Could we see some more of the Smokescreen is Amalgamous AU?
Very gladly! That AU is a guilty pleasure of mine so I’m happy someone out there likes it!
There was darkness. It was cold, and painful and it pulled-
The planet screamed, and his people died. They died, and died , and-
Then, heat. Like a blast, it exploded-
His children, his dearest, beloved children, could only watch in horror-
His spark sang with terror, so much he thought-
“You must remember.”
And so the other children and their father combined their powers-
“You have a duty.”
But things went wrong-
Smokescreen was torn from his processor with a rough, choking gasp, and he felt something disconnect from the back of his helm. His shuddered on the hard metal berth he was strapped down to, his optics taking a moment longer to clear of the dark static clouding them. When they did, he turned his head towards the sounds he was hearing and saw Knock Out disconnecting Megatron from the cortical psychic patch. The warlord was on his pedes and at Smokescreen’s face in half a sparkbeat.
“What was that, Autobot? Why could I not walk through your processor as I pleased?” he snarled.
Smokescreen could only groan and let his helm fall back against the berth. “You really think I know? I don’t. I’ve been having those weird dreams and hearing those voices in my helm ever since I got to Earth.” he snapped irritably. “Sure, I heard weird things in my recharge sometimes on Cybertron, but it only ever got bad on this planet.” If he could have thrown his hands up, he would have.
Megatron stepped back, seemingly confused. “…you are very free with your tongue on this matter.” he remarked dryly.
Smokescreen shot him a look. “It’s annoying. And frustrating. I don’t know if I’m going insane or if there’s just a really traumatic set of memories from my youth that suddenly want me to remember them, but I never get a clear grasp on what I happen to see or hear. You think I want any of that? You got snippets of just a couple of my nights. I have to deal with that slag all night, every night, whenever I recharge.” his tone was tired and wry.
Megatron, blessedly, didn’t seem to take offense. He was too confused and weirded out. It seemed he got over it quickly though, because then his face twisted into a cruel snarl again and he turned to Knock Out. “We will try again. Increase the strength of the machine. I intend to go deeper. I will learn the function of these infernal relics and the location of the Autobot base.” he spat, whirling and returning to the other berth.
Before Smokescreen could protest, the patch was attached to the back of his helm again and he was pulled back into his own processor.
He had snuck out of his berthroom. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, and if one of his big brothers found out he’d be in so much trouble, but he was bored! It was so dull in his room, and even trying to imagine new shapes and forms and doing his best to change into them was starting to feel monotonous. He just wanted to explore! He was still a sparkling, was it too much to ask for some entertainment?
He toddled last guards and servants alike, staying close to the wall and in the shadows to keep out of sight. He had a mission, and no one was going to stop him!
“There you are, Ammy! I was looking for you, little one.”
No one except his big sister, apparently. He squealed as slim hands lifted him up and tucked him against a lithe chest, his small lips turning downwards in a pout. “Sol! No!” he whined.
Sol only smiled indulgently. “Oh? Why not? Why aren’t you in your room, little Ammy?”
He sagged. “Don’t wanna.” He mumbled. “‘S boring. No one wants to play and lessons are hard and big brothers don’t like me so can’ ask them for help.” he said miserably.
Sol softened. “Oh sweetspark, why would you ever believe our brothers don’t like you?”
He shot her a confused look, lifting a hand and trying to change it into a claw, only…it failed and transformed into a flipper instead. After a moment, the transformation seemed to shudder and his servo reverted back to normal without him having sent the command. “Cause I can’t do good with the gift Sire gave me?”
Sol laughed, light and free. “Oh little one.” she cooed. “It’s perfectly alright that you’re going slow. You have a wonderful, amazing gift, and if it takes you a little longer to figure it out then that’s not a problem. Our brothers don’t blame you for that, nor do they hate you.”
He whimpered, lower lip trembling. “Then why…?”
She sighed. “They are mechs, dearest little brother. Very foolish young mechs with the emotional intelligence of a treat oven.” she remarked dryly.
He blinked, then giggled despite himself.
Sol smiled at him, pleased to see her youngest brother cheering up. “Promise me you won’t ever be as emotionally posh and stunted as them, will you little Ammy?”
He beamed, his chest plates puffing out. “Promise!” he crowed.
Sol grinned. “Good. Now, where was it you were going on your little adventure? Perhaps you’d like a lieutenant for your quest?” she asked.
He gasped, delighted. Big sister was going to join him? That would be perfect! “The Singing Crystals!”
Sol laughed, and turned in the direction of the gardens. “Then to the Singing Crystals we shall go!”
He could only giggle in utter delight, a gentle adoration for his sister and sheer joy at being acknowledged filling his spark.
Now, if only he could convince his biggest brother to let him try his cool sword…
Smokescreen groaned as he was forced into the conscious world again. “Can you stop that?” he complained weakly. “It’s a pain and I can’t think right.”
The warlord, who was also coming up after that, only snarled and stood. “What was that?” he spat.
“I don’t know! How many times do I have to tell you! That was new, even for me, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it because I have no clue what it was!”
The exhausted shout seemed to give Megatron pause. “So I see.” he said darkly. “You do not have siblings, then?”
“No!” Smokescreen groaned. “No brothers, no sisters, and I don’t even remember my creators. I grew up in a Youth Center, for Pit’s sake. Not…what that was.”
Megatron hummed. The youngling seemed to be telling the truth. He could tell that the repeated uses of the cortical psychic patch had exhausted the young mechling. There was no deception in his tone or body language or EM field. The warlord thought he was too mentally drained to even try and come up with a proper lie. Which meant he really did know nothing, and that was even more irritating. With a disgusted scoff, he grabbed the odd relic and turned to the door.
“Knock Out!” he barked over his shoulder. “You will continue. Do not stop until you have the information I require. Rip his mind to pieces if you must!” and then the doors shut behind him, and the two sports cars were left alone.
Knock Out sighed, and before the youngling could pull his mind together he reattached the patch, before setting the machine to pull him out after a set amount of time and went to the other berth to plus himself into it. Whatever his Lord demanded, he had to obey. It was annoying, really. This task was so beneath him. Regardless, he attached himself to the machine, and then the world faded to dark.
They were floating in darkness. Smokescreen didn’t know why. Though, he was pleased to note he wasn’t being thrown into visions or voices or memories this time around. At least he could avoid that headache. But, he couldn’t see the medic and that worried him. Was the Deception actually rooting around his memory banks. He felt a sharp pain, and a flash of memory from his time at the Archives assaulted him before it faded. Apparently yes, Knock Out was in fact ripping through his memories to get what he wanted.
Panic boiled in his chest and he wanted to scream. No! He refused to let the ‘Cons figure out what the Keys were for or where the base was. He wouldn’t betray the team like that. He wouldn’t! His panic grew as there was another stab of pain, another snapshot of a memory, and then…something in the very depths of his processor surged to the forefront. It wasn’t a personality. It wasn’t a memory. Smokescreen knew that much. Something in his spark settled, telling him that it was an echo, and impression of instinct and reflex and knowledge that had once been his. It circled and coiled around him, settling against his frame, and Smokescreen….gave in to it. Maybe it would help him stop knock Out.
As soon as he did, the feel of the Autobot’s mind changed, becoming older, more powerful and heavier on the one rooting through his memories. It made Knock Out pause, and he sensed a presence roaring towards him.
“Leave, intruder. You have no right to sift through the mind of a Prime. Leave, before I see fit to fry your processor!”
Knock Out gasped, and then the thing, whatever it was, he couldn’t even see it, rammed into him at full speed, and he was flung from the Autobot’s mind.
Knock Out came to with a yell and an ungainly flail. He flailed himself right off the berth, hitting the ground with a harsh crash and blinking the static from his vision. He looked to the Autobot to demand what in the Pit had happened, only-
Only there was a femme there. She was transparent and her colors couldn’t really be determined, her flickering form shining with a golden orange glow. She turned to him at his shout, humming. She seemed amused. “I see you’ve learned what it means to go up against my little brother, medic.” a faint smirk twisted at elegant features, “I suggest you endeavor to avoid angering him in the future. He is the most laid back of all my siblings, but it only means that in the end, his anger is the rarest and most fearsome.” she purred.
Then she seemingly dismissed him, turning to the Autobot instead. She leaned in, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s time to wake up, dearest Ammy. There’s still work to be done.” she cooed. She swiped her hand through the machine for the cortical psychic patch, and it fritzed and disconnected itself from the youngling. He began stirring, and the femme smiled. “Come now, don’t be difficult. Wake up, little brother.” she whispered, her hand swiping through the restraints. They disengaged, and the Autobot fell to his knees on the floor.
That was enough to snap Knock Out out of his staring, and he made to get up and stop whatever this all was when he felt a clawed servo dig into his shoulder. He glanced back, seeing another pale, ghostly shape, this time a large and pointy mech flowing with a deep blue light, and baring sharp dentae at him. “Do not try to stop us, little mech. Will not allow it.” And then the mech glowed brighter for a second, and Knock Out fell back into unconsciousness.
Smokescreen onlined his optics to the phantom feeling of fingers brushing his cheek. He shook his head, clearing the buzz of static, and his vocalizer clicked with his confusion. He remembered the odd presence in his mind, that had been a part of him but also one not fully integrated, and…he didn’t know what to make of it. It was gone, now, resettled into the back of his processor, but he could still feel it there. It was important. Whatever it was, it was the other half of…whatever is was the voices seemed to desperate for him to remember.
He looked up, doorwings hitching when he saw the ghostly femme. It was the one from his vision. Or had it actually be a memory? If it was, isn’t hadn’t been his. She smiled at him, leaning in to brush lips across his forehelm.
“You must go now, little brother. You have a duty to fulfill. Reclaim the Keys and return to your friends.” she smiled gently. “You’re getting very close, my Ammy. You must remember soon. Cybertron’s children depend on it.” Before he could question her, she stepped back and stood. “I cannot maintain my presence on this plane any longer. The rest is up to you.” And then she was gone.
He blinked, resetting his vocalizer, and glanced over to see the medic was unconscious. He had no idea what was going on. He was starting to accept that this just might be his life now. “Okay then.” he said after a moment.
He stood, and his optics fell on the Phase Shifter on the table by the berth he’d been strapped to. He was quick to grab it and lock it around his wrist, and then he was moving. Most of his escape to the upper deck was a haze. He moved on instinct built in by his training as an Elite Guard, but also….also other instincts, instincts that could only come from that place in the back of his processor that felt like it was a piece of his very spark.
It was when he was in free fall that he was able to pull back to himself, just as his comm. beeped. He accepted it, already knowing who was on the other end.
Yep, that was Ratchet. “Hey, Ratch!” he said cheerfully, though he couldn’t keep the sheer exhaustion from his voice. “I really, really need a ground bridge right about now!”
“It’s coming kid, just hold on.”
And then there was silence on his end of the comm. line. After a moment, a ground bridge opened under him, and he remembered to turn off the phase shifter, stowing the Omega Keys in his subspace while he was at it. Of course, Megatron chose that moment to slam into him and send him flying. He panicked, and when he tried to turn the phase shifter on again he realized he couldn’t. It had been damaged when Megatron hit him. It would be an easy enough fix…if he could get back to base, that is. Unfortunately, it looked like that wouldn’t be happening. The ground was too close for Ratchet to open up another ground bridge.
“Youngling!” Ratchet’s voice was frantic over the comms. “You’re about to fall into a technological dead zone. We won’t be able to communicate with you or track your-“ and then the signal cut off. Slag. His team couldn’t save him, and Megatron was quickly gaining on his falling form.
If only he had wings and thrusters-!
And then his doorwings and pedes tingled, and he did. That same instinct that had led him out of the Nemesis guided him into turning on the thrusters, and then he was shooting up and away from the ground. He increased power to them, and he was rocketing away from Megatron’s pursuing form. His processor was scrambling like mad, trying to understand why he was suddenly flight capable. This shouldn’t be possible. Only Shifters we’re able to transform so freely and fluidly. But Shifters had also died out generations ago, so he couldn’t be one…could he?
Yes. That increasingly familiar instinct purred.
He kept flying, going and going as his mind buzzed and could never come up with answers. He only stopped when his pedes, or rather his thrusters, started to throb, and he realized he was pushing too much power into them. He landed, stumbling and crashing as his pedes touched down, and he just wanted the unfamiliar additions gone. His frame tingled again, and then they were gone. Though, he realized his pedes still hurt, and when he looked down he saw they were damaged. The injuries had carried over from the thrusters, maybe? It didn’t matter. The others would assume it was Decepticon doing. He wouldn’t correct them. Whatever his frame had done…he didn’t think it was wise to let anyone know just yet.
His comm. beeped again, and he accepted on reflex.
“Smokescreen!” Oh hey, it was Prime. “Youngling, are you harmed? We have picked up your signal once more. How did you get there?”
“I-“ and he couldn’t keep his vocalizer from spitting static as his voice broke due to exhaustion. He reset it, trying again. “I don’t know, Sir.” he said, falling back on ingrained military training. “After I lost communications everything just happened so fast and it’s all just a haze.”
There was silence on the other end, before Prime’s once came back, notably softer. “Ratchet is sending a ground bridge. Just come home for now, Smokescreen. We can worry about the details of your escape once you’ve recovered. Are you hurt?”
The ground bridge spiraled open in front of him, and the young Praxian swallowed. “A little. Mostly tired. I have the Keys.” he said numbly, then dropped the line and stepped through the bridge.
He pulled the Omega Keys from his subspace as he did so. As soon as he stepped into the base, the bridge closed behind him and he pushed the Keys into the arms of the nearest person, who turned out to be Bumblebee. He heard Ratchet curse, and realize the medic probably saw the state of his pedes. Yeah, they weren’t pretty. They were also very, very painful. He turned to the medic to ask him about that, but before he could he felt a small prick in his neck cables, and the was slipping into blissful darkness.
Back in the forest where Smokescreen had stepped into the bridge, two ghostly forms shimmered into view. One, a golden femme. The other, a midnight mech.
The femme spoke first. “Even in a new frame and with no memories of his true self, Ammy is still the same.” she sounded inexplicably fond.
“Ugh. I would have hoped his lack of memories would grant him the chance to learn maturity.” the mech groused.
She laughed. “Come now, Onyx. You know you love him as much as the rest of us.”
Onyx growled, eyes narrowing. “He has to remember soon, Solomus. Otherwise, it may be too late.”
“He will.” Solomus said, confident. “Of course, he would remember sooner if Sire would stop being so cryptic and just send him a clear message.”
The two ghostly forms looked at each other, before snorting and devolving to laughter.
“The day Sire abandons his riddles and puzzles is the day the Unmaker decides to become a treat maker. It’s not happening.” Onyx sniggered roughly.
Solomus hummed. “No, I imagine not. That just means it’s up to dearest Amalgamous to figure it out on his own. I have faith, though. He’s always been clever.”
Onyx sighed. “You’re right, I know you are. I just wish he’d hurry it up and remember. The fate of Cybertron may well depend on it.”
And then, the two forms faded from this plane and returned to their own, the powers that had allowed them to cross over now spent. All that was left was two swirling eddies of leaves on the wind, in the spaces they had once stood.
And there it is! It’s all starting to come together at last! Poor Smokescreen still has no idea what’s happening, but he’s getting more and more pieces of the puzzle with each day. This time, he even got a proper memory! And his Shifter abilities are starting to return!
Unfortunately for him, now it’s not just Optimus who suspects that there’s something up with Smokey. Megatron just doesn’t know if the young Autobot is insane, or is it’s something…more.
I hope everyone liked that! It was fun to write. I like Smokescreen. I wish more people did.
As always, my ask box is always open if you want to ask a question about anything to do with me/my blog/my AUs, or if you just want to send in a fic prompt yourself.
Until next time, friends!
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