Shattered Glass: "The Little Things That Kill", Up-dated with Chapter 4 (2-25-09) Options

[Razorsaw]

Author's Note: I'm sure every fan knows what “Shattered Glass” is by now, but for those unfamiliar, let me try explaining. Essentially, it's a parallel universe story, not unlike the original Star Trek series episode, “Mirror, Mirror.” “Shattered Glass” was a concept first used by Fun Publications for one of their convention exclusive toy sets and storylines. To put it very simply, it's a universe where Autobots are bad, and Decepticons are good. This was used to create a “not as you know them” type story for the Generation 1 characters.

Now... what if that concept were applied to a different Transformer continuity?

Shattered Glass - “The Little Things That Kill”
A Story By: Razorsaw

Chapter 01: Runaway

He knew that he had to get away.

Panting heavily as his intakes begged for air, the Transformer ran. They were close behind. They were always nearby. Tricky, cruel things that couldn't be trusted. They wanted him... they wanted him his power. The boost, the might that they couldn't wield on their own.

This one had lived his entire life under their reign. From the day his optics first opened, his entire existence had been one of subjugation. For his entire life, he had yearned for freedom, without any idea of what that might really mean. But it was the nature of life not to be bound... so he had run. Run at the first chance that he had gotten.

But now... now he regretted it. It was easy to tell... there was no escape from his captors. Even if he could elude their superior numbers, they had an ace in the hole that they could use to...

FRZZZZZAP!

He screamed. He felt a burning sensation – the sign that a pulsing hot laser blast had just cut through his wing. He dropped down to his knees from the pain... but then froze, cold as he heard voices in the distance. Voices whose words he couldn't quite make out.

“...id you hit him?”
“...know I don't ever miss a shot....rator...!”
“Don't yo...are talk ba.. to me, you slag...ulk...!”

They had hunters. There was no way that he could get away now. He couldn't even see the mech that had shot him. Perhaps it would be better if he just gave up now...

No. There was no going back for him. They'd make an example of him... just like they'd done the others.

It was better to die free than to go back to what he'd been.

With a loud cry, he shifted into vehicle mode. There was a loud humming as his engines powered up – a noise that would certainly reveal his position for sure. But he could fly, after all, and that meant that he would be fast enough to get a head start.

His engines ignited, and he was airborne. He tore off, keeping low to the ground rather than soaring high – doing so would just reveal him to any airborne surveillance. This way, he could get away much faster than he could while running.

Suddenly... he heard a noise over the turbulence of his own flight. Oh no, he thought as he directed his scanners behind him... and he got a visual of a red and silver vehicle tearing up behind him. How could a ground vehicle be that fast?!

But that wouldn't be the only surprise.

The ground suddenly ripped apart beneath him, and a might hand tore out from beneath the earth and grabbed him by the nose cone. He screamed, and found it being bent backwards... just before he was thrown violently to the ground. His damaged wing bent on impact, as a heavy foot came down and made sure that he wouldn't be getting back up again.

The red and silver vehicle drove up... and quickly converted into robot mode. The captive mech's visual scanners told him everything that he needed to know... the purple symbol on his chest was the mark of those that their captors allowed to be “Autonomous Robots.” The mark of a Hunter.

“Good job, Scavenger,” said the red and silver one, looking up at the one that was holding their captive down. “Of course, you wouldn't have caught him if I hadn't herded him towards you.”

“Feh,” came the reply, from the mech who was purple with green accents. “Don't make this a contest, Blurr. I've taught you better than that.”

“Silence. Both of you.”

The Autobots grew stiff and rigid, as two smaller robots disengaged from them. They each saluted their diminutive counterparts, who looked up at them with disdain. The relationship between hounds and their masters. The relationship of bulks and Mini-cons.

“Cute,” said the first of the two, a stocky black and copper-colored mech. “You talk as if you'd have anything to teach anybody, Scavenger.”

“Shut uuuup Rollbar,” said the second, who was now focused on their captive. He waved an arm at the downed mech, who no longer had Scavenger standing on him. “I am Overseer Incinerator. You gave us quite a run, you worthless piece of scrap, but it's over now. What's your designation?”

“My designation is Worker 65437, but my name is...”

“Name?!” interrupted Incinerator. “You think you deserve a name?! The only bulks who get a name are the ones we designate Autonomous Robots, and even they barely deserve them. Isn't that right Blurr?”

“Of course, Overseer,” said his “bulk”, who had his laser rifle trained on their captive..

“No...” the prisoner said, weakly, as he suddenly transformed. “I... I have a name... if you're going to make an example of me... at least let me tell you...”

Incinerator and Rollbar exchanged glances... and then laughed uproariously. “Oh, is that a final request?” chided Incinerator, as the Mini-con marched up, looking his red and black prisoner in the eye. “What are you...? Judging by your transformation, I'd guess a high-speed payload delivery mech... I guess you deserve this, at least. So, 65437, what is your 'name'...?”

The prisoner looked up at the sky, gaping at the sight of twinkling, distant points of light.

“My name... my name is Starscream...”

A short pause followed... until suddenly, Rollbar and Incinerator broke out into laughter. “Starscream?!” cackled Rollbar, as he slapped his knee. “Are you kidding me?! What kind of name is that for a bulk?! Isn't that hilarious, Scavenger?! Eh, Scavenger?!”

The bulk never answered Rollbar, as seconds later, the scene erupted into a storm of laser fire. Neither the Autobots or the Mini-Cons had seen it coming, and they were promptly blown off of their feet.

“What the slag?!” shouted Rollbar, as he scrambled to hide behind Scavenger's massive frame. “What is this?!”

The sound of a set of rotors the air, which was followed by another series of laser blasts. What followed was a voice, which announced, “Those first first few shots were to take you off guard, and the second series are warnings. I pray that you don't prompt me to fire a third volley, because I absolutely abhor violence.”

The voice's source was revealed to be a green and black aircraft, sustained on the air by a single spinning rotor. Two guns were situated under each wing, and there was an armor busting cannon under the cockpit

“You don't have to warn them, Cyclonus.”
“Ah, but Crumplezone, it is only sporting.”
“Well it's not your cannon. FIRE!”

Two shots erupted from the nose cannon, which struck both Scavenger and Blurr as they were beginning to rise. The two bulks were knocked to the ground, freshly smoking holes in their armor as they toppled over onto their handlers.

“Starscream” could only gape as his savior transformed and broke apart – and to his amazement, revealed himself to be a mini-con and his bulk, rather than a single transformer. What's more, there was no Autobot symbol on the Bulk – rather, a red one that was composed of several triangular shapes.

“I don't approve,” said the bulk, as he surveyed what had happened to Scavenger and Blurr. “But I have to admit, it gets the job done.”

“This is why we make good partners,” said the Mini-Con.

Starscream's jaw fell open. This wasn't the relationship between a master and a handler. What the slag was going on?!

Before he knew it though, the bulk was offering him his hand. “Come on now,” said the orange-faced mech, shooting Starscream and earnest smile. “They may be down, but they're not out... let's get you back to headquarters, eh? Not every day I find a bulk brave enough to escape the camps, after all.”

Starscream rose, and only managed to stammer out “Wh-who are you...? What are you...?!”

The bulk and the Mini-Con shot each other glances, and the larger of the two smiled again.

“Well, the name's Cyclonus,” he said. “That covers the 'who.' As for the what... Well my friend... I'm a Decepticon.”

This post has been edited by Razorsaw: Feb 25 2009, 08:35 PM

[Rust]

Beautiful and absolutely genius. *Applause*

[Detour]

Very interesting read. I look forward to seeing more.

[Database]

Very Nice, I too look forward to more.

[lonegamer8]

VERY nice take on a Mirrorverse (or Shatter Glass, whatever ;P)! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/icon-hotrod.gif)

[ShadowFox]

Extremely well written. Can't wait for the next chapter.

[Draange]

Very nice. It's gonna take me a while to think of the characters as the different colors, but that's okay. I like the twist of the mini-cons being the masters.

[GodSentinelOmega]

That's the most original use of Mini-Cons I've ever read. Lookjing forward to the next instalment. I like.

Oh, and I also like the the fact that the 'handlers' think Starscreams name is funny. That gave me a chuckle.

[Annimus Primus]

I also always like writing stories! This one sets a good example of how it is to see what I mean by fanfic.

[EvilEyeSigma]

I'm guessing Shattered Glass Armada Cyclonus is supposed to be a Springer homage?

[Razorsaw]

I'm guessing Shattered Glass Armada Cyclonus is supposed to be a Springer homage?

I just used the colors for Powerlinx Cyclonus, actually.

[Esser-Z]

Wow, that's really, really awesome.

[newsy891]

Mirror-verse in every sense of the word here - the factions being flipped and the little guys being in charge. I'm curious if you have some backstory for that; were your mirror Mini-Cons always the ones with the power, or were they at one point subjugated and/or thought of as merely a resource?

The bit about names was jarring in the best possible way. There's nothing that strips someone of his dignity more than removing his name.

[Razorsaw]

Author's Note: Sorry the new chapter took so long to get out everybody. In this one, I take it to the other side and take a look at the "non-runaways."

Shattered Glass: The Little Things That Kill
A Story By: Razorsaw

Chapter 02: “Hunters”

Autonomous Robots. Autobots. The name for the “bulks” that the Mini-Cons allowed special privileges. The name implied that they were allowed to live as they wished; with independence and autonomy. But even they were slaves to their tiny masters.

The difference was that they mistakenly believed themselves to possess independence.

His name was Optimus Prime... the personal Linker to the Liege, the current ruler of Cybertron, and head of the organization charged with hunting down and containing those who escaped the labor camps.

He more than anyone understood what the Mini-Cons were, and the extent of the power wielded by both them and his fellow bulks. He knew the truth... that they were but collared hounds, meant to keep the flock from straying.

And he was merely the largest and most dangerous hound among them.

But he was also one of the sole beings who remembered a different time, and what it was like to not be caged...

-------

“Tell me again,” said the red and black, visored Autobot with only one hand, “just what transpired during your attempt to recover Worker 65437?”

Blurr looked about the room nervously. “I told you,” he said. “We were attacked by one of the rebel underground, and he helped the escapee get away. We were incapacitated, and-”

Blurr never finished his sentence. Before he could, a tiny utility vehicle sprang out of the darkness and attached itself to his Powerlinx port, causing a surge of energy that caused him to scream out in agony.

“I'll explain this calmly,” said his interrogator. “You never located Worker 65437 in the first place. You and Scavenger failed in your mission, and he escaped without the intervention or help of anyone else. There is no rebel underground, understand?”

“Y-YES...!” wailed Blurr, his body shaking in pain. “There is no... we failed...!”

The other Autobot smiled warmly. “That's all I wanted to hear,” he said. “Overseer Longarm, I thank you for your assistance. Blurr, you may go.”

The utility vehicle disengaged from Blurr's link port, and transformed, stepping back into the shadows. Blurr stood up and righted himself, giving the intelligence officer a hateful glance before he shuffled towards the door.

“You enjoyed that,” said Longarm, once he was out of the room.

“I always enjoy serving my superiors, Overseer.”

“Please,” said Longarm, crossing his arms. “You're the kind of mech who enjoys having power... and in your case, the power to make everything fit just the way you want it to. That's a rather dangerous outlook for a bulk to have.”

“Intelligence is not so different from medicine,” replied the Autobot, rather pleasantly. “You have to make things work just right... and if that requires a bit of bitter medicine, well then...”

Longarm grunted. “Just make sure that you don't anger the wrong people... Red Alert.”

Red Alert grinned.

“Believe me... I know where this component fits best, Longarm. Don't worry... a limb cannot suddenly develop a will of its own.”

-------

“You would never have believed it, Side Swipe. There I was, at the center of the battle, and all of a sudden, out comes-”

“Where,” said the Autobot called Side Swipe, “did you ever get the idea that I enjoyed talking to you?”

Hot Shot, a white and black Autobot with flame accents on his chassis, laughed nervously. “Oh come on, Swiper,” he said. “You're my best friend, right?”

The purple, orange, and black Autobot he was talking too grunted. “For the last time,” he said. “I don't like you, I never liked you, and how you got out of the labor camps to begin with mystifies me. Now, leave me alone. I have to get these personnel reports to Overseer Nightbeat.”

Hot Shot laughed nervously, as he waved Side Swipe off. His “friend” went through an automatic door, and disappeared.

“Ha ha, see you buddy...!” he said, even after the other Autobot was gone. “We'll catch up later...”

“Why do you keep trying to get on his good side?"

Hot Shot's optic perked, and he turned to see a Mini-Con slinking around behind him. “Ah, Jolt!” he exclaimed with a grin. “... You know Side Swipe works for Nightbeat, right? He's part of the intelligence division, along with Longarm... and those guys run everything. If I make the right friends, I can...”

“... Stab them in the back like you did that other fellow who served under Rodimus,” said Jolt, crossing his arms. “Yeah, you're cut out for Intelligence, alright. You just need some actual, you know, intelligence.”

Hot Shot laughed nervously. “Oh come on,” he said. “Rodimus was... Rodimus was a radical. He never bought into the whole Mini-Con superiority thing...! I mean, he may have convinced me for a bit, but... I saw the error of my ways! And don't think I've forgotten how you got me to where I am today...!”

Jolt narrowed his optics. “I know, Hot Shot,” he said. “And I also know what happened to the others that have helped you get to where you are. Keep in mind who you're dealing with this time, alright?”

Hot Shot just stared silently, and nodded.

“Good boy,” hummed Jolt. “Now come on. Your duty shift starts in a few cycles, and I'm not going to be held responsible if you miss another shift.”

-------

“Not all beings are created equal, Prime. You know that, right?”

Optimus Prime, a yellow, maroon, and black Autobot, responded quickly, and without hesitation. “Of course, my liege. Freedom is only the right of the mighty.”

The Liege nodded, as he stood, looking out of a window. “My kind... they came to you, as gods, and brought you all out of the dark ages. You were ignorant and stupid... and we showed you who your proper masters were.”

“I know all this, my Liege.”

The Liege grinned.

“Because I have broken you,” he said. “Because I have shown you who the true master is... and through a the force of cosmic balance, we have built the Cybertron we have today. Isn't that right, Linker?”

“That is correct, Liege.”

The Mini-Con chuckled, but then quickly grew quiet. “Optimus. Your name is... misleading. You are the first of the best... among those who are nothing more than cogs in this machine. I have taken great pains to rid you of that belief. But now there is another... another who defies our dogma.”

“You speak of Megatron.”

“Do not insult me by allowing him to have a name,” the Liege snapped. “And what's more, he would be nothing if not for who he has to guide him. Optimus, more and more workers are escaping each solar cycle. And they are starting to believe the mistaken notion that they can be free... that they can bring about a Cybertron that does not enjoy Mini-Con rule...”

“What would you have me do, my Liege?”

“Find them,” said Sparkplug. “Leave no stone unturned. Take your hunters and eliminate this... glitch from Cybertron forever. I leave this task to you.”

“At once, my Liege.”

Optimus, who had been bowing, lowered his head to his master before heading for the door. But as he did so, hatred burned in his optics.

“I will do what I must... to whomever I must...” he said to himself.

Even if it's you, Sparkplug.

To Be Continued

This post has been edited by Razorsaw: Feb 25 2009, 01:14 AM

[Detour]

Another great chapter!

[Walternator]

Wow, this is very good! Can't wait to see what you do next.

[newsy891]

Optimus as a guerrilla. Oooooh.

The powerlinx ports as torture devices and Red Alert's twisted take on medicine are positively chilling. And this line...

“Do not insult me by allowing him to have a name,” the Liege snapped.

...goes right back to what I said about the power of names. If Megatron has a name, it's implied that he has dignity, autonomy... power. If you're intending this as a theme, or even if you're not, I'm loving it.

[Rust]

Pure and utter brilliance, start to finish.

[Spin-Out!]

I really, really like this story. Can't wait for the enxt chapter (IMG:style_emoticons/default/icon-ironhide.gif)

[Razorsaw]

Author's Note: I'm REALLY sorry about the long wait here, guys. I've had trouble focusing on fan-ficing.

Also, I didn't get a chance to proofread this as thoroughly as I should, so... if any of you spot something that should be fixed, just point it out.

Shattered Glass - “The Little Things That Kill”
A Story By: Razorsaw

Chapter 03: “Individual”

“Time to wake up, my friend. You've had quite a day, but as the old saying goes – true peace is not found in endless slumber, but in finding contentment in each new day!”

Worker 65437 - or rather, Starscream - groaned as his optics lit up, signifying his return to consciousness. As he looked up in confusion, his vision began to clear... allowing him to see the face of a pointy headed mech staring down at him.

Starscream sat up with a start. “Where am I?!” he exclaimed, as he looked around at his surroundings. He was in a dimly-lit room, but... he could make out a miniature waterfall and several miniature organic plants scattered about... on top of what appeared to be scientific and medical equipment. The former worker mech had never seen anything like it.

And there was some sort of saccharine music playing in the background, providing “ambiance.” Starscream had never heard music very much in his life, but he could recognize what it was, as well as the style...

“You're at the Hub,” said the other Cybertronian in the room... a red, white, and black mech with wings, pincer-like hands, and a distinctive pointed brow. “The headquarters for the rebel underground. You could say that those of us here show that enlightenment comes from unity...! You may call me Thrust!”

Starscream gave “Thrust” a queer look, but stood up, putting his head on the other side of his helm. “What happened to me?” he asked. “I don't remember blacking out...”

“Oh that,” replied Thrust, who had started to work at, of all things, clipping the branches of his trees. “Well, when Cyclonus brought you here, he used a jamming field to suppress the tracking device the Mini-Cons had implanted in you. Unfortunately, it had the unforeseen effect of causing your cognitive functions to shut down. Once he got you here, I had to bring you back on-line.”

Starscream blinked his optics. “You mean... you're a medic?”

Thrust nodded. “Indeed I am,” he said. “Ha ha, I suppose that might seem strange... as those in the camps are usually forced to work, even with serious injury...”

Starscream frowned. “Actually, whenever someone was seriously injured, we never saw them again.”

A loud snapping sound signaled Thrust severing a branch from one of his plants. The expression on the medic's face told Starscream that Thrust most likely hadn't meant to do that.

“Yes... well...” said Thrust. “One must accept reality, I suppose... no matter how terrible it may be...”

Before Starscream could say anything in reply, however, the doors to the room opened, and in stepped the Transformer that Starscream immediately recognized as Cyclonus from the day prior.

“Ah, Thrust!” exclaimed the exuberant mech. “I see that our newest recruit has finally come back to the land of the living. And what's more, your garden is coming along quite nicely! Jolly good sport, my friend!”

Thrust's attitude seemed to change immediately as he turned to face Cyclonus. “Yes, well, you'll find that he's in perfect working order! I even managed to pound out a few dings and dents, as well as some minor structural damage that he must have picked up after working so long in those awful camps!”

Starscream blinked yet again, and flexed his fingers, as if to test what Thrust's claim. Indeed, his joints weren't aching... for the first time in years, it seemed.

“Bully!” replied Cyclonus with a laugh. He spun on his heel and put his hand on Starscream's shoulder. “Are you ready, then?”

Starscream stared. “Ready for what?”

Cyclonus chuckled.

“Why... to meet Megatron, good sport.”

-------

Starscream had to shield his eyes as he, Thrust, and Cyclonus entered the command center of the Hub. Never before had he been allowed into a room with so much light.

It was a vast room, filled with multiple monitors. Well-lit, and standing at the center, was a tall, imposing figure. With prominent, treaded shoulders, and serrated horns that stood upwards like a crown, he was like someone Starscream had never set eyes on before. His armor was black, with added colors of moss brown, bright green, and yellow.

He looked as though he should be an Autonomous Robot, not... the kind of mech that associated with Thrust and Cyclonus.

Or the likes of Starscream himself.

“Demolishor,” said the one-called Megatron, as he addressed a white, teal, and purple Transformer on one of the screens. “How goes the reassessment of the supply routes?”

“Quite well, Commander,” said the mech on screen, who appeared to have a large, monocle-style optic. “We'll be through scouting the area, and ready to return to the hub within a decacycle.”

“Excellent!” replied Megatron. “We'll be able to set up covert supply lines to all of the labor camps in Sector Alpha before long! Excellent work, Demolishor!”

Megatron was prepared to address one of the other faces on-screen, when... he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Cyclonus and his party had arrived. “I'm afraid I'll have to cut you off now, gentlemen. There's a new face here in the hub, and he requires my attention.”

While the majority of the faces responded favorably, Starscream managed to notice “Demolishor” expression contorting into one of annoyance, just before the screens switched off. Megatron then turned to face them, smiling widely.

“So this is the fellow Cyclonus brought in last night,” he said, with a hearty laugh. “Welcome son, welcome to the Hub! You may call me Megatron, leader of the Decepticons.”

Starscream felt like shying away. This Megatron cast a large shadow, in more ways than one. “Um, hello,” he said, timidly.

Megatron blinked his optics, staring for a few moments before chuckling lightly, his voice softer this time. “Starscream is it?” he said. “I imagine this must be very confusing for you...”

Starscream could only nod in reply.

“All, well,” said Cyclonus, giving Starscream some metaphorical breathing room. “That's my fault. You had a rather busy night last night, what with running off, getting accosted by the Hunters... and then me, conking you right out. Everything is happening too fast for you, I suspect?”

Starscream found himself nodding again.

“Ah, I see,” said Megatron, crossing his arms and nodding. “That does make sense. Very well, my boy, take your time. Ask us anything you want.”

Starscream gave the three mechs surrounding him a look... that showed them he was absolutely overwhelmed. It would be several clicks before he managed to even formulate a question.

“You might as well start from the beginning,” he said. “Who you people are... and why the heck you helped me to begin with.”

Megatron smiled.

“Very well then...” he said. “I'll start at the beginning. As I'm sure you've picked up by now... my name is Megatron. And before the age we live in today, I was a part of this Cybertron's peacekeeping force.”

Starscream's eyes widened. “Before...? You mean, you've been alive since before-”

Megatron nodded, and moved to sit down... gesturing for Starscream, Thrust, and Cyclonus to do the same. It took a moment for Starscream to realize what he had to do, and when he finally sat down, he did so rather awkwardly.

“The... old times aren't important,” replied Megatron. “It... wasn't always like it was today...”

-------

They came to us as though they'd been born from the ether. They were like sages to us... they showed us things, possibilities that we'd never even dreamed of. My colleagues at the time... two former great men, saw value in their teachings. They advanced Cybertronian science to the point that we seemed like gods... but the Mini-Cons held the keys to the kingdom. And for a time, they allowed us to use it.

But then, as they rebuilt Cybertron in their image... as they prospered and multiplied, they began to ostracize us further and further. The first labor camps were created. One of my colleagues, Rodimus, began to find displeasure with the Mini-Cons, and demanded that they surrender their technology. He was denied, and began a bloody rebellion that the Mini-Cons used as justification to further take away our rights. For a time, he claimed to be a bastion of liberty... until he finally fled Cybertron, stealing a warship and swearing to sow a Cybertronian Empire amongst the stars.

My other colleague, Optimus Prime, had so completely trusted the Mini-Cons, he was held completely in their grasp. When Rodimus turned on them, all the Liege had to do was simply play upon his feelings of anger and betrayal, and draw him further into their grasp. In time, all semblance of equality disappeared. Mini-Cons had become masters of Cybertron, and all citizens were modified for work in labor camps.

All save for the “Autonomous Robots”... the select few that served as the Mini-Cons' hunters.

-------

After Megatron's story drew to a close, Starscream just sat there, in stunned silence. He had never even conceived the possibility of a Cybertron that was different from the one he had lived on. But the events... they seemed plausible, due to the connections he could draw. Even those in the labor camps knew of Rodimus – his bloody reprisals had been been the justification for the harsher treatment leveled against his fellow laborers by the Overseers.

“So... you're trying to do what Rodimus did,” said Starscream. “You're... rebels, aren't you?”

“Not quite,” replied Cyclonus. “You see... Rodimus only focused on attacking the Mini-Cons. He would even harm laborers if it meant striking a blow against the Liege. Our path is different... we seek victory through military action and emboldening our downtrodden comrades.”

“Indeed,” said Megatron, standing up. “Our focus has been on getting relief to the labor camps, as well as striking out against the Mini-Cons. We aid the runaways... individuals like yourself. Try to liberate workers from the camps, as well as target the Mini-Cons' strongholds.”

Starscream nodded, slowly beginning to understand. “I see...” he said. “Have you had any success...?”

Cyclonus stood up, chuckling. “'Have we had any success?' he asks us! My boy, we've been giving the tiny tossers a run for their money, haven't we?”

Thrust nodded. “Indeed. The Hub is... much more than what you've seen so far, Starscream.”

Starscream nodded again.... when suddenly, he recalled something. “Wait,” he said. “Last night, during the battle with those hunters... Cyclonus, you were with a Mini-Con!”

Megatron, Thrust, and Cyclonus all exchanged glances. Megatron walked towards the central computer console, and turned it on...showing the profiles of several Mini-Cons.

“Council Member Leader-1... Public Safety Commissioner Crumplezone... Communications Network Chief Blackout... Disaster Relief Chairman Inferno,” said Megatron, listing off the titles of several of them. “Just a few of the Mini-Cons that sympathize with our plight, and have been invaluable in our efforts to end persecution.”

“It may be hard to believe,” said Thrust, “but not all Mini-Cons believe in the Liege's ideals. To some of them, 'bulk' is a dirty word.”

Starscream gaped. Forget the story Megatron had told him... the very idea that there were Mini-Cons that were willing to help rebels... that saw bulks as people...!

“In a way, they helped us find a name for ourselves,” said Cyclonus, with a chuckle. “Us and the Mini-Cons, working together to pull the wool over the Liege's eyes and change things, one small step at a time. Deceptive, isn't it, old sport?”

“Hence the name Decepticon,” replied Thrust, rather matter-of-factly.

Starscream nodded yet again. “You gave yourself your own title...” he said. “Like the Autobots... only... you chose it for yourselves...”

“Indeed,” said Megatron. “... For too long, we've all had to languish under their heel. No longer allowed to have names, merely numbers. But as I'm sure you can tell us, Starscream... they can't even keep us from doing that, can they?”

Starscream's optics widened, and he looked away, embarrassed. “My... friends and I... when we didn't have to work, we'd play a game where we took terms naming each other. One of them called me Starscream, and... I don't know, it seemed to fit...”

Megatron smiled, and put a hand on Starscream's shoulder. “A name is a name, my friend, and if you chose it... then it is worthy name indeed. So many of you have never even known what it was like to live according to your own will... and that my friend, is why I wanted to see you personally.”

Starscream gaped. “It... it is...?”

“Indeed,” said Megatron, pulling away. “You see, Starscream... your generation, it has never been allowed to know the freedom of choice. But here at the Hub... you have it now. You don't have to join our cause, Starscream, but here... you can at least live as you will. We have a number of escapees and others that we've liberated here at the Hub, that have started to build a life. It's for them that we fight, Starscream... for they are Cybertron's future.”

Starscream stood there, letting those words sink in. Nothing that he had heard before seemed to have such resonance or magnitude. But more importantly, he was being treated as an individual... someone who mattered.

It was an experience the likes of which he'd never had before.

-------

Several cycles later, Starscream and Thrust had left the control center, and were heading towards the area in which the refugees lived. Starscream stared at the ground, as if deep in thought.

Finally, he reached a decision.

“Thrust?”

The red and white mech stopped and turned around to face him. “Hmm? What is it, Starscream?”

Starscream looked up, his face hardening into an expression of determination. “Thrust... I want to join you. Not just as an escapee... I want to be one of you.

“I want to be a Decepticon.”

To Be Continued

This post has been edited by Razorsaw: Feb 25 2009, 02:33 PM