Forget Me Not: Part 2: Stars and Swords (Side2)
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Clench and Oval are waiting as well, in the corridor outside the laboratory. The orange Minicon is now bound with tight looking energo-shackles.
“Oh, Starscream.” The gruff leader’s tone is disdainful and dismissive. “We weren’t expecting you here.”
My confusion lasts only for a ‘second.
“You expected me to stay away while the great Megatron plays with his new toy?”
“Not really…you never could resist getting your faceplate rubbed in the dust.”
“Are you going to open that door or should I kick you through it?” I inquire sweetly.

As the thick panel slides back, Clench’s optics suddenly turn white. A burst of data assails my receiver.
Just get close to the Sabre. We’ll give you cover.
I brace myself and swagger into the main laboratory chamber.

The room is certainly long and high-roofed but it is difficult to see its shape due to the vast number of devices that have been stuffed into it. It was not cluttered or cramped, just full. I stride past stacks of machinery whose purpose I’m not even able to guess at. After a few dozen paces, it gives way to wider area centred on a thick transparent pipe that rises from the floor and meets with a complex web of tubes and girders that hangs from the ceiling.

Most of my attention is reserved for the mechs gathered around the pipe. The diminutive orderlies aside, there are six of them. Two are full size solid-light projections: a viridian giant with huge, scarred claws alongside a mech who looks extraordinary like me only in a drab grey and with a far larger crest. Scorponok and Thrust. The names come easily to me. Perched on a storage rack is a purple mech not much bigger than a Minicon, a pair of intricate wings folded behind his shoulders. Skyshadow. The two Decepticons closest to the pipe are blocky and heavily armed, both lacking facial features and one with a vast cannon for a left arm. Soundwave and Shockwave.

The final mech has his back to me. He is the tallest, with a broad, powerful frame, thick studded tank treads wound round his legs, massive armour plates coating his arms and shoulders. His name burns in my mind.

Megatron.


I walk straight to his side, ignoring the others’ assorted glares and mutters, moving as fast as I dare before my nerve wavers. He doesn’t acknowledge me. His armour, purple, silver and black, pitted and weathered, glints in the light that spills from the tube.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Starscream?”
Gravel in oil. It is hard to stay composed beside him. His willpower seems to extrude several paces from his armour. I manage to nod agreement.

It is beautiful. The Star Sabre hangs in the tube, glowing slightly. It is just as I had dreamed it. Crystal flows into white metal, which in turn flows into cobalt. It is a flawless construct, marred only by the tangle of cables that holds it in place.

I must look gormless, staring like this.
“Shouldn’t it be glowing brighter?”
“Yes…” A measured pause. “They are resisting us.”
With cold grace, a probe arm scrapes across the Sabre’s blade. It makes no impression.
“So I see.”

There is another heavy silence.
“Strange, Starscream. I did not think you would come in person.”
“As I told your personal oil-rag, did you expect me to stay away while you play with this?” I point at the sword. “My lord Megatron, you know me better than that.”
“True…” I glance upwards. Megatron’s burning optics are still fixed on the Star Sabre. The menacing shape of his fusion cannon is silent, at rest on his right shoulder. “And this is a moment that all Decepticons should rejoice in.” He waits again before at last pinning me in place with his vermillion stare. “I am glad to see you are restraining your keen wit.”
“There are some things beyond one-up-mechship. I’d say learning the secrets of the gods falls into that category.”

The words trip from my vocal circuits with ease. It is like returning to play a game I was once champion of. Still he watches me, weighing me up.
“You seem to be reigning in your hubris for once.”
“You had me crawl along the ground just to get here. I think my pride is still out there.”
A smile slowly creeps over his faceplate, horrendously distorted by the shadow of his helmet.
“I am in a forgiving mood. Consider your penance lifted.”
That said; he looks back to tube, following the progress of a horde of nano-bots as they try to break down the bonds holding the Sabre-Minicons together.

I wonder how long it will take Clench to do whatever he has to do. Not long I hope. It is difficult to stop myself from lunging forward and smashing the barrier around the sword. Indeed, the battle between survival instincts and feral desire is beginning to overwhelm me. I should not have come to Megatron’s side. His mere presence is enough to make me awkward…perhaps if I could remember experiencing it before…it had felt right to go straight to him…but now…

“Come here Clench.”
I flinch despite myself. Megatron does not speak very loudly but it is a startling contrast to the quiet humming that is the only other sound.
“Now.”
I dare not turn but I can hear slow footsteps coming towards us.
“Where have you been my friend?”
“…”
“Pardon? Are you by any chance hesitating because you do not wish to see your elders in this state?”
“…”
I look once more at Megatron. He is smiling again.
“Then I must insist.”

Clench gasps. I spin, unable to help myself. The plate on his chest is glowing brightly, sending rivulets of light over his body. He doubles over then straightens up again, staring blankly ahead. With a measured tread, he comes closer and faces the tube.
“Well?” asks Megatron, “What do you say now?” The Minicon gives no response. “Hn.”

I feel sick again. The plates’ purpose is clear, horribly so. To be enslaved like that, to have no free will, to be used…

“Hey! Hellooo! Guzzlers!”
As one, we look at Oval. He holds up his hands just as the last remnants of the chains fall away.
“Have a blast!”
Balls of light burst from his wrist tubes, impacting all along the room, blowing holes in important looking apparatus. Megatron’s cry of “Stop him!” is far too late.

Even as Skyshadow takes flight, gas and smoke billow from fractured pipes, cloaking us all in thick smog. I sense Megatron striding from my side, aiming straight for the rouge mech. This is my chance. This is my distraction. I lunge.

The tube cracks under my blows, splintering into a cloud of shards.
“What –”
Shockwave’s voice, close. Not close enough. My hands fold around the Star Sabre’s hilt. My world is filled with a haze of calm and bliss.

I see myself as if I am outside myself. I whirl, sword arcing through the smoke, slicing cleanly through Shockwave’s arm. I see Soundwave recoiling, then reaching for his gun. I flip into the air, passing over him, skewering him through the right flank, forcing him to the ground. I watch the smaller Decepticons as they mill about in utter confusion. I cut through them, downing them with clean strokes. I land on the holo-projector, crushing it under foot. My motions are effortless, as if I have done this same thing thousands upon thousands of times before. Indeed, I do not even have to think about acting. I am not thinking. The sword is thinking for me, guiding me, directing me.

I jump again, the fusion burst slamming into the floor that had been at my feet. The smog is suddenly blown aside, ethereal curtains pulling apart to reveal Megatron. He stands between me and the door, fusion cannon thrumming with power, face impassive, Clench in vehicle mode, clamped to his left forearm. He regards me, features still.
“So.”

I stay airborne. The part of me that is observing me half cringes and half snarls. The part that is in the thrall of the sword merely waits.
“So,” he repeats, “It has come to this.” A flicker of something like regret dims his optics. “You at last act. A shame. You sully the beginning of our victory with betrayal.” A sigh. “How pitifully selfish.”
Even with my reflexes amplified by the arcane power that streams from the sword, I barely evade Megatron’s charge. Without loosing speed, he whips out an arm and catches me a blow across the chest. I hurtle along the room, momentarily loosing my grip on the Sabre.

What in blazes –

It slams back into my hands and I block the stream of purple light that cascades from my opponent’s weapon. He lifts Clench, twin lances of pale gold shooting under the blade. I’m gone, catapulting myself over my foe’s shoulders. I do not get a chance to impale him; he is too fast, ducking away, fists ricocheting off my abdomen. Falling back, I launch the sword as one might throw a discus.

Again, the disorientation. What is happening to me? I –

The Sabre connects with Megatron’s chest, slicing through the black plates before returning once more to my grasp. The Decepticon leader is weakening a little, becoming more wary of striking. He backs up, gauging distances.
“You cannot rely on those three forever, Starscream. Sooner or later, the strain on your frame will become too great.”
Strain? I feel immortal! I feel as if I am a force of nature!

So why am I detached from it…why do I feel so…dulled?

Again, Megatron fires, this time over my head, trying to bring the roof down on me. I lift my arm and flex, firing my own blasters. They blow the debris outwards, blasting a hole right through the Castle’s walls. Using the distraction, Megatron charges anew. I tuck my legs up to my chest then kick out. The blow carries him across the chamber, leaving him embedded in a tangle of equipment.

No more time for this. I have to leave; have to get the Star Sabre to safety.

What about the other three? The thought hauls me out of my dazedness. I have to take Oval, Sideburn and Clench with me, get them away from this place.

No time! Move!

A hard thought. And not quite me own.

The door opens.
“Mighty Megatron, what are you doing? I came here expecting the Star Sabre in pieces not…not…”

I stare. Impossible. Impossible!

In the doorway, I am staring back.

It is me down to the last detail, my frame, my colours, my face, my energy signature – all identical. I – he – it – stands there, open mouthed, unbelieving. I mirror him, uncomprehending. I am Starscream. So why is he standing a full fifteen paces in front of me, holding some kind of disc? Megatron looks from one of us to the other, frowning.
“Starscream?” he asks, cautiously.

“I am,” says the newcomer at length, “The question is, who the pit are you?”
I cannot answer. I cannot speak. Something won’t let me. Megatron rises.
“How interesting. Perfectly identical.”
“Except for the fact that I am the real version.” The…other Starscream throws the disc at the Decepticon. “Maybe this will help you see things clearly.”
Megatron catches the object and examines it. It is a clear plate, edged with silver and stamped with a purple mask.
“What is this?”
The other Starscream looks shocked.
“‘What is this’? What in blazes do you think it is? It’s the relic you had me chasing halfway round the planet for!”
“I did?”
“Oh for Primus’ sake!”

He steps fully into the room and looks me straight in the optic.
“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but that livery is mine…” His hands clench and release. A blaze of purple light cuts down the sides of his arm blasters. With a swish of displaced air, two glowing blades swing out from them.
“And no one, absolutely no one steals from me!”

In the ‘second that he is moving, I try and fail to comprehend what is happening. How is this possible? How can there be another Starscream? How –

I bring the Sabre up just in time. The other’s blades scrape across its length, sparks bursting from the impacts. I twist away, using his weapons’ odd placing against him. He swings again but I duck and drive the Sabre’s hilt into his knee joint. Gasping, the other fires his boosters and shoots upwards. As I’m moving to a defensive stance, his blades start shimmering and suddenly leap inwards, coming to rest inside his gauntlets, projecting out beside his hands. He grins, crosses them for a ‘second then dives.

Now, my advantage gone, I am facing two weapons with one, desperately trying to counter both at the same time. Nevertheless, we are perfectly matched. I cannot seem to overwhelm him and he cannot get past the Star Sabre’s power. We fight on. Nothing is more important than my victory. Nothing is more important than dispatching this…impostor.

Somehow, as he weaves through one of my thrusts, he touches the Sabre. It cuts into his shoulder, gouging a thin grove in the silvery metal. And my mind wrenches.

I know it cannot be real but I find myself back in my quarters, looking at my reflection. A reflection that snarls back and beats on the mirror. I recoil then match its snarl, raising my fist and driving it through the glass. It disintegrates into shards, just as the tube did. Suddenly, I’m engulfed in a deluge of memories, sounds and sights flashing past faster than I can comprehend.

Flying for the first time dissolves into hunting with a squad of Seekers becomes diving out of a sunset changes to walking onto a stage and hearing “This is Jetfire, one of your fellow –” “We’ve met.” “May I present the First Lord of Vos: Starscream!” “I really don’t think you should have said” then I’m in the cool serenity of a temple and striding onto a launching pad, taking a femme in my arms before hurling an Autobot through a vast window “Landslide? Landfill more like!” “I have to leave…” “Why?” “I…Riptide, don’t…” “So you want to be a Decepticon?” a flash of silver on gold, a world in flames, bursting from a CR chamber, careening into a skyscraper, facing Megatron, walking along a vast, empty expressway, “Name’s Skywarp. You going to Kaon as well?” “Logically…” “Don’t give me that!” “Surrender, Decepticons!” “Hmm…Starscream, Decepticon Aerospace commander…I like it!” “Ramjet, Thrust, Sunstorm, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Starscream.” “Oh…Starscream.” “Starscream!” “Starscream?” “Starscream…” “Starscream –” “Starscream.”


MINE! THESE ARE MY MEMORIES! MINE!

We scream it in unison, struggling over the precious experiences. But I can’t find purchase, cannot grip, cannot hold onto them. They slide past my hands, flowing upwards as if being pulled into a singularity. I see a vast shape, Starscream formed from memories, perfect and whole and complete.

The mirror reforms. We reform. And I am on the wrong side of the mirror.

“NO!”
I fling the Sabre away, knocking him – the other – it backwards. Blades of my own spring forth, leaping to my forearms. I descend on it, focused on destroying this…this doppelganger…this reflection…this abominable thing. The world becomes a frenzy of shimmering blades and screaming copies of my own face.

I do not know how long we hack and slash and cut and rip. Abruptly, everything is still, our swords locked together, us standing like some bizarre sculpture.
“A clone?” hisses the other, “You’re not just an impostor…someone went to the trouble of making another me…right down to my spark…how dare they!”
“I am…not…a clone…I…am…”

Fluid. Cold. Lights.
“Unit stabilising. Spark signature conforms. Excellent.”
“Armour matrices holding steady. Internal components powering up.”
”It’s worked, Runway. We’ve done it. He is a perfect copy!”
“You doubted? Hmm…eh? Sonar, have a look at this. The databanks are registering content.”
“How is that possible? The interlocks we design should have…how strange.”
Darkness.

A memory of my own. A memory of being built. Oh no. No. No. No. Please, no.
“I am Starscream! I have to be!”
The other doubles his pressure on me. I double mine back.
“You have to be the clone…I’m real! Give me back my memories! Must I rip them from you? I am Starscream!”
“Over my rusting corpse!”

“Enough of this.”
Our heads turn as one. Megatron has the Star Sabre levelled at us.
“I believe the simplest and most effective way out of this problem would be to obliterate you both.”
“No!”
“You can’t!”
He smiles slightly.
“On the contrary…”

I don’t know how my arm raised like that or how it moved so fast. All I’m aware of is a beam from my gun striking the Sabre on its tip. Null Ray. The name comes to me as Megatron loses his grip on the sword and it falls. And splits smoothly into three segments. They swing back upwards, wings spreading, nosecones and engines unfolding. A dazzling glare reflects off them, burning into our optics. The oth – Starscream yells and covers his optics. Megatron turns his head away with a curse. I – who am no one – sink to the floor, the enormity of being nothing dragging me down. I kneel there even as the Star Sabre Minicons circle the room, erasing all the equipment that had been used on them. I am still even as they burn another, bigger hole to the outside world. I do not react to the voices inside me, urging me to follow. Ordering me to follow.

# Error# Data Collision# System Error# Sequencing Failure# Shut Down#

# Override# Priority File Accessed#

Clench! Oval! Sideburn! They must not be left here!

I surge back to my feet, racing for Megatron. I wrap my hands around Clench and try to rip him free. Pain blasts up my arms. I cannot free him no matter how hard I pull. Megatron, still blinded, punches out at me. The blow forces me to let go and I tumble, landing hard. Oval lies before me, unconscious. I pick him up as gently as I can and desperately look for Sideburn. I see him, slumped against the doorframe. He looks up as I run forward with my free hand outstretched, a hopeless yearning in his optic. Then it changes, becoming bitter resignation. He hunkers down even further and, almost imperceptibly, shakes his head.

I cannot fathom what the Minicon is playing at and I have no chance to work it out. Starscream flies at me, mouth open in a soundless roar.

I have no choice now. The voices in my head, the weight of Oval in my arms…I run for the hole, leaping from the ground, changing shape, enfolding the wounded Minicon and I fly for his life.

As a sleek starfighter, I explode out of the Crimson Castle and streak away over the wasteland. Starscream follows, changing as well, sheathing his swords and powering up his cannons. Deadly fireworks fill the sky around me, far too many for me to avoid. I manoeuvre with all the stolen, second-hand skill I possess, pushing my power plant to the limit. But I cannot evade the fire. Something hits me hard on the tail. I fly into a blaze of white light and…I am somewhere else.

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Time passes…

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“Feh!”
I glide back into the Castle laboratory, rage and shame battling for control of my actions. Gone! That filthy copy is gone! Vanished in a puff of smoke, no doubt back from whence he came. And I swear, if I knew where that was, I would be straight after him, gun at the ready. There is only one Starscream and I am he.

Megatron is surveying the ruins of his latest scheme. At my entrance, he charges his fusion cannon to full power and aims a salvo straight at my head. Fortunately, I was expecting it and hit the ground even before it’s escaped the muzzle.
“Stop! It’s me! I mean, it’s the real me!”
“And just how am I supposed to know that?”
An unfortunately good point.
“I’m the one who brought in that disc! The one you sent across the globe!”
“I did not issue any such orders. I have no idea what this ‘disc’ is supposed to be!”
Hmm…a touch of strain and weariness in the Slagmaker’s voice. I think fast.
“Look at my shoulder! I’m the one who got cut! The one that…clone tried to murder!”
Silence falls. Then:
“True. There is no way to replicate such a cut. The Star Sabre creates…unique wounds.” And he should know!
“Then that proves it’s me!”
“No. Only that you were the second Starscream to enter. This could of course have been an elaborate method of stealing the Sabre.”
“You are joking. Why in blazes would I go to all this trouble, disrupt the acquisition of the Sabre’s secrets, nearly get myself killed by a clearly insane clone and half-murder most of the High Command just to let the damn microbes escape?”
He considers. Finally he lowers his cannon.
“So be it. Get this mess sorted out. I will be in my quarters.”

With that, he walks out, that wretched little slave of his trotting at his heels. I look at the ‘mess’ in disgust. It’ll take vorns to replace some of the apparatus that got wrecked. Someone stirs in the pile of bodies. I switch on my link to the Castle’s computers.
“Get a medical team up here now. And find Steamhammer.”
I spot something by the door. Another Minicon, cringing against the wall, looking ready to blow a fuel-line.
“What are you looking at?”
He flinches and shakes his head, stuttering something incomprehensible.
“Get. Out.”
He runs. I prod my toe into a bit of exploded flooring.

A very convincing clone. I don’t know how…well, how our minds got linked when he hit me with that stupid sword. But it was like looking in a window and seeing your not-quite-there reflection. He was so…empty. Nothing there but whispers. No grounding, just limbo. I feel a chill run up my linkage. Best not to think too hard about what he – it – must feel. Best just to make what I can of this disaster.

After all, I am Starscream.

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I look down at the lights of Iacon, trying to lose myself in the glittering spires. It’s the most alive, intact place I’ve seen since I woke…since I was born. Perhaps if I just stand here and watch, life might just pass by and leave me to fade away.

Jet engines. They’ve come back.

The three Minicons circle me and set down on the rooftop. Sonar comes forward and smiles.
“We have returned Oval to Goldmount. He is safe.”
I do not respond.
“I am sorry you could not rescue the others. Unfortunately it is neigh on impossible to separate a Minicon from a Decepticon if the larger mech does not wish it. Do not feel too badly. Clench and Sideburn may yet do more good for our cause where they are. Sideburn certainly.”

Still, I do not answer.
“We are sorry for what happened. It should have been easier than this. We did not anticipate Starscream succeeding so quickly. We thought the temple’s defences would hold longer. And we should have prepared you more. Something went wrong at a late stage of your development…memories from Starscream had somehow transferred to you. Our plans for your testing overtook us before we could fix the problem. We were captured too soon.”
“You allowed yourselves to be captured. Didn’t you?”
“Yes…it was the only way to test what you were capable of. Besides which there was information we required from within Coppermount. Despite the problems, things have turned out for the best. You are everything we could have hoped for and now we have what we need for our plans to progress. The exodus can begin as soon as we have a ship.”

“You used Clench and the others.”
“Pardon?”
“Did they know you had let yourselves be captured?”
“Not as such…”
He looks down, embarrassed.
“Sometimes risks have to be taken. And as I said, Megatron struck faster than we had hoped…”

Runway comes forward. Jetstorm just watches.
“All that matters is that everything worked out. Now, come with us. We have things to be doing.”
He starts to turn away but Sonar halts him. The stockier mech is eyeing me curiously.
“You are…angry.”

I snort, looking back at the city.
“Angry? No. I think I’ve gone beyond that.

“For the last cycle I’ve been completely lost in a world I cannot hope to understand. Alone, confused, memories in tatters, I was utterly useless, face down, dreaming fractured dreams. But then along came Clench, Oval and Sideburn. Three little mechs risking their lives for what is right. They wake me up and eventually tell me the truth. I’m Starscream. A cold-fuelled, egotistical murderer. And suddenly, I have some kind of purpose. Somehow, I’ve been wiped clean. All that was had been swept away. I had a purpose, a meaning. I was ready to help make things better, to try and fix all I had helped break. Somehow it all seemed…right to carve something good out of my past failings.

“Only then the real Starscream turns up and it all falls apart. I’m a lie. A mere copy, built for the simple purpose of wielding the Star Sabre. I have nothing but that. No past. No future. I’m nothing.”

Sonar looks concerned.
“That’s not true.”
“I. Am. A. Lie. I wield the Star Sabre. There’s nothing else to me. Except… I don’t even have that, do I? I don’t wield you. You wield me. That’s why those ghosts in my databanks were such a problem. You wanted a completely blank state so you could write your will onto me!”

“Listen, you have a purpose. You are necessary, you are far more important than you know. You are to be our guardian. You –”
“I’m your slave! I’m the equalising factor, the Guzzler controlled by the Minicon! I don’t have anything of my own! I can’t be certain about any part of myself! For all I know, I only rescued Oval because you programmed me to look after Minicons!”

The words stream out, my ragged emotions etched into sound.
“I’m nothing to you, am I? A tool. A toy. And automaton. A joke.”
“Please…you are not a tool, not a joke…you are –”
“Aren’t I? Well then…if I’m not just a tool…tell me my name.”
“Ah…we…there…”
Sonar trails off.
“I don’t have one, do I?” I whisper, “I’m just Starscream’s clone. I’m just the wielder. And that’s it. A function. Not a name. Just a function. A descriptor. A designation. A word.

“How can I be anything if I don’t even have a name? How can I be anything if there’s a mech out there who is me and yet more than I could ever hope to be? How can I exist simply as a puppet, knowing that I am simply a puppet?”

I take me head in my heads.
“How can I be anything?”

Sonar and Runway exchange glances. Jetstorm is still watching me. I hear the two speakers mumbling. I catch words like ‘unstable’, ‘imperfect’, ‘dangerous’ and ‘disorder’. I don’t care what they say. How could it matter? Perhaps if I killed them all it might ease my grief a little. Perhaps if I killed Starscream I could take his place. Perhaps if I killed myself…

But they would never let me. I don’t care what their plans are but they have a place for me in them. They will never let me go.

I watch the city. Even the buildings here know what they are. I envy them that. They aren’t deceived about their purpose. I was. I’m a Mad Gunner, deceived and deceived again and again until my grip on my self is torn from me and I’m left to wander forever, alone with my delusions.

“Ahem.”
Runway coughs. I face him, uncaring. What can they do to me now?
“When we chose Starscream as your template, we did so based on his physical attributes: his speed, his strength, his inherent intellect, his weaponry and so on. We did not anticipate that his memories, or a fractured copy thereof, would be transferred into you during the cloning process. We fear this has taken a dangerous toll on your cerebral core.”
“We might be able to rectify the situation,” adds Sonar, “by wiping your systems clean but as the process failed once, there is no telling what further damage could be caused.”
“Why not just put me under your control forever?” I sneer, “Why not just wipe away my spark? Why not make me a complete drone?”
“Because we need you to be sentient. We need you to be alive and possessing a spark.” Sonar sighs. “I fear this is all too complicated for you to understand.”
“What do you intend to do with me?”

“Let you go. Let you make a place for yourself in the world. Perhaps take you to the Autobots and let them teach you how to be something more than a clone.”
Runway’s words make me feel something almost like hope. Maybe in time I could become something else. Maybe I could escape my –

Wait.

“What are you doing to me?” I clutch at my skull. “You’re trying to control me again!”
Sonar’s shoulders slump.
“No. We were trying to ease the pain of the choice. We were telling the truth though. We would take you to those who would be able to help you.”
“What are you lying about?” I loom over them, trying to ooze menace. “What are you not telling me?”
None of them moves. Runway’s optics narrow.
“We are willing to let you do what you want. As long as you come to us when we need you.”
“It will only be in very urgent circumstances,” Sonar tries to reassure, “You would be free to do as you wished otherwise.”

I raise my right arm and trigger the blade within.
“No more. I can’t live as Starscream. I can’t exist as a your slave. And I won’t live in fear of the day you summon me.” I take a step forward, a manic grin threatening to tear my face in half. “I will forge my own life…and I think I’ll start by taking you three back to Megatron. Maybe he will actually help me!”
“Enough of this.” Runway crosses his arms.
“Runway, please…”
“No Sonar, I have had enough. If this ungrateful cur cannot appreciate his own existence then I refuse to give him the dignity of a choice.”
“We mustn’t…”

“Mustn’t what?” I ask, “What can you do now? You don’t have another wielder, you don’t have the element of surprise and if you run, I will simply follow. You can do nothing to me now!”
Runway chuckles nastily.
“But it is not I who will do anything.” He steps to one side. “If you don’t want to be Starscream’s clone, then we shall have to adjust you. We gave you life. Now have you ‘freedom’.”
Jetstorm bows his head then moves forward. I swing my sword down, all caution tossed aside. The Minicon looks up. His optics become supernovas.

I am frozen in place, screaming as the light tears through my armour, through my circuits, through my soul.
“Let him be something new.” I can still hear Runway’s voice. “Let him have his individuality. But let him soar alongside us no more. Let him be a fallen star, a star cast down, a star of darkness.”
I pitch onto the floor and the light is gone.

Painfully, I drag myself onto my knees. The Star Sabre is in the air already, leaving me to my agony. Sonar is the only one who looks back, regret still on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats sadly, “We needed you. Go into the world. Make a place for yourself. Do not fear us. You are free now. Fare well, Darkstar. Till we meet again.”
They are gone, flying into the heights, lost in the celestial beauty of the night sky.

What did they do? I feel no different, still in turmoil, just hurting more. Then I look down at my hands. At my gauntlets. At my torso. At my boots. All the armour that had been silver is now maroon. That which had been maroon is now silver. It is as if I have been completely inverted. Reflected. Only the black remains. Not so much inverted then as seared by an unbelievable heat.

Is this all the freedom I have? I don’t look like Starscream any more. Is this it?

This…means, in a way, I’m not Starscream’s clone any more…so…what am I?

I have memories of my own. I have been cut loose from Starscream, save for a few mental echoes. I even have a name.

But I am alone, wearing a Decepticon badge in Autobot territory.

What do I do now? Where do I go? Who do I become?

I do not move.

I have found out who and what I am.

I am Darkstar.

And I am lost.





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