Chapter Text
Cybertron—1 Stellar cycle D.W.
Elita scowled at the ground. There had been acts of uprising for about a stellar cycle now by reasonably angry bots. She sympathized with their plight and tried to get them fair trials at the least, if not full on freedom. Now, here she was, fired and missing being responsible for something so much that she had actually applied to be a mentor. Not only applied, but she guessed she now was a mentor since she had sent her CNA in for Vector Sigma to make a spark. The act had surprised even herself, but how different could training a sparkling be to training an army?
She distinctly remembered every detail of the day she had been ‘let go’. Darkwing had called her into his office, his stupid medals and trophies displayed on every surface. She had always known he didn’t like her. Darkwing was loyal to Sentinel and the caste system that accompanied it, despite him being a slave to it as well. She was informed that due to her ‘fraternization’ with Orion Pax, who was a colleague of the rebellion’s leader, she would be stripped of her title and position. To make sure her complaints weren’t taken seriously by the general public, she would be branded a traitor and forbidden from any military jobs.
Eita stood up as a white and orange bot approached her. “Elita One,” she greeted, bowing her head. “We apologize for the wait, but there was a problem in the transfer process. The spark had finished forming, like we told you, but before we could transfer it the body broke, meaning we had to put it into the nearest available frame.”
She frowned. “Is it alright?”
The bot paused, nervously wringing her hands. “The nearest frame was a flight frame. Small, no outliers, and built for speed and covert operations instead of direct combat. We can make you another spark, but we’ll need more CNA. We promise to compensate you for the prolonged wait.”
Elita ground her denta together. “And what if I want them?”
The bot’s optics widened. “I– do you?”
“Of course! They’re mine, aren’t they?”
“But– yes. It is,” the bot said, stumbling over her words. “Would you like me to get it for you?”
The car gave a harsh nod in response and the orange and white bot ran off to fetch the sparkling.
Elita released an exacerbated sigh as she sat back down. The blatant functionism of some mechs. She herself could not remember her mentor. She knew she had one, but as far as she was aware, he had died when she was still very young, leaving her to be a ward of the primacy and trained for military action as soon as she could walk. The only thing she knew was that Sentinel Prime hadn’t been fond of him based on a few comments from Darkwing. While the implied animosity between them wasn’t ideal, it did betray the fact that her mentor had been important enough to know the Prime personally.
It wasn’t long before her sparkling was brought before her. He was exactly as the bot from before had described. Small, and while he had not grown into his frame, as aerodynamic as a chubby newspark could be. Orange optics looked up at her with the feeling of curiosity, but no actual thoughts circling in his processor.
Elita smiled. “Hello, Ulchtar. Are you excited to learn?”
Earth—6000 years D. W.
Starscream watched from the shadowy corner he had tucked himself away in. He had searched the throne room for blind spots on one of the many instances where he couldn’t get himself to recharge. The jet observed in silence as his master was brought a cube of fine energon on a silver platter.
Megatron raised his morning energon to his lipplates, but paused, narrowing his optics. He held the cube away from himself and towards where Soundwave stood diligently off to the side. The cassette player scanned it and his visor flashed a bright red. Megatron brought the energon back up to his faceplate momentarily, as if to drink it, but instead he violently threw it at the Seeker’s pedes, causing it to shatter into a flurry of shards of wasted fuel.
“Poison,” he said, smiling. “You’re getting creative.”
Starscream eased himself out of the shadows, a sly smirk quickly covering his disappointed expression. “Would you expect anything less of me?”
The mad tyrant gestured for the Seeker to come closer, and he obeyed, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne. Frustration burned in his spark as he was forced to kneel.
“You’re finally in the position you oh so coveted, second only to myself, and this is how you choose to spend your time?”
Starscream curled his talons into fists. “You don’t respect me.”
“Oh?” Megatron asked, the amusement in his voice obvious. “You are my second, the youngest in our ranks. I still remember the time you were a little sparkling who couldn’t feed himself. Yet, here you are. And you think I don’t respect you?”
“But you don’t let me do anything!” he exclaimed. “All my ideas get shot down, you never let me lead my own missions, and whenever we’re in battle with the Autobot high command you don’t even let me kill my own way! A quick shot to the spark would be efficient, but you always order me to rip the mech’s helm off with my teeth like some kind of wild animal!”
Megatron frowned and shot a look in Soundwave’s direction. The blue bot nodded in confirmation. The warlord stood up from his throne and began his walk down the stairs. Starscream fell onto his back in his hurried effort to get away. He managed to push himself back to his pedes, but some of his paint was scratched off in the process. Megatron scowled at the bright color. “Pathetic.”
Starscream opened his mouth to retort, but was stopped by a purple servo covering his intake.
Megatron’s scowl turned into a smile. “Ah, Shockwave. Just in time. He’s asking questions again.”
Starscream frowned beneath the scientist’s hand. Again? It was at that moment that the jet realized that he hadn’t even thought about attempting to struggle. Why would you? An oily voice asked.
“Of course, my lord. Are there any additional alterations you want me to make while he’s under?”
Megatron tilted his head, contemplating. “Make him enjoy the more unorthodox killing methods. He was complaining about them.”
Shockwave bowed his helm. “I swear it shall be done, my liege.”