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silkling · 2 years

Note

Kinda weird idea based off of yes-i-write-fanfiction Feral Baby Soundwave Au. I just to see how you would write it

To the anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took so long to get around to it. I had a lot of trouble figuring out which continuity I wanted to write for. yes-i-write-fanfiction wrote a lot for G1, so I didn’t want to do that, but I couldn’t think of a good way to write feral Sparkling Soundwave for any other continuity. Then I finished watching Cyberverse, after I’d taken a break when Cheetor died because I needed the time to process that. So after I finished CV, I realized this prompt could fit.

So, in honor of Cyberverse ending, I’m setting this in that. This is during the time they’re still on Earth, when the humans have discovered the, but before Starscream was killed. Now, on with the show!

———————————————————————————————————

The battle was, as most battles on Earth were, rather anticlimactic when all was said and done. Ever since Bee had found the Ark and woken them from stasis, they’d been getting into scuffles with the Decepticons that almost never amounted to much. They were at a stalemate until they could leave the planet for Cybertron, and everyone knew it. At this point, the fighting was really just to for the sake of appearances.

And Hot Rod was quite sick of it. The humans knew about them and stayed firmly away from both the Nemesis and the Ark, so any amusement to be had from the locals was null and void. Unfortunately. And with Optimus getting increasingly ansty to return to Cybertron, most bots were focusing on repairing the Ark so they could leave.

But he was digressing. They’d been fighting the Cons, like they did every Earth week. The battle had ended with a bang, at least. Courtesy of Wheeljack, of course. One of his new inventions has blown up. Again. No one was supposed, really. But hey, it’d scared the Cons into retreating so Hot Rod wasn’t complaining.

But now he, and all the others left behind on the battlefield, were stuck with clean up duty. Which basically meant they had to go over the area and make sure nothing Cybertronian was left behind when they returned to the Ark.

The speedster looked around, spotting Optimus by a pile of rubble. He trotted over, helm tilted. “Hey, Optimus!” He greeted cheerily. “You find anything?”

Before his leader could answer, there was a beep from under the rubble.

The two bots looked to each other, then without a word bent and got to work shifting the rocks away to unearth whatever was hidden beneath them.

Which turned out to be…Soundwave?

Yeah, that was definitely Soundwave. But…smaller. And weirdly proportioned. His limbs looked almost stubbier. Honestly, if Hot Rod didn’t know any better, he’d say that Soundwave looked like a Sparkling. Which was ridiculous. Of course he knew better.

Soundwave beeped again, startling the two stunned Autobots from their staring.

“A Sparkling.” Optimus said, optics wide.

See? He knew it wasn’t a Spark-

The frag did Optimus just say?

“Come again, boss bot? Cause I think I just heard you say that the mini Soundwave is a sparkling and not, you know, mini-fied.”

The Prime shot him a bemused look. “Mini-fied?”

“Yeah, you know. Made mini. Probably Wheeljack’s fault. Soundwave was close to the epicenter of the explosion when his new invention blew. I figure it went wrong and made Sounders small.”

“No, Hot Rod.” Optimus chuckled, mask sliding away to shoot his soldier an amused look. “I suspect your theory on Wheeljack’s machine is correct, but he is most definitely a Sparkling, not just mini.”

“Seriously? How do you know?” he squinted. “Is it a Matrix thing?”

“I have seen Sparklings before, Hot Rod.” Primus informed him dryly, still clearly amused.

Before he could question that further, another beep from the blue Sparkling interrupted them. This one sounded distinctly displeased.

Optimus snapped his attention down, and Hot Rod watched as he bent and reached out for the tiny form. “Hush now, little one.” he crooned. “I apologize. I did not mean to ignore you. Come, let’s get you to Ratchet.”

Hot Rod didn’t get why Optimus was acting like that. This was still Soundwave, wasn’t it? Unless…unless he didn’t remember? It would make sense, if he’d been reverted to his sparkling frame. Plus, if he remembered, or at least remembered clearly, he’d definitely have tried to attack them. So the little guy probably didn’t remember much, if he remembered anything at all.

He was torn from his musings by a startled yell from Optimus, and looked over quickly to see the Prime holding the Sparkling in one arm, while the other was held very tightly in the tiny Soundwave’s denta. The little bot was making an adorable snarling sound, tiny digits unsheathed to claws and digging into Optimus’s armor seams while his equally tiny fangs dug deep into his servo.

Oh, wait. That was energon. Optimus was bleeding. He yelped, leaping to action at the same time as several others who has slunk closer while he and Optimus had been talking. Bumblebee reached them first, but as soon as his servos made contact with the infant a single servo freed itself to swipe at the scout’s held out palms. Bumblebee retreated with a squawk, and Windblade surged in, her optics narrowed as she grabbed the Sparkling before he could claw her and tried to pry Soundwave off Optimus. He dug his tiny claw back into the Prime’s arms, but released his denta from his servo to shriek in protest in tandem from his squealing, snarling engine.

“Windblade, stop! You’re scaring him!” Optimus said sharply.

Windblade obeyed, but was clearly unhappy about it. “I’m scaring him? He’s a Con! Pit, he’s Soundwave! And he’s attacking you!”

“He is a Sparkling! I do not believe he has his adult memories. We are unfamiliar and frightening and he is scared.” Optimus rebutted firmly, voice raised over Soundwave’s wailing.

Hot Rod shook himself from where he’d stopped when Soundwave attacked Bumblebee. He stepped close enough to try and help, reaching out to touch the tiny Sparkling. “But can’t we get him to let you go?” he asked his Prime.

Except…at the sound of his voice, the Sparkling went quiet, and at the first touch of his digits Soundwave loosened his grip on the Autobot leader. Hot Rod continued with his original goal, and was very surprised that he was able to pull Soundwave away from Optimus without issue. He half-expected the Sparkling to go feral again as soon as he did and attack him instead, but all he did was stare at the racer past the little red visor while Optimus’s energon stained his unmasked mouth. Hot Rod held him under his arms, his pedes dangling as he stared at the tiny, now silent Sparkling.

“Uhhh, Optimus?” he said, confused.

The Prime was silent, and then he tilted his helm, holding his injured servo in his uninjured one. “Hold him securely, Hot Rod. Against your chest, one arm underneath him to support him and one around him to keep him to falling from your hold.” he instructed.

Hot Rod blinked, but obeyed easily enough, and when he did Soundwave curled up against his chestplate and his visor went dim as he offlined his optics. He stared down at the Sparkling, then looked up to Optimus.

“Uh…what now?”

“Now?” Optimus said, his voice serene. Hot Rod didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the look in his leader’s optics. It was too blank. Too peaceful. “Now, you take care of him. I’m putting Soundwave under your care until we can figure out what to do. I am going to take the others and return to the Ark. I suggest you take a longer route back, perhaps he will fall into recharge. When you return, take him to Ratchet. He’ll need to be looked over.” Then, that said, the Prime folded down to alt-mode and drove away.

Windblade followed suit, and the others around the battlefield did as well. Bumblee, the filthy traitor, just shot him an amused grin and then he too was transforming and driving away.

Hot Rod was left alone with the Decepticon-Spymaster-turned-Sparkling on the empty battlefield. “I was right.” He said to no one in particular. “I didn’t like what he said.”

He turned to the Ark, helm tilted. Then he looked down at Soundwave. He was curled up, frame relaxed and expression peaceful. He looked kinda cute, actually. Hot Rod felt his spark soften a little. Then Soundwave snuffed and pressed his face to his chestplates, and his spark softened completely.

He sighed, shaking his helm. Okay, he couldn’t be too mad. He’d had plans today, but he’d figure things out. He looked back up towards the Ark, and a distant mountain caught his attention.

An idea came to him, and he perked up.

Sure, he had to care care of Soundwave, but no one had said he couldn’t have fun while he did it. As long as it was safe, of course. And who knew, it might even wear the bitlet out and get him to recharge better.

“So,” Hot Rod said, grinning and looking down. As if sensing he was being talked to, Soundwave looked up, visor brightening. The speedster got the impression he was being focused on intently. “How do you feel about sledding down a mountain?”

———————————————————————————————————

Optimus just gave a feral sparkling to a a reckless dumbass. He’s going to have regrets, once the implications of his actions catch up. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to do anything about it. Soundwave goes feral with everyone who isn’t Hot Rod.

Anyway, hope y’all liked that! I had fun writing it, once I finally figured out what the hell I actually wanted to do with this prompt. Now to move on to the next one.

Until next time, folks!

#silkling request fics #feral baby soundwave au #transformers cyberverse #optimus prime #hot rod #soundwave #fic of a fic #sorta?#based of yes-i-write-fanfiction’s idea #Soundwave is a feral infant and is only calmed by hot rod #no one knows why #Optimus has Regrets #Also this is all Wheeljack’s fault #no one is surprised #Hot Rod has a son now #a son who bites everyone who touches him #Primus save the poor bastards #transformers #maccadam

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silkling · 3 years

Note

Could you please write a crossover of Rescue Bots and TFP? Rather than dying on the Nemesis, a critically injured Dreadwing fleas and crash lands on Griffin Rock. The Rescue Bots find him and nurse him back to health, not realizing he’s a Decepticon because his markings got scratched up in the fight. Dreadwing wakes up while the Rescue Bots are trying to contact Team Prime, but can’t since, unbeknownst to them, they’re all on Cybertron, fighting the Cons for the Omega Keys and Omega Lock.

So, this one turned out to be much, much longer than I thought. So long, in fact, that I had to divide it into three posts. The second post will be linked at the bottom of this one, and the third will be linked at the bottom of the second. Dear god, apparently I had a lot of more thoughts about Rescue Bots than even I was aware of. Oh well. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! (FYI: most prompt fills will not be this long. This one was just so long cause I have many emotions and ideas about this scenario.)

———————————————————————————————————

Dreadwing felt the betrayal of Lord Megatron as surely as if it were just as physical a wound as the hole blown through his chest. He had heard the weapon powering up, and his war-forged battle instincts had had him diving to the side just as the fusion canon had fired. It has still torn though his chest, but rather than destroy his spark chamber the blast had torn a hole straight through the right side of his chest near his shoulder. He lived yet, but if he could not escape the Nemesis that would not be the case for much longer.

He had served Lord Megatron with loyalty and honor for millennia, ever since he and his brother had joined the Decepticons after Vos had fallen. Dreadwing had sold his very spark to the Unmaker to act on the wishes and orders of his leader, and this is what his loyalty had earned him? Megatron attempting to offline him, and protecting the mech who had desecrated his brother? The same mech who had, countless times before, betrayed Megatron himself? Dreadwing could scarcely understand it. Why would Megatron spare Starscream, who had given the warlord no true loyalty, when Dreadwing himself had been nothing but loyal? Is this what his loyalty bought him, among the Decepticons? Dishonorably killed solely for attempting to avenge his brother by killing a traitorous coward?

If so, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He dragged himself down the halls, finally making it to the flight deck, and looked down to see the ship flying above the ocean. Rather than attempt a proper take off, he simply pitched his body forward off the edge and allowed himself to fall. As he neared the water, he forced a transformation, ignoring the agony of the action, and his engine roared to life. Lucid thought slipped away, then, as baser survival coding took over and guided him away from the warship, away from danger, away from what would have been his death.

Only one thing was certain, now.

In attacking Dreadwing to protect Starscream, Megatron had lost the loyalty of his most devoted frontline warrior.

Dreadwing simply refused to follow a mech who would protect the one who desecrated his brother.

And so, survival protocols overriding every other thought or higher system, the large Seeker allowed his higher processor functions to shut off. His mind quieted to blissful silence. Instinct alone drove him forward, flying towards a destination even he did not know. He could only hope it would be somewhere safe.

——————————

Blades didn’t know what he was expecting when he went on a walk along the beach, but it most certainly wasn’t a large Cybertronian lying in in the sand, looking like he’d crashed landed and resting lifeless on patch of sand soaked with energon. Technically, the copter wasn’t even supposed to be out here, as Sigma-17 had to maintain their cover, but everything at the firehouse had just been several kinds of too much that morning, so he had, for once, flown off on his own and landed on a beach he knew no humans ever really came to, intent to just take a walk and clear his head.

Except, upon coming around a bend, he’d found the aforementioned Cybertronian. For a moment, he’d simply frozen, but then the instinct ingrained by his training kicked in and he sprung into action. See, Blades was a trained and licensed triage medic. He couldn’t perform complex surgeries or anything on the level of a proper medic, but in the Rescue Academy on Cybertron he’d taken the courses for field level medical aid so that, if he’d ever run into someone during a rescue who’d been hurt, he could treat them and keep them alive until they could get to a medical facility. The training g had been fun, especially when he’d studied with-

He shook his head roughly before that thought could complete itself. He didn’t want to think about the time….Before. It hurt, remembering what and who he’d lost during his millennia of stasis. Before he could fall back into grief, training snapped back into place and his processor quieted. He knelt next to the fallen Cybertronian, noting that they were a Seeker frame, and carefully turned the bot over. His next thought was an observation that the bot was a mech, and that the energon soaking into the sand under his frame was spilling from a large hole torn straight through his chest. That meant the first thing he needed to do was seal the leaking lines to keep him from losing more energon. After that, he could call Heatwave. He didn’t have the skills to patch this wound up fully. Once he’d made sure this mech wouldn’t die here and now, he would need to get him to proper care. One of the stasis pods would certainly help, though if they wanted the wound healed fully he’d need to be in the pod for a while. The other alternative was contacting Optimus. Blades knew the Prime had a proper medic on his team, which might be the better option.

As his processor raced, trying to think of a plan, his hands worked on autopilot. He slipped the tools he needed from his subspace, cleaning and removing grime where it was needed to prevent infection, removing bits of sand and stone from the wound, and using a small welder to seal off the free-flowing energon lines. He covered loose, sparking wires and circuits, , rerouting a few of them in places where it was needed. Finally, after many long minutes, he finished and sat back on his heels.

It was then the helicopter realized his comm. was pinging with an alert for an incoming message, and had been for quite some time. In fact, it seemed he’d missed several messages. From Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, Dani, the Chief, Cody…Pit, even Graham had sent him a message. Embarrassment and guilt settled heavy in his chest, and he lifted his hand to his audial to accept the current call. As soon as his comm. clicked to life, Dani’s voice was coming through it.

“Blades! Finally! Where are you? We’ve all been worried sick, you know.” his partner scolded. Blades couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips upwards. It was nice knowing she cared. He loved Dani dearly. She was family, after all. “You know you’re not supposed to even be out of the firehouse on your own, you idiot bot!” she continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of worry despite the insult. Blades didn’t take it personally. “What if someone had seen you? You need to-“

And now that was enough. “Dani.” he interrupted her, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m sorry for ignoring you and everyone else, but right now there’s a bigger emergency than me risking our cover. I found an inured bot on that small beach behind the mountain. You know, the one no one likes to go to because the hike is too long? He’s in a really bad way. I have triage training, and I’ve patched him up, but he needs either a stasis pod or a proper medic, as close to immediately as possible.”

There was silence on the other end, before-

“Alright. I’ll tell everyone to come to your location. I’m with Dad and Chase right now. We all split up to look for you, but we’ll meet you there. Don’t move, and keep the bot alive.” Dani instructed. Despite himself, Blades was smiling again. Yes, he really did love Dani. She knew when it was time to get serious. He had a feeling he’d be forgiven for his blunder today, given the circumstances.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Just hang tight, partner. And stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” he chirped, hands still working over the bot to patch up his more minor wounds now that the life-threatening one was dealt with. “And Dani?”

“Yeah, Blades?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then her voice came though, softer and fonder.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Then the comm. line cut off, and Blades was left alone to in the silence. He let his processor drift, kneeling in the energon soaked sand as he worked on saving the life of a bot whose name he didn’t even know.

——————————

Chase was worried. He knew Blades was more capable than the others thought he was, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He hadn’t been surprised when the copter bot had left the firehouse that morning. He’d seen the way he had held his rotors tight to his spinal strut, seen the way he’d fidgeted around the others, seen the way his optics had slipped and gone dull and distant. He knew today was not a good day for Blades, so his disappearance had not been a surprise. He’d been mildly concerned, simply because he did not know if Blades would be able to avoid being seen in his more distracted state, but he hadn’t been too worried. Still, when Heatwave had insisted on going to track down their rogue teammate, he hadn’t protested. He’d even offered to let Dani ride with him and the Chief to make things simpler.

But then Blades had finally picked up Dani’s comm. and that was when he started to worry. A strange bot, found injured on Griffin Rock? It raised many questions. Where had they come from? Who where they? How had they been injured? Chase wasn’t worried that the bot would die. He knew Blades had triage training, so he was confident his teammate would be able to keep his unexpected patient alive. Even so, this new development raised many questions that Chase did not have the answers to, and that was what worried him. There were not many Cybertronians on Earth, he knew. Aside from Sigma-17, there was Team Prime, and….the Decepticons. As far as Chase was aware, and he admittedly did not know as much as he would like, there were no unaligned bots on the planet.

Which meant this newcomer was either one of Prime’s team, a Decepticon, or he had crash landed on the island from space and wasn’t attached to either faction. It would be easy enough to confirm; they simply had to contact Prime and ask if he was missing a teammate, and if not ask if he recognized the bot in question. If this stranger was a neutral party or an Autobot, Chase knew there would be nothing to worry about. But if they were a Decepticon…well, that was the root of the police bot’s concerns. Sigma-17 was a rescue team. They knew rudimentary combat skills, enough to defend themselves or those they were rescuing in an emergency, but they were non-combatants. By the standards of the War, his team would be classified as civilians. If this new Cybertronian was a Decepticon…Chase wasn’t sure they’d be able to protect Griffin Rock, this time. He wasn’t sure they’d even be able to protect themselves.

Before he could slip even further into his own processor, they arrived at the coordinates Blades had sent. His snapped into focus, his doors popping open to allow his passengers out, and then he was transforming and walking over to where he could see Blades. As he approached his friend, he heard Boulder and Heatwave pull up behind him and transform. Blades looked up from his work when his three teammates stopped next to him, and Chase was mildly disconcerted to see the amount of energon soaking the sand and coating the copter’s hands.

“Blades, what happened?” Heatwave demanded, voice rough.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged helplessly. “I came out here for some space and to take a walk, cause I know this beach is practically abandoned, and I just found him like this.”

Indeed, this close, Chase could see that the mystery bot was in fact a mech. That answered one question, but none of the others. How irritating. It was also making him very nervous and queasy to see just how badly injured the very, very large bot was. Boulder too, seemed to feel ill at the sight of such horrible wounds and so much energon. Distantly, Chase noted that the bot might be even bigger than High Tide. He had no idea how they were supposed to get him back to the firehouse.

Heatave made a frustrated noise, clearly displeased with the lack of information though he knew Blades was not to blame. “Well can you tell how he got so injured?”

“A weapon of some sort, though not one I’ve ever seen the damage of before.” Blades said, frowning. His processor was clearly working hard, trying to turn over the facts he knew to figure out the bigger picture. “There’s also signs of older damage. I can’t be 100% sure, but I think this bot is, or maybe was, involved in the War.��

Heatwave paused, seeming more wary with this new information. “…can you tell which side?”

“No. Any faction identifier or badge has been destroyed or scraped off like most of his paint. I can only just figure out what his colors are supposed to be, and even them only barely.”

Chase could tell that Heatwave was annoyed, but the fire truck only grumbled his curses under his breath before sighing. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Blades startled, looking surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course.” Chase cut in before Heatwave could snap something rude and further stress the already clearly frazzled helicopter. “You are the triage medic here. Protocol dictates that, in the absence of a full medic, any medical decisions would fall to the next available medical expert. In this case, that would be you.”

Blades blinked a few times, before shaking himself and sitting up straighter. “Like I said earlier, he needs a stasis pod. Badly. I don’t have the ability to fix him completely, my training only covered keeping patients alive until they could get to someone who could repair them fully. The only one on planet I know who might be able to help is Optimus’s medic. He can also heal completely in one of our stasis pods, but it would take longer than just asking Optimus for help.”

Heatwave grunted. “Got it. He needs a stasis pod now, and a medic later. We can do that.”

That seemed to be enough to startle Boulder into awareness, and the bulldozer jumped before nodding and turning to Heatwave. “Graham and I can figure out a way to transport him safely. Though we’ll need your help, Blades. You have a better understanding of his condition than us.”

The copter nodded, and Chase let that be his que to retreat to back to where the humans were waiting. Apparently, they didn’t want to get too close in case their presence caused an issue with the unknown bot’s care.

“Well?” Chief asked. “How’s our newest guest?

“Unwell.” Chase said succinctly. “He is severely injured and appears to be involved in the War in some fashion, though it is impossible to tell for which side. We are going to transport him to the firehouse in order to put him into a stasis pod so that he may heal. Graham, I believe Boulder requires your assistance in that respect.” he said, directing the last part to the engineer.

Graham nodded, making no protest as he jogged forward towards his partner, Boulder already turning and crouching to begin discussing plans. Dani followed him quickly, though she split from his path to join Blades, clambering up onto his leg and patting his canopy as she shot him a reassuring smile.

It was here that Kade made his own opinion known. “Hey hey hey, let’s slow down!” he protested. “You just said you don’t know what side this guy’s on, and you want to bring him back home? We can’t do that! Why can’t Blades just fix him here and we can send him on his way?”

Chase tilted his head. “Blades is a licensed triage medic. He does not have the training necessary to fully repair him. Besides, even if he did, I do not believe it would be wise to simply ‘send him on his way’, and you said. If he truly is a Decepticon, then doing so would risk leading the entirety of the Decepticon army right here to Griffin Rock.”

Kade froze, seeming suddenly queasy. “Oh.”

Chief sighed. “Fair point, partner. I agree we can’t just leave him or let him die. It wouldn’t be right, even if he isn’t on our side. But for safety’s sake, would it be possible to keep him unconscious until we can confirm his identity with Optimus?”

Chase nodded. “Indeed, Chief. I believe that is the current plan. As soon as he is safely in a stasis pod, we will attempt to contact Optimus. With luck, we can have this matter sorted by the end of today.”

“Good.” Chief smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Agreed.”

Chase returned to his team, Chief and Kade following at his heel, to find they had come up with a plan to transport the unknown Cybertronian. Working together, the rescue team was able to get the large flight-frame settled into a make-shift trailer the engineer duo had thrown together, and after hitching it to Boulder’s vehicle mode the whole group made their way to the firehouse using the tunnels in order to avoid being seen. Barring Blades, of course, who instead flew straight to base with Dani in order to prepare a stasis pod.

By the time Chase and the others arrived, the pod was set up and open to admit the unknown mech. It took all four of Sigma-17 working together to lift him into it, but then the glass door was sliding shut and frost soon hid the bot from view as the stasis function of the pod took affect. Now, all that was left was for Blades to clean himself up, and for Heatwave to contact Optimus about their guest.

Chase just hoped this development didn’t come back to bite them.

——————————

Dreadwing woke to the hiss of an unfamiliar system disengaging and onlined his optics to see icy mist billowing to the floor as a glass door slid up from in front of him. A stasis pod? That was odd. The Nemesis had no stasis pods and he knew the Autobots did not have the means to maintain or build one either. He was also not aware there were any other Cybertronians on the planet. So where was he, and how had he gotten into a stasis pod? The last thing he remembered was fleeing the Nemesis, although….he did have very vague, hazy memories of a crash. Had he been discovered and saved before he could offline? If so, he would have to thank his unexpected savior. Unless, of course, it was an Autobot and he had only been saved so he could be locked away. If that was the case, a bot was going to die here today and it would not be him.

The stasis pod fully disengaged from him, and he was able to step out and onto the floor. He glanced down at himself, humming idly. It seemed that he had been fully repaired either before or while in the pod. That was good for him. He looked around, frowning at his odd surroundings. The location he was in had medical supplies, but was clearly no full medical bay. Perhaps it was only set up for emergencies, then? His wings twitched when he picked up the sound of pede steps beyond the doorway, and his gaze turned towards the sound. After a moment, he realized whoever it was wasn’t coming towards him, but rather they seemed to be…pacing? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Curiosity piqued, Dreadwing strode towards the door, making sure his own steps were quiet so as not to alert the other to his presence. He stepped though, looking around…and his optics blew wide.

It was a youngling. A small, orange and white helicopter bot was pacing back and forth in tight circles in the center of the room. Dreadwing was willing to bet that this little flyer was even younger than the Autobot scout. As the mechling turned to pace in another circle, the Seeker caught sight of the emblem on his chest. At first, he saw only a badge similar to the Autobot brand and his frame began to stiffen. Then the rest of the badge processed in his mind and his vents froze.

The Rescue Bot insignia.

This tiny little flying mechling was a Rescue Bot. But how? Megatron had seen to the destruction of the Rescue Bot headquarters in the early days of the war, and had sent his soldiers to systematically hunt down and offline any who had survived the initial attack or had not been present during it. Dreadwing and his brother had joined the Decepticons after massacre, but it was one the only acts the Decepticons had committed that they had wholly disapproved off. The Rescue Bots had been unaffiliated with any faction. They took an oath of neutrality, a vow to save any and every life they could regardless who who or what that life was. Megatron had wanted them gone because he’d wanted to make a statement, but also because he wanted to deny the Autobots any potential allies or any aid that the Rescue Bots would have given them.

It had been a great loss, and had been one of the reasons Dreadwing had initially wished to avoid choosing one side or the other. The Decepticons, in his mind, took things too far. The Autobots, while more restrained, had initially risen from the regime in which he and his brother had suffered under. But then….Vos had fallen, and word had spread that his city’s destruction had been the doing of the Autobots. He and Skyquake had been forced to pick a side, then. He’d gotten over his hesitance at the Decepticon methods and given Lord Megatron his undying loyalty. And now…he was here, betrayed by the one who he as sworn himself to, watching a youngling Rescue Bot pace in nervous circles. It was something that should have been impossible.

Suddenly, the mechling froze, and wide amber optics turned to him. Idly, Dreadwing realized he must have made some noise, and then the little copter was yelping and scrabbling back. He paused, then hurried forward, his hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. Before the little one got too close, Dreadwing locked his own sharp, red optics onto him, and the bot froze in place with a startled yip.

For a long moment, there was only silent staring.

——————————

Blades was pacing. There wasn’t much else he could do. The day they had brought back the large Seeker, Heatwave had contacted Optimus. Only, the Prime had very quickly shut him down, explaining they were busy with an issue of “upmost importance” and that he would return their contact when he was able to. That had been three weeks ago, and he hadn’t called back. The Seeker was still in stasis, and Heatwave was once against attempting to make contact, for the 15th day in a row. Chase and the Chief were on patrol, and Boulder and the other humans were at Blossom Vale, having a picnic. Blades had opted to remain behind, wanting to keep an eye on the Seeker.

In the time since finding the large mech, Blades had done some research. He’d had to dig around the Sigma’s files, and dig through the files of the computer that connected them to Optimus, as well as dig through the various data-pads that had been left to them by High Tide and Optimus. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he’d been able to piece together information about the War that the Prime hadn’t been telling them. Now, Blades understood why the War had started. The civil unrest had been a thing even before Sigma-17 had been formed, when he was still in the early days of training, it had been mild, then, but it had been there. So he wasn’t surprised that it had grown worse, especially if the root causes of the unrest hadn’t ever been addressed.

He also knew, from the information he’d dug up in his search, that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers had joined the Decepticons. Which meant that his patient was, in all likelihood, a Decepticon himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he hadn’t told the others his suspicions. Mostly because…something about the situation was odd. Optimus didn’t strike him as the type of mech who would inflict or approve of that type of wound being inflicted on a mech. So unless he had someone on his team who was excessively violent and he couldn’t control, Blades didn’t see that wound coming from the Autobots. Which meant it had come from the Decepticons. Of course, that only raised more questions. Namely, why would they do that to one of their own, if the mech really was a ‘Con? He wanted to get answers before he shared his suspicions. He didn’t want to condemn the Seeker to anything bad if he was wrong.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been all he had learned, in the past few weeks. In one of the data pads High Tide had left about the early days of the war, there had been a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force”. It had just been a mention, a reference to an event that was probably detailed in a separate data pad. But he hadn’t ever found that separate data pad. And when he remembered What Optimus had said, when he’d first found them..”

“I was not aware Rescue Teams were…still active.”

He’d said it slowly, haltingly, as if choosing the words carefully. He’d paused before saying the last part too. At the time, Blades hadn’t thought much of it. But with the information about the War Optimus had allowed them to have, and the mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in that one data pad, well…Blades was starting to think that “active” had not been the word that the Prime had actually meant. Something had happened, something he didn’t have enough information to figure out yet, but the faint picture he was starting to get from the pieces of information he did have wasn’t one he liked. It was another reason he was hesitant to share what he suspected about the Seeker. Optimus was keeping vital information from Sigma-17. He didn’t care if the Prime didn’t want them fighting in the War. He agreed that it was a bad idea. But he was withholding information that Blades suspected his team would very much want, and they didn’t even know it.

So here he was, pacing restlessly as his processor turned over the information he got, unsure how or even if he should share it. Would his team even believe him? He doubted they would. He knew they thought he was silly and couldn’t understand complex ideas, but that was far from the truth. After all, of all the Rescue Bots he had the greatest understanding of human nature and culture. His understanding wasn’t always 100% accurate, and just because he understand the what didn’t mean he understand the why, but he still understood more than any of the others. And sure, he applied most of his ability to learn new information to pop culture rather than the things the others might consider more “worthwhile”, but that was only because pop culture was more fun. Plus, pop culture was where humanity really displayed they way they ticked. Did it really make him that much of an idiot if all that was the case?

He was startled from his spiraling thoughts by a sound from the direction of the make-shift medical bay. The copter glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his teammates, only to yelp and leap back upon seeing the Seeker. He’d known the other bot was large, but seeing him awake and up just confirmed how large. The red optics too, made discomfort curl in Blade’s tanks. The data-pads had suggested that red optics were typical of Decepticons, though they shouldn’t be used as an identifier of such. Even so, it was another tick in favor of his theory. Then the scene caught up to him, and medical training overrode his temporary moment of panic.

This bot wasn’t supposed to be up yet. In fact, even if he had been fully healed by the pods it was supposed to keep him under until Optimus could arrive. Except….Blades must have put in the settings wrong. He was so used to setting the stasis pods to release once the healing process was complete that he must have input that setting without realizing it. Which…presented a problem. Is this mech was hostile, he didn’t think his team could handle it. Those thoughts circled in the back of his processor as he directed the bulk of his worry towards making sure his patient was alright. His hands flapped awkwardly as he approached the larger flyer, ready to skim over his frame to check out his condition, when piercing red optics locked onto him. He froze with a high pitched squeak, his own optics blown wide as that gaze pinned him in place.

For a long moment, the two Cybertronians merely stared at each other.

Then Blades, getting increasingly nervous, broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, curling and tucking his hands against his canopy. “The stasis pod should have healed you completely, but you were hurt pretty bad. Even most of your paint was gone, though it looks like your color nanintes were able to fix that while you were healing.”

Indeed, the mech standing in front of him was now in full color, his purple and yellow paint bold and bright on his frame. It did seem, however, that he was still missing a faction brand. If he’d ever had one, of course, though the copter strongly suspected he did.

The Seeker seemed put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know why Blades was worried. “I am well.” he said carefully. “Are you the one who repaired me?”

“Well, sort of?” Blades’s rotors fluttered against his back. “I’m a triage medic, so I couldn’t fix you completely, but I kept you online until my team and I could get you into a pod.”

The Seeker narrowed his eyes. “Team?” he repeated, obviously suspicious.

Blades squeaked again, shoulders hunching. “We’re Rescue Bots.” he gestured at his insignia before his hands tucked back against his canopy. “Team Sigma-17. I’m Blades.”

The Seeker was silent for a long moment. “You may call me Dreadwing.” he said slowly. His gaze was still piercing.

Blades nodded, then took a few steps forward, and when Dreadwing made no move to stop him, he closed the gap between them. “Do you mind if I scan you over one last time? I just want to be sure all your systems are in order.”

The Seeker bowed his helm, and Blades lifted his hands to skim over plating, using his built in scanning systems he’d gotten in his triage training to check his patient over. Everything was coming back fine, but with a wound as serious as his had been Blades away taking no chances.

“You are a Rescue Bot.” Dreadwing spoke. His voice was low, and there was an odd note to it.

“Yep. Me, Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. We crashed here a while ago and Prime stationed us on this island to act as a rescue team for the locals.” he explained distractedly.

Dreadwing made a soft hum. “Prime knows you are here? Are you Autobots, then?”

Blades frowned. “He knows. He visits, sometimes, but not often. We haven’t been able to contact him lately though.” He was too focused on his task to think about whether he should actually,be answering so freely. The second question gave him pause, though. “No? At least, not really? We’re a Rescue Team. Rescue Bots take oaths off non-affiliation. We can’t side with any particular group or individual since our job is to help any bot or being that needs it.” He was reading over the results of his scans, mouth turned down. “We’re more closely tied to the Autobots right now, but that mostly because we don’t know much of what happened with the war. We were in stasis until we crashed.” He let the readings flicker away, and froze when he realized how much he’d shared. “Uhhh….”

Dreadwing only snorted, actually looking fairly amused. “Yes, I think it is quite clear now that you are no warrior, little youngling.” he rumbled. His expression darkened. “I understand why Prime stationed you here, out of sight. Megatron would see you hunted and slaughtered if he knew a Rescue Team still functioned.”

This made Blades freeze, and as he recalled Optimus’s first words to them, and that data pad, dread began to build in his spark. “What?” he asked weakly.

Dreadwing stared. “You were not told?” he sounded…angry. “That is foolish. It is not a pleasant tale, but you should have been told if only to ensure you understand the importance of your existence remaining secret.”

Blades swallowed. “Optimus doesn’t really tell us much of anything about the War, and the data pads he leaves only really cover the basic and important bits, not the details.” he whispered. “Does…does Megatron wanting my team offlined have anything to do with the “end of the Rescue Force”? I read about it in one of the data pads, but it was just a mention. I couldn’t find any details other than that one phrase.”

Dreadwing’s gaze was solemn as the little bot lifted his optics to meet it. “Yes.” he said bluntly. “In the early days of the War, Megatron grew angry that the Rescue Bots aligned with no faction, and he wanted to deprive the Autobots of any who might aid or help them. He ordered the destruction of the Rescue Force. The Headquarters was destroyed, and all Rescue Bots present were massacred. Any who survived, and any who had not been present in the initial attack, were systematically hunted and slain.”

Blades’s knees felt weak. He pressed his hands to Dreadwing’s chest to steady himself, grateful that the larger flyer didn’t protest it. His rotors rattled madly against his back with his distress, and his optics were blown wide.

“But that would mean…”

“You and your team are the last Rescue Bots in existence. All the others are offline and have been for many, many millennia.”

The copter’s knees gave out, and Dreadwing was quick to grasp his frame to keep him from hitting the ground. A sharp keen left Blades’s vocalizer, and the Seeker blessedly said nothing and made no moves to push as the youngling processed the new information.

It was, of course, that moment that the others chose to return.

——————————

Part 2

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silkling · 2 years

Note

Hi, it's me again! I wanted to know if you could do a part two of the high tide fic you wrote where M.E.C.H finds him again but this time with blurr and salvage like he mentioned?

This one here is a sequel to THIS fic. (Also, to the requester who wanted this, I am so sorry this took so long to get to. This prompt fought me for a good, long while before I figured out where I wanted to go with it)

To everyone else, please be aware I’m putting in a TW for graphic violence here. A lot of unnamed human characters die, and it will be described as being rather bloody. If that’s something you can’t handle, both sections of violence begin and end with a bold double asterisk (**), and I’ll be putting a summary of the events without the violence in a note at the end. Please take care of yourselves, everyone.

———————————————————————————————————

He should have known those insects would come back. He really, really should have. Prime had even told him that his team hadn’t been left alone by the pests, but he’d stupidly thought that meant he and his dumb little wards wouldn’t be bothered by them. He’d been wrong, and High Tide wished he hadn’t had so little foresight.

It had started out a simple lesson. He’d brought his ship to shore, then taken Blurr and Salvage into the nearby forest for a lesson on tracking down someone who might need rescue. He’d chosen this forest specifically because it was far from human settlements and very few humans ventured this deep into it. It had been going well, at first. Sure, Salvage, the idiot little kleptomaniac he was, had been snatching up items he thought might be useful in future endeavors, but that was par for the course with that youngling. Blurr had actually been well behaved. This seemed to be one of the few lessons that was able to keep the glitched hyperactive brat focused.

And if the lesson also served the dual purpose of teaching the younglings how to find their way to friendly territory in the event the they ever got lost, well, who could really blame him?

He spent all morning teaching the brats the basics, and then it had been time for them to put what they’d learned into practice. “I’ve hidden a drone in the forest. Yer job is to find it. I’ll be watchin’ from afar.” He’d said. “I’m goin’ to the ship to grab some more equipment.” They might need it. “You two can start when I get back.”

Then he’d gone. High Tide didn’t know how the humans had lured the boys way from the clearing he’d left them in, but he’d been on the way back to them when he’d heard the scream. Instinct had him freezing, and it took him a moment to place the voice.

Salvage.

He dropped the ropes and tools he’d been carrying, racing ahead, past the clearing he’d last seen them in and then he saw them through the trees. Salvage was on the ground, heavy steel cables wrapped around him limbs and staked into the ground to keep him still. Humans were swarming his frame, and the soldier recognized the uniforms they were from the same pests who’d chased Optimus to his ship. MECH, the Prime had called them.

The humans were clambering over the bulky youngling, and as High Tide watched, hidden in the tree-line, one of them jabbed him with something that crackled and sparked. An electric prod. Salvage screamed, and the human kept up the contact as the mechling writhed as much as he could. Salvage screamed and screamed, and then his vocalizer cut with a harsh grating sound and a screeching burst of static.

The human drew back the prod, then poked the youngling again. Once more, Salvage screamed, but his time the only sound that escaped him was the sound of halting, spitting static. High Tide was unfrozen from his shocked rage then, and was about to step in when another sound made him still and drew his gaze to where the smaller of his two charges was lying.

Blurr was keening. Thin, strong wires were wrapped around the whole of his frame. It was almost like the humans had made a web and he’d run right into it. Even from here, High Tide could see how the youngling’s struggles had made the wires dig into his armor, slipping into the seams of his plating and the joints of his limbs and biting deep. His legs were especially bad, crisscrossed with so many of the thin wires that High Tide knew he’d need help to cut him out.

The youngling was twitching, trying to squirm himself free while humans dragged him into a Cybertronian sized Stokes basket, which was connected to several large helicopters overhead. As High Tide watched another basket was lowered, no doubt for Salvage.

A second sharp, distressed keen jerked his attention back to Blurr. Another human jabbed the speedster with a prod for a brief moment, making him arch and shriek in protest., but the halt to his struggles gave the humans a chance to finish dragging him into the basket.

And that was when High Tide knew he needed to move.

He lunged from the cover of the trees, not noticing or caring when one of his pedes crushed a particularly unlucky human with a sickening squelch. He swiped his servo at the ones crawling over Salvage, tossing them from the youngling’s frame. Most of the humans fell to the ground with broken or fractured limbs, but the one who’d tortured the youngling he lifted and threw hard at a nearby boulder. Their body hit it with a crunching noise, and they dropped to the forest floor. They didn’t get back up.

High Tide activated his weapons, servos transforming to blasters, and he shot the pathetic insects trying to flee from his charge’s heaving body. It didn’t take him long to kill them, leaving bloody and scorched corpses to litter the ground.

And then he heard helicopter blades screaming, and spun to see the aircrafts lifting with his second charge firmly strapped in the basket. High Tide roared, lunging and leaping up to grab the basket and drag it back down, but his digits just missed and his pedes hit the ground heavily enough to make it shudder under his weight. He looked up, faceplates twisted into a snarl, and saw the smirking face of the silver haired bastard who led MECH. Silas, the Prime had said he was called.

Then the helicopters – and Blurr – disappeared into the clouds, and they were gone.

Oh, how he wanted to give chase. He wanted so desperately to run after the fools who’d taken his charge and squash them underfoot like the worthless bugs they were. But then a choked, staticky whimper from behind him stole his attention, and he knew he couldn’t. High Tide spun, hurrying to Salvage’s side and ripping the stakes from the ground that kept the cables pinning him down secure. Before the youngling could even move, he was falling to his knees and reaching out with gentle servos to help Salvage sit up.

The youngling was shaking, his servos gripping tight to High Tide’s own where they were braced on his frame. He opened his mouth, but his vocalizer only produced a biting, buzzing hiss before cutting out. He winced, ducking his helm.

“Easy, kid.” High Tide grunted. “Don’t strain yerself. Do yer comms work?” Unless the humans had fried those, too.

/Yes?/ Salvage’s voice came over his comm line, questioning at first. /Yes./ he confirmed. /They work./

“Good.” High Tide grunted, shifting one servo, gently prying it from the younglings grip and moving it to rub his back. “Let’s get you back to the base. You need rest and medical attention.”

/But Blurr-/ Salvage protested.

High Tide cut him off. “We don’t know where they took ‘im. I can track down his signal from the ship. As soon as get you to the medbay, I’ll go find him.”

Salvage paused, then nodded. /Okay./ He agreed, sounding subdued.

“Good mech.” High Tide shifted, ready to stand and help him up. “Come on. Up you get.” He said, holding him firmly and carefully helping the youngling tp his pedes.

As they stood, Salvage winced and High Tide followed his gaze to the human who he’d killed by throwing them against the rock. There was no blood around the body, but High Tide wouldn't be surprised if the impact had broken most of the bones in the bastard’s body.

“Kid?” He said carefully. Salvage and Blurr were civilians. They’d been in stasis for much of the War. Neither of them were used to violence or death like this.

/High Tide…/ Salvage trailed off, then started again. /Is it bad that I’m not upset they’re dead?/

The soldier relaxed. “Nah, kid.” He grunted. “They hurt ya. Yer allowed to feel however you want ‘bout them bein’ dead.”

The youngling shifted on his pedes, then looked up to High Tide. /And if I am glad they’re dead?/

“Yer allowed to feel that way, too. You don’t gotta regret them dying when they hurt you like they did, young’n.”

Salvage relaxed, nodding and heaving a great sigh from his vents. /Then I’m glad./ he said, voice sparkbreakingly soft and vulnerable.

“And that’s okay.” High Tide said firmly. “Let’s get, kid. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can find Blurr.”

Salvage nodded, but then his gaze was apparently dawn to the bloodier corpses. His tanks made an odd noise, and a choked sound escaped him.

“Kid?”

/I think I’m gonna purge./

“Scrap.” High Tide hissed. He carefully helped the youngling back to his knees, and none too soon because as soon as he was stable Salvage was purging, the contents of his tanks forcing their way back up and leaving a sickly puddle on the forest floor.

When his frame stopped heaving and his trembling abated marginally, High Tide made the decision to carry him back. He swept Salvage into his arms, ignoring the weight and casting him a concerned look.

“You okay, kid?”

Salvage hadn’t seemed bothered by the first body, but maybe seeing the rest changed his mind. Frag, but High Tide hoped the kid wasn’t disgusted by it, by him. Though, he couldn’t say why the idea of Salvage being disgusted by him was so distressing.

/It’s just…it’s a lot of blood./ Salvage said, seeming to not have the will to protest being carried. /I’ve never really seen much blood. Apparently it’s more than my systems can handle./

Ah. So that was it. Salvage’s tanks just couldn’t quite tolerate the level of gore. Which, he supposed, was rather fair. High Tide had spent enough time in the War that he was used to excessive brutality, even if he didn’t see it very often and inflicted it even more rarely. Salvage, however, as both a youngling, and a civilian who’d never seen a day of the War in his life, would not be used to that sort of violence.

High Tide hurried away, taking long, smooth strides away from the carnage. “Alright. You rest, kid. I’ll get you back.” He assured.

/Yessir./ Salvage said, tone quiet and tired and shaking just enough to make High Tide’s spark ache for reasons he didn’t know.

The rest of the walk back to the ship was silent. High Tide stepped onto the deck, then went down to the lower decks. Just as his ship could transform to a bot mode, it also had a flight mode that he used for space travel. It was how he’d gotten to this planet. It was a ship capable of holding a crew of five. There were five berthrooms, a small medbay, a storage closet, and a washracks. Three of the rooms were in use now, and of the other two one was empty and one he used for extra storage.

High Tide carried Salvage to the medbay, and when he arrived he was grateful to be able to put the youngling on the mediberth. He was strong, but Salvage was not a small mech even with his young age. Add to that the fact he was a load bearer, with his frame and armor denser in order to bear great deals of weight, and it all meant that the brat was very, very heavy. High Tide would bet good money that the kid was even heavier than Optimus.

“Stay still.” He said when Salvage started to shift.

He stilled, and the soldier went to get the medial scanner and what he called the “stasis box” from the nearest shelf. A sweep with the scanner told him that Salvage was mostly undamaged. There was minor damage to his internal systems from the prod, and his vocalizer was shot. The system damage was minor enough that self-repair could handle it, though a medic would fix it quicker. It was the vocalizer that had him concerned. It'd need the attention of a proper medic to be fixed. Still, he knew now that Salvage would’t offline with his injuries.

He returned to the shelf, then came back with a pain chip. It was a small data-chip that could be inserted into a mech’s ports and would deaden pain. Salvage didn't protest as he held it up, instead just popping open the small panel that covered his medical ports. High Tide slipped it in, and after a moment the youngling relaxed with a heavy sigh.

Then he lifted the “stasis box”. It was a small dive that he could plug into a mech to send them into a timed medical stasis. Medics could do it without the device but he was not a medic, unfortunately.

“I’m goin' to put you into stasis, kid. Yer systems are a bit shot, and I think they’ll have an easier time if you’re usin' less energy. You’ll wake up in a few hours. I promise.” He said gently. He knew how to handle mechs coming out of a recent trauma.

Salvage hesitated, then nodded. /Please./ he said.

High Tide plugged in, set the timer, and then sent the signal. It only took a moment for Salvage’s optics to dark and slip shut and his frame to go limp. High Tide set he box aside, and then, with one last glance at the unconscious youngling, he went up to the bridge. He needed to find Blurr.

——————————

A few hours later, High Tide had tracked down Blurr’s signal. Like the Decepticons and the Autobots, the Rescue Bots put out a unique faction identifier. Optimus had modified the Rescue Badges so that only consoles that were registered to a Rescue Bot could pick up the signals. It meant that The Autobots and Decepticons wouldn’t pick up the younglings’ signals, but High Tide could find Blurr’s and use it to track him down.

High Tide guided the ship to a stop out of sight of the shore, then activated the defense system. If anyone who wasn’t a registered presence stepped on board, they’d be killed. That done, he let the lift carry him down and into the open water, then transformed and headed for shore. He wasn’t in a very populated area, thankfully. It seemed wherever this was, it was a massive complex of warehouses. No humans lived here, which meant he had no need for sneaking around.

Once he arrived to the docks that led into the complex, he transformed and pulled himself up not land. He didn’t bother with secrecy, striding through the buildings until he arrived at the one that his HUD told him contained Blurr’s signal. He saw no humans stationed outside, and knew it was because MECH was operating illegally under human laws. He slammed a fist through the door of the warehouse, and as soon as he stepped through felt shots ping off his armor. He paid the humans no mind, simply turning to the two who were guardian the door he’d just broken down and stepping on them. They didn’t even have time to call in his presence.

He ignored the blood and organic material clinging to his pede, striding to the massive trapdoor in the middle of the floor and tearing it open. Then he went down, down, down, until his audials picked up the sound of screaming.

Blurr.

He threw away any remaining pretense of subtlety, lunging towards the sound and breaking through one more door. The humans inside whirled to face him, but he had eyes only for the youngling strapped down to the metal slab in the middle of the room.

Blurr’s whole left leg was missing, and his right was bleeding badly from the knee joint. His whole frame was a mess of gashes and energon, the armor plating from his left arm entirely gone and leaving the bare protoform underneath exposed. The plating from his right hip had also been removed, and High Tide could see how the humans had cut away a piece of his protoform itself, leaving poorly capped lines and parking wires, his internals just peaking through the mess. His throat was cut open to bare his vocalizer and intake, and a human was on his collar with their filthy hands on the youngling’s voice box, obviously in the process of either disconnecting it or removing it entirely.

But, most concerning of all, was where Blurr’s chest plates had been forcefully cut and pried open, even the metal of his spark chamber sliced through and ripped apart to bare the frantically pulsing light of his spark.

There was silence as the human stared, not expecting High Tide’s arrival, and in the silence Blurr’s keened a high, terrified note of pain.

High Tide roared, his armor flaring and rattling, his engine snarling, and his optics briefly flashing red.

He would give no mercy.

He lunged, paying no mind to the unlucky humans who couldn’t get out of the way and were crushed under his pedes. His servo closed around the human who had been about to silence Blurr, lifting them and crushing them before they could even scream. Blood spurted everywhere and he dropped the fleshy remains of the human, and that was when the others finally reacted. They started shooting, but it was already too late.

Long unused weapons systems onlined, and a canon unfold over his shoulder from where it had been transformed away under the armor of his back. His servos transformed to blasters, and then he was shooting. The humans that didn’t die to his canon died to his blasters, and his rage started to cool only when the sounds of screaming and death stopped.

He turned to Blurr, intent on getting the youngling out, but Silas stood there.

“You killed my men.” The human snarled accusingly.

“And you kidnapped and tortured my younglin'.” High Tide spat.

Silas scoffed but arched a brow. “Youngling?” He sneered.

“Ay.” High Tide bared his denta, stepping forward. “Younglin'. As in not yet adult. Kid. Brat. Whatever fragging term you pathetic fleshbags use.”

“You’re robots. You don’t have young.” Silas sneered, lifting a gun that High Tide quickly realized didn’t shoot the same projectiles as the others. He lashed out, two digits grabbing and twisting. The bones in the human’s arm broke, and the harsh move was enough to send him falling back on his rear with a bitten off shout.

“I assure you, we certainly do.” High Tide said coldly. His canon powered up with a high whine, pointed at Silas. Before the human could get up, he stepped forward and crushed one of his legs under his pede. The human screamed, and a part of High Tide relished in the sound of agony. Silas glared at him, but High Tide snarled back. “And I’m goin' to make you pay for hurtin' him. For hurtin' them.” He spat.

Then Blurr keened again, and High Tide came back to himself. He looked up, canon powering down, then folding away after another moment. He glanced down at the human trapped at his pedes, and felt his resolve shift. Oh, how he wanted to make the vermin suffer. He wanted to make him scream and beg and plead for mercy. But Blurr needed him more than he needed to make Silas hurt. He stepped back, the human’s leg crushed to a bloody, gory mess, and lifted his lips in a cruel smirk.

“Consider yourself lucky. You get to live this time, but if I ever see you again I’m goin' to make you beg for death.” He hissed, then put the human out of his mind. He didn’t even hear his response, if Silas even gave one.

Instead, he tore the restraints off his charge and lifted him carefully, then strode from the bloody, death-filled warehouse.

He didn’t have the means to treat Blurr on the ship, nor the experience. The youngling’s wounds were far beyond the scope of his abilities to fix. He wouldn’t even be able to get Blurr to the ship as he was.

He needed Ratchet.

He needed to go to Team Prime.

——————————

Optimus couldn’t help the feeling of dread that came from High Tide’s comm.

“Prime, I need you to bridge me to your base. Immedietely. Blurr’s hurt. I don't have the means o treat him on my ship. He needs Ratchet.”

He'd been about to activate the ground bridge when his old friend sent a second message.

“And…make sure the younglings and the human kids aren’t here. It ain’t a pretty sight.”

Thankfully, Jack was at work, and Bumblebee and Smokescreen were out on patrol, so all he’d had to do was tell Arcee and Bulkhead to take the other two children to one of the rooms on the other side of the base. There’d been questions, but he’d easily redirected they attention elsewhere. Now it was just him and Ratchet in the main hub, and his oldest friend was activating the ground bridge to the coordinates High Tide had sent.

Then old sea captain stepped trough the glowing portal, and Optimus was suddenly grateful he’d sent the others away.

High Tide was covered in blood. Human blood. It stood stark against his blue armor, but the horror at the realization that his old friend had killed humans was quickly overpowered by the sight of the youngling he was carrying. Blurr looked close to dead. His armor had gone grey at his extremities, and his spark, where it was visible with his chest cut open, was pulsing weakly, its light dim and sickly.

At his side, Ratchet made a strangled noise, and was moving immedielty even as the ground bridge spiraled shut. As he did, Optimus sent a private comm order for Arcee and Bulkhead to take the children home. No one should see this. Especially since the Rescue Bots, even the ones in training like Blurr and Salvage, needed to stay hidden.

“This way!” Ratchet snapped out, then spun to lead the way to the medbay.

High Tide followed without a word, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. As they disappeared, the Prime shook himself out of his stunned, horrified stupor. He would need to clean the mess while Ratchet worked on Blurr. He went to get the necessary supplies, and as he reentered the main hub he saw High Tide had returned from the back and was heading for the ground bridge control console.

“High Tide?” Optimus didn’t want to push so soon, but he had to know what had happened.

The old sea captain glanced over then grunted. “Later, Prime. Salvage is still back at the ship. He should be comin' out of his medical stasis soon and I need to be there when he does.”

Primus, Salvage had been harmed too? “Will he need Ratchet?”

“No. Not urgently, at any rate. His injuries can wait until Ratchet’s done.”

“Good.” That was a relief, at the very least.

High Tide nodded stiffly, then without another word he activated the ground bridge and stepped through. As it closed, the Prime was left alone in the empty hub, a trail of bloody prints the only evidence left of the unknown horror that had occurred.

——————————

When the comm. request came through an hour later, Optimus was all too happy to reactivate the ground bridge. The base had been cleaned now, though Ratchet was still working on repairing Blurr. The glowing portal powered on, and High Tide stepped through. As it shut off behind him, Optimus could see Salvage’s bulky frame hunched at the older mech’s back. Optimus was grateful to see he’d used his ship’s washracks while he’d been gone. His armor was free of the red lifeblood that had previously stained it.

In his arms, High Tide held a large metal box, though the Prime didn’t know what was in it. He seemed to notice his commander’s gaze on it, because High Tide’s voice came over his comm line a moment later.

/Blurr’s leg. The humans who got him picked it apart, but hopefully Ratchet will be able to fix it./

Primus have mercy. So it had been humans. And Optimus knew why it was so vital that High Tide had retrieved the speedster’s missing leg. Cybertronians were not like organics. Missing limbs were not as severe for them. With the proper resources, a removed limb could be reattached, or if it was destroyed a replacement could be built entirely anew. What made building replacements so complicated, however, was protoform. A mech’s protoform was the closest equivalent their kind had to human flesh. It was not an organic material, but unlike the metals used to build replacement armor it was not a material that could be found or created. To create a replacement limb, it required plentiful resources, the right sort of lab, and an engineer and medic working together to make sure it would integrate fully with the mech it was being built for.

They did not have that on Earth. If Blurr’s leg could not be repaired and reattached, then Ratchet would have to build a fully mechanical prosthetic, but it wouldn't be the same. Without the protoform and proper internal systems, the youngling would be unable to transform with the fake limb.

/I see./ Optimus replied. /Take it to Ratchet, then. There is a room that has been cleared for you next to the medbay. You and Salvage are free to it while you stay here./

High Tide sent a ping of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t respond. He began to lead Salvage down the hall, but Optimus had one more question for him.

/High Tide, I must ask. What happened?/

There was a pause, and when his friend’s voice came over the comm line it was dark and holding barley restrained anger. /I told you, Optimus. I told you that if you let them continue to hunt you without doin' anythin' about it, then someone would suffer at their hands./

Then, without another word, he continued on down the hall. It took the Prime a moment to decipher and understand what he’d said, but when it did, a cold chill gripped his spark.

MECH.

Oh Primus, what had he done?

——————————

High Tide took only a moment to drop the box off in the medbay, careful not to disturb Ratchet. He didn’t look to Blurr, and he made sure Salvage didn’t see his friend’s damage either. He’d been very careful to ensure the large youngling didn’t know what was in the box. Once he’d done that, he carefully guided his charge to the next room over, and once they were both in he locked to door.

Salvage was trembling, his servos clenched and pressed to his chest. His optics were dim and unfocused where they stared at the ground, and he didn’t seem to notice as he was gently herded to the berth by the wall. High Tide guided the youngling down, then sat next to him and frowned.

“You okay, kid?”

/What did they do to him?/

The question surprised High Tide, but Salvage barreled on before he could say anything.

/They hurt me without even taking me to another site. They had Blurr for hours. They had so long to hurt him. Please, High Tide. What did they do to him? It he going to be okay?/

High Tide hesitated, then heaved a sigh. “It’s bad.” He admitted. “Even when Ratchet’s repaired hm, recovery will take a while. You’re right. They did a lot of damage. But he’ll recover, in time.” He glanced down. “The brat’s too stubborn not to.”

Salvage seemed to manage a wavering smile at that. /Yeah./ he agreed, then went quiet again.

“Is that all that’s botherin' you?” High Tide knew it wasn’t, but he wouldn’t force the youngling to tell him. And indeed, it seemed he wouldn’t, because there was nothing for several long minutes. Then Salvage spoke again.

/I just…I don’t understand./ he said helplessly. /I never expected humans to be so cruel, I guess./

High Tide sighed heavily. Times like this, he remembered just how young his wards actually were. “Every species has the capacity for cruelty, younglin'.” He said carefully. “Human, Cybertronians…we ain't that different, in that respect.”

/I know Cybertronians could be cruel./ Salvage said bluntly, gaze falling to his lap. /I was cold constructed as just one of a batch of bots built to be trash collectors and street cleaners./

That news was enough to make High Tide twitch with surprise. He recovered quickly though, then heaved a sigh. “Guess you would know, then.”

/I just…I guess I’d hoped humans would be different. They were so nice on Griffin Rock, even when Blurr and I messed up. I guess I thought maybe their species was too young to have learned to be that cruel, yet./

High Tide was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was in a more somber tone. “Cruelty has nothin' to do with age or experience. It sucks slag, kid, but sometimes the world is just cruel and the people in it are even crueler. There’s never a good reason for it. Much as we may not like it, it’s just the way of things.”

/It shouldn’t be./ Salvage’s voice was startlingly vicious as he said it.

High Tide shot him a considering look. “Yer right.” he agreed. “But it is, like it or not.” He tilted his helm. “That’s why it's up to good bots, to good people, to do somethin' 'bout it.”

Salvage nodded, seeing distracted.

“Kid?”

/I’m going to rebuild the Rescue Force./ Salvage declared suddenly. /When the War is over and we’re back on Cybertron, I’m going to rebuild it all. Bots are going to need to relearn how to be kind after fighting fo so long. I’m going to teach them. Anyone who wants to learn. Sigma-17 and Blurr can join me, if they want. We can spread good to the world. Maybe we can fix some of the cruelty./

Primus. That was…naive. But not too unrealistic. It'd just be difficult.

High Tide grunted. “I think that’s a good idea, kid.” He glanced over, only to smirk at the sight of a slumping frame and dim optics. “How ‘bout you recharge for now, though? Yer systems need all the rest they can get if you're going to recover.”

Salvage didnt even have the energy to respond. His frame slumped fully into High Tide’s side, optics dimming a moment later and his systems dialing down to the soft hum of recharge. After a moment, the larger mech lifted his arm and wrapped it around his ward’s shoulders, tugging him close as he scooted them both back until he was leaning against the wall.

He sighed, the panic and activity of the day finally catching up to his older frame, and it wasn’t long before he fell into recharge himself, his youngling tucked up against his side as he held him close.

His brats were trouble sometimes, but he wouldn’t change them for all the energon in the world.

———————————————————————————————————

**Summary**

In the first section, humans are torturing a restrained Salvage with an electric prod. He screams loud enough that it blows out his vocalizer. Blurr is restrained with thin wires that are cutting into his seams and joints very deeply. High Tide kills the humans swarming Salvage in a rather violent manner; stepping on one, throwing another against a rock, and shooting the rest. Silas and the rest of MECH escape with Blurr.

In the second section, High Tide steps on two MECH grunts who are guarding the warehouse Blurr is being kept in. He finds Blurr, who is missing a leg, severely mutilated, has a human at his open throat about to disconnect his vocalizer, and his chest cut open to leave his spark exposed. High Tide steps on some more humans, squeezes the one who almost muted Blurr, the shoots the rest with either blasters or a shoulder mounted canon. He is confronted by Silas, but High Tide breaks his arm, steps on one of his legs, and threatens him. Then he frees Blurr, and carries him out of the warehouse.

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that. What did you all think? I hope you liked it. I wanted to explore the idea of an Autobot who hasn’t spent as much time around humanity so he doesn’t have the same fondness for them that Team Prime does, hence why High Tide has no reservations about slaughtering the MECH goons. He’s not a bad guy, technically, but he is a soldier who’s been fighting a violent, bloody war for longer than humanity has existed as a species. So when he saw humans hurting his kids, he didn’t see them as “small squishy beings to protect”, he saw them as “enemies who are hurting my own” and basically he treated the humans the same way he’d treat a Decepticon who was doing the same thing to the people he cares about.

Anyway, now MECH are going to not be quite as careless around the Cybertronians, and Optimus is going to have to live with the guilt of his inaction against MECH leading to the attack and traumatization of two younglings.

Oh, and Blurr and Salvage are going to have a hell of a time recovering. Needless to say they’re gonna have a hard time trusting humans after this. At least they have High Tide to help. Poor idiot still doesn’t realize that he's basically adopted them without meaning to. That’s gonna be a fun epiphany.

Until next time, folks!

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silkling · 3 years

Text

This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.

Part 1

———————————————————————————————————

Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.

The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.

Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.

Heatwave clearly didn’t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.

Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”

Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”

“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”

“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.

“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”

Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”

He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.

“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”

“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.

Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”

Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”

“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.

There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.

“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”

Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.

“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”

“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”

“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.

Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.

Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”

There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.

“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”

That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”

Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”

Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”

Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”

“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”

This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.

“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.

There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.

“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.

Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.

Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”

Blades paused. “Yes?”

Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”

“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”

That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.

“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.

“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”

Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.

Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”

Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”

“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.

“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”

“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.

The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.

“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”

Dreadwing simply bowed his head.

“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”

Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”

Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.

Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”

Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”

Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.

“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“

——————————

Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.

They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.

To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.

So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.

“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”

“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”

“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.

“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”

Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”

Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”

“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”

Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”

“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.

The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”

“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”

Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.

Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”

“A spark is like…your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.

Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.

“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.

Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.

“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.

Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”

“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.

“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”

“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”

Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.

“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.

“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.

Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.

Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”

Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”

Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”

Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.

“Terrorcon? Cody asked.

“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”

And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”

“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”

The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”

Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.

“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.

“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…

“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”

That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”

“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”

“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.

“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.

“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.

“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”

The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,

“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.

——————————

Part 3

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silkling · 3 years

Text

This is part three of an ask box fic. For part one or two, click below.

Part 1 Part 2

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There was shocked silence, and then Dani put a hand on his cheek. “So twins are one spark that was split by the Well, and gestalts are many Sparks that were merged by it?”

Blades paused, then nodded. “Yeah.” he whispered.

“So you have brothers then? How many?” Kade asked.

Blades swallowed. “Four.” he wrapped his arms around himself. The others could tell something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. “Hot Spot, Streetwise, Groove, and First Aid.”

“Soooo…..where are they? What happened to them?” Kade asked bluntly.

Blades flinched, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Dani seemed confused. “Don’t you have a spark bond with them, like Dreadwing was saying?”

“I…do.”

“Then how-“

“Stasis.” Chase cut her off, sounding horrified. “We were in stasis. I do not know much about spark bonds, but I do remember reading that stasis is another way to mute a bond. We were in stasis for thousands of years, and after Cybertron fell, they probably fled far away.”

Blades swallowed. “If they’re even still alive.” he closed his optics. “The stasis, combined with the distance, would have muted the bond enough for the breaking of it not to kill me if they’d died. In stasis, I wouldn’t have even felt it break.” He opened his optics to meet the gazes of his teammates, optics wide and welling with cooling fluid. The forces of his emotions were so strong it was making his frame overheat, which caused his optics to leak the fluid in an attempt to cool him down. “All I know is, I woke up from stasis after the crash and I couldn’t feel them anymore. I felt them before we went into stasis. We were too far to communicate with words, but they sensed how scared I was and they just kept sending me worry and reassurance.” he whimpered. “But when I woke up I didn’t even have that. I don’t know where my brothers are or if they’re even alive. That’s what really hurts.”

There was a long beat of silence, and then Dani was pressing herself to his face to hug him. “Oh, Blades.” she said, sounding so pained and sad.

Blades felt a hand on his back, and looked up to see Dreadwimg staring at him, a knowing look in his optics. “I’m truly sorry, little one. At least when I was separated from my brother, I could use the bond to tell he still lived.”

Blades could only whimper again, and then his team was gathering around him. Dreadwing stepped back to give them space, and he watched at the small, odd little family came together to comfort the distressed flyer.

Blades just shook, forced to finally confront the reality of the situation. He hadn’t let himself think about it, before now. Now really. But he’d finally been forced to and he wished he hadn’t. He just wanted his brothers back. He missed them. He didn’t protest as Boulder gathered him close, and instead curled in to take the comfort his teammates were offering. Eventually, he exhausted himself, and he slipped into a light recharge, dreaming of days long past.

——————————

Another week passed, and they’d finally contacted Optimus. The Prime had in very brief details explained something about a fight for the restoration of Cybertron, before agreeing to come talk with Dreadwing. They had indeed talked when he’d arrived at the island, and the Prime had agreed with Dreadwing’s continued presence here as long as the Burns agreed, and as long as the Seeker informed him before leaving Griffin Rock. Dreadwing had agreed to those terms, and the Prime had taken his leave once more.

Now, the Seeker was finally fully settled in the little bunker. It wasn’t an impressive space, but he wouldn’t be picky. Currently, it was late night, and the humans were asleep and the younglings in recharge. Or at least, most of them were. The little copter was missing. Dreadwing had noticed how he’d seemed more withdrawn ever since he’d confessed to being gestalt. The Seeker couldn’t blame the poor mechling, not really. So, when he realized the little bot was missing, he only sighed and went to search for him.

He found Blades in the courtyard by the firehouse, sitting on the ground and staring at the stars. He sat himself next to the youngling, frowning. “You should be recharging, little one.”

Blades looked at him, then back up. “I can’t. I keep remembering.” he sounded miserable.

Dreadwinf sighed. “Tell me, then. What is is that scares you more: holding on to hope that your brothers still live, or believing in the chance that they have been offlined?”

Blades flinched. “I don’t know. Both hurt.” he whispered. “Dreadwing, the last thing they ever felt from me was fear. What if they thought I was being hunted and killed like the other off world Rescue Bot teams? I asked Optimus when he was here. I know the Rescue Force massacre happened a only about an orn after we went into stasis.”

Dreadwing stilled, considering. That was a very likely scenario. “I do not know what they thought.” he said honestly. “Perhaps they did believe that. Perhaps they held o to hope that you escaped and searched for you. Perhaps they search for you still. Perhaps they were offlined in the War.” he sighed. “I cannot give you the answers, little one. Cybertron’s children are scattered, and I would not know where to tell you to begin searching, even if I knew for certain they were alive.”

Blades whimpered, and Dreadwing wasn’t surprised when the youngling turned to curl into his side. The Seeker draped an arm over the shaking shoulders and quivering rotors, holding the mechling close as he grieved. He wished he could help Blades more, but the truth was that he couldn’t. No one could. Blades would have to decide how to handle this himself.

As the youngling shook against his side, Dreadwing lifted his own gaze to the stars.

Can you see me, Skyquake? Would you approve of this? I would hope so. These mechlings need proper guidance, and the Prime refuses to give it. Starscream can wait. I hope you can forgive me for making you wait for your vengeance.

Blades hiccuped against him, curling even tighter against his side, and Dreadwing gently petted the trembling rotors. Slowly, the smaller flyer relaxed, until he had eventually slipped into recharge while tucked into the Seeker’s side.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, then left out an breath of a chuckle and turned his gaze back up.

Primus, I’ve gone soft.

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Holy crap it’s done. I finished it. I hope my asker is happy. That was a monster and a half. It was fun to write, and I very much enjoyed it, but dear god was it long. My muse kept screaming ideas at me the whole time. Seriously you have no idea.

Also, can you all tell Blades is my favorite? Can you tell? Because he is. I adore him. I hope you don’t mind that I included the Protectobot Blades idea in. I’ve seen it floating around a few other places before now, so the idea isn’t originally mine, but I really like it and I think it fits with his character, so here we are.

With that done, I’m off to finish my next ask box prompt. It should be up in the next couple days. It will be nowhere as long as this one. In fact, most ask box fics will even get two posts long, so don’t get used to this.

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