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Skywarp’s voice jangled in Thundercracker’s audials as he raved on incessantly about the battle, the dam, the casualties, the glory, the Decepticon ’thing’ which was actually worthy of slag, because none of them had died, and Optimus had slagged Megatron, and the Cons had run, cursing and retreating, just as they’d done with every Primus darned episode ever since they’d arrived on this this pitforsaken rock.
Yet, it didn’t matter about the futility of the whole Primus darned fiasco. Thundercracker had made a discovery today. He was alive. And he was HERE!
After all this time, their failure in war, their long incarceration in the mountain, his inevitable presumption that surely, surely, Mirage had been destroyed long before they even thought of departing for this pitspawned tomb, he had been here all along, lying in stasis over that four million year hiatus, maybe even right next to where he, Thundercracker lay inert.
And now, he was active again. Beautiful, deadly, and - magnificent. And all that had happened had not sullied his beauty – or his talents - at all.
Skywarp paused in front of him. “Yeah!” he said. “We did good! Even if we did cop a hiding from that Alphamech. And frag it, TC! What a looker! An’ can he perform! I mean, I’m not sayin’ it didn’t hurt, gettin’ chucked off that bridge. But frag! What an operator! And a looker!”
A lecherous leer spread on to the purple Seeker's faceplates. “I tell you what TC, when we’ve kinda asserted ourselves here, I’m gonna target that one!" he cackled, "Alpha curves and long legs. I know what I wanna do with …”
But Skywarp was halted in his fantasies, instead very pinned down and unable to contemplate doing anything to anyone, as a blue hand closed firmly around his throat.
“I’m only gonna say this once,” Thundercracker snarled, “and I ain’t never gonna say it about any other Autobot. But you touch him, Warp, you so much as lay a finger on him, and you’re dead. An' to hell with the Decepticon cause, and whatever other slaggin’ thing we might happen to be doin’ here. Got it?”
“Hey – chill out. Got it!”
The blue Seeker relaxed, releasing Skywarp, who, getting up, dusted himself off. A crooked smile appeared on his faceplates. “Well now - sorry TC,” he smirked. “Didn’t realize I was touchin’ such a raw part o’ your circuitry! Guess I’d better be careful who I frag and then blast into oblivion here. Hadn’t I?”
Thundercracker sank back, retreating to the wall. Metal scraped as he slid down and sat, his intakes heaving. He did not answer, but the smugness in his trine mate’s voice had not eluded him, and neither had the jealous edge. “Yeah!” he grunted, “Any of the others are history, with my blessing. But just not that one, Warp.”
“Like I said, you got it!” Skywarp said. And now there was a note of understanding, inevitable within their bond, which lessened Thundercracker‘s seething emotions just a little. Nevertheless, it was not good. Soundwave would have been listening, would have heard the outburst, would know, would tell ....
“It’s OK, Warp,” Thundercracker said out loud, synchronising his thought imprint with his verbal output. “I think we should aim to kill ‘em all! Ain’t no reason to differentiate. Not now. An Autobot is an Autobot. They’re all slaggin’ pit!”
Mirage, he surmised, was infinitely well equipped with ways to look after himself. When the need inevitably arose.