Archive of Our Own ^beta

When one thought of the name ‘Cyclonus’ certain expectations seemed to come to mind. Death being the foremost, carnage being another, and ‘rude’ being exceptionally common. He was not a popular mech to be sure, and whether as a cause or an effect he valued his solitude. so suffice to say he was a bit surprised when one morning he walked out of his home and was met with a slew of Cybertronians milling about his front lawn. Unused to any form of socializing whatsoever he stepped outside his threshold only to find himself on some kind of makeshift landing strip.

“What.” He muttered irately under his breath.

“CLEAR THE TARMAC!” Somebody shouted near his ear before very rudely shoving him out of the way just as a plane touched down on the landing strip. Two mechs guided the newcomer forwards in a straight line as his legs folded out of his body and skidded across the rock bringing him to a jolting halt. The plane folded back into his root mode and was led off to… Some kind of village of tents that had been set up in Cyclonus’s backyard.

“How in the-” He could barely speak he was so bewildered.

Cyclonus did not weather this lifestyle by accident, cut off from the rest of his kind in the far reaches of outer space. He had found this barren dwarf planet, covered in sulfurous pools that melted anything organic that came into contact with it, and even would begin to corrode metal over time, and he had immediately decided it would be his new fortress.

It wasn’t that he disliked other people (although he did) but more prevalent was that his appearance tended to prevent him from easily making friends or even acquaintances. The average citizen tended to be a bit afraid of a looming skeletal figure with glowing red eyes after all. He’d finally had enough of failed socializing when a scuffle with some seekers ended in one of his horns being blasted off and three new scrap heaps.

Nowadays he didn’t exactly advertise his address, so this begged the question how did they find him​​​!?

And why for that matter.

“You there.” Cyclonus demanded of a nearby bot sitting lazily on his favorite rock outcropping. “What are you all doing here!?”

The bot, a hideous gangly blue thing with one eye and no mouth stared at him in disdain. It seemed to be sizing him up before finally deigning to answer the incredibly simple question.

“Hanging out.” He said. Cyclonus felt his pressure gauges going through the roof.

“Hanging out.” He repeated blankly.

“Mhm.” The blue bot confirmed. A long silence stretched between them.

“GET THE HELL OUT!” Cyclonus suddenly bellowed, smashing the silence into pieces and sending unwanted bots skittering away from him in all directions. All but one that was. The blue thing glared at him, unimpressed.

“There’s no need to be a prude.” He huffed.

“Get out of my home! Who even are you people!? Why are you here!?” Cyclonus puffed up angrily, armor plating flaring out like a huge purple owl while his wings rattled in rage.

“I told you. We’re hanging out.” The blue freak gave as an answer. Cyclonus absolutely exploded in disbelief.

“Give me a real answer now or I will sever your head from your hideous body!” The blue bot finally had the sense to look a bit sheepish as he scrunched into himself.

“Rude. Look, it’s not like there were signs with your name on it or anything. We had no choice, this is the last safe place in this solar system for Autobots. Nobody else dares to come here after all.”

“I don’t care. Leave.”

“Aw come on.” The interloper whined. “Don’t you want to at least know why nowhere is safe for us?”

“I don’t.” Cyclonus grit out, non-existent patience running thin. “Care.”

“I think you will once I tell you.” He said ominously. Cyclonus just growled and tried harder to appear intimidating. Why wasn’t it working on this guy? “You remember your old pal, Galvatron?” The blue creep continued, and finally Cyclonus faltered.

Yes he remembered all right. The mere mention of his former employer sent a shiver down his spine. His mind filled with horrid memories; years of constant physical and verbal abuse. Failed attempts at compromise, tyranny, oppression, an overabundance of the color purple. Galvatron had thoroughly ruined Cyclonus’s afterlife and he had spent ages trying to forget him. He did not appreciate the name being brought up here in his safe haven, and disliked even more the insinuation that somehow he was involved.

“Keep it short.” Cyclonus finally acquiesced. If Galvatron was a threat to him once more, then he had to know about it.

“Well you see!” The blue bot began happily, obviously not intending to keep it short. “Oh, I’m Whirl by the way. Not that you had the manners to ask.” Cyclonus had in fact asked, multiple times, but ‘Whirl’ had ignored him. “It all started a few months ago. Galvatron returned from whatever rock he was hiding under and started throwing anybody identifying with the Autobots in the brig, sentencing them all to execution. No exceptions. He’s been on a war path that dude, and nobody has any clue as to why! But one thing’s for sure, his Decepticons are more tenacious than ever. Without Optimus Prime and his crew around, everybody’s too scared to fight back. And you know Galvatron, reason won’t work. It’s not like we’re even at war anymore, but it seems like he’s intent on starting it back up again. Not that I particularly mind, but he made some questionable comments about helicopters that I refuse to repeat here, and I don’t want anything to do with him so I followed everybody else out here, and now here we are! Hope you don’t mind sharing, buddy.”

Cyclonus did mind sharing. He minded very much.

“All the Autobots are coming here!?” Whirl shook his head.

“No no, just the ones in this galaxy! It’s the only place the Decepticons won’t touch after all, thanks to you and those.” Whirl gestured with a clawed hand to a field of metal spikes impaling the rusting severed heads of Cybertronians, otherwise known as Cyclonus’s front lawn.

“What about him?” Cyclonus pointed across a pool to a Blitzwing standing stock still as if he wouldn’t be seen if only he didn’t move.

“Um.” Whirl faltered. “Honestly, I think he got in trouble or something. He’s probably just confused, don’t worry about it.”

“This is utterly unacceptable!” Cyclonus shouted. “I refuse to be host to your refugees! Leave at once before I make you. And take Blitzwing with you, I don’t want him either.”

“That’s what they all say…” Blitzwing murmured sadly from his ‘hiding’ spot.

“Sorry, we ain’t leaving.” Whirl insisted. “You can threaten us all you want, but we all know that nothing you could do to us is half as bad as Galvatron’s wrath. If you want this to stop, then go get him to stop his mech-hunt.”

“Perhaps I will…” Cyclonus mused, more to himself than anything. Even now, from beyond his grasp Galvatron continued to degrade Cyclonus’s very existence. Well if it was conflict he desired, then perhaps it was what he should receive. Cyclonus no longer held any love for Galvatron. To think that he ever had considered himself loyal now seemed a farce. Ostensibly the Decepticons and Autobots were at peace, or at least a stalemate of sorts. Galvatron had no reason to be instigating violence,not anymore. Not after everything Cyclonus had done for him, for which his only reward was being thrown away in the end.

“Wait, seriously?” Whirl hopped off his rock and began trotting after Cyclonus who had started stalking away as he became consumed in his own thoughts. “I wanna see! I’m coming too!”

“No.” Cyclonus hissed, stalking faster. Whirl didn’t miss a beat and sped up as well.

“You don’t even know where he’s set up shop. You need me.” Cyclonus scowled. Annoyingly, the helicopter was correct. As much as he loved his solitude, it did keep him uninformed in regards to the outside world. Which was how he had gotten into this mess in the first place.

“Don’t slow me down.” Was all Cyclonus gave in response before transforming into his alt mode and jetting away.

Surprisingly, Galvatron had made quite the mark on society while Cyclonus had hidden himself away. He had rebuilt the Nemesis, larger and uglier than ever, and was running his new platoon of Decepticons like a well oiled machine. This of course, is why it didn’t take long at all for Cyclonus and Whirl to be seized by guards and brought before the tyrant himself.

Galvatron sat on a throne of twisted metal that it took only a few moments to identify as the severed body parts of various Cybertronians, both Decepticon and Autobot alike. Behind him hung a massive portrait made of tile mosaic depicting the smirking face of Megatron, back when he wasn’t so… Galvatron-y.

“Weeeell.” Galvatron hissed. “If it isn’t my old second in command. Back to betray me again!?” Cyclonus sighed.

“Galvatron. Why are you doing this? There is no reason for the war to continue. Are you consumed only by bloodlust after all?”

“OF COURSE I AM!” Galvatron screamed. “I WANT NOTHING BUT THE AUTOBOTS’ SLOW PAINFUL DEATHS!”

“Then what has changed? Why now after all this time?”

“Because, you pawn.” Galvatron spat, now at a more reasonable volume. “I have fallen in love.”

If Cyclonus hadn’t already lost the capacity to feel shock at anything Galvatron said he may have reacted more strongly. As it was he merely froze up for a moment, reset his audials, and then checked his logs to ensure that yes, Galvatron had just claimed to be in love.

“I’m afraid I… don’t see the connection.” Cyclonus said slowly.

“There is no connection.” Whirl muttered from beside him. “He’s a lunatic, plain and simple.”

Although he was inclined to agree, Cyclonus still wanted more context, if only for his own sanity.

“My love.” Galvatron said wistfully. “She is as beautiful as… Well I forgot what she looks like, but she’s the crown princess of the planet Conquesta, known as one of the most powerful military forces in the universe! Behind Cybertron of course… Her father passed recently and she will be crowned queen soon. Once I marry her and seize hold of Conquesta I will once again be the most powerful being in the universe! Then they’ll see! THEY’LL ALL SEE!!!”

Cyclonus and Whirl stared, utterly stunned. They glanced at each other as if to ask ‘Have you ever heard of Conquesta?’ To which they each shook their heads no. This story had too many plot holes to count.

“Galvatron, what does your betrothed princess have to do with this new attack on the Autobots of all things?”

“Because!” Galvatron snarled. “They stole her! Those damnable Autobots snatched her right out of my berth one night and she’s been missing ever since! I refuse to relent in my attack on their putrid ranks until she is returned!”

“So you can take power and destroy the Autobots?”

“CORRECT!”

Cyclonus wanted to say: ‘well then why would they ever return her!?’ but old instincts advised him to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t really care what happened to the Autobots in the end. He just wanted them off of his planet. If helping Galvatron succeed in whatever delusion he had concocted accomplished that then… Well maybe he would be willing to bend some of his principles.

“Mighty Galvatron,” Cyclonus said, bowing his head reluctantly. “If I assist you in recovering the princess, will you call off your hunt?” Galvatron nodded.

“If only so that I may get around to INCINERATING the Autobots sooner!”

“Then I shall help you.” He said, misery already weighing in his spark like a ton of steel. “Do you know where she is being held captive?”

“Of course I do!” Galvatron spat. “It was one of those gruesome idiotic Dinobots that took her! They locked her somewhere on Earth of all places! Horrible!”

Cyclonus could have questioned why Galvatron did not go to get her himself if he knew where she was, but he honestly just wanted this interaction to end as soon as possible.

“When next I return I will have your princess in tow.” He swore, and without another word stood and marched out of the throne room. It took several paces once he had exited the hallway to realize that Whirl was still keeping pace behind him. “You have until I return to get everybody off my planet.” He told the bot gravely. Whirl just laughed and shook his head.

“I’m coming with you. Something about this whole thing stinks, and I want to know what.”

“And why should I let you?” Cyclonus insisted.

“Why shouldn’t you?” Whirl countered. “I may not be stellar conversation but you’re no prize either.”

Cyclonus snarled. “I gain nothing from your company.”

“Well let me change that.” Whirl countered. “Just let me tag along and when we get back I’ll tell all the Autobots swarming your home what a big scary meany you were! ‘Oh he hurt me so bad!’ I’ll say. Then nobody will ever bug you again.”

“Watch yourself, or you may not have to lie.” Cyclonus promised, but prodded the issue no longer.

When all was said and done it actually took several days for Whirl and Cyclonus to finally reach the coordinates that Galvatron had messily scribbled onto a light pad and then thrown at them. At last they touched down at the location the alleged princess was supposedly imprisoned at.

It had been difficult, but Cyclonus had somehow managed not to separate Whirl’s head from his body at any point, no matter how incessant his yapping had gotten.

Before them was a large stone building. Nothing impressive by Cybertronian standards, but definitely too large for the humans to find practical. Cyclonus took a moment to let his translation programs decipher the words above the main entrance. Written across the entryway were the words: ‘British History Museum’. The doors and windows had been boarded up with large metal sheets and the surrounding city area was completely deserted.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a populated area? Where’s all the human things?” Whirl asked, his voice echoing into the eerie silence.

Cyclonus only shook his head in reply. His attention had been stolen by a large conspicuous structure placed awkwardly behind the human building. It almost looked like some kind of ramp, but he couldn’t figure out what the humans could possibly be using it for.

“Keep your optic open. Galvatron said she would be guarded.” Readying his blade Cyclonus stalked towards the entryway.

The metal blocking the entry had been shoddily assembled and the pair found that it was easily ripped off with bare minimum force. The shutters crunched loudly, the sound bouncing around the hallways uninhibited.

“This place gives me the creeps.” Whirl muttered.

“Let’s split up.” Replied Cyclonus immediately.

“Exactly- Wait, what!?” Whirl whipped his head around, optic blaring with shock. “No! Why would we do that!?”

“This building is too large to search as one unit. And I don’t want to be near you anymore than I have to be.”

“What if I find the Dinobot!?” Whirl balked.

“Then scream.” Deadpanned Cyclonus before turning and stalking away. Miraculously Whirl actually obeyed and didn’t follow Cyclonus, instead setting off down the opposite hallway muttering profanities under his breath.

Cyclonus did not regret his choice to split up. He had always preferred his solitude. He was a ruthless killer. The former second in command to one of the worst tyrants in history. He feared nothing. He absolutely did not find himself tensing at the shadows in corners and darting his optics around the glass covered human relics that filled every space in the building. A twisted imitation of a face carved from stone caught his optic and he did not feel a shiver down his spine.

Cyclonus turned into yet another vast room of exhibits and scanned quickly. His gaze caught on a peculiar statue situated towards the left of the room, standing stock still on its podium, separated from visitors by nothing but a velvet rope.

He approached the statue, cocking his head as he analyzed it. It didn’t really match the rest of the room’s contents, being made of refined metal and bolts instead of whatever crude materials humans usually preferred. He wasn’t sure why the little thing had caught his attention but it was just so bizarre looking he felt the need to size it up better. It was short and stout, but top heavy with long plier-like feet to distribute its weight evenly. It had a small head with no visible face behind its visor and mask. The statue was painted white and blue and posed as if it was in the middle of ballet dancing.

He supposed it could be considered kind of cute in a way, but he didn’t understand what could have possibly prompted the humans to create such a thing. Cyclonus leaned in close and examined the statue’s face. He suddenly had a strange urge to push it over, and well. He had no real reason not to. The statue fell to the floor with a crash but didn’t break or even move from its pose at all. How underwhelming.

Losing interest in the exhibit Cyclonus turned and continued his search for the princess he was quite certain didn’t even exist. He should have left Galvatron in that psych-ward when he had the chance. He’d barely gotten a few steps when the sound of skittering metal footsteps echoed off the museum’s walls, disappearing just as quickly as they’d began.

Whipping around so fast his neck struts cracked, he scanned the room again, but nobody was behind him. The room was still empty save for himself. He turned his gaze back in the direction of the podium and froze. The statue was gone.

Slowly he pulled his weapon from its sheath and lowered his stance, preparing for an attack. He could see in the dark just fine with his scanners but chose to flip on his lights anyway in hopes of disorienting any would-be ambushes. Suddenly, a quiet clink from behind him.

Cyclonus whipped around and roared in fury, blade raised. His lights landed on the statue from earlier, now crouched awkwardly near the floor, visor glowing in panic as it tried to slither towards the door he had come from.

“DON’T SHOOT!” The statue cried, throwing its hands into the air.

Cyclonus froze. A million possibilities ran through his mind as he sized up his opponent until at last. He remembered why he was here.

“…...Princess?” He asked hesitantly, and then immediately felt like an idiot. The statue, which had turned out to be a bot, stared back silently as if it agreed with him. Then its visor blipped and it drew itself up to its full (unimpressive) height and dusted itself off.

“That’s right!” It declared suddenly. “Princess Tailgate, in the alloy.”

It was Cyclonus’s turn to stare as if the other was an idiot. Before he could manage to form a coherent sentence though, the sound of twirling blades appeared and rapidly became louder until Whirl, half transformed, smashed into the room, shattering several display cases in his path of carnage. Finally he came to halt and reverted to his root mode, guns at the ready.

“I heard screaming!” He screamed, glancing between Cyclonus and Princess Tailgate. “Who’s the pipsqueak?” He asked.

The squeak in question fumed. “How dare you! I’m royalty I’ll have you know!” Whirl stared at Cyclonus dumbfounded.

“What, really!?”

“I’m not sure…” Was all Cyclonus could think to say.

“It’s true!” Tailgate insisted, straining ‘her’ skinny legs to stand a bit taller. Apparently that dig on ‘her’ height had gotten to ‘her’.

“It can’t be.” Cyclonus spat.

“And why not!?” The tiny princess insisted haughtily.

“You aren’t a princess. Just look at you, you’re not even a femme.” Tailgate spluttered.

“Well- I’ll have you know I only just started. Don’t be rude!”

“You don’t look like you’ve had even a single modification.” Cyclonus countered.

“Not all of us want to strut around looking like Windblade, you know!”

Cyclonus narrowed his optics suspiciously.

“I don’t believe you.”

Tailgate fumed again and clenched ‘her’ fists.

“You’ll believe me when you face the consequences that come with insulting an heir to the throne!” ‘she’ spat, trying to get up in Cyclonus’s face in challenge, but only reaching the tops of his hips.

“So then, you insist that you really are the crown princess of the planet Vanquishatron, home to the second greatest military might in the universe?” Tailgate nodded, a satisfied look spreading across ‘her’ face.

“That’s right.”

“That’s interesting considering Galvatron told us you were the princess of somewhere called Conquesta.” Tailgate froze, smugness remaining glued to ‘her’ like a persistent fog.

“He-” Tailgate stuttered. “He misremembered. I’m from Vanquishatron but he must have thought it was called Conquesta.” Cyclonus frowned and shook his head.

“Galvatron is a stubborn fool but even he wouldn’t forget the name of something he desires so badly. Besides, Vanquishatron doesn’t exist.”

Whirl, who had been watching the exchange in amusement, finally chimed in.

“I imagine Conquesta doesn’t either.” he snickered. “So what’s really going on here, ‘Princess’?”

Tailgate remained frozen for a beat before deflating like a balloon letting out its air.

“It’s pretty rude to interrogate someone without even introducing yourself you know…” He mumbled dejectedly.

“I’m Whirl and the ugly one is Cyclonus.” Whirl said. “Now fess up. Who are you really, and what the hell is going on?”

“It’s really not that complicated.” Tailgate began. “There I was, minding my own business, when Galvatron appears out of nowhere and starts screaming at me! I’d never even met the guy before, mind you! I think he was on one of his benders… Anyway, the freak’s like five times my size and could have mashed me into a fine powder. So I did the only thing I could! I smooth-talked my way out of it. Now we’re here.”

Cyclonus blinked in bewilderment. Tailgate’s story was so uninformative it was almost impressive.

“You did the only thing you could.” Cyclonus repeated.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And you ended up engaged to him?”

“Correct.”

“How.”

Tailgate cocked his head and stared derisively at the mechs towering above him.

“Boy, you guys are pretty stupid huh? I thought I made that clear!”

“The only thing you made clear is that you’re insane!” Whirl spat. He turned to Cyclonus, disbelief written across his voice. “What do we do then, pal?” Cyclonus stared at Tailgate for a long moment before answering in a low voice.

“The plan hasn’t changed.” Whirl snapped his head towards his companion in shock.

“It hasn’t!?”

“Hey guys.” Tailgate cut in. “Mind keeping me in the loop? What plan?”

“We’re here to rescue you.” Cyclonus said in the least comforting voice possible.

Tailgate threw up his brows and stared. “Rescue me from what exactly? I’m hiding from Galvatron!”

“You weren’t kidnapped by a Dinobot?” Said Whirl.

“No? Do you see any Dinobots around here? Any on your way in? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Regardless.” Cyclonus scowled. “You are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

Before he could even finish his sentence though, Tailgate had bolted out of the room like a flash of white lightning. His clawed footsteps skittered down the hall and disappeared.

“Smooth.” Muttered Whirl.

“He can’t get far.” Cyclonus growled as he began stalking down the hallway after the minibot.

Cyclonus found that his pursuit was very similar to his first round of searching, though now his hesitance had been replaced with utter annoyance. He scanned rooms, blocked hallways, started setting traps and blockades in hopes of tricking the minibot should he try and slip past. But no matter where he searched, Tailgate was nowhere to be found. By the third time he doubled back into a room filled with medieval armor and weaponry he was just about ready to abandon the whole gambit in favor of ripping the irritating creature limb from limb.

He turned, about to leave again after yet another scan of the room came up empty, when all of a sudden a heavy weight dropped out of nowhere and landed on his head. A small hand gripped his one remaining horn for dear life while Cyclonus shook his head like a dog shaking off water.

“Geez!” The thing on his head yelled. “Calm down!”

“Get off of me!” Cyclonus roared in fury before reaching up and trying to pull Tailgate off of his shoulders.

“How’d this happen, huh?” Tailgate asked, poking at the jagged stump of Cyclonus’s other horn. Cyclonus froze, stunned by the tiny bots audacity.

“It’s none of your business.” He hissed.

“Ha! And you gave me crap for my lack of mods. Just go to a shop and get it fixed!” Tailgate continued poking at the horn as Cyclonus felt his rage rising.

“There isn’t a mod-shop on Cybertron that would allow me one step into the door. What’s your excuse? You are the most pathetic excuse for a femme that I’ve ever seen!” Tailgate gasped sarcastically.

“Unbelievable! If I hadn’t made that up I would be in tears right now! How could you!?”

“Oh, what haven’t you lied about!? Now GET OFF!!” Cyclonus shook his head violently again but Tailgate’s grip held firm.

“Hey wait, I’ve got just the thing!” He exclaimed, then jumped off of Cyclonus.

Cyclonus stared down at him with fury and disgust in his eyes while Tailgate popped open his subspace and started rummaging around.

“That’s not it. No. Not it. Not that.” He mumbled.

It seemed he had quite a lot of junk in there, as every movement elicited loud clanking and rattling noises. He tossed items aside casually during his search for whatever it was he wanted to find. One of the items he discarded seemed to be some kind of antique human explosive and Cyclonus’s optics bulged as he watched it roll across the room before tapping harmlessly against a cabinet.

“Oh!” Tailgate snapped his head up as if remembering something before practically skipping across the room. “Wait right there!” He called over his shoulder and then proceeded to use his fist to shatter a huge display case into a thousand pieces. Out of the wreckage he pulled a long sword, double-edged and polished to a luminescent shine. The hilt glittered with rubies and the etchings on the blade seemed to tell stories of giants, lightning, and warfare from a time long past. Tailgate ran back to Cyclonus holding the sword and presented it proudly like a dog bringing back a ball. “Let’s stick this on!” He said triumphantly.

“Absolutely not.” Cyclonus denied, but Tailgate was already awkwardly climbing his leg with the sword in one hand.

“You’ll love it, it’s gonna look great!” He insisted.

“It’s not even the right shape!” Cyclonus insisted and began once again trying to dislodge the parasite clinging to him. Deceptively nimble, Tailgate evaded his every grab.

“Do not put that on me!!” Cyclonus screamed, but despite his thrashing, despite his cries of anger, Tailgate was unrelenting. By the time Cyclonus’s tenacity had been exhausted, Tailgate had snapped the blade off of the sword and hastily welded it to the broken base of Cyclonus’s horn, all while he was bucking like a horse.

“Hmm.” Tailgate hummed, surveying his work. “Wow, that does look bad, you were right.”

“Are you satisfied with yourself?” Cyclonus spat. “Are you ready to stop acting like a child and face up to your actions yet!?” Tailgate faltered, his visor flickering.

“What is the plan you mentioned to Whirl?” He asked nervously. “Because- because if you’re going to take me back to Galvatron then-”

“That’s right.” Cyclonus said simply. Tailgate’s visor sparked in alarm and he took several steps back. “Don’t try to run.” He matched the minibot’s steps with his own, closing the distance faster than it was created. “You created this mess and now you’re going to fix it. So stop being stubborn and come with me.”

“I can’t! I don’t want to! He’ll- he’ll rip me apart and besides… I just can’t, please!”

“You should have thought of that before you lied.” Cyclonus snarled as he lunged forwards, claws like scythes reaching out to grab Tailgate. Before he could make contact though, the little mech folded in on himself, swapping hastily into his alt mode before skidding around the corner and disappearing. Cyclonus stared stonily after him for a moment before moving forwards with unhurried steps.

Tailgate must have been panicking, because his earlier stealth had vanished entirely, tire tracks left carelessly on polished marble creating a clear map of his route that Cyclonus followed like a bloodhound. Somewhere along the way he ran into Whirl again who had apparently still been paranoid about an ambush and had been casing the joint.

“We’re grabbing him and leaving. Use force if you have to.” Was all Cyclonus said in way of greeting before continuing on his warpath.

It didn’t take long until the pair had Tailgate cornered in a room. The idiot had been living in here for Primus knows how long but had apparently forgotten that this particular room had only one entrance.

“Don’t come any closer!” He cried from the corner where he was attempting to fold himself into a cabinet. “I-I’ve got fusion canons that could blast your heads into a thousand pieces!”

“Keep the door blocked.” Cyclonus commanded before stomping over to Tailgate. The little car tried to run, but Cyclonus smashed his boot down in front of his face, nearly causing a head on collision.

“AAAAAHHHH” Tailgate screamed and desperately dodged the opposite direction, but it was too late. Cyclonus shot his hand out like a viper and smashed it down on top of Tailgate’s back, pinning him easily between the floor and a massive fist.

He squirmed and screamed, engine sputtering as he started overheating in his frenzied attempts to escape, but Cyclonus just grabbed him by the back of the neck with his other hand and shifted his entire weight into the pin.

“Gack!” Was all Tailgate could manage as the floor beneath him started to crack.

“Whirl, grab me some of those ropes from the other room!” Cyclonus barked and Whirl looked on in bewilderment for a moment before leaving to do as he was told. He returned a few moments later with an armload of the velvet ropes used in displays in the other rooms. Wordlessly he passed them to Cyclonus who took them in equal silence.

After some more wriggling and a few muttered curses, Cyclonus finally straightened up, an indignant Tailgate thrown over his shoulder with his limbs bound. In Cyclonus’s other hand he held the end of several velvet ropes tied together to create a leash, the end tied to Tailgate’s scruff.

“Kinda harsh don’t you think?” Whirl said, unimpressed.

“I don’t care.” His companion hissed as he shoved past him. “We got what we came for, let’s go.”

“You can’t do this to me!” Tailgate wailed. His visor was overflowing with blue sparks popping out of his face like a live wire. “It’s not right! You’re pure evil! Monster! I didn’t consent! All you Decepticons are the same!”

Cyclonus just grimaced and shook his passenger violently.

“I wish you had a mouth so I could weld it shut!”

Unfortunately Tailgate continued his incessant whining as they made their way back through the maze-like museum and out the entrance. Why humans insisted on building their structures as unintuitively as possible was something Cyclonus would never be able to figure out.

They’d barely made it ten paces past the entryway when Whirl froze. He put out a claw, stopping Cyclonus who threw him a raised brow.

“Something’s wrong.” Was all he gave in way of an explanation.

Immediately Cyclonus went on high alert. He tucked Tailgate under his arm and drew his sword, head swiveling around in alarm. At first glance everything looked the same as it had when they entered. Still eerily silent. Still strangely devoid of life. The only thing of note nearby was that odd black ramp structure in front of the museum. Cyclonus’s entire body jolted in shock. The ramp. It had been behind the museum when they arrived.

“Retreat!” Was all Cyclonus managed to get out before the air was filled with a cacophony of scraping metal and whirring gears. A loud metallic roar rattled the ground as the structure unfolded into the shape of a colossal reptilian beast, easily a hundred times larger than Cyclonus.

“I thought you said there was noDinobot!” Whirl screamed as he shielded his head from flying debris.

“Does that look like a Dinobot to you!?” Tailgate yelled over the din.

“It’s Trypticon!” Cyclonus shouted, horror flooding his fuel lines. “What the hell is it doing here!?”

“Don’t worry about that, just run!” Was his captive’s panicked reply.

Cyclonus transformed into his alt mode, Tailgate tucked into his cabin, and attempted to escape into the sky but a flying piece of concrete collided with his wing and sent him spinning off course. Whirl was faring even worse, his delicate blades unable to withstand the hailstorm of rocks being rained down on them by the titanic mech bearing down on them.

Deciding immediately that Whirl was a lost cause, Cyclonus switched to a ground retreat. He flipped into root mode, Tailgate shoved back under his arm, and bolted. Behind him Trypticon’s roar shook the earth.

It didn’t matter how fast he ran, one step from the massive beast could catch up with him instantaneously. Whirl sprinted to his side, having followed his example in escaping on foot.

“Plan!?” He asked desperately.

“Survive.” Cyclonus said gravely.

“Easier said than done! What do we even do, we can’t fight it, can’t outrun it. Do you think reason could work!?” Cyclonus glanced at the beast’s face doubtfully.

“Actually maybe.” Tailgate’s muffled voice came from under Cyclonus’s armpit.

“Huh!?” Whirl cried.

“Well, he’s sort of like my landlord.” Tailgate pulled his head out of Cyclonus’s arm prison and looked at the stunned faces above him. “What? What’s that look for? He’s been guarding the area while I’ve been hiding here. Him and Octane are close and Octane wasn’t hard to bribe so I had a little help in escaping Galvatron.”

“Tell him to stop then!!!” Cyclonus roared.

“Oh I can’t do that.” Tailgate said simply. Cyclonus ducked a large chunk of concrete that nearly took his head off.

“Why not!?”

“He doesn’t like me.” Tailgate said simply. Cyclonus felt like screaming. It was taking everything he and Whirl had to concentrate on ducking and weaving to avoid the chaos being thrown into the air by Trypticon’s heavy footsteps, and meanwhile Tailgate was sat comfortably in his hold spouting the most nonsensical excuses he had ever heard. “You see it was Octane who owed me the favor, not Trypticon, and he tolerated me at first but I kinda got bored and graffitied all over his foot and hoo boy that did not make him happy.”

“And that’s why he’s trying to kill us!?” Whirl shrieked as a piece of re-bar whizzed past his head.

“Could be.” Tailgate mused noncommittally.

Whirl cursed and flipped into his alt mode, shooting straight up into the sky.

“Where are you going!?” Cyclonus shouted but received no answer and had no attention to spare for a follow up.

Whirl whizzed up towards Trypticon’s face and transformed back into his root mode mid-air, landing clumsily on top of the monster’s huge snout.

“Hey!” He yelled over the wind. Trypticon stilled for a moment and stared at the creature on his nose. “Trypticon, aren’t you a follower of Galvatron!?”

Trypticon stared for a moment and blissfully the carnage around him grew silent. Down below Cyclonus darted over to a fallen building and took cover. Then Trypticon’s booming voice cut through the stillness.

“Galvatron my master. Autobot my enemy!” Whirl felt his spark jump and he rushed to explain himself before Trypticon could begin attacking again.

“Okay well! We’re doing a favor for your master! So I think it’s really in your best interest if you just let us go, okay!??” Trypticon paused as if considering.

“Octane say tiny Autobot stay here!”

“But Galvatron say tiny Autobot go to him!” Whirl cried. “He’s your boss, not Octane!”

Trypticon whined as if in some sort of great turmoil with himself.

“It true Octane not boss. But Octane call Trypticon pretty.”

Whirl stared dumbfounded.

“….What?”

“Octane call Trypticon ‘Tryptibabes’. Make Trypticon feel special. Galvatron never make Trypticon feel special!”

Whirl could not parse what the hell he was being told right now or what sort of implications it had. His best guess was that Octane was probably just an idiot who said absurd things, but it might not be in his best interest to say that out loud right now. Instead he decided to jam his claw into the opening he’d been given.

“You are very special!” Whirl cried. “You’re very special and very… Pretty… Anybody with half a processor could see that!”

Trypticon stared cross-eyed at Whirl, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Really!?”

“Yes!” Whirl nodded vigorously. “So lustrous and majestic! Octane is right to compliment you! And listen, we aren’t going to get him in trouble. You either for that matter. Galvatron doesn’t have to know either of you were involved in this at all! So do you mind letting us go?”

The huge dinosaur was considering, he could tell from the way that the literal gears in his head were very audibly turning.

“Tiny white one is annoying.” He said as if weighing his decisions.

“He’s the worst!” Whirl agreed. Somewhere down on the ground Tailgate was trying to curse loudly in outrage but being thwarted by Cyclonus’s smothering hands.

“Okay.” Trypticon finally said. “Trypticon make deal with you. Trypticon turn around and count to ten. You run away. Trypticon pretend you not here.”

“Yes!” Whirl agreed enthusiastically. “That’s perfect, thank you er… Tryptibabes!”

“It strange when you do it.” Trypticon muttered but turned around anyway, shaking Whirl off his snout in the process. Whirl transformed and started booking it in the opposite direction.

“GO!” He yelled at the two below. They didn’t need to be told twice. Cyclonus jumped into his plane mode and shot off as fast as he could manage as Trypticon began counting behind them.

“One. Two. Four. Eight. Six. Uh. One-”

But they were out of earshot before he ever could figure out what came after ‘two’

The group lay stunned at the edge of the city, vents working overtime as they took a moment to recover from their treacherous escape. Eventually the silence was broken by an impatient clearing of a throat.

“Can you let me out now?” It was Tailgate, still wrapped in museum crowd control ropes where he had been unceremoniously dropped into a heap.

“You’ll just run again!” Whirl protested before Cyclonus had a chance to lose his temper.

“No I won’t!” Tailgate lied. “Trypticon won’t let me stay there anymore, I have nowhere to go so I may as well stick with you all.”

“Listen.” Whirl huffed as he crossed his arms. “Don’t think for a second that what’s going on here has nothing to do with you. Galvatron wants all Autobots destroyed. And that-” Whirl poked a clawed finger at Tailgate’s chest, scraping off a layer of hastily applied paint covering the bright red insignia hidden underneath. “-means you. What do you think is going to happen when he finds out you lied to him? You’ll be first on his list and then everybody you’ve ever known and loved will come next.”

Tailgate stared with big wide optics for a long time before turning his head and looking at the ground.

“A little late for that.” He muttered.

“Be that as it may, we’re not giving you a choice.” Said Cyclonus who finally seemed to have gathered his wits about him. “We’re bringing you back to Galvatron one way or another. We can do it the easy way or the hard way.”

“Fine. FINE! Untie me then. I won’t run, you have my word.”

“Not that it’s worth much.” Cyclonus sighed but moved forwards to unwrap Tailgate anyway. A few minutes of wrestling with knots later and Tailgate was free. All except for the makeshift leash wrapped around his neck.

“What is this all about!?” He cried indignantly.

“Insurance.”

“If you’re going to treat me like a dog you’d better at least feed me.”

“Don’t worry.” Cyclonus waved a hand in dismissal as he began pulling Tailgate by the lead towards a nearby clearing suitable for takeoff. “We brought more than enough rations under the assumption that you would be much larger.”

The journey to Earth had been long and tiresome, and the journey back promised to be ten times more so. Tailgate had not shut his mouth the entire time, and unlike Whirl he couldn’t fly by himself so Cyclonus had to carry him, putting them in unpleasant proximity.

“And then when all hope seemed to be lost, I tore off my own foot and used it as a boomerang, hitting the self-destruct switch and saving the planet! The locals worshiped me like a hero for years afterwards.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cyclonus had tried to ignore him at first, but that only made Tailgate mad. And when he got mad he started whining and hitting random buttons on his console just to get Cyclonus’s attention. In light of these facts Cyclonus had compromised and started half paying attention, responding when seemed appropriate with minimal effort. Something was seriously wrong with this bot’s processor.

“What about you, big man?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious, tell me something! It would be kinda nice to know who kidnapped me!”

Cyclonus frowned.

“I don’t have any stories for you.”

“Ha! Yeah right!” Tailgate laughed. “Anything will do, don’t be so antisocial!”

Primus, he wasn’t going to let up until Cyclonus said something was he? He briefly considered lying, but he’d never been much good at it and complicating his own history was likely only to cause more intrigue. Best to stick to the most unappealing facts possible.

“I was Galvatron’s second in command during the war.”

As expected a long uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Cyclonus was just about to celebrate his victory when a voice piped up again from inside his cabin.

“Was?”

Dammit, he was still interested.

“That’s right. No war anymore, so no need to serve him.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As Tailgate so helpfully pointed out.

“You can’t really say there’s no war anymore if Galvatron is still causing problems with his Decepticons. It’s just that the Autobots are winning at the moment.”

“So what, it’s been that way for millennia. This war has had more false ends than can be counted and will likely continue to have more for eternity until one or both sides are eradicated.” And if Cyclonus had any say in the matter he wouldn’t be around to witness any of it ever again.

“So then why did you quit?”

“You’re awfully nosy, you know that!?”

“I’m bored, can you blame me!?” Tailgate crossed his arms and huffed.

“If you must know, I quit because Galvatron was and is a megalomaniacal psychopath. He hurt everybody around him in his pursuits of conquest until nobody even remembered what we were fighting for anymore! He’s a monster who should have been destroyed as soon as we had the opportunity!”

Cyclonus ex-vented harshly to expel the extra heat he had started generating by accident. Tailgate sat awkwardly in silence for a few moments, which seemed to be about as long as he could bear not talking.

“Is that what happened to your horn?”

Cyclonus blinked in surprise.

“No. That was an unrelated incident. I escaped without much permanent damage. You should have seen what he did to his previous air commander…”

Despite Starscream now being alive and… maybe not ‘well’ but he certainly was living boldly, it was obvious that his insanity wasn’t all his own. Cyclonus had sometimes wondered what the seeker had been like before Megatron, but always told himself it was of no concern to himself. Now though he allowed himself to think for a moment. If he had been trapped with Galvatron for millions of years, standing by his side through thick and thin like Starscream had, would he have been able to remain whole?

His thoughts were cut short by Tailgate saying the most insane thing he had ever heard.

“You should join the Autobots!”

“No.” Cyclonus snarled with finality.

“Why not!? If you hate Galvatron then join his enemies. Seems like the smart thing to do if you ask me!”

How could he possibly explain? Why would he explain? The Decepticon cause had originally been just. It had been right. It was Megatron that had twisted it into something ugly and Galvatron that had hammered the final nail into the coffin. The current Decepticons didn’t care about equality or justice, they didn’t care about feeding their people or preventing tyranny. They only cared about power and inflicting pain.

The Autobots though…

“Those self-righteous fraggers would never even consider allowing someone like me to join them. Even if I wanted to, which I do not.”

Tailgate tilted his head in confusion.

“Someone like you?”

“Are you mocking me!? Do I have to spell it out!? Do I look like ‘good guy’ material? Even if they forgave my past, do you honestly think any of them would accept a freak like me into their ranks!? Do you think they want me walking free on Cybertron, wantonly scaring sparklings wherever I walk!?”

“Aww, you’re not scary.” Tailgate said cheerily. Cyclonus felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “Anyways, they let Whirl in, didn’t they? He’s way more questionable than you.”

“I heard that!” Whirl cried from somewhere just out of view.

“Well anyway, I don’t think it’s healthy to ruin your own future over the things you regret doing.”

Cyclonus had never said he regretted his time with Galvatron and the Decepticons. He… did obviously, but that wasn’t what he had been implying at all! Arguing with Tailgate was infuriating.

He was trying to think of an appropriately scathing response when Whirl careened into his vision, motor buzzing in panic.

“We’re under attack!” He screamed seconds before a blast sent him careening towards an asteroid. Cyclonus hurriedly landed on the asteroid and reverted to his root mode, weapons being readied while Whirl peeled himself off of the rock nearby.

Three Autobots dropped out of the sky in front of Cyclonus, guns drawn and determination on their faces.

“Hand over your hostage, Decepticon scum!” The one in front barked.

Cyclonus stared gormless at his opponent.

“...What?”

“The minibot!” The one on the left insisted, gesturing towards Tailgate who had stanced up in front of Cyclonus’s legs like an angry Pomeranian. “You’ll hand over our ally now, or face the consequences.”

“I’m an Autobot, why are you shooting at me!?” Whirl cried from off to the side where he was picking rocks out of his joints. The hostile Autobot squinted at him suspiciously.

“Aren’t you that Shockwave guy?”

“Are you stupid!?”

“We didn’t kidnap him.” Cyclonus cut in. “This has nothing to do with you, move on.”

“I mean you kinda did…” Tailgate muttered.

“Not helping!” He growled through gritted teeth.

Their bickering was cut short by the impatient Autobots opening fire without warning.

“Hey! I thought you were trying to rescue me!” Tailgate cried as he narrowly ducked a shot. “Knock it off!”

With a swift left jab Tailgate smashed into the Autobot’s kneecap, shattering it completely and sending him careening to the ground with a scream. The other two recoiled momentarily before regrouping.

“Traitor!” One of them cried and started charging his cannon. The other moved to buy his companion time. Stepping over Tailgate easily he surged forwards towards Cyclonus, feinting right before suddenly swapping direction and bashing him directly in the face with the butt of his gun. Plating ripped and energon splattered across the ground. Cyclonus jumped back and pulled out his own blaster, firing off two shots at his attacker. The first missed. The second caught the Autobot in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. At that exact moment Tailgate appeared out of seemingly nowhere, launching himself through the air to land on the Autobot’s head which he started scratching furiously with his bare hands.

Behind the struggle, the Autobot with the shattered kneecap had managed to stagger back to his feet. Seeing his comrade in trouble he grabbed at Tailgate, gripping his entire head in one hand and wrenching backwards hard.

“EEYAAYE!” Tailgate screamed as he was ripped off of the other mech’s helm and tossed to the ground.

It was amazing that Tailgate had been able to move as well as he had, considering the fact that he still had a makeshift leash tied around his head. But his luck had seemingly run out now as the attacking bot finally noticed the bright red object. Confusion flashed across his face for just a moment, but then he smirked and lunged forwards. In one swift move he grabbed the end of the leash and, to Cyclonus’s mild amusement, started spinning it around in the air like a lasso, sending Tailgate flying in circles as he screamed.

“Hey I’m the spinny guy around here!” Whirl shouted as he body slammed the Autobot, causing him to drop Tailgate, the sudden halt in motion launching him towards Cyclonus. The little bot smashed into his chest like a cannon ball, knocking all the air out of his cooling systems and sending them crashing into the ground in a heap.

Any attempts at reorienting themselves was thwarted by a warning yell from Whirl and the whining of a laser cannon at full charge.

“Die, Decepticon scum!” The last remaining Autobot yelled as he aimed his weapon.

He never got a chance to shoot it though because a plasma blast, quick as lightning with impeccable aim, landed straight down the barrel of his huge cannon. The two destructive energies collided and the cannon exploded into fiery devastation.

The shock wave sent the trio flying across the asteroid, heat licking at their armor as the chaos consumed the small rock. Cyclonus realized Tailgate was still hanging on to his arm desperately and instinctively he tucked himself into a ball to shield him. Whirl flew past, screeching curses as he bounced across the rocky surface.

It took several long seconds for the explosion to disperse. Finally the eerie silence of space returned and Cyclonus allowed himself to uncurl from his defensive position. Whirl peeled himself out of the crevice he had crammed himself into and Tailgate rolled away from Cyclonus halfheartedly, coughing violently.

“Are you alright?” Cyclonus asked, shaking his head to re-calibrate himself. Tailgate didn’t answer. “Hey-” Cyclonus tried to reach for Tailgate’s shoulder but he jumped away like a startled cat.

“Fine!” He squeaked, surreptitiously wiping his hand on a nearby outcropping. “Head’s still spinning, but I think I’m fine!”

“What about me, I’m not fine!” Whirl cried woefully. Cyclonus ignored him.

Cyclonus’s gaze fell on the pistol at Tailgate’s feet. “Did you cause that explosion?” He asked insistently.

“Well it wasn’t either of you, was it?” He replied, voice still rough. “I had no choice, he was going to kill us!”

“You just killed your own kind. Those were Autobots, they were trying to help you.” Tailgate scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m not as stupid as I look, okay? Just because somebody wears the same emblem as me doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat. I did what I had to, those guys were crazy!”

Cyclonus didn’t respond, instead staring appraisingly. Finally his gaze snapped down to the red cord trailing on the ground.

“We should take that off I suppose. It’s more of a liability than anything.”

“You think!?” Tailgate croaked. “Take it off, by all means!”

Cyclonus leaned down to undo the knots in the rope when all of a sudden Tailgate grabbed his face, smashing his hollow cheeks between his hands. They stared into each other’s eyes in shock for a long moment before:

“Your face looks horrible!” Tailgate exclaimed. The glare Cyclonus leveled at him was lethal. “No, not like that!” He clarified. “You must have gotten hit earlier, there’s energon everywhere.”

Cyclonus swiped his fingers across his face and glanced down. Indeed, his hand was now covered in thick smears of glowing pink liquid. He grunted noncommittally.

“It’s not bad.”

“’Not bad’, your nose is about to fall off!” Tailgate squawked and started rooting around in his subspace. “I have just the thing. Here, lean down!”

Knowing better than to argue with Tailgate on petty matters by now, Cyclonus begrudgingly dropped into an awkward squat so Tailgate could stand on his tiptoes and reach up to slap an adhesive onto the bridge of Cyclonus’s face.

“There. As good as any professional!” Tailgate exclaimed, looking awfully proud of himself for somebody who had essentially just applied a sticker.

It was at that moment that Whirl decided to finally gather himself off the ground and come reconvene with them. He took one look at Cyclonus and burst out into hysterical laughter. Cyclonus frowned and opted simply to ignore Whirl, stomping away as intimidatingly as somebody with a pink heart-print bandage on their face could manage.

A few minutes later they were back on their way as if nothing had happened. It was difficult to gauge the passage of time in the cold vacuum of space but by their internal chronometers’ estimate it had to have been almost a full day since they left Earth. It would be necessary to stop and recharge soon. Cyclonus relayed this to Whirl who agreed and the two started keeping an eye out for some kind of structure they could take shelter on.

By the time something suitable appeared on their route Cyclonus was just about ready to give up and recharge mid-air. The dwarf planet they’d sighted was still a few hours away too. By the time they got there they’d practically be dropping out of the sky.

“Don’t fall asleep on me!” Tailgate yelled from his cabin. “I don’t want to go drifting into a black hole!”

“Big words from the passenger princess.” Cyclonus muttered. “You’re not the one whose been flying non-stop.”

“Yeah well you’re not the one who got spun like pizza dough. I think my fluids got separated!”

“I don’t want to know about your fluids.” Despite the attempts at quipping all the bite had vanished from his voice, replaced by heavy exhaustion.

Tailgate seemed to think for a moment.

“Would it help you stay awake if I sang for you?” He asked.

“Why the hell would that help me stay awake!?”

“I’ve been told I have a very grating voice. But I’ve been practicing! It’s not that bad anymore!”

Cyclonus was going to refuse him outright but then he paused. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. Perhaps some distant memory that refused to be completely buried with the others. ‘When was the last time I heard anybody sing?’ Before he could even comprehend what he was saying he had incredulously agreed to Tailgate’s offer.

It was in fact grating. It was so terrible Cyclonus had thought Tailgate was having some kind of horrible malfunction at first. When he realized what it was though, he found himself not minding it so much. Horrible yes, but it did its job. He was able to stay awake until they landed on the dwarf planet for a break.

Although the planet was the best they could find on short notice, it still wasn’t exactly ideal, as Whirl made very clear with his dramatic shivering and exclamations of ‘BRRR’ as they trekked into the blizzard that seemed to permanently cover the entire surface of the planet. Cyclonus’s foot slipped on a patch of ice and he cursed. He would have fallen if not for Tailgate who had been shamelessly using him as a wind break grabbing his leg and pulling him back upright. He’d realized this earlier during the fight, but Tailgate was shockingly strong for his size.

After what felt like an eternity of searching the group finally came upon a suitable group of iced over rock outcroppings. It was still damp and uncomfortable but it was sheltered from the wind and wasn’t in active risk of toppling over onto them. It would have to do.

Cyclonus felt his joints creaking with the cold as he settled himself down onto the rough icy ground and he winced. He’d barely been sat for a second when Tailgate hopped into his lap like he owned it.

“What. Are you doing?” He gritted out.

“It’s cold!” Was all Tailgate said in his defense.

“He’s right!” Whirl sniveled while trying to slither in to lean against Cyclonus’s side. The audacity of the two was unbelievable.

“And who gave you permission to use me as a space heater!?”

“Aw come on, its not like you’re not freezing your aft off too.” Whirl argued. “What’s one night of shared warmth between buddies?”

“We are not buddies.” Cyclonus seethed. “When all this is over I will kill you on sight if I ever meet you or any of your Autobot allies again!”

“What is this anyway?” Tailgate asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. “I know what Galvatron wants from me but what do you have to do with all of this? You hate Galvatron, you hate the Autobots, whose side are you even on here!?” Rather than giving a proper answer Whirl just snorted.

“Mr. dark and brooding over here just wants Autobots to stop showing up at his miserable little house.”

Tailgate turned an unimpressed gaze on Cyclonus.

“That’s it? Really? You’re selling me like meat because there’s some kids on your lawn?”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand.” Cyclonus spat. “Not an Autobot. Not somebody on the ‘winning team’.”

“Buddy, you aren’t even on the losing team!” Whirl chimed in unhelpfully. “What’s the point of deserting the Decepticons if you’re just gonna hide in some corner of the galaxy by yourself!?”

“It’s none of your business! I happen to like being alone, its what suits me best.”

“Whatever. Why do I even bother. You two keep the chatting to a minimum, Papa needs some shut-eye.” Said Whirl before curling up like some kind of huge hideous centipede and powering down.

“Goodnight, Papa.” Cyclonus huffed.

Cyclonus sat motionless for several minutes but despite his earlier exhaustion sleep evaded him. His nerves still prickled with irritation from the earlier conversation.

“Why do you want to live alone?” Came a voice from his lap. Cyclonus jumped, rattling some icicles from their place on the ceiling. They crashed into a dozen pieces on the ground nearby.

“I thought you were recharging…”

“Not with you stewing over my head like that.” Tailgate huffed and squinted at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Yeah that’s kinda what I figured. So what’s the deal?” Cyclonus groaned. “C’mon, converse a little!”

“Stop pretending we’re friends.”

“Have you ever had friends before? Because you’re like really bad at it, I’m doing my best here.”

Just for a moment, faces flashed before Cyclonus’s mind. Hands reaching out to him as if to offer salvation, only to find himself dangling from a cliff with nothing else to hold onto. He shook his head harshly and the image vanished.

“I don’t want to make friends.” He insisted.

“You’ve made that obvious, but you still won’t say why!” Tailgate insisted right back.

“It’s not-” his voice cracked. “I can’t anymore. I’m too different.”

“From what?”

“Everything. Myself. Everybody else. Everything’s wrong, everything’s gone. I’m just waiting my turn to follow suit.”

In a rare moment of peace Tailgate had nothing to say in retort. It was short lived.

“So what? I’d rather have somebody than nobody even if it’s the wrong somebody or I’m the wrong me. And you know what, I don’t think you’re as unlikable as you think.”

Cyclonus’s brow twitched. What was he going on about now?

“You can’t just spend all your time stuck in the past. It won’t be worth it when you die alone.” Tailgate said quietly, and something about it rubbed Cyclonus the wrong way. “You shouldn’t die alone, Cyclonus. I’m sorry you were hurt but you have to keep trying.”

“If you’re so concerned about it, then you can be there when I die.” It was a little late for that. “And you can see first hand how little of a difference it makes.”

“Only if you return the favor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t both see each other die.” But rather than giving another reply Tailgate let out a loud snore. Cyclonus looked down in mild amusement. He shut himself off in the middle of a conversation, the rude little bugger. Cyclonus curled up tighter, shielding himself and, by consequence Tailgate as well, from the frigid air. He also subtly shoved Whirl a little further away, making him grumble in his sleep.

Luckily the next few days passed without major incident, barring the time Cyclonus had caught his reflection by accident. He’d ripped off the bandage with such force that some of his plating came with it. He had then proceeded to chase down Tailgate and shake him so violently that his gyro-stabilizers started sparking. Which of course then they then had to stop and fix.

Other than that time passed in a suspiciously peaceful manner. Whirl continued being himself unfortunately, and Cyclonus was slowly starting to find Tailgate more and more tolerable. Also unfortunately. It was obvious when his wild stories were fabricated but he was starting to find himself amused by the minibot’s creativity. Still, it made him wonder. Where had Tailgate come from? Cyclonus had practically poured his heart out by accident before, but he really didn’t know anything about the minibot’s past or circumstances. It occurred to him all of a sudden that he wasn’t really sure why he cared.

“I bet we’ll make it back to Cybertron within the next two days!” Whirl exclaimed happily.

For some unidentifiable reason Cyclonus felt a sinking dread in his chest at the words.

A few hours later they settled at another stop over point for a recharge cycle. The trio sat in a circle sipping their energon with grim expressions on two thirds of their faces. Cyclonus tried to prolong the activity as much as possible, but inevitably he looked down and his canister was empty. Sighing he pushed himself up off the ground.

“Come on.” He grunted at Tailgate who had also finished and was now making obnoxious slurping noises with his straw as he tried to get the last few drops.

Tailgate obediently got up to follow him over to a flat piece of rock. Whirl whistled at them.

“Have fun canoodling! I’ll be over here, enjoying my personal space!” Cyclonus bared his teeth and snorted, but gave no retort. This had been their reluctant compromise ever since taking off Tailgate’s leash. He still couldn’t really be trusted so Cyclonus insisted on spending every recharge cycle with his arms wrapped around the tiny mech so he couldn’t sneak off without waking Cyclonus.

It was kind of awkward to say the least, but it had worked so well that first night that it was hard not to justify. But as Cyclonus settled down and waited for Tailgate to scooch in close as he did every night he suddenly wondered if he would miss the feeling of warmth against his chest once it was gone.

He shook his head to clear his mind of such conflictingfeelings. After ensuring that Tailgate’s imprisonment was secure, Cyclonus allowed himself to shut down.

A few hours later Tailgate awoke with a jolt. His throat felt like it was on fire and his vents ached with the need to expel something. As quietly as possible he struggled against Cyclonus’s grip, trying desperately to hold back his shuddering simultaneously. Cyclonus grumbled in his sleep and his grip on Tailgate tightened. He froze, thinking he’d been caught for sure. But then Cyclonus just mumbled something incoherently and pulled Tailgate back in towards himself.

Tailgate forcefully suppressed another spasm and once again tried to extricate himself. He had more success this time, and in a few moments he was free and scrambling away from a none-the-wiser Cyclonus.

He dragged himself as far as he could possibly manage before he couldn’t stand it anymore and started heaving violently onto the rocks. He tried to keep his coughs quiet, but there was little he could do when he was hacking up globs of dull grimy energon with every painful vent.

The attack continued for nearly a cycle. Tailgate barely got a single break and a few times he was pretty sure that this was it. He’d been expecting it for a while, but Primus he’d made it so far! Why now?

He was just getting to a point where he thought he might be able to breathe again without coughing up one of his fans, when a clawed hand landed on his shoulder.

Tailgate whipped around and was met face to face with Whirl, his one glowing eye narrowed in accusation.

“And how long has this been going on?” He said, voice indiscernible. He took a vent in, ready to lie his aft off, when he realized that there really wasn’t a way out of this. The evidence was splattered all over him. He’d made so much noise, surely the whole camp was awake by now.

“It’s… Not as bad as it looks.” He said shakily.

“How long?” Whirl insisted. Tailgate looked at the ground in shame.

“Since before I ran from Galvatron.” Whirl put his hands on his hips and sighed. “There’s nothing I can do about it. They said it’s fatal.”

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“What difference would it make? You still would have dragged me away.”

“We could have figured something else out, Cyclonus isn’t stupid, this completely ruins our plan.”

Tailgate wiped at his face as he pondered for a moment.

“Don’t you worry about that, I have my own plan.”

Whirl narrowed his optic. “And what would that entail?”

“I’m going to kill Galvatron!” Tailgate declared, puffing up with confidence he hadn’t earned.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. How do you intend to do that? Coughing on him?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet, but if there’s one last thing I do on this mortal coil it’s going to be something useful!”

“It’s suicide.”

“That implies I would live otherwise.” Tailgate said blankly.

Whirl was silent. This was insane. Delusional! He’d known Tailgate was an odd one but this kind of behavior was something he’d only seen before in narcissists of the highest order, in people who craved attention so desperately that admiration and love were interchangeable to them. But Tailgate didn’t understand that he wasn’t going to be a martyr, he was just going to end up as a casualty! Wasting the last moments he had on a futile act of heroism, when he should have been spending it with people who actually cared, whether they liked to admit it or not. Bots bigger and stronger than Tailgate had tried to end Galvatron before and they had been torn to pieces.

“Cyclonus won’t like this when he finds out.”

“Cyclonus isn’t going to find out.” Tailgate insisted, visor sparking with conviction. “He doesn’t need that slag on top of everything else. Tell him- Tell him I escaped or something! When I’m gone I mean. Tell him that I ran away and that I’m never coming back and he doesn’t have to worry about this whole thing.” His voice had started shaking towards the end so he abruptly shut up, swallowing the remains of dead energon down his throat. “And if that doesn’t work then tell him its not his fault.”

“Tell him yourself.” Whirl sighed. “And you’d better clean yourself up and get back before he wakes up and finds you gone.”

Tailgate looked down at himself splattered in his own drying energon and realized he did look rather conspicuous. After taking a moment to wipe himself down to the best of his ability he tiptoed back to the camp, past Whirl who gave him one last glare before laying down to shut off again. Cyclonus was where he’d left him, sleeping deeply. So much for waking up if Tailgate tried to escape.

Carefully Tailgate wriggled back into the empty loop of Cyclonus’s arms. Cyclonus growled in his sleep and rolled over, tightening his grip around Tailgate and curling around him protectively. ‘Saying goodbye is going to be hard.’ Tailgate thought before finally letting himself power down.

---

Cyclonus woke the next morning with nothing but dread in his heart. Today was the day they were slated to return to Cybertron. Then this whole irritating quest would be over and he could go back to his regular life. His regular cold, lonely, smelly sulfurous life.

Tailgate woke up a few moments later and seemed to be in a similarly foul mood. He didn’t even perform his usual morning routine of annoying the hell out of Cyclonus. Just lay there sluggishly while his programs came online and lights flickered behind his visor.

Leaving him to whatever his problem was, Cyclonus trudged over to Whirl and kicked him hard.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” He said, and walked away before Whirl could reply.

Cyclonus walked back over to Tailgate and picked him up like a ragdoll. Cyclonus frowned at the minibot’s continued inactivity.

“You’d better not be having second thoughts now that we’re right at the finish line. You started all this remember!”

“I know, I know.” Tailgate replied hoarsely, still hanging limp in Cyclonus’s grasp. “Just give me a minute, I’m tired.”

“Unbelievable.” Cyclonus muttered. Ignoring the exasperated look Whirl was giving them, he transformed into his alt mode and took off, course set for their final destination.

By the time the Nemesis appeared on the horizon, looming like some kind of great doomsday beast, Tailgate had mostly returned to his regular self, though the misery in his posture never quite managed to dissipate.

As Cyclonus led his ragtag group down a winding corridor, consumed by his thoughts, he swore he saw the floors stretching, hallways becoming infinitely longer and twisting this way and that, up and down, spiraling forever.

He was shaken from the illusion by something tugging at the armored plating skirting his waist. He looked down to see Tailgate staring nervously in front of them. Following his gaze he was met with a familiar set of grand double doors. It seemed they had reached their destination.

“Look maybe…” Tailgate’s voice shook slightly as he spoke. “Maybe there’s a better way to do this so we all get what we want.”

“Surely you haven’t lost your spine all of a sudden? What happened to all that bravado?” Cyclonus sneered. He half expected Whirl to back him up with a quip of his own, but the helicopter just stared silently.

“That’s not it!” Tailgate protested. “But this doesn’t make any sense what we’re doing! I don’t want to go back, I don’t even know why Whirl is here, and surely you realize that there’s never been any guarantee that Galvatron will keep his word to you! Nobody is benefiting from this!”

Tailgate’s voice rose gradually as his desperation mounted, and for a single, fleeting second; Cyclonus almost considered turning around and marching back the way they’d come.

“Why do you even want your regular life back, it’s obvious you hate it!”

And then he didn’t.

“You.” Cyclonus jabbed a sharp finger into Tailgate’s face. “Don’t know anything about me. I’ve made my choices for reasons you don’t know and couldn’t possibly understand. Everything was going perfectly fine for me until you-” Another hard poke made Tailgate stumble back. “-had to muck everything up for everybody with your stupid game of make-believe! It’s too late to turn back now so do us both a favor and stop pretending that either of us ever knew or cared about each other!”

Huffing he stood up and flung the double doors open, not bothering to stop and gauge any reaction to his tirade. Behind him Tailgate followed silently, head bowed.

Galvatron sat on his morbid throne, face as impassively vengeful as ever until he looked down upon the group and grinned.

“My love!” He cried, pushing off from his seat and taking long strides towards them. “At last you have been returned to my side.” He said, glee evident in his face and voice.

“Um.” Whirl said hesitatantly, looking down at his own clawsbeing gripped by Galvatron. “I’m one of the ones you sent on the quest?”

Galvatron stared blankly for a long moment. He glanced at Cyclonus for a beat, but didn’t seem to be willing to consider any further. He then looked down and saw their third companion.

“I didn’t send you on a quest did I?”

“Uh, no.” Tailgate answered. Galvatron shoved Whirl away at record speed.

“Wonderful! My love, at last you have been returned to my side!” He exclaimed, glee returning as he bent over and snatched Tailgate off the ground, making him squeak awkwardly.

“So- so good to see you, dear.” Tailgate stuttered out before letting out a single weak cough. “Could you stop *cough* squeezing me so tight, perhaps?”

“Galvatron.” Cut in a deep furious voice. “We had a deal.” Cyclonus insisted. Galvatron glared at him.

“Yes yes, you’ll get your miserable privacy back. I’ll rescind the order for the Autobot hunt… for now…”

“Then I hope we never cross paths again.” It wasn’t clear who he was addressing. Without another word Cyclonus stormed back the way he’d come. Whirl gave one last exasperated glance to Tailgate before trotting after him, the door swinging shut slowly behind him.

“Come, princess, there are many things to plan before the wedding tomorrow.” Galvatron purred and started carrying Tailgate off towards a side door.

“T-tomorrow!?” Sparks sputtered out of Tailgate’s eyes as panic started rising. “But- but Galvy, surely that’s a little soon isn’t it!?”

Galvatron laughed. “There is no such thing as too soon when it comes to making my claim to Conquesta official. Now let’s see if we can get you some stilts or something for the ceremony.”

Tailgate’s mind whirled frantically as plans were formed and rejected faster than he had ever processed information before. His half-baked scheming was put to a stop when his face was squashed against a hard metal chest in some bizarre imitation of a hug. The grip was much rougher and squeezed tighter than he had become used to. As he suppressed another cough his vision was engulfed by his captor’s chassis and he couldn’t push down the passing thought that it was the wrong shade of purple.

The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife as Cyclonus stalked away from the nemesis towards the flight pads, Whirl trailing him several paces behind. Whirl fidgeted with his fingers, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the ship growing smaller in the distance.

“So uh-” He started awkwardly. “What now?” Cyclonus ignored him. “...You’re not really just going to go back to your planet are you?”

“I am.”

“What about Tailgate…?”

“What about him?” Whirl cringed.

“Nothing I guess.” Silence fell over the pair again. For the first time since the conversation started Cyclonus looked at Whirl.

“How long are you going to keep following me?”

“Thought I’d help you clear out your place. Finish what I promised, right?”

Abruptly Cyclonus stopped, making Whirl walk straight into his rigid back.

“I’ll manage.” He snapped. Without further warning he transformed into his alt mode and in the blink of an eye he was gone. Whirl stared after him glaring.

Cyclonus felt numb as he flew through the cold expanse of space back towards his isolated little planet. The only thing left in the universe that he could really call ‘his’. He expected to be faced with a horde of irritating Autobots in need of clearing out, but to his shock he landed only to find solitude. The news of the rescinded order must have spread already. How long had he been flying? Well this was exactly how he liked it. Quiet. The only other presence was the bubbling of sulfurous acid filling the pools surrounding him.

Belatedly he realized it had been days since he’d heard… well nothing. This entire ridiculous trip he’d had somebody yapping in his ear the whole way, singing ridiculous songs, making up stories, telling him pretty lies like… Like what? That he shouldn’t die alone? Ridiculous. Everybody was alone when they died. Cyclonus had been, and someday he would be again. Tailgate would be too. So would Whirl, and Galvatron, and every other bot in this godforsaken world. That was just how things were. To believe otherwise was nothing but a fantasy.

Cyclonus didn’t believe in fantasies anymore.

Slowly he trudged back to his hut, each step growing heavier and heavier as the weight of the past few days caught up to him. As he reached the threshold and opened the door his knees gave out under him. He was so tired. Sluggishly he dragged himself to his berth and slung himself across it. A chill ran through his chest as he touched the cold metal and his arms acted out of habit, moving up to wrap around… something. Before realizing they were empty and dropping back to his sides. He barely even bothered to find a comfortable position before slipping into recharge.

While Cyclonus slept, the world kept moving around him. Back at the Nemesis the world was moving quite chaotically in fact. The wedding announcement had been a shock to all, and when the Decepticons heard that the preparation deadline was less than twenty four hours the shock quickly turned to horror, leading to the current state of utter anarchy. Cannons were hastily unloaded and stuffed with confetti, banners were nailed to the walls with whatever sharp objects could be found, tables were painted, blocks of energon were frosted hastily. In the middle of it all Tailgate stood shell shocked. He’d been ushered to a private room earlier where a traitorous Octane had unceremoniously tried to stuff him into some kind of lacy white prison covered in frills.

“I’ve seen humans doing this!” He insisted before Tailgate ripped off the fabric and bolted out the door, spark pulsing wildly.

If time was short for the Decepticons then it was even less for him. He had less than twenty four hours to assassinate Galvatron. If he could last that long… Plans whirled through his processor faster than ever before. None of them seemed likely to succeed.

Unfortunately, right now Tailgate had nothing to lose. So regardless of sense, he too started preparing his ‘decorations’. It was during these preparations that he failed to notice Galvatron walking up right behind him.

“DARLING!” He yelled, nearly spooking Tailgate straight out of his plating. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He said at a still unbearable volume. “I was beginning to worry that you may have run away.”

Galvatron’s eyes flashed knowingly and Tailgate swallowed nervously.

“I just wanted to help with the preparations.” He said in a voice more confident than he felt right now. “Did you need me for something?”

“Why of course.” Galvatron hissed. “Apparently we need something called a ‘cake’ for this to be official, and we are both required to ‘taste test’ it before it’s made. Come along now!” Once again Galvatron yanked Tailgate off the ground without warning and stuffed him under his arm.

“C-can you give me a little time?” Tailgate protested. “I was in the middle of somethin-”

“QUIET.” Galvatron shouted, and the whole room seemed to dim. Tailgate promptly shut up and allowed himself to be carried off Primus knows where. Galvatron didn’t speak to him again and Tailgate was in no rush to break the silence so an awkward lull fell over them as they stomped down corridors to what must have become an impromptu kitchen.

“My liege.” Longhaul greeted. He seemed to have appointed himself to baking duty somehow. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival. I have drawn from the vast wealth of knowledge the humans refer to as a ‘recipe blog’ and selected several varieties of traditional matrimony pastry for you to sample.”

“This is a waste of time!” Galvatron spat. “What do human traditions have to do with anything!?”

“Please, my liege.” Longhaul visibly wilted. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to channel my talents into anything other than moving building materials. I promise you’ll like it. Give it a chance?” His voice ratcheted up with desperation. “Please!?” Galvatron grumbled but seemed to acquiesce in the end in a rare display of deference. “Thank you, my liege!” Longhaul exclaimed and hastily held out two plates with some kind of… concoction laying on top.

Galvatron grimaced but took a bite anyways. His eyebrows shot up and he hummed non specifically. Tailgate too took a nibble off his plate but couldn’t taste anything. His gaze flitted around the room, searching desperately for anything that could be of use to him. His eyes landed on an antique thermometer that Longhaul must have have been using to bake.

As quietly as he could Tailgate reached out and took the thermometer, hiding it in his grasp. He glanced up at Galvatron and Longhaul, both of them still preoccupied with their ‘cake’.

“Do you like it, my liege?” Longhaul asked desperately.

“SILENCE!” Galvatron roared as he stuffed the rest of the slice into his face.

Quick as lightning, Tailgate reached out towards the second plate of samples and in one motion snapped the thermometer in half, spilling liquid mercury all over the plate. He crumbled in some broken glass for good measure before returning to his previous posture and glancing back up.

“My liege, please. There’s still more samples, you don’t have to eat the entire-”

“I thought I told you to SHUT UP!”

Good, he hadn’t been noticed. Finally Longhaul managed to get them to move forwards and handed both of them the next set of plates to try. Tailgate held his breath as Galvatron put the poisoned cake into his mouth and… Nothing happened.

“This one SUCKS!” He exclaimed before finishing the piece anyway, crunching shards of glass between his teeth. No signs of imminent death. No writhing in agony. Tailgate wilted in disappointment and finished his cake.

The tasting went of for far longer than necessary, mostly because Galvatron insisted on finishing off all of the samples available.

Eventually the ordeal ended and Tailgate was left utterly drained of hope. That was when he happened to look across the room, gaze landing on a large plate-metal frame in some sort of multi-tiered structure.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing at the structure. Longhaul followed his finger and lit up in recognition.

“That’s the base for the finished cake!” He exclaimed happily.

“IT’S GOING TO BE HOLLOW!?” Galvatron spewed incredulously.

“Of course!” Longhaul nodded, not at all sensing his boss’s displeasure. “None of us eat organic food after all! It’s really just for decoration.”

The explanation enraged Galvatron beyond reason and suddenly Longhaul was on the ground being pummeled for his insolence. Beyond the shouts of “THEN WHY DID YOU WASTE MY TIME-” Tailgate stared at the frame, mind racing. He glanced at the mechs brawling behind him. Neither were paying him any heed. Quietly he rifled around in his subspace, searching for something that in retrospect he couldn’t believe he had forgotten he had. Beyond all the snacks and random junk he had jostling around in there, he finally managed to find what he was looking for and pulled it out. In his hand he held the human explosive he had taken from the museum along with all the other strange and pretty things he’d found interesting. The plaque he’d found it behind had said it was from something called ‘World War II’. Primitive and tiny though it was, he was sure he could rig it up with some kind of timer and amplifier if given the chance.

He glanced behind himself again where Longhaul was currently having his arms separated from his body and used to beat himself with. It seemed a chance was what he was getting after all.

Cyclonus didn’t dream that night. He never did. And was always grateful for it. Despite this he found himself quite irritated when he was pulled out of his recharge by a fervent pounding on his front door. At first he thought about trying to ignore it. When several moments passed and the pounding had not only not subsided, but had grown more frantic and been joined by an irritatingly familiar voice shouting obscenities, he finally resolved to cut his losses.

Cyclonus’s joints creaked with sleep as he powered on fully and dragged himself off his berth. Stomping towards the door he flung it open with force and was faced with exactly what he had both expected and dreaded to see.

“Did I somehow imply I wanted to see you again?” Cyclonus spat with venom that surprised even himself. Whirl stood outside his door, arms crossed as he glared with equal vitriol.

“No you made yourself quite clear.”

“Then why.” Cyclonus grit out. His hands were washed of this incident. He didn’t want to see Whirl ever again, nor anybody else for that matter. Whirl didn’t seem to agree with him.

“I think you know why.” He accused with no elaboration.

Cyclonus stared, un-amused.

“Get the hell off my planet before I blow you to smithereens.” He said simply. Whirl didn’t budge.

“Go get Tailgate.”

“No.”

Whirl stomped his foot as if throwing a tantrum would help his case.

“You have to!”

“I’m quite certain I don’t.” He said simply.

“You’re acting like a sparkling, Cyclonus!”

“I’m not the one whining to try and get what I want! If it’s so important to you then you go get him, I have no stake in the matter anymore!”

“He doesn’t want me, he wants you!” Cyclonus actually laughed at that.

“How did you manage to come to that conclusion!? He hates me and trust me when I say that the feeling is mutual.”

“You don’t hate him, you’re just mad because he was right!” Whirl huffed. “How can you possibly claim to like your life? Your pathetic, miserable, lonely life that somebody tried to change for you and all you did was push him away!”

Cyclonus leaned forward, putting his and Whirl’s faces nose to… eye. His next words were enunciated very carefully.

“You do not speak for me, or Tailgate for that matter. That pipsqueak is where he should be and so am I.”

“Galvatron is not where he should be.” Whirl insisted.

“That’s his problem. He can take care of himself, I’m sure.”

“No, he can’t.”

Cyclonus narrowed his optics suspiciously.

“Oh? He escaped once didn’t he? I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s about as hard to pin down as an eel.”

“He needs help!” Whirl spat stubbornly. Cyclonus stared, expressionless.

“You say that as if you know something I don’t.”

That had done it. Whirl clammed up immediately, an awkward posture overtaking his previous gung-ho. Cyclonus straightened up, convinced he had won this battle.

“You have until I get back inside to get out of here and never show your face to me again.”

But just before he slammed the door shut Whirl shouted after him, equal parts annoyance and desperation in his voice.

“He cared about you. Doesn’t that mean anything!?” Cyclonus shut the door.

It wasn’t until the silence outside gave way to the fading sound of helicopter blades that he allowed himself to take a large vent in. It didn’t mean anything. It never had before and it never would again. The more he tried to convince himself of that the more he felt the numbness sink in.

The truth was, Cyclonus had been a normal person once. He had people he loved and causes he cared about. Time and misery and death had stripped away all he used to be, but sometimes pieces clung to him like rust to an empty husk. Each time he tried to chip them away they took a piece of himself with them, as inseparable as they were painful. He’d long accepted that the rot was permanent, but for a while when he was with Tailgate, as ridiculous as it seemed, as short a time as it had been, there were moments when he almost felt new again. He couldn’t look that feeling in the face before. He had been too scared to find out what it was.

Now he didn’t have much choice. ‘He cared about you’. That did mean something, even if he didn’t want it to.

Heaving a massive and very frustrated sigh, Cyclonus grabbed his sword leaning against the wall and stomped back outside. He was just about to transform and set off when a voice from behind him made him jump.

“I knew it.” Whirl said smugly.

“I thought you left!”

“How very gullible you are! Come on, let’s go!” Whirl chirped before transforming and taking off - for real this time apparently.

A day. An entire day, and Tailgate hadn’t managed to accomplish anything. It was all up to his preparations now. If they failed then he was screwed. He would have set up more, but he’d had another coughing fit halfway through the whole ordeal, even worse than the last one, and it had taken all he had to make sure nobody saw or heard him. He’d barely been able to recover before being dragged off and plopped on top of an altar before dozens of Decepticons to await his dreaded groom.

“Hold this.” Somebody said as they shoved a handful of wilting plants tied together with a frayed piece of rope into his hands.

As Galvatron ascended to the altar one of the steps below his foot clicked ominously. Suddenly the stairs exploded into a fiery barrage of scrap, smoke billowing out. The room was silent for a long moment as Tailgate held his breath. Then a beat later Galvatron walked out of the smoke as if nothing had happened. The audience clapped politely but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the event. Tailgate swore under his breath.

Galvatron reached the top of the steps and glowered down at Tailgate, his face irate.

“Where’s the thing!?” He snapped at Scourge who was waiting next to them holding some kind of fancy book. He mumbled an apology before rummaging through a large trunk sitting next to him and pulling out a tall bar stool. Galvatron grabbed it from him without any thanks and set it in front of himself before picking up Tailgate by the head and plopping him on top of the stool.

Before Tailgate could react Galvatron’s large rough hands had clamped around his own while Scourge ironically rambled on about sickness and health. As the lengthy speech ended the Decepticons erupted into wild cheers, just loud enough to mask the sound of a pulley system setting off a blaster hidden behind one of the wall hangings. The blast flew towards Galvatron but ricocheted off of his thick skull, bouncing away to sear a hole into the opposite wall.

‘Slag.’ Thought Tailgate.

“You may now put your intake on your spouse.” Declared Scourge, and to Tailgate’s horror Galvatron started leaning towards him. Instinctively Tailgate began leaning backwards, nearly losing his balance and falling off of his stool just as an over-sized axe swung past where Galvatron’s head had been mere seconds before.

‘Damn it!’ Thought Tailgate. The distraction threw him off guard and in that moment Galvatron pressed their faces together in some kind of putrid imitation of intimacy. Tailgate spooked dramatically and his visor started sparking. He was one twitch away from smashing his fist into Galvatron’s face when the horrid experience ended.

Galvatron pulled away and wiped his mouth in disdain before turning to the audience.

“CONQUESTA IS NOW MINE!” He roared, raising a fist in triumph. “HAIL GALVATRON!”

The Decepticons in the crowd raised their hands in salute as they returned the cry.

“Hail Galvatron!” Rang a chorus of voices.

Wasting no time, Galvatron began descending the stairs.

“Sir,” Scourge started hesitantly. “How shall we deal with the princess- er, queen?”

“I don’t CARE.” Galvatron answered. “Don’t we have a KENNEL or something? Put her in THAT!”

“H-honey!” Tailgate called after him, still trembling from the trauma of being kissed by Galvatron. “D-don’t you want to have some cake before you go?” Galvatron paused for a moment.

He turned and opened his mouth to speak.

At that exact moment the huge window behind Tailgate exploded into a thousand pieces.

‘I don’t remember setting that up.’ he thought absently as shards of stained glass rained down around him like hailstones.

“Galvatron!” A furious voice cut through the tinkling of falling fragments and Cyclonus landed on the ground with force, his momentum sending him sliding across the altar, coming to a stop next to Tailgate. He flicked his optics towards the minibot for just a moment before returning his attention to the threat at the bottom of the stairs.

Galvatron glowered, gaze filling with hatred.

“What? WHAT!? WHAT IS IT!? DIDN’T YOU GET WHAT YOU WANTED!? YOU DARE INTERRUPT MY CEREMONY!??”

Cyclonus’s gaze flicked back to Tailgate for just another moment. He grit his teeth.

“No…” He said, voice too low to really be audible across the room. “No!” He said again, louder as if he was announcing it to himself as well as everybody nearby. “I didn’t get what I want!” He spat. The edge of his blade gleamed with an ominous light as he trained it on Galvatron. “I’ve come to correct that.”

“What the hell are you RAMBLING ABOUT!?” Galvatron cried, and Tailgate had to admit that his spark was pounding as he too tried to figure that out. His first thought was that Cyclonus had decided he wanted revenge on Galvatron after all. His second thought was too hopelessly optimistic to put to words.

The time for conversation had ended it seemed, as Cyclonus shot across the room like a bullet, and slammed into Galvatron. All hell broke loose, Decepticons screaming, some jumping in to assist their leader, others hightailing it out of there. Metal screeched, sparks flew, energon splattered across the floor and walls as the battle heated up at a startling speed.

“Cyclonus!” Tailgate cried, finally breaking out of his stupor. ‘He’s going to get mauled!’ he thought, and threw himself forwards to join the fray. He was thwarted completely when a large clawed foot slammed into his back, pinning him to the floor. Tailgate coughed weakly and started struggling against his captor, spitting curses and scratching at the foot to the best of his ability.

“Leave it!” Whirl’s voice chided from above him. Tailgate froze and looked up sideways at the helicopter who was currently stepping on him.

“I have to help!” He protested but Whirl only shook his head.

“Don’t, you’ll get killed and this will all be pointless. Besides,” Whirl motioned his head towards Cyclonus, locked in battle below them. He was covered in energon, pieces were cracking off of him, and he looked like a furious specter of death in his intensity. “He’s gotthings to prove.”

Despite Cyclonus’s initial gumption the fact of the matter was that he was weaker than Galvatron, and after an especially aggressive exchanging of blows he found himself smashing into a wall with so much force that his programs crashed for a moment. His trusted blade was reduced to little more than scrap metal, snapped in half and crushed underfoot at some point during the struggle.

“This is PATHETIC!” Galvatron laughed. “Cyclonus, I expectmore from you afterall this timeapart! To think you would fall so low…” Galvatron’s crimson gaze suddenly swiveled around and locked onto Tailgate still pinned to the ground. “AND YOU…” He stalked forwards like a predator. “You planned this didn’t you!? Don’t think I didn’t notice your pitiful littleattempts today! Barely married and already trying to become a widow!? LAUGHABLE!”

Tailgate struggled against Whirl’s foot, trying to break free but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, fight or flee. Panic coursed through his body like volts of electricity, his visor sparked wildly, and his venting sped up. He could feel the strain on his systems breaking something inside of him but ignored it in favor of pure terror. Suddenly the pressure pinning him was gone and Whirl was launching himself at Galvatron in some kind of poorly thought out attack.

“This is not how I hoped this would go!” He yelled miserably, training his guns on the enemy. He didn’t even get a chance to fire before Galvatron grabbed one of his lanky legs and swung him like a toy, tossing him out the broken window to plummet to the ground below.

“I should have just taken your planet by force.” He said with venom as he advanced on Tailgate, who was still uselessly seizing with panic. The huge mech grabbed him by the neck and hauled him into the air with ease, his other arm aiming his dreaded fusion cannon directly at Tailgate’s face. As the heat of the charging plasma began licking against Tailgate like death incarnate he was all at once overcome with rage.

Why should he have to waste his life for this sick freak? If he was going to die in the most humiliating painful way possible he may as well get a final bite of victory.

“There is no planet!” He yelled, smug satisfaction thick in his voice. Galvatron froze. Even his cannon stopped charging.

“What?” He said. “WHAT!??” the rage coming off of him was practically tangible but it was too late to back out now.

“I’m not a princess, I never was. There is no Conquesta, no armies, nothing for you to rule! I made it all up and you believed me because you. Are. An. Idiot!!!”

Galvatron screamed in fury, a horrible piercing sound that was rivaled only by the sickening crunch of Tailgate’s face being smashed against the ground. Galvatron pulled his fist back and slammed the minibot into the floor again and again, so violently that the tile was being shattered like brittle crackers.

‘maybe this wasn’t worth it after all.’ Tailgate thought as cracks spider-webbed across his visor, making his vision fizz into miscolored static.

“STOP!” screamed a desperate voice from across the room, but Cyclonus had been all but forgotten by his foe. He tried to get to his feet, but he’d sustained too much structural damage in the fight and his legs could no longer hold his weight for more than a few seconds. He looked around himself for something that he might be able to use. A fallen blaster, something to throw, something to help him walk, anything. His gaze fell on a large piece of colorful glass and he paused. It was a piece of the window he had jumped through earlier, but it wasn’t the shard that had caught his attention, it was his reflection. More specifically his horns. Well, one horn and one human-made sword that Tailgate had sloppily welded onto his head.

It was an insane idea, and he had no reason to assume it would ever work. Despite this, Cyclonus gripped the ‘horn’ in one hand, the razor sharp edges cutting through his alloy like butter and spilling energon down across the blade. With the force of a mech possessed he wrenched the damn thing off of his own head and it snapped off with a sickening crunch.

Logic having long since been abandoned, Cyclonus ignored the searing pain in his helm and with a furious scream he threw the sword with more force than he had ever used in his life. His aim was true and the sword struck Galvatron in the back, piercing straight through his chassis and lodging itself through him like a shish-kebab. Galvatron dropped Tailgate in a heap on the floor and stared down incredulously at the weapon sticking out of him.

“WHAT!?-” He cried, but got no further as at that exact moment he suddenly burst into flames. Galvatron screamed and writhed in agony, but the flames were too powerful and they only grew hotter and hotter, burning high until the leader of the Decepticons resembled little more than a smoldering bonfire. The few Decepticons that had not fled could do nothing but look on in horror. Cyclonus did much the same, having not at all expected anything to come from his final gambit.

Eventually the flames burned out and in their wake nothing was left of the warlord except a pile of ash and that accursed blade, sitting among the remnants of its destruction gleaming innocently as if nothing had happened.

A hollow silence fell over the room. Nobody dared breath. Nobody dared believe. The stillness was broken by a wet coughing. Cyclonus shook off his shock and began the arduous task of limping across the room on broken struts. He skirted around the fallen blade, staring at it skeptically before he fell to his knees beside Tailgate who was still crumpled on the floor, venting much too quickly as dead energon spluttered out of him with every ripping cough.

“I-it’s going to be alright.” Cyclonus said shakily, putting a hand on Tailgate’s back as he heaved and gasped. “Just- try not to move. I’m going to go… get help.” He said, and shakily stood on his damaged legs to go find… someone. He would figure it out when he got there. He was stopped by a startlingly strong grip around his ankle.

“Don’t.” Tailgate wheezed as he pulled on Cyclonus’s leg. “Don’t leave. I’m going to die, please don’t leave.”

“You aren’t going to die.” Cyclonus insisted but crouched back down anyway. “You’re hurt but we just need a medic to fix you, it’s fine. You’ll be fine.” He was convincing himself as much as he was Tailgate. Unfortunately the bot in question didn’t agree. He shook his head and suppressed another round of coughing.

“Not that. I’ve been dying. I’m sick.” He devolved into another coughing fit. Cyclonus stared, slack-jawed.

“Since when!?” He croaked. It took a moment for Tailgate to be able to answer, but when he did he sounded utterly hopeless.

“Before we met… It’s why I ran… No cure…”

“No cure…?” Cyclonus repeated numbly.

“Please stay.” Tailgate said again, and there was a deep sadness in his voice. “Cyclonus, please. You’re the first one. Ever since I lost… Everything… Everyone… I’ve been- I’ve been a joke! Maybe I was before that too... But you-” He broke into another coughing fit. “You treat me like I’m real. I didn’t realize how much I crave that. I need to be real. Please… Please stay, Cyclonus. Please take me seriously… just once…”

Cyclonus picked up Tailgate’s hand and squeezed it in his own but his mind was flooded with confusion.

“Don’t. Don’t say all that to me.” He shook his head. “No cure? Are you sure? What do you have?”

“I don’t know.” Tailgate admitted. “But, Knockout said-”

“Knockout!?” Cyclonus interrupted. There was an awkward beat of silence. Tailgate cleared his throat and tried again.

“Yes, Knockout. The Decepticon’s medic, he said-”

“’Knockout’ as in, the prime minister of drag racing?” Cyclonus interrupted again. More silence.

“...What?”

Cyclonus’s optics were practically bulging out of his head.

“He’s not a real doctor, Tailgate.”

“...What?”

The awkward atmosphere could have been cut with a knife. As if this conversation wasn’t strange enough, nearby a massive cake sitting on a table suddenly exploded, sending fiery shrapnel covered in frosting in every direction. Some of the shards embedded themselves in Cyclonus’s armor and he gawked at the flaming mess in bewilderment.

“...I was wondering when that was gonna go off...” Tailgate muttered ruefully.

“We’re getting a second opinion.” Cyclonus insisted, trying desperately to recompose himself. “Whirl!” He called out the broken window. “Whirl, hurry up!” A few moments later Whirl’s claws hooked onto the edge of the window frame and he hauled himself up, dripping wet and sporting a few new dents.

“Yeesh.” He said as he sized up Tailgate and Cyclonus. “Did you guys get put through a blender or what?”

“Tailgate needs a doctor, take him.” Cyclonus insisted.

“What, just him?” Whirl snipped, but he was already picking up Tailgate. He cringed at the amount of pieces falling off of him but swapped into helicopter mode anyway.

Cyclonus could barely walk but his wings were miraculously more or less intact so he wobbled after Whirl in jet-mode as best he could. Luckily as an official Autobot Whirl had connections with legitimate medics and in less than an hour the trio found themselves being attended to. The hospital staff had given Cyclonus weird looks and almost didn’t let him in, but Whirl had vouched loudly and aggressively until they conceded.

Tailgate was immediately placed in the ER while Cyclonus was reluctantly treated for his injuries and although Whirl wasn’t hurt badly he whined so loudly that he too ended up getting a touch up done. When Cyclonus was done being treated and subsequently kicked out of his room, he found himself loitering in the hallway outside of Tailgate’s room. Whirl came to find him and the two ended up waiting in begrudging silence.

“You knew?” Cyclonus finally said, cutting the tension.

“Kinda.” Whirl replied dully. “Before you say anything, he didn’t want me to tell you.” Cyclonus ground his teeth but didn’t respond.

Eventually the medic finally came out of the operating room. He gave the two standing outside strange looks.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“What’s up with the mini?” Whirl asked nonchalantly. Cyclonus had much more choice words at the moment but realized perhaps they were not entirely appropriate or helpful.

“Oh, you’re the ones who brought him in.” The medic realized. “Well we fixed the majority of the damage. Nothing important was missing and his optics weren’t totally destroyed so his self-repairs should be able to take care of the rest. He’ll be fine.”

“What about the illness?” Cyclonus hissed in frustration.

“What?” Said the medic looking genuinely confused. Cyclonus was about to throttle him before his face lit up like he had just remembered something. “Oh. Right, we noticed he had a pretty bad case of cyber-pneumonia. It’s pretty common and not usually a big deal but it was probably exacerbated by stress. We gave him some cyber-penicillin, it’ll clear up in about a week.”

“Can I see him?”

“Sure, why not.” The medic grunted before hustling away to his next patient.

As a mech who had weathered the horrors of war for millenia untold, it really shouldn’t have been so difficult for Cyclonus to walk through that simple door. And yet as he reached for the handle he found his hand to be shaking uncontrollably.

“Come on.” Whirl chided impatiently from behind him. Cyclonus scowled and pushed the door open.

Tailgate heard the door opening and looked up from his cup of medical-grade energon that he’d been sipping through a curly straw. They stared at each other for a long indecipherable moment.

“Hi.” Tailgate finally said lamely.

“Hello.” Cyclonus responded. Whirl huffed in disbelief.

“I changed my mind, I can’t take this.” He said before stomping off muttering something about a vending machine.

“So uh-” Tailgate tried awkwardly. “I guess I’m gonna live after all.”

“I heard.”

“Yeah I sort of- I guess I really overreacted to the whole thing. Sorry.” Cyclonus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How did you manage to come to the conclusion that you were dying? Surely even you must be able to see that Knockout isn’t exactly a reliable source of information.”

Tailgate looked away in embarrassment.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I started coughing up energon and I got scared and he was the only thing Galvatron had resembling a medic and… I don’t know, I didn’t question it.”

“Perhaps it was for the best in the end.” Cyclonus said solemnly. “Had events not played out as they had then Galvatron would not be dead now.”

“Oh yeah!” Tailgate brightened suddenly, visor blazing. “How did you do that!?”

“It was the sword, it must have been. For that matter, what the hell kind of cursed artifact did you weld to my head!?”

“I don’t know!” Tailgate threw up his hands in defense. “I thought it looked cool so I took it! I didn’t think it could do anything like that.”

“Surely there must have been some kind of indication??” Tailgate put a hand to his face and thought for a long moment.

“I remember the plaque saying it was made by some old human king who went insane one day out of the blue and became paranoid about winged metal giants powered by lightning attacking his kingdom. It was called Exca-something? The sign said it had magic powers but I didn’t honestly think that it was real.”

He had no logical reason to believe so, but for whatever reason Cyclonus couldn’t help but believe that somehow Starscream had something to do with this. If so, there was a poetic irony there. Perhaps Galvatron’s most hated enemy, crossing time and probability in the most inane way possible just so he could spite his beloathed master one last time.

Awkward silence fell over the pair once more.

“So what now?” Tailgate asked.

“I suppose it’s over.” Cyclonus replied.

“You’re going home?”

“What else. Do you… have somewhere to go?” Cyclonus asked tentatively. Tailgate visibly cringed.

“Listen, if this is about what I said before… I thought I was dying! I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t need to worry about any of that, I’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” A reply wasn’t needed though, for them to know the answer. “What if…” Cyclonus started. “What if you come with me?” Tailgate scrunched up his face.

“To your stinky sulfur planet?” He said with distaste. Cyclonus felt himself flushing with indignation as his fans sped up.

“I COULD!” He lowered his voice a notch. “I could move elsewhere. Somewhere better suited to- to you.”

“...You want that?”

“I do.” Cyclonus said and for the first time in this conversation there was no hesitation in his voice. “Tailgate I- I find you unique. You remind me of things that I thought I could never have again, but you also… You’re entirely new at the same time. If you…” And there was that trepidation again, back in full force. “If you… truly enjoy my company as you implied before I... would very much like for us to be… together…” There went the fans again.

Tailgate stared in disbelief and for a horrible moment Cyclonus thought he had misinterpreted this entire situation.

“Hey.” Tailgate finally said, breaking Cyclonus out of his swirling thoughts. “Come over here.” He demanded.

Unsure what was happening, Cyclonus shuffled over and stood next to the berth.

“No, down here!” Tailgate insisted and Cyclonus knelt down until they were at eye-level. Tailgate gripped the sides of Cyclonus’s face in both hands and stared into his optics for a long tense moment. Then without warning he pulled Cyclonus in and… Nuzzled against him like an affectionate house cat. “You’re so silly!” He exclaimed, voice more jubilant than Cyclonus had ever heard.

Cyclonus wasn’t really sure what he had done that was so amusing, but against his will happiness began bubbling up inside his spark. For the first time in millenia the metal plating of his face creaked with disuse as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

It turned out it wasn’t that difficult to find a nicer place to live after all. Seclusion was all Cyclonus desired out of a home and it seemed that wherever he chose to settle other beings were quick to disperse. Their new home was free of sulfur pools, but it still sported several mangled bodies on pikes to act as a warning to intruders. Tailgate had been… concerningly enthusiastic to contribute on that front. It was a stark contrast to the flowering meadows that surrounded their shack.

“Niiice.” Whirl whistled sarcastically as he leaned against a fence post with a Decepticon’s head speared on top of it. “I’m always amazed how welcome I feel here.” He said flatly.

“Intriguing considering nobody invited you.” Cyclonus deadpanned back.

“I wanted to check on my best friends!” Whirl said in mock offense.

“We are not friends.”

“Whatever. How’s settling down treating you?”

Cyclonus sighed, already accepting that he would not be able to get rid of Whirl in a timely manner.

“It’s good.” He said, surprisingly honestly. “It’s unsettling really. This sort of peace. It feels like a fairy tale.”

“You don’t seem like the fairy tale type.” Whirl jabbed.

“What can I say.” Cyclonus looked over his shoulder at Tailgate who was currently taking a break from whatever the hell he had been constructing in the back yard to harass the large winged insects inhabiting the flora. “I’m a believer.”