Chapter Text
"You're not gonna believe what happened at the mine," Mark said, breathless with excitement as he slammed the door of his dust-covered pickup truck.
You looked up from your book, curiosity piqued. Mark, your older brother, had a knack for exaggerating, but the urgency in his voice was something new. You put down your phone and stepped outside, squinting against the setting sun that painted the sky a fiery orange. "What's going on?"
"I was working late," Mark began, pacing the gravel driveway, "and I heard this...this weird noise coming from the old mine shaft. It wasn't like anything I've ever heard before—like a mix between an earthquake and a giant robot coming to life."
Your eyebrows shot up. "A giant robot? That's a new one. Did you have a little too much fun with the miners today?" You wiggled your eyebrows.
Mark rolled his eyes, but a smile played at the corners of his lips. "I'm serious! You know that old urban legend about aliens hiding out in Jasper?" Apparently, they were a big thing in Nevada. Though you've never seen one, your brother is insistent on telling you all about them.
Your grin widened, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pfft —You're not saying you found E.T. playing poker with bigfoot, are you? That's fucking hilarious." Mark threw his hands up in exasperation.
"I'm serious! And watch your language, sis. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Your humor didn't waver. "Oh, come on, Mark. You can't expect me to take that seriously. It's like saying you saw Santa in the Sahara."
"Look, I know it sounds crazy," Mark replied, his voice earnest. "But I'm telling you, I saw something. And it wasn't just a noise. There was this...this light, like nothing I've ever seen before. And it was coming from that old, boarded-up shaft."
You couldn't help the smirk that tugged at your lips. "Okay, okay," you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. "If it'll get you to stop talking about it, I'll bite. Let's go check it out." You said without a beat, your mind not even thinking of what dangers could be lurking deep beneath the ground. You both grabbed your flashlights and set off into the desert, the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and the distant hum of the highway.
The old mine shaft stood tall and ominous against the backdrop of the desert, the sun's last rays casting long shadows across the ground.
Let's go have some fun!
Inside the Autobot base, located just beneath the surface of Jasper, Optimus Prime and his team were in a hushed discussion. Bumblebee looked up as the ground trembled faintly, his antennae twitching. "What was that?" he buzzed.
"Unknown," Ratchet responded, his medical bay instruments beeping in the background. "But it's not our doing." The Autobot leader nodded, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Keep a lookout, Bumblebee," he instructed. "We can't risk exposure."
Without missing a beat, Bulkhead spoke up. "I'll go with ya, 'Bee," he said, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber. "Two sets of optics are better than one." Bumblebee nodded his agreement. "Thanks, Bulk," he buzzed, his voice a soft whirr.
The two of them transformed into their vehicle modes with a metallic clang. The yellow scout car revved his engine and sped into the ground bridge that Ratchet had opened for them, which glowed a vibrant green before sealing shut behind them.
Meanwhile, Optimus, Arcee and Ratchet remained in the base, the formers standing guard while the latter monitored the situation.
The three shared a knowing look.
You and your brother approached the mine shaft, your flashlights casting jittery beams of light across the cracked earth. The sun had fully set now, and the desert was a canvas of deep purples and blues.
"You sure you wanna do this?" You asked, your humor fading into a cautious smile. Mark nodded, his excitement morphing into something more akin to resolve. "Yeah, I'm sure. If it's nothing, we'll have a good laugh about it. If it's something..." He trailed off, but his eyes glinted with determination. You took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.
If I die, It's your fault! You smile at him.
"Well, here goes nothing," you said, your voice steady. Before Mark could react, you sprinted towards the mine shaft, your boots kicking up clouds of dust. Mark stared after you, flabbergasted. "Wait!" he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet desert. But you didn't stop. You just waved over your shoulder, your silhouette growing smaller as you disappeared into the inky blackness of the mine.
Shaking his head, Mark took a deep breath and followed you, his boots crunching on the gravel path. The air grew colder and the darkness more oppressive as you both ventured deeper into the shaft. The walls closed in around the both of you, the ceiling a low, jagged arch of rock and dirt. The smell of ancient earth filled their nostrils, and your flashlights danced over the dusty walls, casting eerie shadows that stretched and contorted.
"You okay back there?" You called over your shoulder, your voice echoing down the shaft. "Yeah, yeah," Mark said, his voice shaking slightly. He picked up the pace, not wanting to admit his growing trepidation. The walls of the shaft grew closer, the air colder, and the darkness swallowed them whole. He stumbled, his eyes squeezed shut against the impenetrable blackness.
"Hey, watch it!" Your voice was suddenly right beside him, and he felt a jolt as his chest collided with something firm. He opened his eyes to find himself nose-to-nose with you, who had stopped running and was now holding onto his shoulders with surprising strength. "What the—?" He began, but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. The seriousness in your eyes was like nothing he'd ever seen before. "We need to be quiet," you whispered urgently.
"There's something down here, and it's not just echoes." Your grip tightened on his arm, and Mark felt his heart pound in his chest. He nodded, his eyes widening as you gestured towards a deep pit in the cave ahead, where a faint blue glow emanated from the depths. The light flickered and danced, casting strange patterns on the surrounding rocks. You both approached the pit with caution, your flashlights trembling in your hands. The ground felt unsteady, and the air grew colder, carrying the electric scent of something unearthly. The pit was about ten feet deep, and the glow grew more intense the closer you got.
"I think we should turn off our lights," You murmured, your eyes glued to the mesmerizing blue light. "Just in case..." Mark nodded, his heart racing. He clicked off his flashlight, and the world plunged into darkness, save for the pulsing glow from the pit. You moved closer, the light casting an ethereal hue on your faces. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the hairs on the back of Mark's neck stood on end. He could feel something powerful and ancient stirring below both of you, something that didn't belong in this desolate human world.
As the whirring grew louder, you and your brother realized it wasn't miners they were hearing. The sound was metallic, almost musical in its precision. It was the sound of gears grinding, of machines at work. "What is that?" Mark breathed, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and wonder. You looked at him, your humor gone, and whispered, "It's not miners, Mark. It's something else."
We're so fucked, you thought. Your words barely had time to settle before the ground beneath you shuddered. A deep, mechanical groan filled the air, and the blue light grew blindingly bright. Mark's hand shot up to shield his eyes, and he felt your grip tighten on his arm.
"What the fuck is it then?" he demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and impatience. Your grip grew more insistent. "Doesn't matter," you whispered urgently. "We need to go. Now."
Leave before its too late! The voice in you screamed. But Mark's curiosity had been piqued beyond the point of no return. He leaned over the edge of the pit, peering into the abyss.
"You said you wanted to see what it was, didn't you?" he shot back, a hint of defiance in his voice. Your heart hammered in your chest, the echoes of the mechanical noises below reverberating through your very soul. "I-I know!" you stuttered, the reality of the situation crashing down on you like a ton of bricks.
"But this shit—this is so fucking dangerous! We could die—maybe—I don't know!" The sudden silence was deafening, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two of you. You clung to each other, Your flashlights dimming in the overpowering glow of the blue light. The tension grew so thick that it felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around your throats and squeezing tight.
Then, without warning, the blue light dimmed, and the pit grew darker than the surrounding shadows. A metallic clank echoed up from below, and something began to ascend. Your grip tightened until Mark's fingers turned white, your nails digging into his skin. He tried to pull away, his heart racing faster than it ever had before, but you were not going to let go.
The clanking grew louder, closer, until it seemed like a metal giant was walking towards you, each step shaking the very earth beneath your boots. Dust rained down from the ceiling of the shaft, and Mark could feel the vibrations in his teeth. He squinted into the gloom, his eyes searching for the source of the noise. Your grip on his arm tightened until it was painful.
"There," you whispered, your voice hoarse with fear. Mark followed your gaze to a narrow crack in the stone wall, just wide enough to squeeze through. Without a word, you both dashed into the crevice, your flashlights bobbing as you tried to keep them steady. The rock was cold and damp, and the smell of ancient earth was thick in your nostrils.
That's fucking disgusting.. You almost want to throw up. "Ughr... gross," You murmured, your voice muffled as you pulled a handful of dust out of your mouth. Mark couldn't help but smirk in the darkness despite the situation.
The sudden silence was pierced by a voice, a sound that didn't quite belong in the dusty confines of the mine shaft. It was a voice, scratchy and mechanical, yet filled with something akin to excitement. "Ah, finally," it said, "some energon."
The both of you slowly turned to look at each other, your eyes wide with shock. "Mark," You whispered, your voice barely a breath. "What. The. Fuck. is that?" Mark swallowed hard, his mind racing with the impossibilities of you were hearing. "I-I don't know?!" he stuttered, his voice cracking. "Does it look like I go through this at the mines every day?"
The voice grew louder, the clanking of metal feet on the stone floor of the shaft resonating through their bodies. Yep, fucked.
"The Autobots have been hiding it all along," it continued, "but not anymore. With this power, I will show them who truly reigns supreme!" You and Mark exchanged panicked looks, your breaths coming in quick gasps.
"What do we do?" Mark hissed. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just stay calm," you murmured. "We don't know what we're dealing with." The voice grew silent, and the clanking stopped.
"Hm? Who goes there?!" it boomed out raspingly, the echo bouncing off the cave walls. "Show yourself! Before I blast your processor!" You and Mark froze in your tracks, your hearts pounding in unison. The creature's words were jarring, a stark contrast to the quiet whispers of your own panic.
In the dim light of your flashlights, you watched as two glowing orbs emerged from the shadows, floating menacingly towards the crack you had hidden in. The mechanical alien, as you dubbed it in your racing thoughts, aimed its arm-mounted weaponry blindly at the walls of the cave.
Does this thing know it even exists?!
"Don't move," Mark murmured, his voice a mere breath. You nodded, your eyes glued to the terrifying sight. The creature's silhouette was massive, with sharp angles and a deep, foreboding aura that seemed to suck the very air from the room.
Its kinda.. stupid. For a robot, at least, you thought. The creature's eyes narrowed, and it took a step back. "Tch," it spat out, a sound that was as much a click as it was a curse. You and your sibling watched, your hearts in your throats, as the monster bent down and picked up a glowing shard of blue. The light from the shard reflected off its metal body, casting an eerie glow over the cave.
"Must be those pesky organic critters," it murmured, turning the shard over in its metallic hands. "Always poking their biological snouts where they don't belong." You and Mark held your breaths, your hearts thudding like bass drums in the quiet cavern. The creature's gaze swept over the shadows, pausing briefly at the crack in the wall where they were hiding.
"Come out," it demanded, the mechanical rasp sending chills down their spines. "You're not going anywhere." You both exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Fear painted Mark's features, but in your eyes, there was a flicker of something else—determination.
You took a deep breath and whispered, "We need to distract it." "How?" Mark's voice was barely audible, his eyes wide with terror. Think. Come on, think! Your mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmare. "We've got to split up," you murmured, your voice shaky yet determined. "You go back and get help. I'll distract it." Mark's eyes widened in horror.
"Are you fucking insane? You'll die!" Your humor was nowhere to be found now. You were dead serious, your eyes hard as you met your brother's gaze. "Maybe," you whispered. "But if you run now, you might just make it. And you can get help. Maybe the military, maybe those Autobutts you're always talking about. Just go!" You ushered him.
Or if I don't live to tell the tale, at least you can, bro!
"You've got to be stupid," Mark hissed back, his voice tight with fear. "I'm not leaving you here with... with whatever the hell that is!" But your mind was made up. You gave your brother a firm push, whispering, "Go, Mark. I'll be okay." You tried to force a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
Tricks? More like ticks. I'm definitely getting fucked. And not in the good way. You mentally curse yourself.
Mark's eyes searched yours, the fear and disbelief evident in his gaze. He didn't move, not at first, but when the creature took another step closer, its red optics sweeping the area with a predatory grace, he knew he had no choice. He took one last look at you, then turned and sprinted back the way you both came, his boots thudding against the rocky ground.
You watched him go, your heart went badump! each fourth of a second. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands. The creature hadn't noticed you yet—it was too busy watching Mark retreat. You knew you had to act fast. With a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening, you leaped out of the crack in the wall, your flashlight beam bouncing crazily around the cave.
Its showtime, bitch! You mentally prepared yourself.
"Hey! Big guy!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the stone walls. You waved frantically, shining your flashlight directly into the creature's optics. It was like staring into the sun, and you hoped the alien felt the same way. "You're kind of blocking the view!" The creature staggered backward, momentarily blinded by the sudden assault of light. Its hand shot up to shield its face, the shard of energon clattering to the ground. It roared, the sound reverberating through the mine shaft and sending a shiver down your spine.
Was that really the best idea?
"You irritating human!" it bellowed, the voice now distinctly angry and definitely not happy with the intrusion. "Get that out of my face, now!"
I'm gonna take that as a yes! You cheered.
You smirked, mentally noting that your plan was kind of working. You kept the light trained on the creature, watching as its hand reached up to swipe at the beam. "Well, if I do that, I won't be able to see the cave behind you!" you yelled back, your voice a mix of bravado and sarcasm. The creature paused, its mechanical eyes narrowing to slits. "What are you playing at, human?" it demanded, its deep voice resonating through the cavern. You shrugged, your smirk growing bolder despite the fear that gripped you. "Just enjoying the show," you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your hand.
"I mean, how often does one get to see a giant robot in a mine, right?" The creature snarled, its metallic jaws clanking together with the force of its anger. "You will regret your curiosity," it said, taking a menacing step forward. The ground trembled beneath its weight, sending a fresh shower of dust and pebbles down onto you. You coughed, your eyes watering, but didn't flinch.
Shit, shit, shit, shit! You chanted mentally, your heart hammering in your chest. Your hand, however, remained steady, the flashlight beam a beacon of defiance in the face of the robot-alien monster.
"You know," you said, trying to keep your voice from shaking, "I've heard of those robot aliens before. They're supposed to be friendly, right? Why don't you tell me your name, and we can talk about this?" You say, eager to get out of this situation.
The creature paused, the glow from its chest dimming slightly. "You know of my kind?" it asked, its voice now curious.
You snort. Nope, not a clue. I'm completely unaware!
You took a shallow breath, trying not to gulp. Keep it cool, you told yourself, don't let it see that you're scared shitless. "Yeah, sure," you said, your voice surprisingly steady.
"My brother's a fan. Autofarts and Decepti- uh... Decepticums, right?" The creature's annoyance was palpable, and you felt a flicker of satisfaction at the knowledge that you'd hit a nerve.
"Decepti- cons" it corrected with a low growl. "And I am not one of those pitiful Autobots. I am Starscream!"
... Star's cream? What an odd name!
Your eyes widened at the revelation. "Ah, so you're the cream of the crop, then?" you quipped, your heart racing. Starscream's gaze flickered, and you swore you saw a hint of amusement in the red depths of his optics. "The... the crème de la crème?" you added, hoping to keep the conversation light.
Nice fucking going! Its not going to let you live after that one. You cry mentally.
The Decepticon paused, tilting his head in a way that sent more dust raining down from the ceiling. "I suppose you could say that," he replied, his tone slightly less menacing. "Though, I must admit, I'm not used to humans with a sense of humor."
Or maybe it will. Maybe I'm funny to extraterrestrials.
You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "Well, we're a crazy bunch," you said, your eyes flicking back and forth between Starscream and the spot where Mark had disappeared. You hoped with every fiber of your being that he was running fast, that he'd find help.
Come on Mark, hurry up! I don't know how much longer I can do this for!
"So, um, what's that blue thing you had?" you asked, your voice casual despite the pounding in your chest. You gestured towards the glowing shard on the ground with the tip of your flashlight.
Starscream's gaze followed the beam, and his expression grew thoughtful. "Ah, that," he said with a sneer. "That's what you should be worried about, human. That's a piece of energon, the lifeblood of my kind. It's what fuels us, gives us power." Ooh, fancy. Though, you had other plans. You raised an eyebrow.
"Well, that's cool and all," you said, trying to keep your voice light, "but can I eat it?" Starscream's distraught expression was immediate and comical, his faceplate contorting in a way that made it seem like he was about to burst into tears.
"What?!" he shrieked, his hand shooting out to grab the shard off the ground. "Eat it?! That's... that's..." He sputtered, unable to form coherent words. You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest, the tension breaking like a dam. "I'm just kidding!" you chuckled, your voice bouncing around the mine shaft. Starscream paused, the shard hovering just out of your light's reach. His optics narrowed, and for a moment, you thought you'd pushed your luck too far. But then, a sound came from him that you hadn't expected—a metallic chuckle. It sent shivers down your spine.
"You are an odd one, human," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and contemplation. "Your kind usually cower in fear when faced with my grandeur." You took a shaky breath, your heart racing. "Well, uh, what can I say?" you replied, trying to play it cool. "You seem like a good... guy-uh-robot to be around."
What the fuck do I even call this interaction? A not-so-friendly interaction between man kind and E.T.'s version of A.I? You joked.
Starscream studied you for a moment, his optics wide with surprise. It was the first time he'd encountered a human who didn't run screaming at the sight of a Decepticon. "You're... different," he said, his voice still tinged with amusement.
"Yeah," You murmured under your breath, " built different, for sure." You watched as the giant robot paused, seemingly contemplating your words. Your heart was racing so fast you could feel it in your fingertips, but you kept the smirk on your face, refusing to let the fear show.
"So, what's the deal with the crystal?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and bravado. Starscream tapped his chin with a sharp digit, his gaze flicking to the shard and back to you. "It's not just a piece of rock," he said slowly, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "It's a piece of my world. It's what keeps me... alive."
Um.. Okay! This just keeps getting weirder. Like something straight out of a sci-fi documentary.
You cringe. You nodded, trying to appear understanding despite the absurdity of the situation. "So, it's like... your robotic version of coffee?" you quipped, your voice still shaky with fear. Starscream stared at you for a moment, his optics unreadable. Then, to your astonishment, he chuckled again. "In a way," he said, his tone less hostile now. "But it's not just about survival. It's power, strength, dominance. Without it, we're... weak."
It's working! You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew you had to keep him talking, keep him distracted. "So, like, if I had that," you pointed to the shard with the light, "I could be a superhero?" Your mind almost wandered to becoming Wonder Woman, and tying this thing in the Lasso of Truth to spit it out. Kinky.
Starscream's optics grew wide for a moment, then narrowed again. "You would not," he said, his voice a low growl, "survive the effects." Your smirk slipped slightly, the reality of the situation hitting you like a freight train.
"Oh," you said, your voice small. "Well, that's good to know."
Starscream's gaze shifted from the energon shard to you, his red optics piercing through the darkness. "What is an organic like you doing in this mine?" he repeated, his voice now a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed hard, your smile slipping away entirely.
"Just... passing through," you managed, your voice a squeak. "You know, the usual touristy stuff." It isn't going to believe that. Are you serious? You remind yourself to slap yourself a bunch of times later. If you get out of here alive.
Starscream's gaze lingered on your boots, then traveled up your dust-covered legs to your face. "You don't look like you're dressed for a tour," he said, his voice still a low rumble. You couldn't help the scoff that bubbled out of you.
"And how would you know?" you shot back, trying to keep the fear from your voice. "What do robots know about dressing up?" Exactly! Try to answer that one, fucker. You smirk.
The question seemed to catch Starscream off guard, his metallic frame pausing in its slow, menacing approach. For a brief moment, you could almost see a hint of curiosity in his optics. "You think I can't appreciate your... attire?" he asked, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief.
Oh.
You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well," you began, "you know what they say, 'When in Jasper...' "
I'm pulling shit out of my ass! Nobody says this! You mentally slap yourself.
Starscream cocked his head slightly, the gears in his neck whirring as he studied you with a mix of curiosity and confusion. "What do they say?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the very rock around them. But before you could finish your quip, the silence was shattered by the roar of an engine.
Saved by the bell!
The sound grew louder, filling the cavern, until it was a deafening crescendo that seemed to vibrate the very air around them. Your eyes widened, and you turned just in time to see a blur of yellow and black barreling straight towards Starscream. Your mouth dropped open in shock as the blur transformed into a sleek yellow sports car, skidding to a halt between you and the towering Decepticon.
"Hey!" Mark's call of your name echoed through the mine, and you whipped around to see your brother's head sticking out of the window of a green SUV, his eyes wide with terror. "Get in! Now!" You shoved one of the little blue crystals into your pocket, maybe you can eat it later, you thought.
Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the vehicle, your legs moving faster than you thought possible. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the heat of Starscream's gaze boring into your back. Sorry, bro. Don't wanna die today. The ground shook again, and you knew that the Decepticon was giving chase. You flung yourself into the passenger seat, your hands trembling as you fumbled with the seatbelt. The engine of the green SUV roared to life, and you didn't even have time to question how your brother had managed to get it running before it lurched forward. The tires spun, sending gravel flying as Mark peeled out of the mine's entrance, the headlights piercing the inky darkness.
"What the fuck, Mark?!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of fear and exasperation. "What?" Mark's eyes darted from the road to you, his expression a mix of confusion and horror. "What are you talking about?" You stared at him, your heart racing. "The car, Mark!" you exclaimed, your voice high-pitched. "It just... turned into another big robot!" Mark's jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on the road, swerving to avoid the potholes that threatened to swallow them whole.
"Not exactly," he corrected, his voice tense. "He's a transformer. Bumblebee, to be exact."
They name cars after bugs now? You guess Starscream was a bit of a weird name, too. What kind of fucked up roleplay was this?
You blinked rapidly, trying to process this new piece of information. "But he's... so shiny," you murmured, your eyes wide as you watched the yellow and black robot-car in the side-view mirror, keeping pace with their frantic escape. Mark shot you a look that was half-panic, half-exasperation. "It's not just a car," he said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "It's an Autobot. They're real, and apparently, they drive." Autobutt? Huh, I guess I was somewhat right.
Realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You were not just in a car; you were inside a robot. "Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes wide with wonder and a hint of terror. "I'm inside a robot."
"I'm inside a robot!" Mark rolled his eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Not sexually, though," you added, your voice shaky. You glanced over at him, expecting a laugh, but his expression was anything but amused. "What?" you asked, your voice small. "It's a little weird, right?"
"Weird?" Mark's voice was strained as he shook his head. "You're acting like we just picked up a hitchhiker, not that we're being chased by a giant alien robot." You blinked, your humor dissipating as you took in the gravity of the situation. "You're right," you murmured, swiping a shaky hand over your mouth. "This is... not normal."
No shit, Sherlock.
A deep voice rumbled, and this time, it was clear it wasn't coming from Mark. It was a sound that resonated from the very core of the vehicle, vibrating through the metal and into their bones. "This is anything but normal," it said, the voice echoing in the confined space of the car. Both of you jumped, your eyes widening in unison.
"Holy shit," You breathed, your eyes darting to the dashboard. "This one talks too!" Well I'll be damned. "Yup," the SUV's voice responded calmly, though the urgency in its tone didn't waver. "The 'big guy' back there that you were talking to is called Starscream, a high-ranking Decepticon. And you're both in a bit of a pickle."
You snort. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the absurdity of the conversation. "Like... a sweet pickle?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood. "Or a half-sour one?" Mark's stern expression didn't waver as he hit your shoulder. "This isn't a joke!" he hissed, his eyes on the road. "We're in a car that can turn into a giant robot, and we're being chased by an angry Decepticon." You took a deep breath, nodding. "Sorry," you murmured. "It's just... a bit much to take in." You looked back at the side mirror again, watching as Starscream's form grew smaller in the distance.
"But seriously," you continued, your voice a mix of nerves and wonder, "why do you call them Decepticons?" The engine rumbled, and you could almost feel the robot's smile. "It's a long story," it said, the voice now calmer, "but basically, they're not the friendliest bunch."
"Okay.. good to know." You replied. You nodded, trying to keep your breathing even. "So, where are we going?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly. "Is there... a robot hideout or something?" The radio crackled to life, filling the cabin with a comforting hum. "Somewhere safe," the SUV's voice responded, his deep tone resonating through the speakers. "Somewhere Starscream can't get his hands on you." You felt a shiver run down your spine at the words, and you couldn't help the errant thought that flitted through your mind: But what if I want his hands on me? It was a ludicrous notion, born of a mix of adrenaline and the absurdity of the situation. You quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the road ahead. The thought of a giant robot wanting to do anything to you, let alone harm you, was enough to make your stomach churn.
"Okay... thank you, uh..." You couldn't finish your sentence without the name of whatever- whoever your savior was, your voice trailing off awkwardly. You glanced over at Mark, who was white-knuckling the steering wheel, his eyes darting to the side mirror every few seconds. "Bulkhead," the vehicle rumbled again, with the patience of a saint dealing with a confused child. "And no need to grip the wheel so tightly," it said, its tone a bit lighter this time, "I feel like I'm being choked by scraplets."
What are scraplets? You saved that question for a later time. Mark's grip on the steering wheel loosened, his knuckles going from bone-white to a more human shade of pale. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the side mirror one last time before relinquishing control. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice tight with fear. "Thank you, Bulkhead." The engine rumbled comfortingly, the vibration a soothing reminder that you weren't alone. It was as if the robot-vehicle was trying to reassure you two that everything would be okay. The sound grew louder as Bulkhead sped down the winding gravelly road, the headlights cutting a path through the night.
You leaned back in your seat, your heart slowly returning to a less frantic rhythm. Then, without warning, a brilliant emerald light split the darkness ahead. It grew larger, a swirling vortex of energy that filled the width of the road. "What the—?" you yelped, your eyes wide. "Bulkhead, what's happening?" Mark's voice was strained, his eyes glued to the rapidly approaching phenomenon. "Hold on," the robot's voice was firm, a hint of urgency seeping through the speakers.
"We're using a ground bridge."
"A what?-" Mark was cut off by the speeding sound of a jet, zooming past the three of you and in front of the ground bridge. The jet's form shimmered and shifted, its metallic skin folding and contorting until it transformed into a towering robot form. Starscream.
Damn. I'd pay to see more of that, honestly. For your first time seeing something like that transform, your reaction was to be expected. Even though your mind had tried to joke around, your heart plummeted to the floorboards. The hope that had flared in your chest at the mention of escape was suddenly extinguished, like a candle in a hurricane. "You've got to be kidding me," you murmured, your voice a barely-there whisper. The situation had gone from weird to downright terrifying in not even a heartbeat. But even as you watched the Decepticon transform, you couldn't help the errant thought that sizzled through your mind—there was something... captivating about the way Starscream moved.
Oh come on, don't think about this now! You tried to calm yourself from the flurry of emotions. The fluid grace of his transformation was like watching a ballet dancer in some kind of horror movie, each motion a symphony of power and precision that was impossible to look away from. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. The idea of finding something attractive in a creature that had just threatened to obliterate you was... complicated. Your musings were cut short as the car—no, Bulkhead—sped up, the engine roaring like a beast as he approached the ground bridge.
"Scrap!" the radio grunted, the sound echoing in the cabin. You assumed that was their version of 'shit!' and you couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.
If 'scrap' means 'shit', does that mean scraplets are shitlets? Your mind really could not focus on a single thing.
In a blur of motion, Bulkhead transformed before your eyes. The both of you were thrown back into your seats as the metal around you groaned and shifted. The headlights grew into piercing blue eyes, the hood morphed into a chest plate, and the green SUV that had been you and your brother's escape was now a towering robot, the likes of which you had never seen outside of a movie screen. Wow. Holy shit. Do that again, please!
As the dust settled, you looked down to find that the two of you had been transferred to the palm of Bulkhead's servo. The metal was surprisingly warm, his servo's digits curled softly around your human bodies to keep them from falling. A stark difference between the expression on his faceplate. Mark looked equally shocked, his eyes wide as he gripped a steering wheel now made of air.
"W-what the hell?" he stammered. Bulkhead's gaze was firm, his voice a mix of resolve and concern. "I need to put you guys down," he said, the gravity in his tone unmistakable. "Starscream isn't leaving here without some kind of fight." You nodded, your eyes never leaving the emerald-lit figure in the distance. "But-" you started, but Bulkhead cut you off. "Don't worry," he said, his deep voice filled with an unspoken promise, "Bumblebee is coming."
Let's fucking go! I get to ride inside another robot! You cheered again. You took a deep breath, your heart thundering in your chest like a stampede of wild horses on drugs. "Okay," you whispered, your voice quivering as Bulkhead gently placed you both on the ground behind him. The earth trembled as the two giant robots faced each other, a battle of titans about to unfold before your very eyes. Mark looked at you, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe, and you forced a smile. "Remember, you're built different," you murmured, echoing your earlier words. The green robot nodded, his expression grim. "You stay here," he instructed, his deep voice a rumble that seemed to shake the very air around them. "Stay safe." Yep! Whatever you say, big guy! I hope your insect friend is just as kind as you. You were so done.
With that, Bulkhead turned back to the ground bridge, his massive form striding towards the emerald maelstrom with a determination that made your heart swell with something that felt suspiciously like pride. Mark's hand found yours, your eyes locked in silent understanding as they watched their robotic protector approach the enemy.
The air grew thick with tension as Bulkhead reached the edge of the light, and Starscream's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Well, if it isn't the pesky Autobot Bulkhead," he sneered, his digit pointing with disdain. The sound of his contempt was almost palpable, and you had tried to bite back a snappy comeback.
'I'd shut him up alright..' Is what you wanted to say. Thinking with what's in your pants and not with your head, obviously. But before you could get another word out, Mark's hand tightened around yours. "You said that out loud," he murmured, his voice a mix of horror and admiration.
'No way. No I didn't.' "Yes. You did." Mark snapped back. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, realizing that in your shock, you had spoken your thoughts aloud. You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure as the reality of the situation sank in. "I did," you said, your voice steadying. "And now he's mad."
Nice going. Now you're royally fucked in the ass. You cursed yourself.
Starscream's gaze shifted from Bulkhead to you, his optics narrowing into slits of anger. "You!" And thus, I die. He shifts his digit towards you instead of Bulkhead. "Human- you gave my position away! This is your fault!" Your heart skips a beat.
"Who, me?" You giggle nervously, trying to play dumb. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!" You say, your voice shakier than you'd like it to be. You start to pull off your dusty jacket, your eyes darting around for anything that could serve as a distraction. With trembling hands, you toss it to the ground behind you.
"Look, I'm totally not the person you're looking for!" you say with forced cheerfulness. "I'm like... a whole new model!" Check me out. Aren't I hot as fuck? Your mind generates words for you that you swear isn't your evil self talking for you. Your brother looks at you, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open.
"You can't be fucking serious," Mark whispers, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. "You're trying to flirt with a giant robot?" You still. Umm.. How'd you know? Was I obvious? "I'm not flirting!" you decide to hiss back, your cheeks flushing a deep red. "It's called distraction!"
Whoops! You mentally flail your hands in exasperation.
The air around Starscream crackles with energy as he takes a step closer, his optics burning with rage. "Distraction?" He spits out the word. "I am not amused, human!" Bulkhead swings his massive arm, blocking the Decepticon's path. "This doesn't involve them, Starscream," he says firmly, his deep voice resonating through the night. "It's just you and me here." He smashes his balled-up servos together.
The revving of an engine pierces the tense silence, growing louder by the second. Both Autobot and Decepticon whirl around, their attention snapping to the source of the sound. In the distance, a cloud of dust billows into the night sky, illuminated by the headlights of an approaching vehicle. "Bumblebee!" Mark whispers-yells, his voice a mix of relief and excitement. You can't help the grin that spreads across your face. Despite the danger, the thought of two giant robots fighting over you is... thrilling. I said stop thinking about that! You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see how it played out.
The yellow camaro skids to a halt near the two of you, the doors flying open with a dramatic flair that only a Hollywood director could appreciate. The interior lights up like a stage, and you can almost hear a cheesy '80s rock anthem playing in the background. Damn. Nice. "Get in!" Bulkhead barks, his voice echoing while trying to hold off Starscream, buying Mark and you time.
Your heart in your throat, you nod, your eyes glued to the battle. Bulkhead's fists collide with Starscream's with a sound that makes the very earth tremble beneath your feet. You can see the glow of their weapons, the air around them crackling with energy. It's like watching a live-action anime, except you aren't safe on your couch with popcorn. Cool as fuck. If you're dreaming, you half want to wake up, and half want to keep sleeping.
Every step you take is a dance with gravity, your body swaying as the ground quakes. The car's door seems so close, yet with every tremor, you're sure you'll trip. The dust clouds kicked up by the clashing robo-titans obscure your vision, but you're determined. Your hand reaches out, ghosting over the cool metal of the door frame. Freedom is just a breath away.
Go! Faster! Pedal to the metal, bitch! You tell your legs. "Come on!" Mark's voice cuts through the cacophony of clanging metal and grinding earth. You snap out of your daze and sprint towards the open passenger side door. Bulkhead's metallic arm swings around, blocking another blow from Starscream, the force of it sending a shockwave that nearly knocks you off your feet. You stumble, your hand finding purchase on the door handle. But just as you were about to get in, Bulkhead's voice rang out.
"Watch out!"
You looked up in confusion, your eyes widening as you saw a giant hand—no, a servo—reach down and pluck you off the ground. You screamed, the sound lost in the din of the battle. Starscream had you in his grasp, holding you like a bug. No more funny jokes coming to mind anymore, are they? You slap yourself. Serious you scolds real life you mentally.
"You're coming with me" he grunted, his voice strained with effort as he smirked at Bulkhead, who was getting up from the gravelly road. "Wh-what the fuck?! Put me down!" You wailed, your voice shrill with fear and indignation. You kicked and squirmed in his grasp, your legs flailing like a ragdoll's. Mark's eyes were the size of dinner plates, and you could see his mouth moving, but you couldn't hear his words over the roar of the battle. And just as Bulkhead was about to punch Starscream, something happened that you never would have anticipated in a million years. With a sound like the world's most terrifying origami, Starscream transformed into an F-16 fighter jet. The metal around you shifted, the ground disappeared from beneath you, and suddenly you were being cradled in the cockpit of the jet. All the sounds of battle were shut out as the sound of nothing filled your ears.
This is great. Fucking fantastic. "You- you just-" You whispered underneath your breath. "Holy fuck." It was all you could manage to get out. Your heart was racing so fast it felt like it was trying to escape your chest cavity, and you couldn't help but feel a weird thrill. You'd never been in a jet before, let alone one that was also a giant robot. The cockpit was surprisingly roomy, with a sleek console that looked like it was ripped straight from a sci-fi movie.
Starscream's voice was a low purr in your ear. "Fasten your seatbelt, darling," he said, his words dripping with a dark amusement. Hello?! This has got to be some set up! Because that was hot. You won't deny it. "It's going to be a bumpy ride." Your eyes went wide as you stumbled to comply, your trembling hands fumbling with the unfamiliar contraption. You could see Bulkhead at the outside of the window, his expression a mix of rage and fear. His fists were balled at his side, his body language screaming that he'd do anything to get you back, despite not knowing you at all. ..How weirdly thoughtful. You mused.
The sight of your brother, Mark, was even more shocking. His cheeks were faintly stained with tears, his eyes filled with a desperate hope that you knew all too well. You'd seen that look before, when you were kids, and you'd gotten into trouble you couldn't talk your way out of. But you weren't a kid anymore, and you weren't about to let a giant robot steal you without a fight.
"You're not taking me anywhere!" You yelled, your voice shaking with fear and defiance. "Put me down, you overgrown toaster!" The jet took off with a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality. The force pushed you back into the seat, your body straining against the seatbelt. You looked around wildly, your eyes searching for a way out. The console in front of you was a jumble of buttons and levers, none of which looked like they'd lead to an escape hatch.
"How do I get out of here?" you shouted over the din of the engines. Starscream's voice was cold, almost amused. "Why would you want to?" He taunted, his processor never leaving the control panel. "We're going on an adventure." Oh hell no. You want out. Now.
You grit your teeth. "Adventure?" you spat. "This is kidnapping!" But as you said it, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and dread. This was no theme park ride; this was the real deal. A real-life, sexy, transforming robot had you in his cockpit, and you had no idea what was waiting for you at the end of this "adventure." Your eyes darted around the cockpit, searching for anything you could use.
The control panel was a maze of buttons and switches, but you were pretty sure you'd seen something in the movies about a manual ejection seat. If you could just find it... "Don't you dare touch anything!" The jet warns. Ignoring him, you continue your search for the said control to eject yourself.
Here? No.. Maybe here? Nah. Oh, here! Your eyes scanned the panel.
"Starscream, I'm not playing games!" you yelled back, your voice shaky. "You can't just kidnap me and expect me to sit here quietly!" Your eyes landed on a red button with a little stick figure on it. "Is this it?" You thought to yourself, your heart racing. You knew it was a long shot, but desperation made you bold. You reached for it, your hand shaking.
Please be it, and not some manual remote button to make way for robo-slime! You silently prayed for the former. But before you could press it, Starscream shook himself, your balance faltering tremendously "I said don't touch anything!" he roared, steadying his form once again. The jet jerked as he swerved in the air, trying to keep you from reaching the controls again. "You're more trouble than you're worth!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," you shot back, your sarcasm thick enough to cut through the tension. "I didn't realize that being kidnapped by a giant robot was a silent, sit-and-wave-goodbye kind of deal!" You balled your fists, your nails digging into the plush upholstery of the seat. "You humans just can't keep your filthy little organic hands off anything, can you?" he grumbled, his voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. You felt a strange thrill at his words—he had noticed your touch, your curiosity. It was like poking a sleeping dragon with a stick, and you weren't entirely sure why you found it thrilling.
"Oh? You like that?" You joked, your voice shaking slightly. "You know what? I'm gonna touch all over you, Starscream. How about them apples, huh?" The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, a wild card thrown into the chaos of the moment. Your heart raced as you awaited his reaction.
If what you said before didn't get you killed, this would. You were for sure this time.
You prepared to say goodbye to your semi-eventful life. Starscream's engine sputtered in surprise, the jet jolting slightly in response. The seatbelt tightened, and you could feel the tension in the metal. "You dare?" His voice was a mix of anger and something else, something you couldn't quite place.
Did it fly over his head? You snort. Fly. Hes a jet. Whatever this weird, robotic flirting was, you were totally into it. It was like throwing gasoline on a fire that you had no intention of putting out. "Yeah," you said with a smirk, "that's right. I'm gonna put my fingers everywhere inside you. And you aren't gonna stop me."
That was one of the weirder things I said this week. Maybe I should lay off the media.. It was a bluff, a wild gamble, but it was all you had. You didn't care how wrong it sounded, how absurd the idea was that these alien beings had the capacity for... that. But the sound his engine made was worth it. Ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks, you began pushing buttons and flipping switches with reckless abandon. The cockpit lights flashed in a dizzying array of colors, the jet's engines sputtered and roared as you played a dangerous game of 'Simon Says' with the aircraft's systems. The jet dipped and swerved erratically in the sky.
Its working! I think.
You grew desperate. Before you could touch anything else, the jet did a nosedive, and you fell back into the seat, the feeling of falling heavy on you. "H-Holy shit!" you exclaimed, your eyes going wide with a mix of terror and exhilaration. Your stomach lurched, and you braced yourself for the inevitable crash, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum solo in a heavy metal concert. "Starscream!" you yelled, your voice a mix of anger and fear. "What the fuck are you doing?" The Decepticon's chuckle grew deeper, more sinister. "Just giving you a little taste of what it's like to fly with the king of Cybertron's skies," he said, his voice smug.
The jet leveled out, and your stomach settled slightly, though your heart was still racing. "But don't get too comfortable," he warned, his tone dropping back to its usual menace. "We're not going on a joyride."
Shiiiiiiit.
Your mind instantly went to the gutter after that. Joyride? With Starscream? The thought was absurd, but you couldn't help the little thrill that shot through you. You'd never been one to back down from a challenge, and if flirting with a giant robot was what it took to survive, you'd do it. "Oh, I know," you said, your voice dripping with fake sweetness. "I'm just here for the... scenic route." The jet did another sharp nosedive, and you squealed, your heart racing as the world outside the cockpit spun in a blur of dark sky and lights. "For fuck's sake, Starscream," you yelled, your grip on the seat tightening. "Stop doing that! I will literally throw up my guts inside of you!"
The jet's descent leveled out, and Starscream's voice was shakier than you'd ever heard it. "Don't-" He paused, his voice strained, as if the very thought was physically painful. "Don't ever say that again." Yeah, that's what you fucking get, inner you rasps. You couldn't help but burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation bubbling up inside you. "What? Did I hit a nerve?" you teased, your voice light and dragging out the 'er'. "You're not gonna throw up on me, are you?"
The jet jerked again, and you could almost imagine Starscream's metallic face turning a shade of green. "You humans are so... so... disgusting!" he managed to spit out, his voice strained. You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. "Well, you're the one who took me," you said, your voice still shaky with laughter. "If you don't want a little human flavor, maybe don't kidnap me." I taste gross, anyway. If Starscream was in his robot form, you assume he would lurch over and puke whatever robots eat. Energon? Would he throw up shiny blue crystals? That would be cool, you think. But you're in a jet, not a robot's stomach, and you're pretty sure that's not how this is going to go down.
"So, where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice. "You'll see," he grumbles, his focus on the horizon. You swallow hard and look out the cockpit window. Despite the situation, the view was actually really nice. The night sky stretched out like a velvet blanket, studded with stars so bright they seemed to be winking at you. The lights of Jasper grew distant, the desert landscape a muted canvas of shadowy dunes and craggy outcroppings. The wind rushed past the jet, a symphony of sound that was surprisingly soothing to you.
I should do this more often, just not inside a mechanical dragonfly with feelings, you note to yourself. "Maybe I should get some shut eye," you murmur to yourself, trying to ignore the fear that's doing the macarena in your stomach. You leaned back in the seat and began to close your eyes, hoping that somehow, you could find some semblance of peace in this metal cocoon. But just as you're about to drift off, the jet's engines cut out, and the world goes quiet. Your eyes fly open, and you're thrown forward as the jet jolts to a sudden stop. The world outside the cockpit is plunged into darkness, and for a moment, you're convinced you've crashed. But instead, you feel the unmistakable sensation of landing—except it's not the rough, gravelly earth you expect. The ground beneath the jet is smooth, metallic even.
"What the...?" you whisper. The cockpit opens with a hiss, and you're momentarily blinded by the harsh lights that flood in. The light is intense, and you shield your eyes with your arm. You squint through the glare, trying to make out what's before you. It's... massive. Hah! Massive? Like- you cut your mind off, observing your surroundings.
A ship that seems to stretch on forever, with a gleaming exterior that makes you feel like a bug about to be squashed under a giant shoe. "Welcome.. to the Nemesis." Starscream says, his voice a mix of pride and malice. Okay.. Average villain transportation name.
As the cockpit of the jet opens to reveal the cavernous belly of the ship. The lights inside the ship are so bright that it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you're left speechless. Dude just brought me aboard the mothership. I get to be the first human to see if E.T. is real! Or probably get dissected and live on as a robo-organism. Your first thought is definitely a wild one.
The metal walls of the ship are sleek, with a pattern of greens and purples that pulse like a living being. The floor beneath you is cold and unforgiving, and you can feel the thrum of the ship's engines resonating through your bones. Eugh.. Freaky.
"Looks like you've got yourself a pretty sweet ride," You say, your voice shaky. You try to keep your cool, but the tremor in your voice betrays your fear. "I've never been on a spaceship before," you add, trying to keep the conversation light. Starscream sneers. "This isn't one of your puny human 'fairy tales' or fiction novels!" His words are like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder that you're not in a sci-fi convention anymore. This is the real deal, and you're just the very unwilling sidekick in a very dangerous game. But then, something strange happens. The jet's cockpit shifts and morphs around you, the metal stretching and folding until it forms a sleek robotic body.
Damn. Could use some work on them thighs, though.
Starscream is standing before you, and you can't help but let out a low whistle. "Well, would you look at that," you murmur, your voice filled with a mix of amazement and fear. And.. something else. "You do clean up nicely." Your eyes glance up and down his frame.
Not bad. Wait, what? Cut that shit out! Against all logic, you find yourself ogling the Decepticon's robotic form. It's... attractive, in a weird, alien, 'I shouldn't find this sexy, but I do' kind of way. You were never able to see his form clearly in the dark, even when the space bridge was shining so brightly, and you can't help but appreciate the way the lights play off his gleaming chrome.
"So, this is what you really look like," you say, your voice a bit too steady. "I've got to admit, you're a lot more... personable this way." Submit to my compliments, chicken wing fucker. Starscream looks at you with a mix of confusion and disgust, his optics narrowing. "You find me... 'personable'?" He says the word like it's a disease.
You just shrug, trying to play it cool. "Well, you know, you're not trying to kill me anymore," you say with a wink, hoping your humor will keep you safe once again. "That's a plus." The Decepticon's servo tightens around your body, his grip like a vice. "You think this is a game?" he hisses, his voice a deadly whisper. "You think you can charm your way out of this?" You swallow hard, your heart racing. You've pushed too far, and you know it. The thrill of the chase has turned into a game of Tom and Jerry, and you're the mouse with no cheese in sight.
"Look, I'm sorry," you say, your voice shaking. "I didn't mean to... to annoy you." I'm definitely in for it now. Goodbye, Mark. I won't miss your shitty homemade chocolate. "Annoy me?" Starscream's voice is a low growl, his eyes burning with a cold anger. "You dare to annoy me?" He shakes you slightly, and you wince.
"You know nothing of the war we fight, the stakes at hand. And yet, here you are, throwing jokes like confetti!"
"Look, Starscream, I'm sorry!" you say, your voice squeaking out. "I'm just trying to keep it together, okay?" You look up at him, your eyes wide and earnest. "I didn't mean to get involved in whatever this is. I just want to go home."
"I just want to go home."
The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your desperation. For a moment, Starscream seems to hesitate, his servo loosening slightly. There's a flicker in his optics, something you can't quite read. "Home," he repeats, his voice softer, almost wistful. "What is it you humans find so... appealing about those tiny, fragile structures?" You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, it's not about the house, really," you say, your mind racing for a way to relate. "It's about... you know, safety, family." You try a tentative smile. "It's where we keep our stuff. Like, I've got a collection of rubber ducks that would be really sad if I didn't come home." Ugh, I wasn't planning on revealing my secret stash to anyone. Let alone this thing.
Starscream stares at you, his expression unreadable. "Rubber... ducks?" he repeats, as if the very concept is alien to him. You bite back a chuckle. Ironic. "Why would you collect something so... trivial?" You shrug, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. "They're cute," you say with a shrug. "And they make bath time less... lonely?" Your voice trails off, and you wonder if you said too much. Maybe they didn't bathe? That's kind of gross, you think.
Starscream's gaze sharpens, and you can almost feel him weighing your words. "Odd," he murmurs. "You humans and your... 'comforts.'" He says the word like it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can't help but feel like you're dancing on a tightrope over a pit of robotic alligators. "Well, we like our comforts," you say with a forced smile. "And I'd really like to get back to mine." As much as I think I like talking to you, please let me go.
Starscream leans down at you, his faceplate inches from yours. His breath—or rather, the faint whirl of his venting—feels hot and metallic on your skin. For a brief, terrifying moment, you're sure he's going to crush you like a soda can. But instead, his optics flicker with something you can't quite read—curiosity, perhaps? "You amuse me, human," he says, his voice a low rumble. "But do not think for a second that your 'comforts' will save you from what's to come." Your heart drops, the gravity of your situation sinking in like stone. Reality hits you for the nth time tonight as you sink down in his servo, his powerful form towering over you. You're in the clutches of a creature you'd only ever seen in movies, in a place that's more alien than any sci-fi writer could dream up. The ship's walls seem to close in around you, the air thick with the scent of oil and burning circuits.
The rest of the journey is a silent one. Starscream doesn't say a word, his eyes never leaving your form as he carries you through the ship. The only sounds are the echo of his footsteps and the occasional hiss of venting air. You try not to look around too much, not wanting to betray your curiosity and fear. But you can't help but steal glances at the smaller, purple robots that flit by, their forms sleek and deadly.
They're like a shorter version of Starscream, you note, with a strange comfort that you quickly squash. Size doesn't equal kindness, especially not in a world where big sexy robots are a thing.
Starscream comes to a halt in front of a door—or what you assume is a door. You're proved right when the door hisses open, revealing a chamber that seems to pulse with a dark energy. It's like walking into a sauna that's been decorated by H.R. Giger on a particularly moody day. But strangely, it looks more robotic than alien. The walls are slick with what you assume is oil—or is it blood? Robots bleed, right? It's hard to tell with all the weird lights—and there's a table in the middle that looks suspiciously like an operating table from in a hospital horror movie.
On that table is a red robot, his body a smooth and gleaming metal. Kind of looks like 'Prince Sidon,' your mind jokes. You can't tell if he's a Decepticum or an Autofart from here, but he seems to be working on himself. Tools surround him, whirring and beeping as he fixes whatever damage he's sustained. Clicking and clacking of tools on metal fills the air.
"Knockout," Starscream says, his voice echoing through the chamber. The robot on the table looks up, his optics narrowing at the interruption. You can see the annoyance in his posture, the way he sighs and rolls his shoulders back. Definitely a Decepticum, you think. He's got that 'I'm better than you' look down to a science.
"Ah, Starscream," Knockout says, his voice dripping with something that's definitely not enthusiasm. "What brings you here with your... 'organic pet'?" His optics flicker over to you, and you can feel his contempt. He looks pretty cool. I like his finish.
You try to keep your cool, but the sweat is running down your back now. You're pretty sure you're about to pee your pants. "Hi," you say, waving awkwardly. You introduce yourself. "Nice to meetcha." Knockout's disgust is palpable, his nose turning up at the sight of you. "What is this... thing doing here?" he says, his voice filled with revulsion.
Well, ex-fucking-scuuuse me! Your smile falters, but you try to keep the fear from your voice.
"Well, I was just in the neighborhood," you say, your words coming out in a rush. "You know, enjoying the local scenery, and Starshitter here was kind enough to give me a personal tour." You nod at Starscream, who still hasn't said a word, his grip on you tightening at the nickname. You wince. Knockout snorts. "A tour, is it?" He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How... quaint."
Starscream wants to say 'That's not what happened! You ratted me out in an energon mine!' His mind races with the memory of the betrayal, the sting of it fresh even after all these years serving the Decepticon cause. But he can't say it. Not with you in his grasp, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. Instead, he says nothing, his servo tightening around you again as he glares at Knockout.
The silence stretches on, the air thick with unspoken accusations of Starscream's greed for energon. Knockout's optics narrow, and you swear can feel the tension in the room trickling down your back. It was actually sweat. Gross. You open your mouth to say something—anything—to break the tension, but Starscream's grip tightens, a clear warning not to speak.
"Knockout," Starscream says, his voice cold and clipped. "I require your services." Say its for you, not me. Say its for you, not me! You mentally plead to him and the gods above. The red Decepticon sighs, setting down the wrench he was holding. "And what, pray tell, do you need me to fix this time?" He looks over you, his optics narrowing. "Or is this your idea of a pet project?" Your heart races as you realize that you're being discussed like a piece of meat at a butcher shop.
"I'm not a pet!" you say, your voice shakier than you'd like. "I'm a person! With feelings and stuff!" Do these things have no shred of sympathy?
"Silence!" Starscream barks, his grip tightening. He turns to Knockout. "I need you to... examine her," he says, his voice cold. "Make sure she's not carrying any... 'surprises' that the Autobots might find useful." Your heart plummets. From this ship, to the center of the world. "Wait, what?" you squeak. "Examine me? What do you mean by that?" Panic sets in as you realize you're about to be poked and prodded by a robot that probably likes dismembering things.
You try to pull away, but Starscream's grip is like a steel trap. "You heard me," he says, his voice like the grind of gears. "Make sure she's not hiding anything." "But I'm not!" you protest, your voice rising in pitch. "I didn't even know you guys existed until a few moments ago! I don't even know who the Autobots are!" But Starscream is already ignoring you, his gaze fixed on Knockout.
Starscream walks over to the examination table and drops you there, your body colliding with the metal with a thwump!
"Do it," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now." With a dramatic huff, Knockout reluctantly approaches the examining table. Your heart races as the red Decepticon looms over you, his servo hovering above you with a set of instruments that look like they were taken from a medieval torture chamber.
Gulp.
"Fine," he says, his voice a mix of boredom and disdain. "But if she breaks, it's on your head." Breaks?! I'm not a fucking toy!. Starscream scoffs and walks away, the doors opening with another hiss. You watch as he goes, your eyes wide and your breath shallow. He's the only one you've ever talked to, the only one you've ever interacted with besides Bulkhead, and now he's leaving you with... this..? Knock-Knock? Knock-down? You're shaking on the cold metal, and you can't help but feel a strange sense of abandonment.
Starscream had been your tormentor, sure, but he'd also been a... a... a what? A conversationalist? A... captor with a sense of humor? Whatever he was, he was familiar. And now he was gone. Well, if I have to be the first human sacrifice, so be it, you brace yourself, ready to be penetrated. At least if someone finds your mutated body in the future, they'll know you tried.
Just kidding. On the bright side, at least you didn't try very hard.
Knockout shudders at the look of you. The red Decepticon's gaze sweeps over you, his derma curling in a sneer. "You're a mess," he says, his voice filled with distaste. "What does he think I am, a mechanic for humans?" You swallow hard, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice.
"Look, I don't know what he wants, but I'm not hiding anything," you say, your voice shaking. "I'm just a girl that lives in Jasper, okay?" Knockout's gaze lingers on you, his expression unreadable. "We'll see," he says, his voice a low growl. "Now, hold still."
Your mind stills. And for the thousandth time that night, you swear your heart stops. Whatever tools he's using comes closer to you and you shut your eyes as tight as you can. Your world had been turned upside down in the span of what felt like hours. Gone were the mundane worries of school, your job, and keeping your rubber duck collection from being discovered by your friends. Instead, you're in the clutches of a giant robot in a spaceship that smells faintly of burnt metal and oil.
Your heart races as the reality of your situation sets in—you're a long, long way from Jasper, and the only thing standing between you and a grisly fate is your ability to keep Starscream's attention.
"Well, fuck me then."
Knockout makes a disgruntled noise and backs away with disgust. This could very well be your life now.
Notes:
i just realized none of this would've happened if bumblebee parked closer
Chapter 2: Smash or pass! Robofucker edition.
Summary:
Have you ever thought that when someone loves something so much, they buy it for themselves? Well, the Decepticons seem to love you! Except, they don't. And a certain seeker just took you from your home! You're infuriated. You are sure you have gone mentally insane.
Luckily, you're willing to indulge, just enough until you can't take it anymore. Chaos and flirting ensue.
Notes:
This was shorter than I wanted it to be, oh well. I asked my friend 'hey do u think i can hit like 30k words'
'yea'
and i tried to do it, failed, and went with it
cuz again, this is an experiment.and you, *pointing with one of those professor pointer hands* are my test subject
have fun getting freaky with decepticums
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mark couldn't even begin to describe his situation.
After you were quite literally abducted by aliens, its safe to say he never wants to do this again. The only exception being to save you.
But how could he? How could he save you when he couldn't get a single word out of his trembling lips, fearing for his life?
Say something, damn it!
Bumblebee and Bulkhead have taken Mark to a safer place, the Autobot hideout. The uncomfortable feeling of going through a ground bridge is like puking the world's worst cereal out in reverse. The overwhelming feelings of losing his only sibling and shock, mixed with pure terror are not lost on him. Mark had experienced some pretty fucked up things growing up with you, but you both had each other.
Now? You're gone. And aliens are real.
Exiting the ground bridge, the two Autobots transform into their usual Cybertronian forms. Mark is set down on the floor between the two, unable to stare anybody in the eye.
In the background, a red and white robot groans in exasperation, grumbling something about another human in base.
Two other robots, one of which who's tall frame overpowers every bot in the room, colors a striking contrast from the other, yet seemingly fit in place. The other a shorter, vibrant blue. Their optics scanning the situation, each understanding of the flurry of emotions whirling through Mark.
"Welcome to the party," Bulkhead says with a gloomy chuckle, slapping a comforting digit on Mark's shoulder. "You okay, buddy?"
'Okay?! Am I okay?!' Mark wants to say, but he knew better. He knew better than to snap at a huge green alien that could squish him if it desired! Who knows? What if this was all a ploy to split the both of you up and take you apart for.. research?
Mark nodded shakily, his eyes wide with terror. "I-I'm okay," he managed to croak out. "But I have to get my sister back. Starscream has her."
The mere mention of said Decepticon made Mark's blood boil with rage. How dare it- he? You are each other's only family, after an incident that the both of you could never forget.
Think straight, Mark. Get her back! Your life will never be the same without her ridiculous-out-of-this-world jokes.*
At least he'll remember you by something.
With Knockout, you felt like you had a chance.
You hope your brother is out of this nonsense, drinking and partying with the other people in the mine like no tomorrow.
Ever since you learned that this sexy bitch of a Decepticon had a terrifying fear of human organisms in particular, you abused the fuck out of it. You squirmed and made unnecessary—which was necessary in your situation—remarks about the human body that he probably might not know.
If he did, he would've corrected you. You assume that Knock-knock over here hasn't done his research on human anatomy. Tsk, tsk.
Knockout's servo hovered over you, the cold metal sending chills down your spine. "Alright, let's just... get this over with," he muttered, his voice gruff. The instruments looked sharp and painful, and you couldn't help but flinch as he brought them closer.
"Nope! Fat chance, Mr. C. Mike Rack." Heh, good one. You mentally pat yourself on the back, considering he was supposed to examine you.
Knockout stares at you, optics darting around like a chameleon. His faceplate is like a cheesy omelette containing confusion, disgust, and horror of getting any of your fleshy insides splattered on his spotless finish. And you are eating that shit up.
Should I tell him what humans do in showers? Wait, do they take showers? Hold on, didn't you ask yourself this before? You start to think the situation is really getting to you.
You babbled on, trying to keep Knockout as uncomfortable as possible. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get so grossed out that he'd leave you alone. Or better yet, he'd accidentally cut himself on one of those medical instruments. Wishful thinking.
"Look," you say, trying to sound as serious as possible, which isn't easy when you're on the verge of hysterical laughter. "I don't know what Starscream told you, but I'm not a spy or whatever. I'm just a girl who got dragged into this mess because I made my brother follow me into a mine."
Knockout nearly threw his tools all over the place, wishing he could squish you, but is again reminded of his rather unfortunate situation.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thinner than the paint on a cheap, squishy toy. But he honestly wants to at this point. "Starscream just wants to make sure you're not carrying any... Autobot tech."
"I'm not! I literally told you! So stop trying to get a good view of what's beneath my clothes!" You nearly cackle at your words.
Knockout sighs heavily, his patience stretched to its limits. "Look, I don't want to be here any more than you do. Just cooperate, and this will all be over soon."
You swallow hard, your eyes darting around the room for any escape routes. But the walls are too smooth, the ceiling too high, and the only exits are blocked by a very irritated-looking red Decepticon. You know you can't outrun him, and you can't outsmart him either. Maybe if I play along, I can buy some time for myself...
So, with a gulp that echoes in the cold, metallic room, you decide to cooperate. "Okay, okay," you say, your voice shaky. "I'll let you check me out." God, enough with your words! You lift your arms, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. "But no funny business, okay?"
Prince Sidon groans for he thinks is the millionth time that cycle. "I want no business to do with you, fleshling." His baritone voice dropping at least two octaves lower.
My bad, could you say that again? Inner me was too busy fawning over your absolute control over a voice only used in Candy Crush ads. Can Starscream do that? You question yourself, mixed emotions radiating from your body. This red guy might just be your new favorite.
Knockout's servo pauses, his optics flicking over you as if he's trying to decide whether to laugh or be even more repulsed. "You're something else, human," he says, his voice a mix of annoyance and... admiration? Maybe you had a knack for this. Maybe you could make a career out of annoying Decepticons. You wonder if you'd be a billionaire, maybe you are one and just don't know it! Could you perhaps con these space robots for human currency? Hah, 'con.'
He starts his 'examination', which feels more like a half-hearted pat down than anything medical. His touch is surprisingly gentle, considering the situation. You can't help but feel a little bit relieved. Maybe he's not all bad. Or maybe he's just really good at his job. Or maybe he's just really good at not wanting to touch you. Most likely, you hum.
You awkwardly sit there, waiting for this to be over. The silence, save for the patting of metal on human skin, makes you want to crawl into a ditch and die there.
What if he finds something? What if I'm a spy? Oh my god, what if I have a USB drive up my butt?! Panic sets in as you feel his servo sliding down your side.
The room's only sounds are the faint beeping of the medical instruments and the clank of Knockout's movements. Each beep feels like a countdown to doom, each clank echoes in your chest like the tick of a bomb. The possibilities of what he could find creep into your mind like a sneaky cat burglar. Except the burglar is bright red like a Youtube notification.
As Knockout continues, you can't help but crack a smile. Maybe I'm not the only one with a weird sense of humor here. His annoyance is palpable, but he's not hurting you. Yet.
Suddenly, your mind clicks.
Wait.
You realize you might know what Starscream is looking for.
Oh, shitfuck! Does he know I picked up a shard of energon from that mine?! You recall the small crystal that you shoved down your pocket in a time of panic. 'For eating,' you repeated your earlier thoughts.
A sense of dread flows through you like water crushing through a dam.
Uh oh.
You play dumb, trying to keep the panic from your voice. "Is that all?" You ask, trying to sound innocent. "Just a little pat down?"
Knockout's servo stops, his optics narrowing. "Why?" He asks, suspicion lacing his voice. "You got something to hide?"
Your mind stills, but your mouth persists.
"Erm.. No?" You awkwardly crane your neck up to stare at him, a nervous smile playing on your lips. "Unless you want me to undress right here right now and behold to you, me, in my fleshy glory." You say while boring straight into his optics.
The medic wants to purge his tanks.
Knockout's servo hovered over your pocket, feeling something solid while patting you down, his gaze sharp. "What's this?" He said, his voice eerily calm. You swallowed hard, trying to come up with a lie that wouldn't sound like you actually lied.
Fuck! He found it! No..!
Ignoring the heart that throttles inside your ribcage, you make up the fattest lie you can.
"That— That's my dildo!"
You inhale, then exhale after a few beats of silence. Your jaw clenching more than a woman on the night of her honeymoon.
"Your... what?!" Knockout asks, his servo freezing mid-air.
Oh my god. Oh my gooood. I did not just do that. Groaning internally, you come to terms that you are a very fucked up person, which you should have. Years ago.
"You heard me. I always bring it with me."
You blurted it out like it was the most natural thing in the world. Knockout's servo hovered over your pocket for a moment longer, and then, to your amazement, he withdraws it, looking utterly disgusted. "You humans," he mutters, shaking his head. "I'll never understand you."
Playing along with yourself, you retort, "Why? Wanna try it out?" You tease as you wiggle your eyebrows.
Knockout's cheeks turn a shade of blue and you realize that might not have been the best approach. Is he blushing? Or is he grossed out-
Wait.
You realize, even though you're in the hands of aliens, you're also free.
The question isn't who is going to let me, it's who is going to stop me.
"Do you.."
Knockout could've sworn he knew what you were going to say.
"Don't— Don't you dare!" He warns you, pointing the tool he was holding at you like a sword.
Unfortunately, your chit-chat with the medic wasn't unheard of behind closed doors. Because the door to the medical bay opened as soon as you let the words fly out of your mouth.
"Do you watch porn?!" You half yelled, half questioned. Honestly, your curiosity knew no bounds, did it?
The look on Knockout's face was priceless. It was like someone had told him that his favorite show was canceled mid-season finale. Oh, the humanity! Dread crept into him as he heard the med-bay doors open with a hiss.
"What?!"
A familiar scratchy, high pitched voice pierced the awkward silence weighing around you and Knock-knock. Well, well, well. Look whose back.
Starscream.
Chicken wing fucker's optics widened at your question, his voice sharp as a tack. "What did you just say?"
Your eyes were blown wide as you realize that you said it the moment he strutted his sexy self into the room.
"I said, 'do you watch porn?'" You repeat, a bit more shakily than before.
All that confidence from before was thrown out the fucking window. Nice going, you stupid bitch!
The silence that follows is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Or, you know, a sword. If you had one. Which, admittedly, would be pretty handy right now. Would that even hurt them?
Starscream's optics are on you like lasers, his grip tightening on the doorframe. You've never seen a robot look so... flabbergasted? "P-Porn?!" He stammers, his vocal processors obviously not prepared for such a... human inquiry. "What is this?"
No response. Damn. Tough crowd out there.
Starscream grows impatient, pede hitting the ground like a little kid who's denied candy from a candy store.
"Bah! I entrusted with you the task of searching for anything she has to do with those blasted Autobots!" Starscream struts angrily towards K.O., a pointy digit just inches from his faceplate. His digit basically threatening to scratch his newly polished finish, Knockout gulps. Is this doomed yaoi?
"And what do you do? Make conversation!" Starscream hisses like a feral cat. You swear all you see is two abnormally large tigers fighting for dominance.
Your voice shakes with fake confidence as you try to play it cool, but inside you're a mix of pure terror and adrenaline. You had no idea if Starscream knew what porn was, but you were sure he didn't like humans. So maybe, just maybe, you could keep him off balance with your ridiculousness.
"Uhm-" You started, but was cut off by the harsh jostling of him plucking you up into his servo.
Why does this always happen to you?!
You're hoisted into the air by Starscream's servo, his grip tightening around your waist, making it harder to breathe. "Quiet, human! I do not want to listen to your absurd comments!" He rasps in your face.
Well, that certainly shut you up.
"And you," He pointed at the medic with his free servo. "Do you what you are told. I won't be so forgiving the next time this happens." He spits. His voice was deep enough to drop panties and boxers alike from a mile away.
Holy shit! He can do it too! You saved that revelation for later.
"I-I'm sorry," you wheeze out, trying not to let your fear show. "It's just, I've never met an alien before. I get nervous and I say weird things." You force a laugh that sounds as fake as a politician's promise. Starscream's grip loosens slightly, his optics narrowing as he looks you over.
His optics scan your form, maybe to see if Knockout had penetrated your skin somehow. After a few seconds, he responds.
"Do not attempt to manipulate me," he says coldly. "Decepticons do not indulge in human... amusements." His tone is like ice, sending a shiver down your spine. But you can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips.
Noted!
Chicken wing fucker swiftly turns around and exits the med-bay, leaving Prince Sidon dumbfounded.
'm sorry Knock-knock,' you whisper-yell to him, feeling a bit guilty, 'I didn't mean to cause trouble.' You did. But you still felt bad.
You look back at Knockout, who's staring at you like you just told him that you had a pet unicorn.
That is the last thing Knockout hears before the medical bay's doors close with a hiss.
Starscream takes you for a 'tour,' you tell yourself once again. The Nemesis' pulsating walls are enough to intimidate you. You see those tiny robots again, some glance at you, some offer a salute to your captor, and some don't even pay you mind at all.
"So, where are we going?" You ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.
Starscream does not humor you this time.
"We are going to see Megatron," he says flatly, not even bothering to look at you as he strides down the hallway.
...?
Is he expecting you to know who that is?
"Um.. Mega-who? Megalodon?" Does every robot just have a weird name? Maybe you should give yourself one, too. 'Delusionus' sounds fitting.
Starscream sighs heavily, his patience running out faster than your car's battery on a cold winter's day. "Megatron. Our leader," he clarifies, his voice a mix of exasperation and annoyance. "The one who will determine your fate."
Holy shitballs. Not only were you a helpless, stranded human on foreign property, but you were going to meet the foreign property's leader! Somewhere, in another universe, you wished you weren't always as royally fucked in them as this one.
"The one who will determine my fate?" You repeat, trying to keep the squeak out of your voice. "So, like, you guys have a council or something?" The council will now decide your fate. You snort.
Starscream hums.
"I suppose you could say that," he says, his servo tightening around your waist. "But let's just say Lord Megatron is more... decisive."
The mental image of this so called leader in your head was beginning to form. However, you were looking for more.. specific information.
"Cool, cool."
A long pause. You wanted to build suspense.
Here comes the million dollar question!
"Is he hot?" You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.
Starscream's servo shakes slightly, his grip loosening for a brief moment before tightening again. "What... What does that matter?" He asks, his voice betraying his confusion.
"Umm, well—it doesn't. Not really.." Honestly, you're just curious to see what he looks like. You tap your finger on your chin.
Maybe like Venom? Nah, sounds too slimy. Maybe E.T.'s dad? You save this in your collection of thoughts to ponder about when you are alone.
"What exactly does the temperature of our leader's frame have to do with your curiosity?" Starscream mutters questioningly. You swear you almost cough up a lung. Is he stupid? How does he know what porn is and not this?
"Well, you know, first impressions and all that," You reply casually, hoping he doesn't catch on to the fact that you're actually trying to gauge if you're about to meet someone who could potentially be a bossy bottom or top.
Starscreams wings tittered slightly, as if to show the curiosity you piqued within him.
Curiosity... I've heard that in the context of a cat. You almost let out a laugh. His voice was monotone, but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in it.
"Well, if he's got a good sense of humor, he's gotta be hot!" You say, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe humor is universal. Starscream cant seem to grasp what you are getting at. Why did the temperature of the 'Almighty' Megatron matter to you? A lowly organic?
But instead of responding, he just shakes his head and resumes walking. The tension is thicker than a triple decker chocolate cake, topped with thick frosting at a wedding ceremony. The corridors of the Nemesis are eerie, with the occasional sound of gears whirring and footsteps echoing through the metal halls. It's like a giant robotic maze in here.
For a second, Starscream stops. Seemingly thinking to himself. You turn around to look up at him. Its so quiet, you don't want to speak and potentially upset him further. Plus, he finally shut up! You'll make the most of that.
He ex-vents and decides to relay his thoughts to you. "I've decided," he cranes his neck downwards to look at you.
"That I will decide your fate instead." He finishes simply, and turns to walk different halls of the Nemesis. Your heart jolts like it's been plugged into an amp. "Wait, what?!" You squeak, trying to keep up with his long strides. "You can do that?"
"I am second-in-command," Starscream says, his voice a mix of pride and irritation. "My judgment is almost as good as Megatron's. If not better." He whispers the last part out. 'Kay. Sheesh.
He doesn't say that he thinks Megatron would probably have his aft for keeping a secret human pet imprisoned on the ship.
But you can see it in his optics. Probably. Nah, you're just imagining things.
You're led through more corridors, each one more confusing than the last. The ship is like a giant, mechanical labyrinth that you're trapped in, and the minotaur is a giant robot with wings and a stick up his aft.
"Where are we going now?" You ask, your voice echoing off the metallic walls.
"To my hab-suite," Starscream replies, his tone as cold as the vacuum of space. "Where I can... question you further."
Um?! You kinda liked the sound of that!
"Your what now?" You question, your heart racing. You had no idea what a 'hab-suite' was, but it sounded fancy.
Starscream's servo tightens around you, and you try not to let the excitement show on your face. "You heard me," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My quarters. Where we can discuss your... situation."
You smirk evilly. Starscream is both confused and disgusted at your reaction.
"You find this... amusing?" He asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and annoyance. You laid your chin on your hand, steadying yourself on his servo. "What exactly about my.. 'situation' are we discussing, Screamy?" You thought of that nickname just now. Good job!
"Your affiliation with the Autobots, of course," Starscream says, his wings twitching slightly at the nickname. "And do not call me 'Screamy!'"
You bite back another smile. "Sorry, I guess 'Starscream' is just too much of a mouthful," you say, trying to keep the smugness out of your voice.
Starscream's grip tightens for a second before he relaxes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Surprisingly, he says,"I suppose it is," the first time you've heard anything close to amusement from him. "But do try to remember, human. I am not to be underestimated." He informs you, the doors to his hab-suite opening suspiciously like that of one in those space ship movies.
The room is surprisingly well kept, not what you'd expect from a robot who's basically the villain's right hand. You're set down on your feet, the cold metal of this room sending a shiver up your spine. You look around, trying to spot any signs of personal touch. Maybe a poster of 'My Little Pony' or a stash of energon lollipops.
Damn, this guy sucks! Not even a favorite band? No figurines?!
You shrug, playing it cool. "I guess not everyone can have peak taste." You smirk.
Starscream's optical ridge raises at that. "What exactly would you know about good taste?! Fleshlings like you cannot comprehend the enjoyment of Cybertronian culture!"
Wow! You didn't understand a fucking word in that sentence. Maybe you should take alien sign language as a side job?
But there was one word you recognized. 'Cybertronian.'
You heard the giant beings say that word a few times. "Cybertronian," You repeat, testing the unfamiliar word on your tongue. "So are you guys futuristic? Do you guys come from like— ...𝘊𝘺𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯?" Sounds like a movie were robots take over the world. Now that you're probably experiencing it, it doesn't sound too bad. You lie to yourself.
As you finish your sentence with the name of the planet his kind had once inhabited, memories resurface, flashing before his optics within his processor. He tosses you harshly onto a metal table hooked to the wall. What the fuck?! Again? Starscream remembers his time being a prince—still is— but that memory is too far back to feel the joy of his home planet's skies once more.
"You.." Starscream stomps bitterly towards your aching body and points an accusing digit at you. "How do you know of my planet?! Of Cybertron?! What other secrets are you hiding?" He grits his dentae with a sharp screeek and you wince. He places each of his arms around you like you're being 'kabe-don'ed in a cheesy romance show.
You swallow nervously. "Uh..."
You know you're trapped. Starscream brought you to his 'hab-suite'—whatever that is, and you're on a table! Tons of feet from the ground. You'd die before you even reach the edge to jump off. "Lucky guess?" You force a crooked smile and look up at him nervously.
How the fuck was I supposed to know 'Cybertron' was a reall thing? Sorry that everything ends in '-ian!'
The room's cold, unfeeling metal walls seem to close in on you as Starscream looms over you. The look in his optics is a mix of suspicion and anger. You try to keep your cool, but you can feel the sweat beads forming on your forehead. "It's just a... a human word," you stutter out, hoping it's a good enough lie. "It's like- like when we talk about our computers and futuristic stuff, we say 'cyber'."
Your trembling voice betrays you as you stutter over your words. Guuulp.
He furiously swipes his servo at you. Instincts taking over, you scramble your aching body to get up and run.
But Starscream's reflexes are much quicker than you anticipated. He catches your arm, yanking you back onto the cold, metallic surface. "Do not lie to me, human!" he snarls, his optics blazing with rage. "How do you know of Cybertron?"
You panic, tears beginning to swell up in your eyes.
"I'm being deadass! Google it or some shit! A shit ton of ethnicities here on earth end in like '-ian!' It's called a- a so-fix- Suffix. or- whatever!" You flail helplessly when you swear his digit is going to actually pierce your skin.
Starscream glowers, and seems to actually consider your response. You hope from here to above that all of these robots have some sort of built-in world wide web.
After a moment of tense silence, he responds.
"You're saying you have no affiliation with the Autobots?" He asks, his grip on your arm loosening slightly. Obviously? Had you not made that clear when Bumble Bitch crashed into you out of nowhere?
You nod vigorously, your heart beating like a drum in a death metal concert. "Yes! No affiliation!" You repeat, hoping your honesty isn't too much to swallow for this robotic hothead.
Starscream's optics bore into yours, searching for the slightest hint of deceit. The silence is so intense, you could hear a pin drop. Or maybe it's just your own racing thoughts, creating their own cacophony in your skull. This is like a staring contest of death. If you blink, no more rubber duckies in the bath, no more shitty home made chocolate from your brother, no nothing.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "Very well," he says, his voice low and gruff. "But know this, if I discover you are lying to me, your fate will not be as... pleasant as it could be." He releases you, and you can't help the sigh of relief that escapes your lips as your arm flops back to your side like a ragdoll's. Gosh.
"However," Oh come ooon! You've had enough of this for one day—or night. You've been on here for so long you've lost track of time. You forgot your phone at home just before you left with Mark to go to the mineshaft. This is another fine mess you've got yourself into.
"You are not leaving here. You know too much now to be let off." You lose all hope.
Nodding, your voice barely above a whisper, you responded. "I understand." You wish you did not.
Starscream's grip on your arm loosens, but before you can even think about bolting again, his digits squeeze your skin like unyielding metal bars that pinch your wrists on St. Patrick's Day. "You will be my guest until I am certain of your innocence." he says, his tone devoid of warmth.
"Uh-huh." Is all you reply with. Starscream doesn't correct your lack of respect, nor does he care enough to. He leaves his hab-suite without another word, the familiar echo of his pedes cutting out after a beat. Wow. You constantly feel like a child being put in time out for doing something wrong. And you didn't do anything wrong! You cried internally.
You look around the cold, metal room that is now your 'guest' suite. There's no bed, no TV, no nothing. Just a metal surface and a wall. Great. You sit on the table, contemplating your next move.
It's not like you could explore or even climb down to the floor.. surely you'd die due to activating some sort of mechanism.
But wait! You spot a tiny hole in the wall. It's just big enough for... a USB stick. No, not the imaginary one up your ass. Or maybe your finger. You wiggle your digit into the crevice. You grunt in dissatisfaction, your finger barely fits in the hole! Sighing, you retract it and crouch down to get to eye level with the hole.
It's then that you notice something shiny. A screen..? No.. You notice a red glowing dot.
The realization hits you like the worlds best orgasm. Except its from the deepest pits of hell.
Oh my god. It's a fucking camera. Something is watching me! Or- uh.. Starscream?
You shiver uncomfortably at the thought and quickly back away to the side, where you think the camera cannot see you. The thought of someone watching Starscream was weird. Did he know? Should you tell him? Maybe you'll stir up some juicy drama. Inner you says, 'Do it! Do it!' but real you thinks its not such a good idea.
But wait, if he didn't know, that could be your ticket out of here! You could tell him and he'd be so mad at whoever placed it that he'd just toss you to the side and go deal with that. Or he'd just toss you out of the ship. Either way, you're getting out of here.
You decide to play it safe for now. You sit down, cross your arms over your chest, and lean against the cold, metallic wall. You take deep breaths, trying to calm down. Ok, think. What do you do now?
As you ponder, time passes. Its as if there's Jeopardy music waiting for you to finish your thoughts.
You think of Mark, probably worried sick about you. Maybe he's got those Autobots to rescue you by now. You let out a sigh and look around the room. But.. what if they don't find me? What if I'm stuck here forever? Thoughts go in and out of your mind like raindrops.
Forever is a long time. You need to be careful with your words. You just might lose it if you're ever talking to yourself like this again.
You shift uncomfortably, then you end up laying on your side. Alas, fate fucks you over once again, and you feel the consequence of your actions pierce you in the thigh. Literally.
The fragment of energon you picked up was still tucked deep within your pocket, safe and sound. Knockout had never touched it due to your terrible, terrible excuse. At least it worked. You sigh, pleased to know that your mouth has once again, helped you out in a dangerous situation.
You sit there for what feels like hours, listening to the occasional robotic footsteps outside the hab-suite, and wondering what the actual fuck you've gotten yourself into. You're pretty sure you didn't sign up for 'Getting abducted by hot aliens'on your bucket list. Or maybe you did. You're pretty forgetful sometimes.
The cold from the metal wall seeps into your skin, making you shiver. Great, now I'm going to get hypothermia. You think to yourself. But, as you sit there, you start to feel... something. It's not just fear anymore. It's a weird mix of excitement and curiosity. You've always been the kind of person who can't resist poking a beehive just to see what happens, and here you are, smack dab in the middle of one. Well, one filled with aliens.
'Make the most of it! Explore! Do some dangerous shit!' Evil you cant seem to leave you alone, pestering you with enthusiasm and a hint of murderous intent.
You decide to heed the voice in your head for once. Slowly, you jump up, your feet landing on the table with a loud thump that echoes through the room. You tiptoe over to the hole you found earlier, your heart racing. You poke your finger back in, and the red light doesn't falter.
Does that mean its watching me..? Or is it always like that..
You moved closer to the wall with the camera, trying to get a better look without being too obvious. You lean in and whisper, "You know, if you're gonna spy on me, the least you could do is turn on some music or something."
A beat of silence. Wow. How rude! Oh well, maybe it was on break, or something.
You retreat to the table and lay back down. You're pretty sure you're not going anywhere soon, so you might as well get comfortable. Plus, you had that weird, shiny object in your pocket. It's like finding a quarter in the couch cushions, but way cooler. You remembered the faint glow of crystal energon within Starscream's hands in the shaft.
Heh. Space glowstick. You don't question its origins, or how it got to your planet. You are simply bored out of your mind.
You pull out the fragment and hold it up to the dim light of the hab-suite. It's mesmerizing, like a tiny star in your hand. You can feel a faint pulse of energy from it, almost alive. You know you shouldn't touch it, but the curiosity wins over your fear. It's surprisingly warm to the touch, which is weird because it's just a rock. Right?
..Hmm. You should.. eat it. The voice whispers to you.
No! Don't submit!
'..Eat it.' The voice says again. It's like its calling out to you. 'Eat me, eat me!' A cute voice in your mind says. 'No! Eat me bitch!' the other voice is one you think a T-Rex would have. You imagine two energon crystals fighting for the glory of being inside your stomach.
Stop it! You want to— don't want to eat it! It could leave irreversible effects on your body!
'Eat it!' The voice screams at you. Louder this time.
Oh, it was actually just your stomach growling. It urges you to eat. Feast on the energon, if you must.
Ignoring the voice, you decide to keep the fragment safe. You slip it back into your pocket, feeling its warmth through the fabric. You wonder what it tastes like, but quickly shake off the thought. I'm not going to eat something that could probably turn me into a robot. Nope. Nope nope nope.
'Mm..'
The nagging voice does not leave you to your devices.
'Eat it,' It whispers, more urgent than before. 'Eat it!' It calls your name this time. Huh. Maybe you really are going crazy.
But, your stomach grumbles again. Well, it's either that or starve. You decide to..
Okay, let's try this again, with feeling this time.
You pull out the fragment, looking at it with a mix of fear and curiosity. It's small, just about the size of your palm. That's actually pretty big. Are you really gonna eat this? You question yourself, second thoughts pouring in.
You swallow, hard. You bring it closer to your face, inspecting it. It doesn't smell like much, just a faint scent of deep earth. Reminds you of those crystal rock candies. Looks yummy.
Here I go.. Fuck me if I'm wrong, celestial robo-gods!
You bite down on the energon, feeling it crack between your teeth. It's surprisingly not bad. It tastes... like sprite. Like a refreshing, sour sprite that freeze-dried in a cave. You chew on it more, tiny crystals breaking up in your mouth before swallowing, the taste lingering in your mouth.
Whew! That wasn't so hard, was it? If they get to eat this all the time, I guess I wouldn't mind being a sexy robot, either.
And so, you sat there. Thinking about the effects the tiny rock could have on you. It didn't taste bad, that's for sure. So maybe, probably, you weren't going to die.
But what if you turned into a robot? Would you get to keep your personality? Would you get to keep the memes on your phone? Would you still have the same personality?
Would you acquire a cyber-cock?! These were the real questions.
You try to push the ridiculousness of the situation out of your mind. Okay, you've eaten space rock. Now what? You're not immediately bursting into robotic bits, so that's a plus. You think about it a little bit more, but the more you do, the more you feel your sanity slipping away. What's done is done, you suppose.
The room is eerily quiet, aside from the occasional distant clank of robotic footsteps. You can't help but wonder if there's any way to communicate with the outside world. Surely, there has to be some sort of intergalactic hotline, right? You decide to keep the energon you just ate a secret.
Standing to your feet, you cautiously walk over to that hole in the wall again.
"Hey, spy guy!" You whisper loudly. "If you're there, tell me, what's the Wi-Fi password?"
Why are you even asking? You forgot your phone, remember? Minutes of silence pass. You grow bored. And you do bad things when you're bored. Real bad. The consumption of an energon crystal a clear example of that.
Or not, it seems. You start to feel sleepy, the energy from all that struggling and running earlier finally catching up to you. Hopefully you wake up in the morning, or whenever your alarm clock is set to, you've long forgotten now.
Starscream really hates his job.
More specifically, serving under Megatron. If it weren't for that damned warmonger, the seeker would be the rightful leader of the Decepticons! He would constantly lead his faction to energon deposits, taking them before any Autobot scum could get their ragged servos on them.
But alas, here he was, babysitting a human. And not even a particularly interesting one at that. You had a strange sense of humor, sure, but you were a mere mortal. Weak. Insignificant. And yet... you had somehow managed to get under his armor. He recalls the times you.. what was it that relative of yours called it? Ah—yes, 'flirted with him'" It seems he would have to do his academic work on this race, if it means he could manipulate them to his desire.
He grumbles to himself as he walks the Nemesis' halls.
How does she do it?
Starscream had to admit, you were unlike any human he had ever encountered. Your fearlessness in the face of danger and your unwavering ability to make light of the situation was both infuriating and... intriguing. He couldn't decide if he wanted to strangle you or study you.
But as thoughts swirled around like dust in his processor, he recalled he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Starscream makes his way to the communications officer.
"Soundwave," he barks, his voice echoing through the corridor, "What have you found?"
The communications officer, a sleek black and purple Decepticon with a chest that opens to reveal a vast array of screens, swivels to face Starscream. The blank stare of his faceplate, which Starscream finds unnecessary, screen a pitch black before he responds, his voice a jumbled mix of every bot on the ship.
"Statement: No Autobots in vicinity."
Starscream growls. Obviously!
"I know that!" He snaps. "But what of the signal? The one that led us to the mine?"
Soundwave looks back at the screens before him, then at Starscream. Then again. Then again. And again. As if he's blinking.
Starscream is growing increasingly impatient.
"Well?" he demands, arms now crossed and his pede tapping the metal floor. How sassy.
Soundwave's screens flicker to life again, displaying a map of Jasper, Nevada. "Signal: traced to a localized point in the mine," he reports, his voice a monotonous drone. "Analysis: High probability of an Autobot presence."
Starscream is not pleased. His optics now thin lines as he talks to the TIC. He makes a face as if to say, 'are you fucking with me right now?'
"The energon was perfectly untouched when I arrived there!"
Soundwave's response is met with a sharp hiss from Starscream. "Find them," he commands, his voice as sharp as a serrated blade. "And notify me the moment you have a lock."
Without missing a beat, Soundwave nods and diverts his attention back to the screen. Almost like an IPad kid with cheetos. He's actually jamming out to music somewhere in his processor, but he won't admit it. Human melody isn't as bad as it seems, Soundwave concludes.
In the corner of one of the screens, a small rectangle of light is shown. A human asleep in the confines of Starscream's hab-suite. Soundwave watches with curiosity, listening to the human mumble incoherent words in their sleep.
While Soundwave works his magic, Starscream paces the room. You're in the Nemesis, but you're not the priority anymore. He's too busy trying to figure out why the fuck the Autobots were at that mine. It's like they're playing hide and seek with him, and he's the kid who forgot to count to twenty.
Just what is going on?
It turns out you didn't get that much sleep, because when you wake up, everything looks the same. And Starscream had yet to return. You didn't even get to dream! How boring.
You open your mouth, a yawn threatening to escape. But no! You sneeze everywhere.
Oh, you've gotta be shitting me. You mentally scold yourself for eating that energon, because what if it just gave you some kind of robo-virus?!
Or—wait! Someone could be talking about you! Aw, how thoughtful! Hopefully it's nothing bad. Hopefully it's.. your brother.
Your emotions swirl like a tornado in a paint factory as you sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to compose yourself. The cold metal room is as uncomfortable as a bed of nails, and the camera's glowing red dot feels like it's burning a hole through your skull. You decide to give it another shot. "Hey—you got any juicy gossip for me? Like, anything I can listen to? I know you can hear me, guy in the wall!" You whisper into the hole, hoping to get some kind of reaction.
You think to yourself, How absurd. I'm talking to something inside a hole. You snort.
And again, to no avail does the universe listen to your plea. You're only met with silence.
Go back to sleep. Evil you says.
Well, okay.
But suddenly, the cue of music—in your head, not a speaker, interrupts your inner dialogue.
What the actual fuck is going on? Did I just sneeze into the wall and it triggered something inside me? Maybe you should do it again! You try to force a sneeze, but unfortunately for you, that isn't possible. Aw, shucks. It seems your mind will do anything to distract you from your situation. You appreciate it. Thanks, me. You're welcome, me.
The silence is killing you, so you decide to keep yourself entertained. You start to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' because it's the only thing that pops into your head. But it doesn't take long for you to get tired of that, so you start to make up your own lyrics.
"Let me ouuuut!" You say in a singsong voice, pertaining to your current, unfortunate situation.
"Or I'll leave you withouuut,"
You stand up.
"Your left ball,"
Walking around, you look up and sing to whoever is listening.
"And leave you to burn in hell because fuck you!" The final line comes out strained because of how loud you are attempting to sing, desperate for someone to hear you. If it was guy in the wall, you aren't that sorry. Your arms fall at your sides. This it it. You're really going crazy now. 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' is the last song you're ever going to hear. You flop back down onto the hard metal, tracing little letters made of air.
And you guess the gods really are listening, because music starts playing!
"I Was Made For Lovin' You" kicked up on the speakers, wherever they were. Impressive! Whoever chose this song had impeccable taste. You started humming along.
But the joy was short-lived. The music cut out abruptly, replaced by a sinister chuckle that seemed to come from every corner of the room. "Ah, human. You do know how to entertain." Starscream's voice echoed in your ears and the hab-suite.
No!! Put it back on! Not this scratchy excuse of an insect! Anything but him! You plead internally.
"You seem in distress human, I sha—" His voice is cut off by the music continuing where it left off. Thank you, mechanical space god, now my ears can rest. But then it is cut off again! Stop intruding my personal me time, Starshitter, it's disrespectful.
"Stop it! Play the music again. I wanna hear!" You demand. Yeah, as if robots were gonna listen to you. To your surprise, it does! Hooray!
The speakers crackle back to life, filling the room with the sweet sound of KISS. You smile, feeling a sense of victory over Starscream's annoying interruptions. Take that, you Decepticum dick!
Starscream's irritating voice booms again. Though, it comes out as static, fading in and out between the song and him. "Soundw—— Quit th—t! I will not he—tate to repo— to Lord Me—tron about this!" the speaker crackles.
Sound? Hmm.. Now who could that be? Well, that's a question for another time, you suppose. Right now, the sound of Starscream not getting his way is quite peaceful. You drift off into slumber, and hope you don't wake up. Or you start dreaming.
Because this will probably be your life from now on. You silently remind yourself.
Starscream is quite amused. Soundwave, indulging in a human? Ridiculous! Megatron must hear about this immediately.
"Soundwave," he calls through the comms, his voice a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "What is the meaning of this? Why is there human music playing directly to my hab-suite?" He says, just meters away from the doors that a human is held prisoner inside of.
Starscream is completely and utterly irritated to say the least.
He stomps into his hab-suite, his metallic skin echoing off the metal floors like gunshots. "What is the meaning of this?" He snaps.
You awake with a scare. You didn't even get like, ten minutes, you're sure!
This. Is. So. Fucking. Unfair! You cry out to yourself and the demons inside you.
"What the fuck?!" You yell, jumping off the table. The music had stopped, but apparently so had Starscream's attempt at keeping you in check. You look around frantically, expecting the worst. Starscream has his arms up in the air, like a kid whose angry at their friend for breaking their toy.
"I know you are still messing with my hab-suite's speakers, cease immediately." He says, his voice booming. But you know better. It's not some random Decepticon messing with the music—it's probably that spy guy you talked to earlier! Well, you mean— it probably is a Decepticon, but a nice one! Or one that pitied you.
Starscream wants to tear his audials out. If Soundwave wanted to be annoying, then he will. It wasn't like Lord Megatron would believe him over his TIC, anyway.
He storms over to the wall, his servo reaching out to the spot where the music had been playing. His servo slaps and scratches against the cold metal, his temper rising. You flinch, Damn bro, it wasn't that deep.
"Soundwave!" He snarls into the coms, his patience wearing thinner than a cheap pair of human underwear. "You will turn that music off or I will rip your circuits out!"
Ah, there it was! Soundwave! You couldn't hear it over the static earlier, but you make a mental note of that name for later. Damn! Okay, let's not get on Starshitter's bad side, you conclude.
The music comes to a stop. Maybe a different song will be played next time.
Starscream turns to you, his eyes narrowing. "Human, do you have something to say for yourself?"
Alright, you were fed up. None of this is your fucking fault!. You stand up, rub the tiredness out of your eyes and confront Starscream, face to faceplate. How romantic.
"Look, you metallic piece of shit, I didn't ask to be here!" You shout, throwing your hands in the air. "And if you interrupt my beauty sleep again, I'm gonna start throwing your little minions out of the airlocks!" Okay, maybe not, but the thought does cross your mind. The smaller purple robots don't even deserve it! Why would you say that?!
Despite his immediate dissatisfaction, you continue your rant.
"I didn't ask to be a snack for your robotic taste buds, or to be stuck in a room that looks like the inside of a USB stick! You use those words too much. "I had plans, you know? Like, real plans that didn't include being a science project for a bunch of hot, sexy, and slightly handsome alien robots! And what the hell is up with that creepy doctor guy? He's got more issues than a comic book store, and I'm pretty sure he's not even qualified to look at humans, let alone poke and prod me like I'm some kind of alien petri dish!" You throw your arms up in exasperation, your voice bouncing off the cold metal walls.
Your gaze is fierce, and you're struggling to breathe after saying all that. You think it's only been a few hours, but the lack of food and water— and a shower is really getting to you.
Starscream is startled. How dare you raise your voice at him? The look on his faceplate is a mix of surprise and anger. "You will watch your tongue, human," he warns, his voice as sharp as a serrated blade. "You are in no position to make threats."
Annoyed and completely fucking done with this, you throw your arms up in the air, your voice taking on a sarcastic tone. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Starscream," you seethe. "It seems that I don't give two flying shits anymore!" Your voice raising in pitch with each word.
Reasonable crashout. You tell yourself.
You march over to the camera, pointing at it accusingly. "You've been watching me this whole time, haven't you?" You lean closer, whispering conspiratorially. "Help me out here! Like, A Wi-Fi password would be nice." You say again, because you might have a plan for future you.
Starscream's voice cuts through the room, cold and hard. "Cease your insubordination." His voice drops down several octaves like before, hot. But you're on a roll now, and the sleep deprivation isn't helping your filter.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt your robot plans for taking over the world?" You say, smiling sweetly. "Maybe if I knew what I'd done wrong, I'd be more cooperative!" You snap at him.
The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. And drop it does, from a vent above. It's a small, insignificant event, but it feels like the universe is laughing at you. Starscream stares at you, his red optics burning with rage. But you don't flinch. You've dealt with worse than a giant robot that thinks he's hot shit.
Well, he kinda is. You argue with yourself.
No, stop it! Don't let it win. You're becoming maniacal within the span of a day.
Starscream steps closer to you, his shadow looming over you like a dark cloud. "You have no idea what you're talking about, human," he says, his voice low and menacing. "But your insolence will not be tolerated."
Before you can even react, he grabs you by the arms and lifts you off the ground. Panic sets in as he carries you out of the room, his grip like a vice. What the fuck? Again?! You struggle, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
"Let me go, you giant metal- inverted asshole!" You scream, kicking your legs wildly. But Starscream is unfazed, even at the nickname. Wow. His strides long and purposeful as he takes you through the corridors of the Nemesis. The lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows on the floor as you pass.
You're not sure where he's taking you this time. Is it back to that cold, uncomfortable examination table with the creepy doctor, Prince Sidon? Or is it somewhere worse? Had Starscream changed his mind about what he wished to do with you? The anticipation is like claws at your neck, grating on every part of your being. And Starscream? He's as silent as a mouse in a library. No quips, no explanations—just cold, hard silence. It's eerie, like he's turned into a robotic version of the grim reaper. He kind of is, you tell yourself.
You start to feel the coldness of his servo through the thin fabric of your clothes. The corridors are like the veins of some giant metal beast, and you're just a tiny blood cell being pumped around by its cruel whims. You feel like you're shrinking under the gaze of the seeker. The lights flicker ominously, playing tricks on your already frazzled mind.
God dammit! Why is my life like some fucked up slasher movie?!
You shiver, the cold metal floor of the corridor sending a chill up your spine as Starscream's heavy footsteps resonate throughout the ship. The grip on your body is tight, but not painful. It's almost like he's trying not to hurt you. Almost.
The thought of a torture chamber crosses your mind and you can't help but wonder if it's just your overactive imagination or a very real possibility.
Think of happy things, like—like gambling! Yes! Win until you can't anymore!
You shut your eyes tight, imagining yourself in a casino.
'Aw, dang it!'
Dream you doesn't get a triple seven the first time. You go again.
'Come on, jackpot! I'll moan for you if that's what it takes!'
Dream you still does not hit the jackpot.
Starscream looks at you indecorously. 'What in Vos' name is she doing?' He wonders.
Dream you grumbles, determined to win. Your luck shan't deter you.
'Go, Go, Go!'
The slot machine's blurry images in your imagination are a flurry of colors as they randomize your final gamble.
'And.. Holy shit! You won the ja—'
"Human. We are here." Starscream's annoying voice interrupts your fantasy. 'Hey! I'm in the fantasy too!' A suspiciously Peter Griffin shaped Starscream says in your mind. You opened your eyes and realized you probably looked constipated to the little purple guys on your way there, but you could care less.
"You'd do well to compose yourself," Starscream says, his voice echoing through the cold, metal corridor of the Nemesis as he stops abruptly outside a large, foreboding door. "Our leader does not appreciate disheveled guests." Oh, so he did change his mind.
In reality, Starscream is afraid to upset his Lord, even if he may be angry with him for having a human, anyway. But that is his secret and his secret alone.
You hesitate, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You're about to meet the big bad guy himself, Megalodon. But what the fuck do you say to a giant robot that probably has more issues than the comic book store you wish you were at right now? Just like Knock-knock!
You gulp. Well, you hope he's some average robo-king sitting on his robo throne, sipping energon tea, and watching his favorite robo-jester pluck his wires out as comedy. But, knowing your luck, you're probably about to be tossed into a gladiatorial arena or something.
You take a deep breath, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes and mentally rehearsing your introduction. Do you bow to a robot? You wonder. Probably not, unless it's the kind of bow that's more like a WWE move.
The door opens like magic before Starscream, and he allows you space to breathe on his servo, the ache of the pressure on your bruised body easing slightly. You get a glimpse of what's beyond—a massive chamber with a throne at the far end, surrounded by various Decepticons. Your heart skips a beat. This is it.
Lord Megastoned in all his glory sits on his throne, a hulking mass of black and silver metal, his eyes glowing a menacing red. He looks more like a walking tank than a king, but you're not about to argue with the guy who could crush you with his pinky finger. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of oil and metal that permeates the room.
This is like medieval times, but for cars. And jets, you joke.
As you're brought closer to the throne, you can't help but feel a weird sense of... awe? It's like he's got some kind of magnetic pull that's making your heart race and your palms sweat. This is ridiculous, you scold yourself. I should be scared, not swooning. But the more you look at him, the more you realize that underneath all that metal, there's something... attractive about him.
His sharp features and stoic demeanor scream power and authority, but there's a hint of something else—pain, perhaps? Or maybe it's just the lack of sleep and the weird energon crystal that's messing with your head.
Starscream nearly fails to take another step forward. No bot notices, but you do. Even though he's basically blown your ears out, and not your back, like no tomorrow, you've noticed he's struggled with his own things, too.
And you honestly can't help but feel bad for the guy.
Is this some weird, next level case of Stockholm? You wonder.
Megatron's gaze sweeps over you, his optics cold and assessing. You stand as straight as you can, trying to look as regal as a human in a torn t-shirt can. The room is eerily silent, the only sound the steady thrum of the ship's engines. It's like everyone's holding their breath, waiting for the king to speak.
Your eyes scan the room. Looks like nobody is here to share your problems. Dude? Why am I the only human here? Couldn't they get anybody else besides me? It's kind of lonely..
You're brought before Megatron, the king of the Decepticons— who, might you add— looks like an absolute unit! Damn, Starscream was hiding allat? Starscream releases his grip. Your knees wobble, but you manage to stand your ground. The room is filled with a mix of tension and curiosity, the air thick with the scent of oil and the faint hum of the ship's power core.
You clear your throat, ready to charm the robotic socks off Megaboob. "Hi, I'm—" But Starscream, ever the party pooper, cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. Rude ass bitch.. You had that planned out and everything! "Lord Megatron, i-if I may present to you the human that received help from the Autobots?" He says, his voice clipped and formal. A few stutters here and there.
Damn, what a mood swing! Though, you probably would've done the same thing if that was you.
Megatron's optics narrow, and you feel like you're being sized up for a BBQ. "I am aware," he says, his voice a deep rumble that resonates through the chamber. "Soundwave has already informed me of your actions." Starscream's swears he feels his spark diminish.
"You speak boldly for one in your position, human." Megatitty remarks.
Put me in my place, please! Horny you is requesting to take over.
"I'm sorry, I—I didn't mean to—" you stutter, trying to regain your composure. "It's just... I'm not used to all this," you gesture to the grandiose room and the sea of Decepticons staring at you. "I mean, I'm just a simple human who lives in Jasper, not exactly the kind of place where you meet alien robot royalty," you add with a forced chuckle, trying to ease the tension.
I could be the jester to his title of king! Just not robotic, though. You smirk.
Megatron's expression doesn't change, but there's something in his gaze that makes you feel like he's trying to read you like a book. "Indeed," he says, his tone flat. "Your kind has a habit of underestimating us."
Starscream's optics flicker between you and Megatron rapidly, as if he's scared of what might happen next. More like he's worried about what you might say. Damn right, he should be. Your mouth can't stay closed for shit.
You can almost feel his anxiety radiating off him like heat from a sun-baked sidewalk. You decide to play it cool. "Well, you've gotta admit, it's a bit of a shock," you reply with a shrug, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I mean, one minute I'm out for a jog, and the next, I'm being examined by a robot doctor and listening to your boy band playlist."
Starscream sneers at you, but opts to stay quiet.
"Your... jests are not appreciated here," Megatron says, his voice as cold as the metal around you. "Your kind are weak, easily swayed by fear and ignorance. Yet, you stand before me with a... certain spirit. It intrigues me."
You mean arouses you, right? Cause that's what you do to me.
Megatron's comment hangs in the air, and you bite your tongue to keep from blurting out something inappropriate. Okay, maybe not the best time for jokes. You try to play it cool, giving a nod. "I guess you could say that," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But, I've got a pretty strong stomach for surprises."
The door only meant for giants opens again, and this time, the doctor of the year comes through!
Knockout walks up on the other side of Starscream. "My Liege, I—" His optics find you in the room. He is absolutely disgusted and his voice is as sweet as a sugar-coated shit flying in the wind. "—have completed the initial assessment. The human is... surprisingly resilient." He manages to squeak out.
"That's cool. I think I know that already. Is there anything else that's cool about me?" You boldly ask, crossing your arms over your chest. The room is so tense that even the screws in the walls feel it, and you can see some of the Decepticons shift uncomfortably in their places. Even spy guy, who you're sure is watching you from the heavens.
𝘖𝘩𝘰𝘩𝘰, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵.
Megatron's optics bore into Knockout, and the doctor flinches. "Your findings?" He barks out, his tone leaving no room for pleasantries. Knockout's smile falters a bit, but he quickly recovers.
"She's... adaptable," Knockout says, his voice smoother than ever. "Her body has shown remarkable signs of resistance to our scanning technology. It's almost as if she's... enjoying the experience."
You sputter. That is not what happened! He literally gave you some pats on the back with his slender, robotic fingers and called it a day.
"I assure you, I'm not enjoying anything here," you say, trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. "But, I do have a knack for making the best out of a bad situation."
Megatron's gaze sharpens, and for a moment, you're sure he can see right through your bravado. "Your brother," he says, his voice a low growl. "He is the one who sought the aid of the Autobots. He is a fool to believe they are anything but our enemies."
No! They know Mark, too?! You thought it was just Starscream! Ugh, he probably told everyone in the ship. His fat ass mouth!
You swallow hard, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "Look, I don't know anything about Autobots or Decepticons. I'm just here because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." You lie, you and Mark are nosy as fuck.
Megatron leans back on his throne, steepling his fingers. "Perhaps," he says, his optics never leaving you. "But your spirit... your ability to find humor in the darkest of moments... it is something we could use."
Starscream jumps in shock, nearly dropping you. 'How could this fleshling be of any use at all?!' He thinks. His processor is going to explode from his leader's rash decisions.
Knockout's engine sputters, kind of like a cough, and you realize you're not the only one who didn't see that coming. "Use?" You repeat, trying to play dumb. "What do you mean?"
The little purple dudes, who you still don't know the names of, huddle around eachother and gossip.
'No way, there's going to be a human in our ranks!'
'I hope it doesn't mess with my tools!'
'Do you think its going to start ordering us around?'
You can almost hear the little purple dudes whispering behind you, their tiny robotic voices like a chorus of disapproval. But, you've got a bigger fish to fry— or, in this case, a giant, big-boobed robot king to deal with.
"I'm sorry, but I think there's been a misunderstanding," you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I'm not exactly looking for a job. I have a life back on Earth, you know. A job, friends—"
Megatron's gaze is unyielding. "Your life as you know it is over. Whether you wish to cooperate or not, you will serve a purpose here."
Starscream's voice booms, cutting through the tension. "Lord Megatron, with all due respect, a human has no place among us!" His grip on you tightens, a silent message of his own frustration. You can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation without defying Megabitch.
You nod eagerly, playing along. "Yes, exactly what he said! I'm just a simple Earthling looking for Wi-Fi and maybe a decent cup of coffee!" You laugh nervously. "I'm sure you guys have much more important things to do than babysit me, right?" You chuckle nervously.
I don't belong here! I belong down there, with the humans! Waiting for our impending demise!
Megatron's expression remains unchanged. "Your humor is... peculiar," he says, his voice a low rumble. "But your courage is undeniable. I suspect it is your bond with your brother that gives you such spirit." Wow. Straight through your heart. How cold.
The mention of Mark sends a stab of pain through you. You swallow hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. You hadn't realized how much you missed him until now. The thought of never seeing him again, of being trapped here on this metal monstrosity of a spaceship with a bunch of robots—it's almost too much to bear.
Stop bringing him up, please! You silently scream. But the words keep coming, a stark reminder that you're a prisoner, a pawn in some cosmic game you never asked to be a part of. Your heart feels like it's going to break, like someone's crushing it in a vice grip made of cold, harsh reality.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you say, your voice shaky. "My brother and I are just... close." You force a smile, trying to keep your voice light. "But I'm sure you guys have plenty of important robot stuff to do without me getting in the way."
But Megatron isn't fooled. He can see the determination in your eyes, the same fire that burns in a certain Prime's optics. "You will be returned to Earth," he says finally, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "But not before you serve a purpose."
Your heart skips a beat. Serve a purpose? What the actual fuck does that mean? You try to keep your cool, but the idea of being used by these giant metal assholes is not sitting well with you. Well, in the working sense, at least.
"And what purpose might that be?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The room goes quiet, the only sound the constant hum of the ship's systems. It's like everyone's holding their breath, waiting for Megatron to drop the bomb. Or that ass.
Please don't make me clean up cyber toilets!
Megatron's expression remains unreadable, a mask of cold steel. The silence in the room is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife, and everyone's attention is on you like you're the main course at a robotic banquet. You feel like you're in a game of poker, except you're playing with a royal flush of shit cards.
"Your purpose will be revealed in due time," Megatron says, his voice a low, ominous rumble that seems to shake the very floor beneath you. "For now, you will remain in our custody."
You can't help but let out a groan. "Seriously?" you murmur under your breath, unable to hide your sarcasm. "So— let me get this straight. You abducted me, brought me here, and now you're keeping me for... what? To be your new pet?" You roll your eyes, trying to keep the fear from your voice. "I don't do well on leashes, FYI." Your voice raises.
But I'll gladly bark for you. You proceed to slap yourself five times. Internally.
Starscream's grip on you tightens again, his frustration at your continued cheekiness palpable. "Silence, human," he hisses in your ear.
Stop doing that! I might like it.
"Okay then."
You stand before Megatron, trying to keep your cool as his words hang in the air like a sword of Damocles. The room is so silent, you could hear a pin drop—if there were pins in a room full of robots. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing for whatever 'purpose' he has in mind. But instead, you decide to throw a wrench in the gears.
With a dramatic flair that would put a Shakespearean actor to shame, you drop to one knee and place your hand over your heart. "Oh, mighty Megatron," you proclaim, your voice dripping with so much sarcasm it could flood a desert. "I am but a lowly human, unworthy of the grand designs you weave. But if I am to serve, I shall do so with the grace and dignity of a... well, a human."
Knockout's optics widen at your words, and for a fraction of a second, you swear you see a glint of amusement. He almost laughs, but catches himself, the sound dying in his throat like a robotic chuckle strangled by a USB cable. Wow. A lotta those on this ship, huh?
When Big-Tittytron doesn't respond, you continue.
"But, if I'm going to be of any use, I require sustenance," you say with a smirk. "Food, water, and a decent bath would be much appreciated."
Megatron's optics flicker, and for a moment, you think he might just laugh. But instead, he nods curtly. "Your demands will be met," he says, his tone still cold but with a hint of something else. Maybe it's amusement, or maybe it's just the sound of his circuits overloading from your audacity. Damn, I'm good.
Starscream makes a choking sound—something akin to surprise or perhaps anger—you're not quite sure, but you keep your cool. "Fantastic," you say, popping back up to your feet. "I'll take that as a yes, then." You shoot Megatits a wink, which earns you another squeeze from Starscream.
The room seems to collectively inhale, as if your cheeky behavior had sucked all the air out of the room. The tension is palpable, thick enough to slice with a butter knife. Or a laser sword. Or their version of a futuristic, robotic sex toy that has thoughts and feelings.
Megatron's expression doesn't change, but you can almost feel his amusement. It's like you've just told the world's worst joke at the world's most serious funeral. "Very well," he says, his voice a deep rumble that echoes through the chamber.
"You will be provided for. But do not mistake kindness for weakness, human. You are a guest of the Decepticons now, and your actions will determine your fate."
You smirk, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. Guest, right. The thought of being in their custody isn't exactly what you had in mind for your weekend. But, if playing along gets you what you want, you can pretend to be the robot equivalent of a house pet for a little while.
"And, uh- One more question!" You call out as Starscream starts to drag you away. "Where do I sleep?"
Megatron's optics bore into you, and for a moment, you think he might actually crack a smile or potentially blast you to smithereens. But, alas, it's the stoic robot face again. "You will be provided with accommodations," he says. "Starscream will see to it."
Your eyes widen with devious intent as you spin around to bore into Starscream's optics. Oh, Starscream! Your mind is already overflowing with ideas.
"Oh, will I now?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "And what kind of 'accommodations' are we talking about here?" You gesture to the cold, metallic room. "I'm more of a 'fluffy pillows and warm blankets' kind of girl."
Starscream's grip on you tightens, his irritation clear. "You will be given a cell suitable for your kind," he says through gritted teeth. "Do not push your luck."
The audacity!
"What?! No! I'll die if I don't sleep on a bed!" You protest dramatically, earning a few surprised gasps from the nearby Decepticons.
Starscreams gaze turns serious. "Are you.. being truthful?" Starscream tilts his helm. Do humans really perish from such a stark difference in recharging quarters?
"You betcha," You lie, trying to keep your voice steady. "We're pretty high maintenance. Can't you tell by the way we break down after eight hours without a nap?" You give him a cheeky grin, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. Maybe, just maybe, you can get a decent bed out of this. Or at least something that doesn't look like it'll give you metal splinters in your ass.
Megatron's gaze lingers on you, and for a moment, you think he might be considering your 'request'. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he turns away. "Starscream, ensure she is... comfortable," he says, the word sounding like a slap in the face.
Starscream feels like he's hit with the tip of the Nemesis! He cannot believe he must put in the effort for this low life being. Utterly ridiculous. He grits his dentae. "Fine," He says, his voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard. "You'll have a... 'human-friendly' cell."
"No cell." You countered. You kind of started to feel bad, but he was your captor!
"I need to be able to stretch my legs," You say with a grin, hoping he doesn't pick at you again. "Maybe a nice little couch or something?"
The room goes quiet again, and you can almost hear the gears in their heads grinding. It's like asking a cat to take you out for a walk on a leash—utterly absurd. But, you keep your smile plastered on, ready to charm the bolts off their robo-minds.
Megatron turns his gaze back to you, his optics narrowing. "Very well," he sighs, his voice as cold as the steel around you. "You will be given a... 'human-friendly' space. But do not think this is an invitation to cause trouble."
Niiice! Sweet deal!
Starscream's hold on your body turns into a full-on robotic death grip as he marches you out of the chamber. You try to keep the smug look off your face, but it's like trying to keep a balloon from floating—impossible. The little purple dudes whisper and scurry away, probably off to bet on how long you'll last before you're recycled into paperclips to keep their space documents together.
"S-starscream!" You hurriedly choke out. "S-Stop squeezing!" You never thought you'd say that at a time like this. "I feel like I'm gonna burst!"
And not from pleasure.
Starscream's grip loosens slightly, his dentae grinding so hard you're surprised they don't turn into dust. "Fine." he grumbles, leading you through the maze of corridors. You try not to let the fear show, but the cold, metallic walls seem to intimidate you, whispering of your inevitable fate.
You once again end up in Starscream's hab-suite, on the same metal table.
He places you down this time, instead of throwing you. You look up at him, waiting for him to say something.
"Do not move," orders you, his voice as sharp as the edges of his jet mode. "Do not touch anything." It's like he's worried you're going to break their space-aged tech with a single flick of your finger.
Like I even know how to use half this shit! You want to retort but bite your tongue. It's like being told not to press the big red button. You just want to press it so badly. And by it you mean Starshitter.
You look around the room, trying to find something, anything to focus on that isn't the angry jet in front of you. Your eyes land on a shelf filled with what looks like robotic knickknacks. There's a tiny Decepticon logo paperweight, a model spaceship that probably costs more than your entire house, and a... is that another USB stick?
Again?! What is your obsession with these?! You snicker to yourself, imagining plugging it into Starscream's ear and watching him have a robotic seizure. What if he's actually into that? Would you still do it?
But the joke is on you when Starscream turns back to you, his expression unreadable. "Your human needs are... unusual," he says, his voice a mix of confusion and annoyance. "But we will accommodate them."
Thanks, big and angry.
With a grumble that you can feel in your very core, he turns and exits his hab-suite, his wings folding back with a metallic click. The door hisses shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cold, sterile room. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way your heart is hammering against your ribs like it's trying to break free.
For a moment, the silence is deafening. You're surrounded by all these fancy gadgets and gizmos, but all you can think about is the comfort of your own bed, the smell of fresh laundry, and the taste of a decent cup of coffee. But here you are, in the middle of a Decepticon ship, trying to charm your way to a decent night's sleep.
Though, Starscream decides to check in one more time.
Starscream's voice echoes through the intercom, "Do not move," He repeats. "I will be back shortly with... suitable accommodations."
Suitable? What does he even mean by that?! You muse, looking around the room. Your thoughts drift to the worst-case scenario: a tiny human-sized box, plucked from a suburban street, filled with a stolen twin bed and a lava lamp. You shiver at the thought, but you've seen weirder shit on TV.
You take the opportunity to examine the room in more detail. It's surprisingly neat for someone who throws such a tantrum. There's a sleek desk with a holographic interface, a rack of weapons that look like they could blow your planet to bits, and a very suspicious looking chair that you swear has seen more action than you. I really wish that were me. You decide to sit on the table again, wrapping your arms around your knees to keep from touching anything that might zap you into oblivion.
The silence is eerie, but it's also oddly comforting. It's like the ship is holding its breath, waiting to see what you'll do next. You lean back, closing your eyes and letting your head making a thunk! against the cold metal. And, for the third time that day, you drift off to sleep. It's a weird mix of exhaustion and adrenaline, like your body is trying to process the fact that you've probably seen more robot dick online than a real robot would in it's entire life.
This time, you do dream.
Your mind plunges into a whirlwind of vivid colors and impossible shapes, a stark contrast to the cold steel reality of the Decepticon ship. In this dream, you're back in Jasper, walking down main street with Mark by your side. The sun is shining, the air is warm, and the scent of freshly baked cookies drifts to your noses from the local bakery.
You laugh at a joke he tells, the sound echoing in the quiet streets. Probably a shitty one, too. Dream you's mind isn't connected with your real one. But then, the scene shifts, and suddenly, you're in the middle of a battlefield. Autobots and Decepticons clash around you, their metal bodies gleaming with the light of explosions. You scream for Mark, but he's nowhere to be found, and the roar of engines and clang of fists on metal drown out your voice.
This is your first time seeing the other Autobots, aside from Bumblebee and Bulkhead, but they're all a blur of metal and color in your dream. You can make out their silhouettes, but their faces are obscured by the chaos of the battle. They fight valiantly, their forms moving with a fluid grace that's mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. You know they're fighting for you, for your world, but you feel so small and insignificant amidst the clash of titans.
And then, you spot Mark. He's not fighting, but he's there, standing tall in the middle of it all. His eyes are closed, and you can almost hear him chanting something under his breath. The air around him crackles with energy, and for a moment, you wonder if he's turning into an alien, too. But no, that's just your brain playing tricks on you. Mark is human, and humans don't transform into vehicles. Mark isn't stupid enough to eat energon, unlike someone. Silly you!
But what if he did? What if he could come to rescue you, guns blazing and car parts flying? The thought brings a smile to your lips, even as the dream battle rages on. You know he's probably out there, trying to figure out a way to save you. The Autobots, with their noble intentions and cheesy one-liners, must be helping him. He's probably arguing over which of the cool cars he can drive. You snort. At least, you think you do. You feel like you're floating around in the mind of a body you cannot control.
Is dream me also going crazy? You wonder.
The scene shifts again, and you're standing in front of a giant, gleaming blue and red robot. It's talking to you, but you can't make out the words. They're muffled, as if you're underwater. You try to move closer, but your feet feel like they're stuck in quicksand. You're about to panic when you feel a sharp poke on your shoulder. You turn around, expecting to see Mark, but instead, it's a tiny, purple, floating shard of what you think is radioactive version of lipstick.
The battle fades into the background, and the chaos turns into a gentle lullaby that rocks you gently. The giant blue and red robot is speaking, but the words are as clear as whispers in a tornado. You feel a strange sense of comfort in the midst of the chaos. It's like a warm blanket wrapped around you, telling you that everything will be alright.
'Mark.. stay safe, okay?' Unspoken words between you and your brother just before you were taken.
In your dreaming state, you miss the familiar hiss of the hab-suite door opening, a certain hot-headed seeker bringing in all your organic necessities.
Notes:
first chapter and yoiu alreadyu get to meet boobytron? lucky you! but u wont be seeing more of him tho that was like a temporary thing. he'll come back in like a few millenia, i dont have that planned out LMFAO
Chapter 3: One Step Closer except you jump this time
Summary:
You receive a gift from your captors, and you love it! Starscream doesn't, though. It's okay, though, cause he won't be seeing any more of you today!
Notes:
short fucking chapter today holy shit sorry guys my mind is fucked out of ideas
and PLEASE for the love of god do not attempt anything in this chapter that reader does im begging you
Check the notes at the bottom for a little... surprise.
and if anyone, ANYONE out there catches all the little references i put into the titles, chapters, notes etc pls tell me i love finding ppl who know what im talking about
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You wake up after a while, in a very uncomfortable position at that. Though, you felt the soft threads of fabric surround your half-covered body. Huh. Were you home?
Hah! You wish. Ah, fuck. Did you get kidnapped a second time? Honestly, that could just be the case, seeing as things like this would probably become your new normal.
You sit up with a groan, rubbing your eyes, cracking your joints, and trying to blink the sleep away. The cold metal of the table is a stark contrast to the warmth of the fabric beneath you. You come to realize it's a real bed. A very un-Decepticon-like thing to have. Looking around, you expect to find Starscream standing over you with a smug grin, but you're met with nothing. The bed is a dark red, and it feels surprisingly cozy, almost like it's been stolen from a human home. You can pretty much smell the faint scent of laundry detergent. You really hope that's not the case.
Flopping back down to the bed, you run your fingers over the softness, and for a moment, you forget where you are. You just want to crawl under the covers—if there are any—and sleep for a week. But, you know you can't. You have to figure out what Megatron wants from you, and how to get back to Mark and Jasper.
Man, I really need some coffee... You roll around, trying to get comfortable on the surprisingly plush mattress. It's like rolling in a field of endless plush toys, if such a thing existed. You're not sure if it's the energon shard or just the sheer absurdity of the situation, but you're feeling... well, not exactly happy, but definitely more relaxed than you should be in an alien's room. The bed is actually more comfortable than you realize. How the hell did Starscream get his hands on this? You wonder.
Here's to hoping he didn't steal it from some rich person..
You straighten your body upright, suddenly remembering that you certainly did not fall asleep on a bed last night— or whatever time it was. Had Starscream actually put you to bed like some kind of barbie doll? Aww, how sweet! You'll nag him later for that.
You frantically check your body for any signs of damage—scratches, bruises, or the tell-tale signs of a robot's curiosity. But aside from the usual wear and tear from a day of being manhandled by titan sized extraterrestrials, you're surprisingly unscathed. You breathe a sigh of relief and let your body collapse back into the bed. Maybe I can just.. take a quick nap. Surely you mean one more month of sleep, right?
But no, you've got to face the music—or in this case, the clanking footsteps of one of your many captors probably coming back. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your shoes meeting the cold metal with a thump. Wincing, you almost feel the chill seep through the sole of your shoe. Did I actually sleep with these on? Gross!
You stand up and look around, taking in the room with fresh eyes. There's a beat-up, large sized box with a tattered cover on top of it at the foot of your bed. It's not exactly festive, but it's got that 'I might have a surprise inside' look to it. You tiptoe over to the box, heart racing. Christmas gift? Nah, it's too early! Starbitch wouldn't gift you so soon.
The box is practically screaming, 'Open me, open me!' The anticipation is killing you more than your sanity. You give into your urges and lift the cover, revealing piles of clothes, food, and even bath products! Holy shit, you could finally wash all this dirt off of you! The bed most likely needs a wash as well, you think as your eyes scan the sheets for any signs of dust or grime.
Fuck yes! Thank you, Starscream! You're for sure my favorite now. You jump around in glee, delighted that you finally get to shower. But.. where exactly? Whatever, you'll think about that later. Your eyes scan the contents, spotting a rubber duck. Aw, he remembered! Though, it was pretty roughed up. Damn, what has it been through? Hopefully not kidnapped like you had been. But seeing as it was inside the box, you can rule that one out.
The clothes are human-sized, and they even fit you. How'd he get my size? Creepy. But somehow, you doubt Starscream went on a shopping spree for you. You pick up a shirt, a simple black tee with the world's most overused dad joke in bold white letters. You laugh despite your odd situation, and it feels like a release of pressure you didn't know you were holding in.
You check out the other stuff in the box, and your eyes widen at the sight of the bath products. It's like someone sent you a care package from a parallel universe where humans and aliens co-existed in a bizarre harmony. The scents are heavenly, wafting out of the box like a spa had been miniaturized and packed in for your convenience. You spot a familiar logo on the bottles—Bath & Body Works. It's like a beacon of home in this absolute bitch of a ship. Smirking, you tuck the thoughts of sniffing all these soaps and lotions to the back of your mind.
Yeah, there's no way that guy picked out all this. He must've interrogated some girl's suck-up husband. You snicker to yourself at the idea of Starscream needing help pick out human necessities.
You set aside the clothes and dive into the heavenly scents of the bath products. The box is a treasure trove of human comforts, a striking contrast to the cold, metallic reality of the ship. You pick up a bottle of lavender body wash, feeling the warmth of the plastic in your hand, and take a deep sniff. The scent fills your nostrils, and for a brief moment, you're back in your own bathroom, the sound of the shower running and the hum of your favorite playlist in the background. It's so potent, so real, you're half expecting to wake up from this crazy dream and find yourself back in Jasper.
Dream... Wait. Didn't you have a dream? That bed must've worked wonders on your body for you to forget.
You try to recall your dream, but the details slip away like sand through your fingers, leaving only a sense of comfort and the faint echo of words from a blurry figure. Well, that sucks. You actually tried, too. You wave it off your mind, not giving it a second thought. You sigh, knowing you need to focus on the task at hand, but the allure of the box is too much for you to handle. Without much thought, you decide to indulge in a bit of luxury before planning your escape. Man, you really miss the ground. And food. Speaking of food, there's some in the box!
You dig through the clothes, uncovering a neatly packed meal that looks suspiciously like something you'd order at a fancy Earth restaurant. How did he know pepperoni pizza was your go-to comfort food? It really wasn't, but you'd eat just about anything right now, if it meant you'll have something other than energon in your stomach. The aroma hits your nose, and your stomach growls louder than the engines outside the ship. Ahahah... It's been a while since you've had something that wasn't a pitiful consequence of your actions. Luckily, there's nobody around to hear your embarrassment of a stomach.
Though the stuff inside the box looked like it was just tossed in there, you put in the effort to pack it neatly. At least you'll know where to find everything later.
Eyes darting around, you grab what looks like a twinkie. Oddly minion shaped. And damn! There are so many brands of water in here that you don't even know where to start.
How does he know what humans eat? You simply shrug to yourself. All of these questions can come later. Right now, you must feast!
You tear open the twinkie packaging with your teeth, the sweet, spongy cake and cream filling your mouth. It's heavenly. It's like you've never tasted anything so good in your life. You devour it in only three bites, but you manage to savor the taste of sugar and nostalgia. The pizza looks equally appealing, but you decide to save it for later. You don't know when the next time you'll get to eat something that isn't a clump of space rock will be.
As you chew on the last bite of your twinkie, the door to your new "living quarters" opens. Starscream struts in, his wings folded back with a dramatic flair that makes you want to roll your eyes. He's carrying what looks like a... phone? But it's definitely not your typical iPhone. More like a tablet. It's got more angles than a geometry book and it's glowing with a faint blue light.
I want one of those! Hand it over, bitch! You're desperate for technology. It seems food isn't the only thing you can't live without. Starscream jumps, optics find yours once he realizes you're awake, and that you've uncovered the box full of treats.
"I see you've found your... accommodations satisfactory," he says, his tone a mix of amusement and annoyance. It's clear he didn't expect his gesture to actually work. You flash him a grin, holding up the destroyed twinkie packet, a bit of the cream on your upper lip.
Yep! If these are the snacks you get for being held captive, it looks like you're in for a longer stay. You definitely plan to overstay your welcome.
You laugh, wiping the crumbs from your mouth, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Starscream. You really know how to make a girl feel at home" you say, gesturing to the box. Starscream freezes in his tracks. He's not used to this kind of praise. Let alone from a human.
"It's- ah, nothing," he says gruffly, looking away from you. But you can see the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his derma. It's like watching a cat try to act tough but failing miserably when it sees a laser pointer. "Just don't get too comfortable. Our Lord will be expecting you to... cooperate."
Starscream hides the fact that he unwillingly went to Knockout, asking the medic what humans of your caliber would require. The thought makes his frame shudder. Why does Knockout know so much about your blasted organic needs?! Starscream thinks that human media is leaving a mark on the medic, and definitely not a good one.
Great way to bring down the mood, thanks for that. You roll your eyes and groan internally, fighting the urge to imagine yourself slapping him with an abnormally large stretchy hand. You sigh out of boredom. Will all of your conversations with him end up with the mention of your unfavorable circumstances? You want to say something, but you're afraid the awkwardness might stab you in the heart first.
Scratch that, your curiosity wins the better of you when you remember the device he's holding.
"What's that?" You ask, pointing to the glowing tablet in his hands. It's definitely not something you've seen in any Apple store. It looks like it could definitely cost you at least thirty lifetimes— maybe even more.
Starscream wants to offline himself. He hates that Lord Megatron had even ordered that you have a custom data pad. Why did you even deserve one? You hadn't even been here for a deca-cycle! He wants to say that this is special treatment, but he thinks he understands where Megatron is coming from. Starscream likes to think that his lord wants you to get comfortable—so comfortable that you tell them anything that relates to those unsightly Autobots.
But, he can't say that. Unfortunately.
"It's a data pad," Starscream says with forced nonchalance, holding it out to you. His digits twitching with a hint of annoyance. "It's programmed with information on Cybertronian culture, language, and history. Lord Megatron thought it may assist you in... passing the time."
You get a history lesson, too? Sick! You ignore the final words that come out of his annoying mouth, tired of the constant reminder of how long you'll probably be here. You're absolutely loving this kidnapping. Jaw dropping, you almost reach out to touch it when—
Wait— stop! You cease your excessive obsession over the sexy alien's history after a thought circles through your mind. They're gonna try and bribe you for information! You reason with yourself.
Well, sucks for them. You snort. You have absolutely nothing to give them. Unless they force you to go on a weird, robot-human dispatch mission to spy on Autobutts. At least that way, you get to see mark. Oh, and you hope Bumblebee and Bulkhead are doing alright, despite your brief interaction. You've already decided which side is good and which isn't. You take the data pad from Starscream with feigned disinterest, trying not to betray the excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Oh, cool. Thanks," you say, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. Eat that, Decepticum!
'Thanks'?! Starscream went to the pits and back to retrieve that for you, and all he gets in return is 'Thanks'?! He's nearly had it with you. Well, he did the moment you gave his location away. But alas, he must put up with your outlandish behavior and insubordination. He attempts to keep cool to avoid frying his circuits, feeling his sanity slip away with each passing groon.
You end up looking at the data pad with a grin, pretending not to be too overjoyed. The smooth metal is surprisingly warm in your hands, and the blue glow is eerily soothing. The user interface is unlike anything you've ever seen—symbols and holographic images that dance before your eyes. It's like holding a fragment of the universe itself. You resist the urge to throw it at the wall—or hug it. Wowie! You have no fucking idea how you're supposed to learn all this, you just sit and stare at it. It's huge in your hands compared to Starscream's.
The seeker stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to do something. You are going to do something, right? He didn't just make your human processor malfunction due to your lack of extracting information, did he?
"So, what do I do with this thing?" You ask, turning the data pad around in your hand. You're trying to act as cool as possible, but you're pretty sure you're failing. It's like holding a VIP pass to the most exclusive intergalactic strip club in the galaxy. Starscream's smugness returns. "Simply tap the screen. It'll scan your neural patterns and tailor the information to your level of understanding." He's very much aware of how advanced their technology is to your race. Oh, how he misses Vos so dearly.
You feel like you're being taught the number one way to get a virus. How simple! Like ads at the bottom of a porn video. 'Hot milfs in your area, just one mile away!' In your case, they're probably thousands of miles away. No more for you, it seems. You ache at the loss of your privacy for masturbation. Oh my god.
You have no privacy! How will you ever relieve yourself?! You ought to ask that question at a later time, when things aren't so awkward between you and Starscream.
But regrettably, you decide to play along for now. You cautiously tap the screen with your index finger, and it lights up with a soft hum. The screen shimmers, and the symbols begin to change, morphing into something that looks suspiciously like your phone's home screen. It even has apps! Your eyes light up. You have no idea what 'Fullstasis' is, but hopefully it isn't a game that'll scam you for your nonexistent robo-currency. What currency do they even use? You ponder on that thought for a little before moving on.
Starscream watches with a mix of fascination and irritation as you explore the data pad. It's like watching a sparkling play with a piece of Cybertronian technology that could've been used for something more... constructive. He ex-vents. This is definitely going to take a while. He does not want to be the one to educate you on everything within this slagging ship! You have Knockout for that! He's the one that knows all about your human shows, which, might he add, cannot even compare to Cybertron's racing tournaments, or even the fights in the pits of Kaon!
Holy shit! This is so fucking cool. Definitely an original experience. Your eyes dart thoughtlessly across the screen, taking in all the new information that's been presented to you. An app with the word 'Translator' catches your eye. Finally! You get to understand what these things are saying!
"Oh, a translator! That's what I need!" You exclaim, tapping the app. A blue holographic keyboard appears, floating in mid-air, begging for your touch. You type in a question that's been on your mind since the moment you stepped into this metallic hellhole.|
Hmm.. Starscream would know the answer to this, right? The keyboard is a bit different from that which are on earth, but you figure it out eventually.
'Where-the-hell-do-I-shower-?' Pressing what you think is enter after actually plays the word out for you to hear. A series of clicks and.. whatever you're hearing is like listening to some new genre of music, except its thrown down an industrial shredder machine. Starscream obviously wasn't expecting that. He flinches in surprise, but quickly regains himself. You were bound to figure out what every button meant, even if you had to test what they did at least once. Chirps and clicks come out of your mouth in an attempt to copy it, but unsurprisingly, you fail. For the most part, though, you tried your best.
He's taken aback, clearly not expecting you to repeat it. Clearing his intake, and also ignoring your pitiful attempt at reciting his language, he answers you. "Well, I'm sure you'll find it eventually," Starscream turns around with a sass you could only find in scripted films. "But for now, I have duties to attend to. Don't destroy anything." he adds as a warning before leaving the room, his voice dropping to that low, sexy, seductive tone that you know and would learn to love. The door closes with a hiss, leaving you alone with the data pad.
Dude. Really? "Thanks for the tip, buddy," you murmur under your breath. The room is quiet except for the occasional distant rumble of the ship. You're surprised that you can actually hear the ship moving, but you're guessing that's what happens when you're stuck on board a giant floating metal monster. But.. You now have an alien IPad at your disposal! What will you do?
You start scrolling through the apps, trying to find something that doesn't look like it'll blow up in your face. You're pretty sure there's nothing like 'How to not get killed by a Decepticon 101' or 'Surviving Space Warfare for Dummies'—but one can dream. What could you even do on here? Play Tetris, probably. Something to pass the time.
Wait, hadn't Starscream mention that there was history of his race on here? If you could just find it.. then hopefully you'd read everything from beginning to end. Tapping away at the screen, you hope one of the apps is an e-book, specifically meant for you to read. You finally find it, woohoo! And the screen fills with images and words that make no sense to you. None of them are familiar to you, but you do recognize the silhouette of a planet. You stare at the image, feeling a strange pang of longing for a place you've never been.
Must be Cybertron. Or you think it is. What else would it be, if not that?
...Huh. Looks pretty cool. The flurry of emotions washing over you is something you can't control, but your expression remains pretty neutral for the most part. It's as if you're staring at something you'll never be able to reach.
But, you're not going to let that stop you. You're a smart cookie. You can figure this out. You just need to keep your wits about you. Plus, you've got the advantage of surprise. You tap on the image of the planet, expecting some kind of narrative to start, but instead, it zooms in to reveal a map of... something. You can't tell what it is, but it's definitely not Earth.
So many lights, so many.. futuristic buildings. Is this what humanity will be like in the next million years? You hope not.
... How do I translate all this to English?
Mumbling incoherent words to yourself, you mindlessly try and copy and paste everything into the translator app. Unfortunately, it doesn't work too well. Oh wait! Wrong language! You update it to 'Cybertronian to English' instead of whatever that is. The drop down menu in the translator app had way too many options to choose from. You assume they're different dialects, different languages, spoken by different parts of their planet.
The screen flickers and rearranges, the unintelligible text morphs into something akin to English, but with enough Cybertronian words to keep the original flavor. You could probably fill in the blanks with what you think the word is. This is pretty fun, you think.
Maybe.. just maybe.. you could find a way to contact Mark this way.
This was going to take a while.
Soundwave watched your fascination at the datapad, his screen flickering in curiosity. He hovered closer to the screen, his usual blank expression displaying a question mark as he studied the way your human eyes danced across the screen, trying to make sense of the alien symbols. It was almost... endearing, in a weird way.
He almost found it cute that your kind is swayed so easily by their technology. Almost.
Soundwave's gaze remained on the data pad, watching as you fidgeted with the apps. He knew what you were doing. You were trying to find a way out. Trying to communicate with those... Autobots. It was futile. They had blocked all signals from reaching Jasper. Or any part of the world for that matter. But hey, you can try. No human, or any other race for that matter, had managed to outsmart him. Not even his own cassettes.
'She's smarter than she looks', He mused internally. He had sent out Lazerbeak to monitor Starscream after he had sent a distress signal at the mine. He had seen every emotion on your face. The fear, the terror, he saw it all. Your actions right now are proof that you would do anything to get out of here. You would get used to it eventually.
His screens light up with data, showing the exact moment you had figured out the translator. How peculiar. He had to admit that humans were quite resourceful when they put their minds to it. It was something that made them interesting. He had seen many humans panic at the mere sight of his kind, but here you were, trying to understand their language and culture. It was quite fascinating.
Soundwave leaned closer, his screen flickering as he accessed the data pad's logs. You had been quite thorough in your search for a way to communicate with the outside world. You had even tried to hack into the ship's systems. A laughable attempt. Lazerbeak warbles beside him, watching as you typed away. 'Stupid.' Lazerbeak thinks.
Though, Soundwave knew better than to underestimate the ingenuity of organic life forms. Your kind had a knack for finding solutions to problems that were not immediately apparent. Plus, your humor had an annoying way of disarming the tension. It was something that could be... exploited. He makes a mental note to report your progress to Megatron. However, it is far too early. He wants to wait and see what you end up doing.
You in particular have piqued his interest. The cassette beside him really wants to offline himself right now. Lazerbeak wishes to tie a noose and hope Starscream walks in, reporting to his carrier of his inevitable fate.
If you really had no affiliation with the Autobots, he thinks that maybe he can befriend you. Maybe even convince you to join them. The thought makes his circuits hum with excitement. Lazerbeak deadpans, hovering beside him with a look in his optics as if to say, 'You can't be fragging serious.' But, you don't know any of that. You're just a human with a fancy new alien toy, trying to find a way to not go insane.
The thoughts in his processor are cut short due to the familiar thumping of a certain seeker's pedes against the floor.
Starscream struts in as if he owns the place, which, technically, he does. Only a third of it, though. "Soundwave," The third in command doesn't turn around, the only sign he heard him is a tilt of his helm.
The seeker pauses. He finds Soundwave entranced in watching your antics. Starscream sneers, his intake letting out something akin to a puking noise.
"What are you doing?" He asks, his voice edged with irritation.
Soundwave's screen flicker back to it's normal state. "Soundwave: Observing human's interaction with data pad." he responds without looking away from the screen. His voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. Though, he's still listening. "Observation: Human does not know how to properly use translator." Nah, he wasn't gonna sell you out. Everyone's had more than enough of Starscream's bullslag. Even him. He's just chill like that.
The seeker's optics narrow into slits as he tries to make out what you're doing in the camera's poor resolution.
Starscream attempts to grab the microphone near the communications officer so he can scare you, but Lazerbeak is quick to act, repeatedly slapping him in the faceplate with his wings. The seeker withdraws with a squeak. "Stop it— enough of your stunts! Soundwave, recall your cassette immediately!"
Soundwave's screens flicker again, he discreetly tells Lazerbeak through their shared bond to continue. "Soundwave: Does not wish to interrupt."
'What?!' Oh, it's over for you now, Soundwave!
This is preposterous! Starscream will definitely be telling Lord Megatron this time! He eventually manages to get Lazerbeak off, 'that fragging bird!', and storms away without another word. Soundwave praises his cassette and the cassette returns to his spot beside Soundwave.
Though, in their little quarrel, both Decepticons fail to notice that you aren't on the screen anymore, seemingly nowhere to be found.
Technically, you didn't have to do this. You were only given this so you wouldn't be nagging every bot on the ship about your problems. You suppose you could learn about Cybertron's history another time. You really hope spy guy isn't watching you on the cameras right now, because what you were planning to do is something quite dangerous. In your failed attempt at trying to hack into the ship's systems, the thought of exploring was hanging in your mind. Your limbs itched for some movement, and your mind begged for a new environment other than Starscream's plain hab-suite!
The corridors of the Nemesis are eerily silent, which is quite surprising considering the amount of chaos that had been happening here lately. But, hey, maybe that's a good thing. You sneak out of your bed, the datapad tucked underneath your arm like a secret diary.
Alright, mission impossible is about to become possible.
You thoroughly thought this through, bringing the datapad beside the box and the bed, and then rearranging it like you were under the covers. You stuffed a few piles of clothes, however many there were, under the blanket and left the datapad's screen on.
Hmm.. should I write something?
Of course! You want to leave Starscream a silly little message for when he comes back. It's not like he'll find you, right?
You decide to keep it simple, like you're a child leaving a note for a parent who's left you at home alone for the first time. Your fingers glid across the screen. 'Gone to take a shower! Don't come looking for me.. Unless you wanna see me naked, you freak!' You let your hands write for themselves. Feeling creative, you drew a little winky face in the corner.
All done! You hope he freaks out when he reads it. If he can. Drawing the words with your hands wasn't the best idea, maybe you missed a text tool or two?
Setting the pad down onto the sheets, you take a deep breath. You're about to explore enemy territory. The thrill is exhilarating, and a bit terrifying. You prepare yourself for your journey, getting a t-shirt from the box along with snacks and a drink. Now, you're ready to go!
If you could find out how the fuck to open the doors, that is. Uh oh, you didn't think about this part!
Remembering what you saw when Starscream had originally carried you to his hab-suite, you saw something like the keycard readers in hotels. Except this one was more of a screen with some alien symbols on it. Maybe its like a fingerprint reader? Did they have fingerprints? Hopefully that information is in your newly acquired datapad.
Now, inside the hab-suite, however, there was no reader. Or a handle, for that matter. It seems all doors on the Nemesis were like that of an elevator. Maybe there's a motion sensor? Well, you could try, but you would have no way to get off this table.
This was more complicated than you had originally thought. Fuck. Fuck your stupidity, and fuck Starscream! Maybe later.
You decide to take a moment to calm down and think. You've seen movies, you've played video games, you know how this works! Okay, what objects can you throw at the door so it opens? You're willing to bet that there's a sensor somewhere near the door that detects when someone is exiting. If you can pinpoint where the reader is on the other side of the wall, then maybe, just maybe, the sensor is directly across from it in this room.
Scouting around for some objects that are light enough to throw, but big enough for the sensor to catch, you hope you don't have to throw your food.. Your eyes dart between the products in your box and... well, nothing. There was nothing that was small enough for you to carry, let alone throw, besides the stuff in your box. The door was already a considerable distance away from the table you were on.
Think, bitch, think!
You scan the room again, this time more thoroughly. There's gotta be something here. And then, it hits you like a brick—or rather, a rubber duck. Aw, no! Were you really about to sacrifice your favorite object in the world?
Hands trembling, you hesitantly reach out for the inanimate object in the box. But you freeze.
What if Starscream had deliberately thrown the duck in the box just for you? You'd feel horrible!
Sighing, you look at the other items. The minion twinkies! Your supply of them seemed endless, and they were light! A match made in heaven! You picked up three twinkies in total, even giving them names in case you actually manage to open the door. Maybe if they survive you can eat them after.
Your first subject, Bob, was quite stubby. A short twinkie with the filling coming out from the top. You weren't really sure if this would work, but hey, it's better to try than to sit around and do nothing, right? With a silent cheer of it's name, you prepare to throw it.
Alright Bob, if you fail, just know your successors probably will too. You internally cheer Bob on with a slight squeeze. Giving it your best throw, you chuck Bob at what you think is the other side of the card reader. Nothing happens. Well, one down, two more to go.
Was it that you didn't apply enough force? Or were twinkies just not the right object for this? The more times you try, the closer you are to finding that out. Or this is all for nothing. You hope it isn't. Being stuck in Twinkscream's room wasn't something you had planned on the daily.
Okay, subject two, Kevin.
Kevin was a bit peculiar, the complete opposite of Bob. It was a long twinkie with the filling extruding slightly from the flat part of it. You've gotta say, your names aren't that creative. But for twinkies, you think it fits pretty well. They never end up making it that far in life.
Kevin.. I have no words for you. You seem pretty shitty, so I don't really expect much. You aren't sorry. Nor do you pity it.
With more force than last time, you hurl Kevin at the wall, the twinkie's wrapper crackling when it finally makes contact. Kevin bounces off and joins Bob on the floor with a splat. Aw, again?
Just as you had anticipated. Nothing. Well, you know what they say! Third time's a charm.
You turned around and grabbed the third and final victim of your ideas, Stuart. Stuart looked like if Kevin and Bob had a fucked up relationship which ended in ruins. The twinkie in your hands looked like it was screaming, 'No! Please don't throw me! I have a life to live, a stomach to be in! Yours specifically.'
Sorry, not sorry, but if Stuart got you out if here, then it was a worthy sacrifice. Once again, you chuck the poor twinkie, the snack hits the wall faster than the last two.
You really hope Starscream comes back to his hab-suite later and steps on the twinkies. That would be funny, you think.
Unfortunately, Stuart had broken your heart just like it's predecessors. It bounces, and then bounces again on the other two twinkies before laying flat against the floor. You're starting to get annoyed, and you will eventually run out of options. You don't want to sit around here just to rot and die of boredom.
Ugh! Why wasn't anything working?! You had this perfectly planned out!
In a fit of anger, you grab a fourth twinkie, not even caring to name it. You take it out of its packaging, debating on whether or not to just shove it in your mouth aggressively or throw it away like its family. You decide on the latter.
Groaning in exasperation, you launch the twinkie with a force of strength you didn't even know you had. The twinkie sticks to the wall, and surprisingly, the door slides open. You swear you can hear the minion's thoughts saying, 'Fuck my pathetic twinkie life!'
Holy shit! You've got to think of how to get down. And quick. Your mind races with ideas. You could tie a bunch of clothes together to make a rope, but that would take forever. And it would be a waste. Maybe you could use something as a parachute?
Fuck. You can't believe you're actually doing this. Rummaging through your box, you try and find something sturdy enough so that it could float you down.
Time is ticking, and the twinkie is also sliding down the wall, each centimeter of filling another second closer to your impending doom.
Your jaw drops when you see a conveniently folded one-piece swimsuit that is practically calling out for you to wear it. No! You shake your head. If this were another universe, you're sure you and the swimsuit would get along well. But regrettably, but also not really, you yank the swimsuit out of the box.
It actually looks pretty good. You'd definitely rock this in a swimming commercial. Too bad that won't be happening. From what you know, this should be the most sturdy material in the box. Even more than the box itself, perhaps. Nylon had it's uses. You were so sure this would fuck you over. If this worked, you would live and then continue on with your life. If it didn't, you'd either die from the impact and embarrassment, or you'd survive with multiple broken limbs.
You can feel the blood pumping rapidly throughout your body. Alright, step one, done. Step two—
Cut it, you needed to cut it! You had no scissors, so what the hell were you gonna do?! You pat down what was left of the clothes you were wearing, and to your surprise, you feel a small, almost unnoticeable shard of what you think is energon in your pocket. The same pocket with the one you ate. So I didn't get the full experience?
It turns out you actually grabbed two measly shards instead of one. One that is in your stomach, and one that was so small that it went undetected, even as you were asleep and rolling around. You pulled the shard out, inspecting it before brutally shredding the swimsuit with the shard. You feel no sympathy.
The swimsuit now lays flat on the table with holes only meant for your head, arm, and legs to go through. You quickly look back at the twinkie, the filling leaving a trail behind as it made it's way down. Like a snail. Stuffing some of the snacks you prepared earlier into your pocket, you mentally prepare yourself for what reckless thing you're about to do.
Okay, you can do this. No panicking. Panicking is for weaklings. You grab the swimsuit and position it in a way you were sure that air won't go through the holes. Your heart beats at what you're sure is now miles per hour instead of beats per minute.
Gaining momentum, you run as if you're back in the mines again, and close your eyes. You imagine Mark is calling out to you to join him inside of Bulkhead. That thought almost makes you miss a step. You meant inside Bulkhead's interior, but it sounds equally as bad. Your arms above your head with your DIY parachute.
Think. Happy. Thoughts. You try and calm yourself down, you feet reaching the edge.
With one last inhale, your feet descend from the table. Your heart throbs so loudly you swear its the only thing you hear. Time seems to go in slow motion for you, the only thing fast is your heartbeat and every thought racing through your mind.
I am so fucking stupid! I regret everything! Please, kill me n— Your feet land on the floor with a soft thud.
Silence.
Oh my god.
And the gods were probably listening to your pathetic whining once again, because your prayers have been answered. I fucking made it, bitches! You steady your breathing before hastily stuffing your lucky swimsuit into your pocket. It doesn't really fit, but you can't put it anywhere else. It's not like you could wear it now, anyway. Maybe you can use it'll come in handy again later.
Internally, you pat yourself on the back for that one. Quick thinking. Your eyes then dart in a panic to the minion on the wall, and you're sure it has already slid off the sensor, because the door begins to close.
Shit..!!
Your heart stops this time instead of beating quicker. Fuck this! You sprint like you're in the Olympics, the door nearly closing shut. In the nick of time, you squeeze through the narrow crack in the door. You fall to the ground and attempt to regain your composure.
Moments before the door closes, you hear the twinkie fall to the floor. This time, its more of a plop than a slap. Maybe cause it doesn't have it's wrapper.
You decide to name the twinkie Dave.
Thank you, Dave! I'll always remember you! Man, you've really gone crazy, haven't you? For crying out loud, you still have more than five twinkies in your stuffed pockets! That's nearly enough to last you... only a few hours. But it's okay, cause you're free now! You let out a deep exhale, your mind now as calm as a woman on a yoga mat.
But before you forget anything else, you toss the miniature energon shard into your mouth and swallow it whole. A good luck charm to help you on your journey. Maybe now you'll grow a pair of robotic wings and burst into flames.
Here we go!
Notes:
btw, fullstasis is cybertron's version of chess or war & strategy.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but again, do NOT try and do this. I did once and my lip was busted as fuck but it couldve been waaaaaaay worse. not to mention, the height from which you jumped was wayyy higher than you think. if starscream is the height of multiple meter sticks, then the table is the height of your average two story house. Tall as fuck. and you jumped from it
The minion shit was actually based off of megatron voring a hoard (? is that what you call a group of minions idk LMAO) of minions on ... rule 34. if u want the link lmk cuz it was funny as fuck
it was a joke between my friends and I but someone thought it was a good idea to add it in here so,, here you go bitches
Chapter 4: The fun begins... now!
Summary:
While you explore the ship, chaos resumes down below. Mark tags along with Arcee and Cliffjumper and is caught up between the crossfire. You, though, are too busy trying not to get caught.
Notes:
The beginning of tfp officially begins here, so yes, cliffjumper will be getting jostled and tossed around like a ragdoll. sorry not sorry.
This chapter focuses more on the events in the first episode so basically youll be seeing more of mark.
i wrote like 3/4 of this eating the coldest oranges i could get my hands on and i think it altered my brain a bit. Not much silly dialogue from you in this chapter, sorry :(
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As dawn breaks over Jasper, a tapestry of pinks and purples kisses the horizon, the Autobot base stirs to life. The metallic giants huddle around a holographic map, the flickering light casting long shadows across their stoic faceplates. Mark sits at the edge of a table, sipping a cup of something that resembles coffee, but tastes more like a combination of chocolate milk and hot water. It's the closest thing to home he's had in what feels like forever.
With a grumble, Ratchet activates the ground bridge, allowing another bot to come through. Mark isn't quite sure who it is, but the dusty red frame and the scent of metal and exhaust gives him a pretty good clue. Cliffjumper strides into the room, his optics scanning the area with a military precision that's almost unsettling. He's a bit taller than Arcee, Mark notes.
"Who's the newbie?" Cliffjumper's voice perks up as his optics find Mark.
Mark's eyes widen as a new voice joins the discussion—deep, gruff, and unfamiliar. Optimus takes notice to his confusion and extends a servo to the side, introducing the newcomer. "I apologize. Allow me to formally introduce Cliffjumper," he says, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "He was out on patrol late last night, hence the belated introduction."
Cliffjumper emerges from the ground bridge, a dusty red blur that solidifies into a stoic form. His optics are like gleaming sapphires in the early morning light, and the exhaust pipes on his back look like they've seen their fair share of battles. He nods curtly at Mark, and Mark nods back, his grip tightening around his coffee cup. He's surprised to feel a twinge of respect for the Autobot despite not knowing much about him.
The room falls silent as Optimus Prime turns to Mark.
The Prime's optics stare into Mark's own eyes, determination unwavering. "We've traced the last known location of Starscream to Jasper, but we have not been able to pinpoint exactly where. The Decepticons are clever, and they move fast. However, Ratchet has found something that may offer a clue to your sister's whereabouts."
Mark's heart skips a beat, and his grip on the coffee cup tightens. The warmth seeps into his palms, but it does little to alleviate the cold dread coiling in his stomach. "What did you find?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Ratchet, ever the pragmatist, steps toward the screen, his servo gesturing to the map. "Our intel suggests that she was most likely taken to the Nemesis. However, locating it is out of the question."
"What the hell is a Nemesis?.." Mark murmurs to himself before sputtering at Ratchet's words.
"Why not?" Mark's voice rises, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger. "You're telling me you can't find her with your—" His mind jumbles words up in an attempt to name the screens in front of them. "Your space tech?!" Mark awkwardly sputters out.
Ratchet's optic ridges narrow, and he turns to Mark. "You humans and your 'space tech'.." The medic ex-vents with an audible groan. "You think we're like you, with your little drones and satellites that fall from the sky when a bird farts too hard. The Nemesis is equipped with stealth systems that make it invisible to any scanning device. I'm talking about technology that would make your most sophisticated gadgets look like they were made by a caveman playing with rocks!" The medic's voice is a blend of frustration and condescension, his arms folded across his chassis as he gazes down at Mark. A wild analogy, but he understands, or at least he thinks he does.
Mark's cheeks flush a hint of red, and he shrinks away from the harsh words, feeling the weight of his ignorance. "I didn't mean—" he starts to apologize, but Optimus cuts him off with a firm look.
Optimus interjects in calmly, "The Nemesis is a highly advanced Decepticon ship, Mark. It is capable of cloaking itself from our sensors. Even for us, finding it without a direct lead is like searching for a needle in a haystack. However, we will not give up. Your sister's well-being is as important to us as our own."
The words settle in as all optics are trained onto Mark. Optimus' gaze is understanding as he nods at Mark before turning to Ratchet, discussing something Mark cannot hear. He sighs and thinks to himself after staring at Optimus with wide eyes that soften. He's starting to realize that these giant robots are more than just fighting machines—they have a sense companionship and loyalty that's just as human as his own. Feelings.
With a shaky exhale, Mark looks down at his swinging legs, the dust and dirt from the mineshaft still clinging to his pants. His now empty coffee cup sits beside him, missing the warmth of his hand. A reminder of the reality that's crashing down around him. You probably miss him too, right? He's been saved by aliens, sure, but they're in the middle of a war. And you were caught right in the thick of it. It's absurd, really.
He thinks back to the carefree days in Jasper, where the most he had to worry about was what flavor of ice cream to get from the gas station. And now? You've been stolen by a giant robot with a penchant for that 'energon', and he's sitting in a room with a bunch of other giant robots that are supposedly the good guys. They're planning a rescue, but it's all so much to take in.
His gaze flickers over to Ratchet, who looks more stressed than he is, probably because he's the one who has to fix them up after every battle. He feels incredibly guilty for raising his voice at the medic, who's just trying to do his job. Bulkhead, being the gentle giant he is, stares at him with understanding, his blue optics filled with empathy. Meanwhile, Bumblebee's whirs sound almost sad as they all stare at him, likely expecting him to just turn around and sulk.
But out of the blue, Cliffjumper slides a comforting servo towards Mark. His servo is large and metallic, but surprisingly warm. It's a distinct difference to the cold, sterile environment of the medical bay. Mark looks at it for a second, blinking rapidly as he tries to process what's happening. Was he about to punch him? No, it's curled into a loose fist, hovering in the air beside him, almost inviting him to hold on. He's not sure what to make of it, but the gesture feels genuine.
"Look, kid," Cliffjumper says, his voice softer than the engineered steel that makes up his frame. "We're in this together. We won't leave your sister behind. She's important to you, and that makes her important to us."
Mark's eyes widen, and he swears he can feel tears welling up in his eyes as he stares at Cliffjumper. The red Autobot's expression is firm, his gaze filled with resolve, and there's a kindness there that Mark hadn't seen before. It's as if Cliffjumper's trying to communicate something deeper than mere words, something that goes beyond their species.
Tentatively, Mark reaches out and wraps his hand around one of his digits. The metal is warm, almost pulsing with life. Well, it technically is. A shiver runs through him as he squeezes it gently. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
In the background, Arcee watches the exchange with a knowing smile playing on her derma. She ex-vents a quiet chuckle, shaking her helm slightly. "That's 'Cliff for you," she murmurs under her breath. The words are barely audible, but they carry a warmth that fills the room. Mark wonders if these two are close.
Optimus' gaze lingers on the newfound bond between Mark and Cliffjumper for a moment, his conversation with Ratchet now quiet. He wants to smile, he really does. If not for the weight on his shoulders, the burdens of the past weighing him down. The medic notices his leader's expression after he had abruptly gone silent, his optics solemnly studying his faceplate. He seems to sense the shift and nods.
Cliffjumper gives him a reassuring nudge before returning to Arcee's side. Mark lets out a breath he didn't know that he was holding in, and for once, he feels reassured. He turns around to the other bots in the room— oh, right. He has to apologize. It wasn't Ratchet's fault that you were abducted, after all.
With a newfound confidence, he turns to where Optimus and Ratchet stand, catching the Prime's gaze for a moment before looking at the medic. He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck while his cheeks are a hint of red.
"I-I'm sorry, Ratchet. I didn't mean to... I just..." He trails off, searching for the words to express his apology. "It's just, she's all I've got."
The medical bay is quiet, the only sound being the gentle whirring of the Autobots' systems. Ratchet's focused gaze softens, returning to the screen as he nods slowly. "I understand, Mark." he says with an ex-vent. "It's.. alright." He grunts, he says it as if the words are unfamiliar to him.
Mark is caught off guard by the sudden change in Ratchet's tone. It's a huge difference to the sharpness from before—his voice is now calm, something that Mark would've never expected from the medic. The words coming from Ratchet bring memories from the past that the Autobots have lived through, memories of loss and perseverance.
"Alright, let's get this over with!" Ratchet says with a firm nod. His voice is a mix of urgency and weariness that's palpable even through the mechanical ex-vents. His servo reaches out to activate the groundbridge, inputting a set of coordinates before the green light illuminates the room once more.
Arcee and Cliffjumper exchange a look, the former's expression a mirror of concern as she addresses the latter. "You sure you don't want a break, Cliff?" Her optics are tinged with a hint of care as she looks up at the taller Autobot. Cliffjumper chuckles, a sound that's surprisingly comforting in the tense atmosphere. "After all these years, I've still got to warm up my engines," he quips, slapping a servo against his chest plate. It's clear to Mark that they've known each other for a long time, that their bond a silent testament to the trials they've faced together.
With a nod from Cliffjumper, Arcee's smile widens into a grin. "Alright, if you say so," she says, her voice carrying a lilt of excitement. In one fluid motion, both Autobots transform into their vehicle modes, beginning to step through the ground bridge. The light engulfs them, and the room is filled with the sound of their transformations—whirring gears, the hiss of metal folding against metal, and the final, satisfying clunk. Mark's eyes widen as he watches the transformation, a child-like wonder sparkling in his eyes. One of the only time he's seen it being when Starscream was in front of the ground bridge.
The memory makes him feel sick.
He doesn't know why, but the sight of his sister in a Decepticon's grasp is more terrifying than any horror movie he's ever seen. It's like watching someone you love get swallowed by a monster, except the monster is made of metal and has a jetpack. In any other situation it would've been a little funny. Just a little.
But this isn't any other situation. This is real, and he's actually in danger. His heart is racing so fast he's surprised it hasn't turned into a helicopter blade. Mark looks at the spot where Cliffjumper and Arcee transformed at the entrance of the ground bridge, feeling the weight of the silence that follows. "Where are they going?" he finally manages to ask.
"Patrol," answers Bulkhead. "We do it occasionally to keep ourselves busy and to make sure there's no filthy 'cons lurking." Mark nods, understanding the need for vigilance. The mention of Decepticons sends a cold shiver down his spine, reminding him of Starscream's actions. The room's silence is pierced by the sound of Bulkhead's heavy pedes as he strides over to stand by the ground bridge, his bulk casting a shadow that seems to stretch across the room. It's almost like this some fucked up children's book.
But here, in this world, where he's learned that there's more to these robot aliens than meets the eye, it's anything but a mere book. Mark feels a knot form in his stomach, tightening with every second that passes without a plan. And just as he thinks he's going to be sick from the tension, he has an idea.
"Wait!"
The room goes still as Mark's voice echoes through the base. The two Autobots are still in their vehicle forms, but the slight turn of their side mirrors show they're listening.
"What is it, Mark?" Optimus questions, his voice a gentle rumble.
Mark's eyes dart to Bumblebee, the yellow bot's buzzing a mix of confusion and concern. Ratchet, ever the skeptic, continues to fiddle with his tools, hoping Mark's idea isn't a harebrained scheme that will get everyone offlined. Mark swallows hard, trying to gather his thoughts. "I was thinking..." Here it comes. Ratchet prepares himself.
"Could I come with?"
The words hang in the air, and the room goes so quiet he could hear some dramatic sound effect. Queue the crickets! The whirring of Ratchet's tools slow to a stop, and all optics turn to Mark.
Ratchet deadpans, "Obviously, you cannot." His voice is flat, like someone telling you that you can't have ice cream because it's -100 degrees outside. Mark's heart sinks. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, they'd let him tag along. He was hoping that maybe, while they were outside, he could find a clue to where that ship was.
The room stays silent for a beat before Bulkhead lets out a gruff laugh, his deep chuckles bouncing off the walls. "You've got guts, kid," he says, slapping a massive servo on Mark's shoulder. The impact sends Mark stumbling, but he grins up at the larger bot. "Uh, thanks, I think?" This happens to him too much.
Optimus, ever the tactician, considers the proposal, his head tilting slightly. "While your spirit is commendable, Mark, the danger is too great for a human on a reconnaissance mission. We must prioritize your safety."
Mark's shoulders slump, feeling the weight of the denial. His mind races, trying to think of a way to convince them that he's more than just a liability. "But I can help! I know Jasper like the back of my hand. I could spot something out of place, something that could lead us to— uh— to the Nemesis!" His voice is desperate, the hope clinging to it like a lifeline.
Ratchet scoffs, the sound echoing through the medical bay louder than any of the tools he's ever used. The room seems to shrink around Mark as the medic's optics bore into him, the glow from his gaze a stark contrast to the cold metal surfaces. "You think you can help?" Ratchet asks, his voice a mix of incredulity and sarcasm. "What exactly can you contribute, human?" The disdain in his voice is palpable, but Mark doesn't flinch. He's had worse from his coach on the football team, and this is your life on the line.
Mark takes a deep breath, looking around the room. The Autobots are watching him, their expressions ranging from doubtful to outright skeptical. "Look, I— I know I'm not a robot or a soldier," he starts, trying to keep his voice steady. "But I've got street smarts, and I can drive a car. Plus, I've got something that you guys don't." He's lying his ass off.
It looks like you're really rubbing off on him. He can't believe he's about to say this.
The Autobots look at each other, a silent conversation playing out in their optics. The tension in the room is as thick as a triple-chocolate milkshake, and Mark's palms are sweating more than he'd like to admit. It's like watching a tennis match with no rackets or balls—just a bunch of robot glares bouncing around. He tries to imagine what you would say, if you were here with him right now.
'Okay Mark, now what?' He tries to come up with something.
"I've got something that makes me... special." Mark says, his voice quaking slightly. God, seriously? He decides that he really needs to stop listening to you ramble.
Optimus' gaze sharpens, and the room seems to hold its collective breath. Ratchet's optics narrow, and Bulkhead tilts his head in curiosity. Bumblebee's whirs turn into a concerned buzz, and even Arcee and Cliffjumper, still in their vehicle forms, angle themselves slightly towards Mark. "Special, ..how?" Optimus asks, his tone measured.
Mark's mind races, trying to come up with something that could justify his inclusion in the patrolling mission.
"Well, uh, I can blend in," he says, his voice gaining confidence with each word. "I mean, I'm not exactly a shiny robot that stands out, right?"
Optimus nods thoughtfully. "Your ability to go unnoticed could indeed be an asset. However, the risk to your safety is still too great." He's not giving up yet.
But Mark is nothing if not persistent. "I- I understand the risks, but think about it," he pleads, his eyes shining with determination. "What if there's something I see out there, something that only I can recognize because of my connection to my sister? Something that you guys might not know?" He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What if it's the difference between finding her and... not?"
The room remains still, Mark thinks the anticipation is killing him slowly. Optimus seems to ponder on the thought, his gaze unfocused as if seeing a chessboard of possibilities unfolding before him. Mark can almost hear the gears turning in his metallic head, considering every angle, every potential outcome. The weight of the decision presses down on him, and he fidgets nervously under the intense scrutiny.
'Please, please say yes!' He would beg on his knees right now. The words hang in the air, unspoken but screaming in Mark's head. Mark's heart races, hoping that the desperation in his voice had convinced them that he could truly be of help.
Optimus ex-vents, his chest plate expanding and contracting in a slow, deliberate rhythm that seems to echo the ticking clock in Mark's chest. Finally, the Prime's gaze refocuses, and he turns to Arcee and Cliffjumper. "Ensuring Mark's safety is your top priority. If you encounter a Decepticon, return Mark to the base immediately." It's not a suggestion—it's an order.
'Yes! Thank you!'
Arcee hums, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Understood, Prime," she says, her voice a smooth purr. Cliffjumper chuckles, the driver's door opening with a clean noise only heard in car commercials. "Don't worry, Mark. We'll keep you safe," he says, his lights flashing.
Mark's eyes widen, he can't believe it. They're actually letting him come. He jumps up from the table, fist pumping the air with a victory cheer. "Yes!" he shouts, unable to contain his excitement. The sound echoes through the base, bouncing off the metal walls like a pinball. The Autobots look at him with a mix of amusement and concern. Whoops, he got a little bit too excited there.
Ratchet, however, isn't sharing in the excitement. He grumbles under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is a mistake, Optimus," he mutters, his optics dimming slightly. "We're bringing a human into the middle of a war zone."
Optimus turns to Ratchet, his expression firm but not unkind. "We must trust Mark's intuition, Ratchet," he says. "His bond with his sister is strong, and it may lead us to her where our technology has failed."
Ratchet snorts, his optics flashing with skepticism. "Fine," he says, tossing a spare tool into a tray with a clatter. "But don't say I didn't warn you." He turns back to his work, leaving the decision in the hands of the others.
Mark sends Ratchet a confused glance as Optimus opens his servo for him to climb into, so he can be placed on the ground gently. It's like being offered a hand down from a horse, except the horse is a giant robot and he's about to go on a mission to save you from another giant robot. How fun. He swallows hard, his heart thudding in his chest like a bass drum. The metal is surprisingly warm under his touch, and he can feel the power in the Prime's joints as he hoists himself up.
Optimus steadily lowers Mark to the ground. As his feet touch the floor, Mark stammers out a "Thank you," feeling a bit awkward. Optimus nods in acknowledgment, his gaze still fixed on him, as if trying to read his mind, or his soul, or something equally intense. "You're welcome, Mark," the Prime says, his voice a mix of sternness and something softer, something that feels like... respect? "Remember, stay alert. Your sister's life is in danger, but so is yours."
Mark nods shakily, trying to keep his cool. He runs over to the open driver door of Cliffjumper, the car's sleek, red form seemingly smiling at him with its headlights. "Don't worry, I've got this," he says with a grin, trying to sound more confident than he feels. "I've played enough video games to know how to stay out of trouble."
With a deep breath, he hops into the seat and pulls the door shut with a satisfying thunk. The interior is surprisingly comfortable, like sliding into a well-worn leather jacket. He looks around, his eyes scanning the dashboard, which looks exactly like how a regular car would. Huh.
Now that he thinks about it, Bulkhead's interior also looked pretty normal. He assumes all those parts are hidden within their bodies.
Arcee and Cliffjumper rev their engines, and Mark feels the vibration through the seat. His heart matches their rhythm, beating in time with the powerful machines. He's not just a passenger; he's part of a team now, a team that's racing against the clock to save his sister.
The radio crackles to life, and Cliffjumper's voice fills the cabin. It's a comforting sound, a reminder that he's not alone. "Ready, kid?" he asks, his voice a mix of challenge and reassurance. Mark nods, a playful grin of his own spreading across his face. It's like he's about to embark on an epic quest, and somehow, he's the hero. Or the sidekick. He's not quite sure which, but he's definitely ready for some adventure.
Mark nods, his heart thudding in his chest as they roll out of the ground bridge and into Jasper, the engine's purr a reassuring background noise.
He only hopes he can find you before it's too late.
In the long, ominous hallways of the Nemesis, the pitter patter of little feet can only be heard by nearby audial receptors. Though, if they do hear you, they don't seem to care.
You've been wandering around the Nemesis for what feels like hours, the floor colder than the one in Starscream's hab-suite. Confusing, shouldn't it be the same? Maybe he likes being warm, like a very fluffy bear. He's quite the opposite, you think.
The ship is eerily quiet, the occasional hum of machinery and distant footsteps the only sounds that break the silence. You've been trying to keep your cool, but it's hard not to let the fear take over. After all, you're just a human, and compared to these giant beings, you're nothing. But you push on, driven by the hope of finding a way out and the absurd belief that maybe, just maybe, you can make a difference.
..And, maybe find some entertainment.
You feel the five twinkies in your pocket, their squished forms a comforting presence against your leg. They've become your makeshift security blanket in this flying metal warship. The thought of chucking them at the next Decepticon that crosses your path is almost tempting, but unfortunately you think that'll already spell your fate out for you. Hopefully Starscream found those twinkies. You snort to yourself.
You're not just looking for a laugh, you're looking for a way out. But the water bottle, now that's a different story. You've been sipping it sparingly, the cool liquid was now.. a disgusting room temperature. Eugh. You think you should've brought one more, it's like your own little oasis in the desert of despair.
Digging into your pocket, you grab a random twinkie and hold it up to the dim light. The creases on its golden spongey exterior tell a tale of the battle it faced in the pocket of your sweatpants. Sorry little guy.. I'll eat you later. Promise.
Maybe you should give this one a name, too? Fiddling with it in your hands, you try to come up with a name— not a basic one like the other twinkies. Dave was your savior, though, so you couldn't criticize it.
You decide to name it 'Freedom', because that's what you're fighting for—both for yourself and for the twinkie. You give it a little salute with a half-smile, trying to keep your spirits up. The sweet smell of cream fills the small space around you, and you feel a pang of hunger. It's been a while since you've had anything substantial to eat.
No! Not again, don't give in!
The twinkie in your hand feels like it's begging you, its tiny creases seeming to form a pleading expression. You chuckle to yourself, feeling a bit silly for thinking a snack cake even has feelings. Maybe they do, or maybe you've finally gone crazy. I'm too young for this shit... But in this cold, ginormous bitch of a ship, 'Freedom' is the closest thing you have to a friend. You tuck it back into your pocket with a gentle pat. "You'll get to see the light of day again," you murmur, trying to keep the despair out of your voice. "Once I figure out how to get us out of here."
Breathe. You're not going to panic. You're not going to be the damsel in distress. You're going to be the hero of your own story. You stand tall, shoulders squared, and try to ignore the tremble in your knees. The metal beneath your boots feels cold and unforgiving, a terrible reminder of the robot world you're trapped in.
But you've faced worse, right? Like that time you had to give a speech in front of the whole school. Or when you had to tell your parents that you accidentally dyed your dog blue. Not sorry. This is just another challenge.
Just another challenge. Just another challenge. Just ano—
A thunderous stampede of footsteps shakes the floor underneath you, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw. Your heart skips a beat as you press yourself against the cold metal wall, trying to melt into the shadows. The sound grows closer, and you can feel the vibrations through your shoes. Your breath is coming in short, shallow gasps, and you're pretty sure your heart is screaming, 'Let me be free!'
Well shit! You've managed to go this long and far without being caught, so why now? Like seriously?
You hear the tangled clicks and chirps, and whirrs of what you assume are Decepticon's talking. They're getting closer, and your heart is about to jump out of your chest. Why is this happening? Did you miss a memo? Panic sets in, but you know you can't just stand here and wait to be found. That's not what heroes do, and you're definitely not about to let a robot catch you without a fight. Or, well, at least without hiding really well.
Panicked eyes searched around the corridor, looking for a place to hide. You spot an abnormally large metal box, the kind that's got a warning label slapped on the side with a skull and crossbones. Definitely not human sized, but better than nothing, you suppose. It's probably filled with something that could turn you into mush if it spills, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Plus, if you hide behind something that could potentially kill you, you might as well make it something that could also hide you well.
Smart thinking, me!
You sprint towards it, hoping your boots don't squeak like a mouse. You're pretty sure that would give you away faster than a neon sign flashing 'HUMAN HERE'. The footsteps eventually got closer, and the clicks faster than any human could do on a gaming mouse. Being the dare devil you are, you take a quick little peek from the corner of the box.
Your eyes widen when you see those small purple robots from earlier. Well, not that small. Shorter than Starscream, you remember. Their faces were covered by masks, or was that their face? You don't know. Too confusing.
Trembling hands attempt to search for the water bottle in your pocket to calm you down. Your body visibly calms down, but your mind is elsewhere. Your twinkies!
Using your other hand, you carefully took each twinkie out one by one to avoid the wrapper crinkling. Okay, so far so good. You count one, two, three four, four— wait. Two fours?
Oh no.
Your heart plummets like it's in a freefall. The special twinkie. Where is 'Freedom'? You pat down your pocket with trembling hands, feeling around for the familiar squishy lump. Empty. It's not there. You swallow a gasp, your mind racing. Did it fall out? Did you drop it? Did it decide to escape without you? Oh, you hope not.
The chittering of the purple robots stop, and so do their footsteps. You gulp as if you're in a cartoon, and you hope they can't hear it. You're curious. So curious to see what made them stop directly in front of the box you were hiding behind.
Fear grips you like an eagle's talons, squeezing the air from your lungs and freezing your muscles in place. The cold metal of the wall seems to pulse with your racing heartbeat. Your eyes dart to the left, looking for any sign of movement, then right, then left again.
Fuck it.
You can't just stand here like a statue, you need to know what's going on. You lean over, your heart in your throat, and peek around the corner of the metal box. The purple robots have formed a tight little semi-circle, their masked faces looking down at something on the floor. Squinting, you try to make out what it is that caught their attention.
'Freedom'?! Your eyes widen as you spot the crumpled twinkie wrapper, a sad little trail of the cream inside leading to your hiding spot.
Fuck me, actually.
The purple robots hover over the twinkie, their piercing red visors peering through their masks like a bunch of confused puppies finding a forgotten sock. You hold your breath, hoping they don't decide to check the source of the delicious smell that's probably wafting towards them. Can they even smell? You don't know, and you aren't looking to find out anytime soon. They're definitely not the size of chihuahuas, but you wouldn't mind having a pack of those little guys as pets. If their kind wasn't, you know, trying to kill you.
The whirrs and clicks that come from their tiny forms sound suspiciously like they're saying "What the hell is that?" One of them even tilts its helm curiously, the light inside its visor flashing like it's trying to make sense of the snack. You fight the urge to laugh, because that would be your last sound if they heard you. Instead, you press yourself further into the box, trying to become one with the metal.
As you watch, one of the purple robots, the one that looks... exactly like the others crouches down and pokes the twinkie with its digit. It's like watching a child discover a new toy, except this child is made of space metal and could probably rip you apart if it wanted to. The digit touches the twinkie, and the robot jerks its hand back as if it's been burned.
Oh my god, no fucking way. Are they really scared of it? How ridiculous!
You cover your mouth, a laugh almost escaping you as you watch the purple robot's reaction to 'Freedom'. The absurdity of the situation is not lost on you. Who knew a twinkie could be so terrifying? Well, you would've been laughing right now, if not for the realization that hit you like a ton of bricks.
Your 'Freedom' is gone. As quickly as it was gained, you had lost it. Oh, the irony. With an exhale, you begin to retreat back behind the box. You stop halfway, however, as one of the robots' head turns toward the box.
Oh, shit. It's visor nearly made eye contact with you. Or at least, what you think is their eyes.
You freeze, and you swear the beat of your heart is louder than the silence in the hallway. The robot's head swivels back and forth, as if it heard something. It's definitely heard something. It probably heard your heart, which is basically shouting "Come and fucking get me, losers!" at this point.
Scrambling behind the box, you cling onto it with your life. The robot walks closer and closer, until it's footsteps stop right in front of the box. At this point, you've run out of options. You don't know what to do anymore. You think about jumping out and screaming "Boo!" like it's some kind of twisted surprise party. But that'll only end with you getting captured or worse.
The purple robots chirp, as if saying 'what is it?' Meanwhile, the one near you picks the box up as if it was merely a feather to them. You feel your feet lift off the ground underneath you, the box hiding your face. You're pretty sure they can see your shoes, but you're not moving. You hold your breath, your heart racing so fast you're surprised it hasn't just teleported out of your chest.
The robot brings the box closer to its masked face, and you can feel the heat of its gaze—or maybe that's just your own fear burning through the metal. You shrink into yourself, trying to become as small as possible. It's like playing hide and seek in kindergarten, except if you're found, it's game over. You clutch the remaining twinkies to your chest, your knuckles turning white. If 'Freedom' had to go out, it's going to be with a fight.
You gulp, hard. And you hope they didn't hear it. Without missing a beat, the robot swiftly begins to walk with the box in the direction they were originally going, and your legs sway in the air. Holy fucking shit!
They're taking you with them, and you can't do anything but hope that they don't notice you. Or that they don't decide to crush you like a bug. Or that they don't decide to eat you like a snack. They don't eat humans, do they? Or.. at least in that way, right? You try to keep your breaths shallow, your eyes wide open while you grip the edges of the crate. The smell of oil and metal is strong, but it's the fear that's really overwhelming.
The only thought that floats within your mind is the question of where the hell they're taking you to. Man, if you could use your swimsuit right now and fly into the sunset, you would. But unfortunately, you think they would sense you the moment you try to take it out.
Your hands grow tired, and you can almost feel yourself slipping. Sweaty, gross fingers slowly slide down the metal, leaving evidence of your unfortunate position. In the nick of time, you manage to spot a little dent in the box, a perfect fit for you. With your knowledge of parkour videos, you swiftly and quietly make your way to the dent. Each grab of your fingers on the metal you swear your hands are going to fall off.
Luckily, you manage to make it in time. The dent in the box looks suspiciously like a hole that was chewed through, you shiver at the thought of some mini robo-alien living in here. If there was, well, at least your death would be kept a secret.
You enter the box and make yourself as at-home as you can. The sharp edges and hard materials inside aren't really the best thing for you to lay down on, especially with only a small source of light to see what exactly you're touching. No blanket to cover yourself, and no pillow to rest your head on. You kind of miss the bed Starscream got you.
Should you have stayed after all? You ponder for a second before shrugging. What's done is done.
And without a word, you lay down on the cold, hard bottom, staring out of the small hole into the halls of the Nemesis. The purple robots have stopped talking now, you notice. You aren't even sure if all of them are still there. All you know now is this guy is taking you somewhere— some place on the ship.
Well, goodbye, my 'Freedom.'
"So there I am on the lookout, when out of nowhere these high beams light up my rear view."
Cliffjumper's voice crackles over the radio, a hint of amusement in his tone as he recounts a past escapade. Mark, strapped into the driver seat, tries to keep his focus on the horizon, but the thought of where you could be makes him anxious.
"And then it hits me— I'm illegally parked!"
Arcee's reprimands and Cliffjumper's laughter echoes through the radio, and Mark tries his best to chuckle in response. He has no idea how to talk to these guys. The conversation feels like a dance he doesn't know the steps to, awkward and clumsy. He's just a human, tagging along with alien robots on a mission to save his sister. What does he even contribute?
Maybe some small talk? Always works.
"So, how do you guys, you know, not get claustrophobic when you turn into cars?" Mark asks with a steady voice, albeit feeling incredibly awkward.
The car bounces a bit, maybe he wasn't expecting that question? Cliffjumper is quiet for a bit, seemingly pondering over his answer before responding. "Well, Mark, it's all about perspective. In your human terms, I believe it's more like putting on a really snug pair of shoes. Sure, it takes some getting used to, but once you're in, you're ready to run a marathon."
Cliffjumper's response is met with a snort from Arcee, and Mark feels a small weight lift from his shoulders. He nods, his back stiff against the seat, trying to play it cool. "Gotcha," he says into the radio, letting out an exhale.
"You know me, Arcee. Mess with Cliffjumper—"
"— and you get the horns." She finishes wryly, and the tension in the car seems to ease slightly. As if she's heard that line a million times.
The boisterous laugh of Cliffjumper crackles through the radio once again, and Mark finally feels like he can talk now. No awkwardness, no twiddling with his thumbs like a dumbass, and no stiff back.
"You guys seem like good frie—"
Mark's words are cut off by a beeping noise coming through the radio, a signal with a red dot appearing on the screen. Come on, really? He realizes that it might be a clue to where you are, so he pushes his annoyance away.
"I'm getting a signal." Cliffjumper's voice cuts through, turning the car's atmosphere from light-hearted to intense in a nanosecond. "Need backup?" Arcee questions, but her tone makes it seem like she knows the answer already.
"Do I ever need backup?" Of course. On Arcee's end, if she were in her bipedal form, she would be shaking her helm and smirking.
Mark, feeling like a third wheel, clears his throat. "Hey, sorry to interrupt the party, but what's with the beeping?" A clue to where you could be, perhaps? He really hopes it is. The longer he spends without you the more his sanity slips away. And his sanity is already near zero when he's talking to you.
The dashboard lights up with a map, the red dot pulsing rhythmically. Cliffjumper's screen flashes as he focuses on the signal. "Looks like we've got ourselves a lead." Mark's expression lights up. "On my sister, right? Please tell me it is!" He pleads, desperate for any information.
"Woah, easy there! I'm heading there now, so we'll see. But don't worry, kid. You'll get your sister back."
Cliffjumper speeds up, the engine purring with power as Mark's heart races in his chest. The map on the dashboard shows the red dot moving closer and closer to a particular spot. He can't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread.
With a screech, Cliffjumper drifts and comes to a stop. He whistles through the radio, comming Arcee in the process. "I just found a whole lot of energon."
'Energon'? Mark remembers the words coming from Starscream in the mineshaft. That blue crystal.. "Is that... is that good?" Mark's voice is shaky, the anticipation thick in the air.
"It's not good or bad, kid. It's just... convenient." Cliffjumper says, his voice tight. The car door opens and the crunch of gravel underfoot is the only sound as Mark steps out.
The sunset's air in Jasper is cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of Cliffjumper's interior. The sky above is a vast canvas of yellows and pinks, swirling together like a sea of fruits scattered by a giant's hand. It's beautiful, but unfortunately, the beauty is marred by the looming presence of the Nemesis, casting a long shadow over the landscape.
Cliffjumper transforms and surveys over the energon deposit carefully before looking up with a stern gaze. "Looks like we've got company," he balls his servos together, preparing for battle.
"Decepticons."
Mark, on the other hand, had been looking at the ship ever since he had stepped out of driver's seat. He's been frozen in fear, save for the trembling of his legs.
'Is that...'
"Can— can you tell me what the actual fuck that thing is?!" Mark shouts feebly, his eyes glued to the Nemesis, the sheer size of it making him feel like a tiny ant under a giant magnifying glass. He tries to suppress the urge to run away, remembering that Optimus and the others had promised his safety.
Beside him, Cliffjumper puts a digit up to his audial, signaling for Arcee. "'Cee, I might not need backup, but Mark needs someone to take him back to base. I can't risk his safety here."
Mark's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait, what? No, no, no, I'm coming with you! I can't just sit around and wait!" His voice cracks, and for a moment, he feels like he's about to break down. "Ratchet said my sister might be in there, right?!"
Cliffjumper turns to Mark, his gaze softening slightly. "Look kid, I know you want to help, but it's not safe. This is a war zone, not a playground. You're better off returning to base with Arcee. Prime's orders."
Mark's eyes dart back to the ship, then to Cliffjumper, his determination unwavering. "But she's my sister! If she's in there, I need to do everything I can to get her out!" His voice is shaky, but firm.
The Autobot looks into Mark's eyes, though afraid, he can tell there's a surge of determination within him. With an ex-vent, he nods. "Alright, you can stay. But you follow my lead, you get in and you get out, got it?" Mark nods vigorously, his heart racing with excitement and fear.
Arcee, hearing the entire conversation from start to finish, butts in. "Cliff, are you serious?" She isn't at Cliffjumper's location just yet, but she's heading there as fast as she can. Maybe to hit him on the helm a few times.
"I've got to be. He's got more fight in him than we give him credit for." Cliffjumper says, a hint of respect in his voice. He smirks and gives Mark a thumbs up, and Mark can't help but grin back, feeling like he's just earned his first badge of courage.
Their exchange is cut short, however, when beams of light are shot at both of them like lasers.
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!" Mark says, his voice trembling as he ducks down behind Cliffjumper, his heart beating so fast he could've sworn it's going to break free from out of his chest. The heat is unbearable, and he feels like a lobster in a pot, except the water is made of fire and he's burning in hell.
Cliffjumper's metal body shields Mark, his fists balled and ready to protect him. The beams hit the ground around them, sparks flying everywhere like it's the Fourth of July. Mark would rather be enjoying that with you, and not here, in a war between space robots.
Suddenly, a loud boom echoes through the air, shaking the very ground beneath Mark's feeble knees. The world seems to go into slow motion as a massive explosion lights up the area. He throws his arms over his face, bracing for the inevitable heat and shrapnel. The force is so intense it's like a tornado has decided to make a pit stop right beside him.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Cliffjumper's robotic body go flying through the air, the explosion's fiery embrace wrapping around him. His heart feels like it's going to jump out of his chest as he watches Cliffjumper soar into the pit of energon, his form a blur against the orange sky.
"Cliffjumper!" Mark yells, his voice lost in the roar of the explosion, and his hand reaching out in his direction. His eyes are watering from the heat and the dust that fills the air, making it hard to breathe. He sees the Autobot's body slam into the ground a hundred feet away, his heart dropping along with him.
All hope is lost. Or..
The explosion's aftermath leaves Mark trembling, the heat still licking at his skin. The smell of burning metal and the acrid taste of fear coats the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to clear the dust from his lungs as he peeks down to see where Cliffjumper landed.
Carefully, Mark starts to make his way down into the ditch, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to spot any signs of movement or the tell-tale glow of a laser beam. His sneakers slip on the loose gravel, sending a cascade of pebbles tumbling down the slope. He winces with each step, praying that the noise doesn't give away his position. The dust clouds around him, obscuring his view of the battle below, making him feel like he's navigating a minefield.
"Cliffjumper!" He whispers again, his voice strained with urgency. The Autobot had to be okay, right? He was practically indestructible. Or at least, that's what he hoped. But amidst the dust and fog, a faint sound reaches Mark's ears—a grunt, and then a few thumps. He swivels his head, trying to pinpoint the source, and then it hits him. 'It's coming from that direction!'
Without a moment's hesitation, Mark sprints toward the silhouette of Cliffjumper, his legs burning with each step. The dust cloud is thick, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him. He's racing against time, fearing the worst but hoping for the best. The boom of the explosion is still echoing in his ears, a grim reminder of the danger they both face.
He bumps into a few of those large energon crystals along the way, the contact making his skin burn slightly.
As the dust begins to settle, a figure emerges from the smoke, limping slightly. Mark's heart skips a beat. It's Cliffjumper, his metal body scorched and smoking, but standing nonetheless.
"You okay, kid?" Cliffjumper's voice is gruff, but there's a hint of concern underlying it. Mark nods, his eyes wide with shock. "Good," he says, "now let's get out of here before we get company we don't want." Unfortunately, the company is already coming. The dust settles, and with a few shifts of metal, there's purple robots falling down from the ship. They're not the kind of guests he want to have over for tea. They're more like the kind that'll eat his house and his dog.
"Wh— What are those things?!" Mark stammers, his eyes wide with horror as the purple Decepticons drop from the sky like metallic rain.
Cliffjumper's gaze sharpens as he looks over Mark's shoulder. "Those are Vehicons," he says through gritted dentae, his servo hovering over his arm plating. "And they don't usually take well to uninvited guests." Mark's eyes dart back to the falling Decepticons, his stomach doing a somersaults. "Vehicons?!" The name alone sounds like something out of a nightmare.
"Yeah, and they're not here for a chat." Cliffjumper says, his voice tight with urgency. He helps Mark to his feet, his servo surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior. He puts his digit up to his audial again, "Arcee... About.. that backup.."
Mark nods, his legs still wobbly as he tries to get his bearings. The Vehicons are now in full view, their metallic forms twisting and turning in the air like dancers of doom. The sound of their engines is a cacophony, a symphony of horror. Their visors a terrifying red, piercing into Mark's very soul.
"Come on," Cliffjumper says, his digit on Mark's arm firm but reassuring as he nudges him back. "We've got to move."
If Mark were not here, he'd indulge them for a bit, pounding his fists into their frame without holding back. But he thinks, somewhere deep in his processor, that the human is somewhat like him. And he likes that, and wants to protect that with his spark. With a nod, Cliffjumper transforms into his vehicle mode while Mark quickly hops in. "You're gonna wanna hold on tight, kid!" Cliffjumper says, and with a roar, he drives directly up the ditch, straight to the Vehicons. Mark's knuckles are white on the dashboard, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drummer gone mad.
'What the fu— '
Cliffjumper's gas pedal slams down and the car zooms up the side of the ditch, the wheels spinning and kicking up gravel. Mark feels like he's riding a rollercoaster designed by a lunatic, except this is real, and the stakes are much, much higher. Mark's words are cut off as he's suspended into the air, time going in slow motion for him yet again. He sees the Vehicons' visors glance upwards at them as they fly overhead.
Mark winces as he's jostled around in Cliffjumper's interior after hitting the ground, his eyes wide and his heart racing. The car's tires screech as they hit the asphalt, leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind them. The Vehicons are fast, their forms like a blur of purple metal as they give chase, their engines snarling like a pack of angry beasts.
"Cliff! I'm here. Whe— What the frag?!" Arcee's voice cuts into the radio, Mark assumes she's seen the Nemesis floating above them.
"I've got visuals. Cliff, you guys need to get out of there—now!"
Arcee's voice is a beacon in the chaos, a reminder of the backup that's just a radio call away. Mark's knuckles are near a pale white as he clutches the dashboard, his eyes darting between the Vehicons in the rearview and the looming shadow of the Nemesis. The car swerves as Cliffjumper avoids incoming fire, his driving as erratic as a pinball in a machine set to tilt.
'H-Holy fucking shit. Breathe, Mark. Breathe. In, out, in and out, in and—'
The words are a mantra in his mind as Cliffjumper weaves through the desert landscape, the Vehicons closing in fast. Mark's eyes are glued to the rearview, watching the relentless pursuit. His heart feels like it's trying to break through his ribcage, pounding like a drum in a death march.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, a blue motorcycle appears in the mirror, slicing through the air like a blade. The Vehicons' pursuit is abruptly interrupted as the motorcycle cuts between them, a blur of color and sound that leaves Mark blinking in astonishment. Arcee!
"Nice one, 'Cee." Clifjumper shouts into the radio as Arcee's bike form zooms past them, her engine revving.
"Anytime, Cliff." She says coolly, her voice steady amidst the chaos. Arcee's bike form weaves through the Vehicons, her movements so graceful it's as if she's dancing in the middle of a battlefield. Mark's eyes widen in amazement as he watches the blue motorcycle dart and dodge, leaving a trail of smoke and sparks in her wake.
But the reprieve is short-lived. In the corner of his eye, Mark spots more Vehicons, this time coming from the other side. "Look out!" He yells, pointing frantically at the new threat. Cliffjumper's rearview mirrors flicker towards the movement, scanning the horizon. "Scrap," he mutters, "We're surrounded."
With a sharp turn, Cliffjumper sends himself hurtling back in the direction of the energon mine. Mark's stomach lurches as the world spins around them, the once safe haven now a trap. "We're going back to where we started?" He questions, his voice a squeak, cracking embarrassingly with fear. He wants to puke, but this is a living, breathing being he's inside. Kind of disrespectful. And gross.
"It's the only way, kid," Cliffjumper's voice is tight, "We can't outrun them forever. We need to lose them."
Taking in his words, Mark nods vigorously and holds onto the seat belt for dear life. Cliffjumper swerves sharply, tires screeching, as they head back towards the energon ditch. The Vehicons follow, their engines a chorus of menace in his ears. The ditch's gaping mouth looms closer, until all the energon crystals can be seen clearly. Cliffjumper knows Arcee has his back, no doubt about it. But right now, she's occupied, and they're about to head right back to the ditch. He needs to think of something, fast.
"Hold on, Mark," Cliffjumper says, his voice strained as the gas pedal goes down, the car rocketing forward. The Vehicons are closing in, their red visors fixed on their prey. With a loud thud, Cliffjumper and Mark hit the ground inside the energon ditch. The impact jolts Mark's teeth, his head smacking against the headrest as the car comes to an abrupt stop. He blinks rapidly, trying to shake off the stars dancing in his vision.
"You okay?" Cliffjumper asks, his voice strained with concern as he transforms back into his bipedal mode. Mark nods, though the world is still spinning like a top.
"Uh— Uh-huh. J-Just gimme a sec.." He chokes out.
Cliffjumper nods and turns his attention back to the Vehicons. They're circling like vultures, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His servo is balled up, ready to unleash a barrage of punches if any of them get too close. His other servo is firmly planted on Mark's back, keeping him steady. Mark's eyes are still spinning, trying to focus on anything that isn't moving.
A loud screech of metal fills the air, the Vehicons transform, their purple forms unfolding into towering giants with arms like cannons and legs that could crush a car. They stand at the edge of the ditch, staring down at Mark and Cliffjumper with a hunger that could only be satiated by their destruction.
Or, well, that's what Mark can see, at least.
"Looks like we're in for a rough ride," Cliffjumper says, his voice unbelievably calm. Mark can't help but admire the robot's coolness under pressure, even though he's pretty sure his own legs would've turned to jelly by now. In an instant, they begin to fire at Cliffjumper and Mark, the ground around them exploding like a series of fireworks gone haywire. The heat and pressure from the explosions make Mark's ears ring and his vision swim. He tries to stand, but his legs wobble like a newborn fawn's.
"Stay down!" Cliffjumper barks, his armored body positioned between Mark and the incoming fire. His voice is a comforting thunder, grounding Mark in the face of overwhelming terror. Said Autobot dodges all the incoming blaster fire with ease, shifting almost gracefully yet with profound urgency.
Mark regains most of his composure and his eyes dart to the Vehicons. He realizes that, they aren't actually aiming for Cliffjumper. No, they were actually aiming for the energon crystals behind him.
"Wait— they're not trying to hit us! They're—"
At Mark's quiet voice beneath the fire, Cliffjumper swerves his head around just in time to see that the Vehicons were shooting at the energon. He hurriedly attempts to shield Mark, but unfortunately it was too late.
An exploision so fierce, it seems like the very sky itself has been ripped apart by a giant hand, and the color blue has decided to bleed into the fabric of reality. The energon crystals detonate in a blast that sends shockwaves through the Earth, shaking the very ground beneath them. Mark's ears ring, his vision going white. For a second, everything is silent except for the ringing.
The silence is a stark contrast to the chaos that was just seconds ago. He tries to blink but it feels like someone's thrown sand in his eyes. His body feels like it's been slammed into a brick wall, then thrown into a blender. Every muscle, every bone, every atom of his being is screaming in protest. He tries to call out for Cliffjumper, but his voice is a mere whisper, lost in the cacophony of his own pain.
Slowly, the ringing in his ears starts to fade away. It's replaced by a faint hiss, a metallic whisper that cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter. It takes a few moments for his eyes to readjust to the world around him. The smoke is thick, a foggy haze that clings to the air like a cloak of doom. He blinks, trying to clear his vision, and through the smoke he sees it. The silhouette of a robot, crumpled and unmoving. Though, one of his horns was missing.
"—jumper! Cliffjumper!"
Cliffjumper's audial receptors were completely blown out, and his frame was torn and nearly the paint shredded to bits. But he was still online, his servo reaching for Mark, albeit weakly, who was still lying on the ground, a few feet away from the explosion's center. Cliffjumper tries to move, he can't He tries so hard. With every ounce of strength in his frame, but to no avail.
"Don't... worry," he whispers through gritted dentae, his voice barely audible over the ringing in Mark's ears.
"—you! Cliff, behind you!" Mark shrieks as he sees two silhouettes coming into vision within all the smoke. He tries to stand up, but his legs feel like spaghetti noodles. Cliffjumper's optics flicker, the blue that was once as bright as the sun now dull.
"I...I can't," he whispers, the pain in his voice starkly contrasting the humor he usually carried. He chuckles weakly as the two Vehicons latch onto his arms, their metallic grips biting into his already damaged frame. His optics don't lose Mark's gaze, the human's eyes wide with terror and concern.
'Get up, get the fuck up! Do something, for fucks sake!' Mark yells at himself internally, adrenaline pumping through his veins like a river in a flood. Yet the stinging pain of energon on his skin is enough to halt his movement, and he grips a rock on the floor with a hiss.
Cliffjumper whispers Mark's name again, his optics dimming, "M-Mark...you...you have to...go..."
"Get to.. A-Arcee" His vox crackles, and for a moment, Mark thinks it's his own ears playing tricks on him. But then he sees it—Cliffjumper's optics, fading from a fierce blue to a sad, almost mournful, dim light. "But Cliffjumper! I-I can't just leave you here!" Mark's voice cracks, his eyes brimming with tears. The Autobot's grip on his arm tightens briefly before going slack.
The Vehicons ignore Mark's pleas, their cold, gleaming visors fixed on their prize as they hoist Cliffjumper's damaged form out of the ditch. The scene unfolds before him like a nightmare, a twisted tableau of metal and destruction.
"N-No.."
Mark's voice is barely a whisper, his heart in his throat as he watches the Vehicons drag Cliffjumper away. The smoke starts to clear, revealing the monstrous silhouette of the Nemesis, descending from the heavens like a dark angel come to claim its due. A small part beneath the ship opens, and with a metallic screech, it swallows both the Vehicons and the near lifeless form of Cliffjumper whole.
The world seems to tilt around him, and Mark's mind goes blank for a moment. He's just a human, a tiny, insignificant speck in a war of giants. Yet here he is, knee-deep in a battle that's been raging for millennia, fighting for a world he thought he knew. His thoughts are a jumble of fear, anger, and despair. He wasn't able to do anything like he promised he would! A flurry of emotions are going through him, and he doesn't even know what to feel anymore as he watches the Nemesis fly away.
But as the smoke starts to clear, the image of the Nemesis is replaced by something entirely different. A certain blue motorcycle, her frame twisted and scratched, staring down at him in horror. It's Arcee. She's made it here, somehow, her bike mode looking like it's been through hell and back. Her optics are wide, her engine purring in a low, pained whine.
The ground rumbles beneath them, and Mark's head snaps up to see the familiar glow of the ground bridge opening up just a few feet away. Through the gap, the silhouettes of his new, unofficial friends appear—Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Ratchet, and even Optimus, weapons at the ready. His heart leaps into his throat. He's not alone. The Autobots have come. But Cliffjumper...
His head swivels to Arcee, desperation etched on his face, "We have to get to the ship! We have to save him!"
"What do you mean? The ship?—" The color from Arcee's faceplate drains in horror as she connects the dots. "Cliffjumper...no."
Her voice is a mix of grief and anger, her optics flickering with a rage that could fuel a sta. Mark's chest feels like it's being crushed by a giant metal fist as he watches the ship disappear into the horizon. But he can't give up, not yet. He's come too far, seen too much.
Arcee sprints into the ditch, her movements swift and precise. She reaches into the smoking debris and pulls out Cliffjumper's missing horn, the metal hot to the touch. Her grip is firm, and she turns to the Autobots and Mark, her expression a mix of grief and sorrow.
She turns to Ratchet, revealing Cliffjumper's torn off horn. "Ratchet, Can you track his position?" Optimus questions, the grouped up Autobots' optics turn towards the medic. Ratchet opens up a compartment located within his frame, a screen flashing online showing all Autobot's life signals. His optics widen as he sees a certain dot blink rapidly before disappearing completely.
"No... Cliffjumper's life signal.. just went offline."
Mark's shoulders slump, as if all life and hope was just sucked out of him into empty space.
"I- I'm—"
Mark's voice is cut off by Arcee's swift transformation, speeding off with Cliffjumper's horn in her grasp
"We're not leaving without him," she says, her voice cold as steel.
The other Autobots look at the ground in silence, their optics dimming slightly. They know the stakes, the risks. They've lost comrades before, and this is no different. This is personal, the bond between Arcee and Cliffjumper, and they know they can't lose another ally—especially not one who's been fighting alongside them for millennia.
With a solemn nod, Optimus transforms into his mighty semi-truck form, his cab doors swinging open with a metallic clank! His engine purrs to life, the sound echoing through the canyon like the roar of a lion.
Bumblebee, his yellow frame gleaming despite the dust and scrapes from the battle, shifts into his car form. His driver's side door opens with a soft hiss, the interior light flicking on, casting a warm glow onto the debris-covered ground. His side mirror tilts slightly, motioning him to get in. Mark nods, his eyes never leaving the horizon where the Nemesis had vanished.
With a grunt, he pulls himself into the car, his body feeling like it's made of lead. The door shuts with a comforting thunk, the sound of metal on metal sealing him into the safety of Bumblebee's interior. The world outside seems so far away, yet the heat from the explosion still lingers, a stark reminder of what's at stake.
He swallows, and his throat feels dry from all the yelling.
"Let's go," he says, his voice cracking.
...
On one of the many cliffs in Jasper, car doors slam shut within certain Autobots as they transform, the metal folding into a familiar form. The desert air is hot and dry, though the sun doesn't beat down on Mark like hours prior. The only sounds are the Autobot's transforming and their heavy ex-vents.
They stand in a tight circle, the now orange-purple sunset casting long shadows behind them. Light plays off their metal, turning them into silhouettes of heroes, a painting come to life. The tension is thick, the potential loss of their comrade heavy on their frames.
Mark, though a mere human, stands as tall as he can beside them, his shoulders squared but his jaw clenched. The weight of the situation presses down on him like a mountain, but he refuses to let it break him. Despite barely knowing him at all, Mark is not going to let Cliffjumper's sacrifice be in vain. None of them will.
"We must not allow our anger over the loss of Cliffjumper to impair our judgement."
Optimus' voice cuts through the heavy silence like a sword, strong and unyielding. His words are a sobering reminder of the gravity of their situation. The loss of a team member, a loved one, is a wound that never truly heals, but now is not the time to mourn. Now is the time to act. Mark resonates with the feeling quite well.
"We owe it to ourselves," Arcee steps forward.
"To the memory of Cybertron," She lifts her helm, streaks of dried energon leaking from her optics visible to the naked eye.
"To any Autobots in any galaxy seeking safe harbour," She holds the broken off horn of her companion, Cliffjumper, in her scratched up servos.
"To humankind," Arcee ex-vents, and with a swallow of her intake, she crouches down.
"And we owe it to the memory of our fallen comrade, to survive." She carefully sets Cliffjumper's horn down onto the rocks, her gaze fierce but holding a familiar sense of longing. She turns toward the blazing sunset, the light bouncing off their damaged armor, painting them in a faint orange glow.
"If Cliff is gone, standing around here sulking won't bring him back." Mark watches as she walks toward the horizion, the light casting a fiery glow upon her frame. "So unless anyone minds, think I'll get back to protecting human kind." Her voice is raspy, raw with an emotion she's trying so hard to keep in check. The remaining Autobots look at her, then each other. They know she's right. They can't let this beat them. Not now, not ever.
Arcee transforms without even a glance back, and drives off. Her tires kick up dust as she speeds away from the group, her bike engine echoing through the desert. Mark watches her retreating form, feeling a pang of sadness mixed with admiration. Despite her pain, she's pushing forward, driven by a fierce determination to honor Cliffjumper's sacrifice. He wishes he could be as strong as her one day.
As Mark turns to face the others, he's met with a sea of solemn expressions. Bulkhead's massive form is hunched slightly, his usual jovial attitude nowhere to be found. Ratchet's intake is slammed shut, his arms folded tightly across his chassis. And Bumblebee simply stares at the horizon, his optics reflecting the dying light of the setting sun.
Optimus Prime remains still, his towering figure a stronghold of stoicism amidst the chaos. His gaze is fixated on the spot where Arcee disappeared into the desert, the dust from her tires slowly settling like a veil over the harsh landscape. There's something in his expression that Mark can't quite pinpoint—a mix of pride, sorrow, and a determination that burns as bright as the sun itself.
"I... I don't get it," Mark stammers, his voice thick with unshed tears. "How do you keep fighting after... after losing someone like that?" The Prime's derma open to respond, but Ratchet's voice cuts him off before he can say a word.
"Optimus, helping humans will only result in more tragedy." Ratchet doesn't look at Mark, but he feels a deep pit in his stomach, as if knowing that the medic may be referring to him.
"Your opinion is noted." Optimus replies, no longer staring at Mark. His gaze remains fixed on the horizon.
Bumblebee, however, doesn't respond. Instead, he just whirs solemnly. His usual playful hum has been replaced with something heavier, a tune of sorrow that resonates through the quiet of the desert. The sound is almost haunting in its melancholy, a reminder of the situation at hand.
With a gentle nudge of his fender, he motions for Mark to climb into his cabin. Mark complies, his movements slow and heavy, as if the gravity of the world has suddenly quadrupled. As he settles into the seat, the familiarity of the driver seat is a comfort, a sanctuary in the storm of emotions raging inside him.
He's tired. His body is tired. Everyone is tired.
The drive back to the Autobot base is a silent one. Each Autobot lost in their own thoughts, each processing the loss of Cliffjumper in their own way. The sun has fully disappeared, leaving only the cold embrace of night to keep them company. The stars above seem to wink at them, as if whispering secrets of the universe that they are too caught up in their grief to understand.
Mark feels incredibly guilty, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He's aware that he's not the one fighting the war, not the one who has lost a friend, but he can't help but feel responsible for Cliffjumper's capture. His thoughts are a whirlwind of doubt and fear for you, his sister, who is probably trapped on the Nemesis, and for the Autobot who had risked so much just to protect him.
To protect him.
He realizes that, if you and him had not gone to the mine, if you and him hadn't gotten yourselves tangled up in this situation, if he never even *told* you about his fixation on alien rumors, Cliffjumper would be alive.
If he never convinced Optimus to let him come with, Cliffjumper would've came out with barely a scratch.
Mark gulps, his throat tight. "I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. "I'm sorry I got him into this. I'm sorry..." His hands and arms cup his head, keeping him from screaming at himself.
The radio buzzes to life, sad humming coming from it. Bumblebee's beeping, though not his usual cheerful tune, makes a series of noises. It's like he's trying to comfort him, but unfortunately, Mark can't understand a word. Instead, his shoulders slump into the seat and he sighs heavily.
He hadn't only lost you, but he made the Autobots lose one of their own, he thinks.
Somewhere on the Nemesis, a Vehicon sets down a metal box, the sound of metal colliding with more metal echoing throughout the corridors.
The contents inside? You. And probably a tiny little mechanical spider. Maybe.
You wake up with a start, your eyes snapping open to darkness. Your head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, and your body is sore. Probably from all the walking, you think. There's a faint light coming from the small hole, casting eerie shadows across the bottom of the box. You blink, trying to adjust to the darkness, and that's when you see it—something small and metallic, skittering across the floor of the box.
'Uhm.. What the hell is that?'
You lean closer, squinting, your heart racing as the metallic creature moves into the light. It's definitely a spider—except it's made of metal and wires, with tiny evil eyes that gleam in the darkness. "Hey there buddy.. Aren't you just a cute little—" It swipes at you, and you try to knock it away, but it's too quick. Its kind of cute, you think.
"H-Hey! Stop!" You hiss at it, trying to keep your voice low. You don't know if you're in the clear yet, or if there are more of those... things...roaming around. Or even the little purple dudes. Or maybe even Starscream! The robot spider darts away, retreating into the shadows.
But within an instant, it jumps onto your head, it's sharp legs pinching your skin. You yelp.
"Oww!"
Notes:
ok so you miiiiiiiiiiight be seeing megatron soon too haha (im fucking stupi)d
i KNOW i said you wont be but maybe i was a bit wrong cuz i think i have something planned for him now
Chapter 5: It's Alive!
Summary:
You fuck around (the ship), and you find out. Good thing luck is on your side! Or is it?
Finally, you make a new friend! (And maybe one more?) Not only that, but you and your new friend are hungry, and if you don't get some food any time soon you're gonna freak it in front of all the Decepticons.
Notes:
Did i forget to post this? absolutely
Warnings: it's pretty mild, but i'll put it here anyway.
Mildly detailed descriptions of comparing cliffjumper's mangled frame to an actual human body (mild gore)
And if im missing anything PLEASE tell me. I didn't look over this as much as I wished and i;m tired as fuuuuuuck
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Growl.
The sound of your stomach's needs being ignored left you with an uncomfortable feeling.
You were so fucking hungry.
So hungry, that you could eat a horse.
The surviving twinkies had been eaten ages ago, and your room temperature water had, unfortunately, gone down your throat. Guh. You really didn't like that feeling. You could feel your stomach rumble like a small earthquake, and your mouth was drier than the desert below. Probably below. Are you even above Nevada right now?
Had 'Freedom' made it this far, you would've eaten it too.
But here you were, in a room that could've passed for a five-star hotel—except for the metal walls, the lack of windows (unless the hole in the box counts), and the constant thumps of the metal giants passing by. Which, honestly, scares you half to death every time it happens.
To nobody's surprise, your stomach growls again. It's as if it's saying, 'Feed me, you dumb fuck! You and I will both die, anyway.'
A shift on your head snaps you out of your thoughts.
You and the little metal critter had become great friends. It was a bumpy start, but you think it's warmed up to you now. You tried to feed it some of your twinkies, but it was completely uninterested, the unmoving creature letting you smudge the cream on it's body. Unbelievable! Everyone loves twinkies. Ever since it jumped on you, you had thought it was going to maul your head off. But it simply gripped the top of your head with all its legs and sat there like cat. Almost like it was controlling you.
Maybe it was trying to mind control you, but you were just too strong! Take that! I'm superior!
"I'm sorry," you whisper to it, lifting your arm above your head to stroke its metal body gently. It was just a tiny little thing. There's no way that it was a killing machine like the robots out there, right? It had feelings, you were sure of it. "I'm sorry you tried to kill me and I tried to kill you. Won't happen again. Pinky promise." You smiled, stuck out your pinky and waited for it to reciprocate the gesture, but it never came, the creature still stuck to your head like glue.
Your smile dropped into a frown and you dropped your arm with a sigh. "Or not, I guess..." Oh well. Maybe it's time to explore more?
You stood up, stretching your legs. You had been sitting on the floor for what felt seemed like an eternity, bored, and trying to make sense of what was happening outside on a half empty stomach. Another journey to the robotic world outside would mean you would need sustenance. But where the hell would you find human food on this ship? Fuck, if you knew the ship was this big, you would've just dragged the entire box from Starscream's hab-suite with you. Fuck. Looks like you didn't think this through.
"You okay, buddy?" You ask the creature, giving it a gentle pat. It doesn't move, but clicks in what you assume is a comforting way. You took that as a good sign. "Okay, let's go get some grub, shall we?"
Okay, let's do this. With more confidence than last time, you prepared to set off. Seeing as you survived the last few encounters, you believed you were more than prepared for what's to come.
Climbing out of the hole, your eyes adjusted to your surroundings while the little robot clung to your head like a crown. The hallways are eerily quiet, the only sound being the echo of your own boots hitting the ground. You don't know where to go, but you're pretty sure there's got to be some kind of kitchen or something here. You've seen enough movies to know that big ships need to feed their crews, or something like that.
These things survived off of energon, right? Or, at least, that's what you got from Starscream's luxurious babble of words you didn't understand. Something about inserting energon crystals into their mouth in a sexual motion or something.
But you know what's universal? The need to eat. Surely they had to have something edible for humans on this ship. Unless, of course, you were the main course. Just thinking of being shoved down inside them like a.. nevermind. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought, but you push it away with a grimace.
You start walking, the metallic clicks of what you assume is the critter's mouth providing you with solace. It's weird, having a pet you can't communicate with, but it's oddly comforting. It's the closest thing you have to a friend right now, aside from the now deceased twinkie.
Oh, wait! You gotta give this little guy a name!
You pause mid-step, attempting to look up at the robotic creature on your head. "What should I call you?" You murmur, your voice barely bouncing off the large, metallic hallway.
The little robot shifts slightly, as if contemplating. It then clicks a few times before you hear a faint beep from its metal exoskeleton. Cute. It's a sound, a name maybe? Could it even understand you?
You chuckle to yourself, "Okay, Beeps, let's find some food." You start walking again, your footsteps barely distinguishable. The ship is full with a near unbearable silence, and you can't shake the feeling that something's watching you. But you push forward, driven by hunger and a strange determination to survive.
As you're about to turn a corner, you hear something shut close and more of those footsteps, except it's heading your way. Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze. Hide!
Your eyes dart around and you run to the nearest thing that looks like it could shield you. You didn't make it far, it seems, because you're back at the metal box from earlier, ducked behind a corner as your breaths coming out in short gasps. The clicks of the creature on your head seem like it's just as scared as you are, maybe even terrified. Poor thing. You hold your breath, waiting for the sound of the robotic footsteps to pass.
Beeps, who you thought was as terrified as you, wasn't scared at all.
The little critter jumps off your head and attempts to make its way to the robots. Your heart freezes. No! I don't want you to die yet, I literally just met you!
Arms quickly reaching out, you grab it by its head and lift it flush against your chest. "What were you thinking?! Don't do that again." You scold it silently. Its giant, purple beady eyes stare up at you and it tilts its head. You furrow your eyebrows. "Don't play cute."
You glued your eyes shut as the footsteps came closer and closer, until they eventually passed the both of you.
Phew. That was a close one!
Patting yourself on the back, you exited your hiding spot and opened your eyes to look at the source of the footsteps to find—
"Holy shit!" You covered your muffled squeak with your hand while the other hand flew to cover Beeps'. It was two of those purple robots (how many of them are on this ship?), walking towards the end of the corridor to a large room, while they drag a robot that you haven't seen before on the ground. Streaks of aqua drip and cover the floor behind them, the sound of metal in contact with the ship's floor leaving behind a screeching noise that makes you wince.
Your eyes widen. Dude, that is fucked up.
From your position on the ground, you could barely make out the details. But from what you could see, the red robot definitely didn't look like Knockout, and had what you thought what a million dents and scratches all over.
But then again, maybe Knockout had a twin. Or maybe he got into a nasty fight. Or maybe you were hallucinating because of the lack of food. That last one seemed the most plausible. You chuckle.
The two robots didn't seem to notice you, their attention focused solely on their prisoner. You watch them go, and once they're out of sight, you let out a sigh of relief. "Well, Beeps, we can't stay here forever. We gotta get out of here."
Alright, you. Turn the other way, and find food. Simple as that. You place Beeps back on your head and turn the opposite direction. "Alright, where t—"
"'Scream, it's been a while."
Hold on, *what?*
You turn around so fast that Beeps wobbles a bit before finding balance on your head. An unrecognizable voice reaches your ears, along with a series of sputters and coughs. You realize it's coming from the room those purple guys went to.
''Scream', huh? That has to be Starscream. Who else would have something as dramatical as that for a nickname?
You tiptoe closer to the room, your curiosity getting the better of you. You know you should be looking for food, but you're also dying of thirst for information. Plus, it's not like you're going anywhere without Beeps, right?
Running back, you hide behind the corner of the entrance to the room and peek out from your spot. You see Starscream, looking as dramatic as ever, standing over what looks like a half-dead robot. Ouch. As well as the two purple dudes. You recognize the voice from earlier coming from the red robot on the ground. The room is actually lit this time, a huge window that has light illuminating half the room with colors of the orange sky. Plus the occasional sparks that fly from the robot's body. The smell of burnt metal and ozone fills the air, making you cringe.
Blue liquid oozes from its frame. Is that.. energon? Wow, they bleed it too? It's all robot drugs with these guys, you think. You never knew it could come in liquid form. If you did, you would've been able to digest it easier.|
Your eyes squint as you try to make out their voices.
"So, where's your master?" The red robot tilts its head up weakly, but says its words with a strong confidence despite the situation.
Starscream's derma twitch in disgust as he looks down at the defeated form of the red robot, his voice dripping with contempt. "Never mind him! I'm my *own* master." He spits out, his optics narrowing into slits. The red robot, barely hanging onto consciousness, coughs out a mouthful of energon, as Starscream shoves his entire hand into his... robo-titty? Anyway, you can tell it hurts. Bad.
You wince, even though you aren't the red dude nor are you a robot. It would hurt being stabbed in the chest by a hot bitch with wings. But you think that is seriously fucked up. But it's not your chest that's being stabbed, thankfully. Your stomach, however, is begging for something, anything, to eat. But you can't just leave like that. Your curiosity is winning yet again.
"Any more questions?" Starscream rasps and leans down as his servo is still impaled into the red robot's robo-boob, energon pooling on the floor beneath him.
You lean in closer, trying to get a better look. Who the hell was this guy? He looked like he's been through a meat grinder. Poor guy. Maybe you can help him, and in return he'll get you food.
Though, the more you think of it, the more it makes you sick. You want to puke even though there's nothing left to throw up from your stomach. He practically just stabbed someone and left them to bleed, right before your eyes. If they were humans, you think the sight would... No, you don't want to think of that. You visibly shiver.
But, what the fuck. They're robots, right? Can't they just get a software update or something? Or just factory reset themselves?
You can't help but think, Maybe it's not that big of a deal. Maybe they don't feel pain like humans do. Or maybe they don't die. Maybe it's all a game to them, like a very intense game of 2048. But the red dude was coughing! So maybe they did. What if energon was actually some drug that aliens drank on the regular? Is that what made them all fucked up in the head? Aw, shit. That means the affects would be worse on you, wouldn't it?
Starscream's servo pulls out of the robot with a screech that pierces your ears. The robot looks at the wound, back up at Starbitch, and then falls to the ground with a loud thud. What the fuck is wrong with these guys...
You watch in horror, but Beeps seems unbothered. It's probably used to this kind of shit, you think. You're about to crawl away to find food when you hear Starscream's voice again.
He stands back up and waves his servo at the purple robots. "Clean that up."
Oh, this lazy ass.
You watch as the two purple robots begin to drag the unconscious robot away, your heart racing. The room is silent again, but Starscream's optics scan the area, as if he's sensing something. You hold your breath, hoping he doesn't find you. But instead, he shrugs it off and turns toward the large window, leaning his arms on the middle console like a villain planning some devious shit.
What is up with this dude? You think he definitely roleplays My Little Pony with Megatron. You realize the purple robots are dragging the robot the way they came from, and your heart skips a beat. They're going to pass right by where you're hiding! Panic sets in, and you duck behind the door frame, pulling your legs up and pressing your back against the cold metal wall. Beeps clutches onto your head tightly, mirroring your tension. You hold your breath as the dragging sounds get closer and closer, the scraping of metal against the floor making you cringe.
They eventually pass right by you, the streaks of energon getting stomped and spread all over the floor. You quickly look back at the large room to see if Starscream was looking, but he seemed a little too engrossed in those.. plans of his.
You take a deep breath, deciding it's now or never. You slide out of your hiding spot and you jump.
Jump where? Towards the red robot of course!
You leap from your hiding spot and manage to latch onto one of the horns sticking out from the red robot's head, and it's like your body's instincts kick in. You're like a ninja. A small ninja in a ship of big, sexy murderers. Well, that's only if Starscream's actions were anything to go by. Your legs attempt to wrap around its neck and your arms struggle to hold on. You can feel Beeps squeeze tighter into your head, it's legs digging into your scalp in fear.
This guy is fucking huge! Well, you don't know about that, but maybe it is. Does size matter in this situation? It's incredibly difficult for you to hold on the robot due to, 1, it being dragged on the floor, and 2, you trying not to make any noise.
The two purple dudes don't seem to notice, thankfully, their footsteps echoing down the hallway. You cling onto the robot for dear life, your knuckles turning white and your heart racing like a cheetah on steroids. You wish you were a cheetah on steroids, actually. You'd rather be free, running around in a field and catching prey to save for later than being the prey that was actually kept as a pet.
Beeps had other plans for the robot, unfortunately.
The creature on your head began to click rapidly, making you realize it's probably trying to communicate something. You tighten your grip on the red robot's horn, hoping it doesn't start moving again. It probably can't, you think, because that stab looked lethal. You whisper to Beeps, "What's up?"
It doesn't respond, not like it can. Instead, it shakes violently before opening its mouth, revealing multiple arrays of teeth that are sharper than chef's kitchen knife.
Hoooooly fucking shit! My pet cat is a fucking piranha! That's pretty cool. But you'll get caught if this continues.
Its legs crawl down your face (Ouch), then to the arm that's holding onto the horn (Double ouch), and it faces the two purple robots like it's gonna shred them to pieces. (And shit, ouch)
Your other arm disconnects from the red armor and reaches out to grab Beeps, the only part you're able to catch being one of its tiny legs. It pays no mind to you and its mouth begins to move at speeds that not even you thought possible. Whirring noises come from Beeps, and you're sure the purple guys are about to turn their heads. In an instant, you yank Beeps back, which you'll apologize for, but not now.
"You're gonna get me in trouble!" You whisper-yell, but it's too late. Beeps has already done the damage, its whirring noise now a full-on roar in the quiet hallway. The purple robots stop in their tracks, and you can practically feel their sensors honing in on your position. You clutch onto the red robot's horn with all your might, hoping to God that your combined weight doesn't alert them to your presence.
Fuck it all.
You let go of Beeps, and hope that if you get separated, you'll meet again in the near future. You shrink back and climb down the robot's head until your body barely meets the floor.
The purple robots stop, and their heads swivel in your direction, visors glowing a darker red as they search for the source of the sound. You hold your breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcage.
When they look down, they are mortified.
Ignoring Starscream's order, they drop the red robot's legs and bolt back to where they came from, their panic palpable even in their robotic movements. You watch in amazement (astonishment) as the purple figures retreat, the fear in their mechanical visors unmistakable. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding and look back at Beeps—
Oh my gosh.
—who is not there anymore.
It is instead, chasing the purple robots, a blur of teeth and clicks echoing down the corridor. You watch in a mix of horror and fascination as your newfound pet has gone full beast mode. Well, I guess it's not so cute anymore. You realize you still need to find something that you can actually digest, and fast, before you end up passing out from hunger.
Maybe it was protecting you? That's cute, yeah, but why did it only do it to the robots and not you? Did it not deem you worthy of being in its tiny robotic stomach? Maybe flesh was too much for its digestive system. You feel offended.
Guess it's just you and Mr. Red now.
You take a moment to gather your wits, then carefully slide off the robot's horn. The red robot's chest is still, but a faint light flickers in its eyes. You lean closer and whisper, "Hey, buddy, you okay?"
...
No response. You try again.
"Hey, are you okay?" You whisper louder this time, leaning in closer to the red robot's face, which is surprisingly handsome for a robot. It's definitely not Starscream's type, though. Because you're his type, right? No?
Nothing. These guys were really anti-social, huh?
"Knock-knock?"
Couldn't even say 'Who's there?' You had a pretty good joke planned out for that one.
You pat the robot's shoulder awkwardly. "Well, I'm gonna go.. look for food. You, uh, stay here, I guess?" You stand up and take a few steps back. You don't know if he can hear you or understand, but it feels right to say something.
Awkwardly, you clear your throat. You're about to leave when the red robot's hand twitches, and you freeze in place. Those eyes, now a dimmer shade of blue, flicker open. Though, not fully. It's alive!
"Ugh..."
Okay, well, barely alive. You need to get this guy some help.
You lean closer to the red robot, its breathing shallow and its eyes still half-closed. "You okay?" You ask again, though you know its not. He looks at you with those half-closed eyes, and you swear you can see the pain in them. They're the same color as the energon you saw earlier, and it makes your stomach turn.
Damn. Maybe you should've saved that little crystal from earlier. If you weren't so greedy then you would've kept it in your pocket and saved it for this exact moment! But you can't exactly go back in time, can you? So you just stand there, looking like a deer in headlights, with a robot that's probably about to kick the bucket.
"Ugh—" The robot starts to cough and sputter, more energon spewing out of its mouth. Gross! But you're not about to leave him here to die. You're not a monster, even if he is a giant robot. Plus, maybe he's got some answers about what the fuck is happening here. You lean closer, trying to ignore the smell of burnt circuits and robo-blood. "You need a doctor or something?" You think of Knockout, he is a doctor, right? Not a BDSM experimentalist that's gonna chain you up to the wall and tease you?
The robot's head doesn't move, nor does it show any sign of acknowledging you. However, it does make more dying noises. Man, you feel like a total asshole. This is so messed up.
Instead of responding, it weakly lifts its arm up to its chest and makes contact with the blue pooling out from inside. Engine sputtering, eyes narrowing and frame shaking, it groans in agony. Yeah, it definitely didn't hear you. Its mouth opens with a heave.
"I'm.. leaking..."
Um.
"I didn't need to know that, bro." The audacity of this thing! Seriously, did it need to admit that out loud? Dying, no less?
You're torn between finding this whole situation utterly absurd and the fact that this robot is legit about to die. And you're pretty sure the robot bleeding out is a good guy, even though it's on the enemy team. Or is it? The plot thickens.
Starscream wouldn't stab one of his own, right? The one in front of you.. could be an Autobutt!
You kneel beside it, trying to get a better look without getting too close to the sticky mess. "You're... not a Decepticon, are you?" You whisper, hoping that the answer isn't going to get you killed. But the robot doesn't respond, just wheezes and coughs up more of that nasty blue stuff.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to risk it. "Hey! Hey, can you hear me?" You shout, a little louder this time. The robot's head twitches, and you see a spark of something in its eyes. It's definitely not dead yet. "You're not with Starscream, right?"
It's a gamble, but the robot's eyes widen a fraction, and you take that as a no. "Good," you murmur, relieved.
"I'm... not with Starscream," it whispers, the voice strained. "I'm... an Autobot. Name's..." It coughs violently, liquid energon splattering onto the floor. "Cliff... Cliffjumper."
Your hands fly up to your mouth to try to stifle the burst of laughter that's threatening to escape you. Seriously, who named these guys? You felt so bad.
"I'- I'm sorry," you say, trying to keep the humor out of your voice. "I shouldn't laugh." But it's just too absurd, a giant robot with a name like Cliffjumper, bleeding out in front of you. The robot, or Cliffjumper, doesn't have the strength to look at you, his eyes fluttering shut again.
Lips snapping shut as you realize that he's probably going to die if you don't do something, you tense up and get a bit closer to his face. "Uhm.. hang in there, bud.." Just not off of a cliff, inner you jokes.
But seriously, you need to do something.
This guy is a living being, apparently fighting in a war. You vaguely recall Starscream saying something about their big robot space quarrel as he brought you to the Nemesis. And now you're sitting here, knees tucked under your chin, probably staring at a dying Autobot. What the fuck.
Would you even be able to save him? You have no knowledge whatsoever of these guys, other than they can be more bitchier than humans.
Hell, you're standing in the middle of a hallway and this guy is bleeding out! What can you even do? Call an ambulance? You shake your head, trying to snap out of it. You can't just sit here and watch him die. You're not that heartless. Plus, if he's on the right side of the robot civil war, then he's basically your ally.
"Tell me, suicidal guy, what do I do?! What wires do I pull? Do I have to turn you off and on or something?!"
Cliffjumper's chuckle is faint, but it's there, a hint of amusement in his weakened state. "No... no need... for... that."
You aren't having it. If luck was on your side, you would not only be able to save yourself, but save Mr. Lobster over here.
"Please, just tell me what I can do to help you..." You're getting desperate, your voice shaking with the weight of the situation. Cliffjumper's chest rises and falls with each labored breath, the sound echoing through the corridor like a mournful melody.
He doesn't respond. Cliffjumper feels like his spark is on the verge of being extinguished with every drop of energon leaving his lines. He knows. He knows that the human beside him is Mark's sibling, and he feels horrible. With the wound that Starscream had caused, it rendered him unable to even move. Small ex-vents escape him, coming out as sputtered bursts of air through his frame. Not only is the world messed up, you are messed up. Ten times more. How dare you almost laugh at a barely alive robot, who, probably— doesn't give two shits about you.
You lean in closer, trying to ignore the smell of burning circuits and metal. "Please," you whisper, your voice shaking. "I don't want you to die."
And I don't want to die, either.
Silence. Absolute, utter silence. At this point, you think he's dead. Gone.
"H-Holy shit. I'm s-sorr— Oww! You fucking bitch!" An apology was definitely in order, but you're cut off by something slapping your head at 70 MPH. At first, you think, Beeps, is that you? But instead, you're met with a huge perfect cube of energon.
When the energon hit your head, you swear you saw a flash of something, but brush it off and instead focus on what's happening.
Even though you're sure nobody else was around, your eyes go crazy trying to see where it came from. Looking up, you spot nothing. Except for a glimpse of something sharp around the corner of the hallway, almost like a wing.
Oh God. Were you about to hand feed this dude? No the fuck you weren't! You didn't sign up to babysit robots. Didn't sign up for any of this, actually.
But, as the cube hits the floor, you realize you might have just gotten lucky. It's energon, alright. This time, you're sure it won't fit inside your mouth. You could, suggests evil you, lick it like a lollipop until it's all in your stomach and your tongue turns blue. However, seeing as you noticed no potential side affects to the energon from before besides stupidity, you thought the idea was foolish to make yourself stupider.
Thank you, whoever did that. You're no doctor, but you're damn sure that this cube won't magically fix the hole in Cliffjumper's chest. But it never hurts to try, right?
You pick up the cube with trembling hands and hold it in front of his face. "Here, can you...?" You don't know if he can eat, or if he even needs to, but it's worth a shot.
He doesn't move.
Fuck! The hard way it is, then. It's already difficult enough to navigate through the halls, but now you have to lift the cube up somehow while climbing onto Cliffjumper. How exactly are you going to accomplish that? You decide to put the cube down for a second and look around for anything that could be a ladder or button or something that could help you get him up. But before you know it, a hand, much larger than yours, grabs the cube and lifts it to the robot's mouth.
Not only your body, but the hairs on your skin stand up at the sight of the hand. It's a purple robot, not Starscream, thankfully (unfortunately). You look up to see the robot that Beeps had been riding (or you think it is, they all look the same) , the one you now dub as Mr. Purple, standing there with a look of admiration on its face. It's the first time you've seen a Decepticon do something that's not trying to kill you or throw you in a cell.
Oh no. It saw you, though. Does that mean you're going to the torture chamber now? Hopefully it's the good kind of torture.
"Hey, uh, thanks for the save." You smile nervously at Mr. Purple, hoping it doesn't rip your head off. It doesn't acknowledge you. It just keeps its focus on the cube and the dying robot in front of you. You watch as Cliffjumper's mouth opens slightly, and the cube is placed inside. You can see the spark in his eyes return to their normal bright blue, and the robotic coughing subsides.
Though, the hole in his chest hasn't closed, as you suspected. Cliffjumper wasn't going to get better from a singular energon cube, because there's literally energon pouring out of him! Going in one hole, coming out the other. Except it's not the right hole.
Beside you, the purple robot panics, servos waving around in the air frantically and frame shaking. Don't tell me this one is dying, too. Ugh, you can't deal with this shit. A series of chirps and clicks come out of it, and you think it's probably cursing something out right now. When its head turns down to look at you, it seems to realize something. Hopefully not thinking to kill you. But to your surprise, it takes a few seconds and then starts speaking motherfucking English!
"Hello! Oh Primus, I've always wanted to meet an Autobot!"
You stare, dumbfounded, as it gushes over poor Cliffjumper, dying and helpless as he is.
"You speak English?!" You blurt out, forgetting that you're supposed to be hiding from these things. The robot nods, its red visor flickering different shades of red. "Oh, this is just fantastic!" It says, almost giddy. "I've heard so much about you, Autobots! I'm designation D-1C-5CKR"
What.
You stare at the purple robot, your eyes wide in disbelief. This is getting weirder by the second. "You're... your name is what?"
"D-1C-5CKR," it repeats, pronouncing each letter with a robotic enthusiasm that somehow makes it sound even more awkward. "But you can call me D-1C! I'm a Vehicon!" Its attention doesn't even shift towards you as it continues to stare at Cliffjumper like a die hard fan.
Wow. This guys name is 'Dick Sucker' and he doesn't even know it. How unfortunate, but at least you know what to call the purple guys now.
"Well, D-1C," you say slowly, trying to process this. "That's... that's a... unique name. Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but this Cliffjumper guy, he's hurt really badly. Do you know anything that can help?" Sure, the energon gave him some power to at least turn his helm to look at the two of you, but his energon lines are still extruding the liquid like a waterfall.
"Yeah," D-1C says, nodding rapidly. "I know a thing or two about that." It reaches into its chest compartment and pulls out a small toolkit, the kind you'd expect a mechanic to have. "I'll patch him up! You can count on me!"
You watch in amazement as the Vehicon, who's supposed to be your enemy, starts to work on Cliffjumper with surprising gentleness. It's clear that despite their programming, D-1C has developed a soft spot for the Autobots. It's a bizarre twist you didn't see coming, and it makes you wonder how many other Vehicons might have similar feelings.
In the middle of mending metal together, D-1C speaks up. "You know, I've never been outside before. I've heard so much about the Autobots that I've always wanted to see them for myself! But, slag, if I had ever tried to ignore my duty, I'd have my aft handed to me!"
D-1C's voice is high-pitched and excited, which is quite a contrast to the grim situation. You watch as it works on Cliffjumper, trying to piece the robot back together. You can't help but feel a bit of hope. Maybe, just maybe, not all Decepticons are like Shitscream and Knock-knock. Maybe there's more to this war than meets the eye.
"That's.. that sucks," you say, getting a bit comfortable. Maybe these guys aren't as bad as you thought? "Why can't you go outside?"
D-1C's visor dims for a moment before it shrugs its shoulders. "I'm just a low-ranked Vehicon. Not meant for the grand battles or the open skies. But I've always wondered what it's like to be free. To choose where I go and who I help. Also because I'm stuck on washrack duty for two deca-cycles."
You don't know what a deca-cycle is, but you can't help but feel a pang of pity for the little guy. Like, he's literally stuck on bathroom duty. That is something nobody would catch you doing in your entire life.
"Why don't you just leave?" You blurt out, not thinking about the consequences of your question. The robot's hands stop for a second before it resumes its work, the question lingering in the air like a bad smell.
"It's not that simple, human," D-1C says, not unkindly. "But I've always dreamed of it. Of joining the Autobots, seeing the stars." It pauses, then looks back at Cliffjumper, who is still unconscious but now seems to be breathing more steadily. "And now, here you are, with an injured Autobot. Perhaps this is a sign that today is the day I get to make a real choice."
You swallow hard, watching as the Vehicon carefully seals the gaping wound in Cliffjumper's chest. The air in the corridor feels charged with tension, but also something else—possibility. "So, you want to... help us?"
Its toolkit snaps shut with a satisfying click. "Yes! I want to help! I want to do something more than just cleaning up after everyone else. And if I can help an actual Autobot, that would be amazing!" It practically squeaks with excitement, but you're too busy trying to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions to laugh.
You look at Cliffjumper, who seems to be in a slightly less dire condition than before. "Okay, so... what now?" You're not sure if he'll be okay, but the fact that you've got a Decepticon willing to patch up an Autobot is a weird sort of miracle. D-1C turns to you with a look of pure excitement. "Now we get you off this ship! You and Cliffjumper both!" It says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Really? I didn't think of that! Thanks for telling me, man.
"Okay. How?" You retort, coming out a bit harsher than intended. You don't mean to sound rude, but come on, nobody on this world would want to be stuck in this situation, right? Unless there was some sign-up board to fuck Starscream, you want out.
D-1C's enthusiasm doesn't wane. "Leave that to me! I know this ship like the back of my hand. I can get you back down to the ground!" You look skeptical. "But what about the other Decepticons? They're not exactly going to give us a warm send-off."
"Uh..." He chuckles nervously, and you deadpan. Yeah, you weren't getting out of here that easily. This is a start, at least. Better than nothing.
"Don't worry," D-1C says, slapping Cliffjumper's arm lightly. "I've got some tricks up my...uh, metaphorical sleeve." It giggles to itself. "We'll have to be sneaky, but I've been practicing!" It sounds like it's bragging about passing a video game level. You can't decide if it's adorable or terrifying.
Practicing what exactly? You don't know, nor do you want to know.
"Alright, D-1C," you say, getting up. "Let's get going. Before someone notices this mess." You gesture towards Cliffjumper's horrible patchwork chest, and the Vehicon nods.
With a huff, D-1C manages to carry the unconscious Cliffjumper somehow, hoisting him up with both arms, carrying him bridal style. Damn, this guy is strong! And what's with the position? You know what, you won't question it this time. You've seen some shit, and a robot carrying another robot like they're running into the sunset doesn't even surprise you anymore.
You follow D-1C, albeit rather slowly, who seems to know the ship like the back of his hand, navigating through the maze of corridors with surprising ease. You're impressed and slightly suspicious. How did a lowly Vehicon know so much? Maybe he's not as lowly as he lets on. Or maybe he's just really prepared for this moment. You really hope you can trust this guy.
Meanwhile, a certain cassette watches from the shadows, observing the interaction with amusement.
"The damage your body has sustained is fatal. I can do a visual examination, but my equipment is not suited for humans."
Mark lays patiently on the table, his heart racing as he tries to ignore the pain shooting through his body. The Autobots hover around, concern etched onto their faceplates. Arcee, however, was nowhere to be found. Ratchet has tried to patch him up the best he can, but he's not out of the woods yet.
"The effects of energon on your feeble human bodies is greater than I had anticipated. Slag."
Ratchet grumbles to himself as he continues to examine on Mark, his optics darting between the makeshift medical bay and one of his many screens, expecting trouble at any moment. Mark can't blame him; the situation is dire. And with the sudden loss of Cliffjumper, anything could happen.
"I-It hurts, but I think I can mana—" He's cut off by Ratchet receiving a comm from Arcee to open the ground bridge. Again? How many times is he going to be rudely interrupted?
When he does, Ratchet swears he's about to blow a fuse.
"W-What in the Allspark? Why have you two brought even more humans here?! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?" His optics widen, and at the same time he's pissed, and tired, and even more pissed. Agent Fowler was enough to deal with already, he didn't need more on his plate.
"Oh, forget it!" Ratchet sighs in annoyance, turning his attention back to Mark, who is now attempting to climb onto one of the medic's tools. Maybe the energon had fucked with his brain chemistry somehow.
Unfortunately for him, Mark loses his balance and the tool clatters to the ground, the sound echoing throughout the base as the humans stand there, watching awkwardly.
"I needed that!"
Notes:
so what do we think of dick sucker
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