August 9th-15th, 2026. We are coming in for the first time with the one, the only [drum roll please], Aftplug Week!
What is Aftplug?
The alternative to valveplug!
Aftplug serves as back port interfacing contrary to valves and valve adjacent interfacing.
For short, what what in the robutt.
Seven days, three alternate themes for each. Every participant is welcome to double dip or mix things up. Arched back for a tighter fit? Maybe tied up tight! The prompts are your mecha oysters.
An AO3 Collection will be available closer to the start date.
Guidelines:
Posts for this event will use #aftplug tag. If you would like a reblog, please ping @aftplugweek or use the #aftplugweek26 tag. This will give us more chances to find your work!!
Reblogs will begin the week of August 9th until the end of the month on the 31st.
Works have no word limit. Art does not have any quality requirements. Spread the word! Any and all styles of work are welcome for anyone that would like to participate.
The focus for this event is anal play and anal adjacent interfacing. Bots typically do not or will not have a valve. Works should have a predominant focus on an aft port. How you work out the anatomy is up to you!
Rules and Regulations:
This is a NSFW only event. Contributors must be over 18 years of age to participate.
Absolutely no AI generated content please and thanks!,
No content that breaks global tumblr rules.,
Posts over 100 words must have a cut.
To add one, select the 'add read more link' button in your post! It looks like a hamburger/turkey sandwich/roast beef sandwich.
No content involving underage human characters, please.
When Starscream returned to their quarters, his guns had been remounted to his upper arms, and despite all of Thundercracker’s worries, he couldn’t stop a smile surfacing. Skywarp, naturally, went further. He whistled, something not many Seekers could do, and Starscream looked a little self-conscious at being the focus of both his wingmates’ attention.
He sat down on his berth and rubbed at the long barrel of one gun as though trying to remove a scuff. “It took longer than I expected,” he said, staring down at his arm. “There was a lot to be reconnected and calibrated, and the medics wanted me to try a little target practice afterwards to make certain there was nothing more to be done.”
His voice was flat, the recitation factual. Skywarp exchanged a quick look with Thundercracker and then pretended to be busy repairing a broken tool. Thundercracker cleared his throat.
“Well, we’re glad that’s taken care of,” he said. “Nothing happened while you were gone.”
Starscream nodded without meeting his optics, and a heavy silence fell. Thundercracker felt even heavier, as though there were weights pulling him down. This was good, he told himself. Starscream looked completely normal again, and he could defend himself easily now, which was even better.
Except he’s not completely normal, is he? he thought. Starscream had changed too much, and some of that change showed even after the restoration of his guns. Even with his wingmates, he was tightly closed-off, withdrawn. Thundercracker tried to remember the last time he’d seen Starscream smile, and realized it had been the day they’d split up after leaving Vos, after Starscream had said they would approach different cities to complete their mission faster. “Good luck, you two,” he’d said with a grin, his expression cheerful and undaunted.
He still had the same confidence, Thundercracker thought. Outwardly, anyway. But otherwise? Nothing was the same. Maybe nothing would ever be again.
No, he couldn’t think like that. Struggling to push the bleakness away, he sat up and checked his fuel level, which hovered at half-point. But that was enough for a flight. The three of them hadn’t flown for fun since before they’d been separated, and if anything could brighten Starscream’s mood, that—
A sharp ping on his comm’s Seekerwide channel put an end to that, though Skywarp was faster and accessed his own comm first. “A summons from the Presidium?” he said, frowning.
“In the common hall.” Starscream pushed himself off his berth and went to the door.
Why would the Presidium want to speak to all of them? Thundercracker wondered. The Presidium had as little as possible to do with Seekers; Starscream had been right about that much. It was the whole reason the liaison officer appointed to act as a go-between was a grounder, and Thundercracker had once overheard Farsight refer to his meetings with the Seekers as “slumming”. He could only hope that the Presidium hadn’t decided that Starscream’s proposition was treason or something of the sort.
The common hall was half full when the three of them reached it, and they quickly found places on a bench. At least they wouldn’t be standing in the center of the floor this time, all optics on them. As more Seekers came in, several of them glanced at Starscream, clearly noticing that his guns were back, but no one had a chance to speak to him before Farsight entered. He strode to the center of the floor at once, and held up his hands for silence.
“Thank you,” he said, raising his voice although they rarely had difficulty hearing him when he spoke at a normal pitch. The room looked simple and utilitarian, but it had been designed with both flight and acoustics in mind, and now Farsight’s voice seemed to echo off the walls. “Thank you, all of you, for responding to the summons. I know there are demands on your time so I won’t take up much of it. In fact, the Presidium wouldn’t have called this gathering if the matter at hand wasn’t so serious.”
He paused either for air or for effect, and Starscream spoke into the silence. “So what is the matter at hand?” he asked.
Farsight turned to stare at him, optics narrowing a little. “I’m glad you asked, Starscream, because it has to do with you.” He swung around to take in the rest of the gathering. “Any Seekers who wish to leave Vos and go where they please are free to do so, as long as Starscream is telling the truth to you all. If this isn’t the case, though, the Presidium must step in for the common good.”
For a moment there was a stunned silence. Then the entire hall broke into exclamations, most along the lines of Vos being a free city whose citizens were allowed to leave if they wanted to do so. It wasn’t up to the Presidium to give them that choice; it was their right to begin with. Farsight raised his voice even further to be heard.
“We cannot allow Vosian citizens to be taken advantage of!” he shouted. “We cannot allow any of you to be led into a trap!”
“What trap?” someone demanded. Thundercracker didn’t see who it was because he didn’t look away from Farsight.
“What makes you think Starscream isn’t telling the truth?” Archon looked around irritably. “Shut up, everyone, and let him answer!”
The clamor died down, and Farsight spoke again. “I received a transmission from a group of mercenaries who Starscream had dealings with recently,” he said. “From what they told me, the whole reason Starscream was detained in Altihex was that he walked into an obvious ambush. Ideally, he would have corrected his mistake by escaping, but he failed to do so, so he remained in Altihex until he was handed over to Megatron, who installed him in his personal quarters.” His mouth turned down at the corners, which Thundercracker suspected was an attempt to look sad. “That must have been so difficult for you, Starscream,” Farsight continued. “I know how all of you feel about grounders and crawlers, and here you were having to submit to one whenever he chose to make use of—”
“That’s not what happened.” Starscream’s voice was taut, held under rigid control.
“Oh?” Farsight’s optic ridges went up. “Which part of it is inaccurate?”
“I didn’t submit to him, as you put it.”
“So he raped you?”
“No!” Starscream snapped. “If at any point I’d refused, he would have stopped.”
“You were hardly in a position to refuse, were you?” Farsight shot back.
“I’m hardly in a position to recruit anyone for the Decepticon cause either, am I? Not being in a good position to do something has never stopped me from doing it if I felt it was necessary.”
Good for you! Thundercracker thought, hoping Starscream sensed that he liked the comeback. Then he remembered that he could no longer detect anything about Starscream through their trine bond, which meant Starscream had no idea what he felt either.
“So why didn’t you refuse him, then?” Archon called out.
“I was alone, and—” Starscream paused for an instant, then went on. “And he’s attractive for a grounder. Intelligent, powerful—”
“Wait, you were alone?” Archon frowned. “I thought Skywarp was there too.”
Farsight sighed. “Sadly, no, he wasn’t. That was yet another lie Starscream told us. Perhaps living with Decepticons, not to mention hopping eagerly into their leader’s berth, does that to your moral compass, assuming you had one to begin with—”
“Leave him alone!” Skywarp was on his feet at once, optics bright with rising anger. “He didn’t have a choice—”
“Megatron didn’t know Skywarp was also a prisoner in Altihex,” Starscream cut in, getting up too. “I was offered to him as payment for a debt, and the Altihex authorities never told him about Skywarp. But he found out from me, and during the battle that began and ended outside the gates of Polyhex, the two of us rescued Skywarp from the—”
Farsight snorted. “This ruthless warlord fought another city-state to rescue a Seeker he didn’t even know? More likely he has a Seeker fetish and just wants to ‘face as many of you as possible.”
Turbulence shook his head. “I don’t believe someone who rules a city couldn’t get Skywarp out of there any other way. Why couldn’t he trade for Skywarp, or do some sort of prisoner exchange? Why would he need to start a battle?”
“Yeah, who in their right mind would go to battle over Skywarp?” Warhawk jeered. “If ignorance is bliss, Skywarp must be the happiest mech on the planet, but Megatron was willing to sacrifice troops for him anyway?”
“I agree,” Blacktalon said. “If the Decepticons always do this sort of idiotic thing, their future will be one of constant warfare. I’m not interested in being a part of that.”
Ramjet made a disgusted sound. “Starscream, just tell us the truth!” he said, sounding as though he was half a klik away from storming across the hall and shaking a few answers out of Starscream.
“Yes, what really happened?” Archon demanded. “Because we’re not going to the next room, let alone to a foreign city, if we can’t trust what we’re being told about the place.”
Aquiline’s grin was victorious—because this time, Thundercracker thought, he hadn’t even needed to confront them to get what he wanted. “Go on, Starscream, tell the truth for once,” he said. “Tell us all about what you did in Polyhex.”
“Silence!” Farsight shouted to be heard over the chaos. “It’s entirely possible that servicing Megatron in the berth was Starscream’s only way of paying off the cost of his repairs or upkeep. We have no way of knowing for sure. What we do know is that we only have Starscream’s word for it that you’re actually wanted in Polyhex. If Megatron values you at all, shouldn’t he have sent a little more than this? Not that I expected gifts or tribute, generous though that would be, but why not send a document, some official statement of intent? We have nothing except Starscream’s word, and at best, Starscream is hiding something. At worst, he will lead you into a place you have never seen, to have Primus knows what done to you. Is that what you want? Any of you?”
No one answered. Thundercracker gripped the edge of the bench so hard his fingers hurt, wishing he could find some way to counter all that, although he knew Farsight would find a way to twist or tear apart anything he said. Beside him, Starscream stood motionless, as if he was waiting for this all to be over.
Naturally, Farsight hadn’t finished. “Oh, and before I forget,” he said, pointedly turning his back on them to address the other Seekers, “the last thing the mercenaries claimed is that Starscream instigated the battle between Polyhex and Altihex, and this pay-docking may well be punishment for that. Because even though Starscream likes to pretend differently, he is a creature of chaos, and he brings about nothing good—not for the Decepticons, not for other Seekers, not for anyone.”
Primus.
Thundercracker was too stunned to think anything else. The condemnation of Starscream was so powerful that not a single voice spoke up in his defense, and Starscream himself said nothing either.
He turned and strode away instead, towards the doors. Thundercracker shook off what felt like an instant’s paralysis and went after him, while Skywarp beat them both to the doors, teleporting there to hold them open. The silence in the hall felt frozen, infinite. Even Farsight didn’t rub it in with some mocking comment about how Starscream was running away like a coward, although Thundercracker suspected that would come later, once the doors closed behind them.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more. As soon as they were outside the common hall, still without saying a word, Starscream lit his engines and transformed. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed—what else was there to do?—as he soared up and headed out of the city.
***
Starscream said nothing as they flew on, leaving Vos to sink down to a speck in the distance behind them, but it didn't take Thundercracker long to realize they were heading for the city ruins. Probably because that was the only place Starscream could now go. Their fuel levels certainly weren't enough to fly back to Polyhex, and as for returning to Vos... well, after being on the receiving end of a hatchet job like the one Farsight had handed out, who would want to show their face there again?
The tumbled remains of buildings were soon in sight, and as Starscream shed altitude, Thundercracker and Skywarp did the same, flaps rising as they came in to land. Starscream transformed just above the floor of an old watchtower, its roof and walls long since gone, and the three of them landed on it.
Still silent, Starscream went to a block of cracked and pitted concrete that might have been part of a pillar a thousand years ago. He sat down on it, looking out over the city, his expression unreadable.
Skywarp gave Thundercracker a what-do-we-do-now look, and he shrugged. Wait for Starscream to decide their course of action, he supposed. Except Starscream didn't say anything, and he sat so still he might have been one of the featureless sculptures in the city, their faces blank from erosion. If someone had told Thundercracker that his wingleader had just descended into untreatable catatonia, he would have found that only too easy to believe.
Finally he couldn't take it any longer. "Starscream…" he began.
"Be quiet."
Well, at least Starscream could still hear them and speak to them, not that the curt order was much of an improvement. Thundercracker hesitated, unsure whether to obey. Yes, Starscream was their wingleader, but few if any Seekers meekly complied with orders that made no sense. Wingleaders earned their positions for three reasons—their flying skill, their force of personality, and the respect of their wingmates. Right now, Starscream still had the first of those.
The others, though…
Skywarp leaned close. “We can’t just wait here forever,” he whispered.
That meant Thundercracker had to say something, because Skywarp was not tactful at the best of times. “Starscream,” he said, trying for his most reasonable tone, “listen to me.” He couldn’t bring himself to say please, because he had never begged anyone for anything. “We don’t need to go back there or even see any of them again. We can leave now—”
“I said be quiet!” Starscream didn’t even look at him. “There has to be a way out of this,” he said as if to himself.
Suddenly Thundercracker had had enough. He was more even-tempered than either of his wingmates, but his patience had come to an end. “You know what?” he said. “I’m tired of this.”
That made Starscream turn around to stare at him, and Thundercracker went on. “We get it, all right? We know you want to bring enough Seekers to Polyhex to earn us all a solid footing there, because if it’s just the three of us, we’ll be stretched thin trying to meet all of the Decepticon Army’s air support needs.”
“Yeah,” Skywarp said. “But you can’t do it. Not after what happened there, and not when you’re like this.”
“Like what?” Starscream said, biting the words out.
“You know what I mean,” Skywarp said. “Everyone can see you’re hiding something, so the less you say, the worse they imagine.”
Starscream got up, his optics narrowing. “Well, then, we should all be thankful they aren’t imagining anything about you. Because none of this would have happened if you’d kept your mouth shut when you were in Altihex.”
“What?” Skywarp looked stunned. “You think that was my fault?”
“Stay out of this!” Starscream snapped, then turned back to Skywarp. “Everything that happened there was because of you. Because you had the bright idea of telling them you can teleport. And now, when I’m struggling to secure a future for us, what in the Pit are you doing, other than making my life that much more difficult?”
For a long moment Skywarp was silent, and then he nodded slowly. “Okay.” His voice was toneless. “Thanks for letting me know where I stand.”
Thundercracker had no idea what was going to happen now, only that he had to head it off, whatever it was. “Skywarp—”
“I’m not taking any more of this,” Skywarp told him. He spoke quietly, as though the time for shouts and arguments was long past, and when he glanced back at Starscream, it was as though he was looking at a stranger. “You think I’m such a deadweight?” he said. “Fine, go to Polyhex without me. Good luck, TC.”
He disappeared in a flash of light. Thundercracker felt as though the solidity of the concrete beneath his feet had gone with Skywarp. What had just happened? He knew Skywarp had meant every word of what he’d just said, so what in the world were they going to do now?
“What the frag is wrong with you?” Thundercracker said.
He spoke with helplessness rather than condemnation, but the scathing, contemptuous look he got in return was like a splash of acid to the face. Starscream’s mouth tightened into a thin line as though he was barely preventing himself from making some retort, and he turned around to stare out over the ruins again.
Like he can ignore the problem and it’ll go away somehow, Thundercracker thought. He was suddenly so angry that it eclipsed even the feeling of the world shifting sharply beneath him. Like he can ignore us and we’ll fall in line anyway, and if we don’t, it’s no big deal because he can manage on his own. Thundercracker had remained behind not because he didn’t know where Skywarp was—he could send a query ping and get his wingmate’s new coordinates in the next instant—but because he didn’t want to abandon Starscream, to leave him alone now of all times. And yet Starscream had turned his back, refusing to even acknowledge Thundercracker.
Without thinking, he reached out, intending to grab Starscream’s arm and turn him around so they could at least try talking to each other, and his hand struck the edge of Starscream’s wing.
The impact wasn’t a hard one. It wouldn’t leave a scratch, let alone a dent. But Starscream whirled around, so fast that his wing missed Thundercracker’s face by mere inches.
Starscream’s fist did not. The punch sent Thundercracker staggering back before he caught himself and recovered his balance. One side of his face was hot and numb, and then the momentary shock gave way to a sharp pain that finished off the last of his restraint.
He closed the distance between them and grabbed Starscream’s upper arms, all but immobilizing them. Starscream kicked out at him, but Thundercracker had been anticipating that. He threw his weight forward, slamming bodily into Starscream and sending them both to the surface of the roof. Starscream couldn’t twist away because of the grip on his arms, and Thundercracker landed on top of him, hard enough that there was a crack as glass broke. Starscream’s vents expelled air in a gasp.
The sound brought Thundercracker back to his senses. Had this all really happened? He and Starscream had argued a few times in the past, but Starscream had never raised a hand to him before, nor had Thundercracker ever done… any of this. A split now ran the length of the amber glass of Starscream’s instrumentation canopy, and he looked as stunned as Thundercracker felt.
The slow rupture of their trine might have begun some time ago, but Thundercracker had the terrible suspicion it had just concluded. He let go of Starscream at once, and started to push himself off.
Starscream caught his shoulders, stopping him. “Don’t go,” he whispered.
The change in his voice wasn’t as noticeable when he spoke like that, so quietly that Thundercracker might not have heard him if they hadn’t been so close. For the first time since they had returned to Vos, his expression was unguarded, and Thundercracker realized that even after they had been reunited, Starscream had been alone. But for the first time, there were no more barriers between them, no more cool defenses, and Thundercracker leaned closer, let Starscream draw him down the rest of the way.
His optics offlined of their own volition, but he didn’t need to see any longer, not when his mouth found Starscream’s. A soft whimper was muffled by a kiss so relentless that it might have hurt if not for the fierce arousal that burned through him from the contact, from the feel of Starscream’s arms around him. Knowing only that he needed more, he moved to Starscream’s jawline and then down his throat, biting down on a neck cable hard enough to elicit another gasp. Starscream’s frame stiffened, and then Thundercracker soothed the mark he’d made with slow licks, over and over again.
Starscream shuddered. There was nothing of pain in the moan that escaped him, only a desire that set Thundercracker’s entire sensor net aflame. He kissed Starscream again, deeper this time, plundering his mouth with a ferocity he had never imagined he could feel, let alone unleash on a wingmate, but instead of fighting or pushing him away, Starscream responded eagerly, kissing him back. His hands slid down Thundercracker’s shoulder-vents and onto the flats of his wings, stroking and searching.
The distance between them vanished, and the time they’d spent apart didn’t matter any more. Starscream still remembered how to touch him. How to flex his ailerons and drag tense fingertips over the sleek planes of metal to the sensors at their edges, grazing Thundercracker’s wingtips with firm caresses and gentle twists. Thundercracker groaned, his frame moving in a reflexive response so his fuselage ground against Starscream’s.
The two of them had interfaced more times than he could remember, but it had never been like this before, all Thundercracker’s systems kicked into high gear, all his anger and fear subsumed by lust. He grabbed one of Starscream’s hands and pushed it down over his instrumentation canopy, sliding Starscream’s palm hard over the smooth glass and across the armor beneath it. The engines below that reacted as if it was the first time Thundercracker had ever been touched, as if it was the first time supple blue fingers had slipped into the narrow gaps as armor plates flexed slightly apart. Thundercracker writhed as Starscream found the receptors just beneath his armor, teased and stimulated them, and his other hand had never left Thundercracker’s wingtip, playing with it, squeezing it, until the sensations crested to a peak and Thundercracker overloaded with a shout. His vision shattered into static and his frame jerked again and again with a pleasure so intense that he thought he would offline from it.
He might actually have offlined, for a few moments at least, because when his optics readjusted themselves, he realized he was lying on top of Starscream. The roar of ventilation died down enough for him to hear the rapid thrumming of Starscream’s systems, driving up the temperature of the red fuselage pressed against his. Though if Starscream was at all annoyed about not having overloaded yet, it didn’t show in the way he stroked Thundercracker’s arm and trailed his fingertips along the leading edge of a wing.
Then again, Starscream had always been a generous lover. It was his mind he refused to share with anyone else, not his body.
But even that didn’t matter—at least, not for now. Turning his head, Thundercracker nuzzled one of Starscream’s shoulder-vents as he worked his elbows under him just enough to support his weight. Then he moved slowly down over Starscream’s fuselage, tilting his own body just enough to let heated air from his vents drift over the red plating before he followed each ghosting breath with his mouth. He blew softly into transformation seams and kissed every mark their interfacing had left, every scratch and scrape. Starscream’s own ventilations came faster, internal fans whirring.
“Thundercracker…” he whispered. His voice was unsteady with need. “Please…”
Thundercracker could no more have resisted that than he could have stopped existing. He slid his body up over Starscream’s, gently this time, careful not to touch the split in Starscream’s canopy, but Starscream caught his arms and pulled him down. He lifted his face and Thundercracker met him halfway in a kiss as tender as it was demanding. Starscream’s head fell back in surrender, and when they broke apart, it was only so Thundercracker could glance once at his wing and then back at him, a lightning-fast asking of the sort that only occurred between trinemates who had flown together so long that no words were necessary.
Starscream’s slight nod was all the answer Thundercracker needed. He reached out, but kept his hand poised over Starscream’s wing, prolonging the anticipation that sent a shiver through the red fuselage under him. Then he lowered his hand, so slowly that Starscream’s optics had offlined even before he made contact, and when his fingers closed around a wingtip, Starscream groaned. His fingers tightened on Thundercracker’s arm, and his entire frame was taut, trembling, cables standing out in his throat. Thundercracker thought he had never looked more beautiful.
“Star.” He lowered his head to whisper in Starscream’s audial as he stroked and fondled. “Ah, Star, that’s it, that’s it, now—” He flicked his thumb against the sensitive wingtip, and it was enough. Starscream cried out, convulsing against him. Energy snapped through his systems in wave after wave of clenching release, and Thundercracker felt as though the overload drove through him as well, making him shudder with an echo of pleasure, making him swallow a moan, low in his throat.
Gradually Starscream’s tight grip on him relaxed, and Thundercracker rolled off him, careful not to accidentally touch a wing as he did so. He could tell that those had been replaced; they looked too pristine, and they seemed to be as sensitive as if the procedure had happened very recently. It made him wonder, far from the first time, exactly what had happened to Starscream while they’d been separated. Megatron knew about it, Thundercracker thought, but that was probably because Megatron would have tossed Starscream out of a window if Starscream had given him any attitude.
Sighing through his vents, he waited until Starscream’s optics came back online, and then he got to his feet, extending a hand. Starscream took it and Thundercracker pulled him up, but as soon as he did so, Starscream drew his hand back. He was clearly trying to return to his coolly self-sufficient mindset, and Thundercracker knew he had to head that off at once.
“Starscream,” he said, quietly but firmly, “we’re going back to Polyhex with you. We’d go anywhere with you.” No matter what Skywarp had said, even in the course of the most bitter fight they’d ever had, he would come around if Starscream took the first step towards mending matters between them. If.
Shaking off the momentary pessimism, Thundercracker continued. “And you don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to. But if you’re trying to convince others, you’ll need to recalculate your approach vector.”
“I know.” Starscream didn’t look at Thundercracker, but at least he sounded too tired to argue any further. Might as well get this over with, Thundercracker thought.
“Then that’s all I have to say.” He kept his tone calm. “Oh, except for one thing. Go apologize to Skywarp.”
That brought Starscream’s head up at once, an affronted look in his optics, so Thundercracker went on before Starscream could object. “I mean it. None of this is his fault. Even if he teleported all over Altihex holding a sign saying ‘I can teleport’, they had no right to do what they did to him.” Or to you, he thought. “And do you think we can afford to fight with each other right now?”
For a long moment Starscream said nothing, and although his features didn’t give anything away, Thundercracker knew an apology would stick in his throat like a handful of rusted nails. Wingleaders didn’t normally humble themselves before anyone, and Starscream’s pride was stratospheric. So Thundercracker said nothing more, only waited with a patience that could outlast that of either of his wingmates, and finally Starscream gave in.
“Where is he?” he said.
Thundercracker sent a query to Skywarp and got a reply. “Transmitting coordinates,” he said matter-of-factly, and did so. Starscream turned and soared off the roof, transforming as he did so, while Thundercracker sent a swift transmission to Skywarp to tell him what to expect—and to ask him to at least hear Starscream out. Because this might be their last chance to come back together as a trine. Thundercracker could live without a home in Polyhex, without a future in the Decepticon Army, without a great many things. But not without the wingmates he’d once thought he’d lost for ever. He would do anything in his power never to lose them again.
***
If he hadn’t been aware of where to go, Starscream knew Skywarp would be impossible to find. There were simply too many hiding spots and concealed places in the city ruins, such that no number of overhead flights would be successful, and on top of that, Skywarp might teleport away at the first indication that he’d been seen. Starscream could only hope that wouldn’t happen now. Even Thundercracker might not be willing to give him a second chance if things went wrong again.
Starscream circled a low courtyard with a wall that had arches built into it, caught a glimpse of black armor almost unseen in the shadows of one of those archways, and cut his speed. He transformed as he fell, though he barely felt the impact when his feet hit the ground. The courtyard was empty except for a single bench and a circular hollow which might have been a pool at some point. On the other side of the hollow, leaning against a wall with his arms folded across his cockpit, Skywarp gave him a single wary look. His optics glowed redly in the gloom, but at least he didn’t seem angry.
Telling himself that if he could live through being taken apart in front of all the Seekers, he could do this, Starscream swallowed what remained of his dignity. “I’m sorry I said that.”
There was no reply, so he supposed he needed to continue. “Thundercracker told me none of this is your fault,” he said, staring down at his feet, “and he’s right. I shouldn’t have—”
“I don’t care about that,” Skywarp interrupted, and Starscream looked up. He doesn’t care? Then why am I doing this? “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”
Not happening, Starscream thought unhappily. Skywarp wanted things to be what they were before they’d left Vos, and Starscream longed to go back to Polyhex in accomplishment and victory, rather than trailing in with his wings held low. Neither of them were going to get what they wanted.
Skywarp took a step out from under the archway, though he didn’t come any closer. “Even if we go back, this won’t change, will it?” His voice was tired and dispirited. “You’ll still be… different.”
Starscream would have given anything to be seen as the same mech he’d been before any of this had happened, back when his wingmates had supported him unreservedly and the other Seekers had trusted him. He’d thought things would be different when his weapons had been remounted, when he’d finally looked like any other Seeker, but once again his destination had shifted to be just out of reach. What more did he need to do?
“I’ll get repairs to my vocalizer done once we’re back in Polyhex,” he said.
Skywarp shook his head impatiently. “I don’t mean your voice. No one cares that you sound like a… um, like this.” Starscream gave him an irritated look, but Skywarp ignored that and went on. “I mean everything else. You don’t talk to us any more. You don’t even let us feel you through the bond.”
“That’s because of—” He caught himself just in time.
“Because of what?”
Starscream couldn’t answer. All his internal components compressed into a tight knot. He stared at the courtyard tiles, wondering why he had ever agreed to this. Was it too late to just leave?
“Starscream, please,” Skywarp said. “Don’t shut us out any more.”
In all his life, Starscream had never heard Skywarp speak like that, in an appeal that struggled beyond the despair in his voice. He felt as though something had just cracked deep inside his chest, as though the fight was finally over for him.
“I think it’s a side effect of drug dependency,” he said, not looking up. “I couldn’t feel either of you after that happened.”
“Drug dependency?”
“They kept me doped up in Altihex.”
“So you wouldn’t try to escape, or fight them?”
Starscream nodded, following the line of a crack in the tiled floor with his optics. “I did try to escape once, at the start,” he said, when Skywarp didn’t say anything. “That’s how my vocalizer got damaged. Razor wire.” It was difficult to say, the words catching in his throat as though he was being garrotted all over again.
Skywarp moved closer, skirting the hollow in the courtyard’s center. “They tortured you, didn’t they.” It seemed a rhetorical question, so Starscream was silent, biting his lip. “I’m not stupid, Starscream. Not all the time, anyway. And back in Polyhex when we were waiting for you to be repaired, TC warned me that whatever had happened to you, it wasn’t good, so I shouldn’t ask you about it.”
“Good call on his part.” This had gone on long enough, and what Starscream wanted most was to put the past behind him, not dig it all up again to be displayed for Skywarp. He looked up, making an effort to seem brisk and self-assured. “And speaking of our wingmate, let’s go find him and get ready to leave. If we—”
“Wait a klik,” Skywarp said. “I was wondering why they did that to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Anyway, what’s there to wonder? They were sadistic psychopaths who would have done that to any outsider unlucky enough to be in their power.”
“Then why didn’t they do anything to me?”
“They kept you in stasis lock, you idiot.” Starscream spoke as bitingly as he could, hoping that would distract Skywarp. “I realize you can’t remember any of it, but—”
Skywarp made a pfft sound. “Stasis lock, big deal. Like I was saying, I kept wondering why. And then you told me that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t let them know I could teleport.”
“I shouldn’t have said—”
“They wanted that tech, didn’t they?” Dawning realization showed on Skywarp’s face. “My warp drive.”
Starscream gave up and nodded. He’d lost this battle too, he supposed, so the only thing seemed left to do was to hope it would be over soon. Skywarp sat down on the bench as though he didn’t have the energy to remain standing any longer.
“I told one of their medics,” he said quietly. “After he repaired my wing flap, he did a quick scan and routine maintenance check, and when he was done he asked me about the internal components he couldn’t recognize. I wish I’d made something up, but I never thought a medic would sell out a patient like that. Did they manage to replicate it?”
Starscream shook his head. Thundercracker had been right; Skywarp hadn’t been at fault for any of that.
“Because they couldn’t access the software,” Skywarp said, “and they didn’t want to risk bringing me back online to get it if they felt sure I’d ‘port out of there. But they thought you could…”
He paused, so Starscream filled in the rest before Skywarp’s imagination could run away with him. “I told them I was searching for you and that I was your wingleader. They assumed that meant you’d obey me without question, so if I ordered you to cooperate, you’d do it. Of course, if that happened, they’d have killed us both once they had what they wanted.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I don’t even want to remember it, Skywarp! Let alone spill all the juicy details for you.”
“I didn’t mean me and TC. I meant all of us.”
All of us? “Oh, that’s even better,” Starscream said. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than for every Seeker to see me at my lowest.”
“It’s not…” Skywarp stopped, his gaze shifting past Starscream to something in the sky. Starscream turned and looked up too, at a speck in the distance that was coming in fast, and as it neared them, the blue paint and red stripes were visible. Well, he supposed, this was all to the good. As soon as Thundercracker rejoined them, they could start the long journey back.
“I told him,” Skywarp said, waving a hand between himself and Starscream to indicate what he meant. “About all this.”
Of course you did, Starscream thought, but he shrugged. Skywarp never kept secrets from his wingmates, and at least that saved Starscream from having to make any more explanations. The distinctive rumble of powerful engines reached his audials, and before long Thundercracker arrowed in on their location, dropped out of the sky, and landed in the courtyard.
“You two okay now?” he asked without preamble.
Skywarp nodded. “But he won’t tell anyone about… you know.”
“I didn’t think he would.” Thundercracker sounded resigned. “Well, if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to.”
“Stop talking about me as though I’m not here!” Starscream said, irritated.
“Sorry, Starscream,” Skywarp said, and got up. “So, what’s the plan now?”
Starscream was still a little annoyed, but the question reminded him that they needed to focus on the practicalities of the immediate future. “We collect whatever we can’t leave behind,” he said. Though that didn’t apply to him, because all he needed from Vos was with him now. “Then we refuel and leave.”
Thundercracker frowned. “How many Seekers is Megatron expecting?”
“He would have been happy to have one,” Starscream growled. He dreaded having to report this failure to Megatron. “He should be grateful he’s getting three times as many.”
“Did you tell him?” Skywarp asked.
“About what?”
“About what they did to you in Altihex.”
“In where?” Starscream asked pointedly.
“Altihex. It’s that city nearly two hundred mechanomiles from—”
“I know where it is!” Starscream snapped. What had he ever done to end up with a wingmate like this? Did the universe hate him?
Thundercracker rubbed his upper lip in a transparent attempt at hiding a smile. “You should know better than to play stupid with him,” he said to Starscream.
“Yeah, he’d win with experience,” Starscream said in his most scathing tone.
“And don’t you ever forget it,” Skywarp agreed. “So, did you tell Megatron?”
Starscream gave in again. Besides, as secrets went, this one wasn’t painful to recall. “He could tell,” he said. “There was a reason I needed repairs. Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. He questioned me incessantly, and it wasn’t like I could slip out when he was looking the other way.”
Suddenly Thundercracker didn’t look in the least amused. “Because he kept you locked up?”
“That, and I couldn’t fly.”
“You couldn’t fly?”
“Someone’s coming,” Skywarp said, looking back in the direction of Vos.
The three Seekers in the distance were far enough that Starscream couldn’t make out their colors, but a moment later a ping came through on his comm. “You guys there?” It was Ramjet. “We need to talk before you leave.”
Before you leave, not before we leave. But at least Ramjet and his wingmates could be trusted, so Starscream transmitted their coordinates, and moments later, engines roared overhead as the three of them came in to land, raising a cloud of dust from the ground. Smoke drifted from their heated turbines.
“Primus,” Thrust said, staring at the split in Starscream's instrumentation canopy. “What happened to you?”
Starscream glared back. “Is that what you came to talk about?”
Ramjet exhaled audibly through his vents. “Thrust,” he said to his wingmate, “Starscream is clearly very sensitive. Try not to upset his fragile emotional equilibrium any further.”
Starscream was only surprised that steam didn’t hiss from between the plates of his armor, but any reply he could make for now would just confirm what Ramjet had said, so he clamped his mouth shut. Ramjet paused, obviously waiting to see whether Starscream would rise to the bait, but when that didn’t happen, he got down to business.
“I thought you guys might want to know.” He looked around at the three of them. “Warhawk is working in public safety now, and Blacktalon’s got a cushy job in the communications bureau.”
“What?” Skywarp looked incredulous—as anyone would, Starscream thought, because Seekers simply weren’t considered suitable for any work other than recon and patrols. They certainly never got positions in any sector of the Vosian government, employment with solid steady pay that they would never need to risk their lives to earn. But at once it was obvious how that had happened.
“Aquiline was collaborating with Farsight, wasn’t he?” he said.
Ramjet nodded. “And word in the sky is that there’s an even better reward for him. From now on, he’s going to be our leader.”
Our leader? Starscream thought. A few times in the past, the Seekers had discussed electing someone who could represent them and look out for their best interests... and each time, something happened to sabotage such efforts, usually by potential leaders being discredited in some way. Or being sent on assignments which took them far outside Vos.
“The Presidium, who else?” Dirge looked even more morose than usual.
Thrust nodded. “Yeah, none of us want him in charge. Even Starscream would do a better job there.”
Starscream could tell when he was being deliberately needled, not that that made it any easier to ignore. But he did so now, because there was a far more important matter to deal with. “What are you going to do about this?” he asked.
Ramjet shrugged. “Not sure yet. But if you want to teach Aquiline a lesson before you leave, we’ll help in any way we can.”
So that was why they were here. It wasn’t because of friendship, it was to see if he could take their new overseer down a notch. But Starscream pushed the momentary resentment aside, because he couldn’t afford to indulge that either. Instead, he considered everything Ramjet had just told him.
His first thought was that none of that was his problem. The other Seekers had turned on him en masse—he would never forget the shouts and accusations coming at him from all sides—so now they could get a taste of life under their new leader. But he had to admit that no one deserved to have Aquiline as their commanding officer, except maybe for his wingmates.
“He’s going to be a pawn of the Presidium,” he said, frowning. “Do his wingmates support that?”
Ramjet grimaced. “Did you ever hear about how he managed to became their wingleader? He sent them both to the repair bay, that’s how. And told them that if they ever questioned his authority, he’d do worse.”
Thundercracker’s expression darkened even further. “What a slagger.”
No wonder he was now trying to give them something to make amends, Starscream thought. Or, more likely, to manipulate them into thinking he actually wasn’t that bad a wingleader. Seekers were warbuild, but that didn’t mean it was in the least normal for them to harm their own kind, and especially not for self-advancement.
A slow fury unfolded in him, hot as though he’d swallowed an ember. Everything he’d gone through had happened because he’d refused to sell out his wingmate, and yet he was being all but exiled, leaving Vos with nothing. Whereas Aquiline had once beaten both his wingmates so badly they’d needed repairs, but he was being rewarded with power and authority—even as a puppet ruler, he’d still have those. How was that fair? How was any of it fair?
No, he thought. I’m not going to let that happen. Maybe there’d be no way out of this, maybe whatever he tried would fail, but he didn’t have lot more left to lose, did he? He’d never let the apparent hopelessness of a situation stop him before, and whatever he tried, it would be better than doing nothing.
And he wanted some payback. Not so much from Aquiline; he was a tool, and Starscream suspected Aquiline’s own wingmates might deal with him if they were given an advantage to work with. No, it was Farsight who Starscream wanted to see defeated. Farsight had orchestrated this, and he represented everything in Vos that kept Seekers suppressed and divided, second-class citizens at best. The heat spread out through Starscream’s frame, tingling down to the tips of his fingers, but his mind was sharp and clear as a shard of glass.
“I have an idea,” he said.
“Yeah?” Ramjet said, clearly waiting to hear it.
Starscream had almost forgotten that Ramjet and his trine were still there. For a moment he thought of telling them they could leave, but reality intruded. This was something he couldn’t do alone. Although he rarely asked for help even from those he trusted, if there was any time to make an exception, the time was now. A good thing they were so far from Vos, because at least they didn’t need to be concerned about hidden listening devices here.
Megatron didn’t move. He had no intention at all of surrendering, mostly because there was nothing to stop Vantage from killing them all if he did so, but also because he had never surrendered in his life. But what was he going to do now?
Stall them. “I have a counter-offer for you,” he said, mind racing as he tried to find a way out of this. “Let him go and we’ll leave. You can keep your Seeker. I’ll even—”
“Frag that,” Starscream managed to gasp. The guard who’d taken him down had pulled one arm behind him, as much as possible with a wing in the way, and now the guard wrenched his arm back further. Starscream’s face twisted in pain, but he went on. “I’m not leaving him again.”
“Fine, keep them both,” Megatron said dismissively. He kept his attention on Vantage and the guards, but he was very aware of his surroundings. The catacomb had clearly been designed as a burial site for the nobility, with carved columns on either side and alcoves in the walls for tombs. Perhaps half of the alcoves also sported statues of the mechs buried in them, but others were empty—except for one, in which Megatron caught a glimpse of what looked like long guns with barrels painted white, tossed to the floor of the alcove as though they’d been discarded there. Though all of the alcoves and columns could provide hiding places for a mech of Ravage’s size, which was why he was nowhere in sight. Ready to act when the time was right, Megatron knew.
Vantage took a step back. “Order your forces in Polyhex to stand down,” he said. “Then you can leave.”
“Call off what’s left of your army and I will,” Megatron said. The guard retreated a little as well, dragging Starscream with him as he did so. For a klik Megatron wondered whether they were trying to get a better aim at him somehow, but their weapons didn’t capable of the sheer firepower it would take to destroy him before he could retaliate. He took a pace forward. The medical berth was between him and Vantage, and if he could get Skywarp safely behind him, that was one hostage out of the way.
Then he heard a sound at the other end of the passageway that led to the catacombs, what sounded like dozens of hurrying footsteps. There was a muffled shout in the distance, and he knew reinforcements were on the way.
Vantage edged back again, and that time Megatron matched the movement and kept pacing forward. He was only a few mechanometers from the berth now. “You can’t win,” Vantage said, continuing to retreat. “You won’t even survive, and once they take you down, I’ll have your head on a stake. So do as I say!”
In his peripheral vision, Megatron dared another glance at the berth, wondering how long it would take for Skywarp to come back online once the machines were disconnected. He wasn’t sure if he could make it out of there on his own, let alone while towing an unconscious Seeker behind him. And he could only hope that the only thing wrong with that Seeker was the forced stasis, because even the berth looked different from what he was accustomed to. It was easily large enough for a much bigger mech, and the sides extended to the floor rather than consisting of legs and wheels. As if…
As if there’s a lot of specialized internal machinery inside, he’d been about to think. Except that wasn’t it at all, was it? Vantage and his surviving guard were backing away from the berth, trying to bait him into coming closer to it, because of what was inside the berth.
“Explosives,” he said. “That berth is packed with them, isn’t it?” Starscream’s optics widened, though the horror of that realization seemed to have silenced him, and Megatron went on. “So you could kill two of your enemies at—”
Everything happened simultaneously. Vantage’s hand flashed up, aiming a gun at the berth. And in the same moment, Ravage leaped from the top of one of the columns. He landed on Vantage, sending the shot wide. Vantage sprawled on the floor, struggling to keep Ravage’s jaws from his face, and the guard immediately turned his gun on Ravage.
Starscream twisted around and grabbed the guard’s arm with his free hand. The shot streaked over Ravage’s head and he sprang aside. “Get the doors!” Megatron shouted, and Ravage bounded away in that direction.
Megatron bolted forward, closing the distance between himself and the medical berth in astroseconds. He slapped a hand on its surface and vaulted over it, managing to take his weight on his undamaged leg as he landed on its other side. At all costs he had to keep Vantage from detonating the explosives inside the berth, and if the only way to do that was to absorb the gunfire himself, that was what he’d do.
In a blur of speed, Ravage reached the entrance doors. The reinforcements gathered in the passageway saw him and ran forward, but Ravage was faster. One of his flank-mounted missiles whirred through the air at the other mechs, and without pause, he leaped up and hit the controls that closed the double doors from the inside.
Megatron yanked off the leads and cables that connected the offline Seeker to the machines, only too aware that if those were life support rather than a means of forcing Skywarp into continued stasis, he had just doomed the Seeker to death. Still, there was no alternative. Behind him, he heard a rapid shift and clank, and he spun around to face the new threat.
Vantage had transformed into his alt-mode, a light craft hovering well off the floor, and the stub of a gun extruded from his undercarriage. It didn't fire, though. Nothing happened, nothing except for a strange soft thrumming in the air, a sound at the edge of sensory perception. For a klik Megatron felt as though fine sand was sifting over his plating, a cool powdery sensation that made him twitch in reflex. Ignoring it, he lifted his right arm and fired at Vantage.
Or tried to, because his fusion cannon didn't respond. He glanced down at it, startled, but the familiar whir of the weapon charging up was silent. It was as though all the neurocircuitry between his processors and the cannon had just been quietly, instantly severed.
Starscream had wrenched free of the guard's grip and bolted towards the rifle he'd dropped earlier. Now he caught that up, aimed and pulled the trigger. There was a click, but other than that, the rifle was utterly inert. With a grin, the guard raised his hands, and blades snapped out of his wrists like bayonets.
A neutralizing field, Megatron realized. That was what Vantage's gun could do, produce a dead zone where no weapons could fire. The guard lunged at Starscream, blades first.
Starscream spun the rifle around, holding it like a staff and parrying the guard’s strike. The guard was fast, though, and the blades bit into the useless weapon again and again as Starscream gave ground, retreating before the attack. And then there was nowhere he could go, as the guard drove him back against a wall, slammed the rifle aside, and thrust one arm forward in a lethal strike.
Faster than that, Starscream leaped off the floor in a roar of turbines. His arm meeting no resistance made the guard stumble forward a step, and Starscream crashed down on him. Well done, Megatron thought and turned back around.
He slid an arm around Skywarp’s waist and pulled him off the berth, keeping his own body between Vantage and the inert Seeker. Vantage fired again and again—of course, his own weaponry wasn’t affected by his neutralizing field—but although he had never been designed for war and didn’t have the sort of firepower Megatron did, he had an easy target. Megatron dragged Skywarp away from the berth, clenching his jaws against the pain as shot after shot struck the plating over his back and shoulders. For a klik he thought of dropping the deadweight of the Seeker so he could defend himself.
Then he heard a sudden indrawn breath, and he glanced down to see Skywarp’s frame twitch in his grasp.
A surge of renewed strength pumped though his circuits and he continued to haul Skywarp away from the berth. There was a scrabbling sound as Skywarp tried to get his feet under him, but anyone coming back online from long stasis would be disoriented at best, and Megatron didn’t expect—
There was a sudden whine and clank of transformation behind him, and he dropped Skywarp unceremoniously on the floor as he tried to turn. But the damage he’d taken slowed him, and a wire fell down past his helm. Instinctively he dropped his head, chin jammed against the base of his throat. The razor wire that would have sawed through his neck bit into his lower jaw instead.
Megatron spun around, or tried to. His damaged knee nearly gave way, and Vantage clung on, twisting the wire harder. It was burning hot, a line of fire sinking deep into Megatron’s face.
There was a violent crash of pulverized metal. Vantage howled, and Megatron felt the vibrations of the impact through his own plating, but the edge of the razor wire was suddenly gone. He spun on his heel. Vantage had already leaped back, the shoulder-mounted gun crumpled from where Starscream had smashed the butt of his rifle into it, but that had brought Starscream too close. The neutralizing field died in the next klik. Vantage pulled a gun and fired.
The shell hit Starscream at point-blank range, and exploded against the side of his chest. He staggered back, optics wide and blank with shock. Vantage swung the gun around to aim at Megatron, but Ravage leaped at him, teeth sinking into his arm and holding him open for the instant that Megatron needed to drive a fist into his face. Metal crumpled inward from the punch. Ravage leaped aside as, one-handed, Megatron picked Vantage off the floor and threw him across the floor.
He slammed into the side of the berth, slid down and landed in a heap, dazed but still conscious. Megatron's cannon finished charging up. Across the catacomb from him, the doors finally gave way from the pounding against them, but Vantage was between the reinforcements and Megatron. In the instant that they hesitated, Megatron raised his arm and fired.
He had one last glimpse of the terror on Vantage's face as the chief minister realized what was going to happen. Then the berth exploded in a brilliant nova of heat that hit Megatron like something solid. He reeled back, his optics shutting down automatically from the intensity of the blast. His plating was so hot that even over the ringing in his audials, he heard liquid from the fissure in his jaw sizzle as it dripped on his armor.
But none of that mattered. His vision was full of smoke and blurred shapes, but he remembered where he’d seen the guns, and he made his halting way to that alcove. As he caught the weapons up, something cracked overhead. He didn't need to look up to know that the great vaulted roof of the catacomb was giving way thanks to damage from the blast.
Then his optical system recovered enough to give him a semblance of sight, and Starscream's body was only a few mechanometers away. Megatron managed to reach him and dropped to his knees, wincing at the pain of doing so. Though that seemed nothing compared to the damage Starscream had sustained. One of his air inlets was gone, and ruined internal circuitry showed beyond the edges of broken, blackened metal. Megatron had no idea what internal components had been damaged or even destroyed by the blast. He only knew that Starscream would never leave the catacomb under his own power.
There was another way out, though, and he turned to Skywarp, who had stumbled to his side. “Get him out of here!”
“And go where?” Skywarp's optics were bright with panic.
Of course, he'd been kept in stasis all this time, and he had no idea where to turn to now. “Polyhex. You know where that is?”
“Yeah.” Skywarp knelt beside Starscream, leaning over a little to stretch one arm across him.
“Just get there and any mechs who see him will help!” With an effort, Megatron looked away from the damage to Starscream's chest, but the sight of his face was little better. Starscream's optics were dimmed, flickering weakly, and suddenly they were lost in darkness, as all the lights in the catacomb went out at once. “Then come back for—”
There was a pale purple flash that looked even more brilliant in the dark. Megatron threw himself down at once. Gunfire roared as mechs fired at the sudden flare, but the shots missed Megatron and the light was gone at once. He wanted to crawl away from the spot and take shelter behind a column, but if Skywarp returned and couldn't find him...
Soundwave, he thought, and sent a ping over the comm channel used by the Decepticon High Command. There was no reply, though, which didn’t surprise him. The automated security measures in the Altihex council chambers were probably still in effect, and those would include a complete block on radio transmissions.
Near the doors, a voice shouted an order to retreat. Lying face-down, Megatron stayed still, because the order might well be intended to trick him into moving and alerting them to his position. The next sound he heard, though, was the creak of overstressed metal overhead. The columns holding up the ceiling had been weakened by the blast, he knew at once, and the entire structure was close to—
Gunfire roared again, but this time he felt no searing heat as trails of fire streaked above him. The impact was with the ceiling instead. Shrapnel rained down on him, and the entire catacomb shook to its foundations.
Something touched his arm and he jerked away before he saw the dulled glow of slitted red optics and realized it was Ravage. Ravage, who never let anyone except Soundwave touch him, pressed against Megatron, trembling. He disciplined his voice to calmness and spoke quietly.
“If they reach us,” he said, “they won't take us alive. Do you understand?”
There was the briefest pause before the comm channel snapped open and Ravage whispered, “Yes.” He was clearly near collapse from exhaustion, not to mention the effects of the heat, but he was a Decepticon to the end. “Yes, Megatron.”
Ravage deserved much better than that, but after a glimpse of the sort of torture the authorities in Altihex could mete out, Megatron was prepared to give them both a far quicker and less painful end. And there was no way to know if Skywarp had even reached Polyhex, let alone whether he would return for them. In a city under attack, Decepticons were likely to fire first and ask questions later, especially when it came to a mech suddenly materializing in their midst.
And, of course, if Polyhex had fallen, both Seekers were probably dead by now.
The crack overhead sounded as though a battering-ram had slammed down against the ceiling. Megatron’s cannon charged up for the final time, because even a roof collapse might only send him offline so he could be dug out by his enemies later. After he fired, they could put whatever was left of his head on a stake, but he doubted anyone would recognize it.
Part of the ceiling crashed down nearby, making him jolt. This is it, then, he thought, and lifted his arm.
Light flashed brightly purple near him. Skywarp glanced around as though he was disoriented, but Megatron surged up from the floor with the last of his strength, and Skywarp turned towards him. He grabbed Megatron’s outstretched hand. Ravage leaped up and transformed, landing in Megatron’s other hand, and Skywarp teleported.
The world became a kaleidoscope. It whirled around Megatron, so fast that all he saw was a dazzling blur. All his internal components felt as though they’d been wrenched out of his frame, an oddly painless but terrifying sensation that left him hollow, and a cold glittering wind flew through the emptiness inside him. The gale sent him tumbling in its wake, until he slammed into the ground.
The ground was mercifully solid. Megatron clutched at it in case the teleportation snatched him away again, but when he saw Skywarp slumped beside him, he knew that wouldn’t be happening again.
Except they weren’t in Polyhex. He pushed himself up, his arms shaking a little as exhaustion began to catch up with him. Around them was bare ground marked by nothing but the treads of vehicles, an empty and endless stretch in every direction.
“What happened?” he asked, though he guessed they were in the wasteland miles outside Polyhex.
Skywarp lifted his head wearily, his optics so dim they were nearly offline. “Ran out of…”
He didn’t finish that, but he didn’t need to. Teleportation probably consumed a lot of energy, Megatron realized, and if Skywarp had been kept in stasis all that time, there would have been no reason for anyone to top up his fuel level. That he’d managed to save their lives was enough, but the question for now was whether the Decepticons would reach them before any of the Altihex militia did. He sent a ping to Soundwave. Ravage transformed and stood on rigid legs, tail-antenna swiveling, optics searching the sky.
But the channel opened, and Megatron had never been more relieved to hear his communications officer’s steady, emotionless voice. “All Decepticons outside Polyhex alerted to your location,” Soundwave said. “Airachnid replies : en route.”
“Good.” Megatron felt too tired to fight any other enemies off, but wait… how many Decepticons were outside Polyhex, and why? “The battle?”
Shockwave joined the command channel. “Polyhex stands, sir,” he said. “The survivors of the Altihex militia have retreated. We are now securing the walls and the area immediately surrounding the city.”
“Well done.” He knew better than to ask if Starscream was safe, because both his lieutenants had far more important priorities, and in any event, he had no intention of giving anyone the impression that some prisoner was so important to him. Besides, he would find out soon enough.
And then what? But he’d deal with that matter if and when it happened. For now, the most important thing was to return to Polyhex—his audials picked up the distant thrum of rotor blades in the distance, and he guessed it was Airachnid—then after that, see to rebuilding the city before any opportunists decided to take advantage of the battle’s effects.
Dreadnaught snarled and raised his rifle, arms steadying to aim, but the Seeker didn’t move. “Back off or he dies!” he snapped.
Megatron’s comm was offline—at times like that, his systems prioritized what to repair, and communications were far back in the queue—so he couldn’t tell Dreadnaught to stand down even though the tip of the gun jammed tight against his throat was hot with growing charge. But with a swift glance at him, Dreadnaught finally lowered the rifle. The Seeker didn’t drop his arm, but his optics flicked back to Megatron.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice low and hard.
“Starscream isn’t with us—” Megatron began.
“Don’t waste my time.” The Seeker ground the gun in a little deeper, and Megatron fought not to wince. “A month ago I crossed flight paths with a mech leaving Altihex, and when I questioned him he told me that Starscream had been given to one of the Decepticons, some thuggish mech with silver armor and a purple emblem on his chest. Would that be you?”
Thuggish? “It would,” Megatron said evenly. In his peripheral vision, he saw Hornet had rolled over, fingers scrabbling against the ground. “And Starscream isn’t with us because he’s in our city.”
“As your prisoner or your slave?”
“He’s too useful to imprison and he’d make a terrible slave.”
Red optics narrowed. “So you gave him his freedom?”
“Yes,” Megatron said. Ravage was up now. The burning points of his optics retreated into the darkness until they were all but lost in it, as he put a short distance between himself and Megatron.
The Seeker’s lip curled. “Is that why you call yourself a Decepticon, because you can’t stop lying? If Starscream was free, he’d be in contact with me.”
“His comm was removed in Altihex and it hasn’t been replaced yet,” Megatron said, wishing he’d had that done so he could comm Starscream to find out who in the Pit this Seeker was. “I realize you don’t believe me and that’s understandable. Anyone can say anything.”
The Seeker’s optics flashed a blink and Megatron noted with some satisfaction that Starscream’s favorite phrase hadn’t gone unnoticed. In the same calm tone, he continued. “But if it convinces you, I can—”
Ravage bolted out of the darkness, faster than thought, and leaped. Teeth sank into the Seeker’s arm, and with a gasp of pain the Seeker swung to face this new threat. His other arm came around, the barrel of the gun glowing, but Megatron had been waiting for that, and he twisted hard, slamming an arm into the Seeker’s shin as he did so and putting paid to his balance. The Seeker reeled, and Megatron struggled free, fusion cannon already charging up. Ravage sprang away to get clear as the Seeker aimed both guns at Megatron, but Megatron met them at cannonpoint.
“Stand down,” he said bluntly. Dreadnaught had his rifle aimed at the Seeker too, but Megatron didn’t want him dead. “You might or might not kill me if you fire, but no one survives this at point-blank range.” He hefted his cannon a little higher to emphasize the words. “And I’d prefer we deal with our common enemy together rather than fight each other.”
The Seeker didn’t move. “If we have a common enemy, why isn’t Starscream here with you?”
“He was too badly damaged in Altihex, that’s why. Skywarp wouldn’t have given them access to the software needed to use teleportation technology, so they tried to make Starscream persuade him to do it.”
Once again that flicker went through the Seeker’s expression, but this time he lowered one arm slowly. “Where in that city is Skywarp being held?”
“The chief minister will know. He ordered an army to attack my city, and I intend to make certain everyone sees the consequences of lifting a hand against the Decepticons. If we happen to come across another imprisoned Seeker there, and if he joins us rather than shoving a gun in my face, well, that’s all to the good.”
The Seeker lowered his other arm. It glistened with a slick of fluid where Ravage had bitten him, but the breaks in the blue armor didn’t seem to be oozing any longer, and if the damage hurt, the Seeker gave no sign of that. “I’m Thundercracker,” he said, clearly making the first cautious step towards common ground. “And if it’s just the four of you, you’ll need more of a distraction to get in. I can hit the city wall from the north and draw them in that direction. That should give you a chance to enter from the south.”
Megatron almost asked how Thundercracker planned to do that alone, because his guns alone would never be enough, even if he was as fast as Starscream. Then he remembered what had happened when Thundercracker had swooped low over them, and the massive shock that had dropped them all, pulverizing glass and eclipsing other sounds with its intensity. That was more than adequate, as distractions went.
But he had to be sure they could rely on this Seeker. “You’re a friend of Starscream’s?” he asked.
“His wingmate.”
His wingmate? Megatron had thought that was Skywarp, but this Seeker was a wingmate too? Was it a love triangle or did Starscream have a harem waiting for him in Vos?
“And you’ll be fighting them alone?” he asked, trying to shake off the speculative thoughts that he really couldn’t afford to entertain now.
“There are a few other Seekers nearby,” Thundercracker said. More of Starscream’s lovers, Megatron supposed. “We’ve been patrolling this area in the hopes that we’d find any sign of Starscream, so when I saw that explosion, I came to investigate.”
“All right, go ahead,” Megatron said, because now that they had crashed outside the walls of Altihex, he would need all the help he could get to stop Vantage. “Oh, one last thing. Do you know for certain that Skywarp is still alive?”
Thundercracker nodded.
“How?”
“Trine bond.”
Megatron didn’t understand that, but there was no time to ask more questions. “Good luck,” Thundercracker said, then transformed and sped away.
***
Shockwave watched the siege unfold on half a dozen screens.
The images moved with all the blurred speed of events on a battlefield, changing rapidly—especially since only three of the screens were for dedicated observation of fixed positions. The others changed as necessary, and two of those were linked to transmitters implanted in ‘copters who were as much observers as they were fighters. Shockwave watched it all, directing reinforcements here, ordering a controlled retreat there, taking in reports from mechs arriving in the command center, responding to urgent comms sent personally to him.
Soundwave was monitoring too, but his connection with the Decepticons was deeper and quieter, linked as he was with cables that joined him to the Darkmount mainframe. He listened to the Altihex communications as well, turning occasionally to notify Shockwave of what he’d learned, but he’d sent his cassettes out into the city. That wasn’t a good sign, Shockwave knew. At best, it meant the battle was balanced on a knife edge, such that Soundwave needed their optics and audials at the forefront, at ground zero. Shockwave refused to consider what the worst-case scenario might be, because he didn’t give in to fatalistic imaginings at any time. Least of all now, when cool heads were most needed.
The fighting had spilled from the breach in the walls to the streets. Shockwave watched as Steelbane closed with one of his enemies, struck the barrel of a rifle aside and slapped a hand flat against the other mech’s chestplate. His ability acted instantly, turning the armor under his palm into a vast spread of rust that fell in a cloud of red-brown flakes as he pulled away. Staggering back, the other mech stared down at the internal components and circuitry now exposed in a chest flayed bare, and before he could recover from the shock, a gunshot took him down. But there were more of them behind him, outnumbering the Decepticon forces, and in the next klik they swarmed over Steelbane. Shockwave ordered more reserves to that sector of the city, and made it clear their first priority was to stem the influx of Altihex militia.
“Commander,” Shortfuse said. “The gates.”
Shockwave glanced at another screen, then nodded. “Fall back.”
Soundwave relayed the order, and the Decepticons stationed at the gates began a retreat. The explosions just outside had splattered fire against the gates, but suddenly they stopped. Equally fast, a massive spray of liquid nitrogen hit them. And Shockwave, who never showed any external reaction to bad news, winced. He knew exactly what that would do to metal—leave it brittle and easily damaged—
The gates splintered as if hit by a battering-ram. Which might well have happened, since Shockwave could barely see through the masses of smoke and steam. He had a glimpse of rushing movement, of headlights and gunshots glowing through the clouds of dust as assault vehicles thundered into Polyhex. With the chaff being laid down in the sky above the militia camp, foiling their anti-aircraft armaments, they had all the more reason—not that they needed any—to seize what was an opportunity and an escape route at once.
“Commander…” Shortfuse said again, tension vibrating in her tone.
“Let a few more of them in,” Shockwave said, the fingers of his true hand gripping the edge of his workstation as he leaned forward. “Soundwave?”
“Air support : ready.”
Now, Shockwave thought. “Spread out the welcome mat.”
“Yes, sir,” Shortfuse said with a grin, and entered a command into her terminal. The screen Shockwave was watching flared white. The massive quantities of explosives buried just inside the gates detonated in a blast so intense that the camera burned out in the next klik and the screen turned black. Not that Shockwave needed to see the conflagration before the gates to know what it was like, as red-hot shrapnel rained down and Decepticons stationed in the cover of the nearby buildings began to fire on those of the Altihex militia who had survived but were now separated from the rest of their army by a smoking chasm.
“Welcome to Polyhex,” he said softly.
A ping on his comm from Megatron made him straighten. “Yes, sir?”
Megatron wasted no time. “We were shot down perhaps ten mechanomiles outside the gates of Altihex, and we’ll need reinforcements.”
Shockwave knew the plan had been for the shuttle to be flown to the council chambers of Altihex, where the crash would give Megatron a chance to seize Vantage and force him to recall his army. This was a setback, but it couldn’t shake his faith in Megatron. “Of course, sir. How many of our air support do you need?”
“Only one.”
Shockwave’s spirits sank. “The Seeker?”
“If there’s anyone else who can fly high enough to evade their defenses and who can reach us in the next few breems, they can accompany him,” Megatron said. “Issue him with a weapon and send him out immediately. I doubt he’ll give you any difficulty, but feel free to mention that there must be a storm brewing, because we hear thunder.”
“Yes, sir,” Shockwave said, and Megatron ended the transmission. Shockwave half hoped that Starscream had been shot down somewhere over the militia camp and was now in a thousand small and unidentifiable pieces, but an order to Airachnid to locate him soon had him back in the command center. By then Shockwave knew the Decepticon chopper squadrons, led by Airachnid, were harrying the militia outside the city, but the battle could still go either way and Megatron needed to reach the heart of Altihex.
One mention of the unusual weather over that city, though, and Starscream was ready to leave. Shockwave watched through the cameras as the fighter jet flashed through the sky and was gone. That blinding speed was the only thing that restored a little of Shockwave’s hopes. He didn’t know what would happen in Altihex, but he knew that the delay in reaching the council chambers would only give Vantage more time to prepare a welcome mat of his own.
***
With the Altihex defences diverted by Thundercracker, not to mention dealing with the blazing ruin of the shuttle, it didn’t take long for Megatron to find part of the city wall guarded by a bare handful of mechs. Hornet transformed and rose into the air, though less rapidly than usual, and as they swiveled their wall-mounted guns in her direction, Megatron fired from the shadows below. Chunks of red-hot rubble hadn’t even hit the ground before Dreadnaught flung a chain ladder over an intact section of the wall nearby, and with the defenders dealt with, no one hindered them as they climbed down into the city.
Relieved that he’d been in Altihex before and knew where to go, Megatron transformed and led the way, though he ordered Hornet back to Polyhex first—or, if she couldn’t reach it, which was more likely, she was to hide and send out a distress call. She’d been airborne when Thundercracker had unleashed that overwhelming ability of his, which meant she’d been closer to him than the other Decepticons and had been more damaged as a result. In any event, Megatron knew they’d be going into the council chambers of Altihex, and no airframe models were at their best in confined spaces.
Being minus a scout might have meant driving straight into an ambush, but Megatron had bargained on Altihex not having time to set such traps, or any warning that they were necessary. Instead, the attacks came head-on, as the Altihex reserves first spotted them and then began to converge on them. Megatron fired back, swung sharply to one side to avoid another fusillade—crashing through the girders of a building under construction as he did so—and put on a final burst of speed as the roofs of the council chambers came into sight. Behind him, Dreadnaught snarled, guns spitting white-hot plasma bursts; sealed safely inside his passenger compartment, Ravage did the only thing he could under the circumstances and reported to Soundwave, sending all he saw and heard over that one last link between them and their home city.
So if they died, at least Soundwave would know. And Megatron wasn’t certain they’d reach the council chambers, let alone Vantage. The solid strength of his armor could outlast any amount of conventional weaponry, but the heat of absorbed gunfire was starting to exhaust him, and there were just so many of the Altihex defenders. No sooner did one fall than three more took his place. And through the dust ahead, the choking clouds that filled the road leading to the nexus of Altihex, he saw a barricade had been set up, dozens of optics glowing behind it, guns primed to—
The explosion came from a direction he didn’t expect, somewhere behind the barrier, and it was followed by another. The Altihex defenders scrambled for cover, shouting incoherently, but one of them was cut down by a shot and crashed in a smoking heap. Startled, Megatron transformed and slid into a doorway in the side of a building before he glanced out.
He tracked the next shot, following its origin to the highest roof of the council chambers. And there was Starscream, firing on the Altihex forces, twisting around for cover behind a sculpture mounted on the roof as the mechs on the street shot at him, then whirling back to deliver another deadly burst of returned fire.
He picked them off with the cool precision of a duelist and the ruthlessness of a Decepticon. The weariness fell away from Megatron as though it had never existed, but then he remembered that all this had happened because of Starscream’s wingmate. Who would probably fly off with Starscream back to Vos as soon as he was rescued.
Doesn’t matter, deal with that later. He took advantage of the distraction Starscream had provided to fire directly on the barricade, then transformed again and drove through the smoking remains of it, wincing a little as the heat began to overcome his ventilation system. Starscream fired for one last time, then subspaced the rifle and pulled something else from a subspace compartment, though Megatron couldn’t see what it was. He dropped it behind the sculpture, then transformed and dove down, somersaulting as his body unfolded and he landed on the uppermost of the steps leading up to the council chambers. Megatron reached them only kliks later, with Dreadnaught close behind. Ravage sprang out at once.
Before they could take the stairs, the roof of the council chamber vanished in a shattering blast. Megatron flung an arm up, partly to bring his cannon up and partly to shield his optics. Starscream waved them impatiently onward, though, so he’d clearly been responsible for that, and Megatron guessed he’d brought a bomb as well as a rifle. The echoes of the explosion were still ringing in Megatron’s audials, so he didn’t try to speak, only reached the outer doors and slammed them open with a shot. Dreadnaught was first in, dropping to a crouch as he scanned the space before them, but any mechs nearby were probably hiding. Megatron flung the doors shut again, but before he could do anything else, Starscream turned to him.
“You met Thundercracker?” he asked.
Megatron nodded, and Starscream’s optics lit up. His smile was full of relief and the eager anticipation of someone finally seeing the end of a long hard journey, and a jolt of bitter jealousy drove through Megatron, twisting inside him. Had Starscream ever smiled at him like that?
“But he told me it’s too late,” he said.
The joy drained out of Starscream’s face. “What…” He tried again. “What does that mean?”
Megatron ordered Dreadnaught to the doors at the other end of the entrance hall, then looked back at Starscream. “Skywarp is dead.”
Starscream’s tense expression didn’t change, but the glow in his optics went out. Suddenly Megatron regretted what he’d just said, but before he could think of some way to take it back, Starscream turned and strode to the other side of the hall. Dreadnaught had nudged a door open and was glancing out, cautious for once. Then he let out a triumphant sound and charged past the doors. Starscream followed at once.
Megatron hurried to catch up, but by the time he reached them, Dreadnaught had already caught what he’d seen, a small, pale-blue mech who’d been hiding in the reception room beyond the doors, and who was now babbling near-incoherent pleas for his life. Holding him with one hand, Dreadnaught slapped him to shut him up and Megatron stared coldly down at him.
“Where’s Vantage?” he demanded.
“Emergency control,” the mech managed to get out. “Twenty-third floor.” He pointed at a corridor lined with elevator doors.
The council chambers weren’t tall enough to accommodate fifteen floors, let alone twenty-three, but Megatron guessed that the more secure floors would be underground. He nodded curtly, and Dreadnaught hit the mech hard enough to knock him offline, then tossed his limp frame aside. Starscream was already at the elevators by then, but when one opened, he hesitated.
“There’s no twenty-third floor,” he said.
It was true, because the numbered buttons stopped at twenty. So Megatron caught the edges of the blank panel just beneath the numbers and wrenched it off the side of the elevator, revealing five more buttons. He pressed twenty-three, then grabbed Starscream’s arm and pulled him out of the elevator.
“They’ll be expecting us to take that route,” he said briefly, in response to Starscream’s startled look. At the other end of the corridor, Dreadnaught called out that he’d found the stairwell, so Megatron jabbed all the other buttons to buy them as much time as possible.
Then he set a breakneck pace down the stairs. He didn’t bother about trying to be quiet until he had nearly reached the twenty-third floor, and then he moved silently to the stairwell door. Air whirred in and out of his vents. He eased the door open a sliver and glanced out.
The stairwell door opened onto a featureless passageway, and at least ten heavily armed mechs were gathered around the elevator doors at the other end of the passageway, their weapons aimed at the doors. Priming his fusion cannon reflexively, he met Dreadnaught’s optics, and tilted his head to indicate which direction they would go. There was no need to say they would have to take on multiple powerful enemies, because that was only to be expected, and Megatron guessed that these mechs, the elite security forces of the Altihex council chambers, would have stationed themselves between him and Vantage. No choice; we have to go through them.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ping, and in the moment the security forces realized they’d been tricked, Megatron hurtled out of the room, firing at once. He unloaded the entire charge of his cannon, then tried to throw himself back into the stairwell—the only way to win this was to keep moving, not making himself a stationary target—but there were too many of them, and a lucky shot smashed into his leg, at the knee-joint where the armor provided less protection. He crashed to the floor just before he could reach the safety of the stairwell.
Dreadnaught bolted in front of him, taking the brunt of the gunshots from the surviving security forces. Glass splintered and wires snapped apart in sparking bursts, but somehow Dreadnaught transformed again, for the final time. He drove straight ahead at the gathered mechs, and when their concentrated fire hit him, the explosion that swallowed him up happened close enough to them that they were thrown aside by the blast. Megatron tried to struggle up and Starscream was beside him, supporting his weight for the moments he needed to fire back at the damaged, disoriented security forces. The roar of combusting fuel tanks choked the corridor with echoes, and the smoke was so thick that Megatron could barely see.
But no one ahead of them was moving any longer. Megatron straightened up, ignoring the pain of his damaged leg, and limped ahead to the double doors at the end of the passageway, kicking aside the greying frames and red-hot pieces of dead machinery in his way. Not even that much was left of Dreadnaught, but that loss would be avenged. His cannon finished charging up again as he reached the doors. Starscream moved to flank them, and Ravage slid soundless as a shadow to Megatron’s side.
He'd expected the doors to be sealed, but when he touched the access panel beside the doors, they drew apart. Tensing, Megatron slid to one side and turned to put his shoulders to the wall beside the doors. There wasn't so much as a gunshot from inside, though, let alone a swarm of mechs surging out to attack.
He edged as close to the doors as he dared, turning his head to catch a glimpse of something, anything, inside. All he saw was darkness. Ravage slunk to the doors as well, and with his entire frame pressed against the floor, he peered in.
A ping came over a secure Decepticon channel, but to Megatron’s surprise, his comm identified the source as Ravage. Normally Ravage communicated through Soundwave or relied on body language and nonverbal sounds, but of course neither was an option now, and Megatron opened the channel.
“It’s a catacomb,” Ravage said without preamble, and Megatron guessed he’d used sonar to gauge what was ahead of them. “Mechs at the other end, about five hundred mechanometers away. Can’t tell how many.”
“Good work,” Megatron replied, and without wasting any more time, he turned and shot out the lights in the corridor so none of them would be silhouetted against that glow, making them easy targets. Before the echoes of the blast had faded, he was at the other side of the doors with Starscream. “Ravage says it’s a catacomb,” he whispered. If Vantage was one of those mechs lying in wait, it was a good place for him; he wouldn’t need to go far at all to be buried. “Some mechs about five hundred mechanometers from us, but he doesn’t know how many. I’ll go in first and—”
“Don’t bother.” Starscream’s optics burned with a furnace light, and something in his hand fizzed as it spat sparks. It was a grenade, Megatron realized, but before he could do anything, Starscream flung it through the open doors.
“What are you—” Megatron began, and Starscream pushed him aside. Not expecting that, he stumbled and caught at the wall for balance. In the next moment there was a deafening blast as the grenade detonated.
It was a flash grenade, and for an instant the world went white. The light was so intense that even though Megatron only saw it in the corners of his optics, his visual field fritzed with stinging pain, and the shattering roar of the explosion seemed even louder as the close quarters of the catacomb concentrated it. But even over that sound, he heard the whir and clank of rapid transformation.
“No!” Suddenly he knew what Starscream meant to do. “Don’t—”
“They killed Skywarp!” Starscream snarled, and took off.
Biting back curses, Megatron transformed as well, tearing into one final burst of speed that sent him through the catacomb doors—literally through one of them, wrenching it from its hinges. The disorienting effect of the grenade was momentary, and the vast subterranean hall was dark again, but the hot glow of Starscream’s engines was only too obvious as he shot overhead, clearly gauging their enemies’ position from the shots they fired at him. None of which connected, of course; he was too fast in flight. But then he swooped down. Megatron’s fuel turned to ice in his lines. It was too dark to see anything and he couldn’t fire blindly for fear of hitting Starscream. What the frag was he—
Bright cold lights snapped on overhead, and Megatron’s treads ground to a halt. In that klik, he saw everything ahead of him. Halfway down the hall, Vantage stood to one side, a hand on a wall-mounted bank of switches—one of which must control the lights, Megatron realized. The two guards near him had rifles drawn, but before they could adjust to the sudden flood of light pouring down, Starscream fired. He had transformed and landed at the far end of the hall, and his shot was deadly accurate, shattering the throat of one of the guards. Slamming another round into the rifle, he aimed again.
And he froze, staring at what was in the center of the hall. It was a large berth, connected by a tangle of cables to what Megatron guessed were medical machines, and on the berth lay a black Seeker with purple detailing on his limbs. He was clearly offline, but just as evidently alive, and Megatron knew at once that this Seeker was Skywarp.
Before Starscream could recover from the shock, the surviving guard struck. He flung up a hand and a length of chain shot out from it. The weighted end wrapped around Starscream’s rifle and the guard wrenched the weapon out of Starscream’s hands. Starscream transformed at once, but the guard fired at him, and the shot struck one of his wings. Starscream’s flight turned to a weaving freefall. He managed to transform again, fighting to land on his feet.
The guard reached him as he did so. With one hand, he pulled Starscream before him like a shield, and shoved the barrel of a pistol against his helm. Vantage smiled with evident relief, and turned towards Megatron.
baratheonpilled
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
