tf-es-unbreakable-au

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

When you accidentally create a transformers au based around a roblox game

And now Jazz is a moon God and Prowl is a sun God and they're gay.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

ALLEYWAY STAKE-OUT (ft. Scene!Megatron & Scene!Optimus)

Other version ⬇️

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Why's he so

This is the calmest Prowl has been all week.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Regiment

"I'm here because I wanna help." The mech had made their intentions clear, if not a bit off-putting.

Needless to say, agent croft wasn't too convinced.

"You want to... help these criminals?" The smaller human quirked an authoritative brow.

"That's what I said, did I not?"

"I suppose you did... so tell me - what was your designation?" Croft asked

"I'm called hardhelm, pleased to make your acquaintance..."

"Agent croft." She finished.

The silence in the air had made the subtle tension much more palpable.

"So, hardhelm... how do you intend to "help" these decepticons?" She put her hands together, intertwining each digit while observing hardhelm's every move...

In truth, he never knew something so small could make him feel so uneasy.

The mech took a deep intake, preparing his explanation.

"By instilling in them purpose and maybe even guidance to any that'd let me." They met optics with agent croft, and made every word clear and concise.

This was the first time croft had broken her usual scowl. Instead, her brows shot up in disbelief.

"Guidance... for giant robots that are most likely older than our ancestors ancestors..." Croft said the words slowly, like she was trying to understand a completely foreign language, before letting out a scoff.

"What a joke." And with that, hardhelm felt his opportunity slipping away. He had to say something.

"Well when you put it that simply, nothing seems like a good solution, now does it?"

"What we're doing here is for the betterment of not just mankind, but cybertronians, too. There's a reason we keep them locked up tight, it's because they're dangerous." Now hardhelm was getting irritated with her tone, she had no need to talk down to him like he didn't know just how dangerous these mechs were.

"And your solution is...? Let them rot in prison cells while they start to hate you more and more? What do you think is gonna happen when they escape, not if, WHEN."

"Our facilities have the most cutting edge technology in both human and cybertronian logistics -"

"And I can guarantee it's nothing like the other prisons these cons have spent time in... you humans have a name for that, right? Something like "hardened criminals." You and the other 'bots must've forgotten who we're dealing with here."

For a long moment, the two eyed eachother down.

Croft sighed and rubbed at her eyes before relenting.

"What is your proposal." She didn't even say it like a question, more as a command.

"I've done some digging on you humans and found some things both our races might enjoy... combat."

"Are you suggesting gladiator pits?!" Croft stood up suddenly.

"No, no, primus no... I'm talking about these "sports" you humans have... most of them aren't ideal for cybertronian participation, but there is one I've found that I believe I could be a great help with.

Croft had since taken her seat once again, still a bit uneasy and unsure of where hardhelm was going with this.

"And that is..."

"Boxing."

More silence.

"...boxing?" Croft repeated, and hardhelm nodded.

"Like... punching each other, boxing?"

Hardhelm groaned

"Yes, punching each other with fists... does that spell it out?"

Croft stared at him even longer, the same confusion plastered on her face.

Hardhelm sighed.

"Look, I know it sounds odd... but I've done a bit more digging and you humans have had success with it amongst yourselves... even certain prisons have their own boxing programs which gives outlets for these individuals while also giving them something to strive for."

He could practically see the gears in her helm turning as she slowly nodded while digesting every words he said.

For a moment, she seemed conflicted.

"I'm not... saying it doesn't work. What I am saying, is that we can't draw parallels from humans to cybertronians, not yet, anyways."

Hardhelm bent down to her level as best he could.

"Then I'm asking you to let me try... if something ends up going wrong, then by all means, blame it on me... but I think I can do something good here, I just need your help and goo's faith."

Agent croft seemed to be debating inwardly... it was making hardhelm nervous.

"....how about this, you can even have your human researchers observe my fighters... you're talking about how you didn't have the behavioral data to really draw parallels from humans to cybertronians? Well, there you go!" He said to sweeten the deal.

Croft held a hand up, and spoke.

"We have a new wing under construction... it was supposed to be for research and logistics, but this seems like it could be useful to us as a whole... I'll have them set aside some space, after that I'll need a list of equipment you need... don't make me regret this."

"You won't... thank you for this, I won't let you down!"

That'd been a months ago, since then, construction had come to a head.

It was a pretty big wing, with a massive corridor that separated into intersections with doors to different rooms.

Hardhelm got accustomed to his new space, it was up to the first left, and the last door on the right.

The space for the training room was deceptively large, with enough room to fit all his (albeit, modified to fit cybertronian proportions) equipment, a ring held together by chains, as there wasn't exactly a kind of rope strong enough to support a cybertronian's weight, and several other odds and ends.

In the back left of the room was a station with 3 massive bags filled with plasters and foams to minimize servo-damage, these were held by a hook and chain that hung a few inches from the ceiling and secured to the ground by another hook with a shorter chain to add tension.

In the left were speedbags, small free-moving bags held by a hook and socket. Good for training servo-optic coordination as well as timing and punching rhythm.

A bit away from the speedbags, on the same side, was the ring. It was much larger than the ones humans use for obvious reasons, but was good for setting up sparring sessions and practicing general movement, he could even set up a rope at helm-level to train slips and ducks.

And it included an observation booth at the top of the room itself, with blacked out glass tints to maintain anonymity and secrecy.

In the few years that followed, he'd gotten a small stable of fighters, many of which didn't stick around too long. But the ones that did, hardhelm was able to steer them in the right direction and even got some of them to integrate back with the autobots, allowing them to be released.

And it all began with a femme, the first fighter who stuck around.

Unfortunately, with this new operation came some side-effects.

Someone had snuck a picture of hardhelm training his fighters, sent it to their friends, who sent it to their friends and before anyone knew it, the WBC came knocking.

Yes, the WBC wanted to try and dip their fingers in this still-baking pie. It started with their own little thing, WSC, the Wrought-steel championship.

Needless to say, the sub-organization took off, and they began to host their own events as a spectacle on their own, and with the groundbridge repaired, more and more cybertronians began to come knocking. And of course, the WSC ended up amassing a fairly big roster, with some good talent as well in the still-budding sport.

Eventually, the WBC got in contact with G.H.O.S.T. to try get an even larger roster, with old hardhelm spearheading it all.

It took a bit of financial pressure and moral pressure from hardhelm and a few other select autobots, but by some great miracle of primus, the contract was signed. And now hardhelm could take his fighters to the professional level, not just little sparring marches and competitions.

Hardhelm had guided this femme up the rankings of the seeker-weight division, and even showed interest in getting heavier modifications to try her hand at wrecker-weight, the division above.

Watching her wrap that seeker-weight world championship around her chasis made him swell with a pride he hadn't felt in eons.

But now, it was coming to a head.

"Boss... can I talk to you?" It'd been the later hours of the day, starting to get dark. Hardhelm was confused as to why she wasn't back in her cell.

He shifted to face the femme.

"Sure, what's going on?"

The femme shifted nervously, her now heavier, but equally sleek frame, caused her pedes to clang slightly on the metal floor.

"Well, it... I recently spoke with my corrections agent and my..." She seemed to take a deep breath, and hardhelm felt anticipation build up in his spark.

"I've been... I've been deemed fit to re-enter society... no longer considered a danger." She craned her helm back slightly, as if worried.

He felt the anticipation explode into a flood of joy.

He stood up, maybe too fast as she'd recoiled back slightly.

"That's amazing...! That's incredible!" He exclaimed, stepping towards the femme with his arms spread out.

She accepted the embrace, and felt coolant well up in her optics.

"I couldn't have done it without you... I couldn't have... so thank you.." She breathed out.

After a moment, the two pulled back and she wiped at her eyes.

"Sorry, I just feel like I've been here for ages... started to think I'd never leave... you were the only thing keeping me sane for awhile."

Hardhelm gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Then I've done my job... now if I see you in here again, I'll be pissed!" He half joked, earning a bark of a laugh.

"As if! I'm never coming back here... it's the smell, y'know?" She squinted with a quick nod.

The two laughed it out and spent some time sharing memories. They'd only known each other for maybe the better part of 2 or 3 years , but circumstance had given them an unshakable bond.

And when he'd helped her pack her things, he felt that the training room was a bit emptier... but it's history became richer.

But now, he had an issue to deal with. One that he couldn't afford to ignore, no matter how happy he was. His roster was down another fighter.

He could just wait for another con to show up, but he was sort of in a rush to get someone. He asked for a list of all the inmates brought within the last year or so.

While they ex-con inmates were *allowed* to fight on a professional scale, that didn't mean they were *treated* like professionals. They were mainly brought in as short-notice replacements and almost never made it far due to (at least in comparison to the WBC) their lack of resources. More or less, they were cannon fodder.

A few names caught his eye and he noted them down, later that day asking to see each one...

It wasn't a successful affair.

"Just one...just one Is all I need!"

The joy from a few hours ago lingered but had now taken a backseat.

"Next one it is..." correction, *last* one it is.

He'd already gone down the list in the passing hours and he'd came to the final name on the roster; starscream.

He knew the name. Pretty much anyone who had any sort of involvement in the war knew of megatron's second, and the seekers list of crimes seemed to stretch on and on.

But he had to try...

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

*time skip to after chapter 1*

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

The cell door shut behind him and he took a deep vent. It could've gone better but it also could've gone worse.

There wasn't a guarantee that the slot had been filled, but at least there was a chance, and that was better than what he had before.

He headed back towards the training room, the humans had moved their surveillance and reseaech equipment in the observation room.

It was post-hours so he was left to his own devices, to his routine.

He began cleaning the equipment, he foecused on each piece he was cleaning.

He started with the bags, he wiped them down with wet towels before doing the same with towels doused in sanitizer.

He went around in slowly, a flash went before his optics as he did.

He focused harder on what he was doing, once he finished, he moved on to scrubbing the ring.

He grabbed the squeegee and as he went over, he swore he saw a hint of blue.

Looking back, nothing was there. Just the black of the canvas.

"Fraggin'..." he grumbled.

The next cycle, there was nothing; just the usual goers and some who were just looking for a joor of entertainment.

But the next solar cycle was when hardhelm realized that he'd retained his silver tongue.

"C'mon everyone, keep up!" He shouted at his students as he worked among them.

He'd found out long ago that no one would ever follow him unless he demonstrated that he could preform what was asked, so it became part of his instructional routine; he'd preform what he was asking of his students to show them what was being asked.

This day was endurance, and he never slacked on endurance. In his book, if someone couldn't keep up at all points of a fight then they already lost, so he didn't let anyone else slack.

"C'mon, primus-dammit! You wanna get put out in front of everyone?!" He screamed at the top of his intakes.

He also knew that with rowdy decepticons, sometimes gaining their respect meant scaring them sometimes.

And boy, could hardhelm get loud.

As he watched them train, he heard the door slide open.

"New arrival in the bay!" The humans announced.

A familiar, sleek frame, hunched over slightly in his posture, was being escorted by another 2 autobots.

He left his students, beckoning them to continue.

"Go 'till the bell!" He yelled after them.

He strutted up to the trio, full of confidence and swagger.

"Got you hooked, did I?" He said with a smirk.

The seeker growled.

"Don't give yourself too much credit, there was nothing else to do.' He said matter-of-factly.

Hardhelm simply snickered as the autobots undid his status cuffs and shut the doors.

When the others noticed starscream, it got so quiet that one could hear a mouse whisper.

Even in his own ranks, he hadn't been very popular.

Hardhelm looked behind him, at all his students staring in their direction. The tension was palpable, and hardhelm had to think fast.

"Get gone!" He yelled out, and they all continued what they were doing.

He turned back to starscream, who was much more on edge now.

"We won't be doing anything just yet... you're going to fight, yes?" Starscream looked at him entirely perplexed.

"Wh-why wo- I just got here!" He hissed

"Just...trust me and say yes."

"I... sure?" Starscream relented.

Hardhelm clapped his servos together.

"Perfect, then we're not doing anything yet! You're gonna sit tight and watch for the next..." starscream noticed hardhelms optics drifting up and to the left.

"...23 minutes."

And that's exactly what he did, for the next 23 minutes he was absolutely bored out of his processor, but as he looked at each mech as they trained, a small bit of abhorrent recognition sent a jolt to his processor like static electricity.

He'd done all these mechs wrong in one way or another. His optics had grown quite interested in the floor within these past few joors.

After what felt like a millennia, the final buzzer sounded. The piercing buzz startled starscream.

"Alright, everyone I know you all wanna stay but rules are rules... if it were up to me it'd be different but it's not." Hardhelm reasoned with bis dejected students as they went back to their respective cells.

As they passed by him, even though his gaze had been stuck elsewhere, he still felt their passing glances, their unspoken curses, and their undying rage towards him.

And why would he try to convince them to feel different?

"Ready to begin?" The seeker was snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. Hardhelm seemed a bit exhausted from his previous endeavor, so it looked like starscream would be mostly training on his own with hardhelm throwing in some pointers.

As it would turn out, hardhelm had quite a bit left in his tank.

"Follow me... I'm gonna assume this is your first time doing this so I'll go over the basics."

Starscream scoffed.

"Don't patronize me, autobot. It's fighting, fairly simple, is it not?" Hardhelm looked at starscream like he'd genuinely insulted him personally.

"Oh, alright then... so you know how to manipulate distance, find range, cut angles with your pedework, pick the right shots, time them perfectly EVEN..." hardhelm took a deep vent in as he'd ran out of air.

"...while your opponent is throwing heat, no, BOMBS back at you... you know how to do that all, right?" Hardhelms rant had finally ended and starscream glared at him in silence.

"I'm teaching you this cuz it'll help you get hurt less out there... I'm gonna start simple today, simple pede placement and moving in different directions."

He strolled to stand in front of starscream.

He put his left pede in front and slid his back pede back a bit and pointed it off to the side slightly for extra balance.

"At no point in a fight should your pedes ever break this formation, this is your base. Not only does it dictate how balanced you are and, by extension, how many hits you can take; but it's also where any and all of your punching power will be generated from."

Starscream mimicked it, but something about his left pede forwards and his right pede backwards just didn't feel right.

"No I want you to take a step forwards without breaking that pede formation. Step forwards with the left pede and bring the right one behind you."

Starscream did as asked, but there was a certain unsteadiness in his stance. At first, hardhelm figured it was because he was new to this.

"Now to move to either side, same principle. The pede that's on that respective side always moves first... for backwards, opposite applies but I'll teach you how to cut angles backing up, and why backing up in a straight line is a horrible idea later."

For the next few hours, hardhelm coached starscream through the basics of movement. He noted the small stumbles whenever he'd try to speed things up, but by all accounts, starscream was quite nimble on his pedes.

Soon enough he was able to teach him footwork patterns, how to circle, pivot, and cut angles.

It took a bit for starscream to get used to his new base, but eventually, hardhelm was able to speed things up a bit.

"You've said all these things about punching, and here I am learning how to move... is there a point to this?" Starscream asked.

"In fact, there is... safety first, as they say."

While the slight impatience was something he expected from all of his students, he was a tad surprised someone as vocal as starscream had only just now said something.

But there was one rule hardhelm followed when it came to training others: the first lesson will always be on movement.

Unfortunately, after that, starscream had to go back to his cell.

The same two autobots came and escorted him, as he hadn't done enough to earn enough trust to have any sort of freedom to leave his cell without direct and armed supervision.

He soon felt the familiar sense of emptiness creeping back up and sinking it's talons into him once again at the sight of his cell.

He walked in and waited for the cell to shut before shutting off the lights.

But not to recharge, he simply couldn't.

Doing what he always did, he watched more memories. Some he'd seen before, others he didn't and his spark ached at his own inability to help himself. He constantly felt a pull to watch, in almost a "look what you've done" fashion.

It tore at the outside walls of his spark but dug no deeper. There was no need for any real injury, only pain.

But it got tiring, and boring. The desire to be productive could've either been simple boredom, or the seeker-born phenomena known as "sky-hunger" manifesting itself in an odd way...

Either way, he had to do something, he just didn't know what.

He looked around his space, it wasn't terribly small and had next to nothing inside of it save his berth and a table he could easily move off to the corner.

He sighed and got up, moving his table.

He stood in the middle, praying everyone else was recharging and wouldn't see him.

He started slowly at first, staying light on his pedes just as taught. But he tried something else, as well.

Instead of putting his left pede forwards and his right pede back, he switched it. Right forward, left back.

And it felt like slipping on a glove.

He was much more stable, much more coordinated as well. He could make sharp movements with no difficulty and execute pivots, stutter-steps, and "falling steps" in chains.

For that discovery, he allowed himself to feel a small bit of satisfaction.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Regiment

"I'm here because I wanna help." The mech had made their intentions clear, if not a bit off-putting.

Needless to say, agent croft wasn't too convinced.

"You want to... help these criminals?" The smaller human quirked an authoritative brow.

"That's what I said, did I not?"

"I suppose you did... so tell me - what was your designation?" Croft asked

"I'm called hardhelm, pleased to make your acquaintance..."

"Agent croft." She finished.

The silence in the air had made the subtle tension much more palpable.

"So, hardhelm... how do you intend to "help" these decepticons?" She put her hands together, intertwining each digit while observing hardhelm's every move...

In truth, he never knew something so small could make him feel so uneasy.

The mech took a deep intake, preparing his explanation.

"By instilling in them purpose and maybe even guidance to any that'd let me." They met optics with agent croft, and made every word clear and concise.

This was the first time croft had broken her usual scowl. Instead, her brows shot up in disbelief.

"Guidance... for giant robots that are most likely older than our ancestors ancestors..." Croft said the words slowly, like she was trying to understand a completely foreign language, before letting out a scoff.

"What a joke." And with that, hardhelm felt his opportunity slipping away. He had to say something.

"Well when you put it that simply, nothing seems like a good solution, now does it?"

"What we're doing here is for the betterment of not just mankind, but cybertronians, too. There's a reason we keep them locked up tight, it's because they're dangerous." Now hardhelm was getting irritated with her tone, she had no need to talk down to him like he didn't know just how dangerous these mechs were.

"And your solution is...? Let them rot in prison cells while they start to hate you more and more? What do you think is gonna happen when they escape, not if, WHEN."

"Our facilities have the most cutting edge technology in both human and cybertronian logistics -"

"And I can guarantee it's nothing like the other prisons these cons have spent time in... you humans have a name for that, right? Something like "hardened criminals." You and the other 'bots must've forgotten who we're dealing with here."

For a long moment, the two eyed eachother down.

Croft sighed and rubbed at her eyes before relenting.

"What is your proposal." She didn't even say it like a question, more as a command.

"I've done some digging on you humans and found some things both our races might enjoy... combat."

"Are you suggesting gladiator pits?!" Croft stood up suddenly.

"No, no, primus no... I'm talking about these "sports" you humans have... most of them aren't ideal for cybertronian participation, but there is one I've found that I believe I could be a great help with.

Croft had since taken her seat once again, still a bit uneasy and unsure of where hardhelm was going with this.

"And that is..."

"Boxing."

More silence.

"...boxing?" Croft repeated, and hardhelm nodded.

"Like... punching each other, boxing?"

Hardhelm groaned

"Yes, punching each other with fists... does that spell it out?"

Croft stared at him even longer, the same confusion plastered on her face.

Hardhelm sighed.

"Look, I know it sounds odd... but I've done a bit more digging and you humans have had success with it amongst yourselves... even certain prisons have their own boxing programs which gives outlets for these individuals while also giving them something to strive for."

He could practically see the gears in her helm turning as she slowly nodded while digesting every words he said.

For a moment, she seemed conflicted.

"I'm not... saying it doesn't work. What I am saying, is that we can't draw parallels from humans to cybertronians, not yet, anyways."

Hardhelm bent down to her level as best he could.

"Then I'm asking you to let me try... if something ends up going wrong, then by all means, blame it on me... but I think I can do something good here, I just need your help and goo's faith."

Agent croft seemed to be debating inwardly... it was making hardhelm nervous.

"....how about this, you can even have your human researchers observe my fighters... you're talking about how you didn't have the behavioral data to really draw parallels from humans to cybertronians? Well, there you go!" He said to sweeten the deal.

Croft held a hand up, and spoke.

"We have a new wing under construction... it was supposed to be for research and logistics, but this seems like it could be useful to us as a whole... I'll have them set aside some space, after that I'll need a list of equipment you need... don't make me regret this."

"You won't... thank you for this, I won't let you down!"

That'd been a months ago, since then, construction had come to a head.

It was a pretty big wing, with a massive corridor that separated into intersections with doors to different rooms.

Hardhelm got accustomed to his new space, it was up to the first left, and the last door on the right.

The space for the training room was deceptively large, with enough room to fit all his (albeit, modified to fit cybertronian proportions) equipment, a ring held together by chains, as there wasn't exactly a kind of rope strong enough to support a cybertronian's weight, and several other odds and ends.

In the back left of the room was a station with 3 massive bags filled with plasters and foams to minimize servo-damage, these were held by a hook and chain that hung a few inches from the ceiling and secured to the ground by another hook with a shorter chain to add tension.

In the left were speedbags, small free-moving bags held by a hook and socket. Good for training servo-optic coordination as well as timing and punching rhythm.

A bit away from the speedbags, on the same side, was the ring. It was much larger than the ones humans use for obvious reasons, but was good for setting up sparring sessions and practicing general movement, he could even set up a rope at helm-level to train slips and ducks.

And it included an observation booth at the top of the room itself, with blacked out glass tints to maintain anonymity and secrecy.

In the few years that followed, he'd gotten a small stable of fighters, many of which didn't stick around too long. But the ones that did, hardhelm was able to steer them in the right direction and even got some of them to integrate back with the autobots, allowing them to be released.

And it all began with a femme, the first fighter who stuck around.

Unfortunately, with this new operation came some side-effects.

Someone had snuck a picture of hardhelm training his fighters, sent it to their friends, who sent it to their friends and before anyone knew it, the WBC came knocking.

Yes, the WBC wanted to try and dip their fingers in this still-baking pie. It started with their own little thing, WSC, the Wrought-steel championship.

Needless to say, the sub-organization took off, and they began to host their own events as a spectacle on their own, and with the groundbridge repaired, more and more cybertronians began to come knocking. And of course, the WSC ended up amassing a fairly big roster, with some good talent as well in the still-budding sport.

Eventually, the WBC got in contact with G.H.O.S.T. to try get an even larger roster, with old hardhelm spearheading it all.

It took a bit of financial pressure and moral pressure from hardhelm and a few other select autobots, but by some great miracle of primus, the contract was signed. And now hardhelm could take his fighters to the professional level, not just little sparring marches and competitions.

Hardhelm had guided this femme up the rankings of the seeker-weight division, and even showed interest in getting heavier modifications to try her hand at wrecker-weight, the division above.

Watching her wrap that seeker-weight world championship around her chasis made him swell with a pride he hadn't felt in eons.

But now, it was coming to a head.

"Boss... can I talk to you?" It'd been the later hours of the day, starting to get dark. Hardhelm was confused as to why she wasn't back in her cell.

He shifted to face the femme.

"Sure, what's going on?"

The femme shifted nervously, her now heavier, but equally sleek frame, caused her pedes to clang slightly on the metal floor.

"Well, it... I recently spoke with my corrections agent and my..." She seemed to take a deep breath, and hardhelm felt anticipation build up in his spark.

"I've been... I've been deemed fit to re-enter society... no longer considered a danger." She craned her helm back slightly, as if worried.

He felt the anticipation explode into a flood of joy.

He stood up, maybe too fast as she'd recoiled back slightly.

"That's amazing...! That's incredible!" He exclaimed, stepping towards the femme with his arms spread out.

She accepted the embrace, and felt coolant well up in her optics.

"I couldn't have done it without you... I couldn't have... so thank you.." She breathed out.

After a moment, the two pulled back and she wiped at her eyes.

"Sorry, I just feel like I've been here for ages... started to think I'd never leave... you were the only thing keeping me sane for awhile."

Hardhelm gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Then I've done my job... now if I see you in here again, I'll be pissed!" He half joked, earning a bark of a laugh.

"As if! I'm never coming back here... it's the smell, y'know?" She squinted with a quick nod.

The two laughed it out and spent some time sharing memories. They'd only known each other for maybe the better part of 2 or 3 years , but circumstance had given them an unshakable bond.

And when he'd helped her pack her things, he felt that the training room was a bit emptier... but it's history became richer.

But now, he had an issue to deal with. One that he couldn't afford to ignore, no matter how happy he was. His roster was down another fighter.

He could just wait for another con to show up, but he was sort of in a rush to get someone. He asked for a list of all the inmates brought within the last year or so.

While they ex-con inmates were *allowed* to fight on a professional scale, that didn't mean they were *treated* like professionals. They were mainly brought in as short-notice replacements and almost never made it far due to (at least in comparison to the WBC) their lack of resources. More or less, they were cannon fodder.

A few names caught his eye and he noted them down, later that day asking to see each one...

It wasn't a successful affair.

"Just one...just one Is all I need!"

The joy from a few hours ago lingered but had now taken a backseat.

"Next one it is..." correction, *last* one it is.

He'd already gone down the list in the passing hours and he'd came to the final name on the roster; starscream.

He knew the name. Pretty much anyone who had any sort of involvement in the war knew of megatron's second, and the seekers list of crimes seemed to stretch on and on.

But he had to try...

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

*time skip to after chapter 1*

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

The cell door shut behind him and he took a deep vent. It could've gone better but it also could've gone worse.

There wasn't a guarantee that the slot had been filled, but at least there was a chance, and that was better than what he had before.

He headed back towards the training room, the humans had moved their surveillance and reseaech equipment in the observation room.

It was post-hours so he was left to his own devices, to his routine.

He began cleaning the equipment, he foecused on each piece he was cleaning.

He started with the bags, he wiped them down with wet towels before doing the same with towels doused in sanitizer.

He went around in slowly, a flash went before his optics as he did.

He focused harder on what he was doing, once he finished, he moved on to scrubbing the ring.

He grabbed the squeegee and as he went over, he swore he saw a hint of blue.

Looking back, nothing was there. Just the black of the canvas.

"Fraggin'..." he grumbled.

The next cycle, there was nothing; just the usual goers and some who were just looking for a joor of entertainment.

But the next solar cycle was when hardhelm realized that he'd retained his silver tongue.

"C'mon everyone, keep up!" He shouted at his students as he worked among them.

He'd found out long ago that no one would ever follow him unless he demonstrated that he could preform what was asked, so it became part of his instructional routine; he'd preform what he was asking of his students to show them what was being asked.

This day was endurance, and he never slacked on endurance. In his book, if someone couldn't keep up at all points of a fight then they already lost, so he didn't let anyone else slack.

"C'mon, primus-dammit! You wanna get put out in front of everyone?!" He screamed at the top of his intakes.

He also knew that with rowdy decepticons, sometimes gaining their respect meant scaring them sometimes.

And boy, could hardhelm get loud.

As he watched them train, he heard the door slide open.

"New arrival in the bay!" The humans announced.

A familiar, sleek frame, hunched over slightly in his posture, was being escorted by another 2 autobots.

He left his students, beckoning them to continue.

"Go 'till the bell!" He yelled after them.

He strutted up to the trio, full of confidence and swagger.

"Got you hooked, did I?" He said with a smirk.

The seeker growled.

"Don't give yourself too much credit, there was nothing else to do.' He said matter-of-factly.

Hardhelm simply snickered as the autobots undid his status cuffs and shut the doors.

When the others noticed starscream, it got so quiet that one could hear a mouse whisper.

Even in his own ranks, he hadn't been very popular.

Hardhelm looked behind him, at all his students staring in their direction. The tension was palpable, and hardhelm had to think fast.

"Get gone!" He yelled out, and they all continued what they were doing.

He turned back to starscream, who was much more on edge now.

"We won't be doing anything just yet... you're going to fight, yes?" Starscream looked at him entirely perplexed.

"Wh-why wo- I just got here!" He hissed

"Just...trust me and say yes."

"I... sure?" Starscream relented.

Hardhelm clapped his servos together.

"Perfect, then we're not doing anything yet! You're gonna sit tight and watch for the next..." starscream noticed hardhelms optics drifting up and to the left.

"...23 minutes."

And that's exactly what he did, for the next 23 minutes he was absolutely bored out of his processor, but as he looked at each mech as they trained, a small bit of abhorrent recognition sent a jolt to his processor like static electricity.

He'd done all these mechs wrong in one way or another. His optics had grown quite interested in the floor within these past few joors.

After what felt like a millennia, the final buzzer sounded. The piercing buzz startled starscream.

"Alright, everyone I know you all wanna stay but rules are rules... if it were up to me it'd be different but it's not." Hardhelm reasoned with bis dejected students as they went back to their respective cells.

As they passed by him, even though his gaze had been stuck elsewhere, he still felt their passing glances, their unspoken curses, and their undying rage towards him.

And why would he try to convince them to feel different?

"Ready to begin?" The seeker was snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. Hardhelm seemed a bit exhausted from his previous endeavor, so it looked like starscream would be mostly training on his own with hardhelm throwing in some pointers.

As it would turn out, hardhelm had quite a bit left in his tank.

"Follow me... I'm gonna assume this is your first time doing this so I'll go over the basics."

Starscream scoffed.

"Don't patronize me, autobot. It's fighting, fairly simple, is it not?" Hardhelm looked at starscream like he'd genuinely insulted him personally.

"Oh, alright then... so you know how to manipulate distance, find range, cut angles with your pedework, pick the right shots, time them perfectly EVEN..." hardhelm took a deep vent in as he'd ran out of air.

"...while your opponent is throwing heat, no, BOMBS back at you... you know how to do that all, right?" Hardhelms rant had finally ended and starscream glared at him in silence.

"I'm teaching you this cuz it'll help you get hurt less out there... I'm gonna start simple today, simple pede placement and moving in different directions."

He strolled to stand in front of starscream.

He put his left pede in front and slid his back pede back a bit and pointed it off to the side slightly for extra balance.

"At no point in a fight should your pedes ever break this formation, this is your base. Not only does it dictate how balanced you are and, by extension, how many hits you can take; but it's also where any and all of your punching power will be generated from."

Starscream mimicked it, but something about his left pede forwards and his right pede backwards just didn't feel right.

"No I want you to take a step forwards without breaking that pede formation. Step forwards with the left pede and bring the right one behind you."

Starscream did as asked, but there was a certain unsteadiness in his stance. At first, hardhelm figured it was because he was new to this.

"Now to move to either side, same principle. The pede that's on that respective side always moves first... for backwards, opposite applies but I'll teach you how to cut angles backing up, and why backing up in a straight line is a horrible idea later."

For the next few hours, hardhelm coached starscream through the basics of movement. He noted the small stumbles whenever he'd try to speed things up, but by all accounts, starscream was quite nimble on his pedes.

Soon enough he was able to teach him footwork patterns, how to circle, pivot, and cut angles.

It took a bit for starscream to get used to his new base, but eventually, hardhelm was able to speed things up a bit.

"You've said all these things about punching, and here I am learning how to move... is there a point to this?" Starscream asked.

"In fact, there is... safety first, as they say."

While the slight impatience was something he expected from all of his students, he was a tad surprised someone as vocal as starscream had only just now said something.

But there was one rule hardhelm followed when it came to training others: the first lesson will always be on movement.

Unfortunately, after that, starscream had to go back to his cell.

The same two autobots came and escorted him, as he hadn't done enough to earn enough trust to have any sort of freedom to leave his cell without direct and armed supervision.

He soon felt the familiar sense of emptiness creeping back up and sinking it's talons into him once again at the sight of his cell.

He walked in and waited for the cell to shut before shutting off the lights.

But not to recharge, he simply couldn't.

Doing what he always did, he watched more memories. Some he'd seen before, others he didn't and his spark ached at his own inability to help himself. He constantly felt a pull to watch, in almost a "look what you've done" fashion.

It tore at the outside walls of his spark but dug no deeper. There was no need for any real injury, only pain.

But it got tiring, and boring. The desire to be productive could've either been simple boredom, or the seeker-born phenomena known as "sky-hunger" manifesting itself in an odd way...

Either way, he had to do something, he just didn't know what.

He looked around his space, it wasn't terribly small and had next to nothing inside of it save his berth and a table he could easily move off to the corner.

He sighed and got up, moving his table.

He stood in the middle, praying everyone else was recharging and wouldn't see him.

He started slowly at first, staying light on his pedes just as taught. But he tried something else, as well.

Instead of putting his left pede forwards and his right pede back, he switched it. Right forward, left back.

And it felt like slipping on a glove.

He was much more stable, much more coordinated as well. He could make sharp movements with no difficulty and execute pivots, stutter-steps, and "falling steps" in chains.

For that discovery, he allowed himself to feel a small bit of satisfaction.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Synopsis;

Takes place a bit after season 1, except starscream finds himself in G.H.O.S.T captivity much earlier this time (still deciding how that's gonna go down). At first, he plots to escape but the isolation begins to wear him down, and tea parties with corpses stopped working awhile ago...

so he tries to escape by re-watching old memories... only to realize that all his memories had ever been was a cycle of subservience, pain, and utter humiliation. Not only that, but his own past actions begin to wear on him, and strangely enough; he can't seem to pull himself away from watching for too long.

So he watches them back, over and over again, a marathon of all his blunders, betrayals, and deceits. Over the course of the next few earth months, he goes into a spiral.

Meanwhile, G.H.O.S.T. accidentally blows the lid on everything via a wistleblower, and the existence of cybertronians is exposed but doesn't go over as badly as initially believed, leaving human-cybertronian relations in a decent spot minus the still-active decepticons.

Somewhere along the line, with the help of human scientists the autobots manage to get the space bridge to cybertron working again, not only increasing the roster of fighters I will be working on, but also decreasing the necessity for cybertronians to stay on earth (most are very eager to start rebuilding)

With these factors, the autobots are able to capture many other decepticons (many of which aren't actually in earthspark, but I will be using anyways for diversity) AND get in touch with other autobots around the galaxy.

So the WBC (World Boxing Comission) saw giant robots with giant-robot-hands and had dollar sign eyes, tried partnering with G.H.O.S.T. to organize the CFC (Cybertronian Fighting championship, name is a placeholder for now) as a new way to strengthen relations between the two species while also introducing more crude parts of human culture to the cybertronians, as well as introduce a new type of entertainment. And also cuz that's the only way I was able to make this work lol.

Eventually, G.H.O.S.T decides to allow decepticon inmates to voluntarily enter these championships for small rewards (mainly such as high-grade, better sleeping quarters or even supervised access to public cybertronian events.) And I ended up taking inspiration of this from the legends of the rahway state prison (look that up if you're into boxing)

And while all this is happening, starscream is entirely isolated, alone and now refuses to move on from the past. Mainly inspired by the story of people like Jake lamotta and Matthew saad muhammad, his sense of fear and preservation becomes warped entirely. To the point where taking punches during fights almost feels to him like a way of "giving back".

Enter hardhelm, a wrecker who was an autobot during the "bad old days" of the autobot council (still fleshing him out.)

Having seen the error of his ways a millennia ago, he finds himself on earth and takes a special interest in the CFC due to his knack for hand-to-hand combat.

But, more specifically, interest in the decepticon inmates. He goes in to try and serve as a mentor to any lost ex-decepticons that would follow, in an effort to reform them.

So G.H.O.S.T. appoints him as coach for his own small "stable" of fighters, with starscream being a last-second replacement that was shoehorned in and accepted for the fact that he was going entirely stir-crazy and it was either this or sit back in his cell and watch old memories, and at this point, he needed some other stimulation.

His first training camp doesn't go well. Star and hardhelm just can't seem to see eye to eye, and once he begins to spar, starscream is completely unprepared. He takes a beating, but hardhelm is captivated by his tenacity and believes he can not only train star but help him and himself as well, as even he would admit that he hasn't entirely moved on, and may see a bit of himself in starscream.

This is where the differences will become obvious personality wise, starscream is much more reserved while still maintaining his air of anger and hostility. His usual antics are replaced with blank staring or enraged shouting when confronted, and he never goes out of his way to make conversation, even with bots he knows.

When the time comes to fight, starscream gets his aft kicked hard, it was incredibly one-sided, and there was a definite skill and experience difference. But in the beating he took, he never went down and never thought of quitting. He'd done that enough times, begged and pleaded for less pain only to be given more.

He'd taken his most valuable beating yet and learned a lesson he could never put a price on. Now, he'd struggle to the bitter end, even if it meant only seeing the final buzzer. It was still a victory regardless.

Moreover, he found the pain strangely vindicating, once again, like he was "giving back." In a way, it made him feel at peace with himself, helped him come to terms with everyone hes hurt.

Hardhelm takes an interest in starscream's tenacity. It wasn't every day you came across a mech that could take a hurting like that and keep on moving forward, and not only keep on trudging, but still trying to find a way to get to his opponents and turn the tides.

Obviously, the two have a rocky start. Both are incredibly stubborn, and starscream does his absolute best to keep his distance from absolutely everyone. He's intent to die in the cycle he's in, basically zombie'ing his way through day-to-day life and only truly coming alive when it's time to spar or fight.

Hardhelm uses this to his advantage; he knows how mechs like starscream operate. If you want to help someone who didn't want to be helped, you have to manipulate them into thinking they do (not personally saying this is the correct way to go about this. It's hardhelm's own flawed logic.) So he uses this to his advantage to kindle a love for fighting in starscream, trying to give him a sense of purpose so he could drop the manipulation and really show him that life was more than endless death and conflict.

This starts with him beginning to teach starscream techniques, changing him from a forward-moving zombie into a hard-charging, close-range inside fighter with incredibly tricky head-Movement (meaning he specializes in fighting inside of his opponents reach and is very hard to hit while moving in) ma deceptively long reach. And even though Star tries to keep his distance, it's kinda hard to distance yourself from someone who has to watch and instruct your every move whilst also pointing out flaws. So the two grow close eventually, and hardhelm begins to instill that purpose in star, trying to make "a bonfire outt'a sticks," so to speak.

But despite this, atarscream is still intent on taking punishment during fights. Even with his defensive nuance, he'd still rather get into scrappy brawls, no matter how much hardhelm tried to refocus him on their gameplan, no matter how much he threatened to pull the plug on the fight, starscream would always try to drag the fight into the mud and make it bloody, It allowed him to focus on something other than how much he hated himself.

This comes with a few processor glitches at first, getting worse and worse with each fight.

Regardless, in his down-time he essentially spends it trying to recharge or watching straight up feature-length films of "starscream fucks up; vol 1-6" like they were jackass films. It gets to a point where he can even be found laughing at his own mistakes but to others, he just looks like a lunatic laughing at either the wall or the ceiling.

I intend to use more "human" elements such as fatigue or even having punches target certain components (left hook to the chasis targeting the fuel tank similarly to how it targets the liver for humans, for example) but I'm also gonna use a different system of damage. So instead of someone eyes swelling, a cybertronians' optics will begin to dim, flicker, and glitch due to too much helm trauma. Cuts will still function relatively the same since, as far as I can tell, cybertronians can bleed through their faceplates and intakes.

I'm still working on a rule system but so far it goes as follows.

A preliminary fight (one that's not advertised as much and only really serves as a "stay busy" fight or for 2 up-and-comers to Duke it out and see who moves up the rankings. Getting into that soon) lasts 5 rounds, each round is 5 minutes each with one minutes rest in between.

During this period, each fighter goes to their respective corner to sit on the stool and be seen to by their "corner" who consists of a coach, a cutmech, and a mechanic. They are allowed to offer advice as well as see to a fighters' injuries within a certain jurisdiction.

A contender bout is a fight between one or fighters who are in the top 15 to top 10 rankings. These are 10 rounds, and the times are the same, 5 minute rounds with 1 minute rest in between.

Championship/super-fights are bouts between one or more champion (I intend to have multiple different championships) and these are 15 rounds with the same rules, except referees are far more likely to let fighters "fight it out" rather than stop a fight at the first sign of trouble.

Now would be a good time to speak on referee's and fight judges.

The referee has the ability to stop a fight at any point in time and rule it a TKO should they deem a fighter unable to defend themselves properly whilst still being standing. Think of going down in a KO loss vs getting beat up while all you can do is cover up and take the punches.

The damage system will also be much more visceral with the absence of gloves, this means cuts will be much more prevalent and will regularly impact the scoring and direction of a fight.

Fights will be operating on the conventional "10-point-must" system, where if an opponents were to win a round, they'd have to score a 10 to an opponents 9 or 8. Otherwise the round Is tied (for example, a 9-9 round) and 10-8 rounds are only awarded when a knockdown is scored and the recipient hasn't been knocked down themselves in the same round.

A 10-7 round warrants domination in all fronts only barely shy of a referee or doctor stoppage (stoppage indicates a TKO)

Speaking of doctors, there is a ringside mechanic who is there to oversee any and all injuries the fighters may have. This is the only point where the referees authority is overruled if the mechanic deems a fighter unfit to continue the fight.

As of now, that is all. I will most likely be adding more because I intend of an entire arc where the WBC goes out of business and sells out to the UFC, opening up opportunities for me to turn this into an mma!au

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Your starbee and characterization of them is perfect so I was wondering if Star would purposefully do something to make Bee's wings flutter on their own accord? Mans world be preening at being able to make his partners wings flutter all pretty

he absolutely would :)

first prev next

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Reflecting

ES au starts here, will most likely be abandoning the tfp au.

Tw: mental instability

"Slagging humans!" Starscream grumbled with a kick to his cell door.

It hadn't been long before their hideout had been discovered, and while soundwave, skywarp, and the others managed to escape, starscream wasn't so lucky.

The next memories were ones of hostile optics and stasis cuffs, before finally being thrown back into one of G.H.O.S.T's cells.

Hence where he was, now.

That event had been days ago. He'd attempted to make conversation with the neighboring decepticons, but they weren't too keen on speaking to him.

"Can you shut up, I can't stand your voice!" And that was that.

So now, he needed another way to keep himself occupied.

Another week went by, and he was starting to truly go stir-crazy. He tried everything, from mumbling to himself, making little scrawlings on the wall with his claws, daydreaming, plotting and planning. The things he used to do in the decepticon brig were no longer sufficient.

So he began to watch his own memories back. A perk of having a cpu was that it could capture moments perfectly, all one had to do was dig for them.

About a month after his capture, he finally began to watch them back. He started with small ones, like his first flight through Vos, meeting his trine for the first time, things that made his spark flutter slightly.

But once he got past those, all he had were the bad ones. When those inevitably came, the first thing he felt was anger.

He came across one where him and thundercracker had been pinned down by several autobot fighters, starscream watched himself turn around and flee, using his own trine member as a distraction to cover his own escape.

A small action and one that wasn't even as bad as other things he'd done, but when the optics before him turned to run away, he felt a bitter twinge and anger and regret beneath the rotting surface, it was a type of anger that no amount of screaming or beating upon a solid surface would ever quell.

Different one

The next was a heated argument between him and skywarp, one that got physical.

Not that one...

He skipped it, and the next one that flashed before him was his first ever betrayal of Megatron.

Not his best attempt, by any stretch. Could've been more calculated, more clever, more sneaky. In retrospect he was bound to get caught.

What ensued was even less desirable a memory, although still fresh in his mind and plating as it was back then.

It was a swift and brutal affair. He'd been lucky not to have been deactivated right then and there. Had it not been for his groveling, he very well may have.

"I beg of you, mighty Megatron! Please have mercy!" He heard himself plead. The abject terror and desperation in his voice pierced the air, so loud and poignant, had disgusted him and made him sneer in internal disgust.

That's what that second feeling was, disgust.

He really said those words... those words left his vocalizer and were picked up not just by Megatron but several other mechs in the room, processed, and understood in perfect clarity... all readily available by each one to be watched in crystal-clarity just as he'd done so now...

He moved on before he purged his tanks.

He flipped through, most of the time all he really needed was a second or so before he remembered the events and what preceeded before it even played out fully, so he was able to flip through consistently... if he could just go back far enough...

Ah, this one wasn't so bad.

He remembered this one well, him and his trine had been given leave for a dangerous but successful mission... before they got separated from thundercracker....

Thundercracker...

Any joy he took in the memory had vaporized alongside his dignity as he remembered his lost trinemate...

Starscreams' spark ached at the distance, and he figured that even if they managed to reconnect, after everything they'd been through, there would always be a distance starscream would never be able to close.

And as time would go on, starscream would even find himself unwilling to close that distance.

He angrily tried to shoot the thoughts down, instead opting to focus on the scene at hand...

It was beautiful, the air had been crisp and cool. With the taste of victory in their intakes, the sensation had been even more euphoric. And that was all he needed to see for now, just him, his trinemates and the endless, fleeting sky.

He closed the memory quickly. For...reasons.

Switching to another one, he had to fight the urge to immediately switch back to the aforementioned memory.

This one wasn't even worth remembering, a drop in the proverbial ocean where neither comedic nor particularly cruel were the outcomes, and yet in his desperation for any sort of escape from his circumstances, he immersed himself once again.

Another plot, another failure, another beating, another humiliation.

"I-im so-sorry... lord-d megatr-tron!" He heard himself choke out, he grit his own dentae.

The sound of plating scraping against the floor felt like shrapnel in his audials, and each *crack* and *bang* had brought with them not only unease but an underlying sense that the unease was something a bit more...

He shut it off and rolled over in his birth, falling over but too dejected to pick himself back up. So he just stared at the darkness under his berth.

He did turn off the memory projector, right?

Why are you so insistent on doing this alone?!

He growled, he was positive he'd turned his projector off, but his processor was insistent that the show must go on.

I've already explained this to you! How many times must we have this conversation?!

Until you can finally understand that your pride and ego aren't worth your life and spark! We're trinemates, let me help you!

I don't want your help!

His final declaration rang through his helm, a Hollow reminder of words that, while not potent immediately, had changed skywarp's outlook on her trinemate forever. Words he could never take back...

Words I'll never take back...

So he wouldn't. He's taken enough back, had too many second-chances, and had too many ways out.

And with that semblance of peace made, he felt energy return suddenly. He shot up from where he lay.

Frag it, another one!

He turned his projector back on and watched, this time closely. He skipped past all his wrongdoings and instead went straight towards the consequences, as though to say "see what happens?"

He held, pried, forced his optics to take in each and every detail. Every last inch of damage on his frame and the despicable expressions he made... it drove the disgust he felt even deeper, but now had begun to replace the unease with a sort of... anxiety?

No, that couldn't be... for anxiety, there had to be fear, and right now, he had nothing to fear. Was it anticipation?

Whatever it was, it almost made him feel like his joints were new. Like his digits were freshly oiled, moving seamlessly without so much as a creak nor jolt. He grew to want this feeling, and as more time passed, he fell into his routine even harder.

Each blow rained down after the next, first it was Megatron swinging, then prime, then Shockwave, then arcee, then it was mechs who's destinations he could never remember. And with it, brought a sort of catharsis to him.

Weeks passed by of that exact same routine, he even stopped trying to chat up the cell attendant that brought him his energon, didn't even get up to grab it, he just let the mech leave it on the floor in his cell. It was the only time he ever left his berth other than when he fell off of it while tossing and turning.

But that catharsis had gotten more intense, now watching himself get hurt replaced the sharp buzzing in his helm to a dull humming instead, and made his chasis feel warm and bubbly; Like it was full of feathers or had been packed with fluff and cotton.

More weeks of the same routine, and he wanted to feel something a bit more... visceral, make sure he was in the right place at the right time... to let him know that he's still around.

It was simple, held one arm out, clenched his other servo whilst raising it, and brought it down sharply on his arm.

It was weak, dull, and exactly what he needed at this moment... a physical stimulant to balance out his mental stimulation.

And that's as far as it would go...

Even more time passed, had it not been for his systems keeping track of each solar cycle he'd have lost count of how long he'd been here, it'd been about 6-to-8 human months since he got in... that was right, right?

Time had begun to lose meaning regardless. He'd been laying in his berth, watching more memories while staring at the ceiling when the sound of his cell door opening startled him out of thought.

This was a different mech, larger and adorned with autobot colors.

"Imate Alpha-227... designation; starscream." This mechs voice had a rough edge to it.

"Supposedly." He answered, still looking up.

"We've got... actually lemme change that, I've got an offer for you." Starscream scoffed as soon as he heard the word "offer"

"Even if i told you where we hid out, you lot already ransacked the place, and now even I don't know where they are... why don't you take your autobot friends and go look for them yourself, since you're all so fragging smart." He sneered.

The mech raised an optic ridge in bemusment.

"Check the attitude, that's not what I'm here for... in fact I'm hard-pressed to say I'm even with g.h.o.s.t."

Starscream looked over the mechs frame again, almost exaggerating his method of observation.

The mech sighed, knowing exactly what starscrean was trying to convey.

"...only by association, you ready to hear me out?"

Starscream eyed the mech suspiciously, but other than his little outburst a few seconds ago, he'd now stopped staring at the ceiling, so that was progress.

The seeker inclined his helm, signaling the mech to continue.

"I will say... I am partnered with g.h.o.s.t. but it's more of a scenario of them letting me run my own program... we even got a new wing of the prison... I wanna help you guys."

Now it was starscream's turn to raise a bemused optic ridge.

"You want... to help us...?" He squinted at the mech, almost as if trying to physically make out the words with his own optics.

"That's what I said."

Starscrean stared at him a second longer, a look of perplexing on his faceplate.

"...like, HELP help?" He asked again and the mech groaned in annoyance.

"Yes, I want to help help you guys... I want you AID you, ASSIST you, even! Does that not make what I said clear?!"

Starscream stared for another moment, before a grin curled across his intake, followed by a slow crescendo of giggling, turned to laughter, turned to full-on howling.

The seeker laughed while rubbing his optics, before pausing for a moment, using the silence to look back at the mech once more, before continuing.

The mech stared in irritation as starscream sobered himself, before letting out a dejected sigh.

"Alright, well... seems I wasted my time." He turned to leave, but heard a sigh back in response.

"Wait... let's hear it." The mech stopped and with his back turned, a small smile formed on his face.

He turned to face the seeker and leaned up against the wall.

"You haven't been leaving your cell... you're aware there's hours in the day where your cell is unlocked, right?" Starscream scoffed in response.

"And do what, exactly? This is prison, and I must say, it's among one of the worst I've ever been to... there's nothing for me beyond that door."

The mech pulled themselves off the wall and sauntered over to starscream, bending down to eye-level.

"And I'm here to tell you... you may be wrong."

That had caught starscream's interest.

"What are you selling?" He said more suspiciously.

"Want me to give you the rundown?" Starscream waved a servo in listening.

"I run a program that I set up with the humans, it's in the newly constructed eastern wing. Normally, it'd just be for free mechs since we managed to secure groundbridge access to cybertron-"

"You did WHAT?!" starscream nearly shot up into the ceiling.

The mech simply stared at him.

"This... happened awhile ago. Do you really never leave your cell?"

Starscream didn't answer and the mech gave him a look with an emotion he couldn't name... all he knew was he hated it.

"No, I don't leave my cell! Do you need you processor checked?" He snapped.

"No... but I think you're due for a aft-whooping or two... I run a stable of fighters under the steel gauntlet championship, or SGC. We're partnered with an organization the humans have called the WBC, the world boxing commission."

Steel gauntlet... boxing... humans?! What in the pit is this mech blabbering about?!

"Boxing is something the humans call a "sport." A physical activity that always involved some sort of competition... they've got sports about sinking a ball onto a hoop from far away, hitting a ball really far with a big stick, kick a ball into a net -"

Starscream cut off his tangent.

"Are there any human-sports that don't involve balls?"

The mech chuckled and mumbled something under their breath.

"What?" Starscream asked.

"Nothing... forget it." They sobered up before continuing.

"Yes, there are sports that don't involves balls. And boxing happens to be one of them." He finished with a smile.

"And that issss.....?" He motioned for the mech to complete the sentence.

"A sport about punching eachother." He said simply.

Starscreams helm recoiled and he stared incredulously.

"...a...a sport about what?!"

"Yup... humans can be some nasty, violent little buggers."

"But that's... barbaric!"

"It's also entirely voluntary... there's even an incentive for 'con prisoners."

"...go on..."

"I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I've seen inmates get things like high-grade, filtered energon, even seen one get escorted to an entirely new sleeping quarters... I keep in close contact with the autobots, and they're looking to implement a rewards system soon, as well."

"And why do you want me to do this... boxing? And why should i?"

The mech smiled.

"Truth is, there's really no reason why you should. It hurts, it's painful. You're getting hit and beat up while people are watching, at its worst you're getting seriously hurt infront of the mechs you love."

The mech stopped for a moment and continued.

"But at its best, the feeling of accomplishment, preserverance, and having overcome obstacles is the siren-song that lures mechs in to become fighters... there's no reason to, but I think every mech should try it at some point."

Starscream's optics wandered slightly while he processed the words, the mech continued.

"As for why? Well... one of my fighters recently got out, and has since left the solar system... left a note for me saying she needed to go find herself and come to terms with everything that's happened... I don't blame her."

Starscream had to bite back a sneer. Find herself? If only it was that easy.

"But that's left a gap in my roster, fight week is in 2 human-weeks so you'll have a decent bit of time to train if you're up for it."

Starscream took a moment to think on it, somewhere deep within himself, he knew he was tired of the violence... but he also knew it was a part of him now, and that no matter what, he'd never escape it.

"And what's the purpose of it?" Starscream asked, if he was gonna even contemplate putting himself in harms way, he wanted to know the purpose.

The mech simply shrugged.

"Entertainment... like I said, the humans can be some savages when they wanna be... that's the objective purpose, anyways."

"You mean, there's another purpose?"

The mech smiled

"It's subjective, but yes. I've had the chance to meet quite a few decepticons Here and I've seen them take to the fight business for a whole lot of different reasons."

This intrigued starscream slightly.

"Such as...?"

The mech took a moment to think, before answering.

"To find a calling outside of the war, to enamor and inspire the crowd, even something as simple as using it as an outlet for their own aggression... and these are just ones off the top of my helm." He finished, tapping on the side of his helm.

Starscream seemed deep in thought, the prolonged silence had now become uncomfortable.

"So...whadya say?"

Starscream sighed in indecision.

"I will make no guarantees... but I will think on it." The seeker answered begrudgingly.

The mech wore that accomplished smile those close to him knew.

"I got a feeling you won't regret this... I suspect I'll see you soon."

Starscream growled.

"You speak like I've already made up my mind... are your audials glitched?"

"I put the idea in your helm... and I can tell those gears are turning. I got a feeling you'll end up finding your own purpose for fighting soon enough, and it'll lead you right to me." The confidence in the mechs tone had irritated starscream

What irritated him worse was the fact that he actually kinda WAS considering it.

"Just get out of here." He growled once again.

The mech threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"I can take a hint... see you soon." And he left with that same smile.

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

What's up everyone, sorry for the inactivity I seemed to have left motivation at the door /hj

I definitely hit the "he would not fucking say/do that" switch a shit-load but I do intend to go somewhere with this characterization and also try to keep some of star's more defining character traits that I will have an opportunity to explore in the future.

I have a synopsis in the drafts that I plan on polishing up to add some more context to this but I really wanted to at least get this prologue out. The terrans and quintessons will also be playing a role in this story, but for right now I intend to give starscream a journey through the fight world before being released.

To get some things out of the way, this takes place shortly after season 1 but starscream gets captured alot sooner and the existence of cybertromians gets blown wide open by a whistleblower but it doesn't go over super bad with the normal population.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Reflecting

ES au starts here, will most likely be abandoning the tfp au.

Tw: mental instability

"Slagging humans!" Starscream grumbled with a kick to his cell door.

It hadn't been long before their hideout had been discovered, and while soundwave, skywarp, and the others managed to escape, starscream wasn't so lucky.

The next memories were ones of hostile optics and stasis cuffs, before finally being thrown back into one of G.H.O.S.T's cells.

Hence where he was, now.

That event had been days ago. He'd attempted to make conversation with the neighboring decepticons, but they weren't too keen on speaking to him.

"Can you shut up, I can't stand your voice!" And that was that.

So now, he needed another way to keep himself occupied.

Another week went by, and he was starting to truly go stir-crazy. He tried everything, from mumbling to himself, making little scrawlings on the wall with his claws, daydreaming, plotting and planning. The things he used to do in the decepticon brig were no longer sufficient.

So he began to watch his own memories back. A perk of having a cpu was that it could capture moments perfectly, all one had to do was dig for them.

About a month after his capture, he finally began to watch them back. He started with small ones, like his first flight through Vos, meeting his trine for the first time, things that made his spark flutter slightly.

But once he got past those, all he had were the bad ones. When those inevitably came, the first thing he felt was anger.

He came across one where him and thundercracker had been pinned down by several autobot fighters, starscream watched himself turn around and flee, using his own trine member as a distraction to cover his own escape.

A small action and one that wasn't even as bad as other things he'd done, but when the optics before him turned to run away, he felt a bitter twinge and anger and regret beneath the rotting surface, it was a type of anger that no amount of screaming or beating upon a solid surface would ever quell.

Different one

The next was a heated argument between him and skywarp, one that got physical.

Not that one...

He skipped it, and the next one that flashed before him was his first ever betrayal of Megatron.

Not his best attempt, by any stretch. Could've been more calculated, more clever, more sneaky. In retrospect he was bound to get caught.

What ensued was even less desirable a memory, although still fresh in his mind and plating as it was back then.

It was a swift and brutal affair. He'd been lucky not to have been deactivated right then and there. Had it not been for his groveling, he very well may have.

"I beg of you, mighty Megatron! Please have mercy!" He heard himself plead. The abject terror and desperation in his voice pierced the air, so loud and poignant, had disgusted him and made him sneer in internal disgust.

That's what that second feeling was, disgust.

He really said those words... those words left his vocalizer and were picked up not just by Megatron but several other mechs in the room, processed, and understood in perfect clarity... all readily available by each one to be watched in crystal-clarity just as he'd done so now...

He moved on before he purged his tanks.

He flipped through, most of the time all he really needed was a second or so before he remembered the events and what preceeded before it even played out fully, so he was able to flip through consistently... if he could just go back far enough...

Ah, this one wasn't so bad.

He remembered this one well, him and his trine had been given leave for a dangerous but successful mission... before they got separated from thundercracker....

Thundercracker...

Any joy he took in the memory had vaporized alongside his dignity as he remembered his lost trinemate...

Starscreams' spark ached at the distance, and he figured that even if they managed to reconnect, after everything they'd been through, there would always be a distance starscream would never be able to close.

And as time would go on, starscream would even find himself unwilling to close that distance.

He angrily tried to shoot the thoughts down, instead opting to focus on the scene at hand...

It was beautiful, the air had been crisp and cool. With the taste of victory in their intakes, the sensation had been even more euphoric. And that was all he needed to see for now, just him, his trinemates and the endless, fleeting sky.

He closed the memory quickly. For...reasons.

Switching to another one, he had to fight the urge to immediately switch back to the aforementioned memory.

This one wasn't even worth remembering, a drop in the proverbial ocean where neither comedic nor particularly cruel were the outcomes, and yet in his desperation for any sort of escape from his circumstances, he immersed himself once again.

Another plot, another failure, another beating, another humiliation.

"I-im so-sorry... lord-d megatr-tron!" He heard himself choke out, he grit his own dentae.

The sound of plating scraping against the floor felt like shrapnel in his audials, and each *crack* and *bang* had brought with them not only unease but an underlying sense that the unease was something a bit more...

He shut it off and rolled over in his birth, falling over but too dejected to pick himself back up. So he just stared at the darkness under his berth.

He did turn off the memory projector, right?

Why are you so insistent on doing this alone?!

He growled, he was positive he'd turned his projector off, but his processor was insistent that the show must go on.

I've already explained this to you! How many times must we have this conversation?!

Until you can finally understand that your pride and ego aren't worth your life and spark! We're trinemates, let me help you!

I don't want your help!

His final declaration rang through his helm, a Hollow reminder of words that, while not potent immediately, had changed skywarp's outlook on her trinemate forever. Words he could never take back...

Words I'll never take back...

So he wouldn't. He's taken enough back, had too many second-chances, and had too many ways out.

And with that semblance of peace made, he felt energy return suddenly. He shot up from where he lay.

Frag it, another one!

He turned his projector back on and watched, this time closely. He skipped past all his wrongdoings and instead went straight towards the consequences, as though to say "see what happens?"

He held, pried, forced his optics to take in each and every detail. Every last inch of damage on his frame and the despicable expressions he made... it drove the disgust he felt even deeper, but now had begun to replace the unease with a sort of... anxiety?

No, that couldn't be... for anxiety, there had to be fear, and right now, he had nothing to fear. Was it anticipation?

Whatever it was, it almost made him feel like his joints were new. Like his digits were freshly oiled, moving seamlessly without so much as a creak nor jolt. He grew to want this feeling, and as more time passed, he fell into his routine even harder.

Each blow rained down after the next, first it was Megatron swinging, then prime, then Shockwave, then arcee, then it was mechs who's destinations he could never remember. And with it, brought a sort of catharsis to him.

Weeks passed by of that exact same routine, he even stopped trying to chat up the cell attendant that brought him his energon, didn't even get up to grab it, he just let the mech leave it on the floor in his cell. It was the only time he ever left his berth other than when he fell off of it while tossing and turning.

But that catharsis had gotten more intense, now watching himself get hurt replaced the sharp buzzing in his helm to a dull humming instead, and made his chasis feel warm and bubbly; Like it was full of feathers or had been packed with fluff and cotton.

More weeks of the same routine, and he wanted to feel something a bit more... visceral, make sure he was in the right place at the right time... to let him know that he's still around.

It was simple, held one arm out, clenched his other servo whilst raising it, and brought it down sharply on his arm.

It was weak, dull, and exactly what he needed at this moment... a physical stimulant to balance out his mental stimulation.

And that's as far as it would go...

Even more time passed, had it not been for his systems keeping track of each solar cycle he'd have lost count of how long he'd been here, it'd been about 6-to-8 human months since he got in... that was right, right?

Time had begun to lose meaning regardless. He'd been laying in his berth, watching more memories while staring at the ceiling when the sound of his cell door opening startled him out of thought.

This was a different mech, larger and adorned with autobot colors.

"Imate Alpha-227... designation; starscream." This mechs voice had a rough edge to it.

"Supposedly." He answered, still looking up.

"We've got... actually lemme change that, I've got an offer for you." Starscream scoffed as soon as he heard the word "offer"

"Even if i told you where we hid out, you lot already ransacked the place, and now even I don't know where they are... why don't you take your autobot friends and go look for them yourself, since you're all so fragging smart." He sneered.

The mech raised an optic ridge in bemusment.

"Check the attitude, that's not what I'm here for... in fact I'm hard-pressed to say I'm even with g.h.o.s.t."

Starscream looked over the mechs frame again, almost exaggerating his method of observation.

The mech sighed, knowing exactly what starscrean was trying to convey.

"...only by association, you ready to hear me out?"

Starscream eyed the mech suspiciously, but other than his little outburst a few seconds ago, he'd now stopped staring at the ceiling, so that was progress.

The seeker inclined his helm, signaling the mech to continue.

"I will say... I am partnered with g.h.o.s.t. but it's more of a scenario of them letting me run my own program... we even got a new wing of the prison... I wanna help you guys."

Now it was starscream's turn to raise a bemused optic ridge.

"You want... to help us...?" He squinted at the mech, almost as if trying to physically make out the words with his own optics.

"That's what I said."

Starscrean stared at him a second longer, a look of perplexing on his faceplate.

"...like, HELP help?" He asked again and the mech groaned in annoyance.

"Yes, I want to help help you guys... I want you AID you, ASSIST you, even! Does that not make what I said clear?!"

Starscream stared for another moment, before a grin curled across his intake, followed by a slow crescendo of giggling, turned to laughter, turned to full-on howling.

The seeker laughed while rubbing his optics, before pausing for a moment, using the silence to look back at the mech once more, before continuing.

The mech stared in irritation as starscream sobered himself, before letting out a dejected sigh.

"Alright, well... seems I wasted my time." He turned to leave, but heard a sigh back in response.

"Wait... let's hear it." The mech stopped and with his back turned, a small smile formed on his face.

He turned to face the seeker and leaned up against the wall.

"You haven't been leaving your cell... you're aware there's hours in the day where your cell is unlocked, right?" Starscream scoffed in response.

"And do what, exactly? This is prison, and I must say, it's among one of the worst I've ever been to... there's nothing for me beyond that door."

The mech pulled themselves off the wall and sauntered over to starscream, bending down to eye-level.

"And I'm here to tell you... you may be wrong."

That had caught starscream's interest.

"What are you selling?" He said more suspiciously.

"Want me to give you the rundown?" Starscream waved a servo in listening.

"I run a program that I set up with the humans, it's in the newly constructed eastern wing. Normally, it'd just be for free mechs since we managed to secure groundbridge access to cybertron-"

"You did WHAT?!" starscream nearly shot up into the ceiling.

The mech simply stared at him.

"This... happened awhile ago. Do you really never leave your cell?"

Starscream didn't answer and the mech gave him a look with an emotion he couldn't name... all he knew was he hated it.

"No, I don't leave my cell! Do you need you processor checked?" He snapped.

"No... but I think you're due for a aft-whooping or two... I run a stable of fighters under the steel gauntlet championship, or SGC. We're partnered with an organization the humans have called the WBC, the world boxing commission."

Steel gauntlet... boxing... humans?! What in the pit is this mech blabbering about?!

"Boxing is something the humans call a "sport." A physical activity that always involved some sort of competition... they've got sports about sinking a ball onto a hoop from far away, hitting a ball really far with a big stick, kick a ball into a net -"

Starscream cut off his tangent.

"Are there any human-sports that don't involve balls?"

The mech chuckled and mumbled something under their breath.

"What?" Starscream asked.

"Nothing... forget it." They sobered up before continuing.

"Yes, there are sports that don't involves balls. And boxing happens to be one of them." He finished with a smile.

"And that issss.....?" He motioned for the mech to complete the sentence.

"A sport about punching eachother." He said simply.

Starscreams helm recoiled and he stared incredulously.

"...a...a sport about what?!"

"Yup... humans can be some nasty, violent little buggers."

"But that's... barbaric!"

"It's also entirely voluntary... there's even an incentive for 'con prisoners."

"...go on..."

"I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I've seen inmates get things like high-grade, filtered energon, even seen one get escorted to an entirely new sleeping quarters... I keep in close contact with the autobots, and they're looking to implement a rewards system soon, as well."

"And why do you want me to do this... boxing? And why should i?"

The mech smiled.

"Truth is, there's really no reason why you should. It hurts, it's painful. You're getting hit and beat up while people are watching, at its worst you're getting seriously hurt infront of the mechs you love."

The mech stopped for a moment and continued.

"But at its best, the feeling of accomplishment, preserverance, and having overcome obstacles is the siren-song that lures mechs in to become fighters... there's no reason to, but I think every mech should try it at some point."

Starscream's optics wandered slightly while he processed the words, the mech continued.

"As for why? Well... one of my fighters recently got out, and has since left the solar system... left a note for me saying she needed to go find herself and come to terms with everything that's happened... I don't blame her."

Starscream had to bite back a sneer. Find herself? If only it was that easy.

"But that's left a gap in my roster, fight week is in 2 human-weeks so you'll have a decent bit of time to train if you're up for it."

Starscream took a moment to think on it, somewhere deep within himself, he knew he was tired of the violence... but he also knew it was a part of him now, and that no matter what, he'd never escape it.

"And what's the purpose of it?" Starscream asked, if he was gonna even contemplate putting himself in harms way, he wanted to know the purpose.

The mech simply shrugged.

"Entertainment... like I said, the humans can be some savages when they wanna be... that's the objective purpose, anyways."

"You mean, there's another purpose?"

The mech smiled

"It's subjective, but yes. I've had the chance to meet quite a few decepticons Here and I've seen them take to the fight business for a whole lot of different reasons."

This intrigued starscream slightly.

"Such as...?"

The mech took a moment to think, before answering.

"To find a calling outside of the war, to enamor and inspire the crowd, even something as simple as using it as an outlet for their own aggression... and these are just ones off the top of my helm." He finished, tapping on the side of his helm.

Starscream seemed deep in thought, the prolonged silence had now become uncomfortable.

"So...whadya say?"

Starscream sighed in indecision.

"I will make no guarantees... but I will think on it." The seeker answered begrudgingly.

The mech wore that accomplished smile those close to him knew.

"I got a feeling you won't regret this... I suspect I'll see you soon."

Starscream growled.

"You speak like I've already made up my mind... are your audials glitched?"

"I put the idea in your helm... and I can tell those gears are turning. I got a feeling you'll end up finding your own purpose for fighting soon enough, and it'll lead you right to me." The confidence in the mechs tone had irritated starscream

What irritated him worse was the fact that he actually kinda WAS considering it.

"Just get out of here." He growled once again.

The mech threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"I can take a hint... see you soon." And he left with that same smile.

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

What's up everyone, sorry for the inactivity I seemed to have left motivation at the door /hj

I definitely hit the "he would not fucking say/do that" switch a shit-load but I do intend to go somewhere with this characterization and also try to keep some of star's more defining character traits that I will have an opportunity to explore in the future.

I have a synopsis in the drafts that I plan on polishing up to add some more context to this but I really wanted to at least get this prologue out. The terrans and quintessons will also be playing a role in this story, but for right now I intend to give starscream a journey through the fight world before being released.

To get some things out of the way, this takes place shortly after season 1 but starscream gets captured alot sooner and the existence of cybertromians gets blown wide open by a whistleblower but it doesn't go over super bad with the normal population.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

It is now in motion

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Why must Hasbro always do my boy dirty...

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

I know I said I wouldn't be touching earthspark because of all the drama surrounding it, but I can't stop myself from coming up with ideas. There's so much more to work with imo with alot higher stakes, I may move this little au over to earthspark, I'm still not sure.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Apologies everyone, putting this on hold for now as I'm invested in other projects currently.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Chapter 10: leverage

Quickly, before we get into this chapter I just wanted to say that I'm borrowing elements from different continuities, I'm still very much a casual fan but I have plenty of ideas for this au.

Sadly, even in recharge, he could not escape his failures. The first thing he felt was heat. He didn't bother onlining his optics at first, he was terrified of what awaited. The sound of crumbling buildings and distant fighting did no favors to the pit that welled in his spark.

Suddenly, he was choked up and began to hack and cough, forcing himself upright and his optics online.

He looked up to a veil of smoke, obscuring everything around him and choking up his intake even more. He began to wave the smoke away and he truly, truly wished he didn't.

Falling to his knees, he watched with unimaginable agony as the once proud Vos had been reduced to smoldering rubble. The buildings that seemed to reach into cybertrons' atmosphere had been reduced to brutalist husks, their lights now flickering lifelessly, or not at all. And that was all before the bodies.

His glossa quivered, no... no!

They littered what used to be the streets of what was vos's most prestigious square, now that the dust settled, nothing moved that had no reason to.

"This just couldn't be... Surely there had to be at least a few survivors, right? A couple? Even just one?"

He ran from husk to husk frantically, nearly sputtering.

"C'mon, get up... primus, no! Stay with me, show me your optics, please!" He begged as he searched for any signs of life.

He opened his comm link, broadcasting to as many channels as he could without being detected.

"Attention any and all surviving seekers in Vos, this is wingleader starscream... any survivors come in!" He ordered, holding his breath. The static in response drained his hopes a bit more, his first blunder was getting them up in the first place.

"Any and all survivors-" he repeated

"-PLEASE come in!" He shouted in desperation.

Primus, what was he doing?! He had seekers in front of him that needed medical assistance!

He switched his comm to his old commands channel.

"Air command, I have several downed and injured seekers, primus only knows how many dead... I need you to send medical assistance as soon as you can!" He huffed out.

"What?!" He heard a reply through the comm but there was so much interference that it obscured any recognition of who was speaking.

Still, he needed to try and get through.

"Are you fragging dumb?! I said-"

"Hello?! Is anyone there?! I need immediate assistance! They're on all sides and I'm running out of cove-" the voice cut off to more static, and starscreams' nerves grew evermore anxious.

He breath caught in his intake, he looked down at the seeker below him. Streaks of neon purple and pink were now smeared down the sides of the femmes' frame, one wing was outright missing while the other was crushed.

He put a servo over an open wound in her chasis, most likely from anti-air fire. He also did his best to push her right arm back into place.

He comm'd for help again, energon still leaked through the femmes several wounds, so that was the only sign of life he needed.

"Anyone medically qualified, I need assistance! Coordinates are-"

"Shhhhhhhh." He heard from below him.

"Too late now~" A chill went through his frame, and despite the fires around him, his cables ran cold.

He looked down at the femme, who now looked right at him despite her optics being offline.

"Too late now~" she repeated with a smile

He backed off slowly, now he was truly shaken.

"W-what?" He breathed.

"Can't help me now... can't help you now" her limbs began to twitch, and he scrambled back.

"Won't you stay with me? After all, you never were supposed to leave~" the femme cooed, still lying where she fell.

Another shiver traveled through his frame, rattling every screw and bolt, without a second thought, he turned around and ran. Taking flight soon after.

He circled the massive skylines of Vos, looking for any signs of survivors, even going as far as turning on his locator. Which both gave away his location to any decent computer expert but also left him vulnerable to being ambushed.

He scanned the grounds, trying his best to see through the dust and smoke. He tried to look for any small movement or any signal. There was so much ground, and there were so many seekers here that there just HAD to be some survivors, there HAD to!

His hope began to falter, and he kicked himself for allowing the upstart in the first place... until he finally heard a faint ping.

"Finally! Survivo-"

He stopped the thought short and quickly sobered himself with the possibility of a trap. He wasn't going to allow himself to get his hopes up just to once again have them crushed.

He flew lower, trying to pick up where the signal was coming from. He slowed his pace, dodging left and right from the wrecks that stuck out like jagged knives.

He found himself in a residential area, housing complexes once home to entire functions, now reduced to Rusted out derelicts. Not a single mech in sight.

But he swore he saw an SOS signal here. the locator didn't lie!

He trudged through the wreckage, trying to shove his prior experience aside, as difficult as that was.

"Hello?!" He called out

"Is anyone still out there? There was an SOS signal in this area!" He shouted, looking around.

"My designation is starscream, and im with the 3rd arial assault division, callsign: whitewing! If anyone is injured, regroup with me immediately!" He ran towards the fallen structures, seeing if he could get a glimpse of anything in the rubble. But he was met with more casualties, all cold and grey.

As he peered to each individual wreckage his minds eye brought to life visions of what had been before the war. Small flashes of light and life. He saw the femme from earlier, now polished and full of life and she was with someone... not a trine member, but something more...

they all had lives before the war, hopes and dreams for the future all ground away in the endless tumble of the war effort.

Now, those visions faded and they gave way to the desolate wasteland before him. forget the fire, now it looked like it hadn't been inhabited in vorns.

His hope drained even more, and now he was truly desperate. His optics dart from left to right, rapidly trying to scan for anything but to no avail.

"I said, if anyone is out there, regroup with me immediately!" He shrieked, to no response. And it was all the same.

More rummaging through wreckages, more dead seekers. More rummaging through wreckages, more dead seekers... nothing would change.

He collapsed to his knees once again, it was all for nothing.

All.... for nothing....

"Autobots..." he jumped at a gritty voice from behind him. Turning around to face the voice, starscream's faceplate held a look of utter distress.

Many things had changed over the vorns which starscream had co-led the decepticons, one thing that never seemed to change was megatrons appearance.

Almost as if to immortalize his own image, the 'con leader had kept nearly the exact same appearance since they'd met on that fateful day. Of course, there were small changes, some scratches that couldn't simply be buffed out, but other than those, he kept the same armor with the same colors.

"W-what... what do you..." he began to say, but his processor couldn't seem to put words together. Whether it was due to grief of his prior experience or shock for the fact there was another living spark amongst the destruction.

The larger mech turned to him with a solemn look in his optics.

"They'll do anything to remain in power... damned autobot council, does their ruthlessness know any bounds?" He hissed, not knowing, or maybe he did, of the effect his words had on the seeker.

His optics widened, the autobots did this? The autobots of lacon?

In hindsight, he shouldn't have been surprised. No one else was capable of this kind of destruction, and they'd already been at war for as long as he could remember now.

Still, he'd half hoped it was an attack by an unknown assailant... it would mean the war with the autobots hadn't quite escalated to that big of a scale.

How delusional he was.

"But why?!" He shouted before he could think twice.

"Why would they attack?! They told us we would all keep the war off of non-military territory!" He cried, remembering the long and grueling peace talks that seemed to last forever until they were over.

And that didn't even cover half of it. Even during their uneasy "peace," did they seek to make sure seekers were kept ss low in the heriarchy as possible.

He'd been lucky to get into Lacon's technical institute, where the best scientists and researchers, innovators even, came from. He half believed the only reason he got in was because of his status, though it no doubt rubbed the autobot council the wrong way to have a seeker of high intelligence.

It didn't make their peacetime conferences any more debilitating.

He remembered the countless demands and conditions, and still him and his people were treated unfairly. His servos clenched at the thought.

"Peace isn't enough for them... the council will only ever settle for absolute domination...as you've just seen." The mech growled.

He felt fire in his spark, he looked from this massive mech, back to the firey scene before him, then back to him.

"No... no! Someone must pay!" He shouted up at Mech with balled servos.

"Indeed, they must... and under my orders, they shall. But what I need is soldiers. Loyal mechs who will follow me in my conquest to bring down the council for everything they've done!"

The fire in starscream burned even brighter.

"Damn those autobots... after everything they asked of us, all of those negotiations and this is how they repay us?! Is there even anyone left?!"

His tank twisted in agony as the mere thought of being the last, that simply couldn't be true, though. There were seekers scattered far from Vos even before the fall.

"What's your designation?" He asked without thinking any further. The larger mech stood tall among the flames, his cool silver armor contrasting the fire and embers around him.

"I am Megatron, leader of the decepticons. And tell me, little seeker, what Is yours?"

Starscream remembered where he got his designation from, before being named wingleader, he'd been ordered to serve in the vosian military in his youth... he'd quickly switch to their research and development division and, after serving his term, would become wingleader and try for the LTI. But while he'd been in flight academy, he quickly excelled as an Arial assault unit for his reaction times and flight reflexes.

During his flight exam, one of his instructors, who'd always been known to yell and scream at cadets, dropped his act and told him.

The very stars will scream as you pass them!

He took a breath

"My designation... is starscream."

"Very Well, starscream, I've only one question for you..."

The one question that would follow starscream for the rest of his primus-forsaken life.

"...will you follow me?"

He peered back at the ruins behind him, and his faceplates once again twisted in an ugly mixture of rage and anguish. After that, it didn't take much more thought to make his decision...

He really, really should've thought it through.

"Yes, lord Megatron!"

A smile curled the warlords' glossa in satisfaction. With a new ally for his cause, he sought to do what he did best.

"Very Well, starscream.... together, we will right the wrongs of the autobot council... they will pay for their crimes against my people as they will for their crimes against yours!" Starscream felt himself grow hopeful once again.

"I've no doubt the decepticons will make great use of an addition such as you." He finished.

"Decepticons... I've heard of you. From the autobots." Megatron's smiled soured at the mention.

"I doubt they've had anything particularly nice to say about our cause... but make no mistake, we stand for freedom and justice above all else..."

The two looked at eachother, then starscream turned back towards the flames. He knew he needed something to fight for, seekers were very social frames to where they even had trines. Lifelong bonds that could never break even under the most stiff resistance.

He was one of the unlucky few who were born without one. A cold construct for a cold world, but he'd always considered it a blessing in disguise. It allowed him to focus entirely on his flying, then on his research.

He was broken out of his trance by a rough shove and he tumbled back, soon seeing the reason why fly right infront of his visor.

After narrowly dodging deactivation, he leapt behind the nearest cover. He drew his null rays and switched them to lethal, firing back as more explosives and blasterfire rang off in his direction.

He searched for his newfound ally, and frowned after not seeing him. Though this was replaced with slight relief as he had a message with coordinates from a comm link he'd never seen before.

He shot back at the enforcers, putting two of them down with some well placed hits, before attempting to comm for assistance.

"Hello?!" He yelled into the comm link, hoping for an answer and smiling when he heard what sounded like a garbled voice on the other end. The interference had gotten stronger but at least it was something.

"What?!" He yelled back in response, trying to get at least a clear, one-worded answer.

After a bit of static, and fighting, he yelled heard something.

"Injured- ..... primus only- ...... medical- ..... you can!"

He looked at the comm link in confusion.

"Hello?! Is anyone there?! I need immediate assistance! They're on all sides and I'm running out of cover! If you can send any Arial support, follow the SOS ping!"

He got no answer, he peaked back out from his cover and fired off again, but the barrels of his null blasters were getting hot. He'd be lucky if they didn't start misfiring soon.

Cons of having to get last-minute combat modifications... at least seekers were war frames and were decently compatible with most combat mods.

He hissed as his servo began to feel the burn from his blaster. He took out another two enforcers with his other ray and made a run for it.

He took off, trying to take flight, but got hit in the wing. He dropped back down and stumbled forward before running to a building to hide.

Soon afterwards, he heard a faint beeping noise. It was at regular intervals, but this still set off several alarm bells. Then it turned into whistling. Starscream shouted as he dove for the ground.

The second he hit the ground, everything went black and only the beeping remained.

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

The whole world was a blur as he stirred into consciousness, guided only by the beeping. He rubbed at his optics with a groan and determined he would shut the intrusive noise down...

As soon as he could will himself to move.

He reached out before his optics finally came into focus, only to freeze.

The beeping was actually the ships locator ping, and it'd just picked up abnormal energy readings. But from where?

He hummed quizzically before closing in on the energy ping, determining that it was a decepticon energon mine, one he remembered. But this was different....

"Energon doesn't give signatures of that sort..." he hummed to himself.

Energon gave a very steady signal, but this one seemed to almost "flare" in regularity... no, this wasn't energon. And if it was, it was another one of Shockwave's affront-to-primus experiments...

Thank the big mech shockwave didn't get his servos on me He thought to himself with a shudder.

He took a mental note to stay out of both Megatron AND shockwaves clutches. He had many new and interesting properties, and he had no doubt Shockwave wouldn't mind being as invasive as possible in his procedures.

He brought himself back to the ping (that still hadn't stopped, nor did it help his helmache). He was left with a decision. A decision he'd need to seriously think on.

He put his chin in one of his servos, rubbing his digits against it for some extra processing power; this was quite a tough thought, indeed.

He could attack and destroy whatever it was giving off the signature, ensuring neither side could use it. Or he could sit around and do nothing, and let the war take its course.

Obviously, his war-addled mind was set on the former, but there was only one issue... he'd be doing it all alone. No backup, no Evac, no comm'ing for a groundbridge; he'd have to plan everything down from his entry all the way to his escape route.

And there was no telling what the decpeticons were doing, and when the autobots would come snooping. Just considering all of the angles and possibilities seemed to make his helmache throb again in return.

He couldn't even groundbridge out. He had no way to.

Truth be told, he wanted to ignore it. He truly did...

He'd love nothing more than to sit by and let the war drag on in his absence. Maybe they'd all just kill each other.

But then what? He was already the last seeker... could he truly bear to be quite possibly the last living cybertronian once the smoke cleared and gave way to the carnage left in this now-pointless war's wake? The irony in that thought alone drew something between a smile and a sneer on his glossa.

Besides, he could only stay cooped up for so long... as much as he hated to admit it, his sanctuary had begun to drive him a bit stir-crazy. Even his newfound "hobbies" became repetitive to the point where he swore his processor would go on autopilot for hours before he snapped back to reality.

He'd need to expand his horizon sooner or later. While punching was fun, it was also very limited. Thankfully during his time at the seeker academy, they'd made extra emphasis on combat involving kicks to maximize a seekers' ability to defend themselves should they ever find themselves grounded. So he had a decent base.

And while starscream would love nothing more than to reminisce on his days in the vosian flight academy (or the opposite, depending on the day) he had important matters.

He already knew what he was gonna do, any attempt to dissuade himself was only gonna give the decepticons more time to finish whatever they were planning, or give the autobots the window they needed to swoop In.

He put his faceplate in his servos with a groan. His stubbornness was both a gift and a curse... more so the latter most cycles.

He trudged back to his closet and grabbed a soldering iron. He quickly (although sluggishly) got to work repairing as much of the computer systems as he possibly could.

He soon found that this level of precision was not equated with someone as recharge-deprived as he, he cursed as he burned his servo for the bazillionth time.

"Just need to connect these together and... okay... then undo these two- how did they even get like that?!" He grumbled through his work.

He dropped the iron, unknowingly about to find out that it wasn't just a soldering iron.

It was a multi-tool. With a mini plasma-cutter option.

"Frag it!" He shouted as he dropped the iron.

Without thinking, he bent down to pick the rest of the digit up, placing his other hand so that it splattered all over the electronics and wires.

This was gonna be a pain in the aft to clean.

He grabbed the nearest tarp he could find to wrap around his digit. He hissed as he did so, but not just because of the pain, but because he felt that same odd sensation. He grabbed the rest of the digit and held it close.

Soon enough, he thought, the digit would reattach itself.

"Any second no-"

[SYSTEMS ONLINE]

He yelped in surprise with a jump, looking at the lively terminal in absolute awe.

He figured he'd done a good job seeing as how he didn't destroy his only terminal, but honestly, he didn't think he did THAT good of a job.

He moved closer to check the opening he made into it circuits, and upon closer inspection, he didn't.

He actually hadn't done ANY of this. It was all in pristine condition, good as new completely inexplicably.

Intake agape, he looked from his servo, which had stopped bleeding, and back to the computer.

[STANDING BY]

"Interesting..." he'd need to remember this.

Starscream wasn't about to let this gift go to waste. He plugged the commands in to hone in on the signal, and brought up a map of all the deceptocon energon mines they had on earth. All he had to do was click on the one that was blinking.

From there, it was laughably easy to get everything he needed.

Coordinates: check

List of personnel, patrol routes and surveillance device locations: check

Schematics: downloaded and Check

It even let him know there was still energon to be found, how generous!

He chuckled, oh this was gonna be much easier than he thought.

Looking over the schematics, he mapped out his route.

There was an entrance that led into the side of the cave, it was a smaller and less noticeable one, too. It was made for waste disposal

From there, it was a few quick turns away from a small storage bay... he had a hunch that if this signature was anything interesting, that's where it'd be.

But he also kept something else in mind, just in case.

See, this particular energon tunnel wasn't just for mining operations.

Sure, maybe the autobots would be able to get their hands on some schematics of the place, and maybe the schematics he had were a bit outdated, but starscream had something even better.

Insider Intel.

There was a small research lab that was set up for the production of synthetic energon. Given their dwindling space, and the fact that the autobots have been hitting decepticon mines for a while now, they had to downsize.

The panel leading to the lab had been cleverly hidden, rather inconspicuously, by some crates litering the always-stocked cargo bay.

These schematics didn't have the exact location of the panel, but he'd worry about that later.

Right now, with his plan in mind and his route planned out, he made sure to top off on energon before departing.

Turning to his storage closet, his tank suddenly twisted in pain, earning a groan from the seeker.

Opening the door, his intake began to salivate coolant as he cracked the top of a cube open and guzzled it down haphazardly. Luckily, he'd didn't start choking.

He threw the cube aside with a long sigh, how long had he neglected to replenish his tanks?

He actually gave this some thought...

Going back through his logs, the only thing he'd had in the 7-8 earth-weeks was high-grade....

How had he forgotten something so vital for so long? What had occupied his mind to override that instinct?

He had so many questions regarding his circumstances, but one stood out.

"How am I still alive...?" He asked no one in particular.

And that question sent him back, since it didn't just apply to the present.

How was he alive... he remembered throwing himself off of the cliff, as embarrassing a memory as it was for him. The fall was hundreds upon hundreds of feet, lethal for even a grounder.

And upon even closer experimentation, now his limbs can apparently function while dismembered and even re attach themselves... although he didn't know that last one for sure, so he wasn't about to test it any further.

Among other things, too.

He looked down at his servo.

"Whats happened to me..." he mused in a hollow voice

Whatever it was, he hated the way it made him feel. It felt like ice moving through his lines whenever minor wounds would mend themselves before his optics.

But the tactical results didn't lie.

He stood in silence, he wanted to know for sure... just in case.

He took his claws and dug them into his servo, before dragging down. He gritted his dentae, bitting back an energon-curdling bellow as he did.

He pulled his claws out, flicking off the energon that smeared them. He took deep, slow breaths. He'd taken worse wounds in battle. He wouldn't die if the worst came to it, he made sure he didn't hit anything major. just hurt.

He looked down at the wounds, noting how odd the warm energon felt on his legs, before that feeling returned once again.

This time, a shiver wracked his entire frame as the mystery substance began to pool within the wounds, replacing the blue energon and nearly bubbling out and leaking down his chasis. But right as it filled each wound, it hardened, and the area felt cold as ice. Once the feeling withered away, this "new" plating turned from black to grey, good as new.

This only confirmed his thoughts on this.

He hated the feeling, but it was an invaluable asset in battle.

Before he leaves, he notes that when he bleeds with energon in his tanks, energon will spill. But when not, the black substance would take its place.... it was all so odd but weirdly beneficial.

This particular mine was in the earth continent of south America, near the coast of Peru.

Once he had the coordinates locked, he left his sanctuary and once again exposed himself to this cycles' plans for him.

Making sure to mask his own signal, he found a clear enough area to take off.

He pierced the winds as gleeful tremors wracked his frame, primus he'd neglected to fly as much as he should've... he never noticed just how much he missed the sky.

A less talked about part of seekers were their need for flight, or "sky thirst" as it's been called. A seeker will begin to show very volatile mental and emotional symptoms when the ability of flight is revoked.

Flying was often comforting to most, but to starscream, it was a way of life. All of his advantages were while he was in the air. His weaponry, maneuverability, even his frame was made to be lighter and more aerodynamic.

All that turned against him the moment he was grounded, a grounded seeker was as good as dead.

He tried to pull himself out of this little pit he was digging himself in. He was starscream! He wouldn't be weak anymore, he had enough of that with Megatron...

He bit back a growl at the name but decided not to suppress the thoughts. Maybe if he gave it time, built up the rage, he could forget about just how afraid he was.

He allowed every ounce of pain and humiliation to rush to the forefront of his thoughts... even all the times he'd begged.

His temper flared, and with that, he came to a decision.

Never again would he suffer at anyone hands the way he did with Megatron. Never again would he allow himself to be walked on, mocked... he'd once been the glorious wingleader of Vos!

He'd been one of the first flyers to even make it to the lacon institute, let alone pass. He'd been Vos's best flyer. He'd commanded his own strike squad with such ruthless efficiency that his superiors fought to not have him transferred to the R&D division.

And now, he'd been reduced to an errand-mech; a jester!

The utter embarrassment nearly made him blow a gasket or two, but he re focused himself with the familiar feeling.

From this day forward, he'd never give ground. He'd never take one step back no matter how bad it hurt, no matter how stacked against him the odds were... never again.

Of course, this was all easier said than done... but these new "traits" would surely assist.

It wasn't a long flight before he found himself nearing his destination. The coastline wrapped around the massive cliffs that led to sprawling fields.

He spotted the main entrance to the mine, but that wasn't where he was going. He circled around, looking for a particular rock and tree formation.

He felt his way around before finding the switch that opened a hatch in the ground, leading straight into the disposal department.

Decending down, he couldn't help but feel a bit closed in as his wings brushed against the rock walls around him, even as he tucked them back as far as they could go. He stifled a shudder. Seekers were not built for tight spaces...

No, he still needed to think about this. Still needed time to plan it out more, he couldn't--

-do or die, screamer!

His lines went cold as a corpse at the same voice he hoped to never hear again.

But they were right, he'd done enough planning. Steeling himself, he shuddered again as the light from the ravine opening vanished.

He allowed his optics to adjust to the darker area, and all it did was emphasize just how closed in he was. There had to be an opening soon, there just had to be!

His vents picked up as he was no hyper-aware of just how many of his components were scraping up against the wall, the screech against the walls reminded him eerily of his own.

He calmed down slightly when he felt it open up slightly. Not only was it better for his processor, but it also meant he was getting closer.

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

Optimus decided that it would be bumblebee and bulkhead that would see to the mission. It wasn't a massive con 5 having a heavy-hitter alongside the scout was always a safe bet.

Arcee offered to tag along as well, and just like that, they had a full team ready to hit the decpticons.

"There is a human settlement very close by... be careful not to bring any chaos or fighting to them." Optimus warned.

They went over some extra planning, imfil and exfil, all that stuff. It was far less complicated when there was a groundbridge involved.

Rachet huffed as he punched in the coordinates.

"You all ready?"

"You betcha!" Bulkhead exclaimed Bee beeped in agreement.

"Alright. 'Cee, keep an eye on 'em, will ya?"

Arcee smiled and nodded.

"Always do" she replied as they vanished through the green light.

Once they all stepped through, they took a second to get their bearings. It was a very quick change of scenery, after all.

"Wow..." Bulkhead exhaled in awe at the rolling plains and hills, so much green arcee was sure it'd burn into her optics... though she did have to agree with bulkhead's sentiment.

Earth had some very pretty views.

Arcee began to search for energy signatures, and the two-wheeler scanned their surroundings.

They continued walking, eventually reaching some woods, which got a sigh of relief from the team. The cover was incredibly useful.

"Man, those caves give me the creeps sometimes... can't wreck anything if i can't even move my arms" he shuddered.

"I know how you feel." Bumblebee beeped sympathetically

"Something about feeling my doors and mirrors scraping against the walls is just..."

The scout shuddered as well. Tension was thick.

Arcee was focusing on searching for signatures, but she'd agree with the sentiment... at least if she wasn't a much smaller frame than the two, but she was sympathetic. The feeling of being trapped was never one she'd wish on any of her teammates.

"Uugghh, let's talk about something else... soooo.... anyone know if anything came up from that distress signal ratch found?" Bulkhead quickly changed the subject.

"Only that it's autobot origin... whatever, or whoever it is, they're due here in at least another couple earth-weeks." Bee warbled out, remembering what ratchet had explained to optimus at the time

"Some backup would be great!" Bulkhead smiled, but faltered for a moment as a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey... you guys think it could be..." he stopped himself short.

Bumblebee looked at him, motioning to continue. Bulkhead looked ready to oblige

That was until arcee got a ping.

"Hey!" She called

"I got something!" She beckoned hurriedly, going in its direction.

"...we'll talk later." Bulkhead said as they followed behind. Bee nodded, but a look in the scouts' optics told him he'd hold him up on that.

Eventually, they came up to a cave that was sealed with a large blast door, sealed with a decepticon sigil.

"We're here..." arcee sighed. She turned to bulkhead, nodding her head in the direction of the door.

"Can you wreck it?"

"Is there anything I can't?" He laughed, arcee groaned.

"Watch me work!"

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

He walked softly down the steel-enforced halls that lined wherever rock wasn't openly exposed.

He found himself thankful for the lack of vehicons, although he did have to drop 2 patrolling ones... maybe he should've hid their frames...

He nearly turned back, but decided against it. He didn't want to waste any time.

He came up to a blast door that had an optic scanner as it's locking mechanism.

"Hmm." He grumbled.

It was risky, but if he still had his admin access from his position as SIC, then this whole thing would go so much easier.

He sighed before bringing his optics in line with the scanner, staring into the scanner while it scanned into his optics and, by extension, his processor. He held his vents.

/access granted!/

He rejoiced internally as the bilateral doors slid open, revealing the mining portion of the cave.

The door made some noise and was bound to attract vehicons. With this in mind, he dipped inside and hid behind some of the large stalagtite.

Sure enough, one came calling not long after. This one was all alone, easy pickings.

He ducked out and closed in on it, ensuring he was out of sight of its companions.

He put a servo over its instake and dragged it to his hiding spot, keeping control over its armed servo. He twisted and sent it down on its back before plunging his talons through its chasis.

Easy as.

...

That took far too long for one single vehicon, he needed to make himself more...efficient.

He peeked out again and scouted out the rest of the vast cave.

Thankfully, only 5 more this time. And they were pretty evenly Spaced out.

He ducked out again, two were standing guard behind some stacked crates of either equipment or energon. He switched his null rays to non-lethal, but not because he intended to be merciful.

He circled around deftly, navigating to avoid sight before creeping up behind them. He raised and fired. Thankfully, the non-lethal rays were relatively silent.

He finished them the same way he did the last one, talons through the chasis.

"Halt!" Frag, he wasn't as slick as he thought. His only option now was to take the last three out as quickly as possible.

He switched to lethal as quickly as he could and put two right through it's chasis, before diving behind cover while the other 2 fired at him

He took a hit or two along the way but managed to wrap around and find a good flank.

He riddled the last two for good measure. They were stacked behind one another from the angle, so precision was secondary to putting them down.

He flicked energon off his talons with a sigh, his tank churned again.

"I'll never get used to that." He scowled.

It was an unnatural feeling, like something was alive in his lines and making its way to his wounds independently. Regardless of his own willingness.

Nevertheless, the hits he took were thoroughly shaken off and he was ready to go once again.

He found another set of hallways and groaned.

"This wasn't on the schematics..."

He trudged onwards, noting the feeling in his chasis before smiling despite his earlier frustration.

If he was honest, that bit of action was the most alive he'd felt in... primus, he couldn't even remember.

And this time, he got to be the hammer!

Oh yeah, this felt good.

He came up to a set of two doors branching off to each side.

Trying the one on the left, he was greeted with blasterfire almost immediately... how did they know?!

"Intruder alert!" He heard one of the vehicons drone out. Ah, that explained it.

"Frag, wasn't fast enough!"

This whole operations' gone to scrap! He screamed at himself mentally

He sent two shots in from cover, not even bothering to look around the corner. He was too fragging ticked off that they were onto him!

The blaster fire ceased, and after a few seconds of silence, He charged in, sending heat towards the vehicons as he reared the corner to cover his entrance.

He punched one in the helm and used it as a shield, blocking the fire from the other and throwing its lifeless frame at it.

It was pinned under its comrades body, and starscream sent a final shot into its helm before it could send any distress signals.

He scanned the area only to find that he just starched 2 vehicons over a fragging supply room...

He was in the wrong area.

"Are you fragging kidding me?!" He exclaimed in disbelief. There wasn't even anything useful here!

Except maybe....

Before walking away, he scanned the surroundings and noticed some useful things.

A small, handheld blaster pistol. Perfect for when his own wrist-blasters began to overheat, he'd need to see about making some bougie-aft totally-not-illegal self mod to get a holster on his hip for it.

Next was a mini EMP device. Guaranteed to knock out comms, cut off groundbridges, disable most weapons and equipment, and even interfere with cybertronian optics.

Perfect for if he needed to get out of a pinch.

He made sure the emp was disabled before storing it in his storage compartment, then held the blaster in his servo. It's grip even had a trigger-guard that wrapped around and could serve as protection to his servo in case things got too close and too personal.

He heard clambering from outside the storage room, coming closer. He hid behind the nearest cover.

"Unit 1873 and unit 2321, respond immediately!" The vehicons monotonous voice rumbled.

Starscream popped out and aimed, but the blaster didn't fire.

He yelped in surprise, the damn safety was on!

"Halt!" It shouted before starscream shot it with his own blaster.

Once It fell with a metallic clamber, he inspected the blaster to find the safety.

He flipped the selector, and it roared to life with light and energy. He left the room with a smile, and a new surprise up his sleeve.

He went directly across the hall to the other door, he opened it and sighed when he found the central control room. Finally, Something went right!

He peeked around, trying to see if he was alone which, thankfully, he was.

The screen went alit with all kinds of number and statistics, from energon cube storage to equipment condition to personnel... but he was looking for something specific...if he was lucky, he cou-

SHRRK

Pain exploded through his chasis, he looked down and found a familiar talon pierced through.

"Aww~ trying to get your little revenge after Megatron left you for scrap? Even when you're not with us you're always obsessed~" airachnid said.

He spun out and swung for airachnid, who lept back in surprise as his servo grazed harmlessly.

"I'm almost positive I hit his spark chamber..." She mumbled.

Starscream disregarded the wound, despite the fact his intake was choking up with energon and one could probably see right through him should they look through the wound.

The femme circled slowly while starscream did the same, both searched for an opening but starscream decided to close the distance first.

He opened his missile compartment and sent 2 at her, partially to encourage her to back up into the wall, and also to cover his entrance.

He dashed in as the missiles flew, thankfully airachnid did back straight up and now her back was much closer to the wall.

But the femme was still as quick and tricky as they come, she lunged in and got a stab off with another of her legs.

He swung again, and he felt his servo meet something solid.

Airachnid pulled and pulled at the leg that had impaled the seeker but it wouldn't come out, and now he had her right where he wanted her.

He clinched, tying her arms up with his and using his size to back her up into the wall, before making just enough space to land punches.

He landed 2 hooks to airachnds helm before going to the chasis. The leg had released itself but now she couldn't get enough space to get her lunging attacks off.

Worse still, she was incredibly concussed. Her frame wasn't made to handle direct blows, much less to her helm.

He landed another 2 hooks to the chasis before coming up with an uppercut and another hook to her helm, she swiped back at him with her talons in return, but he slid back and landed a counter left-cross that buckled her legs momentarily.

He followed closely, trying to line up something big as she put her hands up to block any other strikes.

The femmes form went limp, held up only by her talons being planted on starscreams' chasis. But once he pulled her out, he saw just how out she was.

She once again swiped at him, and he slid back, but this time, she followed up with a thurst to catch him backing up. But in a split second observation, he caught him winding up the other side for the lunge, and even though she got him, he already fired off a lead right hook that sailed over her shoulder-plating and rattled her processor.

Unmoving, she appeared nearly lifeless. Only proof otherwise being that there was no way a cybertronian could be killed by such small-scale blunt force trauma. He looked at his right hand, then back to airachnid, in complete awe.

The bot he hated the 2nd most, the one who had everyone but him fooled. He'd convinced himself that he'd sell out the decepticons for a new coat of paint. He'd seen how formidable she'd been, how fast and deadly her attacks were. And in such a short span of time, he nullified all of it.

He could finish the job now, but now the alarms began to blare.

He turned back around towards the computer, thankful that it didn't suffer any damage during the fight.

He checked the security cameras and found the autobots trying to break down the blast door to the main entrance. He nearly chuckled before remembering that using the emergency shutdown would open everything up, including the main entrance.

He had no doubt he'd have an encounter soon enough.

He searched for the emergency release. A failsafe incase something were to happen that locked every decepticon inside... the blast doors separating the inside from the out was neigh impenetrable.

As one was finding out the hard way.

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

"Ngh!" Bulkhead grunted again as servo met hard steel, that time it even hurt a bit.

Arcee and bumblebee sat amongst themselves, trying to think of another way in.

"Give it a rest, bulkhead. I don't think we're getting in this way." Arcee groaned as she watched her teammate try fruitlessly to smash the blast door in.

"Uh uh! I'm telling you, I felt some give!" He exclaimed not very convincingly.

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He sifted through the numbers and logistics. That wasn't exactly what he was here for. He opened each program, trying to look for the admin console. If he could find that, he'd find the release, and he'd be able to more accurately track the energy signature.

"C'mon... where's the command prompt?"

He finally found the right gateway, followed it with a chain of commands, and eventually found what he was looking for.

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Bulkhead continued his assault on the blast door while bumblebee and arcee thought up a way to get in.

"Maybe... we could dig around it? Bee warbled

"We could... but it'd take too long. Plus it's too noisy." Arcee dismissed.

"Maybe we wait for one to come out?" She added.

"Might be our best chance... not like the door is just gonna open..." he jumbled.

"Guys!" They heard bulkhead call

"Look!" The two sped over to the wreckers' side and stared, intakes agape at the equally agape door.

"How... did you...?" Arcee began to question.

"I dunno, I was beating on it, then it just opened!"

Arcee looked at bumblebee and the two shrugged. They weren't gonna complain.

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I'm not gonna lie yall, I had to cut this one short cuz I'd been "working" on it for well over a month. I intend to change the way I approach these chapters and it starts with not using tumblrs' shittt draft feature and instead moving over to Google docs.

[tf-es-unbreakable-au]

Cybertron deserves to have a little squishy guy that's either very threatened or endangered and has an inexplicably large fan base online despite being "objectively" ugly, because people love it for that to the point they're helping protect the species