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The fight was going so well until Optimus got right into his space. Guns were forgotten, both mechs grappling for upper hand, savage and merciless. Megatron’s self-confidence in his battling skills was not questioned by him for a long, long while. He was a champion, best of the best, the one who survived everything this cruel world threw at him. Why then, was he not able to overpower an ex-archivist with a spark so soft, that he was deluded enough to ‘see light in even the worst ones’ around him?
Thunderous roar shook the battlefield, wide blade flying over Prime’s head, faceplate calm and collected. He hated it. He hated how easy it was for Optimus to get all these emotions out of him, yet he gave none back. Megatron wanted to see something, anything other than this blank expression that haunted him since this war began.
Maybe he could get under it. Tear it away, see all the intricate mechanisms, bare skull of a skeletal form they all shared. See the real deal.
Denta as white as the rest of his frame shone in a wide grin, blue optics brightening up. There actually was a reaction, Prime’s sharp gaze momentarily flickering in something close to worry. Megatron must have looked mad, unhinged, but perhaps this was for the best. Let the autobot see what kind of mech his friend became before he perishes. Let him know what he has done.
Silver, scuffed servos shot out to grab Optimus’ helm, pressing so hard he heard creaking even under the sound of death around them. He saw nothing but those eyes, still unreadable, still infuriating. Weakening grip tugged at his forearms, legs kicked at firmly placed pedes.
The world turned to blur, the only defined object being this face, borders slowly but surely giving away under his insisting fingers.
He didn’t hear an explosion, only thing on his mind being a slipping grip on Prime as they were both sent to stumble onto each other. He felt dazed, but that was ridiculous, he must have imagined it. Who could possibly hurt him? He was Megatron, indestructible, indifferent to pain.
Errors filled half his sight, ignored and dismissed as he got up on one buckling knee. He looked up, Prime’s gaze right in front of him, along with both of his guns transformed.
Heh. Well, there was another way to do what he wanted, if that’s how it was going to be.
‘Megatron, you have to stop this. Look around you.’
‘Nice try. I’m not that gullible.’
Smirking, he stuck fusion cannon right in that pretty, beautiful face, worth to write odes about. Even with that horrified look, it was better than anything he has ever seen. Too bad this one fleeting moment of Optimus’ real, rare emotion is the last one he will ever see.
Energy gathered around, coloring it in magenta. Oh well.
Megatron had no time to react at the push, impossibly pink color filling his whole vision.
Wait.
—--------------------------------
Starscream heard plenty of bloodcurdling screams in the last cycle alone, but not this one. Not so familiar, yet novel at the same time. It kept going, everyone’s head turning to see despite the battle still raging on. Or at least it was supposed to, but many decepticons seemed to stop, helms turning around to gawk at the disturbance. What kind of army was this? Annoyed to no end, he turned around, thrusters drawing an elegant arch.
The flair in motions was gone the moment he saw it. He didn’t think before rushing into the scene, ignition leaving skid marks at the ground.
‘What did you do?!’
There was no answer to seeker’s hysteric cry. Prime seemed paralyzed, staring at decepticon leader in front of him. Megatron’s pained howl teetered out by now, only rasping sobs escaping his kneeled form. The air was still electric with discharge, hitting Starscream’s oilfactory hard when he ran up to see the damage. Half of warlord’s frame was covered in fresh energon, most of it coming from…
‘My lord, its me, everything’s fine, you’re safe…’
Murmuring calming nonsense, he pried away stubborn round servos from Megatron’s face, dripping with blue viscous liquid. The sight was not pretty, filling him with conflicting emotions. Mostly, though, it was murderous rage.
The faceplate was as good as gone, heavily cracked, chipped pieces still sliding down. White metal and everything beneath it disappeared under thick layer of energon, steadily flowing all over seeker’s trembling arms. Slowly breathing out, refusing to let the panic set in, Starscream carefully moved to clear up the optics.
There were no optics. No light shone through it, shards clanking as they fell away.
He wanted Prime dead. Now.
Just as he moved to stand up, weak servos grabbed his. A voice, always so imposing yet pleading at this moment called out.
‘Starscream, i can’t see, i can’t see anything…’
There was some commotion behind them, but he didn’t care. He could not leave Megatron like this, crawling around in complete darkness. This mech had enough of it in his life.
‘I’m here, don’t worry, we’re going to fix this.’
Stained arms enveloped shivering frame, warlord’s head heavily falling into his shoulder in another fit of barely audible cries.
This was so wrong. This is not how his master was supposed to be. Not beaten down, ruined, wailing in anguish.
Starcream craned his head to look around, as much as this position allowed. The autobots gathered around stunned Prime, shouting too much nonsense for him to make out anything illegible. Fight seemed to come to an end, both sides gathering with awkward looks, circling them. At some point Soundwave walked up to them, no reaction visible. But if there was one thing Starscream knew, is that spymaster’s loyalty to their leader was absolutely unwavering, pathetic display be damned. Putting his trust in the silent mech, he turned back to Megatron, shushing incoherent moans of pain.
Distantly, he heard a one-sided conversation, Prime assuring them that he will leave in peace, give them as much time to recover as they need. Someone shouted to end the war right here and now, raising a chorus of angry decepticons’ voices.
Eventually there was silence, then a touch on his shoulder. Starscream shifted to look at Soundwave, ruins around them empty, a shuttle slowly landing nearby.
—-------------------------
Megatron was hoping to be dead. That kind of failure was phenomenal, especially for him. Slain by his own fragging cannon. He would not hear the end of it from Starscream.
Bright light filled his vision, involuntary hiss escaping at another stab of pain. Thankfully it was brief this time, whiteness giving way to the shape of a medical room. Well, that made sense, but did they have to put such powerful bulbs in here? What kind of power did this place consume on a daily basis? What a waste.
His discontented grumbling was noticed by a medic, quickly jumping in to pump some chemicals into him. He wasn’t that badly injured, right? What was all this?
‘Don’t move, i will call your second in.’
He was lucky that Megatron had a bit more respect for medics than other mechs. Ordering him around. Pft.
‘He’s up?! Get out, this is not for your audials!’
Ow. For some reason Starscream’s armor seemed much too flashy. Enough to make him wince, blinking away nonexistent coolant.
‘Hey, are you still hurt? You want more painkillers? That doctor said it would be excessive but i don’t care, these dolts could not even evaluate what kind of damage this did to your inner mech-‘’
‘Starscream, for the love of Primus, shut up.’
Pouting, nervous seeker sat at the berthside, blue servos twitching.
Still stained with his dried blood.
Megatron sighed.
‘I’m… sorry. My frame is still sensitive, i think.’
‘It’s fine.’ Starscream paused, glancing at him. ‘Well, not your frame. That looks horrible.’
He frowned at the inappropriately amused tone.
‘Does it?’
‘Do you want to see for yourself?’
Well, it could not have been THAT bad. Seekers are vain creatures, from Starscream’s point of view he was probably an ugly mech even before this.
‘Sure.’ His optics followed shapely red hips as they moved, jumping off the berth. Hm.
‘Not that i feel inclined to complain, but i vaguely recall being blinded.’
‘Oh, you were, but i scared every medic in this place into doing their best to restore everything.’
‘Huh. Thank you?’
‘Hold your gratitude for now.’
The seeker returned, moderately big mirror in his hold.
‘Right, so, like i said, they did their best. But, uh…you know a saying that sometimes best is not enough?’
‘Starscream.’
‘Okay, here.’
He was finally handed the mirror, servos disgustingly weak, nearly dropping clunky thing. Right, so what was the fuss all about?
Red lights reflected back off silvery surface, confusing him. Where was that coming from? It was… too red, almost painful to look at. Just like Starscream’s armor, even brighter.
It moved along with his line of sight.
Oh no, those were his optics.
‘Why… why is one of them crooked? This is…’
‘Horrible. Yeah. Told you.’
He wanted to throw the mirror away already, but running away from a reflection of his own face would be even more pathetic than shooting it with a cannon.
The optics, horrid on their own, seemed even more sharp and tired thanks to the deep scars around it. It went down the plate, still raw, beads of energon peaking out here and there.
Somehow it seemed… hollow. Like he was drained of life, but left to wander this plane. Lip curled slightly, revealing half-destroyed denta.
‘Primus.’
‘That’s what you get for being an idiot. Get used to this look, because i’m pretty sure those medics were not lying about permanency of your injuries. Unless they’re all able to lie so convincingly at gunpoint.’
He put the mirror down, unable to take it anymore. Megatron never particularly cared about appearances, his own frame being an unimpressive colorless steel piece of machinery made for labor. The most important thing was a spirit living inside, no matter the size or strength.
But right now his spirit was shriveling, knowing that this is what his second saw. Will have to see for the rest of their existence. Along with the whole remaining population of Cybertron. There goes his reputation and image. Gone in a blur of blinding magenta.
‘Master?’
‘Starscream,’ he stared into nothing, bright lights scorching the optics , ‘Would you want to leave me, after this?’
When there was no answer, he turned to look at flabbergasted seeker. Red armor was covered in condensation from heavy venting.
‘What? No! Why would i do that? Do you want me to leave?!’
‘No.’
Whatever rant Starscream had at the ready was stuck in his voicebox, blue optics full of sympathy.
He must have looked miserable. A servo was on his, squeezing gently.
‘Why would you ask that, Megatron?’
‘I’m… ugly. Malformed.’ Hesitating, he curled scuffed fingers around sharpened ones. ‘You said that you loved me, but..’
‘I did. And i meant it. You think that this is enough to scare me off?’
Despite the gloom still eating away at the spark, Megatron could not resist a smile at the barking laugh his seeker let out.
‘Oh no, you are not getting rid of me that easily. In fact, i have some ideas on how we can use this.’
‘Use what? My face being blown off?’
‘Yes. What, you never heard about a concept of martyrdom?’
‘Starscream, in case you have not noticed, i am still functioning.’
‘You are. But you are not invincible.’
Megatron winced, pride rearing its head. He got so used to the idea that he was. Deluded himself.
‘So!’
Starscream clapped his servos, optics glinting with newfound fervor.
‘We will let everyone know about it.’
‘What?!’
‘But first, we need to talk about some modifications for your frame.’
He was a bit scared of seeker’s wide predatory grin, datapad appearing in stylish servos out of nowhere.
‘The reality is that you are ugly as sin. No going back from this one, everyone will jump at the chance to mock you. Let’s give them what they want, let’s make it worse. We will make you so terrifying, the whole autobot faction will fear you just for existing on the same planet as them. To pit with the pretty faces, you will be their terror no matter the condition. I want them to flee at the mere sight of you on the horizon, to know what you are.’
To… huh. Sometimes it worried Megatron just how alike him and the seeker were in their thought process.
‘And while we are at it, let’s add some protection from anyone ever getting near you again.’ Starscream jumped onto the berth again, showing off his manicured claws. ‘You like these on me, right? I found something similar that just might interest you…’
—----------------------------------
Optimus stared at the screen, bewildered.
‘So, now you know that it was a mistake not to shoot them there, right?’
‘Cliffjumper, this is not the time.’
‘Am i wrong Ratch? We could have been home free with this psycho long disassembled, but nooo.’
‘That would be an execution, since when are we in the business of those?’
He tunes them out, optics running over the text transcript again.
After they returned to the base that day, for a time there was an eerie lack of activity from decepticons. Optimus knew that the injury was not fatal, despite copious amount of energon that left warlord’s frame. But that had to had an effect of everyone’s morale, including Megatron’s own. He felt immense guilt, a memory stuck on a loop, him pushing away the cannon back in a panic. There was even a thought of giving up into captivity for a chance to meet his friend again and apologize. To say that he did not mean it.
Right up until sudden bombastic speech Megatron gave, his spymaster making sure that everyone in possession of a holopad or a radio heard it. It was a good one. The whole Cybertron knew of Prime’s viciousness now, about the so-called bringer of peace and light disfiguring his opponent in a dirty move. Leaving him scarred for the rest of his life, optics smoldering with bright crimson, their askew position getting a chuckle out of his allies but not him. Optimus noticed the claws, splayed dramatically over wide chest, sharp teeth that brought a primal fear to the surface. Sharp everything, really. Anyone walking up to the warlord would have to tread carefully, lest they get a cut or two.
He already felt overwhelmed when a familiar seeker stepped into the frame, mischievous smirk adorning the faceplate. Along with the same red color in his optics.
We all need to be united against an enemy who would stoop to such unspeakable horrors, silky voice said. To know who all of us are, not just thanks to a small badge, but something more. The optics are a window to one’s spark spirit, and ours are full of anguish at the injustice of this system, this world. Reflect it, so everyone would see us.
And now dark alleys flickered with red lights, with danger. With the reminder of what he had done, and what he didn’t.