Chapter Text
Starscream awoke, alarmed that he did not remember laying down to recharge. Shaking his helm to rid himself of the remaining drowsiness, he moved to raise a servo to his forehelm, but he felt like he was stuck in the sheets of his berth, a problem that occurred more frequently than he would admit. Trying again, twisting and jerking, he could not lift his arm. The pressure on his wrists and ankles suggested he was bound and restrained and he panicked briefly that he may be in for another cortical psychic patch. His optics offlined as he felt a shiver travel across his frame, recoiling at the memory.
He knew something was horribly wrong when his wings did not respond to the tremor in his frame. In fact, he couldn’t feel his wings at all. With a sharp intake of breath, tilted his helm down to see and shrieked as he did not see his own armor and talons, but instead a pale pink, soft, and grossly organic body. A human body. He thrashed at his restraints, mortified, hoping, praying that he was having a nightmare and that at any moment his thrashing would rouse him and his optics would open to his hab suite and his usual silver plating.
But the longer he struggled, elbows and head clanging against the metal slab beneath him, the more he became aware that he was indeed awake and that he was actually doing this fragile organic body harm. His wrists ached, and his skin was moist. Why was it moist?
The loud howling he had produced echoed within the dark space. Out of the corner of his optic, a red glow and loud foot fall alerted him to Shockwave’s presence. Taking a moment to clear his processor and grasp his surroundings, he scanned the darkness around him more carefully.
Where Shockwave approached from his left, there was the glow of his optic which illuminated the cool metal around him, revealing glass vials and test tubes. His lab? As he turned his view and his gaze fell on his body once again, he had to force himself to fight back a nauseous whimper. Before he could finish his survey, Shockwave was upon him.
A laugh from behind the hulking cyclops made Starscream yelp in fear.
“It would appear your tests have been successful, Shockwave,” Megatron praised as he emerged from the darkness. A blinding light poured over Starscream’s vulnerable form, and he struggled to see the tyrant at the edge of the elevated table. Starscream felt his body chill, almost feeling weightless as he watched. He was violently aware of his vulnerability in this state. “And how is the test subject feeling?” His cheeks burned as his pump-no, heart- beat faster, those purple optics burning in his direction.
“What have you done to me?!” He spat as he spoke, feeling the fluid drip on his chest, making him gag. Why must human mouths be so wet?
“Don’t waste my time asking the obvious,” the warlord droned, rolling his optics. He clasped his servos behind his back as Shockwave started scanning and recording data.
Megatron began circling slowly. “Your CNA is now DNA. You are organic. A human. Though I thought by your screaming you already understood that.” He grinned down at the helpless human, all teeth.
Starscream steeled himself, praying to Primus that his voice would sound more controlled than he felt. “Why have you done this?”
“It is the first test of a process we hope to apply to our enemies in the future.”
“Why me?” he sputtered. “Couldn’t you test this on a vehicon? Surely I am worth more to you in my rightful state!”
“But I cannot deny your traitorous tendencies, Starscream. Shockwave, is the transformation complete?”
“Yes,” the cyclops finally spoke. “I am detecting no signs of energon or Cybertronian metals.
“Good. I will call this a complete success. Prepare more of the serum. We have many more tests to run.” Starscream shivered at the sharkish grin. Megatron prepared to leave, turning and walking to the door.
“What shall we do with Starscream now, my lord?” Shockwave followed.
Raising a thoughtful brow, he responded, “Dispose of him.”
Starscream couldn’t stop himself from shrieking once more as he begged and pleaded for his life. He even pleaded to Shockwave as he, too, turned and left. He had no shame so long as he lived to fight back another day. The door hissed shut in finality as silence fell.
He could feel that his face was colder than it was before. Was there water on it? His optics blurred as he panicked alone in the dark. The lights, already dim and few, were completely shut off all at once. His hair prickled on his neck, a bizarre sensation, and for some reason, he felt that he should quiet himself in the pitch black. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt like he was being watched. He attributed it to the eons of surveillance under Soundwave at first, but as the silence swallowed him and his body reacted to the fear, he wasn’t so sure. He was somewhat comforted by the darkness, unable to see his body. Unable to see what it had become.
But he could feel it. His intake and glossa were lubricated and soft, making him sick. He swallowed, and the sound of saliva slipping down his throat made him gag. He could feel the way his flesh gave under his own weight as he rested against the slab. The rhythm of his breathing, incessant, was slowly driving his processor to break. But the thing he hated most of all was the way the cold metal felt to his soft organic skin. Nothing could have prepared him for the way this felt.
He sobbed softly to himself, lamenting this latest offense against him before he heard something stir in the dark. He shifted, quieting his lament for a moment to try to make out anything in the void. He grumbled to himself for even trying to see out into the lab. The lack of light made it impossible to see for his human eyes. He missed many things, including his seeker’s extended range of vision, but as he detected a subtle movement in the room, the time for dwelling on all he lost was not now.
Listening and trying to remain calm, he tested his restraints again, each limb tugging in turn. Recalling what he had seen in the light before, the restraints appeared to be cables, repurposed most likely after his body slipped through the regular Cybertron-sized ones.
A shuffle in the room from somewhere to his right forced him to think faster. Time for analysis has passed, now was time for action. Tugging, he felt that freeing a servo would be possible if he could collapse the digits into the proper angle. Pushing his digits together as close as possible, he yanked as hard as possible.
Pain, he discovered, was very different for humans. No way to override the signal. He struggled, feeling a strain on his thumbs. Deciding to deal with one servo at a time, he switched tactics. Grinding his denta to bear the strain, he tugged his right servo, grunting. The thumb caught in the cable, preventing him from moving any further. Another shuffling sound in the dark, closer to where he lay prostrate forced him to push past any level of pain. The thumb was stubborn, but not as stubborn as his will to live. With one final effort and a very loud and painful pop, he was free.
He severely underestimated the human capacity for pain. Crying out and grasping clumsily at the next servo, he felt for the knot in the cable to untie it, hoping to avoid the same pain again. He whimpered in frustration as he realized the cable was tied underneath the edge of the slab. The pain in his right servo only increased with further use and after several failed attempts to release himself further, he collapsed back onto the table feeling more defeated than ever. His sobs pierced the quiet and marked his failure aloud. He was cold, tired, and alone. The throbbing pain was impossible to ignore or block out. And he knew he was not alone in the lab. At no other point in his life had he ever felt so broken.
As he closed his eyes, resigned to his fate, and recalled the days before the war. When times were happier. He saw the spires of Vos, a view long lost to his people. He longed to restore it, but now… He could see the newsparks all lined up, ready for their first formal flight lesson. He had been a decent teacher once. A skill long since rusted along with his home. He recalled the first thing he taught the newcomers: how to emerge from freefall. A terrifying ordeal, but crucial to the survival of any flyer. As he watched each of the recruits transform and take off, he followed, calling out to them.
“What is the most important thing to remember when in freefall?”
Each of them prepared to purposefully stall, replying:
Never stop trying.
Snapping his eyes open and lifting the tight cable with his injured servo, he pulled with a determined growl. He would live this day or die trying. He was certainly dead if he gave up now. Another tug and the leverage against the restraint from his injured servo allowed him to free the other from its place on the table. He took a moment to rejoice, ready to rub this in his master’s faceplate. A shift in the air, almost like a breeze alerted him to the liquid that started to cover all of his skin. Sweat, I think it’s called.
Another sound, closer to him than the others stirred him from his victory. Refocused on fighting back, he was able to free his pedes with significantly less pain, though he was immediately displeased with the idea of toes. Now completely free of his bindings, he contemplated the next step to escape. He was still on the elevated work table and the survivability of falling from the slab: not high.
He jumped in place with a start as the light directly over his location snapped on. Squinting, he shielded his eyes from the blinding light. Waiting to adjust to the change in the light, he was just barely able to make out the lunging form of a predacon in time to dodge. Darting to the side, he narrowly avoided obliteration as the claws whizzed past his face.
So this was how he would be disposed of.
Standing back up, he squared his jaw, ignoring the pain as much as possible. Using all the strength and resolve he had left, he dodged each attack carefully, narrowly avoiding being skewered or pinned by those massive metal claws. If he could see his own reflection, he would be glad to know he still moved with a seeker’s grace. Long, powerful legs carried him across the surface and away from each snap of teeth and swipe of claws. Knowing he was limited in time and energy, he kept his eyes open for any opportunity to get to the floor.
An opening caught his eye as the massive claw slammed next to him on the slab, and he sprinted to it and scurried like a scraplet up the arm. Climbing the beast, ignoring the pain of his skin scraping sharp edges and seams on the creature, leaving cuts and bruises on his fragile skin, he managed to get all the way to the floor. Miraculously, he was able to run.
Finding the direction of the door, he made his way quickly there, praying to Primus he would be able to open it somehow. He checked behind him for the pursuing form, but it appeared disoriented, having lost him. One thing he was thankful for, he discovered, was the silent footfalls of this smaller form. The beast howled, unable to hear the organic feet on the metal floor. He clanged into the door noisily and cursed under his breath. The predacon heard that. Turning and stalking, then leaping for him, it attacked, lunging.
Luckily, Primus seemed to favor him, for as the moment it came to the door, the predacon passed over him as he ducked. The force of the attack dented the metal with a deafening creak, producing a crack in the seal large enough for him to run through. Laughing to himself as the beast clawed at the door in vain, he hastily made his way toward what he hoped was the exit.
He had no idea if he was on the Nemesis or in Darkmount. As he got lost in the halls, darkened and enormous, he wasn’t sure it was either, and not some undisclosed location used as a lab in secret.
He was thankful to dodge most of the guards but was confused when he didn’t see a sign of Shockwave or Megatron. Surely they would pursue him, knowing he had escaped? Losing the fight with pain more and more as he ran, he was unsure how he managed to make his way outside undetected. The small duct he had come out of was not built for a bot to be able to climb out. Thanking primus to be out of the realm of nightmares, he inhaled the atmosphere of Earth. It was colder than the lab, but the freezing night air was not unwelcome.
Acting on pure instinct, his body carried him to the outskirts of a forest he spotted from the exit. Panting, and internals burning from overuse, he entered into the trees and concealed himself behind a large tree and under a shrub, still not knowing if he was being pursued. He waited for what felt like hours to hear the sound of a vehicon emerging to sweep the area, but exhausted, he soon slipped into recharge, pulling his limbs close, and his servo clutched tightly.
“Shall I retrieve him, my liege?” Shockwave stood next to Megatron, looking toward the forest where the human fled.
“No,” Megatron answered, looking thoughtful. A few moments later, he added, “He is no threat to us now. In all likelihood, he will perish on his own. Come,” he commanded, turning to reenter the fortress. “We have work to do.” The pair disappeared back into the darkness of the underground lab, Megatron now sporting another malicious grin.