Chapter Text
—⊹₊⟡⋆
The days are long and even longer are the nights. The planet you're stationed on was abandoned, no living being beside yourself after the Decepticons had eradicated all previous life on behalf of Megatrons command to conquer. Now you wait, have been waiting for quite some time for the crew members that were with you to return.
You presume they are dead. It would certainly make their abandonment of you easier to stomach and the fact that they took the only ship capable of flying with them.
There wasn't much to do, you synthesize your own energon thanks to the technology of the station and write daily reports. Occasionally you wander the terrains outside in hopes of finding anyone or scavenging parts. You dream of Damus. Not as often as you'd like and certainly not as vivid anymore. They're fleeting glances of past memories, words spoken to one another and soft touches shared. You catalogue and reminisce every dream to immortalize him in your mind, afraid to lose the little bit of him that is yours to the inevitable passage of time.
With each sun rise and sun set you wonder what has happened to him. You'd like to think that he's still alive out there somewhere like you are. Damus would have never forgotten you, of that you are certain but was he looking for you? Thinking of you?
Your spark burns at the thought of him dead. Cold and wondering where you are all by himself.
Another fleeting, treacherous thought plagues your mind. Would he have moved on? Picturing him happy with any other bot by his side, simply because you had no chance of reaching him makes you wish you had died in the war instead. You weren't fully conjunx endura but were in the process of the ritual when you both were separated in the growing conflict. As a result, your spark aches for something it has never fully possessed.
But no, you tell yourself. Not your Damus. He was not the cruel type.
He loves poetry and music, things made of passion and for a purpose and in those you see his reflection. In your daydreams you wonder what he’s accomplished for the cause, what he has given up for it. You both were secret Decepticon allies back then as you wanted freedom and change, to pursue your dreams and not be bound by laws meant to divide and weaken. It's what he spoke of often, to live a life where you would not be casted out or punished for speaking against the institution. He would've fought for what is right and far off, perhaps in a different universe, you were both together in a better world.
Now the war is over and what you've fought for has not amounted to much beside destruction and the suffering of many. It's been millions of years of nothing but war with no way to return home. All for your side to lose the conflict. At the dawn of the Decepticons making, Megatron spoke his most famous words of not being deceived and believing the lies fed by the senate and functionists, to push back against one's oppressors as he was not only a leader but everyone's dream of change.
As the cycles went on, even he became lost and led his people and you astray. It was not about fighting for a better cybertron, for the race as a whole, it was about violence and destruction. About killing whoever stood in his way, whether that be an Autobot or even a bot of your own. The Decepticons weren't what they originally used to be a long time ago but you weren't exempt from that fate either. Shame floods you at the thought, especially as they've moved to murder races deemed less than Cybertronians as if the sigil you wear wasn't a reminder of your own origins. That you were a movement intended to dismantle such ways.
Over the radio broadcast you heard the unimaginable, that lord Megatron himself has surrendered and that he's now an Autobot. You thought that he would have rather actually died than ever surrendering or joining the likes of Optimus Prime but then again, was it not in our nature to change? Cybertronians outlive most civilizations, as such one goes trough many different stages in life. Back then you had not felt any great way about it. You had never met Megatron before, only heard his commands. But if there was retribution left for him, you'd like to think that you could start new again somewhere as well.
You watch the little light pulse rhythmically in the control center and absentmindedly trace the naked space where your sigil used to be. There was no one you could call for help and sending an unspecified help signal was too much of a risk. If the Autobots came for you, they'd mostly likely sack you and if Decepticons found you, you'd probably lose your life. If another species found you; again same outcome since your race was blacklisted by the Galactic Counsel. You were at a disadvantage and so you settled for the only private comm frequency you know, Damus's. Deep in your most hidden recesses of your mechanized lining, you held onto the possibility that he might hear it and find you.
An alarm signal goes off. You get up from your seat to take a closer look at the holographic display that shows whatever's currently nearing itself. This was not uncommon as meteor showers tend to pass close to the atmosphere.
You think you might be hallucinating as you lean in closer. The image you see depicts a ship, a Cybertronian one at that.
It was funny though, the closer it gets the more it begins to strikingly resemblance the Peaceful Tyranny. The DJDs warship.
You squint your optics.
It is the damned ship!?
You're send into overdrive and sprint back inside. What the hell did they want?! What or who were they looking for?! Surely not you. You were nothing but a low life Decepticon, you hadn't done anything to deserve such a punishment at all! Granted you were hiding here like a coward but also the cause wouldn't magically regain power just because you join the frontlines somewhere. Besides, Decepticons didn't even like their own brethren! You'd be minced by either side, the war was over anyway! Every Cybertronian heard how lord Megatron himself ordered to drop their weapons, this just wasn't fair.
Frantically you smash the button for your quarters to open and snatch your old sigil from your table to slap it on where it used to sit. Your digits tremble, you think you can hear them outside and you run back into the corridor to turn everything upside down and hit every button on every door to at least give them a harder time, maybe even make them give up on coming trough. If they notice someone's actively living here which they probably will, then you were absolutely done for. All you could hope for is that your death would be quick enough. Considering the reputation of those mad psychopaths, your chances were embarrassingly low. You nearly trip over as you run far in to the bowel of the station, doors locked hiding inside some storage room with only a gun and a bit of ammunition to your name.
Seconds click by while you agonizingly wait for hopefully nothing to happen.
You hear steps echo from the hall and...is that snarling?
Sudden electro shocks spark around the frame of the door and it falls open with a loud bang, you jump up terrified, stuck to the very far back of the wall.
"What do we have here?" Your gun is promptly abandoned as it's torn out of your grip by a row of sharp teeth.
Whatever tales you were told, they were no lies. Two individuals have torn the door down. One of them literally has no optics and the snarling creature beside him is a spark eater. The lunatics have spark eaters as pets.
You should have died in the war.
"Don't mind him, yet. You're coming with me." Dread fills you, with the creature growling by his side you're left no choice as to let him grab and drag you away.
"Wait, what do you want?! I’m not a traitor- I don't have anything either!" Panicking, you try to shake him off.
"You better shut it now, you can spill your guts when we get outside."
He's laughing and that creature beside him cackles. You wish you'd find this remotely amusing.
You flinch at the light change and at the sight that awaits you. It's the entire group of degenerates and in the front stands none other than their leader. There's a bot with an oven in his chest and what is that..a literal crusher?! Their alt modes weren't designed for transportation, they were entirely designed for torture. It never occurred to you that Tarn has a cannon just like Megatron does, a true patriot if it wasn't enough that he wears the Decepticon symbol as a mask. This is probably the part where you beg for your life as a form of entertainment.
The vice grip loosens and you are unceremoniously pushed over to fall on your knees right at Tarns feet. You don't think getting up is a good idea, not like you could anyway the raw fear you feel made you loose all tension in your limbs. There was nothing left to do, they'd show you no mercy. You'd be slaughtered meaningless and join all the other unfortunate Decepticons, deluded by their dream.
You can't look up, you don't want to look anywhere.
His pedes move and with each step the ground shakes deafeningly.
✧
They had been pursuing a Decepticon, another mark on their list when they- Tarn intercepted your signal. He demanded that the ship cease its pursuit immediately and for several moments, the crew watched in silence as he listened to the ring inside his head. He read the commnumber over and over again. It was familiar he realized and so it must belong to his previous identity but he quickly noticed that it is still ingrained into his current subconscious, accompanied by something akin to a melody.
He is able to list these numbers in correct order for some reason, even after all this time and hear the distant song. Was this...nostalgia? There wasn't much to reminisce besides maybe the time he crossed the senate and they promptly punished him with the empurata procedure or the first time he heard of Megatrons speeches and writings. The sequence awakened an odd sense of urgency inside of him, not revealing much else no matter how often he repeats it. It's followed by a sudden forgotten ache that claws inside of his mind, screaming at him to just remember.
It makes him uncomfortable.
There is something he should know but he just doesn't. Images flash in front of his optics of all the bots he's spoken to and killed in his lifetime as he wills himself to remember. He should as he does not forget easily and especially because he's as a point one percenter, simultaneously he's trying to gauge what this means for him. Who even owned his private commnumber, much less was able to remember it and was alive to use it on top of all that? Whoever this was, they were clearly not aware of his current status.
Then he decided that this was a liability. Every bot from his days at the Jhiaxian academy was either dead, as he made sure all traces of Damus disappeared, an Autobot or worse maybe an unfaithful Decepticon. Tarn never took loose ends lightly.
Still, Damus existence haunts him and threatens everything he's made of himself.
Sudden frustration bubbled up inside of him and his joints flexed in their telltale manner whenever he's aggravated, the crew around him stepped back yet it was futile. His servo darted out, it was expected really and wrapped itself around a head and crushed. The metal gave out under his palm and its contents spilled out onto the ship’s floor. What a pity it was, Kaon had to get someone to clean it up, they were one member shorter and Tarn just earned himself more paperwork.
✧
It was a well known fact that Tarn had a dangerous voice, some say he did not need to speak of death and a bot would drop dead anyway. That he could kill with no gun, with no sword and no torture needed, just the sound of his voice. You never understood how such a thing could be possible, now you do.
He speaks your destination, long and drawn out as if to announce who would get a taste of their so-called justice. The sound wraps itself around your spark like a corrosive disease and clenches it.
"Get up."
You hoist yourself up on wobbly legs as your body processes the command before your brain module does. Against your will, your optics sweep over him from the bottom all the way up. All that's left in your mind is the shadow he casts over you.
His statue was huge, you doubt that you have ever seen any bot his size. The living oven behind him was bigger, if that was even possible.
"Tell me, how did you get on this poor excuse of a planet?" Tarns voice comes out in a deep rumble.
"..after Megatrons command to conquer, Dreadcore who I was under command for, besieged this planet. No one stayed behind except for me...my order was to establish communications in case anybody would come back." Your optics dart from DJD member to member until they land on a blue mini bot, this one you do not recognize.
"A communications worker then are you?" He asks.
You nod tentatively.
He circles your frame, scrutinizing you from top to bottom. You were nothing special and he knew that just like he knows everything about every decepticon to have ever aligned themselves with the faction. Not just that though. Much like his list, he ranks every existing member based on their intelligence, strength, loyalty and their order of importance. Atleast he used to, these days he values loyalty more than anything else.
Nor your designation or your looks brought him closer to the groundbreaking revelation he was seeking. So whatever answers he was looking for regarding his past self, must lie in your past aswell.
He's made his way in front of you now and your sights are stuck square on his badge. Staring at its eye holes to be precise, you wonder what you had done to end up in this predicament.
"Loyal little subject that you are, on all accounts you haven't done anything dastardly, if one ignores your uselessness on this planet regarding the cause. Then again, the cause is much more than that and every bots spark beating for its will keeps it alive. So, I won't kill you but depending on your usefulness to me, this factor might change and not in your favor. Do you understand?" He tilts his head while his servos clasp together in front of him.
That was a rhetorical question, either you give him what he wants or you die and you hope for your own sad existence that you could.
The fuel in your cables nearly froze in fear, but you could not afford to let it get to you. You answer a mumbled "yes" and prepare for the worst.
"Tell me about that frequency you're using and you will be shown mercy." He commands.
Shit. "It's an emergency signal." It was not entirely true but not really a lie either.
"To who? It's not the standard issued Decepticon comm link, and it is not anywhere near Decepticon frequency." Tarns optics narrow behind his mask. "Lying will get you nowhere, especially not out here. I warn you, choose your next words wisely." He warns, resting his arms by his hips, awaiting your answer.
"It's a friend’s comm number, I have done no wrong." You plead. They shouldn't even be able to detect the frequency this was a private comm link unless they possessed some sort of special equipment that could pick up on any signal existing. Looking at these lot it was probably not even a system, it was probably that tiny lanky bot who’s been mumbling incoherent phrases you don't understand.
"What friend? I'm certain you know their name, no need to be shy. I mean if you don't tell me now, we'll find other methods that will surely appeal to you later." His servos sweep behind him gesturing to the rest of the DJD.
He's laying it on a bit thick.
You can't help but hesitate, there were too many questions that occupied your thoughts but what you figured is that they must be looking for him or something along those lines.
He notices and before you try to bullshit him he quickly presses you more. "Silence is not an option. The silent are just like the dead. Just like all the comrades in your group, gone like dust over millennia."
But you can't, after all this pain, after all the hopelessness you could never betray him in such a way, hand him out and be the possible reason for his demise while what? He may be searching for you too! Your poor Damus.
If this had been anyone else Tarns patience would've worn thin. "You aren't a communications worker. Your alt mode is designed for speed, you look more like a scout than anything." He accuses, tone sharp
If you had watched him, you would've anticipated him suddenly gripping your jaw to angle your sights up at his red eyes. "No, in fact I believe you were given a different purpose. When did you become a Decepticon?" He continues.
"Before the war on Cybertron, when Megatron first coined the term." You manage to grit out while you stretch your neck uncomfortably to accommodate for the pull.
Interesting, that means you had witnessed it all, not many were there or endured long enough to look back on all those years, you still sported your badge. "And what was your occupation before the war?"
"I was a courier." You whisper closing your optics under his harsh scrutiny.
He twists your face this way and that, searching for something. Your hands hover by your sides, paranoid in case you need to claw at him. "...Mhm, am I right to assume that this isn't your real designation then either? Tell me little courier, now."
You tell him the truth. He'd gain nothing from your old designation as you were a nobody before the war just like now. It had no reputation or meaning attached since you worked for someone way higher up in the food chain. You delivered packages and cargo with a secret express service, meaning you used to deliver all kinds of illegal shipment.
The atmosphere shifts and Tarn abruptly stills his movements. His eyes pierce yours and for a moment you're convinced that you've sold your life away. Whatever you said, it wasn't the correct answer apparently.
"Repeat that again?" Tarns voice has dropped a dangerous octave and he's leaning his masked face close down to yours.
You feel lightheaded as you have to stand on the tips of your pedes. Any wrong movement and your faces would touch. You avert your optics and shakily repeat your words.
For a moment Tarn found himself not on the peaceful tyranny but completely elsewhere. On a different planet, in a different body and with a different name. An ache so raw not even whatever drug he takes could soothe the mind altering pain he felt.
"Kaon." He lets you go and gestures for the eyeless bot to, what you assume is, end you.
"Wait- no I am not a deserter! I have been nothing but loyal to the cause!" Desperate, you try to twist out of Kaons reach but he manages to grab you and with a tap to the back of your head, you're out.
Before your limp frame can hit the ground, Tarn carefully scoops you up in his arms, mindful to keep you comfortable.
✧
When your optics online again, you're surprised to find yourself in a habsuite. Assessing your current situation you wonder if you had actually died or not. You turn your head and-
come face to face with DJDs warlord and wonder if you aren't in the underworld instead.
He stirs in his seat in front of your berth upon you noticing him. How long has he been sitting there, watching? "You're on the peaceful Tranny." He informs you.
Ah great. Atleast you weren't in a cell.
"As a prisoner or a hostage?" You slowly sit up and try to soothe the incoming headache resulting from being knocked out.
"Neither. As a new member." Depending on who you asked, it meant the same thing. He almost sounds amused at your response, you hope this meant you were off the hook indefinitely.
"The friend you spoke of, the one you were trying to contact is dead. You don't need to fear us going after him but I want confirmation from you, for official reasons. Bureaucracy and all things paper work related."
The sound of your own voice dies in your intake. Damus death was anticipated but it did not make stomaching it any easier. You had been alone for so long, enduring with the hopes of finding him again some day.
Abruptly, your optics snap towards Tarn. "How would I know that you're not lying?" You ask carefully. All of this seemed too bizarre for you.
"I keep log of every deception and their active duty." Tarn shrugs and taps the data pad in his servos.
Yeah sounds about right actually.
"No harm will be done to you. You have my word. Now, the bot was known as Glitch but I believe you knew him under a different designation, is that correct?" He begins his interrogation.
Looks like you had no choice in the matter. "His name was Damus, we knew each other before the war." You watch as he takes note of your replies.
It was odd how much he was hanging on every syllable of your words. Would your words determine your fate? Would your association with him mean bad news for you? Might as well say the truth. You'd never lie about what he was to you, especially not after his death. He deserved it.
"Go on."
"He used to be a student at the Jhiaxian academy for advanced technology, quite tall and what made him special was his outlier ability." You answer.
"What ability did he have?"
"He could render machinery useless with just his touch." Your thoughts wander to the past times in which he'd hurt himself using his powers.
Tarn nods. "Tell me how and where you met him."
The memories were fresh as ever in your mind as you took care to honor them, you have never told any other bot about these though and speaking them into existence did not feel right. They were private and up until to now, only known by you.
"It was a chance encounter. I delivered a package to the academy and he picked it up. I continued to deliver there and I guess fate had a way of bringing us together." You shrug, there was more to it than that obviously but you wanted to keep your over sharing at bay. You hadn't spoken to another sentient life form in so long.
"What did Damus look like?" Tarn briefly looks up from his data pad.
You fidget nervously, the crevices in the wall behind him were suddenly a lot more interesting as you shied away from answering.
"He was an empurata victim..." Your voice trails off.
"Oh?" This caught his attention, a reaction you wanted to avoid.
"Yes, replaced head, one optic and claws for hands but I mean- I didn't mind at all." You find the need to defend yourself and him.
"Did you know him before that?" Tarn taps his index fingers on the side of his mask and leans back in his seat.
You wonder what the purpose of these questions were. In what context could these possibly help whatever he was digging around for. "No, I only knew that version of him." You shake your helm.
"Empurata victims are supposed to be shamed by society, the punishment comes with the underlying message that the individual has crossed the senate the wrong way. A demonstration of power." He explains.
You note that he naturally has a melodic way of speaking, whether on purpose or not, you didn't know. It adds a different layer of danger to him beside his raw strength. Persuasion, the art of carefully crafted words to disarm one's guard subconsciously.
"Ofcourse. Even then I felt like how I do now. Damus was different and his powers endangered his life, the functionalists were already out to get bots like him but he and a lot of others knew that it was not right." You let your head hang at the memories.
He hums, satisfied with your answer.
"I never saw Damus as an outcast. I saw him for what he was, himself." You add.
Tarn stays silent for a short while before he resumes his writing as he organizes his thoughts.
"He was more than a friend to you I take it." He states, observing your reaction.
Silence settles into the room, you take this opportunity to school your features and pretend that you're too embarrassed to answer while you try to analyze his behavior for any clue as to why he interrogates you about this topic specifically.
"I may be the captain of the DJD but even I can understand the delicate concepts of the spark." His tone was soft, inviting you to be comfortable.
You were acutely aware of the conversation’s strange nature but where would refusal get you at this point? Besides if you treaded the imaginary mind field that he was careful enough, it should be fine. Atleast you tell yourself that.
"Yes, we were a pair. While we hadn't completed the ritual, the intentions were there. Our bond was fresh but I knew there was no one else I wanted to spend eternity with." You admit.
"Why did you like him?" He stores his data pad away, finished and directs his sole attention to you.
"Is...this also intended for paper work and bureaucracy? Or is this out of personal curiosity?" You decide to be bold and ask what has been plaguing you.
An unexpected chuckle escapes him. "Your ties to him might still be useful information even if he's deceased, that is if you decide to humor me."
"I didn't like him. I love him, still." Your response comes out as a sad exvent.
If you didn't know any better it almost looked like he was about to fall out of his seat. "Yes...my correction."
You decide to continue. "He was a visionary even if he only had one optic. He dreamed and wished for a better Cybertron." Naturally you leave the bits out where he wished to have a face and hands again to caress and kiss you with.
"...what happened?" Quiet, he asks. You almost didn’t hear him.
You shift a bit uncomfortable, wasn't it obvious? He knew what happened, every Cybertronian knew. The next events should be plausible enough to guess.
"Well you know-" You gesture a bit here nor there. "The Decepticon uprising began-"
"Yes I’m more than familiar. I meant why aren't you two together anymore?" He interrupts you.
Straight to the point.
"We got separated. One day I never saw him again and things became unstable, more important matters arose. A war to win." You explain.
"And why did you side with the Deceptions?"
"Damus always spoke of autonomy and I joined the Decepticins ranks because I believe that's what he would've fought for too. You are being deceived..that whole thing" You scrape away at the old paint of your plating.
He's quiet for a moment, turning his head away from you and interlocking his servos in his lap.
"How often Megatrons most famous rallying cry comes to mind, indeed. Do you still believe in the cause?" His optics find yours again, pinning you in place.
You almost blank at his relaxed demeanor that was quite in contrast with the weighted question he of all bots just asked. The previous nervousness you felt returns as you quickly formulate your answer. "I've always believed in what we fought for in the earliest days. For what Megatron actually united us for, that all are equal. But our leader is no more and whatever the cause used to be is no more either."
"Never tried moving on?" It was an abrupt shift but you're thankful for it, the atmosphere had become rather heavy.
"No. Never, he was- is my conjunx endura for now and until the end." The corners of your mouth lift in a small smile before you bring your servo up to your face plate and subtly wipe the expression away.
Tarn rises from his seat then and rests a large servo on your shoulder, squeezing in encouragement. His touch lingers for a beat too long and you might be hallucinating but the expression in his optics is gentle. "Thank you. I will leave you to rest and come to fetch you later."
"Can- can I ask something?" You halt him in his movements almost immediately.
"Certainly." He turns to you and leans on the wall beside the habsuits door.
"What exactly happened to him, to Damus?" You were afraid of the answer but you needed to know.
"He died an honorable warrior, rest assured. His passing paved a way for something greater." Tarn sounds pleased, red eyes shining down at you.
Not really the kind of answer you were looking for but this was all you were going to get. It was nothing gruesome at least, you were proud of him and your spark could now rest with the knowledge that nothing terrible happened to him. "I...understand, thank you."
As he takes his leave, you're terrifically reminded of the new reality of your situation. You just got recruited into one of the most feared Cybertronian sub-factions.
The habsuite closes behind him and he swiftly walks through the halls towards his own office.
The moment he heard you speak your real name, he was hit with all the things he lost. When he realized who you were and what you had meant to him, he could barely keep it together. It felt like his existence regained a new sense of purpose, this insatiable void that he seemed to have been forged with, ruined all his accomplishments and left him unfulfilled no matter what he did. The hollow echo inside of him had taken your form, your affections that left an impression in him, that is what had been missing.
The need to collapse in your embrace and let you heal all the wounds that have accumulated hidden beneath his exterior was all consuming. He wants to strip himself bare and show you in its entirety what has happened to your Damus, not because he was inherently weak but because it was the entire truthful spectrum that defined him as an individual.
Tarn was in itself a persona, created for a higher purpose, especially the mask. For most a symbol of his devotion but it stood for nothing of that sort, rather to hide the fact that he closed his eyes at Decepticon violence. You would understand him in his entirety, his struggle and you would listen, absolve him of all the things he's done because they were necessary and in return he would give you everything his previous self could not. He would fulfill those promises of a better life. He would ease your worries, soothe your sparkache and comfort you as long as you would be by his side.
He wonders if you would accept him. He was completely different from the bot you once called your lover. Are you still the identical being if every component that makes up who you are is replaced? The violence and the hunting blurred everything. His addictions and his hunger warped him into a ruthless creature. Surely you'd despise what he's turned into. Is there anything of that left in him for you to recognize as your soulmate?
He'd like to think that you would. You were his muse, the source of his creativity and his sole driving force for him to master his outlier ability. You, his conjunx endura. The only bot that understood him unapologetically and loved him unconditionally. Despite the change, you'd see right through him and see his soul, unchanged and still the same one you had fallen in love with.
The thought of you alone, mistreated or even hurt while he wandered the galaxy ignorant of your existence made him sick. He could not stomach the thought of all the possible things that might've happened to you. That was no more, he'd protect you from all the cruelty the world offered. Under his care, he would not let anything happen to you or let you come in contact with any filthy deeds. He wonders what you've witnessed, much like him you looked nothing like your past self but your love had stayed true to none other than him.
What you both shared was unlike any bot could ever dream up. It was love in its purest form, across the universe and resistant against the passage of time.
You were right there but he knew that you could not be together yet. It's tearing him apart in a completely new way, your continued absence would split his spark indefinitely but he had to be delicate in not frightening you. Soon, he would tell you the truth.