Transformers Prime: Broken Sparks (AU)

…But it was only just beginning… After some time, Starscream recovered, took the oath along with everyone else, and was now officially a Decepticon. The faction symbol on his chest confirmed it… It was also expected that Megatron would not allow them to immediately take any significant positions; they were all reduced to the rank of privates, practically the lowest in the power structure. Starscream did not speak of it, but for him, it was a blow. For many cycles he had been building his political career, gathering supporters and slowly moving upward, toward the very Citadel… And now that administrative building, the goal of Starscream’s entire life, was only a dream, one he did not want to wake from. After all, opening his optics, he once again found himself in the barracks with everyone… He, Nightfly, Warp, and Thunder would have to start all over. And while the triad preferred to stick together, whether intentionally or not, the leadership tried to separate Nightfly and Starscream, so the former lord would not feel as though he had someone to protect him. From now on, Starscream was on his own, though not lonely, with Warp and Thunder supporting him. Time passed quickly, day by day, cycle by cycle, and the war showed no signs of ending. On the contrary, everything was getting worse and worse; the conflict was consuming the entire planet until not a single neutral corner remained. Those who did not want to participate had left Cybertron when the conflict first erupted, and now all Cybertronians were divided into two camps. Engulfed by the flames of battle, they barely noticed how their planet was slowly but surely being destroyed. As for our main characters, both revealed leadership qualities, the ability to manage groups, squads, and even divisions. Starscream and Night were unafraid to make difficult decisions during battle or skillfully coordinate forces; however, their tactics could not be called similar. Nightfly was more conservative: he had extensive service experience even before the war, so he knew what could help in a given situation. Starscream, on the other hand, had less experience in warfare than his former deputy, yet the four-winged Seeker possessed incredible analytical and strategic abilities. Traits like cunning and calculation allowed him to devise the most optimal strategies for achieving goals. Deception of the enemy, ambush, acting… Starscream was a risky player, and the deeper he delved into the firestorm of war, the more brightly he revealed himself, sometimes even shocking himself. Megatron personally followed few, but Soundwave’s reports intrigued the Decepticon leader, so soon both Nightfly and Starscream were promoted, though unfortunately, they did not meet. Night was sent to one part of the planet, Starscream with his subordinates to another, and the chances of crossing paths rapidly approached zero. Due to his careerist nature, Starscream fully immersed himself in work, even forgetting about his subordinate, but Nightfly did not. He remained in this faction because of Starscream; because of him, the jet endured everything around him, and his spark believed that sooner or later they would meet. Lying on the platform, the jet stared at the barracks ceiling. His group finally had a chance to rest offline and recharge, but he could not sleep. In his thoughts was the image of his only close companions on this planet, particularly clear was Starscream. He remembered the pre-war years, what his former lord had been like when they first met. Such a bore, yet incredibly sweet workaholic. Starscream always loved to explain things, teach, and study. He enjoyed it when others followed him, listened, and supported him, which made the Seeker flourish and give his all to achieve the best result. Memories… Night even smiled, recalling the moment when Starscream first took him to Voss’s archive in the Citadel. A huge bank of data, history, science, and everything else. Starscream always strived for more, and Nightfly swore to himself that he would support him no matter what. — But what if that image remains only a memory? — The jet thought. — War can change a personality… Perhaps Starscream has changed in the meantime? What will the war do to him? What will Megatron do… to him? Night blinked his optics and sat up. No. His thoughts had gone in the wrong direction. In reality, the jet seriously feared that when he next saw Starscream, he would no longer be the same… And indeed, Starscream had changed over that time. The harsh and brutal conditions of wartime had reshaped his character: he had become more selfish, arrogant, cruel, and hot-tempered. Stars sometimes scolded his subordinates when they expressed disagreement, constantly emphasizing that HE was still in charge, putting his persona first. However, Starscream was not the only one who had changed: Nightfly, for example, had grown harsher, his caustic remarks often ill-timed and, to put it mildly, irritating. But the pinnacle of it all was that Warp often acted before thinking, frequently putting everyone in danger. This annoyed Starscream and Thundercracker, causing conflicts within the triad. And when it seemed that everything was about to collapse, their bond proved far stronger. Over time, all three adapted to one another… The war did not break them, and despite the inevitable changes in their characters, it even drew them closer, for each new day they could lose each other forever; and is it worth holding onto resentment, anger, or hatred when next time you might not get to say “forgive me”…? After some time, by Megatron’s order, they were returned to Kaon. Night had already been there for some time; he had arrived earlier with his squad and had already been promoted to officer. Now he commanded an entire unit, yet this brought him little joy. He had completely lost track of time and the desire to engage in work. Nightfly simply did what was required of him, without caring to advance his career, yet he succeeded nonetheless. However, one piece of news finally drew him out of this state of “autonomy.” Alpha-1 was returning to Kaon! Nightfly stood on a balcony, some distance from the landing strip. And although Seekers could take off from a standstill, Kaon had a specially equipped strip for this purpose, as bots did not launch individually, but in squads—and right now, three fighters, leading their squad, were landing there. Night saw them from afar, and the fact that all three were alive warmed his spark. Even if this bot had gained a reputation as cold, emotionless, and strict, Nightfly was still the same living, feeling bot. The triad was due for a promotion. Starscream, as the leader, was given the rank of officer; Sky and Thunder, now held positions just below him in their new reconnaissance unit under Starscream’s command. After the awards ceremony, all three went their separate ways. Kaon was safe, so they didn’t have to stick together. Starscream walked through the main building’s corridors, observing the changes; there had been recent renovations. — I wonder… what is Voss like now… — the Seeker thought, recalling his home. His hand traced along a metal wall until it ended and a fork in the corridor appeared before him. Spotting an interesting figure at the end, Starscream headed toward it. — How are you here?.. Haven’t gotten bored? — a chuckling voice called from behind. Night had heard the footsteps and recognized them. Yet he did not turn, hardly believing it wasn’t his imagination. And there he was… a voice that sent a shiver down his wings. The jet stopped and turned to the Seeker, whose optics shone with unmistakable… joy?.. He was happy to see his former deputy? — Lord Megatron will not let anyone get bored, — the jet replied in the same calm tone, looking at his old friend. They hadn’t spoken in so long that both had nearly forgotten past offenses, arguments; one might say they missed each other. On the surface, the dark blue bot remained impassive, as if he didn’t care at all about the meeting, but the only giveaway was the lifted corners of his mouth and the gentle gaze. Those few who could read his emotions immediately noticed the slightest change, and Starscream was one of them, so the bot smiled even brighter at the sight of his blue optics, even showing a small, cute snarl. — Haha, and you haven’t changed a bit! — said the Seeker in an even more cheerful tone, putting his hands behind his back and straightening his shoulders. — And you’ve changed… a lot, — Nightfly let out a small chuckle and slightly closed his eyes, glancing over the silver body. Starscream had many scratches on his surface, and the polish no longer gleamed as before. But even so, how nice it was to see a familiar face in this nest of snakes! It warmed the soul. — Really?.. Though… unsurprising. You read my reports? Come on, tell me, how do you like my work? I’m doing great, aren’t I? — In reality, so much had happened; I have so much to tell you! — Nightfly had not yet heard all the stories Alpha-1 had experienced on the front, so for Starscream, this was a perfect chance to chatter. And the jet himself?.. He just closed his eyes and nodded. — I have a couple of free hours, let’s go, and you’ll tell me everything on the way. The pleasant, even in a way exciting, meeting went very well: they talked now, and later periodically just spoke even outside of work. Both subordinates noticed that Starscream had become quieter after finding someone to unload his processor on with conversation, and Nightfly was only glad to listen. For the silent jet, he had really missed this.

***

Praxis—the city on Cybertron’s sunny side—was now shrouded in smoke and ash from explosions and fires. The Decepticons were taking the city by storm, and countless lives had been lost: here and there lay lifeless bodies, Autobots and Decepticons alike, with barely any energon remaining, most of it having burned away. Across the battlefield, Decepticons patrolled, searching for survivors buried under debris or scavenging any functional weapons they could claim. Seeker squads scanned with radars, hunting fugitives to bring them before their lord, who had personally arrived in the city. In the early days of war, Megatron had taken part in many skirmishes and operations himself. But as his army grew, the need for his presence on the battlefield diminished. Still, the leader of the purple faction continued to attend key events personally. And why not witness the fall of Praxis? Yet the Decepticon leader wasn’t alone. Soundwave accompanied him, and he brought Alpha-1 and Nightfly, along with several bots from his squad. It was becoming increasingly clear how a circle of bots close to Megatron was forming—those whom the former gladiator valued and whose opinions he respected. Previously, this couldn’t be called a “circle of confidants”; it had only been Soundwave and Shockwave. Now, more frequently, Megatron would bring in Night and Seekers’ input. And wherever Starscream went, Thunder and Warp were there too. So there were already five of them—not counting Megatron’s other trusted officers, who were spread across the stars, managing cities, or taking new territories. Speaking of taking cities…Praxis had fallen, and those who survived were lined up before Megatron—now their fates would be decided. Starscream walked slowly past the bots and fems kneeling before Megatron. Some had held onto neutrality until the end; they called themselves “loners.” They hadn’t wanted—or hadn’t managed—to leave Cybertron at the start of the war, and they had no desire to join any faction, often living as bandits or helping whichever side seemed advantageous. But, to their misfortune, Megatron tolerated no such politics: you were either a Decepticon, or you were scrap. And the gladiator wouldn’t accept just anyone, because resources in wartime were scarce, and wasting them on useless bots who couldn’t justify their upkeep was illogical. If these bots wanted to survive, they had to prove not only loyalty but usefulness. Now, this unenviable task of “sorting” had fallen to the silver Seeker. And no matter how unpleasant the order, Starscream would carry it out—he was no longer afraid to kill. He hadn’t been afraid for a long time. The mechanoid approached each one, assessing what they could offer and whether they were willing to serve Megatron. Those who refused or proved useless were stripped of their sparks on the spot. — …So, what are you? — Starscream asked one bot. Panic immediately seized the prisoner; he couldn’t answer, trembling and mumbling. Waiting a few moments to no effect, the Seeker snorted, then pierced the bot’s chest with his claws. Instantly, the prisoner froze, silence falling over him as he stared at Starscream in shock. The Seeker looked down at the protruding arm and the energon dripping to the floor. With a flick of his manipulator, he swept away the excess energon. The prisoner lingered for a few clicks before his optics went dark and his lifeless body collapsed at Starscream’s feet. Crimson eyes gazed at the corpse with neither pity nor doubt before moving to the next. Starscream continued down the line, asking the simplest questions. Some earned their lives by pledging loyalty to Megatron and the Decepticon cause. Others flatly refused to obey, choosing death and berating the Kaon arena gladiator with every last word. And some, terrified, could barely form a sentence. Only five prisoners remained: according to Soundwave, two “civilians” and three polis-bots who seemed more loyal to the crimson faction than to the purple. Starscream approached the bot nearest him—a pompous wheeled bot. Where did he get the wax to maintain his plating? The Seeker eyed him with disdain, trying to gauge him “at a glance,” but no conclusions came. Perhaps his spark carried bias—or even hatred—toward non-fliers, but before striking, he asked: — And you? How can you be of use to our leader? — Starscream’s hand was already covered in energon. The glowing blue liquid trickled from his claws onto the floor, some of it seeping into the bot’s paint—later it would take scrubbing and solvent to remove all traces. Hearing the question, the wheeled bot finally lifted his gaze to the red optics. A jolt of fear ran through him, leaving him unable to speak for a moment. Irritated by the silence, Starscream raised his hand—but then the prisoner blurted out: — I’m a mechanic! — With ventilation whistling slightly, he hurried on. — And… I have a medic. He pointed to a large bot sitting nearby. The medic gave the red sportscar a strange glance at first, then nodded submissively. Unable to bear the terrifying presence of Starscream any longer, the mechanic lowered his gaze, trying to catch his breath and calm himself. His entire spark and body pleaded for mercy, for the preservation of his worthless life. Fear and terror gripped him, knowing his neural network would remain tense for a long time, and nightmares would haunt his processor. But even so, his timidity meant he would obey. And judging by his appearance, he was young and foolish—perfect for having Decepticon ideas drilled into his head, to be accepted as obvious, unquestionable truth.Starscream froze, assessing the significance of the wheeled bot’s outcry. His hand slowly lowered, and the fighter turned to Megatron. — My Lord, I dare say that at the moment our faction is in need of field medics. Your forces are vast, but I think it would be wiser to repair the wounded rather than scrap them faster than necessary. — Once again, the four-winged fighter showed his engagement in faction affairs. He knows more than is required for his rank, he takes interest, strives to reduce losses, and lead the faction to victory. Has Starscream already forgotten the time before he became a Decepticon? In truth, it was so long ago that it feels as though the war has always existed, and peaceful times are just a sweet dream—a self-deception of a neural network weary from battles and lack of rest… — Hm… good advice, Starscream, but can we be certain he won’t be killed at the front? — Megatron replied, tilting his head slightly to the side. — You know what it’s like there: sending out such a green recruit, even a medic, we’d lose him faster than the vanguard. Racking his processor, Starscream looked again at the prisoner, then at his “assistant.” — I believe, my Lord, they can be sent to Kaon for combat training. Soldier training that new recruits undergo. And… there he can also demonstrate his abilities as a healer. Megatron hummed and narrowed his optics. He knew Starscream would suggest this and supported the proposal. However… it wasn’t that simple. — I agree with you, Starscream. — Only you will handle their training, — the Decepticon leader said with a slight smirk, causing a freeze among everyone nearby. Among the subordinates, Nightfly, even Starscream himself. Only Soundwave remained standing as if nothing had happened… Why is Megatron sending his OFFICER to the rear to train someone?! Why not someone else? Less important… In reality, it all made sense. Perhaps Starscream had forgotten that he once loved to study and teach others, but Megatron remembers, thanks to the walking data bank at his side. Soundwave had reminded Megatron of who Starscream was before the war, and with his current combat experience and status, the Seeker would have no trouble earning the attention of recruits and training them. He would handle it better than anyone else, which is precisely why Megatron chose him. Although… to Starscream, it felt like mockery… — M-… Me?! But they’re wheeled bots! — he exclaimed at the assignment, outraged. Yet the Lord’s gaze, his snarl, and the growl picked up by audio sensors conveyed that arguing was not an option… So Starscream humbly lowered his head and nodded. — I… meant to say… of course, my Lord… After a few clicks, he turned to the two prisoners. — Swear loyalty to your Lord and Master! — Starscream shouted, and the military guards pushed the two forward, toward Megatron, demanding their oath.When the words of the oath were spoken and both bots went to the other recruits, the leader of the purple faction looked at the remaining polis-bots. At least one of them, black and red, proudly wore the Autobot symbol and stared at the gladiator with defiance and hatred. A few moments of this staring contest passed, and Megatron delivered his verdict: — Send these three to Overlord — let him extract useful information from them by his methods. Starscream turned, in mute shock, watching as one bot after another was lifted and taken away. His gaze met the blue optics of one of them, and a spark of sympathy flickered in his chest, for he understood that death was preferable to becoming a toy of a psychopath. He had already faced this Decepticon personally. He didn’t want that again, thank you very much. Pushing the thoughts aside and turning his head away, the Seeker looked at Megatron. — If you allow, I will transport the recruits to Nemesis and accompany them to Kaon. — You may. You can take your triad with you. After that, Starscream, in a commanding tone, ordered them to follow him, put his hands behind his back, and headed toward the landing pad where one of the military ships was waiting. Observing his officer, Megatron looked at Nightfly, who apparently wanted to leave with them, but the Lord did not permit it, demanding he stay and deal with another batch of prisoners when they were brought in. Nightfly suspected that he would also be forced to kill. Megatron knew this bot, despite everything, was honest and noble, so he preferred not to attack the unarmed, only finishing off the wounded, yet now he would have to extinguish the sparks of helpless wheelbots, toward whom he even felt no revulsion. Standing before the prisoners kneeling in a row, Nightfly slightly clenched his teeth. He knew this was another test of loyalty, and if he failed it, refused now, he would have trouble. Approaching the first bot in the line, he appraised it. Small, weak, definitely not fit for combat, sitting and trembling with fear, staring in horror at the massive figure of the dark blue Decepticon. When Nightfly asked how this prisoner could be useful to the Decepticon faction, he received no coherent answer, only stammering sounds. Glancing at Megatron, Nightfly understood without words that the unfortunate wheelbot would have to be killed, and the Desolider expected it. What would the “right” bot choose when given such an order? Night had killed before, but never like this, “for Megatron’s amusement.” — Do you want my loyalty? My ruthlessness? — he thought, but his face remained calm. — — You will have it, Lord Megatron… — Turning again to the prisoner, Night drew his sword and, swinging, sliced the bot diagonally so that the strike hit its spark, which immediately went out. Screams of horror came from the other prisoners, but Nightfly's blue optics were cold and impassive. The same fate awaited all other useless neutrals. Starscream heard the screams somewhere behind, and if any of the recruits turned around, he did not, fully understanding what was happening. The triad, a few soldiers, and of course the prisoner recruits moved out to the landing pad. Bright beams of the sun, breaking through the smog and war’s ash, blinded optics accustomed to the darkness of corridors, and when their vision adjusted, a massive military ship appeared before them. It was made of dark metal, with various protrusions and glowing elements. The bots, who had never seen such machines up close, lifted their heads with wide-open optics and mouths agape. — Woahhhhh… — one of the newcomers drew out — Shines… Starscream heard their astonishment and admiration; he glanced at the newcomers’ expressions over his shoulder and smirked. Turning on his heels toward them, the commander cleared his throat into his fist, drawing attention. — So, recruits, before you is the flagship Decepticon warship — Nemesis. You will be transported there via lift, so do not scatter and do not touch anything if you don’t want your hands torn off. We will meet you there. — After these words, Starscream lightly jumped into the air, transformed, and flew onto the ship, leaving only a whitish trail from his wings that dissipated after a few seconds. Thunder and Warp followed their leader, not uttering a single word.The recruits were locked in one of the compartments as soon as they were transported onto the ship, and they could feel Nemesis moving, then seeming to freeze. The flight was so smooth that it was impossible to tell whether they had stopped or were still flying. The compartment had no windows, no cracks through which the changing light or the ship’s movement across the planet could be seen — how much time had passed? For all the prisoner-recruits, it seemed to stand still. Sitting in the locked compartment and handcuffed, his limbs aching, the wheelbot glanced guiltily at his disgruntled friend. The big bot, frowning, slowly inspected the room, walking around and lost in thought, while the others paid him no attention, thinking of their own fate. — M…Breakdown, are you okay? — finally asked the bot, approaching his old acquaintance. — Okay?! Are you joking?! We’re Decepticons now! — the other growled, turning to the sports car. He was very angry, but there was nowhere to go; the medic even had to shush him to quiet his outburst. Who knows who might be listening… — You talk like it’s a bad thing — the bot snorted and rolled his optics. — Knockout, I’m not even a medic — whispered the gray-blue wheelbot, plaintively. He didn’t like the deception and couldn’t understand why his friend had lied so brazenly to Megatron himself! — I’m just a builder. And even that, former. — Do you think they’d have considered a builder useful? — the medic hissed irritably. — Wake up already, I saved your life! — Ugh, I understand, but you haven’t even finished your training, you’re not a real repairbot — very quietly, so only Knockout could hear, his friend continued. He just wouldn’t shut up! The other newcomers even raised their optics slightly, silently “warming their ears.” — I am a real repairbot! — the young bot protested, then exhaled and tried to calm his irritation. — Grrr…Breakdown, if we don’t know something, we’ll learn along the way. Want to live — learn to adapt! The doctor himself didn’t know why he was so confident he could outsmart the Decepticons and even himself. He might not have finished his training, but he was already clever in repair, very cunning and inventive. He was ready to spend cyberweeks continuously studying medicine and the art of combat just to save his bumper. A firm confidence pulsed in his spark that everything would work out, because otherwise it simply couldn’t! There was nothing left to do. Knockout had already decided everything for the two of them, and Breakdown could only resign himself. After an unknown amount of time for the newcomers, the door to their compartment opened and they were led out. Knockout even breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought he’d be stuck there forever. Stepping out onto the landing strip, the doctor surveyed the sky, which immediately caught his eye with its bloody-red sunset glow. Neither Knockout nor, especially, his not-so-bright friend had ever been to other cities, and here… wow. They were led into a building, and once again found themselves in a compartment. Unlike the first one, here there were sleeping platforms and a shelf with energon. Sparse, but something is better than nothing. What else could you expect from a barracks? Another big plus: their handcuffs were finally removed. Knockout began to stretch his body with a scowl, which had grown weary from being shackled. Approaching the shelf, he acted as if at home, grabbed some energon, and sat on the first available platform. Sipping energy, the sports car stared at the wall, while the other newcomers tried to start a conversation with Breakdown, who, unlike his friend, was more inclined to talk, though still a bit simple-minded. Sitting alone, the doctor pondered what would come next. In battle he was terrible, but in everyday life he was quite dexterous and quick. What awaited them was unknown; they could only hope that Starscream would be a good teacher… After a few cycles, soldiers stormed into their barracks and led them to a relatively empty, spacious area — the pit of Kaon. This was the very arena where Megatron had fought as a gladiator, where he had gained fame, popularity, and… a certain influence over the sparks of his fans. For all Decepticons, this was a landmark place, so rookie training usually happened here. But since the war had been going on for so long, there were hardly any newcomers left. Starscream remembered how Megatron had thrown him into this arena, into the cage with a dangerous beast, and how the seeker had to fight to survive, protect his subordinates, and prove he was capable of something. Yes… the memories were vivid, as if it had happened yesterday, though in reality several dozen warcycles had passed, and in our terms, millennia. Life cycles… how incredibly different they are. The rookies spread out across the arena. Some had heard of this place, some were seeing it for the first time. There weren’t many of them — only eight, two of whom were wheelbots. Starscream approached later, without his brothers — most likely, they had other assignments. The Decepticon had been talking to his leader via video link, reporting on some completed task. The mech seemed intent on demonstrating his importance by appearing now, rather than after the call ended. All the rookies stared at the silver seeker, clustering together. When the call ended, Skreem glanced at the gathered bots with annoyance and disgust. Damn it, what the hell am I even doing here instead of doing something really important… — Show your weapons, quickly — no greetings, no pleasantries. Just like that. And do they even have weapons? As it turned out, yes. Some had blasters illegally installed in peacetime, while Breakdown had only a hammer. Knockout didn’t have any ranged weapons either — just a drill and a circular saw. Starscream wasn’t surprised; after all, this wheelbot was a medic. He walked along the row of rookies, inspecting their armaments closely. With the seekers, everything was clear, but with these antisocial, clearly out-of-place mechs, not so much. — You, red one, give me your name — Starscream put his hands behind his back and leaned toward the wheelbot, looking into his optics with little enthusiasm. — Knockout — the mech replied, keeping his optics on the seeker’s, not looking away. There was not so much fear in his optics as there was childlike curiosity… — You don’t have blasters, right? — the officer continued — That’s fine, minor detail. You’ll install some later. For now… even the tools you have can be used as weapons, but your partner will need to be armed. Attach a rocket launcher or blaster to him after training, we’ll see how it goes. Shifting his gaze to the big bot, Starscream straightened his chest — no need to lean down now. — And you, I see, mostly rely on brute strength. Not bad… Name yourself. — Breakdown — he answered, allowing himself to be examined. The physical capabilities of the rookies were roughly clear from their appearance. Knockout was clearly not a warrior, just a medic, but due to his size, he was likely very fast and agile compared to the others. His attention skills were developed, evident in his optics. Close combat might suit him better, or otherwise, he could escape quickly. His speed was a good quality for a medic, helping him extract the wounded from the battlefield or participate in minor field operations. This was how Starscream assessed everyone present. The rookies didn’t understand why the officer was scrutinizing them so carefully, but it was necessary to assign each a proper role. After all, Skreem was not used to doing his work half-assed. — Knockout, come here — Starscream stepped slightly away from the formation and gestured for the doctor to approach. — Since you’re our repairbot, you’ll first observe, and if anyone needs assistance during this training, you’ll provide it. Understood? Good. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.When the doctor stepped aside, the seeker returned to the line of rookies and straightened, proudly spreading his wings. — SO! Heap of metal scrap, listen carefully! — he began. — Those of you who haven’t met me yet, I’ll say it once: my name is Starscream, senior officer of Lord Megatron! For now, I am your mentor, and I will neither pity you nor tolerate any breach of discipline! The battlefield is not a beach! It is a dance between bullets and blades, a dance with death itself! Either you go to Primus, or you send your enemy there! This is not a place for mercy, this is not a place for chatter! Killing Autobots is your primary objective! Our leader, Megatron, leads us to victory, to equality among all classes, to equality across the entire planet! And the Autobots, led by Prime, appointed by the council, were AGAINST our equality and INTERFERE WITH US! They hinder the restoration of order and balance! Who knows, perhaps victory in this war will depend on you, on your skills. Therefore, you must not only survive, you are OBLIGED to accomplish the mission AT ANY COST! Otherwise, I will personally rip out your sparks and make you eat them! Quite a speech… Everyone remained silent, afraid to utter a word. And Starscream could have continued, but noticed a couple of Vehicons dragging his “order” to him — a blue-eyed bot, crawling along the floor at the edge of death. They dragged him to Starscream, forcing him to kneel. The mech was exhausted; he lifted his flickering optics to the rookies, then lowered his head, realizing peace would soon come. The officer approached the prisoner and grasped his helmet, lifting his head again. Now the anatomy lesson would begin… — So, the most vulnerable points are here — he said, pointing to the neck, then the abdomen and legs. — Also, almost everyone has weak armor on the back, and the strongest on the chest. To bring down a stronger enemy, aim for the legs, the head, or the abdomen. However, if you see that the armor is weaker than your weapon’s power, or the enemy is in alt mode — which, by the way, is one of the weakest forms for all of us — you may aim directly for the spark. Destroying the processor, spark, or reactor for energon recycling is instant death. Additionally, severing wires in the neck, back, or abdomen will deactivate them due to energy loss. But if you inflict a severe wound on a limb, don’t rely on luck; a headshot is still crucial. Every professional warrior should have both close- and long-range weapons. I’ll demonstrate on myself — I have three options. Starscream stood behind the Autobot and displayed his hands to the rest. — Claws — he said, running them over the prisoner’s armor. The bot howled, and energon trickled from the wound. But this was not enough to kill him. — Blasters — Starscream transformed his hand and fired at the back; the bot fell but still wheezed. Still alive! — And… missiles, one of my most powerful weapons. Starscream stepped back, aimed, bent his index finger, and launched. A loud explosion followed, blowing apart the Autobot’s back and insides, scattering them far from the body. Starscream presented the spectacle to everyone — not for the faint-hearted. Some watched in horror, some in awe, some with disgust, like Breakdown. The medic, long accustomed to spilled energon, was not frightened, but rather impressed. He marveled at Starscream’s power and how the bot was torn apart. He was curious about the limits of a chassis, how else one could disable a bot, and how to preserve life despite the inflicted wounds. — Almost all of you will have claws, the medic will see to that. After all, this is one of the best close-combat weapons. Everyone should have them. Though… Breakdown can do without them, he has a hammer. Questions? After such a display of Autobot innards, no one dared to ask anything. Everyone feared the seeker for obvious reasons.Glancing over everyone, Starscream waved his hand, and several dead Autobot bodies were placed on the battlefield. Why bother making targets when you have their bodies? Indeed. — Test your shooting on these. Afterwards, you’ll demonstrate your close-combat skills against each other. I need to see your level in practice. Knockout, come with me. — Giving everyone instructions, Starscream turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at the rookies. — After training, you’ll all take an exam, and then be deployed. Anyone who tries to escape, I’ll personally tear their spark out for desertion. Satisfied that everyone understood, Starscream headed with the medic to the edge of the pit, where a rack of weapons stood—those that aren’t integrated into bodies but carried externally. And a small crate. So many tools designed just to maim someone. — Completely unprotected, you’re an easy target. I’ll give you the most suitable weapons later. For now, familiarize yourself with this, — Starscream pointed to the crate, which was actually a med-kit. — …then come to me, and we’ll train your reaction and speed. You won’t withstand direct fire; your armor is weak. Your tactic will be simple: sudden strike from behind or the side, holding the bot, or retreating. Never charge head-on unless you’re sure you’re stronger than the enemy. Got it? Excellent. After the monologue, Starscream strode toward the mass of rookies, observing them, pointing out mistakes, and instructing how to strike properly. With one, Breakdown, things went best: he just barreled through like a tank, knocking everyone aside. Starscream paid special attention to Knockout. There was an obvious reason for that. Among all the rookies, Knockout was the smallest and weakest. If the others were fliers aiming to become warriors with some knowledge already, this bot had zero combat skill. For some reason, Starscream felt a strong responsibility toward him, a firm conviction that he had to train this bot well because this medic could be useful to him. Normally, Starscream doesn’t heed such instincts, but this time he decided to trust it. Watching the instructor, Knockout began examining the med-kit: a standard set of first-aid patches, a soldering tool, various painkillers, and other supplies. Small packets of energon and batteries were included. Everything needed for first aid. For serious injuries like a severed limb, treatment would require the repair platform in the med-bay, where Knockout hadn’t been yet. Judging by his tools, he was mostly a surgeon. His saw and drill could pierce almost any armor with little effort, so this weapon should not be underestimated. Finished with the med-kit, the sports car bot approached his mentor and also looked at Breakdown. Judging by Knockout’s astonished face, he hadn’t even known his friend was capable of such feats. Likely, the so-called “medic” should be classified as a warrior. Still, he would be a decent bodyguard for the poorly protected and weak repairman. Before the war, Breakdown mainly worked demolishing old buildings, laying foundations, and other labor requiring brute strength. Perhaps that’s why he was such a hulking bot. Most likely, he was assembled, not born. Starscream would need to gather data on all of them. Though… Soundwave would handle that better; Starscream just had to request it. For a while, the officer just observed, and he disliked that the rookies felt pity for each other, hesitated, and didn’t even try to harm one another. What kind of fight is this? A massage. Growling in annoyance, Starscream sharply turned to Knockout and scratched his chest with his claws. Not deep, just barely scratching the paint. — Defend yourself! — He growled, striking again with his claws, again and again, advancing and forcing the medic backward. He was curious which tactic he would choose, how he would use his skills, how he would behave in general. It was clear Starscream had no intention of killing him—though no, it wasn’t obvious, the strikes were precise enough to aim at the spark. Starscream wanted to test Knockout’s reaction and overall readiness for extreme surprises. The young doctor knew very little about Starscream and Decepticons in general, so he didn’t expect such a setup. Shrieking, he stepped back, processing what had just happened and staring at the scratch.Closing the plates on his arms, Knockout kept retreating again and again, quietly hissing with each blow and trying to figure out what to do. Charging head-on was impossible—the opponent was stronger. Dodging another strike, he jumped to the side and then lunged forward, slipping past Starscream. With his saw, he managed to scratch the enemy’s arm slightly. Behind the opponent, Knockout still had no plan other than to try stepping back without turning his back. — Khah! — Starscream let out a small cry from the saw strike; that actually hurt! Then he turned to the medic, suddenly smiling. — Excellent, you’re not hopeless! Starscream activated his blaster and, without charging it, fired at Knockout. He approached slowly, then lunged forward, dodging a saw strike and kicking the medic in the stomach, eliciting a painful cry and even a small stream of energon at his lips. Knockout might have seemed large, at least not as skinny as Starscream, but he was very light, so his body flew several meters and hit the arena surface. He slid across the metal floor for several meters, sparks flying and paint scraping. Transforming into a fighter jet, the officer quickly flew at him, attacking across the ground with blasters, the shots of which would hit if Knockout didn’t move. Gasping, the doctor looked at his opponent and immediately stiffened, his red optics widening. — WHAT THE F… IS HE DOING?! — he screamed inside his head, feeling tension rise and the survival program kicking in. Transforming into a four-wheeled Cybertronian vehicle, he sped off, wheels kicking up clouds of dust. Knockout was just running from Starscream. From the outside, it might have looked funny, but he certainly wasn’t enjoying it… Starscream, however, laughed. He easily caught up to and overtook Knockout, then transformed mid-air, did a small flip, and landed right in front of the little vehicle. Starscream planted his foot on the hood, blocking forward or backward movement. That was the first time Knockout realized trying to outrun a fighter jet was a bad idea. You can’t escape everyone that easily. When the mech transformed, Starscream’s foot was still pressing against him. Lying under someone else’s servo, Knockout groaned tiredly, disappointed in his own strength. Still, he’d done everything he could. Someone else in his place might not even have tried to fight. — Not bad for a novice. — the fighter commented, stepping away. Then Starscream extended his hand. Looking up at the others at the same time, he growled low and angrily. — What are you staring at?! Get to work before you end up in the medic’s place! — Then he looked back at Knockout and helped him to his feet. — Trust no one, ever. Not even someone with their back to you. Any guarantees from any Decepticon mean nothing. Keep that in mind. Forewarned is forearmed. Starscream spoke calmly, as if he hadn’t just been hitting him and “trying to kill” him. — Now… — Starscream assumed a defensive stance. — Attack. Nodding at the order, the doctor quickly accepted that the torture wasn’t over yet. He tried to strike his mentor, but the medic wasn’t physically strong. Starscream easily parried his attacks without striking himself. He constantly blocked with his hands, dodged, or leapt back. In this way, he was demonstrating the options for retreat in hand-to-hand combat. — When you fight, don’t forget where your opponent’s weak spots are and use them. Some have special vulnerable areas. Particularly for Autobots, painful spots will often be on the back—wings, doors, or, if wheels, ripping them off will prevent the Autobot from fleeing. Then he’s doomed. Starscream suddenly grabbed Knockout’s hands at the wrists, pulling the bot close and leaning toward him. Damn… The mentor was too close! The doctor even felt a bit embarrassed… Still, unlike the medic, the officer didn’t care about their positions and continued the lesson. — Wait, you’re striking wrong, completely wrong. And your stance is incorrect… Nggh… Have you never even done the simplest fight? — Exhaling, Starscream released the bot’s hands and looked at everyone. — All of you, come here, quickly! — he commanded. When they gathered, he placed Knockout in front of him in a disciplined stance. — Legs together during combat are a sure sign of inexperience. They play a crucial role, as your servos must hold your body steady so the first hit doesn’t knock you over. Here. Watch.Starscream didn’t hit the bot hard, so Knockout fell immediately. — Get up. — He continued in a commanding tone. — Now, place your feet shoulder-width apart, one slightly back, the other forward. Rock a little on the spot. More stable, right? Starscream struck again; this time Knockout didn’t fall—he held his ground. — There. With your feet in this position, you can easily dodge an attack. For example, a sharp pivot. — The seeker spun abruptly on one foot, pushing off with the other, and was already in a different spot in the blink of an eye. — Also, when leaning back or forward while dodging, this stance will keep you balanced. That goes for all of you. Suddenly, one of the rookies laughed, drawing the seeker’s attention. — What’s so funny, rookie? — the officer growled, narrowing his optics and looking at him with disdain. — I doubt we need this, Commander Starscream. Our servos aren’t so fragile that they can’t hold us. Ahahaha. The mech was implying the mentor’s physique. Indeed, the fighter jet was much skinnier and smaller than all of them. Starscream frowned, his wings slowly lowering—but not completely, just halfway, forming a straight line parallel to the ground. The two smaller wings remained immobile. It seemed he was getting very angry… Seeing the commander’s mood, the medic tensed and tried to ease the situation. — Sorry… umm… what about the positioning of the manipulators? — He sounded almost like a peaceful Autobot, unwilling to cause conflict. But in truth, Knockout just didn’t want extra work; if this joker got hurt, the repairman would have to treat him, creating yet another problem and another chance to mess up. — Bring the medkit, Knockout… — Starscream said sharply and clearly. He then began moving quickly toward the joker. The rookie’s smile vanished quickly, but confident in himself, he rolled his optics haughtily and assumed a fighting stance. — I’m not comfortable fighting someone like you, boss, but if you insist… Starscream said nothing. He silently dodged an attack and struck the mech in the stomach with a sharp knee. The bot screamed, energon leaking as Starscream pierced his armor. Knockout now clearly understood that the seeker had been going easy on him, barely using any force. After all, Starscream was capable of delivering a strike that could damage armor far more than a mere scratch on the plating. After the knee strike, the officer hit the bot in the face with a characteristic sound, then grabbed him by the back and slammed him into his own knee, this time hitting the eye and knocking it out. Luckily, the processor wasn’t hit; otherwise, the rookie would have gone down on the spot. Throwing him to the arena floor, Starscream aimed a missile from his other arm. He probably would have fired if not for a whistle somewhere behind. — HIT HIM! SMASH HIM! — Warp shouted enthusiastically from the arena’s observation platform. — Thunder, bring energon, this is gonna be fun!!! In response, the second seeker standing next to his brother just rolled his optics; he clearly wasn’t going anywhere. But his brother’s shouting sobered Starscream, and instead of firing, he simply waved his hand away. Starscream turned to the seekers and put his hands on his hips. — You ruin all the momentum! — he shouted back. — Ugh, fine, today’s training is over. Knockout, patch up this underachiever. You’re dismissed! Following the order, he transformed and flew off to his triad, while the doctor sighed wearily, realizing he now had no room for error.