowered her head and knelt on one knee, an arm propped on the opposite leg. She could barely get the words out. "From now on, I'm in your service, Starscream, in whatever capacity you deem fit." 

“Very good.” The words were a clawed caress inching down her neck and into her spine. "Yes, fleshling, you are far more appealing in a position of sweet supplication. Even if I can barely see you down there."

He was preening again, mad with power. At the realization, a strange sort of peace settled over Melody. This, this was something she knew. This was something she could use. As long as she was patient and waited for the right moments to act.   

Starscream took a step toward her. “There’s just one more thing.” 

A brief flash of light caused her to start, but before she could look up to see what it was, cool fingers made of flesh, not claws of metal, grasped her chin and lifted her face up.

It took her a moment to reconcile herself with what she was seeing.

She was greeted by the sight of a human face with pointed features, high cheekbones, and short silver hair. Red eyes glittered at her in victory, but it was the self-satisfied smile on his thin mouth that she recognized.

“Call me Lord,” Starscream's voice purred from a human throat, a man's lips. His grip on her tightened painfully—that was all too real, too—and with only a few inches between her and those merciless red eyes, he issued his final warning. “And no matter where you go, never think for one moment that you are ever safe from me.”

[mllemusketeer]

Jazz and Groceries

Continuing the self-insert-verse! Because we all need some cheerful escapism right now. 

Or, the one in which Autobot over-protectiveness meets its match, and Jazz is embarassed in a parking lot.

There’s something about ordering at the butcher’s counter at a grocery store that makes you feel like a Real Adult, and plus, my local grocery store often has better prices at the butcher’s counter. Which is great, because one of my few sins is the amount I spend on food.

“Anything else?”

“A pound of the double-smoked bacon, please.” The guy behind the counter and I shared the grin of the unapologetic bacon lover.

“Great stuff.”

“God yes.” Okay, the double-smoked bacon wasn’t that economical but it was good. There’s no point in being unhealthy if you don’t really enjoy it.

Bee-deep.

I accepted the brown paper packages I’d ordered, gave the guy another grin and polite farewell, and went to look at the veggies. Again. I was making up my mind about the bok-choi, which were expensive, but the cheap ones were another 20 minutes of driving away, at the international market.

Bee-deep. I frowned down at my phone and pulled it out. Text from Jazz. How much longer u going to b in there?

I grinned at the texts, their mash-up of complete sentences and text speech typical of a Cybertronian texting. They tried text speech, couldn’t quite get the hang of it.

Bee-deep.

Seriously.

Bee-deep.

I am SO BORED.

“Serves you right,” I muttered to the phone. You see, Jazz had been getting over-protective lately. All the ‘bots had. There had been the annual report of causes of morbidity and mortality in the US last week, and unfortunately, I’d been the conduit through which it’d gotten to the ‘bots. Hey, I’m taking classes in policy on top of my ethics coursework. It’s all in a day’s work for me.

And had totally panicked Jazz and co. Because right there, right at the top of causes of accidental death? And near the top of overall causes of death?

Motor vehicle related incidents.

See, we all know, intellectually, that getting behind the wheel is the most dangerous thing we do on a daily basis. Hell, it’s one of the most dangerous things we do, period. We just sort of accept it, that yeah, sure, there’s a chance we could get ourselves killed or injured every time we go to the store, and then we ignore it, because going to the store needs to happen with the minimum of gibbering terror.

Which is why it took me until I was 21 to get my license, but that’s tangential to the whole issue.

So Jazz got ahold of my iPad, open to said report, and, because ‘head of special ops’ translates to ‘incurable fucking snoop’ in personal relationships, read it, and then he chirped it to Optimus, and Optimus, who goes around vacuuming up interesting information about humans like my dog sucks up spilled shredded cheese from the kitchen floor, hadn’t quite run across that tidbit yet, and freaked. In a very gentle and stately manner, of course, because he’s still Optimus Prime. But he freaked.

The reasoning went thus: the humans are risking themselves daily driving to work. It is probably the riskiest thing they do every day.

This includes the human researchers. Actually, it especially means the researchers, who are crossing town on a daily or weekly basis to get to the base.

And to go to the grocery store. And things like that.

Cybertronians are far better drivers than humans. It’s more like walking to them. Besides, they can always transform and save the human, right? Or just dodge.

So for all the ‘bots with human friends, Optimus suggested that they try to minimize our driving time.

Which why my name was mud on base just now. It’s all very well and good for Sam, because Bumblebee is his first and only car, and they have something worked out with driving, but for Captain Lennox suddenly dealing with a very protective Ironhide? Hoo boy. And of course it’s my fault, because I was the twit who left my tablet lying around where an incurable fucking snoop can find it.

Because of course the jerk’s figured out how to get past the fingerprint scanner. No boundaries.

So I was pissed too. Not only because of the lack of personal boundaries, not only because Jazz was trying to babysit me, but because I too had a car I’d brought with me to grad school, and I preferred to drive myself, thanks. Meant I didn’t have to wait to go shopping. There’s also just the simple fact of, yeah, I love my research, I love the ‘bots, but I want a life outside of that, too. Oh, and also, I’d like to be able to go to a party without coordinating with Jazz. Ya know, little unreasonable things like that.

Oh, and I liked my car. His name was Blur, which for some reason made Jazz laugh hysterically when I told him, and he was a Honda Fit, a nice little car that resembled nothing more than a fat, happy, blue tadpole. He could haul like a pickup truck if I needed to, and I’d gone camping in him repeatedly, and he got 40 mpg. Jazz was wonderful, but he had nowhere to put the fucking groceries. Let alone camping supplies. Or the dog crate.

Jazz had looked up the safety specs on Blur when he’d first realized I drove that thing. Blur’s tadpole-ness was not, Jazz felt, an endearing quality. Especially when the info on the 2013 Honda Fit came back, saying it scored top points in collisions from all directions save the front, which it tanked on. Probably because the snub-nosed design meant that in a front-end collision, the driver would receive a lapful of engine.

“Okay,” I’d said, “then I won’t run into anything with the front of the car.”

Jazz had made a gesture like a human tearing their hair, both hands on his sensory horns, and gone, “Arrrgh!”

Honestly, it wasn’t the best retort, I’ll admit that. But it lost me the argument. Jazz was taking me grocery shopping. Blur sat sadly in the driveway, and got sat on by the neighborhood cats.

But I had one final volley in my arsenal.

You see, grocery shopping is fun. I get to putter around and think about eating tasty things. I get to stare at all sorts of tasty things, and decide what I’ll get and what I’ll do with them, and it’s just plain nice.

Translation: I can and will spend an hour per grocery store, if I think I can get away with it.

Which brings us back to the bok-choi and my angrily bee-deeping cell phone.

I pondered the bok-choi, then decided to go to the international market. Now it was apple time. This store had an entire stand dedicated to apples, some of which I could only find in the farmers market back home. I decided to rub it in a little more. I pulled out the phone and took a picture, then texted it to Jazz. Look at all the apples, I said. Deciding on one variety this week’s going to be hard! Pink Lady is one of my favorite, but there’s definitely a new variety here I haven’t heard of…

You are EVIL, the response read.

Hey, I’m not even at TJ’s yet, I sent. We’ll hit that next.

ARRGH.

I snickered, and went back to the apples.

Bee-deep.

I looked at the phone, expecting more robot bitchery, and instead saw, Do not come out the front of the store.

“The fuck?” I said aloud, and then I heard it.

The crash.

The distinctive sound of a large robot fist hitting a large robot face. Or other body part. A sort of clanging thump. And then a screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech of metal on asphalt.

“Oh,” I said. Well, so much for the shopping. Apparently I was evacuating a grocery store today, if the manager didn’t get their act together right quick.

A tumultuous half hour later, involving a lot of speaking calmly in a loud voice and directing people out the back of the store and to a safe distance, and free groceries, I sat in the parking lot next to Jazz, who was picking bits of metal out of his fists and looking sheepish.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” I said.

“I didn’t realize Barricade was around. He’s using some sort of cloaking technology we’re unfamiliar with,” said Jazz, looking, if possible, even more sheepish. “It wasn’t planned. I think he picked up my signature and took the opportunity.”

I looked around the parking lot. Jazz and Barricade had been hurling shopping carts for a bit there. There was one in a tree, looking oddly festive, surrounded by bright yellow palo verde blossoms. “I see,” I said.

“Clean up should be here soon.” Jazz stood, and winced as he did. Barricade had scratched his leg pretty good, though he assured me it was fine. Ratchet was on his way anyhow, because he couldn’t trust any of the Autobots to accurately report damage, slaggit. “Um.”

Pause.

“Maybe,” said Jazz, in the distinct tones of someone conceding a point they really, really didn’t want to concede, “maybe you are safer doing the shopping in that little blue death trap.”

I grinned. That was about as good as I was going to get.

[actionfigureinsider]

Hey Folks, Captain Collector, reporting for duty!  Every Year at Comic-Con International, I’ve given the privilege of interviewing the Brand Manager of my favorite toy line, Transformers!  Without further delay, here is my interview from this year, with all the answers to your questions about the new line, War for Cybertron!

CC:  Hello Jon, it’s a pleasure to talk with you again about my favorite toy line, Transformers!  I know every year we do this interview, and every year it’s one of the most read articles we do.

JW:  That’s great!  Here we are again!

CC:  It’s amazing to see how far Transformers have come, using today’s technology and design innovations being used to bring these great characters to life.  Compared to today’s offerings, the original toys seemed like unarticulated bricks! Speaking of the original toys, we’ve learned today that they’re coming back as Walmart exclusives?

JW:  Yes, they are!  What’s exciting about these G1 re-releases – it’s an exclusive Walmart program -not only is it using the original G1 tools, but the packing is almost identical to the original releases as well.  To the parents and fans out there, you want to go to the stores and experience that feeling again of seeing that packaging and those toys again.

CC:  Is there any sort of issue with licensing some of those old G1 vehicles?  Id’ heard stories about this in the past with certain car companies.

JW:  Not really.  For example with Bumblebee, we went to Volkswagen and licensed the beetle car from them.  This time around it’s an officially licensed vehicle.  Part of what’s happening on the G1 series is that we’re limited by what’s available.  A lot of the original tools are over 30 years old.  They’re made of steel, and steel rusts.

CC:  I think this happened with the Takara Encore Jazz, wasn’t his head mold damaged, causing them to resculpt it with a different, smiling face?

JW:  Oh yea, that’s right!  It’s a real thing…

CC:  Wasn’t there an issue with soundwave as well, where they used the SoundBlaster mold, with the dual cassettes, because of the same issue?

JW:  Yeah, it’s definitely a real thing.  The other thing that we have to do is to modify things here and there to comply with modern safety requirements.  Case in point – Starscream.  We had to modify hi null ray cannons.  The projectiles no longer meet safety standards, so we have to make sure that they’re not only ultra-nostalgic, and recreate that experience, but to also make sure that they’re safe for kids.

Sometimes we use that opportunity to make small improvements too, like including the Megatron blaster with Starscream.  Even though he’s got those derpy G1 hands, you can still put Megatron in his hands this time around.  The other thing that’s a small detail is that he has painted eyes for the first time.

CC:  Oh nice!  That old sticker never fit right!!  Mine is without the sticker.

JW:  Many are!  It never did fit right.  We actually had to change the material of the head to accept paint.  To the fans, it isn’t really a noticeable thing, but it makes a big difference.

CC:  Speaking of paint, and shifting gears over to the new line, “War for Cybertron”, I see that there’s a lot of paint deco on them!

JW:  Absolutely.  That’s due in part to coming to events like this, talking to fans.  We received lots of compliments about the Prime Wars trilogy, especially Power of the Primes.  But one thing we kept hearing was “what is up with those labels?”  So we decided to set a high bar with the new trilogy.  Certain characters had to be a certain height. Starting a new trilogy, we decided to make sure everyone was the right height, so that they were in scale with each other.  Part of that was also removing the internal gimmicks, like the head masters, moving over to the combat weapon system allowed us to keep the characters more “authentic” to their original representations.

CC:  I notice there is an INSANE level of detailing on them!

JW:  Exactly!  So instead of using the labels, we replaced those flat surface with a religious amount of detail (Laughter)!  I’m sure that Takara Tomy was ready to kill me, but I kept going back to them to add more detailing.  If you look at Chromia’s vehicle mode, there’s just so much detail.  Part of that was the fact that we wanted to add more gritty details, and we used our deco ops differently, which gives the appearance of a more highly decoed figure.  Plus because of the grittiness of war, we adding some of these battle damage effects and weathering effects to the figures, just so that it can start to capture a different feeling and tone with this line.

CC:  Are there scratches and battle damaged sculpted into the figures themselves, or is it all paint?

JW:  It’s all paint.

CC:  Fantastic, that’s something the fan base has been asking.

JW:  No, it’s all paint, and in most cases it’s on the robot mode only.  We tried to do it in a way that’s subtle and not overpowering at all.  We’re also doing different things with the deco. For example, Sideswipe, all of his components are molded in red, but then also painted in red.  We wanted to make the finish look like an actual car. Oftentimes when you mold something, and then paint something, the colors can look different.  I mean, it’s a toy at the end of the day, and you may have to do that, but I’ve learned a lot from working on the masterpiece line working with Takara Tomy.  When you take the time to do things a certain way up front, you can achieve different results without costing any more money. It just requires a little more work up front.

CC:  I can’t tell you what a relief that is, some of the labels on my new Transformers are already peeling up!  Honestly, I think that the Power of the Primes figures were some of the best Transformers ever made.  That Optimus Prime is the definitive version, for me.  I bought two of them, he’s brilliant.  If I have one criticism, it’s that those ankles drive me INSANE!

JW:  (Laughter) OK!

CC:  At any point, did anyone think of putting ratchets, or something to keep him standing?  A stiff breeze and he’s going down.

JW:  That guy was a miracle that we were able to get so much into that figure.  He’s got a cab that turns into an Orion Pax, who then turns into a torso of a bigger robot, and the trailer that can convert into legs, there’s a lot going on with that toy, with the resources we were given.  Obviously, it’s an understandable criticism, it’s just a constant struggle when designing these toys.  With War for Cybertron, we are starting over with a brand-new trilogy.  We always compare to, if I’m a toy collector, I’m going to have my Prime Wars trilogy shelf, and I’m going to have a War for Cybertron shelf.  It’s not going to be in scale with each other.  The War for Cybertron stuff has a different philosophy.  When we started this two years ago, in its infancy, we met with Takara.  We had some great meetings in Tokyo, and they came here for some, and we all got on the same page philosophically.  We talked about everything the fans talked about.  We put everything out on the table.  We’re listening.  We’re trying to make it so we are continually trying to push the brand forward, even while we are looking backwards at other characters, if that makes sense.

CC:  It makes perfect sense.  I think it shows exactly what you’re saying.  I DO love the new scale, and I have two questions about that; are there going to be leader class figures in War for Cybertron?

JW:  There are, Ultra Magnus is on display now!

CC:  OK, so he’s leader class?

JW:  I think what’s exciting about the leader class is it’s also a weaponinzing system, but because it’s War for Cybertron, and it’s about trying to do the best versions of the characters, Like Counterpunch, even though he’s in Power of the Primes, that’s the best version of Counterpunch ever done. We’re trying to make the best version. The same philosophy happened with Ultra Magnus.  The front cab turns into the white Magnus/Optimus robot, and the trailer turns into pieces of his armor, and throughout leader class you’re going to see that manifest in different ways, while still keeping the scale accurate.

CC:  My second question is where are the Decepticons?

JW:  We’re only showing Autobots here.  The Decepticons are on their way, they’re hiding, so we’re only showing the Autobots here today.

CC:  OK, fair enough!  Ultra Magnus looks very Robot in Disguise inspired.

JW:  The vehicle mode sure does!  That’s because he’s on Cybertron.  We didn’t want to make all of the vehicle modes looks like slab-front hovercrafts, we wanted to make sure that we have different form factors on shelf. Being able to access the RID vehicle mode for that guy was an easy choice for us, because that’s a very beloved and underrated vehicle mode.  It’s brilliant.  There’s a lot of stuff from the 200’s, like Armada, that’s just brilliant.  Sure it’s G1 inspired, but there’s all sort of easter eggs from all generations spread throughout the line.  Case in Point, I was just reading on a message board about how “Jon Warden is a big G1 fan”.  Well, I grew up with G1!

CC:  Is that supposed to be criticism, like that’s a bad thing?!?!

JW:  Right?  But I think what’s exciting working on a brand like Transformers, is that you get to do what you want to do, being able to listen to all of the voices that are out there, and we’re all Transformers fans, not just G1 fans. G1, Beast Wars, Armada…

CC:  I’m one of those who LOVED Armada!  And you and I talk about this every year, so this year wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t make my pitch for Big Convoy!

JW:  Heck yeah!!!

CC:  I really want an updated Big Convoy!

JW:  He’s great, he’s amazing, and a favorite of mine.

CC:  Optimus Primal is still coming, correct?

JW:  He’s definitely still coming, but he’s at retail, so we wanted to make room for all of the new stuff, and there’s the exclusive here for sale.

CC:  One last question; with the demise of Toys R Us, will I still be able to find Titan Class at retail?  Will there be any more titan class figures?

JW:  Stay tuned!  It’s a little too early to talk about some of that.  There’s opportunities for fans to get the figures they’re looking for, like Counterpunch on Amazon.

CC:  Jon, thank you so much for all of your time again this year.

              SDCC 2018 Transformers Interview with Transformers Brand Manager Jon Warden! Hey Folks, Captain Collector, reporting for duty!  Every Year at Comic-Con International, I've given the privilege of interviewing the Brand Manager of my favorite toy line, Transformers!  

[thanksjro]

The Transformers #23- Chaos Theory Part 2: Everything Ever is Whirl’s Fault, and He Didn’t Even Do Anything This Issue

Before the war, Orion Pax is watching the news. Turns out Nominus Prime got blown up earlier in the day, as Blaster reports from the scene of the crime. We get our first mention of the Militant Monoform Movement as we take a gander at all of Orion’s awards.

Turns out Orion went to college. Wonder what tuition’s like at the Institute of Higher Programming.

An incoming storm messes with the reception, and in walk three guys looking for trouble Whirl. Whirl’s currently in custody, seeing as Orion doesn’t take too kindly to beating suspects within an inch of their life.

General rule of thumb: anyone calling Whirl “popular” or a “friend” is either trying to kill him, or has made the attempt in the past.

So these guys are trying to get Whirl out of jail, using the power of persuasion and being generally threatening. Orion Pax is too much of a good egg to be swayed by such tactics, however, so they’ll have to up the ante.

In the present day, Optimus is having a brooding session in the engine room- I’m only assuming it’s the engine room- and Ratchet checks in.

I suppose “frazzled” is a word we could use, Ratchet, sure.

Optimus feels as if his decision on whether Megatron should be executed or imprisoned for the rest of time is going to be biased either way. Dang, almost sounds like putting it to a vote with the leader of the Autobots would be a better way of handling this, huh Optimus? It’s almost as if you’re compromised here, and we need a little friggin’ democracy going on.

Ratchet asks why he hasn’t consulted the Matrix on this whole situation, breaking out the quotation fingers whilst referring to its wisdom, but Optimus ain’t too sure about all that either. When Optimus first got the Matrix shoved into his body, that shit hurt. It hurt a LOT, and he’d interpreted that as a sort of warning that carrying it was a huge responsibility. Way bigger than taking care of a dog. Now he’s questioning whether or not he actually wants the responsibility.

Hey, if you’re having second thoughts about being Prime, you ought to give Bumblebee a little more room to work and be the leader of the Autobots like you wanted him to be, and maybe consider handing the Matrix back over to Rodimus-

Oh who am I kidding? His martyr complex would NEVER let that happen.

Back in the past, Wheelarch and Springarm are waxing poetic about how cool their new boss Orion Pax is. He’s strong, and heroic, and making a difference in the world, and he’s got just the most beautiful blue eyes-

Anyway, they arrive back at the precinct to discover where all the criminal scum have gotten to- Orion already bagged ‘em.

You know, I think tying suspects to poles in the ground in the office section, packing the room so tightly they can’t even sit or stand comfortably… I think that might be a touch illegal, Orion. Unethical, if nothing else.

A bit later on, Springarm wants to know just what the hell that was all about. Orion’s been thinking about Megatron’s writing, and how he thinks the Senate is institutionally corrupt, and that visit from Whirl’s “friends” is starting to make him think that maybe the guy had a point. It bothers him.

Springarm turns to his faith when he’s feeling bothered by deep questions like whether or not the world government is is enacting a caste-system in an attempt to control the populace.

This just in, the future space pope is a goddamned atheist. Perhaps this is why interfacing with the Matrix hurts him- it relies on a mutual respect between itself and its Prime, and there ain’t nothing less respectful than thinking of the thing as a literal ornament.

Orion thanks Springarm for the advice, but he’s going to work through this without spiritual guidance.

In the present, Optimus meets with Rodimus, and asks a question he’s never been able to ask before: how did it feel to interface with the Matrix?

Well dang, Rodders, tell us how you really feel!

It should be noted that Rodimus does have some level of faith in the gods, the Matrix, the Knights of Cybertron, and several other Cybertronian legends and myths- which sort of makes the MTMTE Knight Quest look like a bit of a crusade, doesn’t it? Does believing in the Matrix let it bond more seamlessly with the bearer? Methinks it just might.

Back in the past, Orion Pax gets back from patrol to find the precinct has been broken into, and his two motorbike boys aren’t doing so hot.

Oh man, Valve’s going to be pissed.

Moving real stealthy-like, Orion moves to the holding cells, where he catches those guys from earlier trying to spring Whirl from jail. Well, two of them anyway. The third guy is behind him, and shoots him in the back.

Luckily, Orion’s old body-frame includes a backpack, and this move doesn’t kill him. He sweeps the leg of his assailant, shoots Whirl in the leg so he can’t escape, then runs to his trophy case to grab the fancy gun someone gave him. Wonder what it was for.

Alas! It’s not loaded. Which you ought to expect from an award gun, unless you loaded it yourself before you put it in the case. Which he didn’t, clearly.

Three versus one, and the solo act doesn’t have any weapons. What’s a guy to do?

This is deeply silly. I adore it.

Thinking quickly, Orion drags Springarm’s headless body into a closet. This isn’t necessarily a smart move, but give it a second. As the three thugs discuss murder-based puns, Orion prepares to enact a Roberts’ writing essential.

Corpse desecration.

Riding his coworker’s lifeless body through the precinct, he runs down his attackers, stabs one of them in the throat with one of his arm cannons in front of all the ‘bots currently in the cells, and goes to find Whirl.

Whirl, who knows to get going while the getting’s good, warns Orion that the Senate has eyes everywhere, and if he so much as touches Whirl his whole life is gonna get turned upside down and inside out, and not in a fun way. And he’d know.

Smash cut to the Grand Imperium, home of the Senate, where everything is blue and gold, fear tactics are at play on the political stage, and everyone is suffering from a nasty case of same-face syndrome. Senator Proteus is about to enact the Clampdown, a strict rule of martial law that will, under the guise of protecting the people and weeding out terrorism, in actuality allow the Senate to hoard power like a bunch of dragons.

Then Orion shows up, after fighting off the entirety of the Senate security force, while carrying a one-legged Whirl.

Got a nice shot of some bird ass, and Orion’s honkers are halfway out. I wonder if this particular chunk of fan-service was specified in the script, or if this is purely Milne.

Sentinel calls off the dogs, and Orion has his say. He throws Whirl on the floor, introducing him to everyone as the cause of every problem ever. Well, not really, but pretty close.

Orion, you can’t just say a guy caused two people to die and then not expect to have to deal with the repercussions of pummeling his psyche at some point down the road.

Orion goes on to mention Megatron, bringing up his writings and how they revealed to him the dark, ugly underbelly of the Senate that he’d been blind to until that point. This is still the guy who arrested drug addicts for using and tied them to a pole, by the by. He’s less than 48 hours into this Megatron kick, and still got a lot to rectify within himself.

Orion coins the term “Autobots”, reclaiming a friggin’ slur the other races in the galaxy have taken to calling the Cybertronians.

I wasn’t kidding.

The Senate members are starting to get rowdy about being called out on their bullshit, and have Orion removed from the building, but not before he can ask Megatron’s three questions:

1. In whose interests do the Senate exercise their power?

2. To whom is the Senate accountable?

3. How can the populace get rid of them?

No answers are given, as he’s taken away. He did use Megatron’s name, by the way. His full one, with the “of Tarn” attached and mentioned where he worked. Smooth moves, Orion. Now Megatron’s going to be targeted for politically-charged murder.

In the present, Optimus Prime’s made a decision on what exactly to do with Megatron- and his decision is to let Megatron decide his fate, because freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and part of that is getting to choose your fate.

Megatron picks death, like, immediately.

Optimus gets the Matrix back from Ratchet, who he left its care in- he wanted to be sure that he was still the person he had been back when he made that speech to the Senate. Glad your crisis of self went well, Optimus.

Back in the past, Orion Pax meets with a senator in front of the Ark-1 memorial, very secret-like. See this senator’s seen all the nonsense that goes on in the Senate, and he’s about had it. Forget what all Megatron wrote about, it’s way, way worse in reality. He can’t prove it, but the attack on Nominus Prime was an inside job, so that the Senate could get their hands on the Matrix and figure out how it creates life.

I know, it’s crazy.

Things will probably pop off very soon, so the Senator’s taken the liberty of modifying Orion Pax’s chest cavity while he was passed out receiving repairs.

So the guy made a little hidey-hole for the Matrix in Orion’s body, so that he could one day be Prime.

Hey.

Hey, Senator.

Consent is sexy, man. Don’t be like that.

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 11 - Bring a Little Heaven (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ratchet Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3745

( Previous )

There was only so much social contact Sunstreaker could handle before he needed to retreat somewhere more private and recharge his social batteries, as it was. Sideswipe didn’t come with the same requirement, but their draw to be together was stronger even than his brother’s desire for the company of outsiders. 

As such, when Sunstreaker had skulked back into their quarters in the middle of the day after a far too active morning in the rec room, Sideswipe had followed. Now all they did was bask in each other’s company, Sideswipe once again playing his games, Sunstreaker laying on his back on their berth, one servo behind his helm, the other tossing a knife in the air and catching it after it fell back down. Then toss again.

“You’ll get that embedded in your face if you keep that up,” Sideswipe commented without looking up from his screen. Sunstreaker snorted.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, his mouth drawing into a grin. Come on, he wasn’t so bad at this that he would’ve made rookie errors like that.

But that didn’t mean the chance didn’t exist, and it was just the right amount of tension. The sparkling was vibrating at it, hungrily following where his emotions would lead.

Little fragger really liked all sorts of excitement a bit too much.

Sideswipe didn’t get a chance to answer before there was a ping on their door. Sunstreaker caught the knife one more time, both of the twins looking at the door, but… It didn’t open.

So, not Megatron, then. He still walked right in without waiting for any kinds of go aheads.

They shared a glance before Sideswipe triggered the door to open. On the other side stood a Seeker, and…

“Ratchet?” Sunstreaker asked, surprise swelling in their spark. The both of them pushed themselves upright on the berth, ogling at the Autobot medic presently on a Decepticon ship, and this definitely wasn’t like it had been with Jazz. It was like Ratchet had permission to be here, what with the Seeker standing behind him.

If he wasn’t here with permission, they could only imagine he’d have been in the brig by now.

“Can I come in?” Ratchet asked, a bit grouchily. The way he was glaring behind him, it didn’t look like he really appreciated his escort.

The Seeker pretended he wasn’t seeing anything.

“Yeah, sure,” Sideswipe said, and Ratchet took that invitation to step inside. Before the door closed, they could see the Seeker turning and walking off.

Righty then, now Ratchet was here, in their room, on the Victory of all places. And… The last time they’d seen…

Well, Sunstreaker could barely keep the grimace off his face at that memory.

“What are you doing here?” Sideswipe asked, barely waiting a beat before continuing in a rush, “I mean, don’t take this wrong, we’re happy to see you, but you know…” Autobots, Decepticons, the whole war between those two factions.

There wasn’t usually much cooperation between them.

“I traded,” Ratchet grumbled.

That didn’t really answer anything.

“Traded what?” Sunstreaker asked, scooting to the edge of the berth and letting his pedes fall to the ground, although he didn’t get up.

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Medical care. I’ll treat some of the peskier injuries Hook struggles with, and in return I get to visit you.”

That was… Really nice of him, actually. Sideswipe gave a lopsided grin. “Aw, so you do care.” As if they’d ever doubted that. 

True to form, there was a medical object flying through the air in the next second and Sideswipe meeped when it hit him in the helm.

“Shove it,” Ratchet grumbled a little harder, stepping forward and–

Sunstreaker could feel scans over him, and soon after Sideswipe felt the same. His brother fetched the wrench Ratchet had thrown and handed it back to the medic.

You know, so it could be thrown again when the need called for it.

“How is he treating you?” Ratchet asked, very tensely. His optics passed the length of Sunstreaker’s frame first, before repeating the visual inspection on Sideswipe.

Not that there was anything to see. Yeah, the interfacing with Megatron had a habit of leaving him dented and scuffed, but they fixed those right up. They were pictures of health, aside from the scratches across their insignias that no one had ever bothered to fix—and for what they stood, probably wouldn’t bother to fix anytime soon.

“Who?” Sideswipe asked for clarity’s sake. “Hook or Megs?”

“Both, really.”

“Hook’s perfectly passable as a medic. No real complaints,” Sunstreaker shrugged. Ratchet nodded briskly at him, looking like he expected that answer. Hook was no Ratchet, but he’d still managed to keep mecha of his own side alive and in the fight, so he had to have some idea of what he was doing.

Even if he sounded like there were some things he couldn’t treat, that Ratchet could. 

“No real complaints about Megatron either,” Sunstreaker shrugged again. Ratchet’s optics sharpened on him, scrutinizing him. Sunstreaker met the look evenly. He still wasn’t the type to cow under things like that, like he’d never been, and Megatron had only further desensitized him.

Ratchet didn’t relent. “Excuse me if that’s a little hard to believe after the way he fetched you,” he snarled.

Sunstreaker huffed. “And you think it wasn’t inevitable after I was into the whole thing?” And the whole cascade of effects that had caused? First interfacing with the warlord repeatedly, like breaking the rules just once wasn’t enough? Then getting sparked and still keeping it a secret from everyone, because Primus forbid he admit to what he’d done? All the trouble he would have gotten into that he’d denied like a fool to the last? Even knowing the chances of escaping the consequences forever were slim to none?  

Why hadn’t he snuffed the sparkling? Why had he kept incriminating evidence he should have hated by virtue of who its sire was, like any sane Autobot would have?

What the pit was he thinking?

And now he was here because of all that. Sure, Megatron had forced this bit on him, but really it was just one of the potential outcomes, none of which had been good.  

Was this the lesser evil out of all of them? What were the others? Despite what the Prime had said about them being welcome in the Autobots? They weren’t. They barely ever were, least of all now. And what would the Autobots have done to it? Shunned it at best? Forced its abortion at worst?

He wouldn’t have put that past them. Not with how deep the rightful hatred of the opposite side ran—that Sunstreaker had, evidently, never gotten aboard on like he should have.

Ratchet was quiet for a moment, still staring at him, and was that concern in his expression? Again? Sunstreaker frowned. Weren’t they past this already?

They weren’t, if Ratchet’s next words were anything to go by. “Did you ever feel like you could say no?” he asked, a little carefully, almost.

Sunstreaker startled; Sideswipe revved in surprise. Yeah, that was the first conclusion Optimus had jumped to too, only for Megatron to immediately refute it.

Because Sunstreaker had been into it every step of the way, there was no denying that.

But had he ever felt like he even had any other option?

He hadn’t really entertained that thought before, but his frown deepened ahead of his helm dropping, breaking his gaze from Ratchet’s. “...Not really.”

He had kind of said no anyway, hadn’t he? No matter how exciting he’d found all of it, because saying no was what he was supposed to do in that situation. 

Megatron hadn’t much given a fuck about that.

Ratchet growled, and this time Sunstreaker did grimace. “Do you feel like you can say no?” the medic asked, and pits but he sounded more than a little angry.  

But not at Sunstreaker, he was pretty sure about that. And yeah, Ratchet had rightly concluded the interfacing hadn’t stopped at his so called defection. Why would it have?

Did he feel, now, that he could say no?

“......Not really,” Sunstreaker said, quietly. He denied every time. Not because he didn’t want it. Everyone knew he did.

But it didn’t change the fact he never gave his permission, something Megatron ignored every time. What if he one day genuinely meant it? What if one day he didn’t want it?

Did he have any reason to think Megatron would give one flying fuck about that?

Ratchet’s engine absolutely roared this time, his field saturating the whole room with fury. He began to pace back and forth the rather lacking width of their room. Sunstreaker found himself in the unusual position of being the one to pulse calm, trying to pacify the irate medic that for once wasn’t angry at them.

“Ratchet, it’s fine, really. I’m fine,” Sunstreaker promised, getting onto his pedes, and stepping in Ratchet’s path to force him to stop and look at him.

Which Ratchet did, his face in a severe scowl and optics spitting fire. “I’m fine,” Sunstreaker repeated, trying to make the medic believe him.

Because he really did feel fine. He wasn’t traumatized by this whole thing or anything of the sort.

As far as he knew, anyway.

“How can you be fine?!” Ratchet asked, gesturing violently. Sideswipe got off the berth too, coming to stand behind Ratchet and sandwiching him between them. He wasn’t sure if Ratchet even noticed. “He’s– He’s– Forcing you!”

Raping him, as much as Ratchet didn’t manage to get that word out. 

Was that what he was doing?

If it was, why was Sunstreaker so okay with it? That was what Ratchet wanted to know, wasn’t it?

How was he supposed to explain this? The… Normalcy of it.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary, it wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before, it wasn’t anything he was meant to make an issue out of. 

“It’s how we ‘faced back in the Pits,” Sideswipe spoke up. Ratchet started and glanced over his shoulder. Definitely hadn’t noticed Sideswipe’s approach, then. “It’s how a lot of gladiators got their kicks, the whole power play aspect of it,” his brother continued, shrugging. “We learned to like it, too.” Like it rough, like it when consent wasn’t given, but taken. It was exciting, to lose control like that to someone stronger than yourself—or, sometimes, pretend someone was stronger than yourself. 

There was no such need to pretend with Megatron. There was slagall Sunstreaker—or Sideswipe, for that matter—could have done to stop him, even if they’d wanted to. Megatron had beaten him even when he’d glitched. He could have taken him right there and then, afterwards.

He hadn’t. A small mercy, on his part.

They didn’t really want to stop him, though. Hadn’t so far, anyway, and Sunstreaker wouldn’t have bet on them ever wanting to do it. 

Ratchet’s face twisted with emotion that Sunstreaker didn’t want to name. It wasn’t so much anger anymore, just… What he felt when they shared some of the less pleasant details of their past. “You shouldn’t have needed to learn to like it,” Ratchet said with feeling, looking between them. They stared back, light frowns on both their faces. “And you shouldn’t need to go through it again now.”  

Sunstreaker huffed. “The fragging’s spectacular,” he said, crossing his arms across his chassis. Sure, maybe the whole consent aspect of it was more than a little iffy, but that didn’t change the fact he’d gotten the best overloads of his life out of it. 

Ratchet straight up growled at him. “That doesn’t change a thing.”

“It changes everything,” Sunstreaker argued. “Maybe I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.”

“You should still have the option!” 

“Maybe, but I don’t,” Sunstreaker shrugged, “so the best thing I can do is enjoy the frag out of it.”

Ratchet stared at him for a moment before pressing his face into his servos and making a sound that was sheer frustration. “Sometimes I forget how fragged up you two are.”

Sideswipe snorted. “Thaaanks.”

The medic cycled a few deep ventilations before he dropped his servos to glare at Sunstreaker. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

Sunstreaker gave him a wry smile. “Not really, no.” Really, it was in his own best interest to not change his mind, wasn’t it? Imagine if he suddenly started to make an issue out of this whole thing and really did end up getting raped as a result. Wouldn’t that just suck for everyone?  

Ratchet growled again for good measure, but gestured him to get back on the berth. “Well, let me do a checkup on you.”

Sunstreaker nodded, and like the good little mechs they weren’t, both him and Sideswipe sat back down on the berth. Ratchet stepped up to Sideswipe first, plugging into him and perusing all the relevant readings and prodding at the bits of coding that sometimes proved troublesome for his brother. “Everything seems to be in order,” he grunted after a while. No surprise there. The most Sideswipe had ever gained were some injuries during training sessions, but Hook was perfectly capable of fixing those. So Sideswipe merely nodded and Ratchet unplugged from him, then turned to Sunstreaker.

And this was bound to get more interesting.

“Ratchet?” Sunstreaker spoke up as the medic plugged into his port, earning himself a questioning look that he took as an invitation to continue. “If we’d told you about the sparkling’s sire, would you have needed to tell the command?”

The medic stilled for a moment, and really, that was all the answer there needed to be even before Ratchet inclined his helm and answered. “Yes. Almost anyone else I could have kept confidential, but Megatron would have been too great of a security risk alone.”

“Then we made the right call in not telling you right away,” Sideswipe concluded. “I mean, not that things went so great even with us keeping it a secret, but you know… At least it bought us some time.”

Ratchet nodded mutely as he began to file through the goddamned mess that was Sunstreaker’s helm. They weren’t sure if he genuinely agreed with that assessment, but he didn’t argue the point. 

“You’re coding the sparkling’s frame internally,” Ratchet noted after a moment. He had to have noticed it with his very first scans of them, but now he had the related commands and readings open.

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker confirmed anyway, and Ratchet all the way smirked at how unhappy he sounded. Enjoy his suffering, why not.

But then the medic went on to frown. “There’s quite a bit of influence from Megatron here, already.”

Both twins shrugged. “He was pretty clear he wanted to contribute as much as possible.”

Ratchet growled, his field flashing with muted anger. It wasn’t too hard to guess why. Contributing meant interfacing, and they’d already had a whole discussion about the consent of that, so… Ratchet wasn’t happy.

Couldn’t be helped, though. It was what it was, and Ratchet didn’t start their argument back up, just grumbled. “Well, everything looks to be in order on this front. The coding is progressing as it should, and maybe with Megatron’s influence your glitch won’t pass on.”

See, there were positive things to Megatron’s input on all of this, too! Sideswipe snickered. “Told you so~”

Sunstreaker punched him on the shoulder, only for his brother to outright laugh. Ratchet rolled his optics at them. 

“What about my carrier protocols?” Sunstreaker asked after giving his twin a good, hard glare. “Hook said they’re online, but couldn’t tell what they were doing exactly.”

“Well, let me have a look,” Ratchet said, putting aside the frame building stuffs and navigating to the nearby bits of coding related to it. He frowned as he read through them. “They’re not working as they should, that’s for sure,” the medic muttered after a moment of silence and focus. Sideswipe snickered again, and Sunstreaker huffed. That wasn’t too much of a surprise right there. “Looks like they are making you protective of the sparkling, as they should, but they’re not accessing your emotional cortex to make you attached to it.”

With how damaged that part of his processors was, that didn’t come as anything too unexpected. And maybe that was why he didn’t feel a particular draw to stay with the sparkling after its separation. He wanted to secure its future, and that was probably the protective part, but he wasn’t hell bent on being a part of that future, which he assumed would’ve been the attached part.

“Anything else?” Sunstreaker asked. He couldn’t much understand what Ratchet was looking at, anymore than Hook had. It might’ve been his own damn head, but he was no one who would’ve specialized in coding in any shape or form.

“Again, they’re not accessing your emotional cortex to make you care about the sire,” Ratchet said slowly, but from the concentrated frown on his face, that wasn’t the end of it. It just looked like even Ratchet had trouble making sense of how his programming was functioning with this thing, no matter how much time the medic had spent in their heads.

Ratchet continued eventually, “But it seems they might be influencing your thoughts towards some positivity regarding him, anyway. Just not emotional one.”

Sunstreaker nodded slowly. That would explain why he didn’t give a frag about Megatron beyond the thought that he would take care of the sparkling like no one else. That was really the end and the beginning of his investment in the mech.

Besides the fucking, anyway. That was good.

Ratchet moved to the rest of his coding next, viewing it as a whole for a moment before prodding at the areas that were mostly held together by some desperate patch jobs to give him even some of his self-control back.

He frowned when he focused on some of those areas. “There’s some deterioration. Have you noticed your glitch worsening?”

Sunstreaker frowned too. “Not really, no.” But then, he hadn’t run into particularly stressful situations either, so maybe he just hadn’t done anything that would have had him seeing a difference.

“Well, keep an eye on that,” Ratchet cautioned him before unplugging from him. “You’re both about as fit as can be expected.”

“Hook’s doing a passable job?” Sideswipe grinned and Ratchet gave him a glare before sighing and nodding.

See, things weren’t so bad for them at all. They had all they physically needed, including great fucking, and good enough medical care, and–

“How have you settled in otherwise?” Ratchet asked from them. Sideswipe scooted to the side before patting the berth between the brothers, and the medic took the invitation and sat down.

“Better than we ever did with the ‘Bots,” Sideswipe replied frankly, but without going too in depth with it. They didn’t need to rub how much better they were fitting in here in Ratchet’s face. He had always been one of the things that hadn’t sucked about the Autobots.

And he didn’t look very surprised to hear that. “About what I expected,” he admitted instead. “Making friends?”

Sunstreaker snorted at the question. Why did he feel like someone was doing some mother henning right then? Sideswipe grinned, and was the one to answer again. “Ayup~” But, again, he didn’t go into the details.

Ratchet nodded, and for a moment there was quiet. Not the awkward kind, just… Companionable. They could have asked about the Autobots, how they were doing in their absence and all that, but it would’ve been weird kind of prying. Was it any of their business how the Autobots were doing? They didn’t really consider themselves a part of the war anymore or anything, but they did live with the opposite side. Sure, Ratchet wouldn’t have told them anything important or confidential anyway, but still.

So they didn’t ask about everything they’d left behind. That was the past. Might as well leave it there and focus on the present—and the future.

Ratchet was the one to break the silence. “You can feel the sparkling already, can’t you?”

Sunstreaker nodded. Without anything too exciting happening, the little thing was laying quiescent, but it was still there the whole time. He could feel its little life next to his own bigger one.

“Have you noticed its personality yet?” Ratchet asked next, staring at his chest as if he could look through all the armor protecting his spark chamber.

The twin’s mouth rose into a smile. “Sorta. It’s got a sense of humor. Adrenaline junkie. Loves it when I fight, especially. Doesn’t get bored too easy, though. Demanding, gets huffy if it doesn’t get its way.” That last one… Was probably going to become an issue later, after it had separated. For now it was just limited to demanding him to do things that it found exciting, but that was easy to deny.

What of when it had a frame of its own to express itself and its will with?

Ratchet snorted. “You’ll have your hands full with it.”

“Well, someone will have,” Sunstreaker conceded. Ratchet gave him a curious look, to which he shrugged and continued, “I haven’t yet decided if I’m gonna stick around after it’s separated.”

The medic’s look of surprise only lasted for a second before his understanding dawned and he nodded. He’d just poked around in his coding, so… Yeah. No real surprise there.

“But you’re not returning to the Autobots after?” Ratchet asked, probably for confirmation’s sake because Jazz had to have passed on what they’d talked about.

“Pit no,” Sunstreaker said with the same sentiment he’d given to Jazz. And this time he didn’t repeat the reasons. There was no point. Ratchet had to know them by now.

And he probably did, because he didn’t ask after them, just nodded again.

“Will you have to leave yet?” Sideswipe asked from his other side.

Ratchet looked his way and shook his helm. “I don’t think so. There was no time limit given.”

“Does that mean you can stay a while?” Sideswipe continued, a little hopeful.

Or a lot hopeful.

Ratchet inclined his helm, this time, just a bit of a smile on his face. “As long as I can before someone throws me out.”

Both of the brothers laughed at that, Sideswipe a bit more freely than Sunstreaker. “Won’t be us~”

( Next )

[3one3]

The Sequel - 822

Bit By Bit

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Have you seen my bit box? Nicky’s getting a rub from the bit guards on the loose ring we travel with so I want to switch to a regular snaffle or find a bigger loose ring. Actually, first, I wanna just see if the one on the traveling schooling bridle is the same size as the one we use at home, ‘cause that one doesn’t seem to bother him. Oh, she’s on the phone,” Christina finished in a whisper. “My bad.” She spun around to continue her 360-degree survey of her gorgeous tack room to look for the miniature trunk/bit box. Half of the burgundy painted room with the stunning Brazilwood cabinetry was still in a state of chaos because the horses and equipment from the North America trip were just delivered, on Monday afternoon. Stefanie was sitting on a packing case and leaning on the tall grooming cart/storage box, on her phone. She was away at a show over the weekend too. It was back to work for both girls that morning.

Christina started catching up with the horses she left home, including Cartagena, who was known around her stable by a variety of nicknames, including “Carter”, “Escobar”, and “Santi”, which the lady of the stable was partial to. She called him Santi after Santiago Gamboa, a Colombian journalist and author whose work to which she was turned on by Juan. Dirk and Calvin got good schools too, and Socks and Kimi would as well after a snack break. Stefanie still didn’t have a job, so it was easy to change her lessons so that Christina would be free to explore the neighborhood with André when he returned from training. She was saving Kimi for that, as he was least likely to freak out on the road, dump her on her head, and take off.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Stefanie asked as soon as she quietly ended her call.

“Have you seen my bit box?”

“Yeah it’s right over here, but I don’t think you’re getting to it until somebody moves this thing.” She leaned her head back to tap on the portable metal cabinet trapping the fancy bit box. “I thought Kyle was supposed to be doing this?”

“He would be if Tom didn’t fire his help.” So inconvenient, her coach thought, reflecting on the head groom’s dismissal of the very woman he picked to be the “at home” groom. There was some drama first thing in the morning. Strictly on the low, Christina told André, she thought Tom was a little cranky from his travels. He beat the horses home by a couple of hours, at the expense of an aggressive flight itinerary. Nevertheless, he was very dissatisfied with the state of things upon his return from the long trip. He didn’t like how the stalls were bedded. He didn’t like that the water buckets showed signs of not having been scrubbed daily. Kyle reported some other problems that he didn’t think were a big deal but apparently were indeed. The most serious strike against her was a cut on the underside of Calvin’s long and voluminous tail. It was obviously more than a day or two old and hadn’t been treated, which meant the new groom didn’t do a thorough job of grooming, or even checking over the animals regularly. The boss agreed. She had to go.

“I’m sure he’ll find someone else,” Stefanie shrugged. “Is it okay if I bring a date to your cookout?” Her question was barely audible because she totally swallowed the end of it and turned in the opposite direction. Her trainer still heard it.

“A date?” Said trainer’s face expressed puzzlement.

“My sister came to visit the weekend before this last one and we went to a nice restaurant for dinner but we couldn’t get a table, so we just ate at the bar. We weren’t there to like, meet people,” Stefanie blushed, her legs swinging faster against the front of the packing case. “We just wanted to catch up. This random guy sat next to me and I don’t even know how long he was there before he just started talking to us. He was waiting for a date- a first date. He thought the girl was standing him up because she was so late, so he invited my sister and I to take his table. We were already finished though. My sister suggested we all go sit, and we could have dessert and keep him company while he had dinner. He was really sweet,” the younger rider smiled, a deep red color coming through her cheeks. “Maybe we just felt bad for him because he got stood up? I don’t know. But he was nice, and he made us laugh a lot, and is pretty okay looking. He wanted my number. We’ve been texting...and talking...”

“Then yes, absolutely you can bring a date.” Yay! This is so good for her. Either it’s time to give up on Mario, or this is a good way to prod him a little. It will definitely get back to him, Christina reasoned. I know he has a lot on his plate right now but if he’s not leaning on her to help in a difficult time, how could they possibly have a future? This is good. I’m excited. She instantly looked forward to her little backyard party with more enthusiasm than when she invited Stefanie. André wanted to have friends over Thursday evening because his teammates had the day off and the weather was supposed to be nice. He hoped they could celebrate advancing in the Champions League. Christina thought he should have wanted to be alone with her that night since she would be out of town over the one before, but she couldn’t be picky like that. She knew she couldn’t go away overnight and then act like he ought to feel blessed to have her around. He promised to help her do the shopping and the cooking.

“Great. I’m going to go ride Dezy-mare now before you can ask me any more questions.”

And I’m going to figure out how to get to my bits, the resident World Champion thought, studying the traffic jam of equipment around the somewhat worn but still very beautiful and exquisitely made bit box. Her only route to it was crawling over top of two other full size trunks and reaching down. But first, I’m gonna find out where boyfriend is.

“Where are you come home I miss you,” she tapped out all as one run-on sentence, to André. She then did in fact crawl over some big boxes to get to the small one, and was very pleased to find that its contents were still fairly well organized by bit type and style. Only when she lifted the bar full of her many, many loose ring snaffles did it dawn on Christina that she didn’t know what size plain one she needed without having the one on the traveling schooling bridle to compare to, and that she actually wanted to compare that one to the schooling bridle she used for Nick at home.

“Chris?” Kyle asked while she was lying flat across her trunk lids on her stomach and staring into the bit box below. “Would it be all right if I put Goose in Kimi’s field for the rest of the day, as Kimi is about to come in and there most likely won’t be time enough to turn him out again when you’re finished?”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Optimus Prime might hurt him if he tries to pick on him, but they’ll probably be fine. Wait, why isn’t he in his own field?” the trainer questioned curiously while crawling backwards to get to some floor she could stand on. The bits she decided to take with her made annoying and loud sounds banging into the lids as she moved on her hands and knees.

“Carter is in it. We were putting him in Nick and Rio’s field while they were away. I was going to bring Optimus in with Kimi.”

“Oh. I forgot we’re a little short. We should probably find out if maybe he can coexist with Kimi,” she frowned once she was able to get back on her feet. “It’s a shame to give the Iceman and his little bro a whole paddock to themselves, and they’re both pretty chill.”

“Of course, but Goose has no chill. He hates everyone.”

“Well let’s give it a try tomorrow. The run is next to them anyway. Put him there in the morning and then when you’re done with the regular stuff, go move him over and stay out there to watch. Is Socks ready?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Cool. Can you find the bridles from the horse show?” Christina requested, knowing full well that she was asking an annoying favor. The nice thing about being in charge, and about Kyle being a full-time employee working for a paycheck instead of exchanging labor for housing, was that she didn’t have to feel too guilty about giving him annoying things to do for her. She didn’t have to lift a muscle in her barn for anything but riding and teaching, if that’s what she wanted. That felt more apparent to her in her new stable than the one in London. It did feel more like a professional operation than a family effort, like “home”. “I need the one with the plain-mouth loose ring.”

“What for? We have three schooling bridles with plain loose rings in the rotation right now.” Kyle looked like he didn’t feel like looking for tack that wasn’t normally unpacked anyway. He looked like Tom had been driving him crazy for hours.

“I just need it. Hang it up there for me.” His other boss nodded at the grappling hook dangling from the ceiling by the granite-topped island, and then went to amble back into the short aisle to harass her husband some more. Then she remembered she didn’t need to take the bits in her hand with her, and turned around to go back and hang them on that hook. André replied before she could get back to pestering him about coming home.

“I’m on the way, but I don’t think I’m up for the walk today. Sorry pretty girl. I need to rest.”

That’s okay. Why is he sorry? He’s the one who asked me to go on the walk. He’s the one who wants to make plans all the time. I don’t mind resting with him. If anyone knows what it’s like to have ankle pain, it’s me. I hope he’s okay though, Christina thought, sympathetic. It doesn’t seem to be getting better. He hasn’t trained since before I left. He hasn’t even really told me about what’s wrong- how it hurts. I guess he didn’t want to be whiny about it while I was away. Well if I do Rizzle Kicks and Kimi quickly then maybe I can get home in time for Munchkin’s nap and he can nap on us together. Plus those two, she added, tracking Spencer and Lucky in her periphery. They followed her out of the tack room and trotted toward the main aisle at a faster clip than she was motivated to travel.

“I have two more to ride and then I’ll come up and rest with you :)”

“Chris. Where are you going? Get on this horse. I have things to do,” Tom complained from behind her. He wasn’t supposed to be getting her horses ready. He was supposed to be home already, as a matter of fact. He was supposed to just come in to check on things and then take the rest of the day to be with his family. Christina was sympathetic toward her groom too. He worked himself into a major tizzy over what the new and then ex-help did and didn’t do, and acted as if he had so many things that needed to be taken care of right away and which would keep him there all day long. He had Kyle running around to move horses in and out in between sets of buckets he was supposed to be scrubbing in the wash stall. He insisted on tacking up and putting away all the horses Christina wanted to ride. He insisted on getting his hands on every horse on the property, himself, thoroughly. Evidently having to babysit Socks on the crossties was holding up his dramatic whirlwind assault on correcting what he perceived as damage and chaos in his domain. Tom was cranky.

“I don’t know. I was just wandering around,” his new employer shrugged. I’m jet lagged. I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m out of practice on the ride at home routine. I’m thinking more about boyfriend, and I wanted food. I’m allowed, aren’t I? She thought it was fair to take a leisurely and casual approach toward her first day back after such a long spell on the road. It didn’t quite get as bad as laziness and unconsidered, so she felt it was okay. Her right hand man wanted a more precise approach toward her posted schedule, even though he wasn’t even supposed to be part of it. She put her phone in her jacket pocket and let him lead the Dutch horse down to the back door for her so that he could give her a leg up, send her on her way, and begin readying the next and final horse of the day for her. She actually asked for a tall mounting block to be built and placed outside that exit so that getting on could be a one-person job. Tom said any kind of mounting by putting one’s foot in the stirrup and then lifting the other leg over the saddle is bad for the animals’ backs and thus unacceptable. Christina was aware of that. Leaning heavily on just one side of the horse is not ideal, and can be particularly bad when someone does it from the ground because they tend to be hanging there in the one stirrup for even longer. She wanted a tall mounting block, so that she could practically just put her leg over without even needing the stirrup. Tom acknowledged that it wouldn’t be so terrible, but he still didn’t want her using it, so it didn’t get built. She wanted one down in the space between her outdoor rings, with the jump shed and the gazebo, for further convenience. He didn’t let her have that either. She was looking forward to one day just leading a horse down to those rings and using a tall jump, like the faux brick wall perhaps, to mount up on her own, just for the personal satisfaction of defeating and defying his anal thoughtfulness.

Socks and Kimi were good boys for her, and like the others she left behind, right where they belonged in terms of fitness and sharpness. Kyle and Stefanie did well with sticking to the horses’ programs, and even if their other groom for those few weeks wasn’t up to snuff for the most elite-level operation, the animals didn’t seem to notice or care. Christina visited with each one that was still inside before she left for the day, and gave them each a carrot or left one in the feed buckets in the empty stalls. André was both bright-eyed and handsome when she got home. He wasn’t as down as the tone she read in his text. He’d either done his hair nicely that morning before going to Brackel, or he showered there and did it nicely when he was finished. He had sweatpants and a t-shirt on, but his smile, and his voice, and even his eyes all told his wife that he wasn’t in a “sweatpants mood”- what she thought of as the internal need to be dressed cozily and tucked into bed or parked on the couch to do as little as possible, while less than happy with life. He had plenty of energy. He couldn’t wait for her to change her clothes and come back downstairs to play with him and Lukas.

“Am I allowed in here, or no?” he asked facetiously on the threshold of her extravagant closet. Christina was fully installed in there. Everything was put away in a Christina-way, and she usually kept pretty flowers on the counter between two of the tall shelving units. She had black and white photos on the walls, all of which were of herself. They were mostly un-used snaps from her various fashion spreads. They were a rare nod toward a vanity André thought she didn’t really possess. And he liked it. He liked the notion that she’d grown beyond just being okay with seeing herself as a model- as a physical specimen- and grown into appreciating it enough to want to be reminded of it every single day. She was humble about a lot of things, and he loved that about her. But becoming just vain enough to put up modeling photos was a little bit sexy, and despite it proving a challenge for their relationship, the player appreciated that his wife was capable of growing as an individual. He watched her learn, change, and adapt over time. The ability to do that was something he valued in any person, but needed in his partner. André and Christina found static personality types boring and sometimes frustrating.

“I suppose you can come in,” she shrugged, feigning mild irritation. She was turning her just-removed sports bra inside out, to be hung on a cabinet handle. It was against her rules to put sweaty things directly into the laundry basket.

“You look hot in white underwear,” André commented after taking a seat on her bench. It was hers after the move. It was no longer “their” incredibly expensive Van der Rohe bench. It went with the decor in her dressing room, not his, so she claimed it. The bench was an example of another Christina quirk that her partner secretly adored. She literally treasured it. She looked after it. She wouldn’t sit on it without underwear, or if she was sweaty. Lukas wasn’t allowed anywhere near it. No shoes were ever placed on it, and she was even careful about setting certain bags down on it. For example, her backpack couldn’t go there because she often set her backpack on the ground and it could thus get the precious white furniture dirty. She looked after her nice things. She looked after things that cost a lot, and things that mattered to her. André knew some girls who got their hearts set on something expensive, absolutely had to have it, loved it for a month, and then didn’t care enough about it after all to take care of it, or be mindful about using it. He poked his girl’s right butt cheek right in the middle and then leaned over to kiss the side of the other one, outside the white cotton.

“Juan calls these my grandpa underpants.”

“And does he feel positively about that? Because that would be weird, to be honest.” And why do you think I want to hear what he has to say about your underwear, he wondered. Her odd misstep didn’t hinder his fairly fine mood. He was in some pain from trying different things with the doctor and trainers. Even just walking hurt his heel and ankle a little, so he didn’t want to go trekking around the neighborhood. He wasn’t exhausted though, or worn down, or bummed. The frustration he felt at being sidelined for so long could be ignored in favor of enjoying that Christina was home. His best friend was back around, and in small panties that looked nice on her behind and did pleasing things to her hipbones.

“He didn’t say.” I took them off before we got that far into that conversation.

“Did his grandpa wear very small underpants? I don’t know any grown men who could fit into these.” The BVB man ran his fingertip up and down the inside of the small trim sectioning off her butt into equal parts of covered and bare territory.

“That’s what I said,” she laughed over her shoulder. “I think it was a color situation. He associates white undies with grandpas.”

“I associate white undies with you, because you look hot in them.”

“Are you visiting in my sovereign territory to seduce me, or were you just so struck by my hotness after you arrived that you had to play with my butt?”

“I was going to wait until later to seduce you. I really just came here to get attention.”

“Oh, I see,” Christina chuckled. “And now?”

“I don’t know. A nice way for you to give me attention would be getting into bed with me and sitting on me in these panties, maybe without the shirt though.“

“Yeah, and then what?” She had a big smile on for him. Non-serious Schü was cute, sweet, and highly entertaining to her when she was in the mood for him. Non-serious Schü was typically only unwelcome when she was upset with him and needed the serious one, or simply too tired to be amused.

“I don’t know. You could tell me about your day- about the horses, and why you sacked Camille already. These are clean hot white underwear, yes?” the player asked for verification purposes. He didn’t necessarily want to be sat on in panties that were in the saddle all day. He was still playing with the seam around the right leg opening.

“I would love to tell you about my day.” Christina was still smiling, and she was still non-serious too, but she seriously relished the invitation to share with him the events of her Monday up to that point. He didn’t always give the impression that he actually cared about the tick-tock of her life if it didn’t directly relate to him. That was part of the disconnect that was making things tough for them before she went away. “And to hear about yours too,” she added. Again, it wasn’t just lip service. “I need the update on your boo-boo, and how the guys are doing.”

“Okay. Finish whatever you were doing. I’m going to get your ice pack, and do you want juice, smoothie, coffee, or water?”

“I love you,” she sighed, almost resignedly, while spinning in place to administer a kiss for André’s kindness. Traveling for three weeks was supposed to help repair things with Dirk, and that didn’t get to happen. It was clear that it repaired things with Tom on some level. It was beginning to feel like it might have significantly helped to repair the problems with her primary partner too.

“What would you like, Prinzessin?” he asked quietly while she lingered between his knees. He kneaded small spots at the back of thighs between his thumbs and pointers, absent a more sensical idea of how to touch her but with a need to touch her somehow. Another much loved Christina Quirk was her overreaction to kind gestures. Sometimes he forgot how easy it really was to please her. The smallest exercise of his care for her, her wellbeing, and her happiness, was a big deal to her, and one she didn’t take for granted.

“Nothing.” The rider shook her head and bent down a little for a second smooch. The first was just a peck on the cheek. The sequel was square on the mouth, and savoring. I love him so much, she reflected, blues locked on his, and hands ruining his previously perfect hair. But why does it feel so weird? Why is it like I’m almost disappointed or something that I still love him- that he’s still the sweet and caring guy who makes me feel so good?

“Let me go get your ice. You should have it on already. I’ll see you in bed, okay?” The footballer in question patted her bum and winked up at her. She stepped out of the way.

[the-odd-job]

Ashes of Icarus chapter 16 - Bleed Me Dry

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Ratchet, Prowl Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2772

( Previous )

“Pits, Sunstreaker.” Ratchet ran a servo down his face. Prowl was standing behind him, his doorwings tense and a very unhappy frown as his expression.

“I fix you and you break yourself all over again in two hours? I wish that was a new record for you!” Ratchet ranted, but Sunstreaker knew he was more worried than angry. They thought this was the first time in a very, very long time that he had lost it out of his control—that his willing glitching against Megatron had had more effect on him than everyone had initially thought.

Sunstreaker knew this was now the second time his frame got the better of him, though admittedly… He hadn’t fought it as hard as he could have. He was too frustrated, too angry.

Sideswipe had paid the largest price for it. They were equal when both were in control of their minds, but once Sunstreaker snapped… Sideswipe had nothing that could match him. Sideswipe wasn’t damaged in the same way.

Sideswipe never stood a chance.

Neither did Ironhide for that matter.

Or Cliffjumper.

Or Hound.

Or Brawn.

It had taken Jazz’s intervention to end his rampage. The TIC definitely had all the tricks necessary to neutralize him, berserker or not.

Everyone else was only lucky it all had been contained to the training room.

It was the… Fucking worst episode he’d had even long before he had gained near full control of himself. For the longest time they had ended after he had taken down his primary opponent. Everyone knew to just stay out of his way, to not make threats of themselves until he’d run his course.

That should have worked.

It hadn’t, this time. They had stayed out of his way, and he had still scrapped the lot of them. 

Now all five of them lay on the medical berths in the medbay proper in various stages of fragging slagged. Sideswipe was the worst of them; he’d beaten his brother straight to unconsciousness. The others weren’t much better off, but really, they were just lucky he hadn’t straight up killed them. 

Sunstreaker himself had been confined to a private room under the fear that his mental stability was on a steep decline. And… He wasn’t sure he could really disagree with that assessment. That had been pretty bad, even he could admit that much. 

Ratchet didn’t bring it up, though, but Prowl did. He had to, when the safety of the entire Ark crew was brought into question. “How do you feel?” the doorwinger asked him.

Sunstreaker frowned. “Fine.” Aside from the physical things, anyway. His frame was again broken well beyond his ability to categorize the damage, but that was nothing new.

The terse answer definitely wasn’t what Prowl wanted, and his wings twitched before he looked at Ratchet. “How is he, medically speaking?”

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. It took him a few moments to answer. Prowl waited patiently, Sunstreaker, not so much. He was sort of dying to know how badly his mental health was declining. He didn’t feel terribly bad, but… Stress was his trigger.

And he had quite a few reasons to be stressed, which didn’t work out in anyone’s favor. Push him even a bit further towards the edge, add just one more stressor… Would this just repeat?

He was just going to get locked in the brig for everyone’s safety, if that was how things would go from now on. He’d been there before.

Had for most of the war, really.

“Some of the old code has activated,” Ratchet responded at length. “I was unsuccessful in turning it off or isolating it without bringing Sunstreaker into nonfunctionality as a side effect.”

Nice to know Ratchet had decided to keep him functional.

“So this is going to repeat?” Prowl asked sharply, his frown deepening. Both him and Sunstreaker were staring at Ratchet intently.

But the medic shook his helm. “Not necessarily. It does make it more likely, but he’ll still need a significant trigger to cause the final cascade of errors.”

Prowl mused on that for a moment before he shifted his attention back to Sunstreaker. “What triggered you this time?”

...Right. Wouldn’t they love to know. 

“I was thinking about the fight with Megatron while Sideswipe and I sparred,” Sunstreaker answered, and that was half true, wasn’t it? “I think remembering the glitching triggered it again. At least it felt like that.”

Prowl looked at Ratchet for confirmation. The medic shrugged. “Perfectly plausible.”

The tactician nodded sharply. “Sunstreaker, I will keep you in full duty once your repairs are completed. I would prefer if you spent the next month in the brig when you aren’t on duty or away from the Ark, but I won’t enforce that.”

Sunstreaker frowned, but that was fair enough considering the number he’d done on several of his comrades. “I can do that,” he agreed. Partial loss of freedom, then. “I assume I’ll get my supplies?”

“Of course.”

Nice. But, “What about a punishment?” There was no way Prowl would let him off the hook that easily, if only because the other crew members would start a fucking riot if he wasn’t punished for nearly offlining a bunch of them, mitigating factors be damned. 

“I will think of something suitable and inform you later,” Prowl said with an incline of his helm. Sunstreaker nodded his acceptance of that. So, hang around in the brig for the time being until he’d proven he wasn’t going to snap every few moments, and wait until Prowl came up with an actual punishment on top of that.

Pretty mild, all things considered.

“If that’s all..?” Prowl asked, glancing between him and Ratchet. Sunstreaker shook his helm.

“I’ll comm. you if something comes up,” Ratchet grunted. Prowl nodded to that before he left the room, the door closing on his heels.

And then it was just him and Ratchet, and that wasn’t how Sunstreaker would have preferred it when Ratchet immediately brought up the one thing Sunstreaker didn’t want to talk about at all. “This is about the sparkling, isn’t it?”

Sunstreaker glared, but Ratchet only frowned back at him.

For the longest time neither of them said anything, Sunstreaker refusing to confirm or deny a damn thing, and Ratchet’s field growing more frustrated by the second.

The medic eventually broke the silence. “Medical confidentiality, Sunstreaker. You can tell me, and no one else will hear about it. Why won’t you trust me?” Ratchet didn’t say it, but it still hung between them: like you have before.

They’d told many, many things to Ratchet, things they hadn’t spoken about with anyone else, because Ratchet would keep quiet. They’d trusted he would keep quiet.

Just… Not about this.

This was too big.

Sunstreaker averted his optics and said nothing. The silence stretched on, and on, and on, but this was one thing he’d never tell to any Autobot.

It would come to light eventually, anyway. It was just a matter of time.

So what did it matter if he sped up the process? Told someone?

No. He couldn’t do that. Pits, he was fragged either way, but he couldn’t do that.

Let time do it for him if it had to. 

Ratchet gave up after what felt like an eternity, sighing heavily, and Sunstreaker could feel his hurt no matter how he tried to hide it. “Okay,” the medic said quietly before he straightened himself and brushed it all aside and away. “I will put you into stasis until I’ve done your repairs.”

Sunstreaker nodded, Ratchet plugged in, and stasis it was.

Again.

-------------------------------------------------------

If he had been ostracized for his bad attitude before, now everyone did so twice as hard. It was vexing, but he wasn’t surprised the vast majority of them would react like that to his rather extreme burst of violence. The Autobots were soft, feebleminded things that didn’t speak the same language he and Sideswipe did.

The lot of them had never been to the Pits and back.

And they feared what they didn’t understand.

Megatron had said it. Where Sunstreaker could only feel apathy when it came to his case of insanity, and where Sideswipe just accepted it as it was, his comrades were afraid of it.

Megatron wasn’t. Megatron had fought him, a berserker going berserk, and once he’d won… He had shown no hard feelings. Had only acknowledged the return of his faculties, left it at that. Like it was no big deal.

Was that the overarching theme among all the Decepticons? Most of them originated from the low castes, knew what the life at the bottom was like—if they weren’t straight up gladiators themselves.

Would they understand?

He continued to be tetchy, but while he was sure everyone expected him to snap at any moment, he didn’t feel that level of stress.

At least, so long as he didn’t think too hard about the mess his fragging life had become. Ratchet’s threat hung over everything he did. Even if he’d had some hope of keeping the identity of the sparklet’s sire a secret even once it became impossible to hide he was carrying… That wouldn’t be if Ratchet found out about Megatron.

Sixteen months. That was how long he could pretend his life was fine.  

After that… Slag if he knew.

And he had no fragging clue what he expected to happen or what he even wanted Megatron to do about it, but he wanted to inform him of Ratchet’s threat. Just… Pits.

Why?

Because Megatron was the only one who was even halfway an ally in this situation? The only one who even knew? Well, him, and Soundwave. Soundwave knew too. Maybe some other Decepticons too. How could he be sure Megatron saw any reason to keep it to himself?

How sad was that, that the goddamn leader of the enemy army had become his confidant.

The worst enemy of his own leader.

He was going all over behind Optimus’ back. What was some more of that, huh?

They started to take the longer patrols again. No one really questioned it, just happy when Sunstreaker wasn’t grumping around the Ark—and Prowl approved of his supposed attempt to burn out his energy with the long ass drives.

The less he had of that, the less likely he was to bring some more pain on his fellows, right?

But for the longest time, it just didn’t work. Megatron had said they’d be in contact again, but there was absolutely no sign of him even as the days stretched to weeks, and weeks into a full month.

And then there were only fifteen months left for him. 

Two more weeks, and he was ready to fucking explode every moment he spent awake. Sideswipe did his best to keep his mood from souring any further, but there was only so much even his twin was capable of.

He didn’t glitch again, though, even if it was a damn near thing a few times. But Sideswipe dragged him from the scene every time, shoved him in their quarters—distracted him. 

Month and a half, then they finally got some results. Not in the exact way they were hoping for, but when Soundwave’s signature popped up on their scanners, some ways ahead of them… Frag, it was better than nothing.

So they sped up until they could see the telepath standing on the side of the road, looking their way already.

Waiting for them.

“Where’s Megatron?” Sunstreaker demanded as soon as he and Sideswipe had transformed, stalking towards the blue mech that, to his credit, didn’t back down.

“Megatron: busy,” Soundwave answered. A thunderous growl rose in Sunstreaker’s engine.

“I’m carrying that bastard’s slagging sparkling and he’s too damn busy to show up?” What the fuck? 

“Megatron: leader of an army,” and how Soundwave managed to make that mechanical voice of his sound cold, Sunstreaker would never know. 

But clearly Soundwave wasn’t too impressed with his attitude. “Soundwave sent instead,” the TIC continued. Sunstreaker threw his arms up.

“So I should be grateful?”

“Yes.” 

...Well, he wasn’t expecting that level of bluntness. The brothers blinked at Soundwave before Sunstreaker shook himself off and started to pace back and forth in front of the Decepticon. Soundwave wasn’t Megatron, but Soundwave knew, and it appeared Megatron had sent him for the explicit purpose of–

Actually, come to think of it, how the pit had either Megatron or Soundwave known he had something urgent enough on his mind that it was worth it to just send Soundwave?

“Soundwave: knows all.”

Was that a fucking joke?

“You!” Sunstreaker rounded on the taller mech, jabbing a digit at his chest. “Stay the frag out of my head!”

“No.”

Oh my god.

Sideswipe laughed out loud, prompting Sunstreaker to snap at him too before he went back to pacing around, glowering at the blue mech all the while. “At least slagging wait for me to talk like a normal mech. Seriously.”

Soundwave said no more, so Sunstreaker took that as the telepath’s acquiescence. 

No doubt Soundwave knew exactly what was going on in his head already, but he did actually stay silent for the duration it took for Sunstreaker to organize his thoughts enough to put them into words. There were a few false starts, but then, “Ratchet wants to know who the slag the sparkling’s sire is,” Sunstreaker ground out. “He gave us sixteen months before he’s gonna check the spec ops records for ‘Con signatures. And that was six weeks ago.” So, fourteen and a half months anymore.

“Desired course of action?” Soundwave asked.

And if Sunstreaker had known the answer to that, he’d be one happy mech.

But he didn’t, so he stopped in his pacing and dragged both of his servos down his beautiful fragging faceplates. “I don’t slagging know, okay? The sparkling’s signature is gonna become scannable around that time too, right? So someone else might realize who the sire is too. And even if that doesn’t happen, I’ve got no faith in Ratchet being allowed to keep it a secret.”

He could see Soundwave slowly nodding from the corner of his optic. Mech probably knew more about the Autobot code than he did. Soundwave knows all, was it?

So was that confirmation that the identity of the sparkling’s sire would override medical confidentiality?

Sunstreaker’s shoulders slumped. There was no good ending to this, was there?

“Defect?” Soundwave said—asked, offered? Sunstreaker dropped his servos to properly glare at the mech.

“No,” he snarled. Frag it all but he wasn’t going to just defect because of this.

Even if his days as an Autobot were most likely numbered. If nothing else, he was sure to get dishonorably discharged once the command learned about this whole damn mess. 

And that was really the best outcome he could realistically hope for. The other options went downhill from there.

Soundwave didn’t argue like Megatron likely would have. He merely nodded again. “Soundwave: will relay information to Megatron.”

“Thanks,” Sunstreaker said and Sideswipe nodded along. At least Megatron would be in the know.

What the slag he would do with the info, Sunstreaker just didn’t know.

And all of this after he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Leader of an army yeah yeah, but he had slagging gotten him pregnant. Wasn’t that pretty important too?

Soundwave probably heard those thoughts too, but he didn’t say anything about it. “This all?” he asked instead.

Sunstreaker gave it a few seconds of honest thought because who knew when the frag the next time he’d have any line of communication with Megatron would be, but he came up empty. “Yeah,” he responded with a small shrug. “That’s all.”

Soundwave nodded, ejected Lazerbeak, and transformed. Lazerbeak had a glance at them before he grabbed Soundwave into his claws and… Flew off.

Some way to get transported around, geez.

The twins stared after the retreating wannabe vulture for a while before Sideswipe walked over to his side. His brother was still pulsing amusement and Sunstreaker glared at him too for good measure.

But there was really nothing for them to do now, except wait and see what would happen—on any front, be it coming from Ratchet, or Megatron.

Slagging Megatron who sent his goddamn third in command in his place because he had more important things to do than give the time of day to Sunstreaker.

Who was carrying his fragging sparkling.

Oh, the damn mech would hear about that still. 

Sideswipe snickered at him before they transformed and continued on their patrol, never to report the ‘Decepticon activity’ they’d already run into. 

( Next )

[thanksjro]

Last Stand of the Wreckers, Issue #1: A Couple of Nerds Nerd it Up

The year is 2009, and you are a British man in his mid-30s. You were a part of a fan club for Transformers in the 90’s, and you wrote a lot of fanfiction and comic scripts for it. The only real claim to fame you have is a novel-length fic you wrote to try and bridge the gap between Generation 1 and the Beast War era, one that a lot of people have read and refer back to. You’re pretty content with that, and don’t try to break into any sort of writing career on your own. You have a job in public service, you have a family.

 One day, your old buddy Nick gets in contact. He wants some help with a story he’s working on for the current holder of the Transformers comics. It’s called Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Things are about to get very busy for you.

I’ll go ahead and say it- not any mechpreg in this one. You gotta wait until the sequel series for things to get weirdly horny, sorry to say. Also, technically only a plotting credit for Roberts here.

We hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he was allowed to rub his grubby little nerd hands all over everything.

So, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of this thing, shall we?

Our story opens on a lovely, sunshiney day on the beautiful Garrus-9.

Perfect weather for a picnic, don’t you agree?

Fortress Maximus and his cohorts are hard at work defending against the Decepticon forces, who have launched an attack on just about everything in the galaxy. This event is happening in the background of All Hail Megatron, as part of an offensive attack under the orders of ol’ Buckethead himself.

Kick-Off, another Autobot at Garrus-9, thinks that this is the work of someone on the inside, and Fort Max wants his prison intact for when they find the rat bastard who caused all this mess to happen, so he can lock that son of a gun up for a long, long time.

Then Overlord shows up.

There he is, the nastiest creature to grace the galaxy, a bitch so extra he’s apparently got to cycle through BOTH of his alt-modes before he lands on the scene to wreck shop.

Prior to Last Stand of the Wreckers, Overlord didn’t really have a whole lot going on. It’s a big part of why he was made the antagonist for this miniseries- nobody else was using him, so no risk of fudging up any continuity happening outside of it. Prior to this, he was mostly part of the Japanese Transformers scene, appearing in the Super-God Masterforce anime and manga. He had a reputation for being a bad dude there too, but not quite to the level we’ll be getting to here.

Also, he was actually two people, who were married. He is not a married couple in Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Overlord asks which one of the much weaker, smaller, and less terrifyingly kissable Decepticons is in charge, and Skyquake steps up, despite the fact that everyone is obviously nervous about the fact Overlord is here. Overlord lets Skyquake know that the plan Megatron came up with is out, and he’s got the new hotness that’ll really put Garrus-9 on a map labelled “Places That Are the Actual Worst.” Of course, Skyquake, who seems to think a guy named Overlord can be reasoned with, says that they can’t deviate from Megatron’s grand plan, and promptly is shot to death for his troubles.

And that’s a series wrap on Skyquake! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

With the little dude out of the way, Overlord’s decided it’s time to go full cowl on the Autobots, ripping them limb from limb. Literally, in some cases. It’s pretty gruesome, but then again, that’s kind of the point. This is a pretty dark miniseries, and not just because of all the violence- but we’ll get to all that later on.

With the Autobots subdued, it’s time for Overlord to really strut his stuff. He releases all the Decepticon prisoners, and promises them a grand old time of torturing their former captives. As a show of good will…? he throws them Fort Max to play with, saying that the only rule is they have to at least TRY to not kill him.

Smash cut to two years, four months, later.

Some nerds just got put on the Wreckers, and they truly are the cream of the crop.

Garrus-9’s gonna be in good hands.

The dude who’s totally copping Optimus Prime’s look is Pyro, and the little dude with the blue helmet and tragic backstory is Ironfist. There’s also Dipstick, but this isn’t about him.

Just as things look like they can’t get any more exploded, their ride shows up, and it’s time to go. They say they’ll catch Dipstick later, but that’s honestly pretty unlikely, given the nature of the Wreckers as a group.

The boys load up into the ship, but find something not quite to their expectations- instead of Ultra Magnus being there to greet them, it’s none other than Verity Carlo, human extraordinaire!

And she’s in her jammies. No real point in getting dressed for a bunch of guys who don’t even understand the concept of nudity, I guess, though I do have to question how vacuum sealed her breasts are.

Unless Verity is one of those godless heathens who actually owns an underwire sports bra.

The boys react to their first human in different ways- Ironfist has his parental instincts kick in hard, immediately ready to protect and potentially die for Verity. The others are a little less impressed, claiming that she’s some sort of stowaway who Magnus only puts up with because she’s good at playing house.

Kind of weird that these giant robots are so good at sexism, seeing as at this point, none of them should even know what a woman is.

This is the point where the big guns come in to greet our boys.

So, here’s the deal: Garrus-9’s been out of contact with the rest of the Autobots for over a year at this point, and it was recently revealed by a mole in the Decepticon Justice Division that anyone getting even remotely close to the planet has been shot down. The destruction of the space bridges means that only a few folks are able to get to the place- cue the Wreckers.

Our boys have been chosen because they’ve done a lot of good work, and protected those around them. It’s an honor to be a Wrecker, but there’s always a catch:

I’m sure it’ll be fine!

Flashback to two years ago, back on Garrus-9, and Overlord’s really enjoying his time on the prison planet, hunting Autobots for sport and scaring the bejesus out of everyone by popping out of nowhere.

This is a typical reaction to seeing Overlord when he DOESN’T intend to kill you. The guy’s a menace.

Looks like they caught their prey, and they’re feeling pretty good about it. What a nice thing for them, I’m glad they’re having fun.

How does this guy know where he’s going? His chest’s so tall.

Our Autobot isn’t going down without a fight, though, as he takes the spear they’re stabbing him with and gives the ‘Cons a taste of their own medicine.

For about two seconds anyway, then he gets wasted by Overlord.

Of course, Overlord’s an equal-opportunity sadist, and also blasts the two guys who let a wounded Autobot get the better of them. With the game concluded and a valuable lesson taught, the Decepticons retire to the base, Overlord ordering the tall-chested guy- Snare- to bring the Autobot for recycling, something that Snare doesn’t seem terribly thrilled to do.

Seriously though, has this dude ever seen his feet?

Back on Ultra Magnus’ ship, Ironfist’s gone and passed out. When he wakes up, he’s surrounded by the rest of the boys, who are really concerned about his well-being. Aww, it’s sweet that they care so much about their buddy.

Ironfist brushes off the concern, saying that he’s fine, and then we’re introduced to his deep, dark, horrible secret.

He’s a massive fucking nerd.

And so are the guys who worked on this story. T’muk, indeed. Also, this robot has... my word, are those fingerprints? Roche, you spoil us.

Ironfist writes datalogs on the Wreckers in his spare time under the screen name Fisitron - Wreckers: Declassified, it’s called. Which, you know, good for him.

Well this panel’s art direction isn’t ominous AT ALL.

Springer enters the scene at this point, also very concerned about Ironfist, to an honestly interesting degree. Almost like he knows something. Ironfist, again, brushes it off. Kup notes that Springer seems like he’s got something on his mind, which he does.

That something is the fact that he’s most likely sending these boys to die, as is the nature of the Wreckers.

Kup points out that it always feels worse when people die under your personal command, then asks if Springer’s conscience is being weighed on by Impactor at all. Springer seems like he really doesn’t want to talk about Impactor. Before the conversation can get any more soaked in implications, the two are called to the bridge.

A flashback to a month prior on Garrus-9: Overlord watches as Kick-Off brutalizes a Decepticon, Borehole, in combat for his amusement. It seems like Kick-Off’s done pretty well for himself in the nightmare hellscape that is Garrus-9, though it’s probably because he’s running on basic survival instincts at this point as opposed to any actual enjoyment of what’s happening around him.

Kick-Off wins the fight by ripping Borehole’s head off.

That’s pretty metal. Most of what happens on Garrus-9 is pretty metal. Not in a good way. But metal nonetheless.

With the fight finished, Overlord congratulates the victor, and invites him back to his quarters to pick out his prize. Kick-Off seems to be off in his own little world at this point, probably disassociating due to trauma.

Back with the Wreckers, we finally see Ultra Magnus, Verity’s put a shirt on- likely at Magnus’ request- and we see what Springer and Kup were called to the bridge for. Looks like a Decepticon ship’s been shooting out a distress signal, and it ain’t lookin’ so hot at present. Ultra Magnus attempts to hail, but it looks like too little, too late, as the thing’s hull integrity goes kaput and the whole thing explodes.

Seems like the end of that, right?

Nah.

Wow, that sure seems like it’ll be a problem. Better shoot that mysterious figure to death before they can be recognized by the cast and cause a whole slew of issues.

Aw, man! Too late. Looks like someone broke out of jail, and nobody is happy to see him.

With that character reveal, we end Issue #1 of Last Stand of the Wreckers.