Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Columns of smoke drifted with the wind across the soot-stained sand; dull fires burned everywhere, and a thick grey storm choked the sky. The city of Jasper had been razed to the ground; once-bustling streets were empty, the local high school was pockmarked with laser blasts, the courthouse pillars lay in ruins among the cobbles.

In the east, a great, twisted tower loomed over the land and blocked out the rising sun. The tower had only been there a short time. It was the astounding result of a grand beam of light which had pierced the clouds and struck the earth not twenty-four hours ago, a beam which the residents who looked to the skies could only describe as apocalyptic.

When the beam had dissipated, there the tower stood, rearing its head over the flat-topped buttes like a vulture gazing down upon crippled mice.

In the highest room of that spired tower was a throne. And upon that heavy throne sat the new ruler of Jasper.

He had conquered countless cities in his time, prevailed over principalities which had long ago been forgotten, and finally, after all these years of searching, he had pinned down and seized the tiny town that had harbored his mortal enemies.

As added salt in their wound, he had erected his fortress within eyesight of their hidden base, then promptly strafed and destroyed that pathetic stack of rocks with the fire of hell.

But to his chagrin, the bodies of his foes had not been found in the wreckage, and after the carnage of his invasion was over, he had instructed the people of Earth to “take him to their leader,” for lack of a better summary.

Now the ruler of Jasper was on the phone, exchanging the usual banter and pleasantries of wartime negotiation with some lesser being.

Soundwave had discreetly informed him that this lesser being seemed to be of some importance. Apparently, this human had been privy to the Autobot's affairs since the beginning of their residence on Earth, and had even been captured by Starscream on occasion, due to the sheer amount of intel he possessed.

It would be difficult to deceive a flesh creature who had seen so much of their conflict, but then again, Megatron reminded himself, it was only a flesh creature, after all.

“A new power dominates your world,” he informed the liasion. “Any further attempts to attack me will be met with even greater force.”

He made a loose gesture with his hand, an old force of habit from his oratorial days. “Your leaders should be advised that my fusion cannons possess enough firepower to decimate any densely populated area of my choosing. I would in all likelihood set sight on your nation’s capital, for starters.”

Of course, the human on the other end could not see the warlord's mannerisms, but his good-natured threats had the intended effect.

“Point taken,” the caller growled. “Now what do you want from us?”

“Nothing, Agent Fowler,” Megatron replied, as though he were aggrieved by the question. “Why, the Decepticons mean no harm to humanity. We merely desire a place to call home!”

“No offense, Megatron,” said the dirt clod, “But I’m having a tough time swallowing all this, since you seem so bent on plastering humankind under molten steel!”

“Agent Fowler,” Megatron placed a hand over his heart. "I admit, war brings out the worst in me, but the conflict with the Autobots is now over, and our quarrel has never been with your kind. Now that the one true enemy of the Decepticons is no more, my only wish is to coexist on this planet with the human race … peacefully."

The human seemed to have no rebuttal for this, and Megatron smiled with all the gentle graces of a shark. Another old habit. If you wanted to sound pleasant, look pleasant.

"Together, Agent Fowler,” he lilted, “I believe that you and I can make that dream a reality."

Ending the call, he rose from his throne, locking the blaster into place on his arm. It was still slightly sore from the surgery, but he was getting used to the old balance once more.

Starscream dutifully applauded.

“You do have a way with words, master,” he cajoled. “I almost believed you myself.”

“Earth is our planet now, Starscream,” Megatron declared, striding to the edge of the throne room, where he could look over the edge of the platform at the landscape below. “And we shall finish what we started. Humankind has no idea what lies ahead for them.”

He turned to Starscream with a piercing eye. “And speaking of humankind, how goes the search for the Autobot’s weakest links?”

“The troops are actively scanning each highway and interstate road in the nation as we speak,” Starscream reported proudly. “And I am sure you know how tirelessly Soundwave has been monitoring their communication feeds.”

“Yes.” Megatron’s sharp gaze swept the town, and his fingers rubbed against one another as though he intended to reach down and pluck the Autobots from the burning city like so many ants. “One wrong step, and we will have them in our grasp.”

Starscream tapped his narrow chin with one curved talon as he contemplated the world at their feet.

“I am quite surprised that we were not able to get our hands on the only instance of half-humankind which would have served us best,” he remarked at length.

“Yes,” Megatron hummed. “During your absence, Soundwave was able to locate the permanent residence of only three humans. The fourth, well…” he shrugged. “It seems that ever since her temporary stay aboard our vessel, Optimus has kept her close to himself, and himself well hidden.”

He folded his hands behind his back, his brooding gaze turning grim. “I would give a great deal to know what motivates him to guard that creature so fiercely; even enough to bring her to Cybertron.”

A slow smirk slid up the side of Starscream’s face.

“And what if someone could supply that information?” he wheedled. “Someone who had his eyes and ears open during said … absence?”

Megatron raised an eyebrow. “I am listening, Starscream. Do try and get to the point.”

“Well, it is quite revolting,” Starscream chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “But through great cunning and wit, I was able to divulge a great secret from the Prime and his dear little friend. You see, I realized by studying their interactions that he has become binary bonded to the vermin!”

Megatron’s face contorted briefly.

“Bonded?” He spat out at last. “With an organic?”

“Spark-to-spark,” Starscream insisted. “I recognized the signs easily due to my own … ah, unfortunate experience.”

“I did not know such a thing was possible,” murmured Megatron.

He pondered this news for a moment, his eyes narrowing under heavy brows. Then his shoulders began to shake, and he lifted his face in a rasping, gleeful laugh.

“How absurd!” He roared. “Ah, and how fitting. Prime’s greatest weakness walks the earth in human form.”

He chuckled again, with a slow shake of his head. “How very … perfect.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Consciousness arrived with the gentleness of falling snow. At first, she grasped only the faint awareness of being cold, then realized with a growing unease that she was also uncomfortably damp. A distant noise drew her a little further out of the clinging abyss.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

She began to lift her head, but a deep and flaring pain brought the reminder that she had more important things to think about. Her face twitched, and the thin trails of blood drying beneath her nose crackled at the movement.

Tap.

Where … am I?

Tap.

She opened her eyes, then wondered if she really had; the pitch-blackness remained exactly the same.

Tap.

She blinked, and blinked again, attempting to dispel the darkness in vain. Eyes open or closed, it made no difference.

Am I dead?

Tap.

Am I?

Something jagged and rough was digging a bruise into the flesh at the base of her ribs, and her whole body had been arranged in a crooked sort of twist, as if someone had carelessly dropped a doll among their other scattered toys. She thought about trying to rise, but the throbbing pain had turned her bones to lead.

It … hurts.

Tap.

Her thin clothes clung to the sweat on her clammy skin, and the shallow breath that trickled through her parted lips was barely enough to raise her chest.

Tap.

I’m cold. I’m breathing.

Tap.

I’m not dead.

She could not shake the feeling that she was in a very vast place indeed, though she did not have any idea why, and felt very small as she lay in the dark.

Tap.

As she lay waiting for something to happen, the thought came to her that she desperately wanted to sleep, to close her eyes and drift away, and she instantly forgot every other goal. No one would notice her, tucked away in the darkness, and even if they did, she didn’t care. She was too tired to be afraid anymore.

Tap.

Surely she could allow herself a nap, a tiny snooze. If she slept, she reasoned, she could forget the pain for a little while. Maybe she could even manage to die.

Finding this notion acceptable, she began to doze off, but just as her mind began to show her the idea of colors again, she was prodded awake by that irritating tapping in the distance.

Tap.

Rousing herself, she turned her head to seek the source, and spikes of pain shot through her neck. She could die peacefully if it weren’t for that stupid noise.

What is it?

Tap.

Tap.

The darkness was becoming frustrating. Her mind gathered itself. Her heart picked up its pace. Flurries of questions swirled among her scattered thoughts.

Where am I? What happened? Why does it hurt?

Tap.

She took a breath and held it. Despite her body’s screams of protest, despite the muscles that begged her to stop moving, she slid her arm up until she found what was pressing so painfully against her ribs — a rock.

Then, three distinct realizations came to her at once.

One, she was lying in a cave, and that echoing tap was the distant sound of dripping water.

Two, her armor had been completely stripped away, leaving her in nothing but her surplus army clothes for the first time in many weeks.

Three, she was not alone.

She knew this because a faint blue glow had caught her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder to stare directly into a pair of glowing blue eyes.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Knock Out approached the throne with the tinge of a smile on his porcelain face, and he knelt on the shining metal tiles with a princely bow; he had always been one of the few Decepticons who knew proper decorum, and he flaunted it frequently among the more civilized members of the army. Pretty privilege was hard to maintain, but well worth the having.

“How may I serve you, Lord Megatron?”

“Knock Out,” Megatron nodded demurely, raising his right hand. “I trust repair of the troops is going as smoothly as my own did.”

“As ever, my liege,” Knock Out grinned. “And how is the arm?”

“Well enough.” The warlord smiled to himself as he sat on the throne. “I summoned you here because new information has come to light; information we may be able to use to our advantage.”

“Do tell,” purred the medic. He loved gossip; the juicier, the better.

“Starscream’s intel suggests that Optimus Prime may have recently formed a binary bond with the half-spark—“

“Ugh!” Knock Out shrieked, then scrambled to recover. “I m-mean, how interesting.”

“Yes,” Megatron said, curling a lip at the medic’s sudden lack of composure. “Remind me of the nature of such a relationship. What sort of implications might be … expected?”

“Um. Well, as you know, a binary bond is usually found between close familial ties, such as twins or template clones,” shrugged the medic. “It usually allows the linked individuals to share physical or emotional pain in order to mutually offset the strain of any overwhelming stimulus.”

He paused briefly. “I have never heard of a binary bond being formed between a Cybertronian and a …” the shudder that seized him nearly cut off his voice. “An organic. But I suppose that since she maintains some kind of Spark in that... grotesque little body, it is well within the realm of possibility.”

“Starscream once sent template clones to assassinate me, during his absence,” Megatron remarked distantly, as though recalling a fond memory.

“Yes, my liege.”

“I killed every last one of them.”

“You did, sir.”

“You seem to know a great deal about it. Has Starscream recounted this tale?”

“In great detail,” Knock Out grimaced. Hearing Starscream rant about the injustices wreaked upon his flightless body every time a clone failed to survive Megatron’s wrath had taken up a good hour of his prep work, which he was accustomed to spending comfortably by himself.

“He was quite irked about being on the receiving end of your wrath,” Knock Out said aloud. “Five times over.”

Megatron smiled, whether because some new idea of his had been born, or because he enjoyed the memory of killing five Starscreams in a row, Knock Out could not tell. You never could tell with the psychos he worked for.

“So if any harm were to befall one of the members of such a bond,” clarified the warlord. “The other would experience something similarly...” he tapped a cruel finger on the arm of the throne. “Painful.”

“Yes, my liege,” Knock Out said.

“Very good,” Megatron leaned back in his throne. “Assemble a team and embark for Cybertron immediately. While hunting Autobots remains paramount, we must not squander the opportunity to reclaim any Iacon relics left behind in the chaos.”

He clenched his fist, looking out at the storm brewing on the horizon. “For all we know, Optimus Prime is out there somewhere, planning to do the same.”

Knock Out bowed once more, still trying to get the taste of the news out of his mouth as he got back in the elevator and headed for the launch pad.

“Disgusting,” he muttered to himself. “I can’t even — ugh.”

Once the medic had departed, Megatron pressed a button on the arm of his throne, patching in to the communications hub on the warship.

“Soundwave,” he commed. “Redouble all efforts. No one ceases operation until the half-spark is captured alive.”

Soundwave’s communicator beeped in acknowledgement, and Megatron knew his word would be carried out. He lifted his chin and steepled his sharpened fingers, smiling a little to himself.

“Once I have her, Prime,” he murmured. “Then I will draw you out.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“Don’t you move,” a voice warned.

She choked out a groan, trying to scramble away, but the eyes rose, and a metal hand descended to brace her with startling speed. She raised a hand, crying out, but the voice continued.

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” it soothed. “It’s me, Smokescreen.”

She just stared at the eyes, panting.

“I’m taking care of you guys,” he explained. “We’re under the base.”

Nova huffed. “We…“

“Yeah, we,” the eyes nodded. “You and me, and-”

A low groan interrupted the boy, and the surge of relief that shot through Nova at the sound of that voice was enough to make her dizzy.

She choked out an involuntary noise, tears stinging her eyes.

“He’s waking up. Do you wanna see him?” Smokescreen asked. He switched on his bio lights, and the flood sent Nova’s eyes retreating behind their lids.

“C’mere,” his voice beckoned as he gently pushed her into his palm. But even the softest nudge sent spasms of fire racing through Nova’s body, and despite herself she let out a sob.

“Ooh! Sorry,” he hissed.

Nova’s cheek pressed into Smokescreen’s fingers as he raised her up — too fast, she noted — and when she opened her eyes again, there he was.

She had seen Optimus undergo what she thought must have been the lowest points in his life, but one look at the lacerated heap of metal sprawled among the rocks and she knew she was wrong. She also knew why everything hurt so badly. He looked like he had dared to tread upon the surface of a star.

The only indication that this pile of scrap still lived was the pale glow of his eyes, which turned to look at her.

She saw his chest rise with a surge of breath, and the feeble noise that escaped his mouth was akin to a soft cry. Smokescreen took this to be an indicator of pain.

“It’s okay, Optimus,” he assured him. “You’re with me, Smokescreen.”

But Optimus kept his eyes fixed on one thing.

“N-Nova…” he murmured.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Smokescreen replied. “I don’t know why she’s hurt so bad; I took care of her just like you asked. She’s actually kinda the reason we’re here.”

Nova’s arm dangled over the edge of Smokescreen’s palm, but she could not reach for Optimus, and he did not reach for her. Closing his eyes, Optimus collected himself for a great effort before he spoke again.

“H-How did … I get here?” he ground out.

Nova pricked up her ears. She sorely wanted to know the answer to that.

“We were evacuating the base, just as the Cons opened fire,” Smokescreen reminded him. “It was my turn to Groundbridge away. But when I reached Nova on the other side, she could feel something wrong on your end.”

Nova’s face pulled into a frown. She could sense nothing from the Prime, now; nothing but bodily pain.

Her mind, in its childlike naivety, kept reaching out for the security of Optimus’ soul, but came away empty every time. Where once a comforting fire had waited to welcome her, only a dark pit remained, and all she had was afterimages of his presence. Though Smokescreen now held her mere inches away from her guardian, it felt as though they were separated by leagues and fathoms.

“She told me we had to help you,” continued Smokescreen. “And I should have followed your orders, but I couldn’t do it. Nova was right; I couldn’t let you face Megatron’s army alone. So I snuck back.”

He paused for a second, remembering the moment he stepped foot in the burning wreckage he had called a home not more than a few hours before.

“But that’s when the blast hit,” he said grimly. “And the whole joint came tumbling down.”

But he lifted his face in a grin, trying to be cheerful for the wounded. “But I pulled you from the wreckage before the Cons dove in, using the Phase Shifter,” he lifted his arm to show Optimus with a sheepish grin. “Which I managed to snag in all the confusion back on Cybertron!”

Optimus made no reply, and Smokescreen’s face fell, thinking the Prime was disappointed in him.

“I’m … I’m sorry I defied your orders,” he offered softly.

But Optimus just sat there, trying to breathe.

Seized by another chill, Nova groaned, pushing her face into Smokescreen’s fingers to get his attention.

Smokescreen glanced down at her. “What’s wrong?”

She hated the way her own voice crawled out. “C-col-”

“You’re cold?” Smokescreen realized, noticing her trembling limbs and purple lips under the headlights. “Oh, man, I didn’t think about that. I don’t know how to-“

“Here,” Optimus breathed.

“What?”

“Put her …” he glanced downward, at his chest.

“Oh,” Smokescreen hesitated. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re probably not feeling up for it-“

“Here,” he insisted, closing his eyes from the strain.

Shrugging, Smokescreen lowered his cupped hands. He laid Nova on the Prime’s chest, and the heat her body craved hit her like a sunlit sidewalk on a blissful spring day. Immediately, she curled up on her side, wedging herself into the crevice closest to his Spark. The soothing hum of his core filled her ears once more, but it was slower now, and not as strong as she remembered it.

It was only when his warmth had begun to dry her tears did she realize how much she had been crying. She breathed a long, long sigh as her eyelids grew heavy once more, and she stared into the darkness with the drowsy conviction that everything was going to be all right.

“We’re safe here,” Smokescreen assured them, glancing up at the cave walls. “But we’re down so deep no one can get our signals. I’m gonna have to scout above ground if we’re gonna have any hope of finding Ratchet—”

“No…” Optimus whispered, eyes shut. “No hope.”

Nova’s eyes shot open. Her heart sank like a rock. Never, never had she heard him say those words before.

No hope? What?

But she did not sense his customary steady voice in her head, and she suddenly remembered that she could not. Not like she had. Not anymore.

“What do you mean?” Smokescreen asked. “The Doc’s the only one who can get you patched up.”

Their leader’s silence was not just from weariness, and Nova began to guess the horrible truth behind his hesitation.

Optimus Prime was giving up.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

In the warship’s dimly lit communications room, Soundwave stooped over the little table as he assessed the damage done to his faithful reconnaissance drone. The little bird-like bot lay motionless on the diagnostic table, sleek frame marred by scorch marks and dents. Wires and circuits were exposed, evidence of the fierce battle he had endured to bring back crucial intelligence.

Arcee and her human had been within their grasp, but the filthy rebels had used a combustible gas station to their advantage, and the whole affair had yielded only the corpses of two Vehicons and a near-dead Laserbeak, which were of no use to anyone.

Megatron paced impatiently behind Soundwave, his crimson optics narrowed in frustration.

“Well?” he demanded. “Did any of the surveillance data survive?”

Soundwave did not even spare them a shrug. He continued his work in silence, repairing Laserbeak with the singular focus Megatron had come to recognize as the only sign of worry his communications officer would ever show. Tools whirred and sparks flew as he replaced damaged components, his focus unwavering.

“A shame,” Starscream sighed. “We might have at least learned the direction in which Arcee and the human fled.”

Soundwave's visor flickered as he accessed Laserbeak's memory core, his nimble digits working swiftly but with deliberate precision. The drone's internal systems were badly damaged, its memory banks corrupted by the intensity of the battle. But still he said nothing, his attitude so detached it bordered on stoicism.

“Clearly we need to improve our methods of hunting Autobots,” Megatron mused. “And build upon the tactical advantage we have secured.”

The comms clicked on a second later.

“Lord Megatron, I am ready to return to Darkmount,” reported Knock Out. “And you’ll want to see what I’ve uncovered.”

From the sound of things, the medic was very pleased with himself, and unlike Starscream he knew better than to inflate the fruits of his own victories. Whatever he had found was important.

“Soundwave, open a Spacebridge portal,” Megatron directed.

Obedient as ever, Soundwave immediately paused his work and pulled up the medic’s location on his visor screen. Another moment, and the impossible was done: an intricate portal spanning the length of many galaxies had blossomed within Megatron’s reach.

Knock Out stepped through the Groundbridge with a smile on his face, and nothing in his hands. Megatron quirked an eyebrow, his patience wearing thin.

“I find myself in urgent need of good news,” he growled through his teeth. “So please, Knock Out, tell me that you found something useful.”

“Some things, my liege. And…” the medic stepped aside with a flourish. “Someone.”

The instant the outline of the figure materialized, Starscream recognized it, and he trembled.

“He … lives?” the Seeker gasped.

The hulking figure that stepped across the threshold towered over all but Megatron. His angular frame and armor plating gleamed a deadly violet beneath the ship’s dull lights. Every deliberate step he took exuded calculated precision and remorseless strength.

From the dark hole that served as his face, a single red eye gleamed. It never moved, but no one could brave a look at that eye without the sudden conviction that it saw everything, and that the calculating mind behind it would cut to the heart of any matter with the ruthless immediacy of a scalpel.

“Shockwave,” Megatron laughed. “Just the tactical advantage I need.”

Chapter Text

This’ll secure my position for a while yet. Knock Out folded his arms as he leaned against the wall. Haven’t seen the big M crack a smile that wide since he put Starscream on a gurney. Speaking of…

He swung his gaze to the right, where the Seeker in question was hard at work wringing the life out of his hands. 

Knock Out couldn't blame him for being surprised. The last time anyone had seen Shockwave, he had flung himself full throttle into an exploding Spacebridge to straighten out two Autobots who had been meddling in his affairs. Due to Starscream’s rather insistent testimony, and Arcee’s continued good health on the Autobots’ side, most people had reasonably assumed that the mad scientist was long dead. And judging by the way his wings were fairly plastered against his spine, Starscream was not pleased about Shockwave’s miraculous return. 

In fact, he seemed deathly upset. 

Oho… Knock Out smirked. Drama! 

The faceless newcomer dutifully bent his head before the leader of the Decepticons, his single red eye expressionless as ever. 

“Lord Megatron.”

“Shockwave,” Megatron lilted, as though greeting an old friend. “This is quite an unexpected turn. I’d thought you’d perished on Cybertron.” He threw a vicious glance over his shoulder at Starscream, who nearly jumped out of his metal. 

“Ah, yes, yes,” The Seeker chuckled, finding no aid in Knock Out’s shrug or Soundwave’s cold stare. “As did we all!”    

“Reports of my demise were greatly …premature,” Shockwave intoned. “The Spacebridge I had constructed was sabotaged by two Autobots, who managed to escape my pursuit when the bridge detonated. I awoke in the rubble, blinded and marooned on a dead planet, with no means of communication.” 

Knock Out kept his eyes on Starscream. The Seeker’s wince was carving deeper lines onto his face with every monotone syllable the scientist dropped. Starscream looked two shades away from becoming the ghost Shockwave was supposed to be. 

“In time, I repaired my wounds and resumed my experiments,” Shockwave continued. “The solitude enabled me to make tremendous advances in my research.”

What has that old shut-in been up to all this time? Knock Out thought to himself. An empty planet with no bioethics laws is quite a sandbox for a guy like him.

“One day, my instruments detected a massive surge of unidentifiable energy,” explained the one-eyed monstrosity. “I traveled to investigate its origin at the edge of the Sea of Rust, where I encountered your salvage team and the wreckage of the Omega Lock. But this was not the search party I had anticipated so long ago.” His cold red gaze swung toward Starscream, “Leaving one unanswered question.”

The Seeker blanched as Megatron stepped aside, allowing Shockwave to advance, and for the first time a hint of emotion wormed its way out of Shockwave’s words. 

“Why was I left for scrap? Abandoned?” He leaned down, pinning Starscream beneath a gaze that seemed nearly enough to drive the Seeker out of his wits. “Why?”

Panic was not the word for what Screamer was going through. The last time his face had looked so utterly distraught, he had been subjected to a similar string of questions by Megatron in the abyssal confines of the Cortical Psychic Patch. He had the look of someone who knew his continued existence depended on building a razor-thin bridge between the truth and his own string of lies.

Despite the thrill of just desserts, Knock Out almost hoped Starscream pulled through on this one. Dealing with a Spark attack in the middle of the receiving deck floor was not on his bingo card for the day. 

But to his surprise, the Seeker actually gathered himself enough to speak. And once he had gotten the first word out, the rest was easy.

“Th-The explosion!” he yelped. “It collapsed the power core chamber. The last thing anyone witnessed was you charging into the Space Bridge portal. No one saw you come back out!”

A slight flick of Shockwave’s finials was the only indication that he had heard the Seeker. Starscream was forced to stare at his own warped reflection in the glassy red eye while Shockwave deliberated. 

“I find your reply to be… logical,” he said at last, withdrawing. 

Starscream let out his entire lung capacity in a shaky sigh. Satisfied that the squabble appeared to be over, Megatron folded his hands behind his back and turned to the door, a silent cue for everyone to follow. 

Good grief, ladies, Knock Out rolled his eyes. You could cut the tension with a razor blade. 

But once Starscream was no longer being held under the knife, he became desperate to repair his shattered dignity by bringing up his favorite fun fact.

“But you will be pleased to know that I avenged your seeming demise by personally terminating the Autobot Cliffjumper,” he chortled, as if he were the first Decepticon in history to kill an Autobot.  

“Careful, Starscream,” Knock Out sniped dryly. “You may dislocate a landing gear patting yourself on the back.” 

Ignoring him, the Seeker trotted on the heels of the other commanders as they headed for the door. Knock Out rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall. Here comes the brown-nosing.

Sure enough, the wheedling game was back on the instant Starscream opened his mouth. “Shockwave, as Megatron’s first lieutenant, allow me to welcome you back to the winning team!” 

Megatron stopped just short of the door, with a stern glance over his shoulder as the afterthought came to him. 

“And allow me to clarify the new chain of command,” he decreed. “While Starscream will remain in charge of military operations, Shockwave will be my first lieutenant in charge of all scientific endeavors.”

Starscream blanched again. “So, you are saying we shall each report directly to you?”

“Affirmative.” With a demure smile, Megatron turned away again. Starscream’s momentary cowardice in the face of not only his leader but also the all-seeing eye of Shockwave turned to sullenness once the attention had been withdrawn. His flattened wings slowly hiked upward as he knocked a clenched fist against his leg. 

“Completely logical, my liege,” he seethed. 

Yeesh. Knock Out raised an eyebrow. Glad I’m not him. 

Fortunately, Knock Out was well aware that his position as the ship’s only doctor was secure, and better yet, not a threat to anyone on the higher rungs of the totem pole. After all, medics didn’t run the show, so nobody cared to usurp them. 

But the position of first lieutenant was a highly coveted one in the army, and Starscream did not like to share. He had a competitor within his own circle now, just like he had with Dreadwing. 

And we all remember how that turned out, Knock Out shuddered. 

Starscream’s resumé wasn’t exactly stellar, and everyone on the warship knew it. If he had to go up against Decepticons as valuable and loyal as Dreadwing or Shockwave for Megatron’s approval, there was no sure guarantee that he would continue to be considered the best bot for the job. 

Knock Out still couldn’t quite figure out why Megatron had chosen to dispose of Dreadwing, and not the squirming worm currently chafing in third place. 

Who knows? he sighed, inspecting his nails with a cursory glance. His fingers had been chipping a lot lately— fragging Vehicons. I’d have time for proper hygiene if they’d stop blowing themselves up every five seconds. 

“We have been devoting all efforts to locating the Autobots,” Megatron explained to the newcomer. “They have disguised themselves as Earth based vehicles, so visual identification has been difficult. We do have Wheeljack in our custody, and Soundwave has been diligently monitoring human communication lines to locate their human partners, with little success.” 

“Would a planetary sweep for Spark signatures aid in the search?” Shockwave asked. 

“This planet’s abundant Energon deposits would interfere with our sensors,” Megatron denied. “I am afraid the only way to locate an Autobot in transit is for our troopers to engage them in battle.”

Soundwave’s chin dipped a little, and Knock Out remembered the gas station incident from yesterday. Laserbeak had almost died, and they had lost a couple of half-decent troopers to that meddling motorcycle and her flesh buddy. 

“Knock Out.”

The medic raised his head at Megatron’s summons. “Yes, my liege?”

“Have the relics retrieved from the site of our battle been transported to our vault?”

“Yes, my lord.” Knock Out kept his eyes on Megatron’s face, trying to ignore Shockwave’s silent scrutiny. Jeez. Even Soundwave isn’t this creepy. Holy slag. 

“And the Forge?” 

“In the vault with the rest,” the medic reported. “We’re pretty positive Dreadwing gave it to the Bots before he … erm. You know.” 

“Yes,” Megatron nodded. “That would explain Optimus’ possession of the Star Saber during our engagement on Cybertron.” 

He folded his hands behind his back with a nod to Shockwave. “I am sure you two have exchanged introductions?”

“Indeed,” Shockwave affirmed, his eye immovably fixed on Knock Out. “Your medical staff is rather … sparse, for such a large contingent of troops.” 

“We get by,” hummed the medic. Please don’t stare at me. 

“I have decided that Shockwave will be permitted to move his research equipment to the warship,” Megatron said. “I am assigning you the task of making arrangements for his new laboratory.” 

“Certainly, my lord.”  

You’ll set up shop down on deck E, big boy. Right next to the Insecticon hive. Very far from me.

“If I am to carry out my scientific endeavors effectively," Shockwave remarked, "I will need access to a means of sterilizing my instruments.” He turned to look at Knock Out. “I believe an adjoining room to the medibay would be the most logical choice.” 

Knock Out smiled thinly. Well, frag. 

“What a wonderful idea,” he said out loud.  

“Excellent,” Megatron said. “I trust you will find time to help him move the equipment.” 

“Of course,” Knock Out nodded. I’ll find time to make the Vehicons move the equipment. They probably need something to do.

“Very good.” Megatron nodded. “Soundwave will launch a bridge once you provide the coordinates—” 

“Lord Megatron!” Starscream called gleefully from the bridge computer. “I have found something of great interest!”

Knock Out squinted. Is he scrolling through social media? I thought scanning for alien sightings was Soundwave’s job. 

As the other officers gathered round, Starscream revealed the image he had procured with a flourish. 

“An Autobot!” he declared. 

But instead of the grainy, Bigfoot-esque alien sighting Knock Out had expected, all that they saw was a dancing monkey in a top hat. 

“Ha ha!” he burst out, before remembering the company he kept. The medic snapped to attention under Megatron’s beetled brows. You could have heard a pin drop in the bridge if it weren’t for the screeching primate on the screen. 

“Wait. What?!” Starscream cried, darting to the computer. “It was just here! Surely one of you saw it!” 

They all stared at him for an awkward moment. 

“Starscream,” Megatron ventured finally. “You would do well to take a cue from Soundwave on occasion, and keep things to yourself.” 

Soundwave’s stony silence was more smug than words could ever be. The Seeker set to work scouring the web again, muttering curses under his breath. 

“Lord Megatron,” Shockwave volunteered primly, “Surely our Autobot prisoner is a better source of information than this primitive datanet.” 

Starscream put a hand on his hip. “I will have you know, Shockwave, that I have been grinding Wheeljack down for days. If he knew anything, he would have spilled it by now.” 

“Again,” Megatron growled, “Some prove to be better at holding their tongues than others.” 

Knock out nearly laughed again. 

“Perhaps you would get better results if instead of a club, you used a scalpel,” Shockwave suggested. “I recommend the Cortical Psychic Patch.” 

“An innovative idea,” Megatron approved. “Knock Out, see to it that Shockwave is given whatever equipment he needs. If there is any information in Wheeljack’s head about Optimus Prime’s whereabouts, or the location of his human pet, report it directly to me.”

Knock Out raised his eyebrows. I guess we’re putting moving day on the back burner. What a piece of work.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“Optimus?” Smokescreen cried out, reaching for the unconscious Prime. “Optimus!” 

“No,” Nova winced, shaking her head as she struggled to fight the pain. “Don’t...” 

“He keeps going in and out,” Smokescreen insisted, his hands trembling as he jostled Nova’s guardian. “I have to keep him awake—”

“Stop it!” Nova snapped, sitting upright. The pain that racked her muscles was momentarily overpowered by her feverish irritation, and the muck clinging to the thin film of sweat on her skin only made her more furious with the desperate boy.

Optimus had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past few hours, and the sheer heat from his feverish plating had nearly dried her grimy clothes. He probably had internal bleeding in a million places. Things were getting decidedly worse, and the rookie knew it. But jostling Optimus only made things worse for her, too. 

“Sorry,” Smokescreen apologized, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t know what to do…”

“Go find Ratchet,” she fired back, her head dizzy with the effort it took to stay upright. 

“But Optimus said—“

“I don’t care what he said,” she snarled. “We need a medic. Right now.” 

Smokescreen’s face fell as the realization suddenly hit him. 

“He’s dying, isn’t he?” 

Nova was about to retort with a biting insult, but her head suddenly reeled with a flood of pain, and despite her attempt to hide it, her voice shook as much as she did. 

“Smokescreen,” she ground out. “Just … please…” 

Alarmed, the boy got to his feet. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll look for him. Just … don’t die.” 

“Don’t get caught,” snarled the half-spark. 

“I won’t.” 

With that, Smokescreen was gone, blipping into the walls like a ghost and leaving them alone with the darkness once more. The only indication that time passed at all was the slow rasp of Optimus’ labored breaths, and the faint drip-tap of cave water in the distance. 

Tap. 

It was like being buried alive.

Tap.  

Nova fell back against Optimus’ chest with a soft groan. Every throb of pain was another disgusting reminder of her half-human frailty. She couldn’t even form her armor, now. What could such a helpless, useless creature like herself do against Megatron’s forces if they were discovered? 

Nothing at all, she thought bitterly. 

Tap. 

Fighting tears, Nova pressed herself closer to her guardian with the raw desperation of a child, seeking out the familiar warmth of his Spark, but after a few futile attempts to find comfort, she realized something was terribly wrong. 

He’s getting colder. 

Tap. 

Nova struggled to fend off the creeping panic, but her body began to tremble from more than the chill. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the growing fear, but she could not escape the dreadful thought that he might no longer be able to hold her, that he might be slipping away forever, and taking her Spark with him. 

Her breaths came quicker. 

What am I gonna do? 

Tap. 

A soft caress slipping down her face took her by surprise, and her eyes sprang open, but it wasn’t until she felt the wetness of tears on her cheeks that she realized she was finally crying.  

Tap.

She bit down hard on her lip. Sobs came in muffled bursts as she continued to cling to him, her tears falling freely now. 

Tap. 

Tap.

Nova did not know how long she sat there and cried — like an idiot, like a stupid baby — but gradually, her sobs subsided, and her tears dried. The methodical rhythm of water that had once needled her awake became a soothing metronome. It walked amicably alongside her waning heartbeat, guiding her to close her tired eyes and breathe softly. 

If he's dying, then maybe … maybe this is it. For both of us.

Tap.

The temptation to fall asleep became a relentless demand, threatening to take her off guard every single moment. Her lashes fluttered as she fought to keep ahold of her wits. The half-spark was not sure why she felt such an irrational need to stay awake, but she had a dire suspicion that if she dozed off, she would not wake again. 

She wondered dimly what it would feel like to die.

Tap. 

It would be so … easy. 

Tap. 

Scattered memories of her life began to run back and forth in her head. She remembered the day they had gone to Antarctica for the Apex Armor, the only other time she had slowly crept toward a cold and silent death. 

Sniffling, she tilted back her head, gazing up at the Prime’s pale face. Despite his own injuries, Optimus had staunchly fended off their enemies and kept her awake long enough to make it home.   

Time after time, she had watched him endure a great deal of suffering for her sake — in the Arctic, in the face of Unicron’s destruction, even aboard the Decepticon warship, when he had forgotten everything about her. 

Tap. 

He always fought so hard, for her.

Tap. 

Is it my turn, now?  

Tap.

Nova’s lip trembled. This was more than survival, now. This was a test. Every second she stayed awake was another second he might stay alive. Her only job was to hang on until backup arrived.  

The half-spark set her jaw, reaching up to wipe a swath of dirt from her tear-stained cheek. 

Okay.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

An hour later, Shockwave stood before Megatron’s throne with his head hung low, exuding something that would have reminded Knock Out of shame if he suspected that Shockwave was remotely capable of feeling such a thing.

“The Patch failed to yield any new information on the whereabouts of the Autobots,” he reported briefly. 

Megatron dwelled on this for a moment, his hands draped over the armrests of the throne. 

“Hm,” he mused absently. “I see.”

To the medic’s surprise, Megatron did not seem as upset about their lack of success as usual. He just seemed a bit … disappointed. 

Starscream, of course, was on cloud nine at the news of Shockwave’s failure. 

“Well,” he grinned, folding his long, thin hands behind his back. “Then it would seem that Wheeljack has outlived his usefulness.” 

What is he on about? Knock Out wondered.

“With your permission, Lord Megatron,” the Seeker continued with a gracious bow. “I will see to his immediate termination.” 

Wow. Knock Out raised his eyebrows. Starscream really wants to rack up the Earthside kills.

“Very well, Starscream,” Megatron said. “Dispose of the prisoner as you see fit.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Thirty minutes later, four dead Vehicons and a missing Wrecker resulted in everyone being dragged to the top of the tower once again. This time, Megatron was properly enraged, and Knock Out got the sense that the Big M had only called him up here in case Starscream needed a medic, which looked to be very likely.

“This is how you handle things?” Megatron roared. 

Knock Out busied himself by watching the searchlights sweeping the countryside below. The first Vehicon to find Wheeljack had been promised a continued lifespan by their gracious master, but putting out searchlights was really more of a show and less of an effort. Tempting workplace incentives aside, every trooper knew that guy was long gone. 

“Wheeljack is not the first prisoner to escape Starscream’s care,” Shockwave pointed out smugly. 

The thought of Starscream’s wicked backhand — the bane of every waxjob — was the only thing keeping Knock Out from another untimely chuckle, but to his surprise, the Seeker was smiling, too.

“Actually, master,” he announced. “I allowed Wheeljack to escape.”

Megatron leapt from his throne. “You what?!”

Knock Out began to mentally log the obscure kinds of equipment he would have to fish out of storage to scrape Starscream off the walls. 

“Wait!” The Seeker scrambled to explain himself. “The Autobot’s every move, his every word, will be monitored!” 

The little gadget he held up looked a lot like one of Dreadwing’s old toys. 

Sicko. Knock Out rolled his eyes. Probably looted the room and didn’t even leave anything good for me.

“I implanted a simple tracking device while the prisoner was unconscious, following the failed Cortical Psychic Patch,” explained Starscream, with a slanted grin thrown in Shockwave’s direction. 

Shockwave’s lack of reaction was almost as frightening as sudden death. 

“Now all we have to do is wait, watch and listen,” Starscream chuckled. “When the Wrecker reunites with the other Autobots, my armada will strike.” 

Megatron's lip curled in a thin smile. Now Knock Out began to understand why he had spared Starscream’s life. Dreadwing may have been honorable, but Starscream was selfish, and selfish was predictable. And by giving him a competitor on the same rung of the ladder, Megatron kept Starscream hopping. The Seeker could never hope to kill Shockwave on his own, but he could try to outperform him, and he would not become complacent or lazy if he was always trying to find ways to one-up the purple people eater. 

Oh, well, Knock Out thought. Jealousy makes the world go round, I suppose. I mean, how else is Starscream gonna muster up a decent work ethic if he isn’t fighting for his life?

"Report this information to Soundwave, and have him monitor the situation closely," Megatron ordered. "Knock Out, proceed with transporting Shockwave’s laboratory equipment to our warship."

Drat. Was hoping he would forget about that. 

"Yes, my liege," Knock Out bowed dutifully. The boys better be ready to get off their butts.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Optimus woke with a gasp, just as Nova was getting tired of pinching herself to stay awake. Her body felt heavy, but she still forced herself to focus on him through the haze.

"Hey," she murmured, her voice rasping a little more than she wanted. 

Optimus tried to take in a deeper breath, but the pain of his wounds made him falter. The soft groan he let out sounded more like a sob. Nova felt tears prickling at her lashes again. Even without the mental bond to her guardian, she could tell he was depressed. 

Another breath, this one even more shallow. Nova’s heart lurched as she watched him struggle, fear clawing at her insides. Her white-knuckled fingers tightened around his metal as she clenched her fists. She wanted to shake him, to rouse him to life with sheer brute force, but all she could do was lay there, trying to keep her tears down. 

After a second, Optimus clenched his jaw, fighting to speak. "Where … is..."

"Gone," she said weakly. “Went to find Ratchet."

She saw his faint wince as another breath escaped him, more labored than the last. 

"He ... should not have gone," rasped the Prime.

Nova grit her teeth. Though she tried to bite back her frustration for his sake, her bitterness slipped out anyway. 

“Okay, sure,” she muttered. “So we’re just gonna die here? No hope? Is that what you want?”

Grimacing, Optimus’ eyes slid shut for a moment, but when he opened them again, the haggard weariness in his face chilled her to the bone. 

He looked so … defeated. 

“Nova…” he breathed, his thin voice trembling. He was so tired now, so close to giving up, and she could see it. Unbidden panic surged in her chest, and she began to wonder how long she could argue with him before her body was forced to give up, too.  

“Please,” she begged, hot tears beading on the rims of her green-brown eyes. “I can’t do this without you.” 

“Without me…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as his gaze wandered into the abyss. Nova’s breath caught in her throat as she realized Optimus wasn’t just tired anymore. He was contemplating something far worse; entertaining the idea that the world would be better off without a Prime to plague it. 

Nova took in a breath. 

“Without you," she said, "I will die." 

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Optimus’ eyes.

Tears finally spilled over as Nova blurted out the one thing she never wanted to admit. “… I'm scared.“

His breath hitched as a strange look crawled over his face, but still he said nothing. Nova realized with a sinking heart that the Prime was simply too tired to reply, if he had even heard her at all. 

The tense silence ended when Smokescreen burst through the cave wall. 

“I’m back!” he announced breathlessly, lines of worry etched into his face. 

Nova’s heart leapt when she saw the rookie, but sank once again when she saw that he was empty-handed and alone. 

“Ratchet?” she croaked.  

Smokescreen shook his head somberly. “I drove for miles. There’s nobody out there. Not even humans.” 

All Optimus could manage was a mumbled sigh between his shallow breaths. 

Head spinning, Nova fell back and closed her eyes. 

“You okay?” Smokescreen asked. 

Nova stifled her gut response only by clenching her jaw very hard. “Did you find… anything useful?” 

“I combed through every square inch of our base,” Smokescreen explained, kneeling next to Optimus. “I couldn’t find Ratchet’s medical kit, not even a bandage.”

Nova opened her mouth to tell him to go back; to use his good eyes and strong legs to search the entire country if he had to, but Optimus beat her to the punch. 

“The Forge…” he murmured. 

Nova’s ears pricked up. This was the first indication of Optimus trying to fix the problem that she had heard all day. Was he finding the strength to push on? 

“It’s gone, too,” Smokescreen sighed. “The Cons picked the place clean.” 

Optimus winced, struggling for breath, but for the first time since he had ordered her to leave the base, Nova saw piercing clarity in his eyes. 

Was he changing his mind? 

“Wait,” Smokescreen realized. “If you had the Forge, you could fix yourself up! Power of the Primes!”

Optimus grit his teeth, eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Smokescreen stood quickly. 

“Optimus, hang on just a little longer,” he declared. “That hammer’s gotta be somewhere in Megatron’s fortress. Just … hang on.” 

He passed through the walls and was gone. 

Nova swallowed, trying to get some moisture across her tongue. “You said there was no hope.” 

It took him so long to reply that she half-feared he had passed out again. 

“I … was wrong,” he breathed. “I n-need you to … rest.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, his face slackening a little. “All will be … well.”

Nova studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge his sincerity, but her leaden eyelids began to fall no matter how hard she fought. She wanted to stay alert, to keep watching, but it was pointless to try anymore. Her body screamed for rest, and the slightest hint of Optimus’ old dogged strength was enough—more than enough, really, to let go.

I think he wants to live, she thought. 

That small flicker of relief was enough to her muscles to jelly. With a heavy sigh, she curled up on his chest again, wedging her face against the rhythmic patter of his fading Spark. Her tattered clothes made a poor blanket, but she didn’t care anymore — she just needed to sleep. Whatever happened next was out of her hands. 

With this soothing thought, she allowed her swollen eyes to shut.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Knock Out flicked a speck of dust from his crimson finish, pretending to ignore the case of homicide he was about to witness. Everyone had already settled back into the old routine —Starscream’s failure, followed by Megatron’s wrath, and Soundwave’s stony silence in the corner. 

Wheeljack had gotten away again, for good this time. Apparently, Wreckers were wise to the “tracker under the hood” trick, and the debacle had cost Megatron another squad of troopers. 

“So not only did you fail to destroy the Autobots,” Megatron’s thundering voice reverberated off the walls, “but you allowed their number to increase?!” 

He clenched his fists, looking to sink them into something killable, and Knock Out made sure to take a few steps back. “Is there no one who can bring me their heads?!”

Starscream flinched at the accusation, his wings drooping as he fumbled for an excuse. Before he could muster a response, the cold voice of their newest member cut through the tension.

“If I may, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave stepped forward. "During my exile on Cybertron, I resumed work on a long-dormant project, one that I believe may provide a solution to our current problem.”

Megatron’s anger momentarily cooled as he turned his attention to the scientist. Shockwave moved to the control console, typing something in, and the screen before them flickered to life, revealing an image of a complex molecular structure.

It had been some time since he had seen pictures of it, but Knock Out was medic enough to recognize the molecule immediately. “Cyber nucleic acid?” 

“The building block of all Cybertronian life,” Shockwave confirmed with a nod. “This hails from a fossilized specimen I excavated on our planet, and has yielded promising results.”

Starscream scoffed. “The Autobots continue to evade us. What makes you think we can afford to wait for the answer to our prayers to be birthed in some … petri dish?”

Shockwave turned his terrible optic on Starscream, his tone unwavering. “You misunderstand. The subject has been fully cultivated, and need only be transported from my laboratory on Cybertron.”

A flicker of fear crossed Starscream’s face, his optics darting nervously between Megatron and Shockwave. Each point scored by the calculating scientist was another nail in the coffin of Starscream’s job security.

Megatron, momentarily more intrigued by the promise of this new weapon than the thought of killing his second-in-command, stood upright with a nod to Soundwave. 

“Then by all means,” he growled lowly, “activate the Space Bridge.”

Within minutes, Shockwave had been bridged back to Cybertron, and six Vehicons were gathered at the tower platform with the officers, ready to either welcome or eradicate whatever the frag Shockwave had cooked up.

As time ticked by, the atmosphere grew tense. 

So awkward. Knock Out did his best to stand still as the minutes passed. Every now and then, the Vehicons would glance back at him quizzically, wondering what was going on, but all he could do was shrug. 

Impatience was clearly getting the best of Megatron. His finger tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, and he stared out at the roof terrace with beetled brows. 

“Soundwave,” he barked, startling a few dozing troopers.  “Has there been any sign of the half-spark? Or Optimus Prime?”

Soundwave’s screen flickered with data as he performed a quick scan. After a moment, he shook his head.

Megatron’s frustration deepened, his optics narrowing into slits. “They have evaded me for too long. I need something to tip the scales. Something to pinpoint their locations without fail...”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the space bridge roared to life, casting an eerie greenish glow over the platform. Moments later, Shockwave emerged from the portal, his gait confident as he bowed before his leader.

“I present to you, my liege,” Shockwave gestured to the vortex, “The ultimate Autobot hunter.”

The ground trembled. A deep, rumbling growl echoed through the room. And the very next instant, a fragging dragon walked out of that bridge.

It was, no doubt, a dragon. There was no other way to describe it; the heavy maw, the serrated teeth, the scimitar talons. The eyes were the worst of all. To look into those burning, hungry eyes was to be stripped of all courage, to become immediately certain that the food chain had been reshuffled, and you were no longer on top. 

The Vehicons staggered back, narrowly avoiding falling off the parapets by clinging to their trembling comrades. Even Megatron’s optics widened in awe as the creature stood before him, its massive form casting a long shadow over the assembly. The dragon’s wings slowly unfurled, wide enough to span the whole terrace, and its horrendous teeth split in a deafening, blood-churning roar.

A new breed of Decepticon had been born. And woe betide those who dared to run from it. 

Chapter Text

For a moment, there was only silence. Every single person was struck dumb with visceral terror. 

Then, Megatron rose from his throne, his gaze fixed on the fearsome beast. The warlord had seen many weapons in his time, but nothing of this magnitude had crossed his path since Trypticon’s awakening during the Great War. This lab-grown devil was a force of nature, a living weapon of unmatched power.

Knock Out was petrified. It was bad enough that he was already the shortest Decepticon on board, but this new creature even made a dwarf out of their fearsome leader. The medic stood openmouthed, optics wide; he couldn’t even draw enough breath to swear. 

Starscream seemed to be the only one with a functioning voicebox at the moment. 

"A Predacon?” he choked. “But they’ve been extinct since the beginning of Cybertronian history!”

“Indeed.” Shockwave raised a hand to pet the living death machine with terrifying nonchalance. “But the specimen you see before you was bred in the laboratory, cloned from fossilized remains.” 

“Shockwave,” Megatron grinned with genuine admiration as he strode toward the dragon, “It does my Spark good to see you once again tampering with creation.”

“Master, please!” Starscream cried, his voice raising another octave as he watched Megatron approach the monster. “Keep your distance!” 

“No need for alarm,” Shockwave assured his leader. “The beast is completely under my control.”

The Predacon lowered its heavy head to the Decepticon leader, rumbling lowly. Most sensible people would have lost all composure at the dire proximity of the creature, but like a madman, Megatron remained unflinching, though certain death was mere inches away. 

“Such primal magnificence,” he marveled under his breath. 

Shockwave raised a small canister in demonstration. 

“A sample of Energon from Wheeljack,” he explained, tossing a dig at Starscream. “Spilled during the Autobot’s failed interrogation.”

The Predacon lowered its head to the sample, and the predatory optics narrowed to burning slits as it imprinted Wheeljack’s biological profile into its memory. The sheer intelligence in its gaze was unnerving, but a slow, sinister grin crawled across Megatron’s face as he watched. 

“Let the hunt begin,” he said.

As the Predacon caught the scent of its prey, its head snapped in the direction of the odor. With a thunderous roar, the creature launched itself into the air, its massive wings beating with enough force to send a gust of wind sweeping through the room. The floor quaked as the dragon surged toward the exit, tossing its head with the thrill of the hunt.

The Decepticons could only cover their heads as the Predacon swooped off the parapet, walls rattling in its wake. 

Once the immediate threat had passed, the troopers slowly began to collect themselves, some clutching their racing Sparks, some beginning to whisper in frantic undertones. Only Megatron stood calmly, his hands held behind his back as he watched the dragon dipping into the distant clouds. 

“Troopers,” he ordered, silencing the room. “Continue assisting Shockwave with transporting his equipment. The rest of you are dismissed.” 

Everyone scrambled to obey, eager to escape the oppressive heights. Shaken, Knock Out turned and staggered into the elevator for the warship’s dock. He would have to start getting his own things in order if he was doomed to be Shockwave’s roommate forever and ever. 

But as he turned around to press the button, Starscream slipped in beside him, wings stiff with barely restrained fury. 

Scrap. 

Suppressing a groan, Knock Out stabbed the button with a simmering frown. He had really been looking forward to spending the last few hours of his freedom alone. 

Knock Out never quite understood how he ended up on the top of Starscream’s short list of friends, but the medic almost always found himself called up to bat when the Seeker was upset, and right now, that brother wanted to pitch.

Sure enough, the moment the doors were shut and the elevator began its descent, Starscream exploded. 

"This is an outrage!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air. "An utter atrocity! Did you see what happened in there? Who does Shockwave think he is?”

“Probably thinks he’s the guy with a dragon,” Knock Out said under his breath. But Starscream didn't hear — or didn’t care.

"I mean, he thinks he can just walk in here, bring in some freakish lapdog, and take my rightful place at the head of the Decepticon army? I have never seen such unprofessionalism, such disregard for the chain of command. Why, I would venture to guess—”

As Starscream ranted, Knock Out began to tune him out, his mind turning to more practical matters, like which hallway led back to the warship’s dock. The whole “tyrant castle” layout had made it very difficult to remember where they had parked. And the Seeker’s tirade wasn’t helping.

“— I have worked faithfully for this position for eons! But the second Shockwave crawls out of that filthy junkyard he calls a lab, he immediately gains a position of my prestige?!”

“Mm-hm,” hummed the medic absently, turning left as he tried to jog his memory.  

“Participate, Knock Out, for Primus’ sake.”

“It’s terrible,” Knock Out obliged flatly.

“It is deplorable,” Starscream hissed, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Imagine me being treated in such a way. Me, Megatron’s second-in-command. I deserve more than being relegated to some military lackey.”

“It’s not all bad, Starscream.” His face brightened with relief as he finally spotted the entrance to the dock. “I can honestly say some of the troops missed you.”

By ‘some’ I mean one, and by ‘one’ I mean Steve, but whatever.  

Starscream’s glare could have melted steel. 

“What do I care about the cannon fodder?” he cried as they stepped through the warship’s doors. “What I want to know is how Shockwave managed to figure out cloning before anyone else.”

Knock Out furrowed his brow, curiosity piqued despite his annoyance. “Yes... Cold construction and clone templates have been around forever, but spontaneous Spark ignition? In a body grown from scratch? They used to say such things were beyond the reach of science — at least, our science.”

He looked around conspiratorially before leaning in. “Where did Shockwave learn to make something like that?”

“No matter,” growled the Seeker. “Let Shockwave’s beast try as it might. In my experience, Autobots are difficult to kill.”

“Unless they’re bleeding out, right?” the medic quipped. 

“Remember your place,” Starscream snarled. “But we will see how well this ultimate hunter of his performs in the field. And if it fails, well…” A sly smile curved Starscream’s lips. “Then perhaps his downfall shall become my windfall.”

Knock Out snorted. 

“I’ll have you know this is no laughing matter, Knock Out.”

"I'm sorry,” the medic sighed. “You're just … so dramatic."

"Is it dramatic to want what is rightfully mine?" Starscream demanded. "I was born to lead, not to grovel at the feet of some second-rate anorak and his scaly … pet."

"Come on,” Knock Out chuckled. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?"

As they turned the corner, neither of them noticed the flash of white-and-blue 38s as a certain sneaky someone slipped into the weapons vault. The Forge of Solus Prime would be gone in the next five minutes.

“I’m sorry, overreacting?” Starscream cried. “Easy for you to say, Knock Out. Nobody here wants your post.” He raised his hand with an air of grandeur. “I, on the other hand, hold the most coveted position in the Decepticon ranks.”

Knock Out folded his arms with a roll of his eyes. Megatron’s punching bag? Yeah, right. My dream job.

“And no matter what he may claim, I know that Shockwave is plotting to usurp me,” Starscream continued, his tone turning indignant once more. “Did you see that smug look in his eye when he unveiled that vile beast to Lord Megatron?”  

Knock Out’s spirits lifted as they turned down the last hall. His escape was near. 

“Well,” the medic suggested, emboldened by the prospect of finally ditching the Seeker. “If you want to get ahead in the game, it wouldn’t hurt to show some class once in a while.”

“Class!” Starscream spluttered. 

“You know,” he shrugged. “A little shut-up and man-up.”

Starscream looked like he was ready to boil over.

“Just saying,” the medic pointed out. “I’ve never seen Soundwave begging for respect.”

“Soundwave is a one-dimensional shadow,” the Seeker fumed, “A tattling, faceless nobody, and the game is rigged in his favor most of all.” 

“Whatever you say,” Knock Out said, halting in front of the medibay door. “But I have things to do, so…”

“His only identity is to be a disgusting growth beneath Megatron’s arm!” Starscream cried, ignoring the medic’s hints. “When he is not wasting his time toying with useless human databases, he is busy being a glorified security camera!”

Knock Out’s feeble warning fell on deaf ears. “If you stick around, you’re going to do manual labor—” 

“And another thing!” Starscream stormed into the doorway, gestures flying wildly. “I never enjoyed the way he snuck up on you as you worked. Do you notice the way he always—“

Here we go, Knock Out thought wearily, resigning himself to his fate as he tapped the button. I’m starting to remember why I didn’t miss this guy.

But for now, the medic kept his thoughts to himself. After all, Starscream just needed someone to vent to, and as much as he loathed the Seeker’s constant griping, he had to admit—life on the warship was never boring with Starscream around.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Optimus glanced down at the slumbering girl, keeping a wary eye on the slight rise and fall of her chest. Each breath she took was a small victory, and checking on her every so often gave him something to focus on — a small, precious distraction every time his vision threatened to blur. 

Her condition was growing steadily worse. There was little comfort he could offer her now; except hope and pray that Smokescreen would return in time. 

Carefully, with the gentleness of a seasoned father, Optimus lifted her from his chest, his hands struggling to maintain their usual steadiness. The small movement sent pain shooting through his failing systems, but he bore it in silence. He needed his Sparkchamber free for what he was about to do, and he couldn’t bear to see the look in her eyes if she woke up and realized what he was planning. 

She would fight him. She would demand that he find another way, and Optimus knew there was none. His time was coming to an end, that was certain, but he wouldn’t let death take him. Not yet.

He placed her softly on the ground by his side, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. She didn’t stir — thank Primus — she was so tired. 

His spark ached as he looked at her. He knew that Smokescreen would step in to protect her, to help her. Still, she had become his daughter in every way that mattered, and it pained him deeply to think that he wouldn’t be there to watch over her anymore.

His optics dimmed again as the agony surged through him, and flashes of unbidden memories filled his mind, a bittersweet collection of moments they had shared. He remembered the first time she had looked up at him with those bright, solemn eyes, the way she had clung to his hand when she was afraid, the pride he had felt watching her grow.

Struggling, he refocused his optics, taking in every detail of her peaceful expression. His thoughts drifted again to that day on Cybertron — how long ago it seemed, now. 

Nova had looked so small against the vast, broken world, but despite the grim sight she had turned from the horizon to smile at him, and for a moment, he was convinced that everything would be all right. 

That memory would be his final comfort. 

Smokescreen will take care of you, little one, he thought, leaning his weary head against the cave wall. He will take care of you all ...

With each passing second, the pain in his Spark grew more intense, but he endured it silently, his thoughts fixed on the girl beside him. He couldn’t afford to falter, not now. The plan was set in motion, and all that was left was to see it through to the end.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“Commander Starscream, you are wanted on the tower surface for a debriefing,” the intercom squawked. “No prisoners or remains were retrieved.” 

“Did you hear that?” Starscream cried gleefully, springing to his feet and nearly toppling Knock Out’s neat stack of boxes.

“Gah!” he cried, reaching out to catch his buffer before it fell. 

“No prisoners!” Starscream crowed. “The Predacon was an enormous disappointment! Oh, glorious day! Shockwave’s failure is officially worse than mine!”

“That’s so great,” Knock Out cheered dryly, shoving a few boxes onto the table. “This equipment isn’t exactly cheap, you know.” 

“Well?” Starscream beckoned at the door. “What are you waiting for? I want to see the look on his monocular face!”

“Really, I’d love to,” Knock Out put a hand on his hip. “But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to pack everything up so that my room can become Shockwave’s new stomping grounds. While you’re up there, try and see if you can get the dragon roomed outside, hm?”

With a shrug, Starscream walked away, and Knock Out went back to his work. Losing the privilege of having your own room in a six deck, twelve-hundred capacity warship was bad enough; losing your finish because you got too close to a dragon when Starscream was talking would have been even worse.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Smokescreen's Spark raced as he struggled to catch his breath, the weight of the Forge nearly buckling his knees. The grueling trek across the open desert had been almost as nerve-wracking as dragging the hammer through the entire Decepticon citadel in plain sight.

He hadn't rested in days, his arms were trembling, and his energy reserves were nearly depleted, but none of that mattered now. Only one thought dominated his mind.

I hope I'm not too late.  

The moment he finally passed through the wall, the cool air of the cave washed over him, offering a bit of relief to his aching limbs. 

His eyes widened when he saw the battered Prime lying on the ground, unmoving. Nova was no longer nestled on Optimus' chest, but laid carefully beside him on the cave floor. Her little body was eerily still.

"Optimus, are you all right?" Smokescreen knelt beside the Prime with shaking hands. "Please tell me you're alive."

Optimus stirred, his optics flickering to life. For once, they seemed focused.

That’s good…

“I have the Forge,” Smokescreen said eagerly, leaning closer. "You can use it to repair yourself!"

But Optimus merely shook his head, his voice a strained whisper. 

"That... is not the reason... I had you retrieve the relic," he whispered.

“What?” Smokescreen blinked, confusion clouding his face. "I—I don't understand."

"The power of the Forge is not unlimited," Optimus revealed between deep, labored breaths. "Its energy is already beginning to ebb. As is... mine."

“So it’s running low,” Smokescreen shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Who cares? All we need is enough juice to get you back into fighting shape!”

But Optimus shook his head again, more resolute this time. “Whatever power remains … must be used to rebuild the Omega Lock… to restore Cybertron…”

Smokescreen’s mouth fell open. The realization hit him like a freight train. 

“But—” he stammered. “But that means—”

“The fate of all our kind is more vital than that of any one of us,” Optimus insisted, closing his eyes. “Including… me.”

“No, you can’t talk like that,” Smokescreen shook his head desperately. “We need you, Optimus. Without you, we can’t use the Forge to restore Cybertron. We need a Prime.”

Optimus’ eyes met Smokescreen’s. 

“You will … have one,” he said softly.

Smokescreen froze. His optics widened in shock, and he instinctively took a step back, but before he could retreat, Optimus laid a steady hand on his forearm.

“The time for a new leader is upon us,” he said, his tone both tender and resolute. “In my Spark, I believe that leader stands before me … right now.”

Smokescreen felt his entire frame go rigid. His optics searched Optimus’ face for any hint of hesitation, any sign that this was some cruel joke, but there was none. Optimus was serious, and Smokescreen felt his legs beginning to buckle again.

“Me?” he whispered, barely able to find his voice. “You want me to be a Prime?”

Optimus nodded, his grip tightening slightly as if to lend the younger bot the strength to accept his destiny. “You have the heart of a warrior, Smokescreen. The courage of a leader. The Matrix will find you worthy.”

“But… I’m not ready,” Smokescreen protested weakly.

“Nor was I.”

Smokescreen’s mind reeled, panic bubbling up inside him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t ready for this. How could Optimus, the greatest leader he had ever known, possibly think he could fill those shoes?

“Optimus, I— I—” Smokescreen stammered, his voice breaking. “I’m not you. I don’t know how-”

“You will learn,” Optimus reassured him, “As I once did. It will be all right.”

Smokescreen’s optics burned with unshed tears. His mind scrambled to find any other solution, but it was so hard to think when everything was crashing down so fast. Not five minutes ago, he genuinely thought they had a chance, that they would make it out of this. 

Out of habit, Smokescreen’s gaze flicked to Nova, hoping for some biting remark or sharp comment to snap him back to reality. But she remained silent, whether in sleep or death, he could not tell. There would be no backup from her this time.

The crushing responsibility to make a decision began to suffocate him. His hands shook.

Optimus squeezed his arm gently, drawing Smokescreen’s attention back to him. 

“Let her rest,” the Prime urged, his voice weak. “She … would not approve.”

Smokescreen shook off the Prime’s hand and shot to his feet, pacing the cave as his thoughts tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I can’t do this,” he insisted. “I mean, I'm honored, but I’m… I’m not the right choice. I’m not.”

“Smokescreen,” Optimus struggled to speak, “the choice is neither yours nor mine to make. The Matrix will present itself only to one whose Spark is worthy-”

“No.” Smokescreen’s voice rose, a mix of fear and frustration. “No, you need to live. You need to find another way. Nova needs you. Won’t she die without you?”

Optimus turned his weary gaze to the sleeping girl, sorrow etching deep lines into his face. 

“Nova will not follow me into death,” he murmured softly. “Her Spark is partially bound to the Matrix. I believe her life will follow it.”

He looked back at Smokescreen with a final plea. “Take care of her.”

Smokescreen shook his head, still stubborn, still refusing to accept what was being asked of him. “No, I—I’m gonna figure this out. And until I do, you’re gonna fight it. You have to…”

He choked on his words, his voice trembling with emotion, but Optimus’ expression was peaceful, resigned. The Prime had already accepted what was to come.

“It will be all right,” Optimus repeated softly, his voice fading as his strength ebbed away. His optics dimmed, and soon, he was asleep again, leaving Smokescreen with a terrible choice to make.

He stood there in the dark for a moment, shaking. 

“Destiny?” he whispered doubtfully to himself, the word heavy on his tongue.

If this was destiny, he didn’t want it. 

He looked down at the Forge, its power slipping away with each passing second, and felt the weight of the future bearing down on him. The fate of Cybertron, of Nova, of everyone, rested on his shoulders.

And he didn’t know if he could carry it.

Chapter Text

Nova opened her eyes to the patchy light of a late afternoon sun, the world around her bathed in a hazy, golden glow. A gentle breeze whispered through the grass, sending a shiver down her spine. She gasped as a wisp of hair brushed her face, and she shot upright, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Optimus!"

The name escaped her lips in a child's round voice; soft and innocent, filled with dread. But as the name faded into the air, so did the memory of why she had called it out.

Who... who is Optimus?

Disoriented, she blinked once or twice, trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

She was sitting on a grassy hill, dappled with dusky sunbeams that filtered through the leaves of a leaning tree. Her body was smaller, her hands softer. The torturous pain was gone; all she felt now was a lingering drowsiness. 

Have I been here before? 

“Hey, lazy bones,” someone said behind her.  

She turned her head to face the speaker, and her heart skipped a beat as she recognized him, his scruffy brown hair lifting in the wind above twinkling eyes. 

“Coby?” she breathed, hardly daring to believe it. 

The boy grinned. “You done sleeping?” 

She stumbled to her feet, throwing her arms around him with a cry.

“Whoa!” He laughed, staggering back and sending them both tumbling into the grass, but Nova clung to him all the more. The weight of grief and guilt she had carried for months washed over her all at once, and tears poured down her cheeks as she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Ow,” he grunted, trying to wriggle away. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m so, so sorry-“

“For what?” he cried. “What are you talking about?” 

She just shook her head, her voice muffled in his shirt. “I missed you…”

“Missed me?” he snorted. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Nova pulled back slightly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. 

“You died,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Well, I — I thought you died.”

“Yeah, right. You’re nuts,” the boy huffed, sitting up with a wince. “Maybe next time you have a bad dream, give me a running start, okay?”

“Dream?” Nova asked, her voice still shaky. She looked down at her hands, expecting to see her rough, scarred fingers and aching wrists. But all she saw were the pudgy, soft hands of a child, completely free of the old wounds she thought she knew.

“Was it a dream?” she whispered to herself. 

The wind whispered along the grass as she knelt in the sod, her little summer dress stained with green streaks. The world seemed so vivid, so warm, so real, but something felt off. 

Coby got to his feet, brushing himself off and holding out a hand. 

“You ok?” he asked. 

Nova hesitated, trying to think. No matter how she tried, she could not shake the eerie feeling that she had been to this place before, that something was horribly, awfully wrong. 

“Coby?” she asked, glancing around the peaceful hillside. “Where are we?” 

A ringing laugh flew from his lips, and he tousled her hair affectionately, as if he were so much older than her.

“Jeez, you slept way too long.”

Nova nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I … I guess I must have been having a really weird dream.”

“I guess.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Alright, you ready to go?” 

She took a half-step forward, and stopped. 

"Go where?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh, home, genius.”

Nova’s heart skipped a beat at his words. 

“Home?” 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “We’re goin’ home.” 

She should have felt relieved. She should have felt overjoyed. But her gaze shifted down to his little hands, and she knew they were wrong. Those hands had never held a sword, surely those hands did not belong to the brave boy who bled out in her arms. 

What is going on? 

Instead of reaching for him, Nova’s little hand drifted to her pocket, and she felt something crinkle beneath her fingers. Frowning, she pulled out a piece of paper.

What is this?

With clumsy movements, she unfolded it, and her breath caught in her throat as she read the words written there.

“This is to certify that Optimus Prime, by and through the United States government…” 

She put a hand over her mouth.

Oh, no… 

The memory of the battle, of abandoning the base, of the Autobots — all of it came rushing back to her, tearing through the illusion like a knife. And suddenly, she knew. 

This isn’t real. 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked back at Coby, her heart breaking all over again.

“What’s wrong?” Coby asked. 

Breath hitching, she shook her head softly. 

Please, no... she bemoaned, her lips pulled back in a silent wail. Why is this happening to me?

“Nova?” the boy ventured. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

She was sorely tempted to let the paper fly away, to take his hand, to let herself enjoy a lie for once in her life. If she just turned a blind eye to the truth, if she just chose to forget it all right now, she could finally … rest. 

It was the hardest thing she had ever done, but with trembling chin, she swallowed her sob and clenched her fists, forcing herself to keep the paper in her hands. 

“What's wrong, Nova?”

The girl didn’t respond right away. She had heard that some people who were close to death saw their life flashing before their eyes, treated to a final courtesy of happy memories before they passed on. And if she had not been told the truth — if this sunny hillside had never been exposed for a lie — she might have been fooled. But thanks to Megatron's tampering, so many months ago, Nova knew better than to think she could indulge in such a privilege.

I have no happy memories.  

“This isn’t real,” she said lowly, struggling to say the truth aloud. “Is it.”

The thing that looked like Coby tried to chuckle. “Why does that matter—?”

“Shut up!” Nova burst out. “Shut the frag up. You’re not my brother.”

The apparition’s expression faltered, a shadow of pity passing over the childlike features.   

“C’mon, Nova," it coaxed in Coby’s voice, reaching for the paper she held so tightly. “Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to just… let go?”

"No!" Nova shouted. A surge of desperate strength coursed through her, and she shoved the boy into the dirt, eyes blazing in defiance.

”Ow!” He cried. “What was that for?” 

“Put me back!” she yelled. Yelling made her feel alive. “Put me back, now!”

The thing smiled softly, wearily. 

“Back?” it murmured. “I don't think you want to go back.”

As he spoke, the vibrant colors of the warm world around them began to fade, and Nova suddenly felt very cold.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Who am I?” He repeated, getting to his feet. “I am surprised you don't know me.”  

As she watched, the cheerful, innocent expression faded away beneath hollow eyes, and the boy’s little body began to elongate and morph, twisting into something else, something as ancient and terrible as time. Shadows wrapped around its gaunt body like a cloak, and as he grew to his full height, the light from the pleasant world around them bled out completely, leaving only a quiet darkness.

And Nova saw the face of Death.

But instead of the teeth and claws and bones, instead of the monster she had anticipated, all she saw was a quiet specter, a passing friend, a grandfather, one who walked among graveyards with tranquility and melancholy. He was the quiet shadow on a warm porch, the soft light of a candle, the gentle lull before a dreamless sleep. 

Nova’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped forward, the coolness of his cloak brushing against her skin like a crisp morning fog. 

He smiled at her, a mild, almost sheepish expression that seemed out of place on the countenance of an executioner. His eyes, dark and deep, were filled with a sadness that seemed to mirror her own.

“I apologize for my deception,” he said pleasantly. “I thought it might be easier if you came willingly.” 

Nova’s fists clenched, her knuckles turning white as she fought to suppress the fear swirling inside her. Though her body was fully grown, she felt as small and fragile as the child he had tried to deceive. 

“You are allowed to breathe, you know.” A more amused smile tugged at his mouth as he noted her clenched fists and wild eyes. “I am not here to frighten you.” 

Nova licked her dry lips and tried not to sound like she was two seconds away from a heart attack. “Then why are you here?”

"Well," Death began, his gaze drifting to the papers in her hands. "Technically, I am here to collect you." 

He paused, watching the way her grip tightened. "But since you do not appear to be quite dead yet, I think I am going to offer you a choice few mortals are given."

“What choice?” 

He shrugged. “You may either live, or—"

“Live,” she said immediately. 

He tilted his head. “Let me finish.” 

“No,” she insisted, louder. “I want to live.”

The burning eyes softened a little, as though the creature had found pity for her in its ageless heart.  

“You do not know what I am offering you, contentious one,” said he. 

“Then tell me.” 

Death’s voice grew somber. “Evil has followed you since the day of your birth. I ... think you know this.” 

Here he lifted his cloak for a moment, and in its swirling shadows Nova saw things that she knew well, the shadowy figures from her nightmares that always peered at her from behind dark glass. 

Nova stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding against her ribs. 

“You do not have to die today, Nova,” he continued, lowering his cloak. “But if you live, you are fated to do something terrible. Something that even I, who am well-acquainted with sorrow, do not like to imagine.”

The girl clenched her fists, glaring at him with sudden vehemence. “What do you mean?” 

He stared at her for a moment, as if uncertain that she should be allowed to know. 

“In your heart, you fear that you were born to kill and be killed,” he said at last. “And you are right. Unless a miracle occurs, your life will end in the suffering you cause.” 

His face grew taut and grim, as if he could see the horror unfolding right in front of him. “You will send many people down to dance with me, and you will be the bearer of much grief. This … has always been your destiny.”

Nova pressed a hand to her eyes. The Autobots, the children, Optimus, they had all told her she could be loved. That she could change. That she could be better. And she had fought so hard to make that dream a reality. But now, all that effort felt ridiculous, cruel jokes played at her expense. Lies, filthy, beautiful lies they were. And for a while, she had believed them. She felt her lungs begin to clench as her shoulders shook.

“Can I change it?” she managed to choke. 

“Change it?” Death shook his head sagely. “No. Not you.”

A sharp sob leapt from her throat. She tried to press her hand to her mouth, tried to stop it, but the tremors kept coming, each one more violent than the last. Her body heaved with the weight of them, lungs burning as they struggled to find air between the ragged gasps. She felt as though she was being torn apart from the inside, the pieces of herself breaking and crumbling under the unbearable truth. 

Born to kill. The words jeered at her. She wasn’t meant for love, for good things. She was nothing more than a weapon, a tool, a threat. And no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much she wanted to be more, that would never change. Her fate had been decided long before she ever had a chance to fight it. 

I am nothing. I was always nothing.

As she wept, Death moved closer. His cloak, dark as the night sky, spread over the hillside like a comforting shadow. Gently, he wrapped it around her, drawing her into his embrace. She flinched, but to her surprise, there was no bone-chilling cold, no gnashing of teeth. Instead, the darkness curled around her like a cat, soft and silent, lulling her into a quiet, peaceful rest.

“I can offer you something different,” he whispered lowly. “If you would let me.”

Nova swallowed hard, her head resting against his chest, her tears staining the fabric of his cloak. The ache in her throat began to fade, replaced by a strange, serene numbness. Death’s words drifted through her ears on a silken thread.

“All you have to do is take my hand, and dance with me instead,” he said, offering her his pale, slender fingers.

Nova’s body went limp against his, her mind quieting as her burning heart slowed to a steady, lethargic beat. Her breath grew shallow, and for the first time in a long while, she felt… calm. She watched her hand, trembling yet obedient, as it reached for his. The distance between their fingers shrank, and the world faded around her. She was a candle, crawling down to its final flicker, her resolve melting quietly away.

Then, just as her fingers were about to close around his, her gaze drifted to the crumpled paper still clutched in her other hand, standing out like a flag against the cloak of shadows. 

Life is not all suffering, is it? 

With a sharp intake of breath, she ripped her hand away. Her heart slammed back to life in her chest like a war drum. 

"No!" she gasped, as if she had been drowning. "I… I choose to live.” 

Death regarded her with a look of profound sadness. 

“Are you sure?” he warned. “You do not know what such a life holds.”

Nova grit her teeth. “I’ll take my chances.”

"Then I shall not keep you here long," he sighed, the shadows shifting as he drew away from her. “In your hands is your will to live.”

Nova blinked, her vision hazy for a moment as she glanced down. Her adoption papers had been changed; she now gripped a short sword. The weight felt good in her cold fingers, and she clung to it tightly, her knuckles turning white with the effort. Her heart raced as she looked up, meeting the eyes of Death once more. 

“Defeat me here, and our meeting will be postponed,” he said casually, as though discussing a business venture. “Fail, and you will die this very hour.”

He drew a long, black blade from beneath the folds of his cloak, and it glistened like moonlight on troubled water as he pointed it at her. Her eyes widened in terror as she stared at it, and when Death next spoke, his voice was like the toll of a distant bell.

"Fight, Nova," he commanded. "Fight for your life."

Her breath hitched in her throat, but there was no time to process what had just happened. Death lunged at her, his sword slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Instinct took over. Nova swung her newly formed blade upward, the clash of steel ringing in her ears as she parried his blow.

The force of the impact reverberated through her bones, nearly knocking her off balance. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, her feet sliding against the invisible ground beneath her. Death stepped back with an eerie grace, as if this duel were merely a slow dance.

With a snarl, Nova charged him. Her sword arced through the air, singing as it clashed against his. But Death barely seemed fazed. His face remained solemn, calm, his movements effortless. Each time she struck, he parried with ease, the weight of her blows absorbed by his unwavering stance. Nova’s breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from her brow, muscles burning.

“Such anger!” Death praised her as he sidestepped another wild swing. “Good! You will need it before the end.”

Too tired to reply, Nova took a breath and lunged. The clash of their blades rang out like thunder. Her arms strained as they grappled, but he thrust her back as if she were nothing.

Regaining her footing, she struck once, a blow aimed at his side. He deflected it effortlessly, but she didn't stop. With a roar, she struck again, this time connecting with his shoulder. He barely flinched. His movements were fluid, calm, as if they were dancing rather than fighting.

Nova's muscles burned, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she kept pushing forward. Another strike. Another. Again! Again! 

Death was fast, too fast, he danced around her, but she fought back with everything she had, pouring fury, fear, defiance into every raging swing.

"You fight well!" Death smiled. "How long will you last?"  

“Gah!” Finally, Nova swept her sword up from below, and to her surprise, Death staggered back, shadows curling as he struggled for balance. 

Hope surged in her chest, and she pressed her advantage. Telltale reflections of blue glinted in her blade as she swung it -- her eyes were blazing, now! Once. Twice! Three times she struck, three times he stepped back. For a moment, she thought she had him. She could do this. She could win.

But Death’s expression remained serene, almost gentle, as if he were indulging her rather than making an effort. And Nova was exhausted. Her breaths came ragged, her muscles burning from the effort. Her arms felt like lead, but she swung again, as hard as she could — and missed.

Her knees buckled.

She fell to the ground, gasping for breath, vision swimming. Death loomed over her, his sword poised just above her neck. But he didn’t move. He waited. His eyes, sorrowful and patient, watched her as she struggled to rise again.

"Get up," he whispered softly. "If you want your life, fight."

Panting, Nova pushed herself up, using the sword as a crutch. Her entire body screamed in protest, but she wasn’t done yet. She forced herself back onto her feet, her breaths shallow and desperate. Her arms trembled under the weight of her sword as she lifted it up, her body screaming for rest. But she held her ground.

Death watched her patiently, his eyes tinged with something like respect. When her eyes met his again, he smiled, lifting a hand to his cloak and drawing it open for her to see. A thin line of silver blood trickled from a cut just above his heart. 

Nova gaped. She had no idea any of her strokes had touched him at all. 

"Well done," her opponent murmured, sheathing his sword.

The instant his blade slid home, Nova felt herself beginning to fall again, but he reached out and steadied her with one arm, allowing her to slump against him. 

"Remember," he said as the shadows began to swirl. "Every mortal must walk with me one day. Even you.”

His hand cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. Before she could react, he bent down and pressed a cold kiss to her forehead. A chill rippled through her entire body at the gentle touch. 

"But no one’s dying day is set in stone," he whispered against her skin. "I hope you and I do not meet again for a long time."

Nova felt his shadows pull away, and the world began to melt into nothingness as her vision faded, until all that remained was the distant echo of his final command.

"Now... wake up."

“…So wake me up when its all over, when I’m wiser and I’m older…”

Nova’s eyes sprang open. 

“…all this time, I was finding myself, and I didn’t know I was lost…” 

She was no longer being held down by the master of the grave. Instead, she found herself strapped securely into the passenger seat of Smokescreen’s alt mode, the seatbelt chafing her neck as they raced down the road at breakneck speed.

The radio was playing.

“This is your 98.6 KBKO, featuring the hottest tracks of 2013, and that was Avicii with the new hit, Wake Me Up, from his debut album. Up next, we have Anna Kendrick, Bastille, and Capital Cities, with more top songs of the summer on the way. Stay tuned.”

Chapter Text

Smokescreen's tires screamed against the pavement as he tore down the deserted highway, his engine roaring in the otherwise silent afternoon. In Optimus's absence, the rookie had been entrusted with the unconscious girl's safety, but with the Decepticon tower only a few miles ahead, he was determined not to miss the showdown.

Suddenly, the passenger seatbelt snapped forward, nearly yanking his soul out of his body.

“Where’s Optimus?!” his cargo roared.

“AUGH!” Smokescreen swerved, barely managing to keep his wheels on the road.

“Where is he?!” Nova demanded again.

“Holy scrap! Take a chill pill—”

“Smokescreen!” Nova interrupted, teetering on the edge of panic. “Tell me where he is!”

“I don’t know!” Smokescreen stammered. “I’m trying to find him!”

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong answer.

“You lost him?!” she shrieked.

“Yes! No! I mean—” He scrambled for the right words. “I know where he’s going!”

“Going? What —? He’s hurt!” Nova’s panic surged, and Smokescreen could feel her shaking in his passenger seat. 

This wasn’t how he imagined their conversation going. He was supposed to be the hero right now; Optimus was counting on him to keep things under control, but that was getting harder by the second, and the very last thing he needed was for Nova to completely lose it before they got to Darkmount, especially if there were still Cons to clean up. 

“He’s fine, Nova!” he tried to reassure her.

Nova’s fists slammed into his dashboard, her voice tight with fury. “You’d better fragging explain yourself!”

With a screech of tires, Smokescreen pulled to the side of the road, transforming in one fluid motion. Nova was thrown into the air with a startled scream, but his hand was ready, catching her in his laced fingers before she could hit the ground. She landed wide-eyed, trying to regain her lost wind.

“Now listen,” Smokescreen said firmly. “You need to stop freaking out. Twenty minutes ago, you almost died, and just now, I almost died. Freaking out is not good for either of us. Okay?”

Nova trembled, fear welling in her eyes. Now that she had been brought to a sudden stop, her rage had retreated, and she just looked scared. 

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

Smokescreen took a deep breath, forcing calm into his voice. “Everything’s okay. Optimus is taking down the Decepticon tower. We’re going to meet him.”

“But—” Nova started, but Smokescreen cut her off.

“He’s not hurt anymore,” he said, his tone softening. “You were asleep when it happened, but Optimus was gonna—” He hesitated, deciding to spare her the depressing details. “—whatever. It doesn’t matter. Long story short, the Forge repaired him. He’s totally fine.”

Nova blinked, her fear slowly giving way to confusion. 

“He’s … okay?” she asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Yes, he’s…” Smokescreen paused, choosing his words carefully. “He looks a little different now, but he’s definitely okay. Better than okay.”

Relief washed over Nova, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her. 

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost defeated.

Smokescreen offered a small, reassuring smile. “So, you wanna let me drive, or what?”

She nodded silently, releasing her grip on his hand.

“Good.” He transformed back into his alt mode, waiting for her to buckle up. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Nova replied, her voice steadier.

“Okay, hang on,” Smokescreen said as his engine revved to life. “Hope there aren’t any cops around.”

With that, he floored it, tires screeching as they shot back onto the highway.

Now that the adrenaline was fading, Nova fell into an uneasy silence. She curled up in the passenger seat, clutching her legs to her chest as she stared out the window. Her bare fingers clutched idly at the paper in the pocket of her army jumpsuit.

I can’t feel him. 

Am I alive?

Why am I alive?

How did I live? 

Why can’t I feel him?

“Hey,” Smokescreen asked after a while, his tone gentle. “You all right?”

Nova shook her head slightly, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. 

“I’m fine,” she said, though the weight in her voice betrayed her.

“Are you crying?”

Nova’s eyes flashed with anger. “Will you shut up and drive?”

“Okay, all right.” Smokescreen backed off, letting the rumble of the engine fill the awkward silence.

The speedometer crept higher as the asphalt blurred beneath them, but his thoughts lingered on her. He knew she wasn’t fine, but he also knew that Nova never said everything she meant, and he never knew the right thing to say. 

So, he did as she asked, returning his attention to the highway.

Nova’s cold fingers crept up to a sore spot at the top of her neck, and to her surprise, they came away slick with her own blood. Upon further investigation, she realized there was only a squishy little hole where Ratchet’s inhibitor had been. She pressed down on the wound, wincing at the resulting pang.

So that’s why ... 

Gathering her wits for a few more seconds, Nova finally broke the silence, her voice tight. 

“Were we dying?” she asked curtly. 

“You came pretty close,” admitted the rookie. “But it’s okay now—”

She cut him off. “If Optimus was dying, how did he lift that hammer?” 

“Uh… well…”  

Smokescreen knew the truth, of course. Not two hours ago, Optimus had been on the brink of death, ready to pass the Matrix to him and make the ultimate sacrifice. If Smokescreen hadn’t intervened, Nova would have received a new guardian and lost her old one without even getting the chance to say goodbye. 

How could he tell her that? 

Luckily, something in the distance caught his eye before he had to say anything. 

“Hey,” he remarked, seizing the distraction. “Do you see that?”

Darkmount loomed ahead, engulfed in a column of black, billowing clouds that stretched into the sky.

“Holy scrap,” Nova frowned, leaning forward to get a better view. “It's on fire. What’s happening up there?”

“I dunno, but we’re getting close,” he warned. “You should armor up if we’re gonna kick some ‘Con tail.” 

“Yeah.” Nova nodded, shaking off her questions. They had more immediate concerns to deal with. 

She squared her shoulders, trying to activate her armor as she’d done countless times before, but nothing happened. To her horror, the rivets in her back refused to respond, and her body remained exposed. 

Panic flared sharply in her chest. Heat rushed to her face. She tried again, and again and again, dread blooming brighter with every failed attempt. 

“Oh, no…” she breathed.

“What?” Smokescreen asked, catching the shift in her tone.

“Why is this happening to me?” she growled, her frustration boiling over as she continued to try, her efforts growing more frantic.

“You can’t use your armor?” Smokescreen asked, his concern deepening.

“I can! I can, just—” She grunted, straining with the effort. “Give me a second—” 

But no matter how hard she tried, the familiar glint of her armor refused to appear. The mechanisms that had always obeyed her commands now felt foreign, inert, like they no longer recognized her. Like a part of her had been amputated. 

She stared down at her bare hands as a cold realization seeped into her mind, and the seatbelt loosened as she slumped back in the chair. 

“I … can’t,” she murmured, as though she could hardly believe it.

Smokescreen could sense the devastation in her voice, and he didn’t blame her. Without that armor, they both knew she would be about as effective in battle as a wet paper towel. Again his mind raced, searching for something, anything to reassure her, but again he came up empty. Tactfulness had never been his strong suit. 

I have got to get better with words, he thought.

“Nova…” he began.

“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could say anything more. “I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“But you can’t fight in that condition,” Smokescreen protested.

“Oh! Well, I guess I’m useless, then!” she shot back, her voice laced with bitterness. 

"Thats not what I meant--"

“Yeah, sure," Nova huffed, reaching for the buckle. "You know what? Just drop me off right here.” 

“Not a chance,” Smokescreen insisted, his tone firm. “Optimus told me to stay with you—”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Nova interrupted, her voice hardening. 

“But you need a driver,” he countered, refusing to back down. “You really wanna walk all the way to Darkmount on your tiny little legs?”

“You really wanna cart my tiny legs around?” she snapped. “Huh? You’re gonna let me slow you down, Mr. Destiny?”

“I lost my destiny!” Smokescreen yelled, his frustration finally boiling over. “Okay? I missed my chance to be great. Now, I’m just trying to do the right thing, and you’re not helping at all!”

The outburst hung in the air. Nova had never seen the rookie lose his cheery attitude like this. Suspicion flickered in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but the words died in her throat as they both heard a low rumble in the distance.

“Uh. What was that?” Smokescreen asked. 

A few tiny specks of rubble sprinkled onto the windshield as he spoke, and Nova kept her gaze on the looming tower ahead. As they watched, the upper third of the tower caved in like a plastic straw, and Darkmount began to crumble before their eyes, the ground trembling beneath them as bits of debris peppered Smokescreen’s chassis.

“It’s falling!” Nova cried.

In an instant, Smokescreen hit the brakes and tumbled back into robot mode, balancing Nova in one hand as he got to his feet. 

“Augh! I missed it,” he bemoaned, frustration coloring his words. 

The once formidable structure had been reduced to a heap of scrap, but they only saw it toppling for a second or so before the blinding wall of smoke rolled over them. 

Instinctively, Smokescreen cupped another hand around Nova, shielding her from the hailing bits of charred metal. With an indignant frown, she shoved his hand aside, and they stood like that in the middle of the road for some time, watching the tower topple from within. 

Suddenly, Nova pointed to the sky. “What’s that?”

Smokescreen followed her gaze, his optics narrowing as he focused on the distant figure cutting through the clouds. 

“That’s Optimus,” he sighed. "I guess it’s really over."

“He's flying!” 

“Yeah.”

“Since when does Optimus fly?”

“Since the Forge upgraded him into a walking arsenal,” Smokescreen shrugged. “C’mon, let’s catch up.”

By this point, the falling ashes had blanketed the road in grey snow. Smokescreen carefully set Nova down before transforming back into his alt mode, the roar of his engine echoing through the quiet valley as they left dark tracks in the soft powder.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

As Smokescreen pulled up to the rendezvous point and transformed, Nova shoved open his door and stumbled out, her heart racing with anticipation. 

To her surprise, everyone else was there, too. Bulkhead and Wheeljack stood together, comparing a few battle scars they had suffered, and Arcee was watching them with a hand on her hip, shaking her head softly. Bumblebee was squatting on the ground, his wings drooping a little. There was no sign of Ratchet, or the kids. 

Slowly, her eyes scanned their weary faces. Everyone looked to be in terrible shape. Their bodies were all smudged with varying degrees of soot and laser fire, and when they moved, they moved stiffly, favoring their aches and wounds.

A flash of bright red and blue caught her eye, and she turned around, eager to see Optimus, but her excitement quickly turned to shock as her eyes landed on the towering figure before her.

His upgraded body had become a hulking mass of metal and weaponry. Her guardian had a jetpack was mounted on his back, his head almost looked shrunken compared to the sheer breadth of his shoulders, and he cast a gigantic shadow, longer than that of anyone she had ever met.

Such a person was surely too large to notice something as trivial as a human. 

Sheepishly, Nova shrank away, hiding behind Smokescreen’s leg as she tried to reconcile this new, intimidating figure with the Optimus she remembered.

Smokescreen glanced down at her, concerned. 

“It’s okay, Nova,” he whispered, but she barely registered his words.

Maybe he doesn’t remember me, she worried. Maybe his brain reset. Maybe he's Orion Pax all over again.

But then Optimus turned.

“Nova,” he said, his voice rich and clear, but carrying the same softness it always had when he spoke to her.

His gentle blue optics met hers, and the sight of the eyes she knew so well finally dissolved her fear. She stepped out from behind Smokescreen and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his leg in a tight hug. Relief washed over her as she clung to his solid metal, and she closed her eyes, trying not to cry for the second time that hour.

“You’re alive,” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as she was.

Optimus carefully placed a massive hand on her back, his touch as gentle as ever despite his new size. “I’m glad to see you safe,” he said lowly.

As they embraced, the rest of the team gathered around, their attention briefly diverted by the sight of Nova clinging to Optimus.

“Sir, who is this… human civilian?” A new voice asked curtly. 

Nova twisted her head to see the speaker, and to her surprise, the sight of the stranger was not altogether foreign to her. He looked a little like Optimus, the old Optimus, anyway, except with all-blue plating and a sour face. He had an air of disapproval about him, of stiff dedication to a dogma he intended to wield like a whip.

The newcomer turned his cold gaze upon Smokescreen. “You there, soldier."

Smokescreen gaped when he realized who was addressing him. "Commander Magnus! It's an honor to meet you!"

“Remember your protocol, guardsman.”

"Yes, sir!" Smokescreen snapped to attention, and Magnus waved him aside. 

"That'll do. Why have you brought a human into a warzone?”

Smokescreen met the commander’s gaze with a hint of confusion. “Well because I might have needed her help,” he replied. “Sir.”

Ultra Magnus remained skeptical, his expression hardening. “I find it hard to believe that a lifeform from this planet could make any significant difference in a conflict of ours.”

Bristling though she was, Nova remained silent, her shoulders slumping.  Magnus was right, of course. Without her armor, she would have been completely useless in a fight. Still, his immediate dismissal hurt, and she felt a stinging wave of shame wash over her. 

But her embarrassment faded a little at the sound of Optimus’ voice coming to her aid. 

“Nova is my charge,” he explained to the newcomer. “And I owe her my life.”

“I … see,” Ultra Magnus nodded, though the skepticism in his tone made it clear that he did not see. 

“Speaking of your life,” Wheeljack said to Optimus. “I saw the base go down. How’d you make it outta that wreck?” 

“Despite my orders, Nova and Smokescreen returned to aid me.” For the first time in a while, Nova had to actually look at Optimus’ face to know that he was smiling. 

“Is that right?” Wheeljack asked, putting his hands on his hips as he looked at the rookie.   

“Our very own Elite Guardsman took it upon himself to hide us from Megatron's forces, and used the last of the Forge's power to revive me," Optimus said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Without him, we would not be celebrating a victory today." 

The grinning Wreckers began clapping Smokescreen on the back, their admiration evident.

“Nice job, rookie,” Bulkhead said proudly. 

“Not bad kid,” Wheeljack agreed. “Not bad at all.”

Smokescreen chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, but Nova could see the conflicted expression in his eyes. Normally, he would have been beaming with pride at the praise, but something about the situation seemed to weigh on him.

Arcee tapped a hand to her ear, speaking to someone on the other end of the comms. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you’ll never guess who made it out.” 

Since Smokescreen was still busy trying to survive the agonies of congratulations, Arcee jerked her head at the half-spark. 

“Patch in to the comms,” she directed. “The kids are yelling.”

Fishing the commlink nub out of her pocket, Nova switched it on and raised it tentatively to her ear.  

“Hello?” 

“NOVA!”  three voices screamed. Nova jerked the link out of her ringing head, holding it a short distance away. 

“What happened?”  Ratchet cried.  “Are you and Smokescreen all right? Were either of you caught in the explosion?” 

“Did you see the dragon?”  Miko yelled. 

“Do you think you can pick up a pizza on the way back?”  asked Jack.

“We missed you!”  Raf piped up. 

Overwhelmed, Nova bowed her head, fighting tears as she soaked in the happy sound of their voices. “Hi, guys.”

“So, whats the plan now?” Bulkhead asked Optimus.

“We party hard,”  Miko said. 

“Nowhere to hold a party, kid,” denied Arcee. “The base is a heap of scrap right now.”

“I concur,” Ultra Magnus continued, his tone firm, “Our priority now should be to regroup and establish a new base of operations.”

“About that,” Agent Fowler interjected, stepping forward. “In light of the recent disaster, the air base has agreed to house your team in one of our emptier hangars. It’s not as roomy as your old base, but I can guarantee it’s better than living on the road. We'll provide every resource we can.”

“You have our thanks, Agent Fowler,” Optimus said, with another rare smile.

“The gratitude is mine, Prime,” Fowler replied. “Believe me, humanity owes you a lot more than a shack.”

As the others prepared to move out, Optimus knelt down to speak to Nova. His size was still intimidating, but his eyes held that familiar warmth she had always known.

“Nova,” he began gently, “In my current form, I no longer have a vehicle mode. You’ll need to ride with Smokescreen on the way to the hangar.”

Nova’s heart sank a little at the thought. She had hoped to stay close to Optimus, to feel the comfort of his presence after everything that had happened. But that couldn’t be helped now. 

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, though reluctance lingered in her voice.

“Oh, yeah!” With a dumb little dance, Smokescreen rolled back into his alt mode, the door popping open for her. “It’s the cool kids’ car. Uh huh. That’s right. You know it.” 

Nova couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his enthusiasm.

“Just don’t crash,” she muttered.

“Me? Come on,” Smokescreen scoffed as she climbed back into his alt mode, revving the engine. “I don’t even speed.” 

As they peeled around and shot back toward the road, Nova glanced out the window at Optimus, who was watching them go.

She could not feel a thing from him anymore. 

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The bridge of the Nemesis was uncharacteristically silent that night. Hands folded behind his back, Megatron brooded at the end of the platform, his optics narrowed into slits as he glared at the holographic display of the Earth below. The image of their fallen tower loomed large on the screen, a stark reminder of the day's failure at the battle of Darkmount.

Starscream stood off to the side, ever the opportunist, carefully watching Megatron’s every move. Knock Out leaned against the wall, his expression somewhere between bored and annoyed, while Soundwave, as always, remained silent, his faceless visor giving nothing away.

“This is unacceptable!” Megatron’s voice boomed through the chamber, reverberating off the metallic walls. His fists clenched tightly around the arms of his throne, the metal groaning under the pressure. “We were on the cusp of victory! The Autobots should have been nothing more than scattered wreckage by now!”

“But instead, they’ve brought down our tower and left us without our greatest asset,” Starscream chimed in, his tone oozing with false sympathy as he leered at Shockwave. “Such a terrible turn of events, wouldn’t you say?”

“A turn of events which would have never occurred if our military commander had not scattered our forces and left us defenseless,” Shockwave pointed out. 

“Silence!” Whirling around, Megatron shot them both a glare that could have melted steel. “Spare me your petty squabbles.”

“Of course, Lord Megatron,” Starscream quickly backpedaled, bowing his head slightly. 

“I only meant to acknowledge the cause of our loss,” Shockwave said. 

Knock Out rolled his optics. This day was actually turning out to be the longest one he could remember. 

“The Predacon hunter was essential to our plans,” Megatron continued, ignoring the bickering. “And now it’s stranded somewhere on this wretched planet, thanks to our enemies.”

“The Autobots have been emboldened by their recent victory,” Starscream said, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that would favor him. “But they’ve only delayed the inevitable. We still have the advantage in numbers, resources, and, of course, your unparalleled leadership.”

“You weary me, Starscream,” Megatron growled. “The Autobots should have been crushed underfoot, yet Optimus Prime not only survived—he has been reformatted. We are once again forced to contend with his strength.”

“But, we know of a weakness that we can use to our advantage!” Starscream pointed out. “The girl is still missing.”

Megatron’s mouth curled into a cruel smile. 

“Yes,” he hissed. “The half-spark.” 

Knock Out finally spoke up, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of concern. “Don’t you think we might be putting a little too much stock in this girl? I mean, sure, she’s important to Prime, but obsessing over her might not be the best use of our now-limited resources.”

Megatron’s gaze snapped to Knock Out, his optics blazing. “You underestimate the significance of that human, Knock Out. With Nova in our hands, Optimus will be forced to capitulate. She is the key to breaking him.”

“Might I mention that this is a military meeting?” Starscream remarked, rounding on the medic. “Why are you even here?”

“Because our mighty leader got tossed like a Frisbee and landed in our power core?” Knock Out reminded him. “Medically speaking, not the greatest experience.” 

Seeing their mighty leader’s gaze sharpen again, Knock Out held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just making an observation, Lord Megatron. No offense intended.”

Megatron’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned away, his expression darkening. 

“We must find her,” he insisted. “She is Prime’s only remaining weakness, and I will see to it that she is brought before me.”

Starscream, sensing an opportunity, stepped forward. “I will personally oversee the capture of the human. Once Soundwave pinpoints her location, you can trust me to bring her to you, Lord Megatron.”

“See that you do,” Megatron replied, his tone laced with menace. “Let it be known that I want her unharmed this time, Starscream. Not a single wound.”

Starscream bowed deeply, a smirk playing on his lips. “She shall be in pristine condition, my liege.”

With a nod, Megatron turned and stalked toward the bridge doors, his footsteps shaking the room.

“Send out the troops at once. The Autobots may have won this battle, but the war is far from over,” he declared. “We will reclaim our power, and when we do, Optimus Prime will fall.”

Soundwave, who had been silent throughout the conversation, finally tilted his head slightly, his visor flickering with data as he sent out the order to the troops. No matter how strange the command, they had no choice but to follow Megatron’s orders and hunt down the girl who had unwittingly become the most valuable prize in the war for Cybertron.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Nova sat back in Smokescreen’s seat as they drove, folding her hands across her eyes and stretching out her weary legs as much as she could. Optimus’ comforting presence was gone, and without his even temper to anchor her, Nova’s mind was left to wander into dark, troubling places. It felt like she was groping for a light switch and couldn't even find the wall.

What good am I now?  

Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor, a restless energy building inside her that had nowhere to go. 

What if I can’t fight anymore? What if I’m just dead weight?  

Dead. Why am I not dead? 

Why am I here? 

What’s going to happen to me?

The sharp questions gnawed at her like tiny little termites. Her fingers curled into fists as they rested atop her sockets, nails digging into her palms until the sting became a small, grounding pain.

“Hey, cheer up,” Smokescreen said. “You wanna listen to the radio?”

Nova didn’t respond right away, uncovering her eyes slowly. Her headache hadn’t exactly put her in the mood for pep talks, and more than that, she could tell Smokescreen wasn’t himself.

She glanced out the window at the Autobots ahead, their forms silhouetted against the setting sun, and then back at Smokescreen’s steering wheel. The Autobot symbol glared solemnly at her. 

You really think you deserve to wear that mark? Who do you think you are? Who are you? 

All of a sudden, Nova decided that she had a desperate need to hear someone else’s voice, even an annoying one. 

“What chance?” she asked abruptly.

“Huh?” Smokescreen replied, caught off guard.

“You said you missed your chance to be great,” she clarified, turning her head toward the dashboard.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “That.” 

“Yeah, that.” She frowned. “What happened in that cave?”

Smokescreen snorted. “I mean, we all made it out alive. Does it really matter?”

“It matters to me,” Nova said firmly, her tone leaving no room for avoidance. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Smokescreen insisted, too quickly. “I gave Optimus the Forge, and he repaired himself. That’s it.”

“Smokescreen,” Nova pressed, her voice tightening. “We were dying. I felt Optimus dying. He couldn’t have used the Forge in that condition. Now, what did he tell you to do?”

“I—” Smokescreen stammered, his voice trailing off. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“If you don’t tell me the truth right now, I will  be upset,” Nova snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “What did he ask you to do?”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Nova thought Smokescreen might refuse to answer. But then, with a heavy sigh, he began to speak, his voice devoid of its usual cheerfulness.

“He told me to take the Matrix,” Smokescreen confessed. “And become the new Prime.” 

Nova’s heart dropped as his words hit her. 

“What?”

“He told me to use the last of the Forge’s energy to restore Cybertron.” He paused, and Nova could hear the strain in his voice. “But I really — it just felt really wrong.”

Nova’s hands tightened into fists. 

He… wanted to die?

The thought alone felt like a betrayal, but it also filled her with a deep, searing terror. Optimus, her protector, the unshakeable one, had come within a whisper of dying. And Smokescreen… if he hadn’t made that call… she would have never seen Optimus again.

“Why didn’t you take it?” Nova asked softly.

“I don’t really know,” Smokescreen admitted. “If I’m being honest, for a second, I wanted to take it. But then I saw you, lying there, and realized how hard you were trying to keep him alive, and I knew things weren’t supposed to end that way.”

He tried to laugh. “I— I mean, there’s no need for a Prime if it isn’t Optimus, y’know? Me, a Prime. That would be … stupid.” 

“Yeah,” she murmured absently. 

“Anyway, I just … put the Forge in his hand, hoping it would do something,” he continued. “And then there was this huge explosion, and the next thing I knew, this ginormous guy was peeling me off the wall, telling me to take care of you while he was gone.” 

He tried unsuccessfully to sound cheerful again. “And after all that I’m still … the same old Smokescreen.”

Nova went over and over the scenario in her head. She had known Optimus was struggling, but she thought he was ready to fight death for as long as he had to. She never imagined he had been so close to giving up completely. And Smokescreen’s weird attitude since they escaped the cave made a ton of sense. The rookie had been carrying the weight of a regret he wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel. 

Nova stared at his steering wheel, the magnitude of what he had done sinking in. 

“You gave up your chance to be Prime,” she pondered aloud. “For him.”

“Yeah,” Smokescreen sighed, his tone subdued. “I guess I did.”

Nova fell silent, her thoughts churning. She had wanted the truth, but now that she had it, she wasn’t sure what to say. Smokescreen had been faced with an obvious choice to take up the highest calling Cybertron could offer. But instead of thinking about himself, he had chosen to forego his own glory to finish the one cause she had been fighting for.

“Smokescreen…” Nova began, her voice softened by a strange mix of admiration and sadness.

“I know, it’s not what Optimus wanted,” Smokescreen said quickly, misinterpreting her tone. “But I had to do it, Nova. I know I messed up, but I just couldn’t let him go. Not like that.”

“No,” she said quietly, the words surprising her as they left her mouth. “You didn’t mess up.”

He sighed. “Well I didn’t save Cybertron, that’s for sure.” 

“You may not have saved Cybertron, but you saved us,” she retorted. “And I don’t care what anyone else says. In my book, that was a fragging good choice.”

“I’m not super convinced.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “What I’m trying to say is … thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For being disobedient and stubborn and annoying, you idiot,” she said. “For not  giving up, even when some of us--” she thought of Optimus with a twinge of irritation, "--did."  

Smokescreen didn’t reply right away, but Nova could sense that her words had struck a chord. 

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” he joked. 

“Don’t get cute,” she snorted. “I’m still ticked off.” 

He laughed. “Aw, but you’re being so nice—”

“Shut up.” 

“Okay.” 

Spirits lifted, Smokescreen began to focus on driving once more, and the suffocating silence returned with a vengeance, pressing in on Nova from all sides. She stared out the window, but the scenery passed before listless eyes as her mind spiraled deeper than before.

Death was supposed to be better than this,  she thought, her chest tightening with the weight of it. 

Death.  

The very word hung over her like a guillotine, the edge poised to drop at any moment. She could still feel the cold presence of that horrible thing, how it had almost begged her to surrender, to let go of whatever terrible fate awaited her. 

Trembling, she pulled the adoption paper out of her pocket and began to knead it in her hands, over and over again. 

If dying would have been a mercy, then what was living? What kind of horror was she meant to face that would make nonexistence seem like a kinder option? What was she meant to suffer, what was so unbearable that even Death itself pitied her?

Ruthless dread clawed at her mind at the thought of her destiny — destiny! what a horrible word. What a terrible burden, to have a fate set in stone, a fate feared by the darkest forces in the universe, a fate that she still did not know. 

She rubbed her arms. Her armor was gone. She was defenseless. 

Useless. Pathetic. Weak. 

The words echoed in her mind, sharp as a knife. Nova had always felt the need to fight, to be strong, to be angry, like a warrior, but now, what was she? A fragile, crying child, trapped in a war of metal and fire that was far beyond her capacity to join.

Optimus gave up. I should have given up. I should have died. 

Her breath quickened, her heart racing as the thoughts spiraled faster and faster, each one pulling her deeper into that dark pit. The silence in the car was like a vise around her chest, tightening until she thought she might scream just to break it.

I … I can. 

I can still die. 

It’s not too late. I can die right now.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she sucked in a sharp breath and sat up straight, forcing herself to shake off the suffocating thoughts. 

“Hey, you know what?” she said loudly, her voice cutting through the tense silence. “I do wanna listen to the radio.”

Smokescreen broke into a laugh. “You got it!”

His tuner dial spun, shuffling through several radio stations before landing on his favorite one, cranking it up slowly until the upbeat tempo and goofy lyrics filled the cab.

“…Lookin for some trouble tonight, 

Take my hand, I’ll show you the wild side

Like its the last night of our lives

We’ll keep dancing till we die!”

Nova had never heard the song in her life, but something about it tickled her brain just right, drowning out the chaotic noise in her head for a precious moment.

“I hear your heartbeat to the beat of the drums!

Oh what a shame that you came here with someone!”

“Wow.” She chortled in disbelief. “This song is ... so dumb.” 

“I know, right?” Smokescreen replied. “Isn’t Earth music great?” 

It was great. It was exactly what she needed. But it wasn’t enough. The fear was still there, like a vulture, ready to pick at her mind again.

Don't smile, wretch. You were never meant to be happy. Never. You’re a gunshot. You’re a vice. Sleep! Die! 

“Turn it up!” She cried. 

“Okay!” he shouted, cranking the volume even higher. The music blasted through the speakers, and he rolled down the windows, letting the cool evening air rush in. 

“So while you’re here in my arms

Let’s make the most of the night, like we’re gonna die young!

We’re gonna die young!”

As the volume crawled higher, Nova spotted a flash of yellow in the rearview mirror as a familiar Camaro slipped into the next lane and pulled up alongside them. Smokescreen laughed again, his voice full of that infectious energy she usually found so annoying.

“Hey, it’s Bee!”

“He wants to pass,” Nova remarked, pushing her flailing hair out of her eyes. 

“He wants to race !” Smokescreen whooped. 

Sure enough, Bumblebee cruised alongside them for a few seconds, playfully revving his engine before he surged ahead. Smokescreen’s laughter lit up the world, and for a brief moment, Nova could feel his old, reckless joy breaking through.

“Oh, it’s on!” he declared, the thrill of competition sending his engine into a roar.

Nova clutched the safety handle on the doorframe, sensing what he was about to do. 

“No!” she cried, her voice tinged with a giggle. 

“Let’s go!” Smokescreen shouted. With a flick of the wheel, he threw the car into a perfect drift, the world spinning around them as they curled around Bumblebee with a teasing flash of lights and took the lead.

“So while you’re here in my arms 

Let’s make the most of the night, like we’re gonna die young!”

“You big moron!” Nova yelled, her knuckles turning white, but for the first time in a long while, the pressure in her chest lessened. She could lose herself in this, in the speed, in the noise, in the sheer, stupid joy of the moment.

“We’re gonna die young! 

We’re gonna die young!

Let’s make the most of the night 

Like we’re gonna die young!”

Their lives weren’t anywhere close to being perfect, but Smokescreen had never heard Nova laugh so hard or so loud as she did in that moment, her worries forgotten as they tore down the road. For a brief, shining moment, there was no fear, no anger, no regret—just the pure, wild joy of being alive.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The convoy of Autobots rolled into the military compound under the cover of night, their headlights sweeping across the deserted asphalt as they searched for the hangar that Fowler had arranged for them.

The tension of the day still hung in the air, and everyone was weary, eager to rest, eager to finally let their guard down. As soon as Smokescreen parked, Nova climbed out, rubbing her tired eyes with a deep yawn. But before she could take two steps, she was ambushed.

“Nova!” Miko’s voice rang out, followed by the pounding of feet as she and Raf came running toward her. Jack and Agent Fowler weren’t far behind.

Before Nova could react, Miko and Raf threw their arms around her in a tight hug, nearly knocking her off balance.

“You’re okay!” Miko exclaimed, her voice full of relief. 

“We missed you so much,” Raf added, squeezing her waist.

Jack clapped her on the back, and Fowler pumped her hand in an enthusiastic handshake. “It’s great to see you, kid!”

Nova, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, stiffened like a board. She wasn’t used to this—being the center of attention, being thanked, being touched. She tried to force a smile, and bore it all without lashing out until, finally, they let go, and she could breathe again.

“Where’s your armor?” Miko demanded. “Did you get an upgrade, too?”

“Uh,” Nova faltered. “I’m … not gonna wear it for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” Jack asked. “You always wear it.” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m just really tired. It gets … heavy.” 

June placed a hand on her chest as she looked around at all of them. 

“I’m just so glad you’re all okay,” she breathed, reaching for her son with tears in her eyes. 

“Well, why're we all standing out here?” Fowler asked with a grin, gesturing toward the hangar. "We got pizza inside!"

At the mention of food, the kids bolted for the doors, eager to eat after such a long couple of days. The Autobots followed more slowly, their footsteps heavy as they made their way into their new home.

Wheeljack glanced around as they entered, taking in the sight of the quiet military base. “Any chance there’s something for us to eat too?” he asked, more in jest than in hope. “Starscream didn’t exactly offer refreshments while he was on his torture spiel.” 

“Ratchet said he found a few cubes in the Harbinger,” Arcee replied dryly. “Guess we’ll have to make do with that.”

Nova’s stomach growled quietly as they talked, and she placed a hand over it, realizing just how hungry she was. The kids had their pizza, but that wouldn't be enough to satisfy the supercharged black hole she had in her guts. She could only hope that there would be some Energon left over for her.

A strong gust of air and the scent of burning fuel made her glance up as Optimus Prime descended from above. He touched down lightly despite his massive frame, his jetpack retracting as he approached the group. Nova pretended not to notice.

“Nova,” he called to her, his voice as steady as ever.

Sullenly, she turned away, focusing on the floor as if it held some great secret.

Optimus hesitated, noticing her avoidance. He crouched down, bringing himself closer to her level. “Nova, are you alright?”

She shrugged, still not meeting his gaze. 

“Sure,” she mumbled.

The Prime tilted his head, his large hand resting on the ground beside her. “If something is troubling you, I would like to know it,” he offered gently.

Nova gave another half-hearted shrug, her eyes darting away. 

“Maybe later,” she deflected, her tone flat.

Optimus’s optics softened with understanding. He knew there was more she wasn’t saying, but he wouldn’t push her—not now. 

“I will be here when you are ready,” he said quietly, straightening up.

As they all entered the hangar, the kids were already squabbling over the pizza, their laughter and arguments echoing off the metal walls. The hangar was far from ideal—just a large, glorified garage with minimal furnishings—but it was clean, and there was enough room for everyone to stand comfortably. The technology was outdated but functional, and for now, it would all do nicely. 

Ratchet had already begun handing out the meager Energon rations, his expression serious as he counted out three cubes. “We’ll have to share these, so make it last.”

Bumblebee took his cube and nudged Smokescreen, offering to share it with a friendly buzz. Smokescreen accepted a few sips with a grateful nod, though his usual enthusiasm was somewhat dimmed. Bulkhead tried to smile as he split his cube with Ultra Magnus, who accepted his portion with a stiff nod. Wheeljack took one deep swig of his cube and handed the rest of it to Arcee, who smirked back at him while he feigned cool disinterest in the entire affair.

Finally, Ratchet approached Nova, carefully pouring out a Cybertronian thimbleful of Energon from his own cube. 

“Here you go,” he said, his gruff voice softening as he handed it down to her. 

Nova accepted the container with a small nod. 

“Thanks, old man,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the others. She held the container close, looking down at the familiar blue glow. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t need much, and even this little amount would keep her running for quite a few days.

“How are you feeling?” The medic asked. 

“Fine.”

“You’re not wearing your armor,” he noticed. “And you’re… bleeding.” 

Nova clapped a hand to the base of her skull, trying to cover up the wound the inhibitor had left. 

“I’m just tired,” she insisted. 

He gave her a doubtful glance, eyes drawn to the dried streaks of Energon on her neck. 

“I’ll look you and Optimus over more thoroughly in the morning,” he said at last. 

“But—”

He raised a hand before she could protest. “No buts except yours on the table tomorrow. I mean it.”

She sighed. “Okay.”  

Satisfied, Ratchet left to check on the others. Wheeljack’s comment about being tortured had not gone unnoticed. 

As Nova sipped the Energon, she glanced over at Optimus, who was quietly overseeing the group, his presence a steadying force even when he wasn’t directly involved. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything that was eating away at her, but the words caught in her throat. For now, she kept her distance, letting the weight of the day slowly lift as the familiar sounds of camaraderie filled the air.

Before the kids could dash off to explore their new surroundings, Agent Fowler called everyone together, climbing up to the central platform.

Nova stood awkwardly off to the side, clutching her small cup of Energon. She wasn’t used to standing on the floor at these meetings. Optimus had always held her, and she had always wanted to be held. But not tonight. 

Fowler stepped forward, his expression solemn as he looked around at the gathered Autobots. The faint hum of machinery and the distant sounds of the night filled the air, but all eyes were on him.

“On behalf of the President and the Joint Chiefs,” he began, “I thank you all for your selfless heroism in defense of this planet. I am only sorry that the world cannot yet know of your undying dedication… because I, for one, owe you my life, my liberty, and my future.”

Fowler snapped a hand to his brow in a crisp salute. The gesture, simple as it was, carried the weight of deep respect. Optimus returned the salutation with a grave nod.

Ultra Magnus stepped forward once the exchange was over. His posture was as rigid as ever, a reflection of the military discipline that guided every aspect of his life.

“Sir,” he addressed Optimus, his voice formal and respectful, “I am honored to relinquish command of the Autobots to you.”

Optimus turned to the newcomer, his expression softening as he attempted to ease the formality between them. “Welcome to Earth, Ultra Magnus,” he said kindly, his tone warm. “And welcome to Team Prime.”

Before Magnus could respond, a loud voice cut through the air. 

“Okay, someone’s gotta say it,” Miko shouted from the floor. “Optimus 2.0 is rad!” 

She turned to Ratchet, with a teasing smile. “Imagine what the Forge could do for your  bod.”

“Pffgh. Well,” Ratchet scoffed, rolling his optics as he glanced at the now-lifeless Forge in the corner of the hangar. “Is it true that the Forge has been drained of its power, and any hope of rebuilding the Omega Lock has truly been lost?”

Smokescreen, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. 

“I … did what I felt was right,” he said firmly, looking down at the floor. 

Ratchet turned to him, placing a proud hand on his shoulder. “And your instincts have once again proven to be quite sound,” he said softly.

Still nursing her Energon, Nova watched the scene unfold in silence, but Optimus noticed her isolation.

Because of course he did. 

“Autobots, I am truly grateful for all you have done,” Optimus said, addressing them all, but his optics lingered on Nova. “Each of you has played a vital role in our victory today. If anyone needs anything, please let myself or Agent Fowler know.”

Nova shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her Energon. The liquid glowed faintly in the cup, but she found no comfort in its sharp taste. Of course she needed something. She needed to cry, to yell, to rage, to ask him why he had almost left her behind.

But she couldn’t. Without her armor there to shield her, without Optimus there to know her, dwelling upon such things would only breed ... weakness.

With a frown, Nova finished off her cube and set it on the stairs, stalking off to claim a room with a lock on the door. Something told her sleep would not come easily tonight. 

Chapter Text

Nova woke with a jolt from her latest attempt at sleep, her body drenched in sweat. Her eyes shot open, but she couldn’t see anything, and for a moment, her foggy mind concluded that she was still in the cave. 

“Help!” she yelled, rolling out of bed as the blanket tangled in her limbs.

She hit the ground with a thud, her cheek pressing into cold metal. 

“Ow,” she groaned. 

It took a few seconds, but the memory of the past few days came flooding back as she lay there, and she huffed a sigh against the cold floor.  

I’m done. 

Getting sluggishly to her feet, Nova steadied herself against the wall, her fingers brushing the cold metal as she reached for the door and went out. Blinking in the soft light, she dragged herself through the unfamiliar corridors, her legs shaking a little from disuse. The halls were silent, disturbed only by the sound of her own shuffling steps.

Her hands fumbled along the walls as she staggered through the darkened base. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to move forward, to find something to distract herself.

After a few seconds, her stomach gurgled, and she glanced down. 

Man, I’m starving. 

Finally, a faint light caught her eye at the end of the corridor. She followed it, the glow leading her to the main hangar.

Ratchet was hunched over his workbench, tinkering with something, but he turned at the sound of her crashing clumsily into the doorframe.

"Morning," he greeted her.

"Mmm," she mumbled noncommittally, rubbing her eyes.

"Up early, are we?" Ratchet frowned as he straightened. 

She shrugged.

“I suppose my work might have been too loud,” he murmured. “Sorry about that.”

Her gaze wandered to the new Groundbridge tunnel taking shape in the corner. 

"You did all this in one night?" she croaked.

“Still a ways to go,” the medic sighed. “But we’ll test it shortly.”

Nova stifled a yawn. Ratchet noticed. 

“If you want coffee, I think Agent Fowler has some in his office,” he pointed.

“Coffee tastes bad,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Do we have any more Energon?”

“I’m afraid not. But Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack are going to search our old base for reserves soon, if the Groundbridge works.”

Nova nodded faintly, disappointment sinking in. 

“Where’s Optimus?” she asked suddenly, trying to distract herself from the uncomfortable gnaw in her stomach.

“Scanning a new vehicle mode Agent Fowler brought over. I'm not sure he'll be able to join us in time.”

She frowned uneasily. “In time for what?”

“You know what.” Ratchet wiped his hands on a rag, setting his tools down. “Are you ready?”

Nova let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand down her face. 

“Fine,” she muttered at last. “Let’s just get this over with.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Like everything in Hangar E, the new medical bay was much smaller than the old one. It was only equipped with what few instruments Ratchet could salvage from the Harbinger, but it was spotless nonetheless. She could tell Ratchet had spent hours setting everything up.

As she glanced around, Nova noticed a small stack of medical textbooks in the corner. Apparently, Ratchet had also found time to brush up on human anatomy. Nova wasn’t quite sure if that was comforting or alarming. 

Ratchet allowed her to climb up onto the table herself before running a scanner over her body.

"Any pain?" he asked.

"No. It went away when Optimus got repaired."

He nodded, eyes on the screen.

"Your inhibitor is gone," he observed. "It must have overloaded in the explosion.”

“I guess so.”

“Well, you two sustained the full force of a particle fusion blast. There’s no two ways about it,” Ratchet remarked, glancing over the results with a slight frown. “You two should have died.” 

Nova smiled wryly. “Sorry to disappoint you, old man.” 

“Funny,” he snarked, taking her arm gently in his fingers as he inspected her body. “Have you noticed anything different since the inhibitor broke?"

Nova glanced down, feeling a lump form in her throat. 

"I can’t sense his thoughts anymore," she admitted quietly.

"That’s because your bond is purely physical again, like it was before,” Ratchet explained, turning to the workbench and rifling through his scattered tools. “I don’t expect Optimus will feel much bodily pain in his new form, but I made you a new inhibitor last night—if you want to try it."

Nova blinked, surprised. How long had he been working?

"I won’t do it unless you want me to," he added, holding up the little screw.

After a moment of hesitation, she dropped her gaze with a shrug. "I guess… we could try."

"It won’t hurt," Ratchet reassured her. He raised the implant to her neck, preparing to insert it at the base of her skull where the last one had been. But the moment it touched her skin, a surge of electricity jolted through her body. Ratchet’s equipment sparked as she cried out in pain.

“What the—” he glanced at the fizzling computer. 

Nova clapped a hand to her neck. 

"I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt!" she snapped.

"It shouldn’t!” Ratchet protested, glancing from his equipment to her. “It didn’t do this last time."

"I was unconscious last time!"

"Fair point. Do you want me to try again?"

Nova gritted her teeth, fighting through the lingering pain. "Do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Just hurry up."

Ratchet hesitated before lowering it to her neck again. This time, the shock was even worse. Nova’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the table, and her muscles seized painfully as another burning surge leapt from her torso. Some of the computers began to short-circuit.

"Gah! Stop!" she cried at last, her chest heaving. “Stop.”

Ratchet stepped back, his brow furrowed. "Your body’s rejecting it for some reason."

"Forget it," she growled, her frustration mounting. "Are we done here?"

"Not quite." Ratchet’s tone grew serious. "There’s something else we need to discuss."

"What now?" she asked, her voice weary.

"The cybermatter in your spine seems to have spread to your entire skeleton,” Ratchet said, turning one of the computers so she could see the static-laced screen. “I wasn’t sure that the energy of the Forge would affect you, but your bones seem to be in optimal condition."

“Remind me what cybermatter is,” Nova sighed, twisting her head to relieve the lingering sting in her neck. 

"If I had to compare it to something human," Ratchet mused, flipping through one of the tiny textbooks, "I’d say cybermatter is like stem cells."

Nova just stared at him blankly. 

"It’s living metal, just like us, but it lacks specific programming,” he explained, shutting the book. “As you grow, it can adapt to heal, build, repair, or consume — whatever is required. In your case, it is being used as protective armor."

She stared down at her hands. "Is it … valuable?"

Ratchet’s voice dropped to a cautious tone. "Let’s just say it would be very dangerous if certain Decepticons knew it was in your body."

Nova swallowed, her gaze lowering. 

They probably all know, she thought.

"And that brings me to my last question," Ratchet continued, his tone shifting back to a more clinical concern. "If the cybermatter is spreading so well, why aren’t you wearing your armor?"

"'Cause I’m tired," Nova lied.

"Your armor is a reflex,” Ratchet countered. "Just like transforming is for us. Even when you’re exhausted, you should still be able to activate it.” 

He took a seat on a couple of crates, descending to her eye level. 

“It’s not working, is it?" he asked softly.

Nova’s shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I tried all night, okay?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” 

“You haven’t been able to use it at all?” 

She shook her head, kneading her cold hands together.  

After a moment of thought, Ratchet began to rise, but Nova reached out, grabbing his finger with sudden desperation. 

"Don’t tell Optimus," she pleaded. 

“Nova…"

“Please, Ratchet.”

Ratchet studied her in silence for a moment, his expression softening. He had always been stern, but by now Nova knew how much of a softie he really was. Finally, he let out a slow sigh, setting his tools aside.

"Nova," he began, his voice gentler now, "I’m not going to lie to Optimus. But I won’t tell him anything unless it becomes necessary."

Nova’s heart sank, but she didn’t argue.

“Why isn’t it working?” She asked softly. 

Ratchet stood and began pacing, thinking through the situation. "Maybe it’s something psychological... or perhaps your body isn’t quite up to the task yet."

Nova ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I’m not weak."

"I didn’t say you were," he replied gently. "But your armor is a part of your body, and your body’s been through a lot. Its function might very well be hampered by something as simple as your mental state. Only time will tell."

Nova remained silent, her mind spinning. She didn’t want to face the possibility that something inside her was breaking down, especially something she relied on so much.

Ratchet’s gaze softened. "We've all been where you are, Nova. Healing is tough. But you need to be honest with yourself — and with Optimus — when the time comes."

"I cant." Nova looked away, biting her lip. "I - I don’t want him to think I’m useless."

“Now, now,” the medic said briskly. “That kind of talk is the reason I burned through three canisters of Synth-En and almost lost the war for us. Was that smart or stupid?” 

She glanced up at him guiltily. “Pretty stupid.” 

"Yes, it was," Ratchet said. “You know Optimus loves each of us no matter how useless we are.” 

As Nova contemplated this, Ratchet rifled through his supply box. “But I won’t withhold your freedom any longer. Here you go.” 

Ratchet held out a clean rag, and she stared at it with confusion.

"What's this?" she asked, taking it from him.

"A towel," Ratchet replied matter-of-factly. "Agent Fowler said the showers are in the building directly across from us."

Nova blinked, still unsure where this was going.

"Go wash the blood off your face and the ashes out of your hair," Ratchet added. “You’ll feel better.” 

"Ashes?" Nova’s brow furrowed.

"Yes," he said, glancing at her hair. “It looks white in places. Run along, now."

He shooed her toward the drill pad, leaving Nova baffled as she stood in the crisp night air. 

Ashes? she thought, frowning. Smokescreen had his windows down the whole way back... She shrugged to herself, feeling exhausted. Oh well. I don’t understand anything anymore.

She stole across the drill pad under the waning moonlight, creeping into the bathrooms without a sound. She had no idea if the military knew that there were civilians running around their air strip, but it would probably be best not to draw any attention. 

Hanging up her jumpsuit, Nova stepped into the utilitarian shower stall, the sound of the shower a soothing hiss against the silence. The warm water hit her skin, and for a moment, she just stood there, eyes closed, enjoying it. 

Everything from the past few days seemed so distant now — the battle at the Omega Lock, breathing the air of an alien world, saying goodbye to Optimus, the darkness of the cave — it all suddenly didn’t seem so important. As for that pale figure that had seemed so terrifying in her dying moments, well! She had almost forgotten him entirely. 

Nova chuckled quietly. “I can’t believe I thought that was real.” 

Death had truly been a nightmare, but that was all he was, and she was happy to let the whole thing wash away like the grime that ran off her skin.

For a moment, it was just her and the sound of the water, a reprieve from the relentless anxiety gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Ratchet was right. I do feel better. 

Once she finished, Nova stepped out and dried off, only to be greeted by the sight of Miko doing her makeup in front of a cracked bathroom mirror.

“Hey! There you are!" Miko chirped, her face bright. "You won’t believe everything that’s happened! There was this huge dragon, and Wheeljack had to blow up a mine, and this guy Shockwave showed up — oh! And we got to tear up the Harbinger — but Ratchet wouldn’t let me go to Darkmount and fight the Cons, though. And I camped out with Bulkhead for, like, three days. I couldn’t even use my phone, it was insane!"

Nova sighed, pulling on her jumpsuit and rubbing her wet hair with the towel as Miko rambled on. She barely registered half of what was being said. But suddenly, Miko cut herself off with a gasp. 

“No way,” Miko breathed. 

Nova looked up, confused. The girl was staring at her. 

“What?” Nova frowned, glancing over her shoulder to see what had caught Miko’s attention. “What is it?” 

There was nothing to see but the usual dull reflection of the bathroom wall.

“It’s so sick,” Miko squealed, practically bouncing. “It’s awesome!”

Bewildered, Nova turned back around. “What’s awesome?”

“Dude, come here!” Miko grabbed her arm, dragging her toward one of the tiny mirrors before she could protest. Nova reluctantly followed, her feet shuffling across the floor, still unsure what this was all about.

When she finally looked into the mirror, her blood ran cold.

Staring back at her was a pale, pathetic figure — a drowned rat of a person. But worst of all, as she stared at herself, Nova finally understood why Ratchet had talked so much about ashes. To her horror, slightly off center from the middle of her forehead, there was a stark white streak cutting through her dark brown hair.

Exactly where Death had kissed her.

“Look!” Miko exclaimed, grinning ear to ear as she compared Nova’s white lock with her own pink bangs. “We totally match!”

Nova’s heart stuttered as she stared at her reflection. Her hand rose slowly, fingers trembling as they grazed the white lock. Her breath caught in her throat. 

It wasn’t a dream. 

It was real.

“Oh, no,” she whispered to herself. “No, no, no…” 

She could still hear his voice from that awful night, telling her to give up, to let go. That whatever was coming was worse than she could imagine.

You were supposed to die.

The memory hit her all over again; the sleepy sensation of her life draining away, the cold fingers of death wrapping around her beating heart. The darkness was creeping in, reaching for her, wrapping her in a shroud. There was nothing she could do, no armor to protect her, no Optimus to save her. She was going to die—

“Hey,” Miko’s cautious voice cut through the fog, bringing her back to reality. “Are you good?”

Nova let her hand fall from her hair, sucking in a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she said shakily. “It just … looks so weird.” 

“Well, I think it rocks.” Miko raised her cellphone to take a selfie. “Say cheese!”

But as the girl snapped the photo, Nova could only stare at her ghostly face in the tiny phone screen, trying to comprehend the streak of white that was now forever part of her.

What does it mean?

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

By the time the girls had finished cleaning up and returned to the hangar, Optimus was long gone, and Ratchet was in the middle of testing the Groundbridge with Raf. 

Miko skipped up the stairs to join Jack by Agent Fowler’s office; presumably to try and con her way into having a cup of coffee. Per Bulkhead’s strict instructions, no one was allowed to give Miko coffee. 

Nova tossed her towel in her room before approaching Ratchet by the Groundbridge terminal. “How’s it going?”

“Quite well, so far,” he answered, eyes fixed on the computer. “They got to the other side without any problems, but we’ll see what happens on the return trip.”

Nova looked around. Most of the others were coming out of recharge, sluggish from the lack of Energon, but even with Miko around, the base seemed too quiet.

“Where’s Smokescreen?” she asked. 

Ratchet shrugged. “His life signal is steady, and we haven’t seen any alerts. I don’t know where he is, and I’m not complaining.” 

“Hey, Doc, we’re ready for pickup,” Wheeljack’s voice clipped in through the comms. 

“I keep telling him not to call me that,” the medic muttered, pulling down a few levers. 

Nova smiled a little. “Nicknames getting on your nerves, old man?” 

“Glad to see your sense of humor survived the explosion.” Ratchet raised his voice. “Everyone stay clear, we’re preparing to bridge. Raf, keep an eye on those vectors.”

Raf gave a thumbs-up from his laptop. 

In another few seconds, the GroundBridge bloomed in the tunnel, looking exactly the way Nova remembered it. Ratchet had done a phenomenal job.

“Return trajectory fluctuations have been stabilized,” Raf reported over the comms.

“Ultra Magnus, we are ready to receive you,” Ratchet commed, pulling down the last lever.

A moment later, a blue big rig drove through the vortex. Bumblebee unloaded a single cube of Energon, and Ultra Magnus transformed, his face as stoic as ever. 

Nova stared at the lone cube with a sinking heart. 

“Is that it?” she asked. They’d all have to share again, and some would likely have to go without.

“We didn’t find much else in the rubble of the old base,” Ultra Magnus responded, his tone clipped.

Before anyone could reply, Wheeljack emerged from the GroundBridge with a grin plastered across his face, holding up an enormous chunk of rounded scrap metal. 

“You call this not much else?” he cried, hurling the metal ball toward Bulkhead.

Bulkhead wasn’t ready. The ball bounced off his broad chest and flew straight for the railing where Jack and Miko stood.

Reacting quickly, Jack grabbed Miko and dove to the ground just as the heavy metal smashed into Agent Fowler’s office door.

Nova sprinted up the stairs and knelt beside the kids. “Are you two okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Jack nodded, helping Miko to her feet. 

“Wheeljack!” Ratchet snapped. “You could’ve caused serious damage!”

“To me!” Miko added, hands firmly planted on her hips.

The splintered office door creaked open, and a second later, Fowler’s muffled voice called out from behind the ball. "Uh, a little help, here?" 

“Sure.” Jack put his shoulder to the ball and threw his weight against it, but it hardly moved.

“This thing’s heavy,” he grunted. 

“No, it’s not! Watch.” Miko joined in, trying to lift it with him, but their efforts were useless. 

“I got this.” Nova stepped forward, rolling her shoulder as she knelt beside the warped metal. This should be easy. 

But when she tried to move it, it wouldn’t budge.

The frag? she thought, gritting her teeth and trying again. Her leg muscles strained, but the ball stayed rooted in place.

Frustrated, she stepped back and stared at the ball, hands cocked on her hips. 

“Too heavy?” Jack asked. 

“What if we all tried?” Miko offered. 

Nova just shook her head. She was used to lifting entire Energon cubes all by herself. This should have been a piece of cake.

The background arguments didn’t help her focus.

"What were you thinking, soldier?" Ultra Magnus demanded, glaring at Wheeljack.

"I was thinking Bulk could catch that lob," Wheeljack replied casually.

"As Optimus Prime’s second-in-command, I will not tolerate Wrecker behavior on this team," Ultra Magnus growled.

Wheeljack paused, as if considering how much trouble he wanted to get into today. 

"Some things never change," he muttered, giving the commander a sidelong glance.

"Jackie," Bulkhead warned softly.

But Ultra Magnus was far from done. "Need I remind you, it was Optimus Prime who assigned me to command your Wreckers back on Cybertron and get you loose cannons under control?"

Wheeljack's jaw tightened. The word control wasn’t exactly one of his favorites, and everyone on the team knew he didn’t subscribe to secondhand respect. 

“An effective combat unit begins with discipline,” Magnus continued. “And if you can’t accept that, then feel free to choose the path of least resistance, as you did before.”

Wheeljack shot Ultra Magnus a defiant glare. “If my ship weren’t a twisted wreck right now, I’d do that … sir.” 

With that, he stalked off, the others parting to let him through.

Magnus squared his shoulders, his brief annoyance fading back into stoic professionalism. “So, any word from Optimus?” he asked.

Ratchet nodded, unfazed by the altercation. “He’s investigating recent Decepticon activity. Hopefully, he’ll locate an Energon mine.”

Nova knelt by the heavy metal ball, bracing herself to lift it again. She had taken down Decepticons four times her size. Surely she could lift a stupid piece of scrap. Frowning, she set her feet and tried again, her muscles straining. It wouldn’t budge.

Come on, she thought angrily. This should be easy for you.

“Just tell Bulkhead to move it,” Miko suggested. 

“No!” Nova grunted. 

Gripping the ball harder, she threw herself into it with a growl, using every ounce of strength she had. Her legs trembled under the effort, but it was no use. The ball barely shifted.

Panic flickered in her chest as her hands shook, her grip beginning to fail. The same hands that had once taken down Decepticons with precision, the hands that had wielded weapons and fought alongside Optimus, now couldn’t complete this one simple task.

With a strangled cry, Nova threw her entire body into the effort. Slowly, painfully, the ball rolled just enough to clear the door. She stood up, panting and staring at her trembling hands. Her heart pounded, as if shifting the ball had been more difficult than carrying the fragging Taj Mahal.

What’s happening to me?

Fowler, disheveled but unharmed, stepped into the light. “Nice job, kid. Now, who’s the lead-muncher who almost gave me a dirt nap?”

“Woo! You did it!” Miko cheered.

Nova tried to catch her breath. 

Why was that so hard? she thought.

"Are we splitting the Energon again?" Arcee asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“I guess so,” Bulkhead shrugged. 

Nova turned around. “Can I have some, too?” 

"It’s still so crazy you can drink that stuff," Jack said. 

"What does Energon taste like?" Raf asked.

"Licking a battery," Nova replied. “It’s pretty good, actually.”

From across the room, Ultra Magnus’s cold gaze landed on her. He seemed to size her up, unimpressed. 

"Are we sure this civilian needs our rations?" he asked. "We can’t afford to waste resources."

The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone glanced at either each other or the floor, at anything but Nova, whose blood temperature rose a few dozen degrees as his words sank in.

“Waste?” she repeated lowly.

“Oh, boy…” Bulkhead groaned, burying his face in his hand. He could sense the storm coming, but before Nova could unleash her wrath, Ratchet swiftly intervened.

“Nova is part Cybertronian,” Ratchet explained with his usual calm authority. “She does need Energon, but only a small amount. Giving her rations will not hurt our stores, I’m sure.”

“I see.” Ultra Magnus considered this with a cool detachment. “Still, protocol doesn’t allow for civilian aid, unless Optimus Prime personally approves.”

Livid, Nova’s fists clenched. “Call me a civilian one more time—”

“Your lack of respect for authority,” Ultra Magnus interrupted her, “indicates a lack of proper military training. In other words, you are behaving like a civilian.”

Nova shook with rage, but before she could snap back, Ratchet spoke again, his voice steady. “You were not present for most of her wartime career, but Nova has proven herself a valuable ally, and she pulls her weight quite well.”

Ultra Magnus didn’t seem convinced, his eyes drifting to the heavy ball Nova had struggled to move just moments before. 

"Well, all full-fledged team members earn their rations through work,” he said, his voice as cold as ever. He gestured to the large pile of spent Energon cubes stacked in the corner. “You can start by stacking those until Optimus returns. If you can.”

Nova’s jaw tightened. She shot Ratchet a look of disbelief, silently begging him to step in again, but the medic just shook his head slightly, his expression urging her to comply.

“Fine,” she bit out, descending the staircase with a little less vigor than she had ascended it.

“What is the proper way to address a commanding officer?” Magnus asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs. 

She took in a breath.

 “Yes, sir,” she ground through her teeth. 

“That’ll do.”

With a sharp huff, Nova turned on her heel, marching past Ratchet with a fiery glare.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Nova’s muscles strained as she hefted the empty Energon cubes, one after the other. Hours had passed, but she hadn’t slowed down. She wouldn’t.

The sharp squeal of tires tearing through the hangar doors broke her concentration. She glanced up, watching as a sleek blue and gold race car skidded into the base.

"Smokescreen?" Arcee raised an eyebrow at the flashy entrance.

Smokescreen transformed, clearly disappointed that his new look hadn’t fooled anyone. 

"Aw, what gave me away?" he groaned.

Arcee and Bulkhead exchanged amused looks, both trying to suppress their laughter at the garish new paint job.

"Come on," Smokescreen grinned. "Robots in disguise, right?"

Before the teasing could continue, Ultra Magnus loomed over him, cutting the moment short with his stern presence. "Where have you been, soldier?" 

“Scanning new war paint," Smokescreen replied, still trying to keep it light. "Thought it’d be proactive to follow Optimus' lead. And Bumblebee's."

Ultra Magnus didn’t budge. 

"Well, now you can look your best while stacking those empty cubes," he said, pointing toward Nova’s task of shame.

Smokescreen’s excitement was instantly doused. 

Snapping to attention, he gave a quick, "Yes, sir," before turning away, shoulders slumped. 

As he passed, he muttered under his breath, "I was nearly a Prime, but somehow I’m still a rookie."

Ratchet, who had been busy at his workbench, glanced up at the comment. "What was that about a Prime?"

Smokescreen whipped around, stammering. "Uh—no, time! Time to stop … acting like a rookie." He gave an awkward laugh, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable, and Nova's sharp ears caught Smokescreen's words. Nearly a Prime? 

She shook her head softly. He must have felt it too—the sinking feeling of falling short, of suddenly not being enough. But at least he still had his strength.

"Hey," he said quietly as he joined her.

"Hey yourself," she retorted, dropping another cube with a heavy thud.

Smokescreen’s eyes landed on her for the first time, and widened slightly. "Whoa, you updated your paint job, too!"

“Huh?”

He pointed at her hair. 

"Oh. Yeah,” she muttered, pushing her sweat-drenched strands aside. “I don't... know how that happened.”

"And you're not the only one,” Smokescreen said, gesturing proudly to his bold new stripes. “Check it out! Cool, right?”

“So cool,” Nova rolled her eyes. “You better watch out, you're gonna get mobbed by chicks."

"Shut up."

"No, really, Cybertronian girls probably love the IKEA color scheme."

"You're just jealous you can't switch up your skin whenever you want," Smokescreen teased.

Nova raised an eyebrow.  "And you're just pretending to be happy after you got the wind sucked out of your sails.” 

"What, Magnus?" Smokescreen shrugged. "Yeah, I guess he’s a little... stiff."

"No, Ratchet is stiff," Nova retorted, thunderclouds forming on her brow. “Magnus was born in a freezer.”

"Yikes," Smokescreen hissed. “What’d he do?”

“Called me a civilian,” she seethed, stacking cubes with far more force than necessary. “Three times.”

Smokescreen gasped. "No."

"Yeah."

“Why?” He sounded genuinely baffled. "You’ve taken down more Cons than any human on this planet!"

"He doesn’t know that," Nova replied bitterly, setting down another cube with a thump. "But I wasn’t talking about Magnus getting you down."

Smokescreen blinked. "Then what were you talking about?"

"The other thing that’s bugging you," she said pointedly. "A certain promotion you gave up."

Smokescreen’s grin faded, and he glanced away. "Oh."

“Yeah.” Nova crossed her arms, staring him down. "You sore about it?"

"Me?" Smokescreen scoffed, trying to play it off. "Nah. I’m good."

“Right.”

"Really, I am," he insisted. "Pass me that cube."

Nova handed him one, watching him work. Her gaze softened just slightly as she caught sight of the frown he tried to hide.

"It's okay to want things," she said gently.

"Not this thing," Smokescreen shot back. “It’s not good to wish for something that would have killed your hero, is it?”

Folding her arms, Nova just stood there and waited for him to finish. 

“Look,” Smokescreen sighed. “I’m fine with not being a Prime. I am. I just..." He waved his hands in the air, fumbling for words. "You know..."

"No, I don’t," Nova replied bluntly.

He stopped working and sat back on his legs, his door-wings drooping a little. 

"What if I don’t become anything?" he murmured.

Nova narrowed her eyes, incredulous. “Huh?” 

"I mean..." Smokescreen hesitated. "I thought I was destined to be something great. But... what if I'm not?"

"Who cares if you’re not?” Nova shrugged. ”It doesn’t matter."

"Oh, come on," Smokescreen urged, clearly frustrated. "Don’t you want to be destined for something? Something special?"

“No,” she shot back. “Because what if it’s something bad?”

His jaw dropped. "Don’t you believe in destiny?" 

“Destiny is dumb," she scoffed. "And I don’t like mine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not crazy about mine either," Smokescreen sighed, returning to the cubes. "So much for turning out to be something, I guess.”

Nova hesitated, then glanced at him. 

"You already are something," she admitted reluctantly. “You saved our lives in that cave, so I guess you’re … my hero?”

With a wince, she took it back. “Oh, that was gross.”

Smokescreen’s face lit up in a broad smile. "What’d you say?"

"Forget it," she groaned, running a hand through her hair.

His grin only widened. "You like me!”

“Shut the frag up.”

“We’re gonna be best friends."

Nova turned away. “Just stack your cubes."

"I bet I stack more than you."

“You won’t.”

“Watch me.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Smokescreen and Nova had just finished their task when Optimus returned about half an hour later, carrying something in his hands.

“Did you find Energon?” Ratchet called from his computer.

“No,” Optimus replied, walking toward the large workbench in the center of the room. “But I did uncover this.”

He placed the object carefully on the table. Immediately, everyone gathered around to see. Even Wheeljack, who had been brooding in the corner, drew close.

“It can’t be,” Ratchet whispered, his optics wide with disbelief.

“Be what?” Jack asked from the walkway above.

“The ancient remains,” Optimus said gravely, “of a Predacon.”

“No way!” Miko exclaimed, glancing up at Bulkhead. “I wanna see!”

Bulkhead obliged, gently lifting her onto the table for a closer look. Nova stared at the workbench from the floor, craning her neck, but the table was too high for her to catch a glimpse.

Suddenly, she felt a soft nudge at her shoulder. Turning, she saw Optimus kneeling, his massive hand extended toward her. He was smiling, silently offering to move on from whatever she was holding against him.  

Out of habit, Nova reached out for him, but stopped stiffly. As she remembered what had almost happened in that blasted cave, her face grew hard, and her hand pulled back.  

Without a word, she turned and marched up the stairs to stand beside Jack, coldly ignoring the confusion in Optimus’ eyes. The Prime stood, clearly taken aback by her refusal, and watched her ascend the stairs with some sorrow.

From her new vantage point, Nova finally got a good look at the strange thing. At first glance, it looked like a large, twisted hunk of grey metal, but as she stared harder, the realization came to her. It was a skull. The skull of some massive, alien creature.

“Though it remains unclear why such a skull would be found on your planet,” Ratchet said, his tone grave, “its presence reveals more than enough about the Predacon Megatron sent to pursue us.”

“You mean that dragon-bot we froze?” Miko asked, eyes wide.

Nova blinked. Dragon?

She hadn’t realized Miko had been serious about seeing a dragon. Nova had no frame of reference for such creatures; her world had always been centered around military weapons, soldiers, war. She kept company with aliens, but the idea of mythical beasts still seemed laughable to her.

“It’s just that Predacons have been extinct since, well…” Ratchet trailed off, thinking back.

“Since before most life began on Cybertron,” Smokescreen finished.

“So they’re like Earth’s dinosaurs,” Raf said, connecting the dots.

Dinosaurs? Nova thought to herself, trying to register the word in her unschooled brain. What the frag are those?

“Which means,” Jack chimed in, “for you guys, running into one would be like us meeting a T-Rex.” He whistled, clearly impressed by the scale of it.

T-rex? Nova wondered. She had no idea what any of them were talking about, but the way they spoke about these "dinosaurs" made them sound like dangerous creatures.

“So, then, what were Dinobots?” Miko asked.

“Oh, totally different,” Bulkhead replied.

Nova had been listening in silence, her brow furrowed in confusion. The others spoke so easily about things she didn't understand, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to seem like an uninformed civilian, after all. 

“With Megatron’s newfound interest in excavating prehistoric skeletons,” Ratchet said, deep in thought, “and considering a certain scientist is back among the Decepticon ranks…”

“It stands to reason that Shockwave cloned the beast from one of these finds,” Optimus nodded, his expression grim.

Ultra Magnus put his hands on his hips. “And Megatron wants to clone another.” 

Nova’s first inclination, as always, was to conclude that this whole situation was very silly. She couldn’t understand why everyone seemed so afraid of these Predacons, whatever they were. Cybertronian attack dogs, perhaps?

But when she heard the word “cloned,” something in her clicked. Cloning she understood. Cloning made sense.

Wheeljack chimed in with a darker thought. “What makes you think ol' Buckethead would stop at just one?”

“We could have Beast Wars on our hands,” Bulkhead muttered.

Nova’s face twisted into a puzzled frown. They were back to strange terms again. Beast Wars?

“If Shockwave only needs a single strand of CNA to clone a Predacon…” Ratchet shook his head.

“Then he already possesses what he needs to engender this one,” Optimus confirmed. “Autobots, we must become beast hunters.”

Nova felt her unease growing. This was not the kind of war she was used to. Decepticons she could handle, but Cybertronian animals were another matter entirely. And the mention of Shockwave piqued her interest. She had never met him, but the revulsion in the others' voices as they discussed the scientist told her everything she needed to know. 

“One thing still doesn’t make sense,” Smokescreen chimed in, frowning thoughtfully. “Predacons went extinct on Cybertron. So what would their bones be doing here?”

Nova stared at the skeletal remains on the table, her mind churning. She didn’t know what any of this meant, but it felt far more sinister than anyone was letting on. To make matters worse, all this talk of cloning began to stir up unwanted things — things she didn't want to think about.

She finally spoke up, her voice a little shaky. “Ratchet, what’s a Predacon?”

The medic turned to his computer, bringing up a series of ancient images. 

 “From our historical texts,” he announced, stepping aside for her to see. 

The images on the screen displayed terrible creatures—huge, mechanical beasts with bat-like wings, long, barbed tails, and jagged teeth that looked sharp enough to tear through anything. Their glowing, burning eyes seethed with aggression, and their armored scales covered their enormous limbs like rows and rows of tight shields. Nova narrowed her eyes. 

“Those are monsters,” she said bluntly. “You didn’t tell me they were monsters.”

“Well,” Ratchet looked back at the screen. “I guess that is a better way to describe them.”

“They look like metal versions of creatures from our mythology,” Jack pointed out. 

“Yeah, dragons,” Miko reiterated. “Like I said.” 

“It would stand to reason,” Optimus interjected, “that Predacons did indeed walk upon this Earth in ancient times. It seems they became the basis for much of humankind’s mythology, illustrating once again that the pasts of Earth and Cybertron are inextricably linked.”

Nova barely heard them. She looked over the images in silence, her mind swirling with the revelation that creatures of fairy tales and legends were not only real, but also being used against them as weapons of war. 

“What can they do?” she asked. 

“Well, no one in recent history has seen a living Predacon,” Ratchet shrugged. “They could be capable of anything.” 

“They can fly,” Miko piped up. “And the one that chased us down could breathe fire!”

Fire, Nova pursed her lips. Well, why the frag not?

“So Shockwave... made these things?” she said at last.

“On Cybertron, Shockwave was infamous for dabbling in bioweaponry,” Ratchet answered, his voice heavy. “I believe he was responsible for outfitting Megatron in Kaon’s gladiator pits, long ago. At Megatron’s command, he’s engineered viruses, weapons, armies... and now, it seems, he’s unraveled the science behind cloning.”

Nova’s fingers tightened into fists, a wave of dread washing over her as her gaze shifted to the table. Judging by the size of that ashen skull, Predacons were many leagues bigger than anything she had ever met. These things weren’t just attack dogs she could dispatch with a few gunshots; these were colossal creatures that could level cities. Even if her armor was working, what could she possibly do against something that could kill her with a single swipe of its tail? 

I can’t compete in a war like this, she realized coldly. 

The thought made her feel even smaller.

“I can’t believe the story of Saint George and the dragon could’ve been real,” Jack scoffed. “How crazy is that?”

With clenched jaw, Nova slid down the stairs and hopped off of the railing, her boots hitting the floor sharply.  The voices of the others faded into the background as she made her way to the halls. Two hundred problems were still swirling in her head, but she shoved them all aside. She needed a distraction—anything to drown out the flood of worries gnawing at her mind. 

Stopping by her new room, Nova rummaged around in an old surplus box until she found a faded rag. She flicked it out and tied it around her head, tucking away the streak of white she didn’t want anyone to see. The last thing she needed was another reminder of a grand puzzle she couldn’t figure out. 

Rolling up her sleeves, she headed for the storage area where fresh Energon was kept. That was how she could help, wasn’t it? She could still move cubes.

Her stomach growled audibly at the sight of the blue glow, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten, but she promptly ignored it. Hunger would pass, and so would everything else in her head, if she worked hard enough. 

Burying her frustration in the task at hand, Nova seized the first cube, starting a new stack next to the highest one. She would have to build a staircase of sorts, and push one cube up after another. 

I can do it. She hoisted the container in her arms with a soft huff. I’m an Autobot, and Autobots can do anything. 

Though full, the cube wasn’t as heavy as the ball had been, and she felt a little better about herself for a few seconds. But then, the thoughts came. 

This is all you’re good for, now.

The thought hit her like a baseball bat to the knees.

Holy frag. Ultra Magnus was right.

Without the power she had once wielded, she was just a regular human. The months she had spent trying so hard to prove herself no longer mattered. All she had to show for her efforts was the pile of cubes she was stacking — a menial task for a once-capable warrior. Maybe she was fooling herself all this time, thinking she belonged here.

Useless. That’s what you are. 

Without her armor, she was nothing — no, less than nothing. Without her armor, she was a burden, and that hurt most of all. 

Nova’s hands shook as she pulled a fresh cube from the storage racks. The armor she had relied on for years was failing her, and she didn’t know why. She was … defective. 

The word “clone” again stirred in Nova’s mind, pulling her back to a memory she wished she could forget. She saw a dark lab, the sterile glass of a tube surrounding her. She still had no idea why she saw this so often, but she remembered it clearly: someone was staring down at her through a tube, studying her agony with clinical silence. The feeling of liquid draining from her lungs, the suffocating darkness, the sharp prick of needles... the first moments of consciousness she could truly remember.

A horrible thought came to her. What if I was cloned, too? The possibility twisted her guts upside down. She had always felt different—like something wasn’t quite right about her. What if, after all, she was not born, but only built?

Born to kill. Made to destroy. Wasn’t that what he told her? 

Don’t you believe in destiny?

Nova shoved the Energon cube onto the stack, trying to work against the whirlwind in her mind.

Her encounter with Death still haunted her. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl—the icy chill of his presence, the sorrowful way he had looked at her, like he knew how all this would end. Like he pitied her. She hated it. 

Should I have just… given up?

Frustration boiled in her chest as she grabbed another cube. 

She was still hurting from the bitter sting of Optimus’ sacrifice. How could he have given up on his life so easily? How could he think it was okay to just leave her behind? To pass her off to Smokescreen, like she was someone else’s problem?

Her hands began to tremble as she shoved the block onto the stack, her mind racing back to that awful darkness. He had given up on himself, and in some ways, it felt like he had given up on her too. Why wasn’t I enough to keep him fighting?

Struggling to keep her breath from unraveling, she kept stacking the cubes, working faster, harder, as if physical exhaustion would quiet the storm raging inside her. With each thud of a new block, her movements became a little more frantic, and the knot in her throat pulled a little tighter. Her eyes began to sting, washing the entire room in a dull blue glow. 

Her hands trembled as she reached for another cube, and suddenly, it slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. She stumbled back, chest heaving, and the sobs came soon after, breaking free from the dam she had failed to build. Nova sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking as she pressed her fists into her eyes, trying desperately to stop the tears. Tears streamed down her face, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to be this fragile, this broken, but everything felt so heavy, and no one could see her here. 

“I dunno what I’m gonna do,” she huffed. 

At long last, Nova collapsed onto the cube, burying her face in her arms as she let the sobs wrack her body.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

When Optimus found her, the room was dim, and the faint glow of the Energon cast long shadows across the floor. His gaze softened as he saw his little ward draped over a cube, fast asleep, her face streaked with dried tears. 

He knelt beside her.

“Nova,” he whispered.

She jolted awake, cheeks flaring with shame as she scrambled to her feet. “I’m awake!”

Optimus shook his head gently, cutting her off. 

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “We’ve detected Decepticon activity. I’m gathering the team to investigate.”

Nova stared at the floor, waiting for him to say more. He waited too, expecting her to jump at the chance to join the mission like she always did. But this time, she said nothing. 

“Do you not wish to accompany us?” he asked. 

She just shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No.”

Optimus paused, a flicker of concern crossing his face. He could sense something was wrong, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he nodded slowly, rising to his feet.

“We’ll be back soon,” he said.

He waited, expecting the usual. Normally, she’d insist on coming along, refusing to let him leave her behind. But instead of arguing, she just nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Optimus frowned, taken aback by her uncharacteristic response. 

“Ratchet is working on a formula for Synthetic Energon, if you wish to assist him,” he tried again, knowing she would find that extremely boring. 

“Okay,” she said softly. “Bye.” 

His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned to leave. “Goodbye, Nova.” 

Chapter Text

Ratchet looked up from his computer when he heard soft footsteps emerging from the storage bay. He decided against mentioning the red rims around Nova’s hardened eyes.

“I saved you some rations,” he said, handing down a small cup to her.

Nova took it with a bitter frown. “That plank of wood decided I was worthy enough to eat with you?”

Ratchet sighed. “That ‘plank of wood’ has been fighting alone for many eons, often going without food himself. He’s had to learn to be very frugal.”

Nova scoffed, taking a small sip from the cup. She was careful not to gulp it down too quickly, though the hunger gnawing at her made it hard to pace herself.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to be a jerk about it," she grumbled under her breath.

“Well… he hasn’t been given much reason to be anything else,” Ratchet said softly. “In his eyes, structure is the only way to survive. But he is strict, not cruel, and until he learns that there is more to life than protocol, I think it is best to humor him.”

Nova looked down at the cup in her hands, her expression darkening as old memories crept in.

"I don’t usually get along with people who order me to call them ‘sir,’” she muttered.

Ratchet turned to her, his tone more gentle. “Nova, I promise you, Ultra Magnus is nothing like Cylas. Give it time.”

"Whatever,” she sighed, finishing off the Energon in one swig. The warmth from it spread through her, dulling the sharp edge of her hunger but doing little for the rest of her tangled emotions.

"I came out here to see if you needed help,” she changed the subject, putting the cup back in his waiting hand.

Ratchet shook his head with a sigh. “Not unless you can find the missing piece of this formula. Synthetic Energon is one of the most unstable substances I’ve had the misfortune of working with.”

Nova’s eyes drifted to the data on the screen, but it meant little to her. Shoulders slumping, her face fell. Catching a glimpse of her downcast expression, Ratchet cleared his throat, understanding more than he let on.

“I do have a job for you,” he remarked as brightly as he could. “We haven’t had a chance to properly stock the base since we arrived, and, well … I’m not particularly skilled when it comes to human provisions.”

He took a small slip of paper carefully in his fingers and handed it to her. “It would be a great help if you could get some supplies for you and the others.”

Nova’s eyes widened slightly, her posture tensing as she took the list. “Me? Supplies? Like, in a store? With people ?”

“Yes,” he added dryly, “If you manage to bring back something that isn’t pizza, I think Nurse Darby would be especially appreciative.”

Nova glanced around the emptier base, scrambling for an alternative.

“Can’t the kids do it?” she asked. “Miko likes to go out. Where is she, anyway?”

“Getting sodas,” Jack called from the couch.

“Which is exactly why she’s not allowed on supply runs,” Ratchet said, giving Nova a knowing look. “I don’t need her buying more sugar and tearing the place apart.”

“Why can’t the boys go?” Nova protested weakly.

“I need Rafael monitoring communications while I continue the formula,” Ratchet explained. “And Jack is… well.”

“Providing tech support,” Jack added nonchalantly.

Nova shot him a glance. “You’re playing video games.”

Jack shrugged, not bothering to deny it.

 “With the Decepticons actively tracking the children’s phones, I’m not comfortable sending any of them out," Ratchet explained. "But if you keep your armor removed, you should go unnoticed by their sensors.”

Nova shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her upper arms. The very thought of it made her stomach twist.

“It’s not the Decepticons I’m worried about,” she muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” said Ratchet easily. “Believe it or not, most normal people are not out to get you.”

People. Normal people. The idea of being exposed around normal people ever again filled her with a quiet, simmering panic she didn’t dare show.

“Shopping,” she breathed, the word tasting foreign on her tongue. “By myself?”

Ratchet shrugged. “You have certainly been through worse.”

Nova felt her pulse quicken. She didn’t want to admit how the thought of stepping outside the base made her feel like a spindly wine glass under a hydraulic press. Without her armor, she couldn’t protect herself, couldn’t fight back. What if something happened?

“But I … I —“ she stammered, looking for an excuse. “I don’t know how.”

“You can comm us with any questions, and Rafael or Jack will be happy to walk you through it,” Ratchet said. “It’ll be fine.”

She clutched her arms tighter. “But—”

"Incoming GroundBridge request," Raf announced, glancing up at Ratchet. "From Scotland."

Ratchet nodded, and Raf quickly opened the portal. Only one green-and-white car came roaring through.

"Wheeljack, what happened?” Arcee asked, stepping forward with a furrowed brow. “Where are the others?”

Wheeljack rolled to a stop, transforming with an irritated sigh. “Havin’ a swell time takin’ the long way home in Ultra Magnus’ boat, I’m sure,” he grumbled. "Miko included."

"I wondered what was taking so long with those sodas," Raf hummed thoughtfully.

Ratchet turned away from the monitor, his expression sharp. "Did you secure the Predacon bone?"

Wheeljack’s face twisted sheepishly. "The, uh, Beast Hunt kinda imploded, Doc.”

Agent Fowler stepped out of his office, resting his hands on the railing. "Well, I just got wind of another Decepticon hotspot. Right outside of Tajos, New Mexico. Since Prime’s unit isn’t back from oil country yet..."

"Raf," Arcee interjected, turning to the boy at the central platform, "set a Bridge for Fowler’s coordinates. You—" she jerked her thumb at the Wrecker, “roll with me."

Wheeljack let out a weary sigh. "Not today, all right?"

"If you’re all right with sending me out there alone," Arcee retorted as she headed for the open GroundBridge.

"Alone’s how I prefer to roll," Wheeljack muttered with a frown.

"Wheeljack!" Ratchet snapped, his attention pulled away from his work. "You really don’t want to make me abandon a complex equation to venture outside my comfort zone.”

With a roll of his eyes, Wheeljack threw his hands up. “Ugh, fine. But in case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t play well with others."

The GroundBridge closed behind them, and Ratchet let out a small sigh, going back to his data.

Jack scoffed from the couch, mashing buttons on his controller. "What’s his problem?"

Ratchet didn’t even look up as he responded. "If I had to guess, I’d say he is suffering from twenty-four hours without a break from his old boss. Hopefully, fighting Decepticons with Arcee will be a good outlet for him.”

"Wow, uh, look at the time," Nova said, seizing the moment to slip away while Ratchet was distracted. “I gotta go finish my other chores…”

"Ah-ah!" Ratchet’s voice stopped her in her tracks. "Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little errand ."

Nova groaned, turning back reluctantly. "But, Ratchet—"

Before she could finish, the door to the base opened, and June Darby walked in.

What the frag is she doing here? Nova thought, startled. I thought she was on duty at the hospital.

"Hey, everyone," June greeted, making her way over to the couch and glancing at Jack’s game. "Nice shooting, Tex."

"Hey, Mom," Jack grinned. "What’s up?"

At the sight of June, Agent Fowler emerged from his office faster than you could say “Second Amendment.”

"Nurse Darby," he greeted her with a wide smile. "What brings you by?"

“The medical supplies you so graciously offered to donate,” June smiled warmly, folding her arms. “Which Jack keeps forgetting to bring home. The hospital appreciates your generosity, Agent Fowler."

"Please," Fowler said, puffing up with pride. "Call me William."

Jack shot a suspicious glance at Agent Fowler, and Nova exchanged a raised eyebrow with Raf. Something was definitely up with those two. Best to ignore it as quickly as possible.

"Uh... guys? I found a Predacon talon," Raf slowly chimed in, cutting through the awkward tension. "It’s in a museum.”

The others gathered around to take a look at the little picture of the talon on his computer.

“Scientists were totally stumped when they excavated it in 1922,” explained the boy, “so it’s been sitting in storage ever since."

"But we’re fresh outta Beast Hunters," Jack said, hopping over the couch to get a closer look at Raf’s screen.

Ratchet sighed, clearly reluctant but already mentally preparing himself. "I didn’t choose an emergency vehicle mode for laughs."

“I don’t think you need a bot,” Fowler said wryly, adjusting his tie.

"I can go get it," Nova offered quickly, hoping to avoid the errand Ratchet had planned for her.

"No," Ratchet said sternly.

"Maybe you should all just wait for Optimus," June suggested gently.

"I’ll have you know, Nurse Darby," Fowler interjected with a puffed chest, "I was an Army Ranger and a federal agent with Unit: E three decades before I even heard the name Optimus Prime! I’m more than equipped to handle a... milk run. In fact," he straightened his tie and held out a courteous hand. "why don’t you tag along?"

"Slick," Nova whispered to Raf. The boy giggled. 

June laughed softly, covering her mouth. "Oh, I don’t know about that..."

"Absolutely not," Jack cut in sharply. "Mom, I don’t want you anywhere near anything ‘Con. It’s not—"

"Safe?" June finished for him, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Is my teenage son really going to tell me it’s fine for him to travel all the way to Cybertron, but his mom can’t be trusted to handle a…?"

She paused, shooting a glance at Fowler.

"Milk run," Fowler whispered helpfully.

"A milk run?" she finished, leveling Jack with a glare.

"It’s just that you’re… you’re… lactose intolerant?” Jack fumbled. "Ratchet, can’t Nova go instead?"

"She cannot," Ratchet said, his voice full of finality. "I’m sending her on her own milk run, if you will."

"I don’t have money," Nova protested, scrambling for a way out.

"No problem, kid," Fowler said smoothly, pulling out his wallet and handing her a shiny government-issued card. “The pin is 1776. You can use this for all related expenses. Courtesy of Uncle Sam."

Nova frowned, staring down at the plastic card as if it were some kind of bug.

June shot her son a final haughty glance before linking her arm through Fowler’s with a smile. "Come on, Agent Fowler."

Nova’s face twisted into a pained wince as Raf opened the GroundBridge for Fowler and June. As the portal closed behind them, her anxiety surged.

“I can’t do this,” she said shortly.

“Yes, you can,” replied the medic. “You’re a capable soldier with several victories under your belt; you have nothing to worry about. Besides, you’re nearly an adult, and it’s high time you learned to get groceries.”

Nova spun around in a proper rage. “This isn't fair! Why are you benching me?" she seethed.

Ratchet glanced up from his work, his tone calm but firm. "I’m not benching you, Nova.”

“Oh, really?” she shot back. “Because that sure feels like what’s happening.”

“Extracting an artifact from a museum isn’t a simple matter,” he said. “It requires government authority, negotiation, and frankly, a lot of red tape. We both know that if you went, the only way we’d be getting that talon is by stealing it, and we’ve gotten the other children in trouble for that before.”

“So? I’m not new to breaking into places.”

Ratchet frowned. “That’s exactly the problem. Stealing it would raise too much attention — attention we simply cannot afford right now. And I’m not going to put you on a police officer’s record for something as trivial as a Predacon talon.”

Nova scoffed. “But you trust Fowler and June to handle it? June doesn’t even know how to fight Decepticons! She’s a nurse, for frag’s sake…” she snarled out her next words. “Kind of like you .”

The boys made an exaggerated “oooh” sound, as if anticipating a showdown.

Ratchet’s eyes narrowed. “Call me a nurse again, young lady, and you will get benched.”

Nova glared at him, biting back a retort. She wanted to push him so bad, to see if he would make good on the threat. At last, his hard stare became too much for her, and she averted her gaze, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Ratchet sighed, his tone softening slightly. “Fowler has the credentials to pull this off without turning it into a national incident, and June — well, I trust her to keep him on a sensible track. Believe it or not, they’re more equipped for this mission than either of us.”

“Equipped?” Nova bit the word out. “Oh, I get it! You’re just keeping me out of the way because I don’t have my armor. Because I’m weak.”

The boys exchanged a glance. This tea was new.

“That’s not it,” Ratchet said firmly, though his expression softened. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’re scared.”

She bristled. "I’m not scared—“

“You are scared,” he interrupted, with a knowing stare. “But you are not weak, Nova. Not by any means.”

“Yes, I am!” She wasn’t yelling, but the frustration and hurt were plain in her voice. “I'm useless! I’m only good for stacking cubes and fetching groceries, and you know it!”

Ratchet looked at her for a moment, considering his words carefully. Finally, he turned to face her, his voice quieter now, much softer than it usually was.

“Nova, listen to me,” he murmured. “I’ve seen this many times before. You want to feel like you’re still capable, and you're trying to prove it to everyone. But pushing yourself too hard before you’re ready will only lead to more harm.”

Nova flinched at his insight, her gaze dropping to the floor to hide the sudden wetness in her eyes.

"I don’t want to go out there,” she whispered desperately.

“I know,” Ratchet sighed again, leaning back. “But if you want to help, then help. Carrying out mundane tasks may not be what you want, but it’s what we need right now. And I know you care about the team enough to do what’s needed, even if it’s not what you prefer.”

Nova hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the supply list Ratchet had handed her earlier. Her fingers twitched, gripping the paper tighter. Deep down, she knew he was right. She did care about the team — most of the team, anyway. But that didn’t stop her from feeling so fragging… small.

Finally, she looked up at Ratchet, shoving the list and card in her pocket. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” he nodded. “Rafael, could you transport her, please?”

Raf gave a thumbs up. “You got it.”

Nova frowned. “I thought we didn’t have enough Energon for bridges.”

“We have enough for a few more jumps,” Ratchet countered. “I don’t want the Decepticons triangulating our new position through nearby transactions. It’s best to shop at distant, unrelated locations, so they don’t detect any patterns.”

“I’m sending you to a Walmart in Greencastle, Indiana,” Raf added with a grin. “Ready to go?”

Nova took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she approached the GroundBridge tunnel.

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling slowly. “I’m ready.”

The GroundBridge portal flickered to life, its swirling colors filling the tunnel. With one last breath, Nova stepped through, bracing herself for whatever awaited her on the other side.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Megatron petted the huge beast on its thick neck, smiling softly as he took the fossilized eyeball from its jaws.

"Ah, you have performed well, my pet," he purred. "This will be a splendid contribution to the spawning of your Predacon brethren."

"My liege," Knock Out greeted him, emerging onto the landing pad with his usual smirk. "We’ve located another one of Shockwave’s Predacon energy signatures -- weak, but steady."

"Excellent." Megatron turned to him with a sharp look. "Knock Out, do not return empty-handed."

"Moi?" Knock Out placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "Don’t know the meaning of the word!"

"Isn’t 'empty-handed' two words?" a new voice cut in.

Starscream sauntered onto the landing pad, his wry smile slanted across his face.

"You would know," Knock Out fired back, "or did your missing armor turn up?"

Starscream’s face darkened as he growled, "Why, you wheel-bound—"

"Starscream." Megatron’s deep voice silenced the squabble. "You have failed me enough for one day. Assume the task of monitoring for Predacon energy signatures at once."

"Yes, my liege," Starscream snarled, shoving Knock Out aside.

"I’m sure you’ll find the gig as invigorating as I did, Screamer," Knock Out jabbed primly, following Megatron into the ship.

The Predacon watched them leave, its gaze surprisingly sharp for a dumb beast.

"Shockwave has initiated the cloning process with the specimens we have gathered thus far," Megatron explained to Knock Out. "The Predacon currently among us will be but the first of a new wave of beast machine supersoldiers."

The Predacon rumbled deep in its throat, its eyes glowing with what would have seemed like a quiet satisfaction to the average observer.

But Starscream, oblivious to the beast’s burgeoning awareness, was far more focused on his own frustrations. He turned toward the Predacon, his anger bubbling over.

"What are you lurking about for?" he demanded, punctuating his words with a sharp kick to the dragon's tail. "Get back to your kennel!"

The beast’s hiss was immediate, and its response even faster. The Predacon lashed out, its massive tail whipping toward Starscream with vicious force.

But Starscream's self-preservation instincts were better than most, and his honed reflexes kicked in just in time. He hit the deck, and the curling tail slammed into the satellite array behind Starscream. The impact gouged a deep gash into the Nemesis’ communications array, sending sparks and crackling lightning across the landing pad.

"You mindless brute!" Starscream spluttered, scrambling to his feet. "Look what you’ve done!"

The Predacon responded with a thunderous roar, its breath hot on the Seeker's face. Starscream, realizing he wasn't nearly stupid enough to press the issue with an angry dragon, instantly backed down.

"Now I have to call maintenance workers to repair the damages," he grumbled under his breath as he stalked toward the ship.

But the Predacon wasn’t finished with him. It broke into a run, chasing the Seeker in a terrifying burst of speed. Starscream yelped and fled, dashing for the ship’s doors as fast as his legs could carry him.

The hatch slammed shut just in time, leaving the Predacon to snarl in frustration outside. Starscream, breathless and shaken, leaned heavily against the sealed entrance.

"This is not what I signed up for," he wheezed, glaring through the door at the still-roaring beast.

The Predacon, left alone on the landing pad, snorted in irritation as Starscream's scent faded into the background. His frustration gave way to angered pacing, his keen senses flaring in the wake of the chase.

Then he smelled it.

Something strange, something unexpected, reached his nose, and his nostrils flared, pulling in the unfamiliar aroma. The dragon’s glowing optics narrowed as it tried to make sense of the peculiar mixture. It had been trained to hunt Autobots, capable of picking up the scent of a Cybertronian's Energon from miles away, but this... this was different.

The dragon raised his massive head, his glowing optics narrowing as he sniffed the air again. The wafting air carried the sharp tang of Energon, a scent he knew well. But layered beneath it was something else; something warm, something organic .

A low growl rumbled from his throat. He had never smelled anything like this on Earth before. It was alien, wrong, and yet strangely ... familiar. It smelled of labs, of amniotic fluid, of unnatural and lonely uniquity.

It smelled like him.

The connection snapped into place, and his thrill for the hunt flared into something more intense: curiosity.

How could this be? There were no others like him on this planet, none created in the way that Shockwave had designed him.

Were there?

The Predacon’s mind sharpened, instincts kicking into full gear. Whatever this strange, twisted creature was, he would find it. He would chase it. Perhaps he would kill it.

With a massive leap, his wings unfurled, catching the wind as he launched himself into the sky.

Higher and higher he flew, riding the currents of the atmosphere as his senses stretched outward, locking onto that elusive scent.

He angled his massive body, swooping toward the direction where the scent was strongest, a savage determination glinting in his glowing optics.

He was on the hunt now.

And nothing he hunted could hide from him.

Chapter Text

Nova stepped out of the GroundBridge and into the sprawling Walmart parking lot, her boots crunching lightly against the asphalt and crushed glass. The sky above her was a rich, blinding blue, the sun slowly crawling to its zenith in the late hours before lunch. The long, low building before her said “Wal*Mart” in large, glowing letters, trimmed round with ultramarine. 

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her frayed nerves. This is just a store, she told herself, though the jittery feeling in her stomach said otherwise. The list in her hand was filled with mundane items, things she hadn’t needed for years. Snacks, phone chargers, disinfecting wipes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, paper towels, toilet paper, roach repellent…

She stood there for a long moment, trying to force herself to just walk inside.

Eventually, her anxious thoughts relented just enough, and she made it across the parking lot, reaching for the large glass doors standing between her and the mission.

To her surprise, the doors slid open with a soft hiss, giving Nova a terrible fright. She flinched back, startled, and the doors closed just as quickly. 

The frag was that? 

She frowned, stepping forward cautiously. Again, the doors sprang open before she even touched them. When she stepped back a few paces, they closed. 

Determined to take the door by surprise, she held out a hand and burst into a run, but just before her hand could reach the glass, the doors shot open, and she skidded to a halt. 

She hesitated, studying the entrance with wary eyes. Apparently, this stupid door did not want to be touched. It had no handles, no retina scanner, no crash bar. It still stood wide open. Maybe she could just slip through. 

 Will they snap shut on me?  

Her pulse quickened, and she held out a cautious hand, sweeping her arm into the gap to try and trigger any hidden lasers.

Nothing happened. 

Then, without warning, two girls strode right past her, laughing and talking. Purses slung and phones out, they breezed straight through the doors with queenly ease, as if they expected the world to part for them, too. 

Nova stared at them, bewildered. They showed no hesitation, no fear — just brisk confidence. Maybe that was the secret. Maybe you just had to be fast.

She exhaled, shaking out her head and hands. I’m fast. I’m faster than a door. Oh yeah. Okay. 

Still, it took another second before she could muster the nerve to follow. Gathering her courage, she let out a yell and broke into a sprint, diving inside and hitting the ground in a perfect somersault. Sure enough, the doors stayed open until she had passed through, just as they had for everyone else.

As she stood up, the glass panels closed behind her with a soft whoosh, as if making fun of her for her theatrics. She felt a little silly, until a terrible thought crossed her mind. 

What if I can’t get out? 

She flung out her arm one more time, just to make sure she wasn’t trapped, and to her relief, the doors slid open with the same ghostly courtesy.

Frowning at the strange entrance, she cautiously turned around and stepped into the fluorescent light of the store. The moment she crossed the threshold, the blending sounds and myriad colors of Walmart sent her senses into overdrive.

People bustled around, their conversations blending into an incomprehensible murmur. Boxes of vegetables and fruits stared down shelves of warm baked goods. Tags and prices and signs popped out everywhere. The beep of a register made her jump, the radio’s songs on the overhead speakers sent a spike of adrenaline through her body.

Why aren’t these people freaking out? she thought. How do they live like this? 

She forced herself to move. To her left were dozens and dozens of grey metal baskets on wheels, locked into one another like long, cold centipedes. 

“PLEASE RETURN CARTS AFTER USE,” read the sign above the baskets. 

The girls ahead of her pulled out one of these baskets, pushing it by the handle as they swung their purses into it. 

Deciding to copy them, Nova seized the blue plastic handle of the nearest cart and ripped it out of its slot, nearly colliding with another shopper who had come in behind her. 

“Whoa,” the elderly man cried, slipping past her with an apologetic grin. “'Scuse me, young lady.” 

Speechless, Nova watched him walk toward the stands of vegetables, her mind reeling at his lack of indignation. 

He didn’t attack me at all. 

Blinking like a frog, Nova just stood there for a moment, clutching the cracked blue plastic as she absorbed the vibrant sights. 

After a moment, she thought to look down at the crumpled list, her heart sinking as she realized that she'd have to navigate this noisy labyrinth alone. She didn't even know where to find half of what she needed. 

Just go. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can go home.

Taking a deep breath, she wandered further into the store, eyes darting at every small sound. A couple of kids dashed by, giggling as they raced through the aisles, and Nova froze, expecting one of them to pull a weapon. Instead, they ran off, laughing, chasing each other without a care in the world.

Get a grip, she told herself, clutching the shopping list tighter.

Her mission here was to blend in, act normal, but so far, she was doing a terrible job. She expected everyone to notice her, to home in on her obvious awkwardness like missiles, but most paid her no attention at all.

Her gaze lingered on an older couple walking calmly, arm in arm, with not a hint of suspicion about them. How can they be so relaxed?

Pulling off to the side, she glanced down at the list. 

Snacks was the first item. Might as well start with that. 

But where do I find snacks? 

Her eyes caught the sight of the signs above her. “Breakfast Food,” it read. 

The first aisle she entered was packed with bright, colorful displays. Boxes of cereal towered around her: Fruit Loops, Cheerios, Captain Crunch. The overwhelming array of choices only fed her growing sense of confusion. Why are there so many kinds of the same thing? 

Blindly, she went down every single grocery aisle and scooped as many random food items into the basket as she could feasibly carry. Cans, boxes, bags, all of it went indiscriminately into the basket. I hope the kids like this stuff.

Eventually, she had blazed through the grocery aisles and found herself in the dairy section, staring at the endless rows of milk. There were so many brands of milk. 

She picked up one carton, examining it with a puzzled frown. Almond? How do you milk an almond? The list didn’t say anything about milk, but everything in this place was starting to blur together.

She put the carton back, shaking her head with a snort. The next thing on the list was “phone chargers.”

Frag. I don’t know where those are. 

After wandering aimlessly for several minutes, she spotted a man in a blue vest, stocking shelves in the cleaning supplies aisle. 

I gotta ask him. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached. Gritting her teeth, she reached out to tap his shoulder. “Uh... excuse me?”

The grizzled man turned around, his face set in the mild frown unique to retail workers. “Can I help you?” 

“Do you work at this place?” Nova demanded, ready to raise her fists if he tried anything. 

He glanced down at his blue vest with a tired sigh. “Last I checked.” 

Nova narrowed her eyes. 

“Do you know where can I find phone chargers?” she ground out. “To ... charge phones?”

The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment further. “Electronics, back corner of the store. Head that way and make a left.”

She spun around, her gaze locking onto the “Electronics” sign, and she scrambled out of the narrow aisle with heaving lungs.

Am I blind? Am I illiterate? I should have seen that. 

One by one, she collected every item on the list — laundry detergent, wipes, garbage bags. To her surprise, each time she asked for help, it got a little easier to get the words out, and she even managed to throw in a few “pleases” and “thank yous.” The electronics employee even helped her pick out the right type of phone chargers, based on her description of the kids’ devices.

Any second now, someone will figure it out, she kept telling herself. Someone will see me for what I am.

But every moment she spent in the store was another moment nothing happened. These people were oblivious to the world she came from. They walked past her without a second glance, preoccupied with their own lives. 

Is this what normal is? she wondered, a bitter pang of jealousy rising in her chest.

On her way to get roach repellent, she passed a woman who was pushing her infant daughter in the cart, and the child caught Nova’s eye, offering her a small, toothless grin. Nova blinked, caught off guard, but slowly, something softened inside her, and she suddenly felt a little less terrified. 

Maybe normal isn’t so bad.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking through the brightly lit maze, the last thing on the list had been collected, and Nova looked over her items with pride. She hadn’t had to call the base even once. As she made her way to the front of the store, she suddenly realized her shoulders weren’t so tense anymore. The fluorescent lights still buzzed overhead, and every clattering cart still made her twitch, but she was still alive. 

Nova sighed, looking around. Okay, now what do I do? 

Suddenly, she spotted the two girls she had followed in earlier, their cart laden with all the necessities of a college dorm room. They were headed to some strange-looking lines at the front of the store. 

That must be where you pay, she reasoned. 

She swung her cart around, darting into the line of people waiting to checkout. For a moment, she feared people would recognize her, that they would somehow look at the items in her cart and ascertain the purpose of her mission, but on second glance she noticed people were far more interested in their phones than her.

I’m doing great. 

The line shortened, one customer at a time, and slowly, she and her cart inched closer to the kiosk. She watched closely as the two girls in front of her put their groceries on the little conveyer belt, and the heavyset lady behind the counter ran each barcode over a scanner, placing their items into plastic bags at the end of the line. The cashier had the same bland expression as the other employees she had met thus far. 

I would also look like that if I worked in the Walmart, Nova concluded.

Once the items had all been bagged, the girls handed the cashier a wad of cash, which sent Nova’s heart into a frenzy. 

I don’t have paper money! I don't have coins!

It was her turn. She rolled her cart to the register, pale as a sheet. The cashier lady watched her approach with low-lidded eyes, chewing her gum in silence. 

Pushing the cart forward, she tried to stay composed, but her hands trembled as she loaded her items onto the belt. The cashier's staring didn’t help her shot nerves. The instant the first item reached the register, the woman worked quickly, scanning and bagging Nova’s things with terrible speed.

Finally, Nova placed the last item on the belt — a huge grey tote bag she’d picked out herself — something practical, something to carry everything home. She was oddly proud of that little detail. 

Look at me, being prepared.

But that glow of pride was short-lived.

“Total’s $93.75,” the cashier said flatly, tapping the screen.

Nova’s heart plummeted. I don’t have any money. 

The world seemed to narrow, heat flooding her face as she imagined everyone behind her staring, whispering about the girl who couldn’t pay.

“Cash or card?” the cashier prompted, chewing her gum lazily.

Suddenly, Nova remembered Fowler’s card. With a gasp, she yanked it from her pocket and pushed it toward the cashier. “Oh! Can you use this?”

The cashier looked at her, unimpressed. “You can do it yourself, baby. Just put it in the chip reader.” She pointed to the little pad by the register.

Nova stared at it blankly. “Huh?” 

Her hands fumbled with the card, trying to figure out where it went. If the card was magic; she didn’t know any spells. 

How does this thing work?

She poked it into the reader at all angles, until it slid into a hidden slot underneath the numbers. She waited for a few seconds, wondering if it had worked. 

“Other way sweetie,” the lady said, snapping her gum.

Mortified, Nova pulled out the card and turned it around. 

“Oh yeah sorry,” she mumbled. The imagined stares from the people behind her were becoming oppressive. But finally, the screen did something, taking the payment with a cheery beep. 

“You’re not from around these parts, are ya?” the lady drawled as Nova began to type in the PIN. “Detroit, maybe?”

Nova halted. 

Does she recognize me?

“Huh?” she choked, her voice strangled. 

The cashier shrugged. “I remember seeing a kid with eyes like yours. Said she was from Detroit. Thought it was a city thing.” 

“Uh, no, I’m…” Seeking an escape, Nova glanced at the closed hair salon beyond the registers, and froze when she saw her reflection in the display windows. Her gleaming blue eyes were practically burning holes into her own retinas. 

“Blue contacts, right?” asked the cashier as the machine spat a receipt into her waiting hand. “I get it. We can’t all be Margot Robbie.” 

Nova turned back to her, trying to get the words out of her dry throat. “Right… Thank you.” 

“Have a good night,” the cashier droned. 

Nova hurriedly stuffed her purchases into the grey tote, her hands trembling as she wheeled her cart to the exit. She bolted through those awful doors like a hellhound, her heart still hammering in her chest, but the moment she stepped outside into the cool evening air, she exhaled a long, deep sigh of relief.

“I did it,” she cried, bending over with her hands on her knees. “Holy frag. I did it.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Nova let herself relax, if only a little. Tugging the strap of the tote over her shoulder, she walked toward the spot where she knew Raf would open the GroundBridge, feeling the tension melt from her shaking body. She’d survived Walmart. For now, that was enough.

She put a hand to her ear, ready to ask for a bridge home and give Ratchet the most thorough diatribe he had ever heard. But to her surprise, her fingers touched nothing. 

“My commlink,” she gasped, rifling through her pockets frantically. “Oh, no…” 

With a groan, she remembered exactly where it was. She had left it in the storage bay when she had been busy with her chores. 

“Dang it,” she groaned. “Now what?” 

Hands on her hips, she stood there for a moment, trying to think of a plan, trying to figure out how to get home without her commlink. 

She snapped her fingers. I think I remember Fowler’s number. I’ll just go inside and ask for a phone.

Satisfied with her plan, she straightened up, ready to start walking when a strange movement caught her eye.  

A dark shadow, long as a bus, slid lazily across the parking lot.

She watched it curl across the asphalt, her face pulling into a frown. 

That’s weird. 

As the thought passed through her mind, her ears suddenly registered the terrible sound of wings.

Instinctively, she froze, every hair on the back of her neck rising. Slowly, she turned her gaze to the blinding sky, dread curling through her veins like ice.

There, silhouetted against the blazing sun, was a massive beastly shape, with enormous, batlike wings slicing across the blue dome as it circled the parking lot. The terrible black thing soared overhead, its glowing optics scanning the ground below.

Terror shot through the girl like a bolt of lightning. She had stared long enough at Ratchet’s archived images to recognize the creature immediately. 

It’s the Predacon.

Nova’s blood ran cold. Her pulse hammered in her ears, her muscles freezing in pure, primal terror. For a split second, her mind reeled in disbelief as she watched the monster wheel around for another pass. 

Why? Why here? Why now? Why would that thing go to some random Walmart in Indiana? 

Then, it looked at her.

Time slowed. The glowing eyes of the dragon met those of the girl, and in that one heartbeat, Nova felt the fear of death bearing down on her. The world shrank to a pinpoint  around her — the parking lot, the chirping birds, everything else faded. There was no time to think. No time for anything. All that mattered was the beast swooping toward her, its jagged maw and razor-sharp claws glinting in the noonday light.

Run.

And she fragging ran. 

The Predacon’s bone-chilling roar split the air behind her, and her heart seized in her chest.

She barely registered the feeling of the tote as it slipped from her shoulder, crashing to the ground with all the groceries inside. She didn’t care. Let it fall. The thought of turning back to retrieve it was laughable, stupid. She had to run. She had to live.

The world blurred as her boots slammed against the pavement, carrying her toward the one hiding place she could see: a dark line of trees sprawling on the other side of the parking lot. Her lungs screamed for air as she pushed herself harder, the fear tearing through her veins like fire.

She had no comms. No weapons. No armor.

No chance.

But still, she ran, her legs burning, the ache in her chest spreading as dread clawed at her insides. Each breath came out in a desperate cry, her body fighting for the oxygen she barely managed to pull in.

The screams of people around her were muffled by the sheer speed she was clocking, but the rush of air in her ears wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of the beast’s wings. The heavy, rhythmic beating grew louder, closing in, sending a fresh surge of panic through her.

Get to cover. Get away.

She could hear the heavy thrum of the Predacon’s wings growing louder, closer. A primal, bone-deep terror gripped her brain. Her chest tightened. Desperately, she zigzagged between the last rows of cars, knowing they were all hunks of dead metal, knowing none of them were friends of hers. 

Her breath devolved to ragged sobs, her heart threatening to tear out of her chest as the Predacon’s shadow stretched over her, blotting out the glare of the sun. She could hear its harsh growls, feel the wind pushing against her as it descended.

No. Faster. I have to be faster!

But the beast was closing in.

And there was no one coming to save her. 

Chapter Text

Frag. Frag. Frag!

The dragon’s roar filled the sky above her. Nova’s eyes burned from being blown open so long, but she did not look away from the approaching  treeline. She didn't have to see the dragon to know it was chasing her, to know it was going to catch her if she wasn’t fast enough.

Finally, Nova burst into the forest, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might slam a hole through her chest. Staggering to a stop, she fell against a tree for support. Her doubled-over body trembled from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her lungs clawed for breath, but it didn’t matter, now. The dense canopy of leaves would hide her from the dragon’s sight. Surely it would give up. Surely she wasn’t worth the trouble. She was alive. She’d made it.

But then the ground shook.

Her heart stopped. A rush of wind rolled through the trees, followed by the awful thud of enormous footsteps.

She raised her head just in time to see the dragon’s massive form crashing through the tree line. 

Nova’s breath hitched in her throat as she slowly stood upright. She knew she was no match for this thing, even with her armor and weapons — no, even with the strength of a Prime, she could never hope to defeat such a creature. 

The only option was to run, and she ran for her life.  

She launched herself forward, the brief respite ripped away as she bolted deeper into the woods. She wove back and forth between tree trunks, zipping left and right, praying it would slow the beast down.

But the dragon wasn’t deterred. It tore through the forest like a hurricane, leaves and debris flying in its wake. The ground trembled beneath her feet with each of its heavy strides, and she imagined she could feel its searing breath on her back.

Her body screamed with every step, but the sound of snapping branches not inches from her flying ankles spurred her on, faster, faster. The forest blurred around her, her vision tunneling again as terror drove her forward. Her legs pumped so fast she could barely control them.

Why is this happening to me?!

The dragon’s roar split the air again, so close now that Nova’s ears rang.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, dread spiking in her veins as she caught sight of it, not sixty feet away, holy slag. Its massive wings were folded tight against its body as it barreled through the trees. Its terrible eyes locked onto her.

“No,” she growled under her heaving breath. “No, no no!” 

Nova's teeth fused in a horrible grin of panic as she pushed herself to run faster, arms pumping, muscles screaming. Branches whipped at her face, swiping at her skin and clothes, but she barely felt the sting. She couldn’t feel anything but the fear coursing through her. Her breaths screeched like a grinding wheel, her heart thrashed like a frightened bird against her ribs. 

I’m dead. I’m dead.

Bursting into a small clearing, Nova’s wild eyes scanned her surroundings, groping frantically for a way out. But there was nothing but power lines and the blue sky — no cover, no hope.

Suddenly, the dragon’s shadow draped over her, blocking out the sun. Nova’s gaze shot upward, and her heart jumped like a caged bird as she realized the beast had taken to the sky again. She staggered back, eyes occupied with the swooping dragon.

But her foot caught on a root. Her limbs tangled beneath her. She hit the grass. Her lungs made the noise of a rubber chicken ruthlessly flung at a concrete wall. Desperate for air, she forgot all else and clutched her stalling chest, choking. 

But before she could even begin to breathe again, the earth dropped beneath the weight of the Predacon’s massive form, slamming her into the dirt. 

Nova's heart began to beat out the rhythm of her own dirge as she lifted her head, dread pooling in her stomach.

The Predacon loomed over her, eclipsing the sun, its terrible claws carving gashes into the tender sod as it lowered its heavy head. The heat of its breath washed over her. She could smell the sharp tang of metal on his plates.

Terror seized every muscle she had. She clutched desperate handfuls of the grass, as if it could anchor her to life. Everything the Autobots had said about the dragon flooded her brain as she stared into its eyes. She knew it was a hunter. She knew it was born and bred to kill Autobots. It had probably killed people ten times her size. 

And now, it had her.

The dragon descended until its massive snout brushed against her cheek. Its eyes burned like smelted gold, like hellfire. The cool rasp of its teeth against her skin made her eyes grow to the size of saucers. 

I’m gonna die. 

She felt the hot rasp of the dragon’s tongue as it scooped a glistening drop of Energon from her branch-whipped face. The beast’s low rumble sent a deep tremor through her ribs. 

“Please," Nova begged, her voice thick with fear. "Please, don't kill me."

At the sound of her voice, the dragon's head tilted ever so slightly, its gaze locking onto her wide, tear-filled eyes. For a split second, the fiery menace in its eyes seemed to flicker. 

It almost looked like it was... listening.

Nova swallowed hard. Maybe this creature wasn’t as mindless as the Autobots thought. Maybe she could negotiate with it. Maybe she could try to do what Optimus did.

“I’m not your enemy,” she choked out. “I’m not.”

The dragon didn’t move. It continued to stare at her, head tilted, optics blazing in place of the sun. Its breath came out in deep, slow huffs, each one warming her face. Still, it didn’t strike. It didn’t tear her apart. There was something almost curious in its expression, as if it was trying to make sense of this strange, trembling creature at its feet.

“I— I can’t fight you,” Nova rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t even want to.”

The dragon rumbled again, but Nova thought it sounded less aggressive and more contemplative. The dragon’s fiery optics flicked down to the small, shimmering drop of Energon that had reemerged from the cuts and rolled down her soft skin — her human skin. Perhaps it was the fear of death that led her to draw such desperate conclusions, but was no doubt in Nova's mind that this creature was thinking.

Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

She gritted her teeth, and her final plea came out in a whisper. “Please… I don’t wanna die.” 

For what felt like hours, the dragon’s gaze burned into her, but then, without warning, its massive wings snapped open. The sudden force of wind knocked her back slightly, sending loose leaves and dirt scattering around her. Nova shielded her face with her arms, gasping as the beast’s shadow engulfed her once more.

And then, with three powerful beats of its wings, the Predacon lifted off into the sky.

Scrambling to her feet, Nova's head snapped up, watching as the dragon soared through the canopy. The trees shuddered beneath its power as it rose higher, higher, disappearing into the rolling clouds.

And she was alone again. 

I almost died… I almost…

With a sob, Nova sank to her knees. Blinding tears streamed unchecked down her face as the reality of how close she had come to death washed over her.

Nova clapped a hand to her chest, feeling her heart spasming beneath her trembling fingers. It was going too fast, it would surely burst, she had to slow it down, slow it down. 

Mind reeling, she gulped in breath after breath, but though her lungs heaved like the bellows of a forge, she couldn’t take in enough to satisfy her pounding heart. No sooner did she take in air than it was punched out again. The back of her throat was too tight, it fragging hurts so bad, breathing shouldn’t hurt this much, should it? 

Her muscles pulled tight again and again, holy slag, the dragon had gone but the horror remained, the dragon had gone so why did she still think she was going to die? 

She stuffed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to block out the memory of his burning gaze, but the afterimage only burned the brighter. 

“Guh… no…” 

She wished Optimus was still in her head. He would know what to say. But he wasn’t in her head. He wasn’t even here. 

Wheezing, Nova fought to regain control of herself, to push back the overwhelming panic that threatened to consume her. Each moment dragged on forever. The world was too big, she was too small. It was going to crush her. Why? Why did they send me out here alone? Why didn’t they save me? Where are they?  

Suddenly, as though summoned by her desperate need for air, the wind picked up. The trees lining the clearing began to sway, and the rustling leaves whispered soothing words into her ears. One by one, she took in her breaths and held them for a moment before letting them go. Gradually, her panic began to fade, her breathing deepened, her heart began to settle back into an acceptable rhythm. 

With a deep sigh, Nova closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather her strength, to steel herself against the terror that still writhed in her chest.

It’s ok. You’re ok…

She forced herself to stand on stiff legs, and cast a glance over her shoulder, half expecting to see the Predacon lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing. Only the quiet forest surrounded her now, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze a soothing balm against her frayed nerves. 

With a deep breath, Nova wiped her face, smearing dirt and blood across her cheeks, and straightened her shoulders. 

Welp. Only one thing to do. 

With that, she began to make her way back to the parking lot, weaving through the trampled path the Predacon had left. As the trek back grew longer and longer, she found herself surprised at how far she had managed to outrun the beast. Her throat still rasped, and her legs were starting to feel terribly sore, but the further she walked, the calmer she felt. 

After some time, she emerged from the woods, stepping onto the gravelly pavement again. And to her surprise, there at her feet lay the grey tote bag she had bought not an hour ago. 

Her breath hitched, a slight smile tugging at her face. 

No way.

Her groceries were scattered across the pavement, but no one had taken them. They were just… waiting for her. 

Bending down, Nova tucked everything back into the bag, the weight of it oddly comforting now. 

As she slung the tote over her shoulder, she heard the rumble of a familiar engine. She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Smokescreen’s vehicle mode pulling into the parking lot, his garish gold and blue stripes gleaming in the afternoon light. 

She snorted, her smile growing in disbelief. 

Son of a gun.

“Smokescreen!” she yelled, waving her hands. “Hey! Over here!”

If the startled onlookers in the parking lot had anything better to do than continue to question their own sanity for seeing a real-life dragon earlier that day, they might have noticed the disheveled girl with blue eyes ducking into the passenger seat of a very conspicuous — and very driverless — car. 

But they didn’t.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“Holy slag, I can’t believe I found you!” Smokescreen yelled. “Where have you been? Oh, I gotta call the base.”

He opened the comms before the smiling girl could reply. “Hey, Ratchet? Call off the search party, I found her. Can we get a bridge?”

Nova slung the bag of groceries into the back seat. “You guys noticed I was gone?”

“Are you kidding?” he cried. “Ratchet sent us out as soon as we got back. Bee and Optimus are still out looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Nova rasped softly. “The mission got a little ... crazy.”  

“A little?” he scoffed. “You’ve been off-grid for hours. Ratchet couldn’t get you to pick up your comms. We were worried you might be—” 

He cut himself off as he angled back the rearview mirror, realizing the state she was in. Her face was streaked in dirt and sweat and Energon, but her smile was radiant. 

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

“No,” Nova grinned, holding up a can of tuna in triumph. “But I did it.”

“Wow,” Smokescreen marveled. “You went shopping all by yourself?”

“Yep,” she said proudly. “I got everything on the list.”

“Well, you look terrible,” he snorted. “It’s a good thing I found you, I didn’t know shopping on Earth was this brutal.” 

“Me neither.” Nova nestled into the chair, beaming in happy silence. She was dirty, sweaty, and exhausted, sure, but she was also going home. Soon, everything would be all right.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

It was late at night when the Predacon returned. Troopers scattered before his descending shadow as he alighted onto the Decepticon landing pad. The metal shook under the impact of his landing. The trembling mechanics grabbed their tools and bolted. At least they had managed to finish repairs on the communications array in time to avoid becoming dragon food.

Inside the warship, Knock Out knelt before Megatron, glowing with pride as he presented the hard-won Predacon talon.

“A trophy, my liege,” Knock Out smirked. “Snatched from the Autobots and their human pets. Ideally, I’d have brought the fleshies back too, but our communications made things a little complicated.”

Megatron’s lips curled into a menacing grin as he took the talon, his eyes gleaming with approval.

“You have served me well today, Knock Out.” His scowl intensified as he glanced at the trembling figure at his side. “Which is more than I can say for some!”

“It was the beast that disrupted communications, my liege!” Starscream protested, his voice shaking. “I beg you to reconsider Project Predacon! The creature is most incorrigible, void of all but the most rudimentary intelligence!”

Unbeknownst to the bickering Decepticons, the creature in question was currently investigating the new communications terminal the panicked mechanics had left in their rush, assuming a dragon would have little use for it. His talons delicately manipulated the keypad meant for smaller mechs, the screens flashing as he accessed the Decepticon information database. The Predacon’s optics narrowed as he typed in the words he had heard others use to refer to him.

Beast. Dragon. Monster.

As the results sprang into view, his immense claws tapped against the screen, flipping through files of ancient history and fragmented data about his kind. He saw names and images of the Predacons of old — glorious creatures, mighty, legendary, feared. His treatment at the hands of the Decepticons paled in comparison. There was no name for him. No respect. Just the honor of being a living weapon, a pawn in their war.

That fragile girl, the one whose scent reminded him of being born in darkness. Whether she was a daughter of Cybertron or of Earth, that he could not tell, and it ultimately did not matter in the grand scheme of things. She had been small, and soft, and shaking, like everything else he hunted, but there was one curiosity in her actions. One thing that set her apart in his working, thinking mind. Though she reeked of Autobots, though she bled blue just like them, she had said that she was not his enemy, that she did not want to fight him at all.

Unlike his other prey, unlike his own masters, that pathetic creature had spoken to him as if he understood, as if he mattered. 

What did this mean?

Perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps there was more to this life than fetching creatures for his masters. Perhaps there were other things he did not know.

The dragon’s optics narrowed as he scrolled through the information on the little screen. Soon, he would know exactly what he was, and who his true enemies were.

Yes. Soon, he would know many things.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The moment Nova stepped out of Smokescreen’s alt mode, she was met with the buzz of activity. Optimus and Ultra Magnus were busy discussing their latest missions, their imposing figures standing together near the main console. Meanwhile, June and Fowler had just returned from their own adventure with Wheeljack and Arcee. Apparently, it had been an eventful day for everyone.

Smokescreen waited to transform until Nova ducked into the back door to retrieve the tote. Ratchet was already approaching the duo, medical kit in hand. 

“Are you all right?” he demanded, kneeling down to the girl. “What happened to you?”

Nova waved him off. “Nothing. I forgot my commlink, that’s all.”

“Why are you all dirty again?”

“I fell down,” Nova shrugged. “In the parking lot.”

“That’s where I found her,” Smokescreen corroborated. 

“Well,” Ratchet said doubtfully. “It looks like you only sustained a few scratches. Keep an eye on them.”

“Nova!” Miko’s voice squealed before Nova could reply. “Check this out!” 

She was standing with the Wreckers, gleefully showing off the Apex Armor she had managed to acquire. 

“This is legit!” she boasted, snapping selfies with the massive suit of armor behind her.

Hefting the tote on her shoulder, Nova approached the towering suit with slack jaw. 

“Where did you get that, Miko?” she asked lowly.

“I stole it from Starscream,” Miko boasted. “And guess what? I fought off the Predacon with it!”

Nova’s heart sank a little as she stared up at the armor. “You did?” 

“Yeah, it was epic!” the girl squealed. “You shoulda been there. Hey, take a picture of us!”

She thrust the phone into Nova’s hands before she could protest. 

“Take a bunch!” Miko cried, holding up her hands in rockstar signs as Bulkhead stooped into the frame, dragging the disgruntled Wheeljack along with him.  

“Okay,” Nova sighed. “Everyone look here.” 

Miko went back to striking poses with her trophy as Nova clumsily snapped a few pictures. Bulkhead beamed down at her like a proud father. 

Agent Fowler, standing nearby, was already bemoaning the mountain of missed phone calls awaiting him. 

“Somethin' big musta went down at the Pentagon,” Nova overheard him complaining to June. “Gonna be up all night picking through the fallout.”

“I’m sure you’re the best man to handle it,” June smiled gently. 

Nova tossed the phone back at Miko, fishing in her pocket for the card. Before Fowler could disappear into his office, she stepped forward and handed him back the plastic rectangle. 

“Here,” she said flatly.

Fowler accepted it with a raised brow. “You max it out?”

Nova smiled a little. “Almost.”

Raf looked up from his computer. “What did you bring back?”

“Oh,” she said casually. “Nothing much. You probably won’t even like it.” 

She began to walk away with the groceries, but the kids lunged forward and swarmed her, pulling the tote off her shoulder and rifling through it. 

“Yes!” Raf pulled out a box of mac and cheese. “Kraft at last.” 

Jack held up a box of granola bars. “Ooh, peanut butter and chocolate? Classic.”

“No way,” Miko laughed, waving around a can of water chestnuts. “What are we gonna do with these?”

“That’s so random!” Raf giggled.

“Hey,” Nova said, smiling sheepishly. “I was just trying to cover all the bases.”

“You got goldfish?!” Miko squealed, diving into the tote again.

Nova puffed out her chest as she watched them, proud of her accomplishment, but then she overheard Ultra Magnus speaking.

“Optimus,” Magnus said in an undertone, “is it wise to have a human involved in critical operations who can’t even complete a supply run without injury?”

Nova froze, her heart sinking. The words hit her like a slap of cold water in the face. He spoke about her like she was an incapable child, like she wasn’t part of the team.

Humiliation began to burn hot in her belly. She could feel the eyes of the others on her, but she couldn’t stay and face them. Not after that. Not after everything that had happened.

Without a word, she spun on her heel and stormed off, warm blood rising to her face. She kicked at an empty Energon cube on the way out, for good measure. Let them think she was just some angry, unstable child. Maybe she was. 

She didn’t make it far into the darker storage hallways before she heard footsteps following her, and the sound of Optimus’ voice. Of course, it was Optimus.

“Nova,” he called out. “I think you and I need to talk.”

She didn’t slow down. “I’m busy.” 

“Whatever you are doing can wait, little one,” he said gently, his slow strides swinging closer. 

“Well, maybe I’m busy trying to figure out when you got such big idiots on your team!” she bit out, still stomping forward. 

Optimus paused, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Nova—“

“He doesn’t know anything about me!” she snapped. “He doesn’t get it!”

“Why are you so upset by what he thinks?” the Prime asked gently.

He stopped on a dime as Nova whirled around to face him. 

“Because he’s right!” she seethed. 

For the first time, the Prime noticed how startlingly blue her eyes were in the dark. Had they been that way since the cave? 

“Everyone else on this team can do something,” Nova growled. “Everyone can contribute. Miko just brought back the Apex Armor, for crying out loud! But I can’t even handle a grocery run. I’m useless.”

Optimus knelt down to speak to her as he always did, though it did little good in his massive new frame. “You are not useless. You are just as much a part of this team as anyone else. Ultra Magnus does not know you like we do. You are a soldier, Nova. You are an Autobot. Most importantly, you are my daughter.”

The words were meant to comfort her, but they only twisted the knife deeper. 

“No, I’m not,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’m not a soldier. I’m not anything. Not anymore.”

Optimus tilted his head, concern etched into his face. “What do you mean?”

For a long moment, Nova was silent, her jaw clenched. She shoved a hand across her nose and put her hands on her hips, casting a gaze around the room to hide her expression. 

“My armor’s gone,” she said abruptly, scuffing the floor with her boot. 

“Gone?” Optimus repeated. 

She nodded. “You know that Predacon everybody’s been running from? That thing showed up at the fragging Walmart parking lot after Miko apparently thrashed its butt."

She began to chuckle, as if it was all a big joke. "I - I should have died today. And the only reason I didn’t is because I ran, too! I ran! I didn't even have a choice! I mean, I-” The imploding girl listed out her shortcomings on her fingers. “I have no armor, no strength, no defenses. I am weak. And everyone can see it.”

Optimus’ face softened with understanding, but before he could respond, Agent Fowler burst in.

"Are you kidding me?" Nova groaned, lolling her head back.

“Prime!” Fowler thundered, his voice tense. “We’ve got a situation.”

Optimus shifted his attention from Nova to Fowler. “What is it?”

“Our boys at the Big House were conducting a prisoner transport to a high-security facility,” Fowler explained. “But a few hours ago, the convoy was destroyed, and the prisoner escaped.”

“Well, can't the police handle it?” Nova asked irritably. “Why should we care about some stupid prisoner?”

Fowler’s face darkened. “Because that 'stupid prisoner' is Dr. Henry Arkeville.”

Chapter Text

First a fragging dragon, now this? 

Nova stuck close to Optimus, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of his leg, trying to hide herself in his immense shadow. Wheeljack and Bulkhead had gone on patrol, and most of the others were busy scouting elsewhere, which left only Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet to witness the unfolding news. June had returned to work, but the children had stayed to hear whatever had gotten Agent Fowler so angry. 

Nova took a deep breath as Fowler flipped through the government files thrown up on the large monitor. She knew she had to appear composed in front of the others, but the dread was already gnawing at her insides, and she wasn’t sure she could keep it in much longer.

Why is all of this happening? 

“So, who is this guy again?” Jack asked, leaning on the railing of the platform.

Fowler flipped through the grisly mugshots of the old man’s sneering face. “Dr. Henry Arkeville. Former neurosurgeon and CIA operative. In the 70s, he was involved in some pretty shady government experiments. Our intel indicates he became one of the co-founders of MECH once those experiments were halted for ethical violations.” Fowler looked around all of them with a steely glare. “He’s smart, he’s insane, and as of right now, we think he’s desperate.”

“Whoa,” Miko muttered, clearly intrigued. “Mad scientist.”

Raf pushed his glasses up nervously, the unease in his small movements echoing Nova’s own growing dread. “Why are we hearing about this crazy guy now?”

“Because as of 0900 hours this morning, he broke out of a military transport convoy as it passed the Nevada state border,” Fowler said, voice grim.

“Why was he being transported?” Ratchet inquired, folding his arms.

“They were taking him to a medical facility,” Fowler explained.

Nova stiffened, her gut twisting a little, and for the first time, she spoke. “Why?” 

Fowler hesitated before speaking. 

“He’s … deteriorating,” he revealed at last. “Apparently, all those years of exposure to Energon gave him radiation-induced leukemia.”

“What’s leukemia?” Miko whispered. Jack knew the word well.

“Cancer,” said the nurse’s son. “He’s dying.” 

“Our medical techs estimate he has less than five days to live,” Fowler said quietly. “Normally, this would mean he would be less of a threat, but he was able to derail that convoy without any conventional weapons, and there were no survivors.”

He flipped back to the first mugshot. “To sum up, the guy who thinks Bot tech is the cure for all humanity’s ills is looking for something, and chances are, he’s gonna come here to get it.” 

Nova felt the room zoom out, her vision blurring around the edges. The voices of the others became distant, drowned out by the surge of memories flooding her mind at the sight of that face — dark rooms, the scent of antiseptic, the crack as she slammed her own head against the table in a desperate attempt to knock herself out. And Arkeville’s voice. Always calm, always cruel.

She remembered the way he’d whispered reassurances in her ears even as her body burned from the inside out, even as Energon tore through through her veins like fire. 

You’ll thank me for this, he had said. You’ll be stronger when it’s done.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she barely registered Ultra Magnus’s voice cutting through her spiraling thoughts.

“In all likelihood, this human will be unable to breach Cybertronian defenses,” he mused. “I suggest we lock down the base immediately and take precautions.”

Nova shook her head, anger rising alongside her terror. He doesn’t understand. They don’t understand. She could still feel the chafe of straps, the prick of needles, the blue glow under her skin.

“No,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “We can’t sit around here. We have to find him. We have to kill him.”

The room fell silent for a beat, all eyes turning toward her. 

“Do we, though?” Jack asked. “I mean, Fowler just said he’s dying.” 

“Yeah,” Miko scoffed. “Even Megatron couldn’t get past Optimus 2.0. How’s some sick old guy supposed to take down a bunch of Bots?”

Nova clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “You don’t know him,” she hissed. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Her gaze flicked to Optimus. “You remember what he did to me last time. What if he does something like that again? He has to die. He has to pay.”

Several eyebrows raised at her choice of words. Before Optimus could respond, Ultra Magnus stepped in. 

“Autobots do not base their defense strategies on vengeance or anger,” he said coldly. “Unstable emotions should be kept out of this.”

The words hit Nova like a slap, her eyes narrowing into slits. “What did you just say to me?”

Magnus didn’t flinch, and why would he? 

“Vengeance and anger are the values of a Decepticon,” he said.

The fury that had been simmering inside her finally boiled over. 

“You don’t get to say that to me!” she seethed, lunging forward. 

Before she could reach him, Ratchet’s hand blocked her off, and Optimus immediately took Ultra Magnus aside.

“Let me go!” Nova growled. 

“Enough,” the medic said softly. “Let’s step away for a moment.”

Judging by the size of Bumblebee’s eyes, Optimus’ quiet reprimand to Magnus must have been sharper than usual, but Nova didn’t hear it. Her body was shaking, her vision running red as Ratchet led her into the medibay.

Once inside, she collapsed into the corner, burying her face in her hands. 

“Wait here,” Ratchet said.

Nova didn’t answer. The sterile scent of medical instruments made her stomach churn. She couldn’t bear to look at them. Not now. Not after everything. She could still feel the doctor’s cold eyes on her, taste the blood on her gnawed tongue, hear the snap of his gloves.

The ground shook a little. Nova felt something massive settling down beside her, and heard Optimus’ voice. 

“Nova?” he said softly.

“He’s out there,” she huffed, her arms tightening around her head. “He’s back. He’s going to find me. He’s going to get me—“ 

“Look at me,” said her guardian. 

She didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” 

“Ultra Magnus was wrong to speak to you that way,” Optimus replied. “I have asked him to treat you with temperance.”

“You think I’m like him, don’t you?” she muttered, her voice muffled.

“What?”

“When you look at me, you think of Megatron,” she continued through gritted teeth. “You think I’m gonna turn out like him.”

“Nova,” said Optimus. “Look at me, please.” 

Her hands fell from her face, but her listless eyes would not leave the floor.

With a small frown, Optimus reached out, his large finger brushing aside her white lock. “What’s this?”

Nova shrugged, parroting what she had heard from Agent Fowler about his grey hair.

“Stress,” she mumbled.

Optimus frowned. “Does that happen to young humans often?”

“I’m very stressed.”

“I … suppose you are.” Optimus sighed a little. “I do think of Megatron when I look at you, not because I fear you are like him, but because I wish he were more like you.”

Nova looked up at him, the hollowness leaving her eyes for a moment. “What?”

“You both have similar origins,” he explained. “Our people did not treat Megatron with any kindness, and he could not escape his bitterness for them. You both have been given reason to hate your own kind.”

She was silent for a moment, processing his words.

“But … I do hate them,” she murmured. “I can’t even go to the store without freaking out.” 

“But you have found the strength to fight your hatred,” Optimus said softly. “You have even made friends. Despite everything you have suffered, you’ve chosen to do what is right."

She sighed. 

"Nova, I nearly gave up on my own life after we lost our base," Optimus said. "I think you know this." 

“Yeah," she frowned. “I’m still mad at you for that.”

"I was ready to die,” he admitted. “But even when I had lost the will to carry on, you fought to change our fate, and because of that, you gave me something most people encourage me to lose.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

Optimus smiled faintly. “Hope.”

Nova stared at him, her heart finally settling a little. But she dropped her eyes again, her body deflating. 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled. “I think I lost mine.” 

He knelt a little lower, lifting her chin. “Nova, I know things have been different since Darkmount, and I know you feel powerless right now, but I will keep you safe. We all will. You just have to trust us.”

With a small shrug, Nova finally gave him a half-smile. “Okay.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The lockdown protocols were well underway. The three children and June had been escorted to a safe bunker on Fowler’s orders, far from the base where Arkeville might try to strike.

From the shadow of the hangar doors, Nova had watched them go, her heart sinking with each step. They were smart to get the children away. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and that meant she had to stay behind with the other adults, to face the problem herself.

An awful silence followed in the wake of their departure. The usual merry clamor of video games and laughter and ribbing had been replaced with clean floors and empty couch cushions. 

Nova remained on Optimus’ shoulder the whole day, refusing to descend even when rations were offered. She spoke little, but Optimus could feel the tension radiating from her. Even with the reassuring presence of four strong Autobots nearby, her mind would not be soothed.

As the hours passed, Nova kept telling herself she was safe. I’m with Optimus. Arkeville can’t get me here. 

But her body knew that was a thin excuse. She could not stay on his shoulder forever, and the minute she stepped down, she would be on the enemy's turf. 

Her heart raced erratically, her searching eyes blown open like those of a rabbit who senses the presence of a dog. Time seemed to stretch, drawing every torturous minute out on a rack. The base felt cavernous and empty without the others, and yet, not empty enough for her paranoid thoughts.

The day dragged on in agonizing slowness as they moved from task to task. Nova clung to Optimus all the while, her nerves growing more frayed with each passing hour. Everything was suspect — every empty box was a hiding place for an enemy, and every creak of the pipes was the sound of Arkeville coming to get her.

At one point, Optimus ducked into a storage room to take out a few cubes of Energon. As he stooped, Nova’s eyes flicked around the room, scanning the shadows. She could’ve sworn something moved out of the corner of her eye. A flicker. Just for a second.

What was that?

Her breath hitched, and her pulse surged, pounding in her ears. She snapped her gaze toward the spot, but there was nothing. Just the empty corner. Still, she couldn’t shake the idea that something was watching her. Something with eyes. Wide, staring, unblinking. She shut her own eyes tight, trying to block it out. It’s not real. It’s all in your head.

But when she opened them again, the afterimage was there, hovering in her peripheral vision like a ghost. Pale, lifeless, watching. Always watching. She dug her fingers into Optimus’ plating, desperate for an anchor.

Optimus glanced at her. “Are you alright?”

Nova forced her grip to relax. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Her voice sounded too high-pitched, but Optimus didn’t press her. 

It was late that evening when Ratchet called Optimus over to the main console, pointing out something on one of the monitors. “Optimus, I believe I’ve found some potential Predacon fossil sites. I mainly restricted my search to historical locations, since Predacons seem to have been a large part of human culture.”

Optimus leaned down, studying the list closely, but Nova hardly registered the conversation. She was too focused on the reflection in the glass of the monitor. She could see her own face, pale and strained. And behind her — there, just over her shoulder — a pair of eyes.

Coby’s eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat, a shudder running through her. She blinked rapidly, trying to make the image disappear, but it wouldn’t. Her brother’s eyes, cold and sharp, stared at her through the glass.

You?

Optimus noticed her trembling and turned to her, his voice gentle but firm. “Nova, you need to rest. You’ve been with me all day.”

“No,” Nova whispered. Her voice was small, thin, betraying the fear she was trying to bury. “I want to stay with you.” 

Optimus sighed softly, his optics narrowing in concern. “I understand. But you cannot stay awake forever. You need sleep.”

Nova opened her mouth to argue, but Smokescreen stepped forward. 

"You know," he grinned. "I could sit by your room while Optimus works. If you want.”

Her gaze flicked to him, her heart pounding. Smokescreen had been willing to stick by her so many times, even when he shouldn’t have stayed, even when she’d been difficult or caught up in her darkest moods. But despite her prickly attitude and all her insults, he never left. 

It was stupid, but for the first time, there was something comforting about the thought of having him nearby.

But still, she hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Optimus reassured her. “Smokescreen will not let you out of his sight.”

Smokescreen grinned, saluting smartly. “Guardsman’s honor, I’ll keep watch the whole time. No creepy old scientists getting past me.”

Nova allowed herself a small smile, though it felt hollow. She knew Smokescreen meant well, and deep down, she wanted to trust him. But a part of her couldn’t let go of the fear. 

I’m not safe. I’m not safe.

She watched with wide eyes as he held out his palm to her. 

“I’ve got your back,” he smiled. “You know that, right?”

She let out a soft sigh, stepping slowly into his hand. “Yeah… sure.”

But as the rookie turned and carried her toward her room, the dread only grew. 

“Here you go,” he announced at last, lowering her to the ground. “Casa de Tinytron. Sleep well.” 

With tight lips and stiff chin, Nova let go of his thumb and pushed open the door, letting it swing shut behind her. 

And the darkness swallowed her whole. 

She stood there for a minute with gritted teeth and trembling knees, considering the prospect of sleeping on Optimus’ shoulder the whole night.

Holy frag. Get a grip. You are seventeen years old.

With a deep breath, Nova fumbled her way to the bed, wedging herself inside and pulling the thin blanket up to her nose. Gradually, her eyes began to adjust, and the thin outlines of the walls and furniture began to grow visible. She tried to convince herself that she was safe, that Smokescreen was just outside the door, that Optimus had promised to protect her. But her fear wasn’t rational, and no amount of logic could convince her to close her eyes.

I won’t sleep. They can’t make me. 

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The room was too quiet. Too still. 

Hours had passed, though they felt like minutes to her racing mind. But though she waited with tense spine and bated breath, nothing happened, and nothing jumped out at her. 

Maybe I’m just being silly. 

Nova’s breaths began to even out as her heart settled. Despite herself, her eyes began to droop. 

Something grabbed her leg. 

Her eyes snapped open. Her pulse skyrocketed. She kicked wildly, yanking her leg back toward her chest, desperate to get away from the icy grip, but to her shock, there was nothing there. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she scrambled back, pressing herself against the headboard, her hand clutching her chest as she tried to convince herself to breathe again. 

Just a dream. Just a dream.

She curled in on herself, hugging her legs tightly to her chest, but the feeling of being watched wouldn’t leave her. Something was still … wrong. 

Slowly, her eyes drifted to the far corner of the room.

A shadow stood there.

Tall. Silent. Staring.

Her body went rigid, her eyes widening in horror. The figure didn’t move, didn’t breathe, but it was there. 

Its eyes were blue. 

Nova’s fingers dug into the sheets, her knuckles white, her body tensing as every muscle screamed at her to do something, but what could she do? She wanted to scream, wanted to call for Smokescreen, but her voice was trapped in her throat. She couldn’t make a sound. She was trapped in her own silence, gripped by the terror of what might happen if she made a sound.

It’s not real, she told herself. It’s not real.

The shadow in the corner shifted, ever so slightly. Nova’s heart stopped.

It’s real.

A small whisper wormed its way into her mind, a voice that did not belong to her. 

Molly…

Her skin crawled, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead. The thought of shutting her eyes made her stomach churn. She couldn’t look away—not from those eyes. If she closed her eyes, it would come closer. It would reach her. It would grab her. She was paralyzed, staring into the abyss, and the abyss knew her name.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

The figure began to move, the eyes drifting closer to her as it approached. In the silence, she could hear her own rapid heartbeat, the faint hum of the base around her, and a voice so faint it barely registered in her head.

Find… me. 

Nova’s stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat. 

“Coby?”

Find me… Find me.

She gasped, choking back sobs, her body trembling uncontrollably as the shadow leaned over her bed, fixing his eyes on hers. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the voices, the sounds that shouldn’t be there, but they kept seeping through, and she couldn’t look away. 

Save me…

Her eyes snapped open again. She shot up in bed with a cry. Her body seized with tremors as she scanned the room in a wild panic, her head whipping back and forth, searching the shadows for any trace of the oppressive eyes. But there was nothing.

The room was silent. Empty. Cold.

Nova bolted from her bed and flung the door open, her heart still pounding in her chest. The light from the hallway spilled into the dark room, erasing the shadows and darkness. Her room was empty. 

She heaved a heavy sigh, and turned around to see Smokescreen’s puzzled face, his glowing blue optics turned to her.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly. "It’s like two a.m."

Nova stood there, shaking, unable to calm the storm in her mind. "I — I have to go."

Smokescreen tilted his head, optics narrowing in confusion. "Where?"

"I have to get to Coby’s grave." Her words tumbled out, urgent, trembling. “Right now.”

“What?” Smokescreen stammered. “You — why — what?”

“I think my brother’s trying to tell me something,” she whispered. “Something important.”

“Your brother.”

“Yes.” 

“Your dead brother?" he clarified cautiously. “The one who’s in a grave because he’s dead?”

"Yeah,” Nova nodded vehemently. “He’s been following me all day.”

Smokescreen stared at her, lowering his chin with a raised brow. 

“What?” she hissed. 

“You sound so crazy right now."

She frowned. “Smokescreen—"

"Is this that thing where humans have a dream that feels so real, they think it’s actually real?” he asked in an undertone. “‘Cuz it’s not."

"Smokescreen!" Nova snapped, her voice rising in frustration.

"Look, I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave the base,” he protested, raising his hands. “Optimus told me specifically not to let you out of my sight."

Nova just stared at him.

Smokescreen narrowed his optics, realization dawning slowly as he pieced together her intent. 

"You're a bad influence," he said curtly. 

“Will you relax?” Nova snapped, trying to muster some of her usual bravado. “We’ll be fine. I’ve snuck out plenty of times.”

“Yeah, you’re a terrible role model."

"Smokescreen…" she grabbed his finger and locked eyes with him. "Please don’t make me go back in that room."

For a moment, the silence stretched between them. But as his gaze lingered on her trembling form, Smokescreen’s skeptical frown began to fade, and for a second, something shifted in his expression.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders dropping in defeat. 

“Will it make you feel better if we go?”

"Maybe," she whispered, her voice small.

Smokescreen transformed, his frame shifting with the familiar clanking of metal until his vehicle mode sat before her. His passenger door swung open for her. 

"Then let’s go.”

A small, grateful smile tugged at her lips as she climbed inside. "Thanks, Smokescreen."

He scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was bored anyway."

But as his door closed, and they slowly rolled out of the hangar, the suffocating dread that had held her down in that room didn’t lift. It clung to her like a shadow, lingering long after they left the base behind.

Chapter Text

Nova slouched into Smokescreen’s passenger seat, staring out the window into the darkness as it swallowed up the road beside them. Thankfully, the eyes did not appear.

She sighed, rubbing her face with a clammy hand. Maybe Smokescreen was right. Maybe she really was losing her mind. Coby's grave would be just as she'd left it, Smokescreen would tease her all the way home, and she would finally crawl into bed and accept the fact that all of this was just her mind playing tricks.

She just needed to see it. She just needed to be sure. 

"It's by the old base, right?" Smokescreen asked, his voice breaking through the taut silence as he swung onto a side road.

"Yeah," Nova murmured, her gaze sliding from his steering wheel back to the window. Her heart sank with unexpected sorrow as she watched the blurry ruins speed by. She hadn't seen their old home since the Decepticons destroyed it. It was nothing but a glorified heap of dust, now. 

She felt her face softening a little. I’ll never get to take another nap on that stupid yellow couch…

But she set her jaw. 

“That way,” she pointed. Smokescreen swung onto a dusty side road.  

After a few more minutes of driving, he parked at the base of a dirt path, the kind that could barely be considered a road. The trail climbed a shallow hill, thick with shrubs that concealed the top from view. Nova stared at it, pulse quickening.

“Is this it?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yeah,” she muttered, reaching for the handle. “Wait here—”

“Hang on,” he said, locking the doors. 

Nova glanced back at his steering wheel with a stiff glare. 

“What now?” she snapped impatiently. 

“I get that this is a special place for you,” Smokescreen said, “But I made a promise.” 

“I’m not a child.” 

“That’s right, you’re not,” he retorted. “You’re my friend, and I only agreed to this little field trip because I didn’t want you to get barbecued by a dragon.” 

She froze. “You know about that?”

“I saw claw marks all over that parking lot,” he said. “Your little ‘I fell down’ routine didn’t fool me.” 

Nova winced. Great.

Smokescreen’s engine idled as he transformed, letting her hop out of his hand before he stood upright. 

“Lead on, Tinytron,” he gestured. "We'll check this out together."

Biting back a string of curses, Nova forced herself to turn around and march into the darkness, half-hoping he wouldn’t be able to keep up with her. As she climbed the path, the shadows tangled together, growing darker with every step she took away from Smokescreen’s high beams.

Squinting, she searched for the crude, familiar shape of Coby’s headstone. She and Optimus had built it with rust-red stones so it would be easily visible. Her heart thumped against her ribs as she finally crested the hill.

And the blood drained from her face.

An ugly wound had been torn into the earth. The stones were scattered like meaningless rubble. The yawning grave was empty.

Smokescreen whistled. “Holy…”

As Nova’s eyes took in the grisly scene, her fists tightened, and her breath began to heave in her burning chest. 

Arkeville…

Dread sank in its teeth. Her heart fell from its seat like a frozen bird. The air around her seemed to close in, squeezing her, pressing her. Arkeville had dug up Coby’s body, he had dug up his body and now it was gone. 

He found him. 

He can find me, too.

Her legs wobbled beneath her. 

I’m not safe, her mind screamed. I’m not safe.

If Arkeville could reach Coby's grave without being noticed, what was stopping him from reaching the base? From reaching the others?

I can’t go home.

“Nova?” Smokescreen ventured. “You okay?” 

Nova couldn’t answer. Her body reeled away from the grave, breaths growing shallow as her mind raced. 

She couldn’t go back to the base — she couldn’t lead Arkeville there. That was exactly what he wanted. If she went back, she’d be putting the others in danger.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

She turned around, her eyes wide and unfocused as she staggered away. She knew what had to be done. Arkeville wasn’t just after Coby. He was coming for her, and anyone she dragged into this.

I have to stop him. 

“Where are you going?” Smokescreen asked, trotting after her. 

“Go back, Smokescreen,” she snapped. "Go back to base, and leave me alone."

“Are you insane?” he demanded. “I’m not leaving you here. We just have to — augh!”

Hearing his cry, Nova spun around. “Smokescreen?” 

To her surprise, the rookie had dropped into his vehicle mode, engine humming idly.

Nova lifted her hand, trying to shield her eyes from the glare of his headlights. 

“What the frag?” she hissed. “Why’d you transform?”

He didn’t answer. She approached the car, rapping a fist on the hood. “Hey, what’s your malfunction?” 

Silence. 

Nova’s heart began to pound. “Smokescreen!”

Nothing. 

Her breath hitched, her nerves beginning to fray. Why wasn’t he talking anymore?

Then she heard it. A voice just over her shoulder.

“Hello, Molly.” 

Before she could turn around, an iron hand grabbed her wrist, wrenching her arm into a sharp angle against her back. The world tilted violently as the figure slammed her face-first over Smokescreen's hood. 

Nova cried out, fear shooting through her as she struggled, her heart hammering in her chest. 

"Let go!” she growled, her voice desperate, but her assailant was stronger than she. Before she could throw him off, something cracked sharply against her head.

Her vision blurred as her legs gave way beneath her and she slumped against the car. The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was the empty hole in the ground where her brother used to be.

Save me ...

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Nova’s eyes fluttered open to the dreaded tap-tap sound of water, but the dim glow of bluish light assured her that she was not trapped in the dreaded cave from so long ago. 

With a hiss, she raised her aching head, and heard the clink of short chains before her arms came to a sharp stop. 

With a miserable sob, she tugged against the bindings, but the rusted metal cuffs bit into her wrists and ankles, locking her against the cold surface of a surgical table. Panic began to bubble up as her consciousness returned with a vengeance, and she finally recognized her prison.

Arkeville’s lab. 

The fluorescent lights above her head flickered sporadically, casting fleeting shadows across the cracked, stained walls. The lab was disgracefully rundown, covered in rust and dust and grime, littered with shattered glass and leaking pipes, left to rot along with the horrors that had been birthed there. It looked like a war zone, and felt like a tomb.

She turned her head, wincing from the pain, and spotted Smokescreen. His vehicle mode sat silently in the corner. Unconscious, probably.

He brought us both here.

A low creak echoed from the far corner of the room, and Nova’s heart froze. She squinted into the darkness, at first seeing nothing but debris and grime. Her eyes stopped on a dark stain against the wall. But as she watched, the stain began to curl into a wide, ghastly grin. And that horrible voice spoke to her. 

“It’s been such a long time, my dear.”  

Nova’s body froze, terror flooding her veins as Arkeville stepped from the shadows, his hands clasped behind his stooped back. His skin and flesh hung from his bones like aged leather, and his hair had withered away to almost nothing. The only limb on his body that looked full and healthy was the shoulder above his prosthetic right arm, which stood out starkly against his decaying flesh. 

He leered down at her as she gaped. “Nothing to say?”

Nova’s heart was pounding squarely in her throat, but she forced herself to speak. “What… what did you do to Smokescreen?”

“Smokescreen!” The name brought a glint to his sunken eyes, and his throat rattled with a thin chuckle. “Is that what you call him? First a replacement father, now a replacement brother. Subject Omega and I are appalled, truly.”

She clenched her fists. "Where's Coby?"

“Ah, yes, Coby…” His grin faltered, and for a moment, his expression softened into something that almost looked confused. “My son…”

But a moment later, the cruel, calculating gaze returned. 

“Your friend was fun to drive,” he sneered. “I locked him in his earthly disguise, but it should wear off. No harm will come to him if you give me what I want.” 

Nova felt her teeth begin to clench. “What do you want?”  

“What anyone wants, Molybdenum.” He grinned down at her. “To survive.”

Nova’s fists clenched, the metal cuffs digging deeper into her slick skin. 

“Do not call me that,” she ground out.

“Oh? Struck a nerve, have I?” he sneered. “It’s the name I gave you, isn’t it? Molly and Coby Marshall?” Arkeville chuckled. “You know, I really should’ve named you Icarus and Daedalus, considering how fast you fell from the sky that day.”

“Shut. Up,” she snapped, each word simmering with hate.

“Such hostility! I remember a time you would call me ‘Papa.’” He leaned close, his voice dripping with mock affection. “But I suppose loyalty fades, doesn’t it?”

Nova felt her body tremble, and her words escaped in a low, deadly promise. “I’ll kill you. You hear me? I will kill you!”

“Oh, let’s be civilized about this, shall we?” His tone was mocking. “After all, I would hate to lose another limb to your lack of restraint. Do you remember the day you decided to relieve me of my arm?”

Nova’s muscles tensed as her memories flickered back to that day, to the cold image of his severed arm staining the floor. 

He lifted his metal hand and gave a slow, prideful smile. “I built myself a new one with that precious spinal metal of yours. Well…” he flexed his shining fingers, admiring them in the dim light, “I suppose I should say the arm built itself. The metal seemed to know what I needed.”

Nova pulled against her restraints like a rabbit in a trap, but her wrists only chafed anew. Her armor refused to emerge; it still wasn’t working, and she didn’t know why. Why doesn’t it work? her frantic mind screamed. Why won’t my own body fight for me?

“When I was in prison, they told me I was dying,” Arkeville sighed. “Cancer, they said. A consequence of working with glowing blue rocks for so many years, I suppose. But this,” he wiggled the metal fingers at her. “this arm remained unaffected. I realized that alien metal of yours was adaptable. Not only did it provide me with an excellent prosthetic, but it began to repair me, to heal." 

Arkeville’s gaze hardened, his grim eyes lingering on his hand as it slowly drew into a fist. “I needed … more.” 

Nova's breath quickened. “What did you do?”

His gruesome smile crept back to his lips as he began to circle her, dragging his metal fingers along the table’s edge with a sickening hiss. 

“When they were transferring me for treatment, I picked up a faint signal. Your brother’s old tracker. So, I escaped.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “I went to him.” 

Nova’s fear began to shift towards something else. 

“You dug him up…” she realized. “You used him!” 

Arkeville’s expression twisted with a mix of irritation and pain. He shuddered, and his hand flew up to press his temple. 

“I thought—” he stammered, his voice splintering as he struggled with the words. “I thought his metal would be enough to sustain me.” His gaze darkened, his fingers clawing into his scalp. “But the dead… the dead cannot help me now.”

Abruptly, he grabbed a syringe from the nearby cart, his shadow falling over her as he leaned in, inches from her face. She could smell the decay on him, the stench of flesh rotting on living bone, and a fresh wave of dread rolled over her.

“No, the dead do not heal the living. But you…” Tenderly, his hand brushed her cheek, cold metal meeting hot tears. “You are the survivor, the last living source. You are what will save me. Yes. You will save us all.”

Eyes wild, teeth gritted, Nova’s heart raced, bile rising in her throat as his words slithered in. She yanked against her restraints, her wrists flowing with new blood, but she was trapped. Helpless, she looked over at Smokescreen, frozen and powerless in the corner, unable to protect her.

“Don’t worry, little one.” Arkeville raised the syringe, his eyes gleaming with maddened hunger. “It will only hurt for a moment.”

Her eyes widened, terror consuming her as she struggled, desperate to get free, desperate to fight. But all she could do was watch, helpless, as the needle glinted in the air above her.

“No!”

Nova’s screams grew strangled as Arkeville pressed her head down against the cold metal table. Her muscles strained against the rusted restraints, but her strength was fading fast. She felt the prick of the needle as it sank into the back of her neck, cold and sharp, a tendril of pain slinking down her spine.

“Shh,” he murmured, his metal arm braced across her shoulders. “Close your eyes, and count to ten. Just like we used to.”

Her vision blurred, the room spinning as he drew the syringe back, now filled with a shimmering, silvery liquid — her cerebrospinal fluid. She watched in horror as he lifted the vial to his face, staring at it with perverse reverence. Then, without hesitation, he injected it into his own arm, his face lighting up with a manic glee as her cybermatter entered his bloodstream.

Immediately, silver ribbons began to slither up his shoulder, spreading over his skin like water. Nova watched in horror as her own metal grafted itself into aging flesh and sinew. His back arched, and he let out a low, shuddering laugh as the silver overtook his right eye. 

“Yes…” He hissed. “Finally whole again.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers flaring as the transformation surged through him. The old man's crooked posture fell away, his body began to straighten itself out, his right eye gleamed with an inhuman light as the metal reached his brain. His trembling left hand traced the new plating across half his chest, reveling in it. 

“What a wonderful gift,” he murmured.

Nova’s head lolled against the table, her breath growing shallow as her strength waned. She was trapped, helpless, watching as he pranced before her, reveling in the vitality he had stolen.

“You… monster,” she whispered.

Arkeville turned to her, a delighted grin spreading across his twisted face. “Who's a monster?” 

He went to the little cart to retrieve a cracked mirror, and Nova’s gaze drifted once again to Smokescreen, still stuck in the corner, a silent testament to her colossal failure to protect anybody from her past. Her eyes lingered on him, guilt weighing heavy in her chest. 

He got dragged into this because of me.

A wave of despair washed over her, but then something else ignited, a devouring fire, something the Nova in her nightmares loved more than anything else.

Rage.

She felt it swelling inside her, eclipsing her terror until all she could see was Arkeville, coated in her metal and her brother's blood, flaunting his new power like a trophy. 

Never again.

Teeth clenched, she pulled against the restraints, every muscle screaming, blood slicking her wrists. With the stubborn resolve of a dying man, she yanked again and again, each time pushing herself past the point of pain, past the point of caring, until finally, with a brittle snap, one of the rusted clamps gave way. She reached around, keeping her eyes on Arkeville’s back, until, with a sharp, burning twist, she snapped the other.

She rolled off the table and struggled to her feet. Her legs shook, but she was up.

“Arkeville!” she barked. 

He spun to face her, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“You took my brother,” she growled. “You hurt my friend.” 

“Oh, does that upset you?” he sneered, bracing himself. “And what are you planning to do about it, little girl?”

Without a second thought, Nova lunged at him.

Her fists flew. The only sounds filling the room were her ragged cries and the staggered smack of her fists against his armored chest. But the right half of his body was now clothed in steel, and her blows hit him like pebbles against a tin roof.

He sneered, his face twisting in amusement as he let her punch him until she was breathless and coughing.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he sneered, grabbing her by the arm and twisting it. She let out a strangled cry, but pushed past the pain, driving her knee into his groin. The blow made him stagger, but only for a second. He recovered quickly, ramming his fist into her side like a hammer. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, sending her stumbling back with a choked gasp.

But instead of advancing on her, Arkeville hesitated, suddenly frantic, clapping a hand to his temple. 

“No!” he clutched his head. “Leave me alone!”

Nova’s blood ran cold as Arkeville’s face twisted in agony. For a brief moment, his voice shifted, softening into something younger, lighter. His right eye began to glow blue.  

“Nova… help me,” he whimpered. It was Coby’s voice, calling out to her. “Please…”

Tears burned behind Nova’s eyes. 

“Coby…?” She choked, her mind spinning. She had killed that poor boy with her own hands to save him from Arkeville’s control. And now… now he’s stuck in there.

Taking advantage of her shock, Arkeville recovered his stance, his metal arm glinting as he raised it high. He backhanded her across the face, and she tasted blood as she crashed into the wall, sliding down to her knees. 

She could feel her body giving out. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself back up, only for his fist to crack across her chin, snapping her head to the right. She fell, gasping, her muscles seizing with exhaustion.

Nova barely had a moment to collect her breath before his boot pressed down on the back of her head, forcing her face into the cold, hard floor. She spluttered, watching the strands of blood fly from her mouth and paint crazy lines across the concrete.

“Poor, poor Molly,” he crooned. “How will you beat me without your precious armor?”

A low growl rattled in her throat, and she gripped his ankle, her stubby nails bending against the metal. She was battered, bruised, barely able to see straight. Her childish anger was the only thing she had left, and it wasn’t enough. 

Then, through the haze, she noticed a sharp gleam reflecting up from the blood spattered across the floor. The concrete took on a blue tint as a vivid light began to spill from her eyes. In that moment, she finally came to an important realization.

I’m not afraid of him anymore. 

With a surge of strength, she shoved her head up and twisted his ankle, throwing him off balance. He stumbled, and she used the momentum to shove him backward, slamming him into the wall.

“I don’t need my armor to beat you,” she huffed, getting to her feet. 

Arkeville’s composure shattered as he watched her stand, a growl escaping his lips. 

“Ungrateful child!” he spat, his face contorted with fury. “Why won’t you join me? I gave you everything. Power. Strength. I gave you a name!”

He lashed out, swinging his fist towards her, but she ducked inside his swing, countering with a punch to his throat. Arkeville let out a strangled wheeze, stumbling back, his hand clutching his neck as he struggled to regain his breath.

The venom in her voice was lethal. “I don't care.” 

The broken chains rattled as her fists flew into his face, one after the other, over and over and over again. Struggling to block her blows, Arkeville’s strength waned as Nova’s waxed in full. He crashed against the wall, feebly trying to block her flying hands.

Nova didn’t recognize it at first. She was too focused on breaking Arkeville’s defenses, too consumed by her fury to notice the changes taking shape in her body. But then, with each punch, a familiar warmth began to surge in her chest. Her bones began to hum, and she felt the rivets of metal along her spine come alive again.

Staggering back, she watched as her long-dormant armor latched over her bloody hands, plating her shoulders, her chest, her legs. Her eyes flared like stars. The entire room lit up in blue.

She could feel it all, every single piece. She was finally herself again.

Arkeville’s breath hitched as he pushed himself upright, his pale face streaked with blood. For the first time, real terror bloomed in his face. He clutched his precious prosthetic, eyes darting around the room, desperately searching the room for any shred of deliverance.

Nova took a step toward him.

“Look at you,” she shook her head with a grim smile. “I almost feel sorry for you.” 

“Please … Molly ... Nova,” he whispered, his voice trembling, reaching out a shaking metal hand toward her. “Mercy … I beg you…”

She paused, breath heaving as she stared at the stolen cybermatter crawling up his face like a vile infection. Her face curled into a snarl. 

“You used my brother like a drug,” she snarled. “It’s way too late for mercy.” 

“Please…” Choking on blood, he scrambled away from her, crawling toward the nearest door.  "I don’t want to die!"

Nova’s eyes blazed as she advanced. “Coby didn’t want to die, but it was the only way he could escape what you did to him!” 

Arkeville backed into a corner, eyes wide with terror as Nova seized his throat, pinning him against the wall like a wriggling bug. He struggled to get up, coughing, but his strength was gone. She held him tight, her gaze cold, watching him writhe, and for a moment, she almost felt nothing — no fear, no hatred, just the raw, steady determination of finishing something that needed to end.

“Close your eyes,” she said lowly. “And count to ten.”

He raised his shaking hands in a last, pathetic plea. 

“Wait,” he rasped. “Don’t kill me! Don’t you want answers?”

Nova paused. “Answers?” 

He nodded frantically. “To all your questions! Don’t you want to know who you are?”

For a brief moment, Nova froze. His words wormed their way into her mind, stirring old worries she had fought to suppress. Who I am...

Arkeville’s lips slanted in a twisted grin as he sensed her hesitation.

“Don’t you want to know where you came from?” he gurgled.

She took a slow breath. 

“I don’t care anymore,” she growled. “I don’t care who I am.” 

Despite the immense pain etched across his decaying features, Arkeville let out a low, guttural laugh. “Yes, you do. I bet it keeps you up at night.” His eyes remained locked on hers. “The questions. The wondering. The dream.”

Nova's heart skipped, her mind reeling as a thunderous frown gathered on her brow. How does he know about that?

“Shut up!” she snapped out loud, her voice trembling with anger. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Optimus says I’m an Autobot now.”

“Optimus!” Arkeville spat, his voice cracking with madness. “Optimus has no idea who you really are, does he?” He laughed, blood dripping from his mouth. “You think pretending to be a hero will save you?”

Nova couldn’t answer. His words—each one a poisoned barb—took every question she had ever feared to ask and hurled it back at her. Arkeville's grin widened as he saw the cracks in her resolve.

“You want to escape your destiny,” he gurgled. “But you can’t. Nothing can change it now."

A few moments of silence passed. Then, a shadow fell across Nova’s face as she tilted her head, making her eyes glow even more eerily as she dug her fingers into his neck.  

“I’m done listening to you,” she growled.

But before she could finish him, she heard a voice — harsh, young, familiar. “Stop!”

Her breath caught. She froze.

“Back off,” the voice repeated, and this time, she recognized it. It wasn’t Arkeville anymore.

It was Coby.

The old man’s cybernetic eye was flaring blue, and her brother's brash young tone flew out of his withered mouth. "You have to listen to him, Nova."

Nova’s grip loosened, her heart hammering in her chest as the sound of that voice filled the room.

“Coby?” she whispered. Her mind spun, caught between fear and joy. But there it was again — her brother’s voice, emerging from the madness, speaking through the dying man who had destroyed them both.

“He knows what happened to us,” Coby rasped. “Let him talk. He’s had enough.”  

The blue glow left Arkeville's mechanical eye as Coby’s voice faded away. Nova’s stomach churned, her fingers trembling as she let go of Arkeville’s throat and let him crumple to the floor. Her breath ran ragged, her heart pounding with the horror of what she had been about to do.

The old man stirred. 

“You’re … not going to kill me?” Arkeville rasped, his eyes narrow.

“No,” Nova whispered, the finality in her voice surprising even herself.

Arkeville let out a dry, humorless chuckle that quickly dissolved into a hacking cough. “You’re not going to… help me, either?”

"No." 

For a moment, the old scientist stared at her, fury flaring in his gaunt, watery eyes. He looked ready to fight, to claw for survival with whatever was left in him. But the fight faded just as quickly. His face twisted in a grimace, and he let out a ragged sigh, accepting the inevitable.

“I suppose it wouldn’t do much good to say I’m … sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Nova’s jaw tightened. “Probably not.”

Arkeville’s gaze dropped, a faint flicker of something — regret? — crossing his features. 

“Well, I ... I am sorry,” he murmured. “I never meant for Coby to die. I just wanted him to … bring you back. You two were all I had, you know.” 

Nova said nothing, watching as his smile faltered, replaced with a hollow, broken expression. He looked so small now, fragile, nothing like the monster she had known. She could see death creeping in, but there was something else in his eyes as he looked at her — a strange, almost fatherly pride.

“You really are a grand machine,” Arkeville said, his voice trembling. “I could never really create something as wonderful as you.”

He lifted his shaking hand, fingers trembling like the brittle bones of a bird. 

“Here,” he muttered. “Prop up your old man.”

Nova hesitated, but something in her softened as she took in the pathetic sight. Slowly, she reached out and took him into her arms, cradling the last remnants of both her brother and her tormentor. He was a twisted, vile man, but he was also the closest thing to an earthly father she had ever known, and  there was something sad about seeing him like this. She held him with a sort of grim respect as he took his last breaths in her arms.

“Tell me the story,” she said softly, her voice breaking through the thick, tense silence.

Arkeville licked his cracked lips, his breath shallow and labored. His voice was faint now, each word a struggle. 

“Six years ago,” he began, “A meteor fell to Earth. Our agents found two young teenagers in the crash… dressed in grey.” He paused, drawing in a painful breath. “You two were comatose… suspended in sleep… as if waiting to be woken up for school.”

Nova’s heart twisted as she leaned in, her attention hung on every rasping word.

“We did wake you,” he continued. “We shouldn’t have. You were the one who came right out the gate… guns blazing. You killed a lot of soldiers that day.” His eyes flickered, haunted by the memory. “But your brother… he was slower. More curious.”

His breaths became more strained, but he pushed through, the story clawing its way out of him. “As we fought you… we realized… you were attacking as a protective mechanism. The only way to tame you…” Arkeville wheezed, “…was to infiltrate your minds… give you… another identity.”

“And you wiped us,” Nova says flatly, already knowing the answer.

“No. Your memories… were already erased. Wiped clean,” Arkeville murmured. His voice faltered as he looked at her, his eyes glassy with pain. “Your mind couldn’t wait to latch on to the idea of a normal life. We uploaded new memories for you without a hitch. But Coby… he held on to his. It took a while to wear him down—”

A sudden fit of coughing interrupted him, and when the coughs stopped, his eye was blue once again. 

“They never did wear me down, you know,” Coby’s voice said. “Not really.”

“Coby!” she cried, leaning in to hug him. “Is it really you?” 

“Ow,” he grunted as she squeezed his decaying host. “Why wouldn’t it be me?”

“Well, last time I thought I saw you, it was actually Death playing a trick on me,” she explained with a weary smile. 

“Oh,” he coughed. “Yeah, that guy’s a real jerk.”

“You met him, too?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly. “He wasn’t happy to see me. I think you were supposed to die first. But you didn’t, thanks to me.” 

He raised Arkeville’s hands in a weak hurrah. “Yay!”

“Coby, is it true?” Nova asked, her voice breaking. “Are we… aliens?”

He snorted, then winced in pain. “Of course we’re aliens. Look in the mirror, dude.”

Nova's face fell, the weight of it sinking in. 

I’m not even human. I never was.

“But why does it matter?” Coby asked softly. “Superman was an alien, too. People love that guy.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. Here they were, talking about superheroes and aliens like nothing had changed, like they could still be kids. For a brief moment, she let herself feel the comfort of his voice, of having her brother back, even if it was slipping away too fast.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I missed me too,” he joked, then let out a shaky breath. “I … I guess you still don’t remember why we’re here, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. But I… I do keep dreaming about waking up in a tube.”

Coby closed his eyes for a moment, nodding. “Yeah. That wasn’t just a dream. It’s… it’s the place we were made.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Born?”

He grimaced, shaking his head. “Made.”

“Who made us?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “One of them."

"The titans?" she demanded. "The Decepticons?"

"I think so. I didn’t ask for a business card.”

“But, why?” Nova’s voice trembled. “What were we made for?”

“To bring back what they lost,” he muttered, his voice weaker now. “To build a world they couldn’t have.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “To destroy Earth?”

“Yeah,” Coby huffed. "And you gotta stop them." 

“But what if I can’t win, Coby?” she whispered, tears welling up. “What if I just make everything worse?”

“Who cares?” Coby let out a weak, bitter laugh. “You don’t run from things. You never have.”

Nova shook her head, the tears finally slipping free. “But I do run from things. All the time. I can’t do it without you.”

“You’ve been doing it without me all along,” he said softly. “You killed one of them, Nova. You stopped one, and they were afraid. You’re our best shot.”

She was silent, the weight of his words sinking in. 

“What do I do, Coby?” 

Coby’s voice grew fainter, his grip on her hand loosening. “You gotta finish what you started.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her voice breaking as she stared into his fading eyes. “Coby, I can’t watch this again. I can’t lose you.”

He gave a weak, lopsided smile. “You’re not losing me. I’ll see you again … just not for a long time, okay?”

She bit her lip, a sob escaping her as she gripped his hand tighter. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Coby whispered, his voice barely audible now. “Give ‘em a good fight, Superman.”

She nodded through her tears. “I will.”

With a soft sigh, Coby’s eyes fluttered shut, his hand slipping from hers.

As Coby’s last breath left his body, Nova sat frozen in the heavy silence that followed. Her chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked from the room. Heavy grief pressed down on her, and her hand lingered on Arkeville’s still one, gripping it with the small hope that her brother might come back. But he didn’t.

A faint, raspy groan broke the silence.

Nova's eyes flicked to Arkeville, who stirred against the wall. His face twisted in pain as he slowly came to, his eyes blinking open. He let out a wet cough, blood staining the corners of his mouth, and grimaced as he tried to push himself up.

“Well,” he croaked, his voice gravelly, broken. “I guess… this is it.”

Nova rose to her feet, her muscles aching, her breath still shaky from losing Coby. For a moment, she stared down at Arkeville, unsure of what to say. There were so many things she wanted to scream at him, so much anger she could have unleashed. But she didn’t.

Arkeville’s head tilted back as he gazed up at her through half-lidded eyes. “You... really have grown up, haven't you?”

Nova swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She didn’t respond right away, couldn’t find the words. The sight of him, so fragile now, almost pathetic, seemed at odds with the man who had caused her so much pain.

Arkeville didn’t argue. Instead, he closed his eyes, his chest barely rising now. “I’m glad I got t-to see you again,” he murmured, his voice faint. “Even if it was like … this.” 

The room grew quiet again. Nova sat there, watching him, her heart pounding in her ears. A part of her wanted to walk away, leave him to die alone. But she couldn’t. 

She drew closer to him, though every part of her screamed against it. Slowly, she reached out and placed a hand on his metal arm. The touch made him flinch, but he didn’t pull away.

“I forgive you,” she whispered.

Arkeville’s eyes flicked open. For a moment, he just stared at her, disbelief etched into his paling face. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a weak smile. 

“You …” he murmured, his voice fading. “You really are … different.”

His body gave a final shudder, his chest rising one last time before his head slumped to the side, eyes growing dim as death claimed him.

Nova exhaled a shaky breath, pulling her hand back, but the metal didn’t let go. It clung to her fingers like a magnet, slithering up her armor and into her spine. She flinched at first, but the old man’s cybermatter snaked across her skin, winding up her limbs, fusing seamlessly with her armor.

She felt complete, like an puzzle with the last of its pieces finally put into place. 

Shakily, she got to her feet and stood morosely over Arkeville’s limp form, heart pounding in her chest. 

It was finally over. 

With a deep sigh, Nova tapped her finger to her ear, opening Fowler's comms.

A groggy voice came through. “Hm? Who’s this?” The man sounded like he’d just woken up.

“It’s Nova,” she said flatly. “We found your escaped convict.”

There was a sudden shift in Fowler’s tone. “Arkeville?! Where are you, kid? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, though her body ached. “Arkeville attacked us, but he's been… dispatched.”

A moment of silence, then a sharp exhale. “I’ll send a cleanup crew. What’s your location?”

Nova flicked a brief tracking tag to him. “I’ve sent it. Have Ratchet home in on the coordinates.”

“You gonna need a bridge back?” Fowler asked, his voice more formal now, but still edged with concern.

She glanced at Smokescreen’s still form. “We’ll probably drive back.”

“Copy that. Be careful, alright?”

“Will do.” Ending the call, she exhaled and leaned back against Smokescreen’s vehicle mode, waiting for her body to heal. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her feeling heavy, sore. She stretched out her legs and closed her eyes, letting the silence settle around her as the pain in her wrists slowly ebbed away.

A few minutes later, Smokescreen jolted awake, transforming with a yelp. 

“Nova!” He shot to his feet too quickly, and immediately cracked his head on the low ceiling of the lab. “Ow! What — where are we?”

Nova looked up at the stumbling rookie, bemused despite herself. 

“I guess you could say this is my old house,” she said simply, watching as Smokescreen awkwardly hunched in the tight space, scanning the room with clenched fists.

“What happened?” His voice was urgent, eyes darting around for threats. “Where’s Arkeville? Did he hurt you?”

“It’s over,” she interrupted, softer than she usually was with him. “He’s dead. Fowler’s sending a crew.”

Taking in the grim sight of Arkeville’s remains, Smokescreen blinked, disappointment filling his face. “Wait… I missed the fight? All of it?”

"Yeah. Sorry."

He groaned in irritation. “I’m supposed to be watching your back, not napping through the grand finale…”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fight.” Nova stared down at her hands, guilt tugging at her. “I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this, Smokescreen. I’m -- I'm sorry.”

Smokescreen frowned, his expression softening as he crouched beside her. “Nova, it's okay. Families are supposed to look out for each other.”

His words caught her off guard. Family. It wasn’t a word she thought of often, unless she was talking to Optimus. But Smokescreen had been there, through everything, even when he didn’t have to be. Slowly, a small, genuine smile bloomed beneath her mask — a smile she didn’t wear often enough.

Smokescreen’s eyes lit up. “Oh, hey! You got your armor back! Looks awesome.”

Nova held out her arms, the gauntlets glinting under the lights. “Yeah. I’m back to normal,” she shrugged sheepishly.

He watched her for a moment, his expression softening further. “You ready to get out of here?”

She hesitated, then held her arms up to him in a silent request, her eyes avoiding his. 

With a smile, Smokescreen bent down, lifting her with the same careful touch he always used. He was getting better at holding humans, especially her.

Transforming, he gently set her in his passenger seat and waited for her seatbelt to click. “Optimus is gonna kill us, you know.” 

Chapter Text

A rare period of tranquility had settled over the Nemesis' bridge, and for the last few hours Soundwave had been determined to use it wisely. The tapping of his fingers on the keypad was the only thing interrupting the silence, and he liked it. Finally, he could get some real work done. 

A sharp alert blipped onto the monitor screen, and he paused. An Autobot signal? 

He pulled up the map, isolating the origin in an instant. Which of the Autobots was bold enough to venture out of their base without shielding at a time like this?  

The girl.   

Interesting. Soundwave assumed the Prime escorted her everywhere, especially now that she had drawn the personal attention of the Decepticon warlord. For her to be outside and potentially alone was either a golden opportunity or a poorly-concealed trap. 

Either way, it warranted Megatron's attention. 

He reached for the comms. He and Megatron had established their own little way of communicating over the years, and Soundwave trusted their leader to infer his urgency from something as simple as a ping. But before he could send the transmission, the doors slid open, and someone walked in.  

To outsiders, Soundwave's extreme sensitivity to sound may have seemed like an incredible tactical advantage. Some called it a mutation. Others called it a superpower. Megatron liked to call it a gift. 

But every time Starscream opened his mouth, Soundwave called it a curse. 

“Soundwave! Lord Megatron requires more supplies for our dear Shockwave’s latest abomination of science. See to it that they are taken from our inventory record, at once!”  

Soundwave had no doubt that Megatron had instructed the disgruntled Seeker to “see to it" himself. Unbothered, he turned back to the monitor. If Starscream wanted lackeys, he'd have to look elsewhere. 

"As if this atrocity needs so many resources," Starscream groused. "I was under the impression that Project Predacon was nearly complete. This level of over-preparation seems a bit illogical, wouldn't you say? I would never waste precious resources to that degree, especially since someone decided to recall all of our mining forces. So much for logic. Honestly, I fail to see the basic intelligence behind Shockwave's decisions much of the time-" 

The CO pulled up the map again. The signal was moving fast. At that speed, she was most likely not alone, but the troops reported that she had been recently seen in the company of the Autobots’ latest liability – Smokescreen, wasn’t it? If he was with her, capturing the half-spark would not be a problem. 

Starscream was still talking. Tuning him out was proving more difficult than usual. 

"And did you see the way he looked at me when I got reassigned to dog-sit his belligerent beast? I could have sworn he planned that, to spite me, no doubt. Jealousy is an ugly trait. Fortunately for him, I chose to rise above the insult – to ‘be the bigger man,’ as the humans say–”

The impatient computer reiterated the alert, loud enough to interrupt the Seeker’s tirade. 

"What is it, Soundwave?" he demanded. "What have you found?" 

Uninvited, Starscream bent over the keypad, and just like that, Soundwave's business was no longer his own. 

"An Autobot energy signature?" Starscream cried. "And the Prime's insufferable pet? This is my – er, our chance!" He tapped a few buttons. "We must send out a squadron of troopers at once!" 

Soundwave gave a single shake of his head. Megatron would have understood what he meant. Megatron would have taken that subtle gesture and interpreted a rousing no. 

But he wasn't speaking to Megatron, was he? 

"I fully agree, Soundwave," Starscream chirped, pressing a few more buttons. "The chance to seize Megatron's prize should not be squandered. I should send two squadrons, at least!" 

Soundwave seized the Seeker's wrist. 

Starscream froze for an instant, then gave a knowing smirk. 

"Jealous, are we?" he purred. "Fear not, Soundwave. I will ensure you get partial credit for my victory. What's most important is that Shockwave gets none, you see." 

Soundwave pieced his audio clips together quickly. "Do not – engage –" 

But Starscream had already usurped the entire computer. 

"Nonsense. You worry too much, Soundwave," he said in an undertone as he opened the comms. "All Eradicons, report to the flight deck!" 

Soundwave began to contemplate the ramifications of murder. 

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

"Baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair makes me overwhelmed--" 

Smokescreen's voice rang out above the blaring music. Nova sat in his driver's seat like a sack of rocks. 

What am I gonna do…? 

She stared out at the dark shapes of the desert bushes whipping by. Overlaid above the crawling roadside were her own hollow eyes reflected in the glass. Arkeville's eyes had looked just like that, when he died, when he took Coby from her once again. 

"You don't kno-o-ow! You don't know you're beautiful!" 

She couldn't even muster up the emotive strength to cry. 

I should have known. All this work to figure out who I am and it turns out I'm a fragging Decepticon. Of course. I am so stupid. 

What am I? Am I a bomb? Maybe an EMP of some kind? Can they just flip a switch and turn me into something else?

Stopping herself, she took a very long, deep breath. Then another.

No. There's no way. I can't be a Decepticon. I'm not even Cybertronian. That's silly.

That stuff in the cave was all just some crazy dream. A dream that stressed me out so much my hair turned white. Yeah. That makes sense. I'm just being paranoid. 

But Arkeville and Coby both seemed so sure... 

She pushed herself back into the seat, readjusting the belt restlessly. It was constricting, being stuck in here, forced to wait and think. 

No. I cant trust them. They're probably wrong. Arkeville went crazy a long time ago, and Coby... 

Nova sucked in another thin breath. 

I probably just imagined talking to Coby. I have enough brain damage for hallucinations, right?

Maybe I'm the one going crazy. 

She sighed, and her driver turned the volume down. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" Smokescreen asked. "You dont like this song?" 

"Don't talk to me," Nova grumbled. 

"You don't like it. I can tell." 

She raised her head. "Huh?" 

He angled the rearview mirror back so she could look at herself. 

"I can tell by your head thingies," he said. 

To Nova's shock, the once-rigid finials on the sides of her helmet were drooping halfway to her neck. 

She shot upright, and as she did so, the finials shot up with her, mirroring her shock. Gaping, she grabbed the mirror for a closer look. 

"See?" Smokescreen said. "Up, down, up, down." 

"Why are they doing that?" Nova demanded. 

"It's not bad," Smokescreen assured her. "We all have something like that. Bumblebee's doors go super crazy when he's mad. And Ratchet-" 

"No, why are mine doing that?" snapped the girl. "They didn't before." 

"I always figured you were just super mad all the time. Like Ultra Magnus. I've never seen his finials move." 

Oh no. Oh no, oh no... 

Nova reached for her wayward prongs, trying to crank them back up to a normal level, but her panic kept forcing them back down. "Great. That’s fragging great. I'm a fraggin’ TV antenna." 

Smokescreen laughed. 

"It's not funny, Smokescreen!" Nova cried. "I don't want everybody to see what I'm thinking." 

"Then just think less," the rookie scoffed. "Easy."      

"Easy for you, maybe," Nova sighed, falling back into the seat. "Just take us home before we both get in trouble." 

"Okay, but it won't be a real road trip without you yelling at me." 

"Smokescreen, shut the frag up." 

"That's better." 

Nova watched the power lines flit by for a few seconds in silence. 

I'm becoming more like them. 

"So..." Smokescreen ventured. "You gonna tell me what happened in there?" 

Nova hesitated. 

Should I tell him? 

She tried it out in her head. 'Hey Smokescreen, it turns out I'm probably some kind of Decepticon sleeper weapon sent to destroy Earth. I'm definitely susceptible to mind control. I killed my own brother, twice. I could lose control at any time. It would be better for everyone if I was dead.' 

No. Frag no. 

I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone.  

"Ooh," Smokescreen cried. "Let's play 'Twenty questions to guess what happened while Smokescreen was knocked out.'" 

"No." 

"Aw, come on. If I'm gonna risk my neck for you, then we gotta have some fun with it." 

Before Nova could fire back, the comms crackled open. 

"What in Primus' name were you two thinking?!" 

Nova sat up again. "Turn it off!" 

Smokescreen turned the comms up. "Hey Doc, what's the word?" 

"The word is slag, since that's what you’re about to be. Nova's tracker is wide open, and you have thirty Decepticons inbound." 

"Gah!" Nova slapped a hand to her helmet. My armor tripped their sensors. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

“Is she there? Is she conscious?” 

Nova shook her head violently, but Smokescreen either didn’t see or didn’t care. “She’s here. You’re on speaker.” 

“Nova, take off the armor,” Ratchet ordered. 

“I won’t,” she snapped.  

“You are going to bring the entire Decepticon army down on you and Smokescreen if you don’t.”

“I don’t care!” 

“Nova, I swear—”

"Uh, can’t we just get a bridge?" Smokescreen asked, swerving around a slow-moving sedan. 

"The Groundbridge is in a reboot phase. I have backup inbound, but if Nova continues to be stubborn then you'll have to hold them off until the reboot finishes or backup arrives."

"We will," Nova fired back. 

"We will?" Smokescreen echoed.

"Just … please don't lead them to the base." Ratchet sounded tired. "And try to keep one another alive, for Primus' sake..." 

"Copy that!" Smokescreen said.

The comms cut off. 

"Now this is fun," the rookie chirped. "I love outrunning Decepticons in the morning."

Nova glared at the rearview. In the night sky, just above the words "OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR," a glint of metal in the moonlight caught her eye. 

"They're here," she said flatly. 

"Hang on—" 

Smokescreen took a hard left. Nova gripped the safety handle before she could be laid out across the center console. 

It's true. They're really out to get me.

"We have to fight them!" she barked. "Turn around." 

"What?!" 

Nova was already ratcheting back her guns. "They're too fast to outrun, and we aren't getting a bridge. Turn around." 

"No way," Smokescreen denied, swerving onto a back road. "What if the Predacon shows up again?" 

"I don't care." 

"I do! I'm supposed to be protecting you." 

Lasers stabbed at Smokescreen's wheels, sending him fishtailing around another corner. 

The half-spark grit her teeth. "Smokescreen, let me out." 

"No." 

Nova's lungs flared, temper boiling as she glared at the steering wheel. For a brief moment she considered grabbing it, violating the unwritten laws of autonomy, yanking him around herself. 

Maybe that would be going too far. But she had to do something. The bogeys in the rearview mirror were closer now. She could nearly make out their insignias. 

They want a half spark so bad? 

Well, that's what they're gonna get. 

With a growl, she unclipped her belt, yanked up the lock stub and shoved the door open. Wind whipped into his vehicle mode as she braced herself between the seat and the street. 

"Hey!" Smokescreen yelped. He slammed on his brakes, tires spitting chunks of rock. "What are you doing?" 

Nova didn't wait for him to stop. She launched herself out of the car, tumbling into a gravelly crouch as she locked her eyes on the sky. 

A streak of red light tore past her helmet, blinding her for a moment. Another hissed over her shoulder before she heard Smokescreen transform behind her. 

"Nova!" He shouted, scrambling back to cover her. "Wait!" 

She ignored him, swinging her guns toward the sky as the flyers came around for another pass. 

Eyes narrowed, she steadied her aim and fired a shot, managing to clip one of them even at his lofty altitude. He careened into the horizon, going up in a burst of flaming smoke. 

"Ha, ha! I got one!" She crowed. "Yes! I think my blasters are getting stronger." 

Smokescreen finally caught up. "What’s wrong with you? Humans aren't supposed to jump out of moving vehicles." 

“I dunno what to tell you,” she shrugged, racking her guns. "You weren’t turning around.”  

"You know, I’m not usually the voice of reason," Smokescreen took a battle stance behind her. "But I thought teammates were supposed to stick together." 

"Go back home if you want," said the girl, firing off another shot at the flyers. "I'm gonna make sure they never mess with me again." 

Her shot landed, and another trooper swerved out of the sky, colliding with his comrade on his way down to oblivion. 

"Whoa!" She pointed with her left barrel. "Did you see that? I got two!" 

"I saw it," Smokescreen was focused on his own aim. "But you're gonna have to do that a few more times." 

"Watch me-" 

The sharp heat of a laser grazed across her chest, a mere hairsbreadth away from her armor. Time slowed. The rippling bolt of light burned a picture-perfect imprint of itself into her eyes. Nova stared at the gleaming ray in a stupor, regarding it with the dull detachment of someone watching a passing leaf in the wind. 

You fear that you were born to kill and be killed. 

You were right. 

An instant later, time was unfrozen, and the laser was gone. The only reminder that she had even come close to being shot in the Spark was a quickly fading warmth. 

In that moment, a switch did flip. Her consciousness kicked down a few levels as an old, terrible feeling arose in her heart – that funny feeling which had so readily overtaken her in her amniotic nightmares.

She remembered the exhilaration of kicking at her glass prison, of digging into live circuits and ripping out wires by the fistful, of staining the ground with the life fluid of her first opponent. She remembered the razor focus and reckless strength her rage had given her, remembered how addicting the taste of victory had become, and one single thought overtook her brain.  

Kill them. 

She brought her gun about, firing off several rounds that went wide, and two that caught a flyer right in the thrusters. 

Four. 

Another shot landed true. 

Five. Six. Seven. 

All else was forgotten. She didn’t care about Smokescreen. She didn’t care about backup. She didn’t care about getting home. 

All she cared about was upping the number. 

Eight. Nine. Ten.

A laser drilled into the ground beside her, sending a spray of dirt and gravel into her visor. 

"Augh! Frag," she snarled, rubbing at her helmet. 

"Look out!" Smokescreen yelled. 

Something hot slammed into her back. A scream leapt from her mouth as she fell to one knee. Most of her armor yanked away from her body like ribbons, leaving all but her head and right arm exposed. 

"Ow," she choked, clutching her side. 

Her left arm was still encased. 

It's okay. I still have a gun.

"Nova!" Smokescreen yelled, crouching beside her as he maintained fire on the Vehicons. Wincing, Nova kept an eye on the flyers. Counting the numbers from both herself and Smokescreen, she figured their enemies had been cut down to twelve, but she wasn't sure. 

"We have to get out of here!" shouted the rookie.

"No," she coughed, hobbling to her feet. "I have to-" 

"Forget it," Smokescreen said, reaching for her with his unarmed hand. "We're getting out of here before it's too late." 

Before she could turn on him, the Vehicons dropped from the sky, landing one by one until they had formed a tight circle around them. 

Exactly twelve. Huh. 

"Welp, too late now," observed Smokescreen. "You wanna take those six, and I'll take these?" 

Nova snorted, rolling her shoulder. "I'm not gonna stop at half, Smokescreen." 

"We'll engage the Autobot!" A trooper cried. "You guys get the half-spark." 

Vehicons moved in, raising their guns. Nova's lungs hitched in some kind of crazed laugh. 

"Let's go!" she yelled, raising her sputtering gun. "I'll take all of you!" 

She stepped back, intending to lean into Smokescreen’s leg for balance, but she stumbled. There was no one there. She whipped around, aghast. Smokescreen was no longer standing with her. 

A laser stabbed into the ground behind her. She spun again, eyes wide. The troopers had tightened their circle of six, isolating Smokescreen with his own opponents and cutting off her aid. 

Nova pivoted around and around as the circle shrank, keeping her gun trained on the nearest Vehicon at all times, but there was nowhere to turn, no corner to back into for protection. She was surrounded.  

"Come on!" She fired off a shot at the nearest trooper's legs, causing him to stumble. Her next shot took out his kneecap, and he went down. His comrades filled his place without a word. 

She raised her arm again, but her gun sputtered. Her heart plummeted. 

I burned through all that fuel already?!

“Frag.” She knocked it against her knee. “Come on…” 

Behind her, Smokescreen was holding his own as best he could, but he had several troopers to deal with, and it would be at least a few minutes before he would be free to help her. 

What do I do? What do I do? 

A laser hit the ground next to her, scorching her clothes. Another came from her right, hitting her in the shoulder that still had armor, but it was enough to throw off her balance. 

"Ah!" 

Two troopers were on her in an instant, pouncing on her like little boys catching a lizard. Nova struggled. Her gun was pinned to her side. 

No!

"I got her!" A Vehicon crowed, and the others joined in, pressing down upon her until she could barely breathe. 

Nova snarled and twisted, writhing beneath their hands, but their claws dug in hard, quelling her attempt to squirm free. 

"Get off!" She choked, but the hands tightened. 

"We have the half-spark! Tell Commander Starscream we need a Groundbridge, ASAP!" 

"On it!" 

Frag. Frag it all! Nova choked out a growl. I'm the worst fraggin’ soldier in the whole wide world- 

"Hey!" a Vehicon yelled. "Who’s that? Did we call for backup?" 

"Holy frag, it's the—" 

A roar of jet engines cut off the trooper's voice, and the next instant something dropped into that lonely backroad, landing with enough force to rattle every loose bolt in the area. 

"It's the Prime!" Someone screamed. 

Optimus hit the ground swinging. The Vehicons scattered, in vain. Nova heard nothing but heavy blows and the screech of metal for a few seconds, and suddenly the hands that bound her were ripped away. 

She took her first real breath just as the sound of a Groundbridge burst above the clamor. 

"Fall back!" a Vehicon shouted, throwing himself headlong into the portal. The others followed suit, until the only ones left on the backroad were the ones who littered the ground. 

Lip curling, fingers digging into the gravel, Nova pushed herself up slowly. She got one leg beneath herself, then another. She looked down at the tatters of her armor with a bitter growl. 

Frag.

A heavy thud shook her balance again, causing her to stagger back as she raised her head. 

And suddenly, Optimus’ blue eyes were all she could see against the night sky. 

She should have been happy to see him. She should have been relieved. But all she could feel was sinking dread. He had ordered her not to leave the base for this express reason, and she ... she had disobeyed. 

Her eyes drifted to Smokescreen, who was sporting a new blaster burn on his leg. He gave her a thumbs-up, but Nova’s heart sank. He had almost been killed twice tonight because of her. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t even help Coby. 

What have I done?

At last, she did want to cry.

I’m not one of them, am I? I've never been one of them.

She began to feel trapped. She was in trouble. They would hate her, and she would deserve it. She had to leave, to get out, before it was too late. Before they found out what she was. Her breath came faster. Her lungs pulled for short bursts of air, and she took a step back. 

But a voice stopped her. 

“Nova,” Optimus said. “Do not run from me.”

Nova couldn’t reply. Her face began to crumple, and she dropped her eyes, but she stayed where she was.  

“Are you hurt?” Optimus asked. 

Nova just shook her head. She could already feel her body starting its repairs, but the embarrassment stung more than anything. For once, she was glad her mental bond with Optimus had been severed. She did not know what she would have done if he was inside her head right now. 

The comms snapped open, making her jump. 

“Optimus, have you found them?” 

Nova felt Optimus’ eyes on her as he replied, “They are safe. Is the Groundbridge ready?”

“Yes, the reboot is complete. Give me a moment.”

“I am sending Smokescreen to you for repairs. Nova and I will return by road.” 

“Understood.” 

The comms shut off, and Nova kept her head down. She didn’t feel like meeting his eyes. 

The Groundbridge opened without ceremony, waiting for the first rebel to make the walk of shame. 

“Optimus, this was my fault,” Smokescreen began. “It was all my idea. If you’re gonna be mad–”

“Smokescreen, return to base,” said the Prime. 

“...Yes, sir.” 

The bridge closed behind the rookie, and Optimus let her linger only a moment longer before speaking.  

“Keep your armor concealed until we return to base,” he directed shortly. 

Agitated, the girl curled around her tattered ribbons. 

“Please don’t make me,” she whispered.

“As long as you wear it, the Decepticons can locate your signal,” was his stern reminder. “I will not have you hunted down.” 

Reluctantly, Nova peeled back the remaining strips of metal, and they receded into her back without complaint. The worry that she would not be able to summon it again needled her, but she sensed this was not the time to address it. 

Optimus transformed beside her, his engine rumbling in the silence, and his passenger door swung open. 

“It is time you and I spoke.” 

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“What is this incompetence?!” Starscream cried. “You dare to return empty-handed?!”

“It was the Prime, sir,” one of the troopers protested. “There was nothing we could—”

“Excuses!” Starscream backhanded the Vehicon, thrusting an outstretched finger toward the door. “Get out of my sight!” 

The four remaining troopers shuffled out, grumbling to themselves. Starscream turned around in a rage, only to be confronted with the silent specter he thought was still standing safely on the other side of the room. 

“Augh! Soundwave!” he recoiled in terror. “You really must learn to announce yourself.” 

Soundwave pointed to the computer, which no longer pinged a signal. The half-spark was gone, and now that the element of surprise was lost, it was unlikely they would ever again have a chance to catch her. 

“Well! Is it my fault that the troops were allowed to slip into such wretched ineptitude while I was away?” Starscream demanded, shoving past the CO and heading for the door. “Let us just be glad that Megatron is yet unaware of—”

“Unaware of what?” Megatron demanded as the door slid open. 

Starscream reeled back. “Ah! Lord Megatron! What brings you to the bridge? I thought you were with Shockwave—”

“I ordered you to catalog the remaining supplies needed for Shockwave's demonstration,” Megatron said primly. “It appears I have arrived just in time to see the fruits of your labor. Thirty troops deployed without my authorization, and sixteen lost? You have some explaining to do, Starscream.”

“But it was a necessary deployment, my liege.” Starscream turned his attention to the CO, who was still standing placidly behind him. “Er, Soundwave brought the matter to my attention. He and I were both attempting to retrieve that half-spark, just as you ordered!” 

With a slow blink, Megatron shifted his gaze to Soundwave, who did absolutely nothing. His language did not allow for wasting a gesture on an obvious lie. 

“Soundwave would have notified me, and followed my further orders, had you not interfered,” Megatron growled. “But your arrogance drove you to act rashly, and that is why you failed.”

“But, my liege—”

“Be silent! I have lost enough time and resources to your insubordination,” Megatron snapped. “Soundwave, see to it that Knock Out is alerted of the necessary supplies.”

Soundwave gave a single nod. 

“As for you,” growled the warlord, gesturing Starscream to the door. “Walk with me.”

Biting back a groan, Starscream followed Megatron to his daily death threat. Soundwave went back to his monitor, though not without some chagrin. That half-spark was the key to Optimus Prime’s downfall, and Starscream’s blunder had been an annoying setback.

No matter. The next time that half-spark was within their reach, Soundwave resolved to retrieve her himself. There would be no mistakes when he went to work. 

Putting on some music to muffle any potential bickering coming from the outer corridors, Soundwave resumed his typing. 

And the bridge was tranquil once more. 

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

 The silence was suffocating, especially since Nova no longer had her guardian’s steadying presence to offset her mind’s hectic thoughts. She missed driving with him like this, but at that moment she would much rather have been anywhere else. 

Finally, Optimus broke the silence. “Nova, when are you going to trust me?”

Nova cringed. She would rather be shot again than have to hear that disappointment in his voice.

But, after all, didn't she deserve it?

“I – I do trust you,” she said weakly, “I just … I had to take care of something.” 

“You took matters into your own hands, and put yourself and Smokescreen in danger. You defied my orders and nearly led the Decepticons to our home. You know better than that.”

“I’m sorry—”

“I am not angry with you, and you are not a burden to me,” said Optimus. “But I want you to tell me what made you desperate enough to do this.” 

Nova closed her eyes. Anything she told him would lead to more questions, and the answers to those questions would change the way he looked at her, forever. 

But she wished she could tell him, all the same. 

“Nova.” 

“I … I can’t,” she ground out. 

 “You can.” 

“I can’t tell you!” she snapped. “I just can’t.” 

Optimus drove for a few seconds in silence. Nova spotted the oblong shape of their military encampment sprawled out in the dark. They were almost home, but just before they turned into the driveway, Optimus gave his final verdict. 

“If you cannot trust me with the truth, and if I cannot trust you to follow my orders, then I cannot allow you to go into the field,” he said grimly. “I am confining you to base until further notice.”

Nova spluttered. “What?! But I just-”

“Do not argue with me. Your actions affect those around you, and you must learn to be responsible before you can go to battle again.” 

Nova groaned. 

Just when I got my armor back. Perfect. 

Optimus pulled into the hangar. It was still the middle of the night, and apart from a glow coming from the makeshift medibay, it seemed no one else was awake to hail the conquering loser. 

"I am leaving for morning patrol." Optimus’ door swung open. “Have Ratchet tend to you, and speak with Agent Fowler.” 

“Don’t wanna.”

“Go.”

Nova clutched at the seatbelt before he could unbuckle it. “Wait...”

The desire to cling to him, to let him see her secrets and assuage her fears, was almost enough to make her blurt out everything. But then she remembered he thought of Megatron every time he looked at her, and the nausea that had been forming in the pit of her stomach worsened.

“What is it?” Optimus asked patiently. 

"You –" she swallowed. "You were chosen to be a Prime, right?" 

"I was."

She shifted. "Well, what if you had been chosen to do something you didn’t wanna do?"

Again he said, "I was." 

"Oh," she sighed. "Yeah. I guess you were."

"Why do you ask?"

She shook her head. "Just ... wondering." 

Holding back tears, she slipped out of the seat and began the slow walk to the medibay, her armor building over her skin with every step. 

I can't tell them.  

I can't let them find out. 

Or I will lose everything.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Sheets of rain swept against the Nemesis’ hull as lightning split the gunmetal sky, illuminating a dragonish figure perched on one of the ship’s prongs. His sharp, golden eyes followed the glowing elevator tube as it descended from the ship’s underbelly. 

The Predacon lashed his tail. His masters had been strangely busy of late. He had watched the endless coming and going of Vehicons, the hurried commands barked by Starscream and Knock Out, the many rooms being cleaned out and reordered for new tenants. He suspected all this fuss had something to do with Lord Megatron’s remarks about a Predacon army. Now, it seemed that their preparations had come to an end, and the titanic beast had made up his mind to investigate. 

Lately, his curiosity had begun to overpower whatever contentment he had once held for his life. Ever since that frail human child had cried out to him – not as a pet, not as a beast, but as a conscious and sentient equal – he had been searching for answers.

He had pored over every single file and image that the tiny communications console on the landing pad could provide, and every time a Vehicon passed him, switching from walking to flying with a mere flick of the limbs, he watched closely. The thought had occurred to him more than once that perhaps he, too, possessed this power. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could change into something different, just like them. 

His maturing curiosity demanded he unlock this secret for himself. Luckily, the daily darkness had provided him with long periods of uninterrupted solitude. Vehicons and commanders alike avoided his side of the ship when it grew dark, so the quiet nights had been his to practice.

He had successfully shifted his legs first, one at a time, then his wings found their ability to fold into his back. His tail had been the most difficult to control, for it was long and made of many telescoping segments, and tended to get tangled in his other moving parts if he went too fast. But each night he pushed his limits with painstaking patience, learning the secrets of his body until he had mastered them all.

And one night, beneath the full moon, he had finally done it. Alone. 

Standing on two legs where there had once been four, he had reached up to touch his own face with his own hands.  

There were none to bear witness to his first steps, none to hear his first growling words, but it mattered not. He would not be alone for much longer. Soon, he would meet others of his kind, and they would share in his triumph. And he would do for them what his masters had not done for him. He would care for them. Yes! He would teach them all to transform, to speak, to become more than they were meant to be. 

Unfurling his wings, the dragon leapt off the ship’s prow and dove into the storm. The darkened table of the earth tilted beneath him as he circled through the clouds, angling himself toward the mouth of the cave below. He alighted with a low growl, shaking the rain from his scales as he slunk into the tunnel. He could smell living metal. 

A dim glow drew him forward through the little shaft. He had not yet been allowed to investigate this place, though the ship docked here frequently, and his creator had all but lived here for many days. But he was done waiting for permission from those who were his equals. 

The tunnel widened gradually until the dragon emerged into a lofty cavern, filled with stacks of Energon cubes and crumbling heaps of excavated rock. In the center stood two rows of giant growth chambers, the source of the glow he had seen. Suspended within these cylinders were curled-up bodies of dormant creatures. 

Predacons. Over a score of them, resting in stasis.  

And the entire cavern smelled like ... her.

Spotting the group of figures gathered beneath the amber glow, the dragon introduced himself with a deafening roar. 

Lord Megatron and his lackeys turned, momentarily taken aback by his arrival. They had apparently been deep in discussion, but his presence put all that to rest. 

In their faces he saw surprise, but no respect. They regarded him with comfortable annoyance, as though he were a troublesome dog who had escaped his kennel. But that was all about to change. Today, they would see him for what he truly was. 

The dragon’s gaze locked onto the familiar figure approaching him, the small, screeching one, who now brandished a metal pipe in his long fingers. 

“What is this interruption?!”

The Predacon’s eyes narrowed as the Seeker stomped closer. Nearly everyone he met, friend or foe, prey or master, seemed to think violence was the only language he could understand. 

“Unruly beast!” Starscream growled, whacking him across the eyes with the pipe. “You dare to roam freely without permission?” 

Another roar sent the gangly little fool scrambling back with a yelp. 

I suppose it is time. 

With a terrible growl, the dragon transformed into the towering figure of a warrior, looming over Starscream with disdain burning in his eyes. The look of utter shock that passed over the Seeker’s face — over all their faces — was well worth the patience he had invested in this moment. 

“Strike me again,” the Predacon growled, bending down to his tormentor’s level, “And I will bury that rod in your Spark.”

Starscream scooted back, not bothering to pick up the pipe again. 

“I — I did not realize the beast was capable of transformation,” he stammered. 

“Nor did I,” Megatron growled, throwing a sharp glare in Shockwave's direction. 

The dragon raised his voice so that it rumbled through the cavern. “I am no beast!” The cognizance in their eyes pleased him immensely – now they all looked at him the way she had. 

But now, the thrill of revealing what he was had passed, leaving him with the realization that he still had no idea who he was. A grave oversight. 

He had never been given a name. They called him “creature” and “thing” and “brute.” 

Those are hardly fitting titles for me. 

He turned his gaze to the glowing tubes that lined the chamber, drawing closer to one in particular. He remembered the growth chambers well. After all, he was born in one, just as his brethren would be. A lab like this was the first sight his eyes had ever known.

While the dragon mused, his creator was busy explaining things to the others in undertones.

“The ability to transform is a fundamental part of Cybertronain biology,” said Shockwave. “We simply had no evidence to suggest that the Predacon species ever reached that evolutionary stage, since they became extinct in the Great Cataclysm.”

“Well, we certainly know now,” Starscream snarled.  

The Predacon behind the glass was curled up, embryonic – she didn’t resemble him at all. In fact, her nascent form made her look rather grotesque, he thought. Unlike him, she had no wings, and her plating lacked the sharp features and unique colors of an adult. She had not yet opened her eyes or tasted the air, and in her statuesque silence one could almost forget to think of her as a living creature at all. 

But she was alive, and for that, she was beautiful. 

His Spark swelled with a curious sort of tenderness as he looked upon the young one. One day, she would no longer be silent. She would learn to love the rain and the sun and the wind on her face. And she would have her own name. 

“So, the rumors are true,” the Predacon murmured to himself. “I will no longer be alone.”

Saying the words aloud brought a smile to his face. His first. 

“And I see you have been keeping secrets!” Megatron marveled. His tone was surprisingly amicable. Perhaps acceptance would be easier to achieve than he had feared. 

The Predacon turned, trying his best to use words of respect and dignity, though he knew little of such things. It wasn’t easy to be polite when your young ears had heard only curses. 

“It was not my intention to deceive you, Lord Megatron,” he explained. “I only recently became aware of my abilities. All I remember of my beginning was hunting and battle, and the wounding of my pride. Thus, I began to burn with questions. Who am I? And where did I come from?”

His eyes dropped a little as he remembered the many sleepless nights he had spent consumed by the ravenous desire to know. 

“The warship’s databanks provided historical fact,” he said, “But still I possessed no memory of my own past. So I began to reconsider my place in the present, and wondered — could I be like the others?” he nodded softly. “And now, I know.”

“Yet you are unique!” Megatron assured him, gesturing to the tubes. “A miracle of science, cloned by Shockwave from cybernucleic acid, recovered from the remains of your mighty ancestors.”

The Predacon turned his eyes to the growth chamber again, looking long upon his unborn kin. 

“I will see to it,” he said softly, “That we become as mighty as they.” 

Chapter Text

“Relax, kid, you’re not going to jail.”

Nova snorted. “I am relaxed.”

Agent Fowler raised an eyebrow, pointing his pen at her finials. “Your, uh … thingies say otherwise.”

“Oh, uh...” Nova rolled her shoulders, trying to stave off her stress. Being interrogated in the medibay after the night she and Smokescreen had been through wasn’t the most comforting situation. “Sorry.”

“Ooh, she’s nervous,” Smokescreen taunted, but hissed when Ratchet flicked the welder’s flame a little too far. “Ow! Doc!”

“Oops,” Ratchet droned.

“Anyway, you’re not going to jail,” Fowler said, looking over his notepad. “My superiors shouldn’t raise too much of a fuss.”

“I don’t understand,” Nova frowned. “Isn’t this going to be seen as murder?”

“Self-defense, in this case.” Fowler wrote something down. “You helped apprehend a dangerous convict. In fact, there’s a lot of important people at the Pentagon who’d be interested in your potential as a military operative.”

Nova’s hands twisted in her lap. Her armor hid her expression, but her body must have done the rest of the talking, for she could feel Ratchet glancing at her as he worked on Smokescreen’s arm.

“Did Arkeville give you any intel?” Fowler asked. “Anything we might need to know?”

Closing her eyes, Nova tried to forget what he had told her.

A meteor fell to Earth ...two young teenagers ... comatose.

Don't you want to know who you are?

“Nothing,” she bit out. “Just the ramblings of a crazy old man.”

Fowler pushed off the railing, sighing as he clicked his pen. “Well, I guess that’s all of my questions. I’ll send in my reports. General Bryce is gonna have my hide...”

He walked out of the room, and Ratchet clapped the rookie on the shoulder. “All right, Smokescreen. You’ve contaminated my workspace enough. Ultra Magnus is getting together the others for patrol.”

Smokescreen grabbed his arm. “Oh, ow, I don’t think I can transform…”

“You’re fine. Get out.”

Smokescreen passed Nova’s table with a lopsided grin. “See you later, I guess.”

She glanced at him sheepishly. “Sorry I got you into all that. I really am a bad role model.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. “You know I’m down to joyride anytime.”

He held out his hand for a fist bump, and with a snort, Nova pressed her tiny knuckles against his massive ones.

“See ya, Doc.” Smokescreen strutted out of the room.

“When are people going to stop calling me that?” Ratchet wondered.

“Are we done here?” Nova demanded, clasping the edge of the table with stiff hands. “I don’t wanna be around when Ultra Magnus decides to show up.”

“You’re done when I say you’re done,” Ratchet chastised, pulling the small Energon cube from the refinery. “Besides, I wouldn’t worry about Ultra Magnus. He hasn’t been told about your little excursion last night.”

“Really?”

“Given the state of our morale, Optimus thought it best to avoid additional fuss.” He handed the cube to her. “Drink up. Slowly. This is all we can spare.”

Sullenly, Nova raised the cube to her lips, letting the sharp tang of the liquid fill her mouth. It rejuvenated her sapped strength almost immediately, bracing her spine and straightening her posture.

“Thanks, Ratchet,” she mumbled over the cube.

“Well!” he marveled. “That’s the first polite tone I’ve heard from you in some time. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she protested. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“Hm.” Ratchet was squinting at her head, and Nova realized too late that her finials were drooping again.

“I’m serious,” she said, reaching for them. “Everything’s fine.”

“That’s new, isn’t it?” the medic pointed out.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Sorry? It makes my job easier. You are now as bad of a liar as Optimus.”

Nova glowered at him, downing the rest of the cube despite his earlier advice.

“How come his prongs don’t move?” she demanded, wiping at the corner of her mouth.

Ratchet shrugged. “For tactical reasons, Optimus has learned to keep his emotions from being too easily read. Thankfully, it will probably be many eons before you develop that skill.”

Nova sighed. “Can I go now?”

Ratchet turned back to his computer. “You’re... certain there’s nothing wrong?”

Nova had noticed the medic preferred to occupy himself just before he asked people serious questions. He liked to feign nonchalance, to look away, to pretend didn’t really care, and keeping busy was a good way to disguise concern.

Nova sighed.

“We really aren’t going back to Cybertron,” she murmured. “Are we?”

He stiffened a little. “We … are not. At least, not yet.”

“You don’t want to stay here, do you?”

“What I want is beside the point,” the medic replied. “I’m struts-deep in Synth-En formulas, and despite Optimus’ hopes, I’m not sure we have the supplies to last us another month, not to mention the amount of time I need to come up with a real answer.”

Welp. The Autobots have to stay. I just have to make sure they let me stay, too.

Better get back to earning my keep.

With a deep breath, Nova tucked her worries into the back of her mind, and slid off the table. “How can I help?”

The medic’s taut shoulders eased a little. That was the closest to a smile she was going to get out of him.

“Well,” he said softly. “I haven’t had time to get to any of the chores.”

“I’ll do them.”

“Make sure you take out the trash when you’ve finished,” he called after her. “The children have been enjoying your groceries.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

In the span of two hours, Nova had managed to clean the floors, organize the dwindling stacks of cubes in the storage corner, clean out the kids’ lounge space, make all the beds, and spray down the windows. She’d show Optimus what responsibility looked like. She was gonna be responsible as frag. By the end of the day, he’d be asking her to go out to missions with the team, and then she could start feeling like a fragging Autobot again.

A roach scuttled across her foot as she shoved aside a box of Jack’s things. With a grin, she popped the lid off the can of Raid, but stopped abruptly when she overheard Ultra Magnus’ voice.

“Doctor, what is the current status of your Synthetic Energon experiments?” the commander asked curtly.

Assured that he was not addressing her, Nova rattled the spray can with a little more vehemence than necessary. Ratchet had been up all night working on that project; he didn’t need a hall monitor breathing down his neck.

But the medic wasn’t about to take any criticism from a newcomer, and he always responded with the same briskness given to him. “Doing the best I can, Commander, given the lack of functional equipment at my disposal.

“You do realize that an alternate energy source may be essential to our survival,” said Ultra Magnus.

The half-spark clenched her jaw, stamping on a roach that tried to scuttle away from her chemical justice. Ultra Magnus didn’t know. He hadn’t been here to see what happened when Ratchet had been driven to experiment on himself with Synth-En, hadn’t seen how close the medic had come to desperate addiction. He had almost died trying to solve the team’s problem.

With a sigh, Ratchet turned to face him. Though he stood several heads shorter than Magnus, his tone carried a terseness that would have convinced even a starving Insecticon not to press the issue.

“Believe me, Ultra Magnus,” he replied tersely. “No one is more acutely aware of the stakes than I am.”

Magnus gave a doubtful nod, leaving the medic to his work. “Of course.”

Tracking the wayward roaches with her eyes, Nova grumbled under her breath. “Who does he think he is? Fraggin—”

“I see you have decided to put your stature to good use,” Magnus’ voice came down to her.

She bit her cheek, keeping her head down. “Yeah.”

“Our human consultant has informed me that their convict was terminated last night. You need not fear a breach from Arkeville any longer.”

Nova chuckled dryly. “That’s great.”

“Have you swept the floors and disposed of trip hazards?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you reset the hangar’s alert system?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you cleaned up after your fellow organics?”

Nova did not know why that particular phrase made her want to unload the entire can of Raid into the commander’s eyes. Never had she been so angered by such technically correct statements.

“Yes, I have,” she bit out. “I also organized every cube in that corner, by myself.”

He glanced at her work with an evaluating grunt.

“A... valiant attempt, for a human,” he said. “Your effort is commendable.”

Nova felt the can of roach spray dent beneath her fingers.

“I suppose all that remains is for you to dispose of the organic waste,” Ultra Magnus added, pointing to the trash bags tied up in the corner.

Nova stared at them with a sinking heart. She had not removed her armor since stepping foot in the base, but to take out the trash would mean going out into the open wearing nothing but her jumpsuit, and there would be people out there. What if they saw her? What if they tried to talk to her?

“I’m getting to that,” she said.

“It would be prudent to complete your tasks in order of priority, rather than preference,” Magnus began to lecture. “You cannot rely upon personal desires to complete impersonal objectives—”

The sound of the sliding doors interrupted him. Smokescreen, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee shuffled in to the hangar, gathering around as Smokescreen tapped something into the central computer.

Nova drew a breath of relief as Ultra Magnus left to investigate their arrival.

“May I ask why you are not currently scouting Grid 305 for Predacon bones?” he demanded.

Arcee stood at attention, but her weary face was set like flint, and her tone was sharp. “Because we just returned from scouting Grids 301 through 304?”

“– To log our field reports,” Bulkhead stepped in politely. “Per your protocol, Commander Magnus. Sir.”

Magnus nodded, but his satisfaction lasted only until Wheeljack strode through the hangar doors, flinging green fluid off of his arms.

Magnus’ face bent into a frown. “Soldier, I don’t recall giving you permission to leave the base.”

“Because you didn’t, sir,” Wheeljack replied.

Nova saw Arcee give a faint smile. In the midst of stifling protocol, the Wrecker was a nice change of pace.

“Why are your hands smeared with coolant?” Magnus demanded.

“I … recalibrated your ship’s engines,” Wheeljacks voice had the amicable lilt of a mechanic who was comfortably proud of his work. “You can expect a ten percent increase in vector thrust.”

The commander seemed surprised by the Wrecker’s good nature, but before he could say anything, the roar of jet engines filled the hangar, and Optimus’ wide silhouette spanned both the doors as he landed.

A breath of fresh air for the drowning.

“Welcome back!”

“Optimus! Good to see ya.”

“Ha ha ha! Optimus!”

“Good to have you back, Optimus.”

The others flocked to him, overjoyed to see their leader. Putting down the can of spray, Nova abandoned her task and squeezed through their crowding legs to get to him, beaming. Though he had grounded her, Optimus had not told anyone but Ratchet about her disobedience, and sparing her from Magnus’ lecture meant he was still sticking by her side. Disappointed or not, he was a blessed alternative to the enforcer, and she was actually happy to see him.

Spotting her, Optimus smiled, and lowered his hand to the ground. Nova used her momentum to launch herself into his fingers, wrapping her arms around as many of them as she could.

Optimus lifted her slowly, allowing the girl to settle back onto her old spot once more. With a happy sigh, she let her legs dangle over his shoulder, lying back with her arms behind her head.

Ah, it’s good to be tall.

Standing upright, Optimus addressed his eager audience.

“Decepticon activity is at a lull,” he reported. “I fear Megatron may have collected the specimens he requires to …”

His voice trailed off. Frowning, Nova sat up, trying to see what had thrown off his focus.

Ultra Magnus had not joined the others in their welcome. He was standing alone, looking stiff and awkward in his solitude. He looked confused, as well he might. The discrepancy between the team’s reaction to the two leaders had apparently left him at a loss, and he could not understand how to fix it.

“… clone his army,” finished the Prime softly. Nova could see the sorrow in his eyes.

Her nose wrinkled as she watched Magnus walk slowly to the door, gazing out with a stony face. She personally didn’t see how anyone could have compassion for such a rigid, heartless soul. Why was Optimus so worried about someone who clearly didn’t care about anyone else?

“We just finished scouting the last few grids,” Arcee reported. “Nothing’s been disturbed, and we didn’t find any samples.”

“D’ya think Megatron’s going for a Predacon invasion?” Smokescreen asked.

Optimus nodded. “Perhaps. But since we have no way to predict Megatron’s next move, we must be prepared to retaliate. All of you must be well-rested and alert in the event of a threat.”

The others nodded, dispersing. There would be no more chores today, at least, not for those who weren’t trying to beat the “irresponsible” allegations.

“I have stuff to do,” Nova said, thumping on his shoulder.

Optimus lowered her to the ground again with a soft smile. “What has my little one so occupied?”

She folded her arms, holding her head high. “Responsibility.”

With that, she scurried off, leaving the Prime alone with the medic. Ultra Magnus was still staring out the other hangar door, watching the human troops run drills outside. Optimus watched him steadily. 

“Something on your mind?” Ratchet asked.

Optimus straightened to his full height, watching the girl go back to work. “How is she?”

“Oh, she’s in fine feather today,” the medic snorted. “You should see how many chores she burned through.”

“Hm,” Optimus mused.

Ratchet nodded in her direction, keeping his voice in an undertone. “She won’t tell me what happened out there, but she’s burning through Energon more quickly than she used to, and her armor seems stronger. If she were a normal Cybertronian, I’d say she’s nearing maturity.”

“Have she and Ultra Magnus come to an understanding?”

“As much as you might expect. She hasn’t tried to attack him yet, but I give it three hours.”

“And how are the others dealing with his presence?”

Ratchet tipped his head. “Let’s just say your presence is greatly missed.”

They were interrupted when Nova ran up to Optimus and stood at attention.

“At ease,” Optimus relieved her.

“I finished all the chores, and I cleaned up everything inside,” she reported. “Ratchet didn’t have to lift a finger all day. Isn’t that right, old man?”

“Why the big interest in cleanliness?” Ratchet asked wryly. 

Optimus responded in an undertone. “I told her she needed to learn responsibility before she can join us on the field.”

“Ah.”

“Can I please be put on regular deployment again?” Nova asked. “Please?”

Optimus looked around the room.

“Have you not neglected one of your duties?” he asked, pointing to the trash pile.

She shook her head. “I don’t wanna do that one.”

“Deliver those to the compactor outside, and we will discuss this when you return,” said the Prime.

“What if I really don’t want to?”

“Go.”

Growling, Nova shuffled to the trash pile, seizing two bags and dragging them to the door. After a short glance outside, she looked back at the Prime.

He gave an encouraging nod. “Ultra Magnus will keep watch.”

The girl’s armor snapped away, revealing her sour expression. With a muttered string of no-no words, she slung the bags over her shoulders and strode out the door, intent on getting the job over with as soon as possible.

“Optimus,” Ratchet said quietly. “For both her sanity and mine, I would consider putting her in the field again.”

The Prime considered his words, but shook his head.

“She is too vulnerable, Ratchet. I do not want to expose her to unnecessary risks, especially if Megatron is after her.”

“You saw how distressed she was when she lost her armor,” Ratchet reminded him. “To be useless would destroy her. She wants … she needs to be helpful.”

Optimus glanced at him with a knowing smile. “She is not the only one.”

“Yes, yes, I know, look who’s talking,” Ratchet waved him off. “The point is, I fear she will go just as far as I did to satiate that need. Maybe farther, if you restrict her. All she wants is your approval, you know.”

“Given her skillset, I would prefer she wanted it a little less,” the Prime admitted. “I fear she looks for trouble to prove something to me.”

“Well, you are her guardian. I suppose it is up to you.” Ratchet shrugged, turning away. “But if my child were being hunted by the Decepticons, I would keep her close to me.”

Optimus nodded softly, casting a thoughtful glance toward the door. “Perhaps you are right, old friend.”

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

“Holy frag.”

“Is that…?”

“Whoa, that guy is huge.”

“He can transform?”

“Holy fraag…”

Passing Vehicons stopped dead in their tracks, frozen in shock as they saw who was walking with their leader down the main corridor. Everywhere the former beast went, he turned heads and prompted whispers. He towered over every single person in the warship, and his massive strides were almost too much even for Megatron to outpace. The wide halls of the Nemesis could barely fit the two of them.

Megatron set his jaw as he turned another corner, trying not to show his apprehension at being literally overshadowed in front of his troops. But the walking arsenal at his side seemed to be oblivious to the stares they drew. He was only interested in the monopoly he now had on his leader’s ear, eager to say his piece after spending so long in primal silence, Megatron supposed.

“It is with deepest gratitude for my creation that I pledge undying obedience to you, my one true master,” said the Predacon. “But with more of my species soon to stride among us, I beg your permission to, in turn, lead them… as ‘Predaking.’”

So the monster had named itself. Outwardly, it sounded like the fledgling warrior was merely asking him, but in reality, Megatron knew the beast was telling him. The Predacon had quickly become the only creature on the warship who did not need to ask permission for anything.

Megatron put on the thinnest smile he had ever worn in his life.

“Your vision is … boundless,” he said politely, but he spoke through clenched teeth. His amicable facade was beginning to slip. Obedience and loyalty were all very fine to a point, but without fear, they were fleeting, and when paired with ambition, they were dangerous.

The warship was not big enough for two lords.

“You there,” Megatron said, gesturing to a pair of drivers hiding behind a corner.

“Us?” one Vehicon squeaked. His brother elbowed him sharply, and they both snapped to attention.

“Aye, sir.”

“Escort … Predaking to the south wing,” Megatron said, gesturing graciously at the looming beast. “The secondary Energon storage room will accommodate our newest member for the time being.”

“Thank you, my liege.” Predaking rumbled.

The petrified soldiers could not move in their terror, and their attention was frozen not on their leader but on the monster at his side. Predaking strode forward, his shadow swallowing them head to toe, and their spell was broken.

“Right away, Lord Megatron,” they chorused. They turned on their heels and practically ran down the hall, like newly hatched chicks before a hungry fox.

It was not until Predaking’s shadow had dipped out of sight that Megatron turned on his heel, addressing his entourage of four.

“With me,” he said.

Knock Out and Starscream exchanged a wondering glance, but Shockwave and Soundwave adjusted their course without breaking stride, following Megatron into the primary Energon storage rooms in the belly of the warship. The engineers were quickly dismissed, leaving the officers alone with their leader.

Megatron sealed the doors.

“That creature was never supposed to think,” Megatron hissed. “And now he speaks.”

“Well, on the bright side, he does sing your praises,” Knock Out pointed out. “He may be a walking death machine, but at least he’s on our side, right?”

“Our former beast may fully believe himself to be a loyal servant today,” said the warlord. “But trust me, the moment our royal highness realizes that his army possesses greater might than what currently remains of the Decepticons—”

“Evolution will give way to revolution,” Starscream concluded.

The room fell into silence. The ease with which a lone Predacon could rip apart an entire army was not difficult to imagine.

Megatron mused over the situation, shaking his head heavily.

“I am left with no choice but to eradicate the Predacon clones,” he said soberly. “Before they are provided with the opportunity to eradicate us.”

Once, long ago, a miner had crawled out of the wretched tunnels that had been called his birthright and clawed his way to glory. He had given himself a name, and had made it a name to be feared. He had vowed to never again bend his knee to another, to never again be mastered by anyone. But now, after so long, Megatron remembered how it felt to be small.

He would not allow it.

Never again.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

Nova slung the stupid trash bags into the stupid compactor. Thanks to a stray nail, the stupid mystery juice had gotten all over her stupid boots. It had taken her three trips to haul all the trash into the janky old crate, and the only thing she was thankful for was the fact that she didn’t have to go back for a fourth. And to make matters worse, the bored guards outside the next-door hangar had been idly watching her. 

Nova used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The smell of a trash compactor baking in the Nevada heat was enough to make a vulture gag.

Fraggin stupid chores. I hate it here.

She shut the compactor and turned away, but was startled by the sight of the guards walking directly toward her, freshly relieved by their fellows. One of them, a younger man with glasses, swiveled his head to peer back at her. His narrowed eyes studied her face with more cognizance than was normal between strangers, as if he had seen her before.

Nova frowned.

Frag is he looking at?

She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him, but that only seemed to help him realize who she was. He pointed directly at her, mouth agape, just as Nova's sharp eyes picked up the name on his badge:

G. Hendricks.

"Ah, great."

For an instant, she held out hope that he hadn't recognized her, but that was quickly dashed. He abandoned his partner, trotting over to her. Nova hid her face and tried to hurry away, but it was too late.

“Wait! Miss! Hang on!”

It was all she could do to keep her armor down.

“What?” she asked, pivoting to face him. “What the frag do you want?”

“It’s you! I can’t believe I ran into you!” he cried. “It’s me, Hendricks! From school!”

“Yeah...” she squinted. “Shouldn’t you be in algebra class, or something?”

“Not me,” he thumped his chest proudly. “After I met you, I figured I should learn to defend myself. And the country, I guess. So, when I turned eighteen, I dropped out and joined the army.”

“Mm.” Nova nodded once. “Bye.”

She turned on her heel.

“Wait!” Hendricks stepped between her and the hangar.

Nova narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin.

“Move, dude.”

“Don’t I get to say ‘hi’ to you?” he asked. “I thought we were friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” she replied automatically.

He looked profoundly confused. “Well, that’s … kinda weird, but whatever! The point is, I can finally thank you for that time you saved my butt. I was kinda rude before.”

Nova remembered it only vaguely. He had been the victim of some stupid dispute in the back of some stupid alleyway, and she had happened to take enough interest to spare the boy a few minutes of misery. She hadn’t done it for him. The sight of his weakness had just been … annoying.

“Please don’t mention it.”

“And now that I caught you, we can get properly introduced!” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Hendricks. George Hendricks.”

Nova eyed the hand.

“I’m going to judo flip you, George Hendricks.”

“Huh?”

Before he could blink, Nova seized his arm, hooked her foot behind his leg, and shoved her weight sharply against his shoulders, flipping him onto his back in one fluid motion. His breath left him in a satisfying wheeze as he hit the concrete.

That’ll teach him. Nova smiled smugly as he struggled for air, but to her surprise, he was smiling, too.

“Wow,” he gasped. “That’s … so cool.”

What is wrong with this guy?

“Don’t get in my way again,” Nova bit out, stepping over him.

“Wait!” he coughed, rolling onto his elbow. “What’s your name?”

Nova put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Superman.”

Hendricks laughed. Nova did not.

“What, are you an alien?” he asked, when he finally caught his breath.

She raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like an alien to you?”

“I mean, not now.” He got to his feet, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “But you know, you got the armor. You got the badge. Kinda fits the bill, right?”

Taken aback, Her smug satisfaction receded a little, and suddenly, she didn’t know what to say. He had just ripped off the bandage from the wound she least wanted to acknowledge, right in the middle of the street, where anyone could hear.

Nothing to worry about. It was just a joke. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Still…

Is it that obvious?

Before she could think of something scathing to say, an airhorn sounded from somewhere across the compound, followed by the bark of a drill sergeant.

“Company, fall in!”

“Ope, they’re calling us for drills,” said Hendricks, brushing the dirt off his fatigues.

Thank frag.

“Time to go get beaten up again,” he said, trotting backwards toward the noises of marching men. “See you around, Superman!”

“See you,” Nova lied. She was pretty confident she could avoid seeing him ever again.

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

There were few things Knock Out hated more than having to deal with officer drama. Hearing about it was always fun, yes, but having to participate in illicit happenings had become a bit more distasteful after Breakdown died. The backstabbing culture was all fun and games until you realized you gave a frag.

“Lord Megatron,” Knock Out said, still managing to sound polite, “you’re not saying you intend to pull the plug on Shockwave’s beloved Project Predacon?”

He expected agreement from Shockwave. You would have to be out of your mind to call off one of the most costly and successful experiments in Cybertron history.

Instead, Shockwave inclined his head toward their leader. “Your conclusion is most logical, my liege.”

Knock Out side-eyed him in muted disbelief.

If even Shockwave was willing to euthanize his prized project, this situation was worse than he thought.

“But,” he said slowly, “What happens if that fire-breathing brute discovers our treachery?”

Starscream chuckled lowly. For once, he had avoided being the most talkative person in the room.

“Why assume that we will be the ones to perform the deed?” purred the Seeker, eyes glinting. “After all, if the Predaking were to discover that, say, the Autobots were responsible for wiping out his comrades, our resident beast might in turn destroy our hated enemies for us.” He let a cold sneer curl up the side of his face. “Or they him.”

Silence.

Then, a smile began to grow on Megatron’s scarred face.

Knock Out swallowed.

Of course. Why risk their own cogs when they could let someone else pull the trigger?

Classic Decepticon strategy.

The CMO didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. He simply smoothed out his expression, like usual, and let the situation ride, despite the alarms going off in his head.

There was no way this could go wrong. No way.

The beast would kill the Autobots. Or the Autobots would kill the beast.

Or maybe the Autobots and the beast would join forces, and kill them all.

But Knock Out didn’t feel bad about it. Knock Out wasn’t going to question it. No. He was reasonably loyal. Neutral. Unopinionated. Willing to keep his mouth shut, roll over, and let things happen around him. Just as long as Megatron still wanted him around as the medic. Just as long as his own hide was safe.

That was all that mattered.

Right?

◅ ◬▚►⎊◄▞ ◬▻

The second Nova crossed the threshold, she snapped on her full suit of armor.

Finally.

Ultra Magnus was still waiting by the door when she marched past him. Thankfully, he seemed too busy watching the drilling soldiers to bother her. Kind of weird. But none of that mattered right then. She only had one thing on her mind.

"Okay! Trash is done," she said, striding over to her guardian. "Now will you let me into the field?"

Optimus looked so reluctant to break the news to her.

"Nova, considering your recent … behavior," he said slowly, "I am not convinced you are ready for the field."

Her heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you have been ... distracted of late."

"Me?" Nova laughed. "I'm not distracted. I'm super focused. Ratchet!" she called toward the medical corner. "Tell Optimus I'm focused."

Ratchet did not look up. "She was just talking to a strange boy."

Nova spluttered in indignation.

"I was not!" she cried. "He got in my way, so I moved him! I didn’t even try, really. He is nothing!"

"Did you hurt him?" Optimus asked.

She shrugged. "No bones were broken."

"Hmm," Ratchet droned. "Time to give her 'The Talk.'"

Optimus eyes widened.

"What?!" Nova yelled.

The medic rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You expect me to believe you know where children come from?"

"Of course, I know!" she fired back. "They’re grown in glass tubes!"

"I'm going to assume you're joking."

Optimus drew her aside. "Give us a moment, old friend."

Taking her out of earshot, Optimus knelt down to speak to her. It never did much to reduce his massive height, but Nova always appreciated the gesture.

"I know what you are trying to do," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

"You are trying to win back my favor by showing me you can be obedient."

She tilted her head mischievously. "Is it working?"

Optimus smiled.

"Who was that boy?" He asked.

"Nobody. Why?"

Optimus hesitated, perhaps gauging her honesty. “At the end of all this, would you not wish to remain on Earth, with your own kind?”

“You remember that time I went to school?” Nova reminded him dryly.

Her guardian winced a little. “Yes. But if you stayed, it could be different. There are people here who care for you.”

“Who, the Pentagon?” Nova snorted. “No, thanks.”

“You could have a normal life.”

“I don’t want one.”

He looked at her with a profound sadness. “Yes, you do.”

"No, I don’t," she insisted, hoping her finials were not betraying her. “I want to fight. It’s what I’m good at. Didn’t you see how many Vehicons I killed?”

Prime’s face twinged a little. "I saw."

“Then why won’t you put me in the field? You know I can fight.”

"This is not about whether or not you can fight. This is about why you have been fighting me,” Optimus replied. “And I think I know why."

Nova froze.

"You do?"

He knows? How the frag did he figure it out?

Her heart leapt into her mouth, and she scrambled to speak before he did -- before he could tell her it was all over.

"Optimus, wait, I promise I can fix it—"

"I am proud of you, Nova."

Nova stopped short. "Huh?"

"Ratchet has reminded me that you fear being abandoned." Optimus said, his eyes softening. "But you do not need to prove your worth by going out and finding battles to fight. In strength or weakness, in peace or in war, your place on this team is secure.”

With a soft smile, he tilted his head down at her. “You are one of us.”

Nova was trying to breathe. 

“I … I am?” she squeaked.

“You are very helpful, and more importantly, you are fighting for a world that wronged you,” he reiterated. “That is a difficult thing, and I am proud of you.”

“Proud?”

“Yes.”

Nova’s reeling brain slowly remembered that he was no longer able to sense her mind. He … he didn’t know.

She breathed a sigh, bolting her panic down tight behind closed eyes. Okay. It’s okay. He doesn’t know. He wouldn’t be proud if he knew.

Clearing her throat, she looked down and traced a line in the concrete with her foot. “Does this mean I can’t go back to the field?”

Optimus thought for a long moment, then rose to his feet as he made his decision. “You may go.”

Her head snapped up. “Really?!”

“But,” Optimus clarified. “For our next mission, you must operate under Ultra Magnus’ command.”

“What?!” she yelled. “That’s not fair!”

“You wanted to prove to me that you are responsible enough to follow orders. I am giving you an opportunity to do so.”

“But I can’t work with him!” she protested. “He treats me like some kind of civvie!”

“Ultra Magnus’ command style may be harsh, but he is an Autobot to the core, and he is my friend,” Optimus reminded her firmly. “Under his command, I want you to behave as though you were taking orders from me. He will keep you safe, and you will treat him with respect.”

“Because he asked for it?” she bit out.

“Because I asked for it,” said Optimus. “Can I trust you with this?”

Her jaw clenched. Her stupid finials were almost certainly flattened down, but she swallowed it all and straightened her spine.

“...Yes, sir.”