5.Nov.08

The Four Million Year Bender

 By: Taratron

The Autobot on the screen looked solemn.  Then again, Alpha Trion ALWAYS looked solemn.  He could be in the middle of party, and he’d look like he’d just seen his best friend die.  Various Decepticons and even some Autobots had theorized that this quality was what made him so vital to the Autobot cause; he certainly had no other redeeming value.  Except his mustache and beard, of course, but that was just because he was the only Cybertronian with facial hair.

“Greetings, Alpha Trion,” Optimus said cheerfully.

Alpha Trion looked, if it was possible, even more solemn, like he had been offended by Prime not acting like life was deathly serious all the time.  Since Optimus Prime was used to his old friend/creator/rebuilder/savior/whatever-the-plot-called for acting like this, he wasn’t offended.  “Prime,” he intoned (solemnly, of course), “I have called you about a most serious issue.”

“If this is about retaking Cybertron again, I told you that I’m working on it!  Ironhide’s working on our offensive strategy at this very moment.  He’s working…” Optimus glanced to the side, where Ironhide was inspecting his foot for fungus, “…very hard.”

Now the old Autobot seemed slightly annoyed.  “No, that’s not what I’m calling about.  I mean, it’s important, but I’m sure that Ironhide can handle the details.  I’m calling about the Autobot females.  They’re working very hard for the Autobot cause, and I grow worried about them.”

“Elita-1’s not cheating on me, is she?” Prime asked suspiciously.

“Of course not!” Alpha Trion exclaimed.  “How can you ask that after four million years of loyalty?  It’s just that she and her fellow Autobots are working so hard that I rarely see them, and they get little acknowledgment for all they do to keep Cybertron safe against the evil Shockwave and the Decepticons.  Perhaps you should call Elita-1.  Make sure that she knows how much you appreciate the females’ efforts.  Maybe it would help patch up this problem between you and her…”

“Are you saying we have problems?!”

Alpha Trion sighed as Prime looked indignant.  “No…well, maybe.  It’s just that these long-distance relationships are so hard to keep going, and then there’s that whole big issue about not calling her for four million years…”

“I was in statis!”  Prime shifted uncomfortably when Alpha Trion gave him a skeptical look.  “I know I haven’t apologized yet, but between the war with the Decepticons and the long-distance bills, I’ve just been a little busy!”  He looked away and shrugged uncomfortably.  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.  I’ll give Elita-1 a call, let her know that the Autobots on Earth are thinking about the females on Cybertron, and, um, grovel?”

“That’ll work.  Try begging, too.  You don’t find femmes like her often, and then you have to fight the Decepticons for them.  She’s really special.  She’s been loyal to you for over four million years despite Megatron’s proposals of ‘joint alliances’ and Shockwave’s attempts on her life; she deserves better!”

Optimus ducked his head guiltily.  “I know.  I know!  Er…I could send her flowers.”

“Flowers?”  Alpha Trion’s solemn look acquired a distinctly puzzled edge.  “What are they?”

“Human custom.  The males send the females colorful vegetation to appease them.”

“Strange custom.”  The older Autobot shrugged.  “Does it work?”

“Sometimes.  I’m not sure how’d I’d get them past Shockwave, anyway.”

“It’s the thought that counts.  Make sure you call her, okay?”

Optimus nodded, and Alpha Trion ended the transmission.

* * * * *

“Have there been any signs of the Autobot femmes?”  Megatron watched the monitor upon which Shockwave stared back at him.  As usual, the purple Decepticon was alone in the central room of the defense tower, and as usual, did not have good news.

“Would it kill him to smile once?” Megatron asked to himself.

“No, mighty Megatron.  I’ve sent Sentinel units out in search of them, and recently they located an abandoned base, but no femmes.”

“How did you know it was abandoned then?” demanded a scratchy voice, like nails on a chalkboard, behind Megatron; Starscream glared Shockwave, who seemed not to see the air commander.  “Perhaps it was just a trick to fool you, Shockwave!”

“Unlikely, Starscream.  The base was left in pieces.  There were no traces of them.”

“Then how do you know it was the femmes, anyway?  It might have been some old bunker!”

“An old bunker with pictures of Optimus Prime, signed with I love you, Optimus?”

Megatron paused.  “WHAT did you say?”

Shockwave seemed to sigh.  “That was what was written on the pictures, mighty Megatron.  But I have several Sentinel units exploring the areas for any traces left.”

“I thought you said there were no traces,” interjected Starscream.  Behind him, Rumble stuck out his tongue, making faces at his back.  Shockwave didn’t smile for several reasons, mostly because he couldn’t.

“I did not detect any, no.  But the Sentinels might be able to.”

“Do it then,” snapped Megatron.  “How is the space bridge, Shockwave?”

“Fully functional, mighty Megatron.”  Behind Starscream, Rumble began to mouth along with Shockwave’s words, adding to them gestures Shockwave probably never would do.  Shockwave tried to ignore them, and then twitched suddenly. 

“So there will be no more instances like the time we sent Ramjet and Dirge through?”

Shockwave thought about the two Decepticons that had gone through the bridge and onto Earth, mangled, and for some reason, wearing party hats.  There had been a slight problem with that, after all…  “No, Megatron.”  Twitch.

“Good.”  Megatron paused at some noise, looking back to see Starscream trying to look innocent with Rumble yelling from under his feet.  “Starscream, knock that off!”  He turned back to Shockwave.  “Your dedication proves your worth, Shockwave.”

“I am not worthy of such notice, mighty Megatron,” said Shockwave, thinking the exact opposite precisely.  Twitch.   

“Suck-up,” hissed Starscream in the background, letting Rumble up.

“Shut up, Starscream.  Call when you have more information, Shockwave.”  Megatron ended the transmission.

“Since when does mighty Shockwave have nervous tics?” asked the air commander.

“What are you babbling about now, Starscream?” demanded Megatron.

“I only saw that-OW OW OW OW!”  Starscream began to jump up and down rather amusingly as Rumble took off. 

“What is it now, Starscream?”  Megatron had to smile.

“That little brat gave me a hot foot!”

“Prove it, Screamer!”  Rumble raced away, dropping his matches, and Megatron shook his head. 

“You’re an idiot, Starscream.  It would improve morale to no end around here if you were more like Shockwave.”

“I say he’s up to something, Megatron.”

Megatron sighed.  “Other than guarding the space bridge, attacking the Autobot femmes, and being loyal for over four million years?  He has you beaten, Starscream.”

“Didn’t you see him twitching!”

“Yes, looking at you for such a long amount of time does that.”

“I still say he is up to something, Megatron.”

“Merely because he does not declare himself leader every time I leave the room does not make him a traitor, Starscream…not like SOME people I know.”

“You were gone for over two hours!  How were we to know you would be back?” asked Starscream, bristling in defense.

“Oh, shut up.  The point is that Shockwave is loyal to both myself and the Deception cause, which is more than I could ever say for you.  For over four million years he has been keeping the Autobots from retaking Cybertron, and you…well, Starscream, you were beaten by that Bumblebee and the Autobots’ pet oil worker.”

“That was a one-time thing!”

“It happened only yesterday!”

“It was a one-time thing!” Starscream insisted.

“And last week, and the week before.”  Megatron sighed; why couldn’t all his troops be as loyal as Shockwave?

* * * * *

Optimus braced himself, reaching with trembling hands to press a key on the computer.  It cued terror, it cued horror, it cued the computer to call Elita-1.  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” he muttered to himself.  Somehow, the human saying applied to this moment. 

Pastel colors filled the screen along with Elita-1’s face.  “For the last time, I told you not to call me while I’m—OPTIMUS!  Oh, um, hi!  I didn’t expect a call from you!”  Nervously smiling, she waved to someone off screen.  “It’s OPTIMUS, girls!  Keep it down over there so I can talk to him, okay?  They’re, uh, repairing some stuff,” she said to Optimus.  “If you hear anything, it’s probably the power tools.”

“Okay,” Optimus replied, astonished that she hadn’t ripped his head off yet.  He had been expecting her to tear into him for not calling for four million years, but apparently she was just worried their conversation might be interrupted by the femmes repairing things.  How could he have ever doubted her?  “I’m just calling to say that we Autobots appreciate your efforts, girls.”

“Are you reading that off of a script?” Elita-1 asked suspiciously.

His shoulders slumped.  “Was it that obvious?”

“Stick to the speeches, Optimus,” she advised.  “At least no one expects you to act like it’s casual conversation.  And what’s with the ‘girls’ thing?  I’m older than YOU are!”  Someone yelped in the background, and her irritated expression melted back into a nervous look.  “So, um, is that all?”

“Who was that?”  The anonymous voice had sounded very masculine…

“Chromia.”

“Oh.”  Well, that would probably explain it.  Casual conversation, casual conversation…what in blazes was casual conversation like?!  He was used to dramatic speeches during battle, not actual talking!  The only thing he could think of as casual conversation was how he talked with Spike and Chip, but Elita-1 would probably beat him senseless if he tried that.  One thing he did know: patronizing the femmes was NOT a good thing.  “Er…how are you?”

“Oooooh, other than saving Cybertron single-handedly from Shockwave and his minions with hardly any supplies of energon because you never send us anything despite being on Earth, which we’ve recently learned from Alpha Trion is just LOADED with the stuff…not bad.  And you?  Talked to Megatron about this whole war thing lately?”

“Not precisely.”  Optimus glanced to one side, where Ironhide was carefully removing fungus from his arms (don’t ask), then to the other side, where a stack of energon cubes approximately the size of Devastator sat.  The Dinobots were using them to power a giant lava lamp over in the corner.  Casual conversation, he reminded himself.  “I went to a carwash yesterday.”

Elita-1 stared at him as a sharp snapping sound came from off to the side.  “That’s…nice.”

“It was for a charity,” he added lamely.

“For the humans, right?”  He nodded.  “Let me get this straight,” Elita-1 said slowly.  “You and the Autobots flew off to take a four million year nap, and now you’re sitting around getting soaped up by a bunch of natives, practically swimming in energy.  Meanwhile, we’re fighting for our lives against Shockwave on Cybertron.  Did I get it right?”  He nodded again, and she sighed.  “Things never change.  Didn’t the femmes do all of the work when you WERE here?  Can’t you guys ever take a turn at this?!”

Optimus was glad that he had a face-mask.  Elita-1 was working herself into a hissy-fit, and he knew that he probably deserved it.  He wasn’t quite sure WHY, but he knew he did.  That meant…”Look, I’ve got to go.  The long-distance charges are murder, I’m telling you.”

“No, you’re going to sit here and listen to me for once.  We femmes have worked our gears off for four million years, and now you’re—“  Another snapping sound, louder this time, came from the side, and someone yelped again.  This time the voice was DEFINITELY male.  Elita-1 glanced to one side, then back at Optimus with an obviously fake smile plastered on her face.  “Gee, I’m sorry that it costs so much to call.  We’d help you with the charges, but…we can’t.  Anyway, something just broke, and…Chromia…is kinda hurt.  Hope you call again!  Bye!”  She ended the transmission.

“Bye,” Optimus said to the blank screen.  “She’s so loyal,” he said to Ironhide, who merely peeled another layer of fungus off.

* * * * *

“I’m kinda hurt?” smirked Chromia from another corner of the room; she was grinning and holding up a large gray strip of adhesive, which she promptly went to slam over someone’s face.

“No!” Elita-1 insisted as she stalked over, ripping the piece away.  “He needs to answer me this time!”  She glared at the ‘bot in the pastel corner.  “I TOLD you not to call me at work again!  Optimus nearly saw you!”

“I think he heard him a few times too,” offered Moonracer.  “Any more transmissions coming in?”

The ‘bot at Chromia’s feet shook his head, and Elita-1 copied the motion.  “I got rid of Optimus.  Long distance charges are piling up, he won’t be calling back before…oh, forever.”  She grinned.  “Go on, Moonracer.”

The pastel Autobot femme smiled, and clicked the pastel wall panel.  Slowly the back wall of the base opened away to reveal a much larger room behind it in much darker, forbidding colors.  Decepticon emblems covered nearly every computer monitor, ending at the dividing line between the generic gray of the ‘Con base and the pastels of the ‘Bot femmes base.

“We really need to repaint our side,” said Firestar.  “I’m sick and tired of pastels!”

“Gray is not much better,” offered Shockwave, then yelped highly as Chromia slapped another adhesive on his legs, then ripped it away.  He didn’t twitch, mostly because of the leash around his neck. 

“Did we say you could speak?” demanded Elita-1.  Shockwave shook his head quickly.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” he managed, and Chromia yanked him to his feet. 

“Firestar has a point,” Chromia added.  “I hate this pastel garbage.  Why can’t we at least repaint in colors that are NOT mixed with white all the time?”

“We did get rid of the lace doilies from the last base,” Moonracer reminded her. 

“Yes, and the next step is black.  Maybe some purple…do you think we can take apart some more Sentinels for restraint parts?”  Chromia paused as Shockwave raised his hand meekly.  “What is it, slave?”

“There are only three Sentinel units left, mistress, and none of them fly anymore.”

“Then we’ll have to ask Trion for some supplies,” Elita-1 concluded.  “I’m not asking Optimus for any…but what about Megatron?  Would he be willing to send his loyal servant some more?”

“He has sent us energy,” admitted Shockwave.  And Megatron never did ask why a solitary ‘Con needed so much, or why so often.  He might have been slightly upset to learn that Shockwave was not only sharing with the femmes, but using the energy cubes as barter in strip poker, of which Shockwave always lost.  “But supplies might have to be brought by the Decepticons.”

“Easy enough,” said Moonracer, her fingers on the room panel’s controls.  “We just close this and you ask mighty Megs for some more spare parts.”

“And energy!”  Firestar grinned.  “We haven’t had a game of poker in a few days.”

Chromia nodded, and at Elita-1’s nod, gave her the leash.  Shockwave was yanked to the femme commander’s feet, where he bowed prostate, only stopping in his praise when Chromia started sticking more adhesive to his back and then ceremoniously ripping them free.

“Praise the power of adhesive!” cheered Moonracer.  Shockwave didn’t respond, only curled up more at Elita-1’s feet, continuing his litany and praise of unfailing loyalty to his mistress.  It was very much like the speech he had once given to Megatron (save he had never promised Megatron unflagging loyalty…or the right to beat him senseless with poker cards), only this one he was not laughing internally over.  He meant this one.  Elita-1 was, after all, a much better master/commander/etc than Megatron. 

“Praise the power of the space bridge!” crowed Chromia as the other femmes began gathering supplies for the upcoming poker bonanza.  Bright green and red party streamers were outstretched over the ceiling and support beams, and Firestar and Moonracer had started already with the dart games; pictures of Optimus, Megatron, Ironhide, Starscream, and several others littered the walls.  The first two had the most holes. 

“Yeah, and Megatron STILL thinks that you built it by yourself, Shockwave?”  Elita-1 stepped down from his chest, then nodded, giving him the right to speak.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Is Megatron a fool, Shockwave?”

“More so than Prime, mistress.”

“Hey!” yelled Firestar, from where she and Chromia had started a video game, Who Wants to Kill Prime and Megatron?.  “That’s your boyfriend Shockwave just insulted!”

“True…”  Elita-1 looked down at the purple ‘Con, who shuddered.  “On the other hand, he is right.”  Shockwave looked relieved.  “BUT on the other hand…he did insult Prime!”

“Oooooooooo!” yelled the femmes, and Elita-1 clasped on the very worn handcuffs on the ‘Con, who held out his hand and blaster easily. 

“As punishment, Shockwave…you must crawl around all night tonight!” cried the Autobot femme commander.

“And that’s different from how he gets around every night with us?” asked Chromia.  Firestar shrugged, and put a hole the size of the space bridge in the video Optimus Prime.  Shockwave started crawling after Elita-1.  Moonracer went to get the poker table and cards.

“Please, mistress!”  Shockwave inched along on the floor.  “Please let me look up at your eternal beauty!”

“After four million years, that STILL gets me every time!  Shockwave, you are such a ladies’ mech,” crowed Elita-1 as she sat in Shockwave’s chair on the ‘Con side of the room.  “Hmmm…I think dark gray is really my color.  What do you think, Shockwave?”

“All colors are good on you, mistress.”  Shockwave had managed to crawl to her feet, where he tried curling up, but a sudden snag on his leash brought him short a terrible two inches from her chair.  Since Shockwave could not turn his head, he could not see that the leash had become tangled and stuck on a lever on the space bridge. 

Desperate to lay at his mistress’s feet, Shockwave yanked hard on the leash.  Made of very strong steel and Cybertron alloy, the collar and leash were both works of art, having been forged by Chromia and Elita-1 from some stupid walkie-talkies Alpha Trion had given them.  But they were no match against Shockwave’s yanking, and with a loud groan, the lever snapped off halfway.  Shockwave was freed suddenly, and the ricochet effect insured that he was shoved forward, nearly knocking Elita-1 from her chair. 

“YOU-!!!!!” yelled the Autobot femme commander, leaping to her feet.  Shockwave curled up into a pseudo-fetal position at her feet, nearly on them, and that was when the space bridge gave a loud metallic coughing.  Every ‘bot in the room turned to stare at it and at the sudden amount of black smoke pouring from the broken level and panel control.  Shockwave whimpered as the space bridge’s control panel heaved, the heavy metal piece exploding into a hundred shards, effectively slicing the dart board image of Megatron into tiny fragments.  The control wires and circuits gleamed for a moment, then, forced by some eerie gravity, detonated out from the panel and scattered over the floor.

The robots all stared.  Shockwave whimpered again.

“We broke the space bridge,” he gasped, and that was when the monitor behind Elita-1 began to blink with a message from the Decepticons on Earth.

“Aw, blast.  Hide everything!” Elita-1 shouted.  “Chromia, get the party streamers!  Firestar, take down the dart boards!  Moonracer—the panel!”  The Autobot femmes frantically ripped down the decorations, and Elita-1 began tearing pieces of silver-gray adhesive off of Shockwave.  The Decepticon yelped with each piece, but he was busy untying the collar around his neck.  It finally came free, and the Autobot femme commander shoved him at the control panel as Moonracer dragged the panel separating the Decepticon and Autobot bases closed.  “Answer it, and get rid of whoever it is.  Hide, ladies!”

Shockwave hit the receiving key as the Autobots dove for cover, and Elita-1 ducked out of sight under the console itself.  Starscream appeared on the screen, looking irritated.  That was his normal expression when it came to dealing with the number one suck-up to Megatron. 

“Shockwave!  Megatron wants you to—what’s that on your shoulder?”  Starscream pointed at something on the other Decepticon’s right shoulder.  “That wasn’t there the last time we spoke.”

Shockwave glanced at the silvery-gray piece of adhesive stuck to his shoulder, then down at the Autobot lounging on the floor.  She gestured for him to take it off.  “It’s nothing, Starscream,” he said in the monotone voice he used when dealing with the Decepticons on Earth.  “Merely a piece of adhesive.”  He peeled it off as he spoke, trying not to wince.

The jet stared at the adhesive.  “Is that duct tape?!”

He sneaked another look down at Elita-1, and she shrugged and nodded.  “Uh…yes.  Duct tape is humanity’s only redeeming feature, and I find it invaluable when repairing the Sentinels.  Now,” he changed the subject briskly, “what does mighty Megatron wish of me?”  A muffled snicker came from the side, where Chromia was holding a huge armload of multi-colored party streamers out of sight.  Elita-1 had her hand over her mouth, holding back her own laughter.

Starscream decided that he hadn’t really heard what he’d thought he’d heard.  After all, he’d been in Shockwave’s tower, so he knew that the Decepticon was alone in there.  “We’re sending up another shipment of energon cubes to power the search for the Autobot femmes,” his tone made it clear he thought it was all Shockwave’s fault that the femmes hadn’t been crushed before this, “so Megatron wants you to prepare the space bridge.”

“Blast, blast, BLAST,” Elita-1 muttered.  The space bridge was out of sight, but it was still smoking copiously.  Firestar was using one of the small fires that it had caused to burn up the Megatron dart board.  The Optimus one was already ashes on the floor.

Shockwave could see this all at the edge of his vision.  This was NOT a good thing.  “Ah…yes.  And when should I expect this shipment?” he said without a trace of what he was feeling.

“We’ll signal you when we’re ready,” Starscream answered.  Just then, Chromia squeaked in panic as she lost her grip on one of her streamers.  It swung out behind Shockwave, and Starscream blinked.  It was bright orange, standing out starkly from the blank gray Shockwave had decorated the place in (another sign of the robot’s complete lack of personality, as far as Starscream was concerned).  “And WHAT is THAT?” the jet asked coldly.

Shockwave glanced over his shoulder, and Chromia shrugged helplessly.  Elita-1 hit the mech on the foot to drag his attention back to the irate Air Commander glaring at him via inter-planetary communication technology.  “A party streamer,” he said before he could think about it.

“WHAT?!”

Elita-1 groaned softly to herself, then quietly began a lament about how stupid Shockwave was.  She added a punishment for each stupidity item listed, and the mech winced.  Moonracer and Firestar were gesturing at him with their guns, obviously restraining themselves from just shooting him and getting it over with.  Chromia was banging her head against the wall.

“I knew you were up to something,” Starscream growled, at least as much as possible with a voice like his.  Shockwave tried to look impassive, but the litany of stupidity going on at his feet made him end up looking guilty.  “That’s it—I’m coming up there personally to find out what’s going on!”

“Oh, great,” Elita-1 muttered.  “What else can go wrong?”

“And I’m bringing the other Seekers with me to hunt down the Autobot femmes once and for all!” Starscream added, then ended the transmission abruptly.

“I had to ask.”  She stood up and glared at Shockwave.  He fidgeted nervously.  “YOU are going to pay for this.  You know that, right?”  He nodded quickly.  “Good.  Now…hmmm…well, at least he’s bringing energon with him.”

“We could get them overenergized and send them back,” Moonracer suggested.  “Megatron would never believe anything they said!”

“True.”  Shockwave started to say something, and Elita-1 slapped him.  “Silence, slave!  I didn’t give you permission to speak, now did I?”  The Decepticon fell to his knees and shook his head.  “We might even get lucky; they might not remember anything if we get them drunk enough.  It’ll have to do for a plan, I guess.  Meanwhile, we should clean up—“  Shockwave tugged on her hand, and the femme sighed.  “Yes?”

“Mistress, what about the space bridge?” he asked meekly.

Elita-1 blinked and looked over at it.  Firestar was in the process of using Ironhide’s picture as a torch.  “Oh.  Yeah.  There is that, isn’t there…”  She paused for a long moment to think.  “Call the priest!”

Shockwave flinched.  The femmes cheered.

* * * * *

“I’m telling you,” Starscream was saying, “he’s up to something!”

“You’re paranoid.”  Megatron absently kicked over a building as he surveyed the destruction his Decepticons had wrecked on the landscape.  The Constructicons were playing some game involving lots of dynamite, a minivan, and the Insecticons, and everyone seemed to be having a ball.  Well, except for the humans who were underfoot and screaming constantly, but who cared about them?  The Autobots did, of course, but that just proved the point.  “Shockwave’s loyalty is an example to the rest of the Decepticons.”

The jet turned away and leaned against a billboard sulkily.  “I saw a party streamer.  He even SAID it was a party streamer.  Doesn’t that seem a LITTLE strange to you?”

“I’m sure he had a rational explanation for it, if you had taken the time to listen to it.”  Megatron looked away from the successful explosion the Constructicons had created to glance at his Air Commander, and he start laughing.

Starscream glared at him, completely unaware of the fact that the billboard he was leaning against was an advertisement for Victoria’s Secret AngelWear, and the underwear’s wings made him look…slightly ridiculous.  Megatron couldn’t stop laughing.  “What’s your problem?” the jet demanded.

“You’re standing—blast.”  The Decepticon commander sighed as a group of Autobots drove into sight.  “There goes the neighborhood.”

* * * * *

There came a mighty knock upon the base’s door from the Autobot side.  Shockwave, who was desperately hiding the rest of the darts, stared at it in something close to terror.  Elita-1 and Chromia, who were cleaning up the final bits of streamers, stopped to look at the sound’s origin.

“Open the door, Shockwave!” ordered Elita-1.  “Firestar, is the altar ready?”

Firestar looked up from the large metal table she and Moonracer had dragged in.  “Yes, Elita!”

“Shockwave, I TOLD you to-“  And the door was suddenly opened.  As one, the femmes bowed to the ground.  Shockwave had flung himself on the floor, shaking as the priest entered.

Unlike the others in the room and Cybertron, he was not a Transformer, and hence was much smaller than they were.  His cape, long and lined with gray adhesive, flowed after him, and a very large gray turban rested on his otherwise bald head.  Rolls and rolls of gray adhesive lined from his shoulders to his wrists.  Wearing his usual overalls, the High Priest of Duct Tape was indeed a formidable sight.  He was worshipped.  Worshipped indeed…and feared.  Very feared.

“You summoned me?” asked Sparkplug.  “WHY have you dared to summon the High Priest of Duct Tape?”

“Forgive us, priest,” said Elita-1 from the ground.  “May I stand up?”

“Yes, yes, up with all you heathens,” barked Sparkplug, and the robots stood quickly.  Shockwave sidled behind Chromia, peering out at the priest in open fear.  Sparkplug looked them over calmly, and then extended one arm; a roll of duct tape slipped into his other hand, and he held up the icon of power.  The Transfomers all gasped and bowed.  Shockwave still hid behind Chromia.  On Earth, Sparkplug might have been nothing but an oil rig drone, but on Cybertron, he was the High Priest of Duct Tape.  And without such a device and gift, those ‘bots on Cybertron would have perished long ago.

“Why have you summoned me?” demanded the High Priest, and Elita-1 gestured to the space bridge.

“The space bridge, your holiness,” she said, keeping her optics averted from him.  Sparkplug eyed the machine, then stepped over to it with a professional air.  He stared over the missing controls, and, as if he did not hear the ‘bots gasping and stepping back from the power of adhesive, ripped open the roll, exposing and lifting a six-inch strip of tape. 

“Turn your backs!” he ordered.  “A miracle such as this will blind all but the pure of soul!”  He stopped unrolling the tape in order to insure the robots had turned away.  The femmes were prostate at his feet with their optics off.  Shockwave was still trying to hide behind Chromia. 

“Only the pure of soul can wield such power!” declared the High Priest.  “At least, if you want miracles from it.”  He eyed the small strip of tape on the ground, where Shockwave had dropped it before.  “You have used the holy tape for personal reasons, which is why this curse has happened!”  He paused.  “But you may continue to do so, because this gives me something to do.  Now, someone prepare the sacrifice!”

Moonracer hurried to her feet, keeping her back to the High Priest, and set an energy cube and a signed picture of Prime on the altar.  She quickly set them on fire, and only after the noxious stench of burning energy had finished curling from the altar did the High Priest begin.

Several rolls later, he stood back.  “Heathens!” he bellowed.  “GAZE upon the perfection of your idol and god!  DUCT TAPE!”

The robots turned back to the bridge; duct tape had secured the inside wires and circuits of the space bridge’s control console back into place, and a large amount of the gray adhesive insured that the console stayed in place as well.  The cracked console monitor was now swathed in gray tape, and was blinking with a message.

The robots all cheered.  Moonracer sacrificed an autographed picture of Alpha Trion with Primus on the altar.  Sparkplug nodded and returned a bow to the prostate robots.  “Now, remember your time spent with the duct tape!  Remember and praise it!”

“We will, oh High Priest!” cheered the robots.  “Duct tape is the one true God!”

“Very good,” said Sparkplug.  “Now, some infidel is calling you.”  He gestured to the monitor.  “Keep strong in the face of the unfaithful!  And remember our creed!”

“If you can’t duct it,” cried the robots, Shockwave trembling behind Elita-1, “*BEEP* it!”

The High Priest nodded, extending his hands in blessing, and then, in a flurry of gray holiness, left the building.

“Praise duct tape!” cried Firestar.  “Praise be!”

“There’s the first problem solved,” said Elita-1, and giving Shockwave a Look that promised he would pay for this all dearly later, with interest, added, “Now, girls…here’s the plan.  Chromia, you get our energon cubes and condense them as much as you can.  Firestar, get some glasses.  And Shockwave, get your chassis over to the space bridge to let the Seekers in.”

* * * * *

Perhaps they didn’t have Megatron’s permission to use the space bridge, but then again, he had not denied them access either.  That was Starscream’s argument and he was sticking with it.  Skywarp and Thundercracker, on the other hand, didn’t know the reason they were going to Cybertron.  Usually they would have asked, but when they heard it involved shaming Shockwave, they were all for it. 

“A party streamer?” demanded Skywarp.  “You’re sure about this, Starscream?”

“Everyone thinks Shockwave is such a model Decepticon,” snapped Starscream.  “I KNOW he’s not!  And after this, we’ll have enough proof even for Megatron!”

“Whatever you say,” said Thundercracker listlessly as the bridge activated, and sent them through.

The other two Seekers were not quite certain what to expect.  Truthfully, neither was Starscream.  A very large (very very very large) part of him was hoping that Shockwave would not have cleaned up that streamer…and that there would be much more evidence lying around.  More streamers, perhaps.  Precisely what else, Starscream did not know.

But the base looked normal.  Shockwave was standing by the bridge’s controls, watching them without much interest.  “Where is the energy, Starscream?”

Thundercracker pushed the large cart forward; it was laden down with enough energy to keep the Decepticon base on Earth filled for some time.  On Cybertron, it might last another two million years.  “Here you have it, Shockwave.” 

The purple ‘Con nodded.  “Much gratitude to Megatron for thinking of Cybertron’s need of energy-“

“Oh, cram it, Shockwave,” snapped Starscream.  “I KNOW you’re up to something!” 

Shockwave stared back at him calmly; the femmes were on the other side of the panel now, safely hidden away until they heard the first sounds of the three energy drinks on the table being drunk.  Shockwave picked up two of them carefully, insuring they were the correct ones, and offered one to each Seeker, leaving Starscream from this choice offering.

“What’s this?” demanded the irritated air commander.  “You already have energy here!”

The other two Seekers accepted the drinks, mostly because Shockwave couldn’t hold them both in his one hand for long before he split them on the ‘bots.  “What are these?” Skywarp asked.

“Special forms of energy,” Shockwave said, and that certainly was the truth.  He himself would have declined them until Chromia forced him to drink one; he had no doubt the femme knew what she was doing when she concocted the very, very powerful and potent drinks.  “They limit the intake required due to concentration.”

The two Seekers exchanged a glance, and then drank up.  Starscream eyed Shockwave, then snatched up the normal energy and downed it himself.  “This doesn’t seem so special,” he complained, and Shockwave blinked.

“Give it time,” he advised, and watched the other Seekers.  They had downed theirs very fast, and their glasses, which they tried to set on the table, instead crashed on the floor, shattering and spreading small bits of energy on the ground.  Starscream stared at them in surprise, and that was when the room panel began to giggle.  Shockwave winced despite himself; he was very used to that tone of voice from Chromia, and it never meant anything good.  

“Who was that?” Starscream snapped at Shockwave.  “What’s with you guys?” he asked the two jets, who were swaying as they smiled at the ceiling.  “And what happened to the space bridge, anyway?!”  He pointed at the duct-taped space bridge controls.

“Screamer, you need to relax,” Skywarp chirped, one of his optics blinking on and off rapidly as he grinned grin widely.  “Have a drink.  Put your feet up.”

“Yeah,” Thundercracker seconded right before he lost his balance and sat down suddenly.  He began giggling.

Starscream stared at them both.  “What--?”  One of the wall panels slid to the side, and the jet whipped around to see Elita-1 leaning against the wall.  “You!  Decepticons, atta—AAAA!!”

Shockwave finished tying Starscream’s hands together, then stepped off of his chest so the jet could get back to his feet.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said in a cheerful voice as he tossed Starscream’s guns across the room.

The voice alone was enough to stun Starscream.  This was SHOCKWAVE.  Personality was an option in this mech’s opinion…at least as far as anyone had been able to determine.  “What is going on?” he asked in a dazed kind of voice as Chromia bounced around Elita-1 and grinned at Skywarp and Thundercracker.  The two jets were walking carefully like the floor wasn’t stable beneath their feet, and they had goofy expressions on their faces.  Chromia studied them for a moment before giving the Autobot femme leader a thumbs-up sign, apparently satisfied with their reactions to the drinks.  Firestar and Moonracer took them by the hands and led them into the pastel room on the other side of the concealing panel, sitting them down and pouring them each another drink.  Thundercracker got about half-way through his before he lost his grip on the glass; Skywarp did a spit-take with his last mouthful at the mournful look on his fellow jet’s face when Thundercracker looked down at the spilled energon.

“Did I do that?” Thundercracker asked sadly.

“Shockwave!” Elita-1 said in a voice like a whip-crack.  “Go clean that up.  Now!”  She smiled at Starscream as the other Decepticon let him go immediately and ran to go find some cleaning supplies.  “Hello, Starscream.”

“I knew he was up to something,” the Air Commander said grimly.  He twisted his wrists futilely against the bonds around them as the female Autobot commander walked closer.  “Stay away from me, Autobot,” he warned a bit shrilly.  She merely smiled and kept walking.  He backed away until his wings hit the wall, his tied hands held up defensively.  “Let me go!”

“Oh, we will,” she assured him.

“You…will?”  Uncertain, he looked over her shoulder to where Chromia, Firestar, and Moonracer had started a poker game with Thundercracker and Skywarp, encouraging the jets to drink some more as they played.  “What is going ON?” he whispered.

Elita-1’s smile turned evil.  “I said that we were going to let you go…but only after we make sure those two,” she jerked her thumb at Thundercracker and Skywarp, “are too drunk to see straight.  You, on the other hand, are going to be painfully sober.  Overenergized friends in tow, you’ll go right back to Megatron.  I wish I could see the expression on his face while you try and explain this.”  Starscream’s optics went wide as he imagined it, and the Autobot femme laughed.  “This is turning out to be more fun than I had expected,” she added approvingly.

Chromia looked up from her winning hand and smirked when she heard that.  “I already called the others to tell them we’re having a party.”

“Others?” Thundercracker asked, then looked down at his cards in dismay.  “I don’t think I can deal with more people to lose to…what was I talking about?”

“How you were going to pay your bet,” Chromia told him. 

“But we don’t have any credits on us,” Skywarp wailed.  His cards were even worse than Thundercracker’s were.  “Can’t you just forgive the debts?” he asked hopefully.

“We don’t do that,” Firestar said.  “There are other ways of payment, though,” she assured the two jets when their faces fell.  “Ain’t that right, Shockwave?”

Shockwave paused in the doorway nervously.  “Uh…right,” he said uncertainly, wondering what he had just agreed to.

“Why?” Starscream asked the only other sober Decepticon desperately.  “Of all Decepticons, why have YOU become a traitor?!  You’ve sold us out to—to—“  He counted quickly.  “Four Autobots!  Why?!”

Elita-1 shrugged.  “Who said there were only four?  The others are on their way.  Oh, and we told them to bring whatever Decepticons they had lying around.  Just an informal little party.”  She grinned again.  “Like always, right?”

“Right!” Shockwave agreed enthusiastically.  The poker-players cheered, too.

“You mean there are other Decepticons who’ve turned traitor?”  The very idea melted Starscream’s shock into indignant rage.  He’d backstab Megatron even when the Decepticon leader’s back wasn’t turned, but the idea of betraying the Decepticon cause was completely disgusting to him.

“Actually, it’s not that we’re traitors or anything,” Shockwave said thoughtfully as he knelt by the spilled energon and began to clean it up.  “It’s more like that after half a millennia, the Decepticons and Autobots here on Cybertron finally just sat down and decided to end the war.  We’ve been getting along fine ever since.  It’s been great, really.”

“Shut up, Shockwave!” Chromia snapped.  “Did anyone give you permission to speak?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” the Decepticon immediately squealed.  “Forgive me, mistress!”  He bent to his work.

Starscream stared, then decided the kneeling Decepticon was just too weird to try and talk to.  That left Elita-1.  “Why didn’t anyone ever tell Megatron about this?!” he asked her.  “If the war’s ended on Cybertron, then…then…”

Shockwave laughed despite himself, stopping in his work to look up at the jet.  “Do you really think that we wanted HIM to come back and screw everything up?  Primus alive, it’s been one huge party ever since we hammered out the peace agreement!”

“Yeah!” Firestar put in.  “And shut up, Shockwave.  Anyway, we really had to scramble to put up these base things.”  She waved randomly at their surroundings.  “That’s about when we found out Alpha Trion’s been hiding in the basement all these years, and since he’s such a stiff-necked old retro-rat…and between him, Megatron, and Prime…well, it was just easier to act like the war was still going on.  Mostly, though, we party.  It’s even more fun when you guys send us free energon for the ‘war effort’.”

“Energon?” Skywarp asked as he laid another losing hand down.

“Have some more,” Chromia said as she chalked up another point for herself.

“But—but—“ Starscream stammered, “You won’t get away with this!”

The Autobot femmes and Shockwave looked at each other, then at the jet.  “Why NOT?” Moonracer asked.  “We’ve been partying for three and a half million years; why stop now?”  The others nodded agreement.  Starscream looked like he wanted to explode with anger.

“Besides, the High Priest said we could,” Chromia added, and they all nodded again.

That broke through Starscream’s fury.  “Huh?  What High Priest?”

“You know.  The High Priest.”  Starscream looked at Elita-1 blankly.  “Oh, come on.  You guys sent him to us; you’ve got to know who he is!”  The jet shook his head silently, and the femme sighed.  “He’s from Earth originally.”  She paused to see if that had reminded him of anyone, but Starscream kept shaking his head. “He came through the space bridge bearing the holy relics, which transformed him from being a simple Earthling into the sacred servant of…of…”  She hesitated, then leaned forward to whisper, “Duct Tape.”

“What?!  Duct tape?  We never sent anyone over with duct tape!  Who in Primus’ name are you TALKING about?!” Starscream demanded.

“Sparkplug,” Elita-1 whispered, and the others all cringed.  Well, except for Thundercracker and Skywarp, but that was probably because they were musing over what Chromia had told them she expected as payment.  “The High Priest of Duct Tape.”

“Sparkplug.”  Starscream wondered vaguely if he was going insane or if the world had beaten him to it already.  “The Autobot’s pet human.  Figures.”

“Shhhh!”  The femme tried to hush him, looking over her shoulder nervously.  “We’ve interrupted him once today!  We dare not disturb him again!”

“What’s he gonna do?” the jet asked sarcastically.  “Hit your ankles?  I can’t BELIEVE this.  Megatron’s going to kill you like the traitor you are,” he said to Shockwave.  Taking a step forward, he used his tied hands to shove Elita-1 to one side.  “Skywarp!  Thundercracker!”

The two jets saluted sloppily.  “Am I Thundercracker, or are you?” Thundercracker asked Skywarp.

“I don’t know,” Skywarp replied.  “Do you think it matters?”

“It might clear things up a bit,” the other jet said.  “Right now I want to hit Thundercracker for gambling me so deep into debt, and it’d help if I knew which one of us was Thundercracker.”

“Ooooh,” Skywarp said, enlightened.  “Well, if you’re the one in debt, then you’re probably Thundercracker.”

“Thanks,” Thundercracker said, and then he punched himself in the face.

“That must have hurt,” Chromia said mildly.

His vague plan of escape collapsed, and Starscream sat down where he was.  “I give up,” he mumbled as he stared at the floor.  “Do your worst, Autobot,” he told the floor.  “It can’t be much weirder than what’s already happened.”

Shockwave crawled into his line of sight (which was the floor).  “Mistress, I’ve finished cleaning,” he said, and Starscream wasn’t even surprised when Chromia walked over and stuck a piece of silver-gray tape to the other Decepticon’s back.  Shockwave yelped as the Autobot ripped it back off, and Elita-1 backhanded him. 

“Go get your leash,” she ordered the groveling mech.  “Let’s get this party started!  You two,” she pointed at Thundercracker and Skywarp, who were now being supported by Firestar and Moonracer, “get in the space bridge.  You,” she prodded Starscream with a foot, “get in there with them.”

He listlessly let himself be dragged into the space bridge by Chromia.  On one hand, he was elated to know that his suspicions were confirmed; Shockwave HAD been up to something.  On the other hand…the other two Seekers were overenergized and shoving each other while giggling madly, the Autobot femmes were waving at him cheerfully, Shockwave was polishing Elita-1’s feet, and his hands were tied.  Even as he watched the door opened, and a Decepticon he didn’t know walked in with an Autobot femme on his arm. 

Starscream sighed.  There was no way in the Pit that Megatron was going to believe a word of what had happened.

* * * * *

“Let me get this straight,” Megatron was saying a few minutes later.  Behind him, Soundwave was staring at the two very drunk Seekers, who had collapsed on the ground, giggling and punching each other.  Rumble and Frenzy were watching them warily.  “The war on Cybertron is over, and Shockwave is allied with the Autobot femmes.”

“Yes!” crowed Starscream, who was nearly shaking with rage.  “That party streamer I saw was from one of their parties!”  He waved a hand furiously at the other Seekers.  “And the femmes got them DRUNK!  Look at them!”

“Are you sure I’m Skywarp?” asked Skywarp.

“Um….maybe you’re Starscream?” offered Thundercracker.  The tapes stared at them, then hid behind Soundwave.  “You kinda got his pointy head…”

“They’re overcharged, certainly,” admitted Megatron, and turned a crimson gaze onto his air commander.  “You took my Seekers on an UNAUTHORIZED space bridge trip to find out some secret from Shockwave, when I just received a message from him that the energy we sent has been received graciously.”

“You’re fueling Autobot PARTIES!” screamed Starscream.  He knew it was a lost cause, but the very idea of that traitor Shockwave getting away with this….for nearly four million years, going on a bender, having parties with the enemy!  “Shockwave is NOT as loyal as you think!  When I saw him, he was bowing and groveling to Elita-1!”

“Starscream-“

“My head’s not pointy!” wailed Skywarp, feeling it over.  “It DOES feel like a kitty, though…”

“Ravage!” cheered Thundercracker.  Soundwave blinked.  His tapes held on tighter to the back of his legs.

“The war has been over on Cybertron for over three million YEARS!” screeched Starscream.  “The Decepticons and Autobots have an ALLIANCE!  They’ve been using the space bridge for parties and getting drunk and we keep SENDING them energy!”  He pointed furiously at the other Seekers; they stared at his hand, then collapsed on their backs with giggles.  “THOSE TWO got drunk!  Shockwave overcharged them!  And they were playing cards with the Autobots!”

“Starscream-!”

“Kitty!” cried the Seekers as Ravage wandered into the room.

“And you keep SENDING them supplies!  You think Shockwave is so loyal, he was bowing to Elita-1!  And calling all the femmes mistress!  He was cleaning up split energon and polishing Elita’s FEET!  Wearing a LEASH!”

“STARSCREAM!” bellowed Megatron.  Soundwave had given up trying to move the Seekers, who had spotted Ravage and were eagerly trying to chase him by crawling after him.  Rumble and Frenzy had fled, and Ravage was sitting on a high shelf, spitting and hissing as Soundwave took him down and away from the Seekers.  Starscream was stunned silent for a moment, which was all Megatron needed.  “You will cease your pointless chattering, get Skywarp and Thundercracker to the repair bay, and SHUT UP about Shockwave and your obsessive paranoia!  If I hear another WORD about any of these stupidities, you will suffer!”

Starscream stood silent for a moment, too enraged to speak.  Then he spun around, stalking out from the room.  As he passed, he nearly tripped over the other Seekers, who then managed to climb to their feet, and cling to Soundwave.  The large blue ‘Con was trying desperately to get them off, but the Seekers were adamant about hugging onto him.

Starscream took one last look around the room.  Megatron was trying to help Soundwave get the Seekers off his legs; Skywarp and Thundercracker were cheering about cards, debts, and Ravage’s head and fur, and Soundwave’s tapes had all fled. 

They hadn’t believed him.  Somehow Starscream was not surprised…but it didn’t help his temper any.  “Shockwave will pay for this,” he snarled, and left.

* * * * *

“Elita-1!” Optimus said eagerly.  “In honor of how bravely you’ve fought for the Autobots all these years, we on Earth have decided to do something for you all.”

Elita-1 looked past him to the huge pile of energon cubes in the background.  “Really?” she asked hopefully.

The Autobot leader held up a square of paper.  “We all signed a Thank-You card for you!  Even Ironhide!”

She blinked.  “Why is that so special?”

He looked to the side, where a giant fungus-covered statue in the shape of Ironhide sat.  “Don’t ask.  But we thought that we’d show our appreciation through this card.”

“Oh.”

“We’re not quite sure how to get it to you, but we’ll figure it out someday.  Meanwhile, would you mind sacrificing yourself by attacking Shockwave and destroying the space bridge?  It would really help us.”  Optimus waved.  “Talk to you later!”  And he ended the transmission.

Elita-1 hung her head.  “I can’t believe I once was in love with him.  Was I really that stupid?” she asked Shockwave. 

He stopped polishing her feet long enough to give her an adoring look.  “Never, mistress!”

“Shut up!” she screamed at him.  “I did NOT give you permission to speak, now did I?!”

“I’m sorry, mistress!”

“SHUT UP!  Chromia!  Bring me duct tape!”

Shockwave whimpered and clung to Elita-1’s foot.  They both looked at the space bridge in surprise when it activated suddenly, but then the Autobot femme shook the Decepticon loose.  “How dare you activate that without my permission!”

“But I didn’t—“ he began pitifully.

“Quiet, you!”  She glanced around the room, taking in the party streamers and dart boards.  The offline party-goers scattered on the floor could be shoved into the Autobot half of the room and the separator put in place, but not before the space bridge delivered their visitor.  “Well, I guess there’s no hope for it.”  Turning to face the space bridge, she waited.

Starscream stepped out of it.  He looked between the defiant femme facing him and the Decepticon clinging to her foot, then raised his hand.  In it, there was a roll of…duct tape?

* * * * *

“Megatron,” announced Soundwave some time later.  He was shaken, despite his usual demeanor.  Seeing the Seekers in that state had unnerved him.  Not to mention when they saw the Insecticons and suddenly believed they were covered in bugs…  His tapes were now safely inside him, though Ravage might possibly never trust anyone save Soundwave to touch him again, not after Skywarp had tried to stick the panther on his head…

“What is it, Soundwave?” asked Megatron wearily.

“Incoming message from Cybertron.”

“Patch me through.”  A monitor lit with the gray interior of Shockwave’s tower.  The purple ‘Con stared back at Megatron balefully, and beside him was-

“STARSCREAM!” erupted Megatron.  “WHAT are you doing on CYBERTRON!”

“It was a mistake!” shrilled the air commander; he looked as happy as Shockwave.  They both glared at each other for a moment, though Starscream’s fury was more evident if only because his facial revealed so.  “I came back to get my guns, after Elita-1-“

“Mighty Megatron!” interrupted Shockwave.  “Starscream is delirious-“

“SHUT UP!” screeched Starscream. 

Megatron could only sit and shake with rage.  “Tell me something I DON’T know, Shockwave.”  He forced himself to calm down.  On the other side of the room, Dirge began to inch away.  “Starscream, get your worthless chassis back here NOW!”

“That is the other thing,” said Shockwave morosely. 

“The space bridge is broken!” snarled Starscream.  “When I came through, it started smoking!”

Dirge fled the room.

“What.”  Megatron’s voice was cold and flat. 

“It is broken,” echoed Shockwave.  “It can be repaired, mighty Megatron, but it will take some time.  The energon you sent will be put to use mostly in repairing the bridge.”

“Starscream,” said Megatron flatly, “when you come back, this is it.  You are a CORPSE.”

“I can’t wait!” shrilled the air commander, glaring toxin at Shockwave.  “Anything to get me away from this skidplate kisser!”

“A CORPSE!” lashed Megatron, and the transmission ended.  He sat still for several minutes, too furious to speak or move.  Soundwave wisely was silent, though he wondered if this might not be a mixed blessing.  Perhaps Starscream could learn loyalty from Shockwave.  It was an idea.

* * * * *

Starscream stared at the blank monitor, then at the trashed space bridge.  It had been damaged, and it had started smoking after he had used it last.  That much was true.  But he had an idea he was never going to be a corpse.  At least not in the way Megatron planned.

Shockwave turned to face him.  “Skidplate kisser?”

“I never said whose plate,” Starscream said, and then broke into a grin, eyeing the empty monitor, the shattered bridge, perhaps beyond repair.  At least for a while.  “…what do you think?”

Shockwave grinned.  “I think it worked.”

The two mechs grinned widely, then slapped high fives.  “YES!”

“Are you two quite done?” Elita-1 asked impatiently.  Shockwave immediately rushed over to kneel at her feet.  “After everything I’ve done for you,” she informed Starscream, “you just remember that you owe me BIG time.”

“I won’t forget,” he promised her. 

She eyed him for a moment more, then nodded sharply.  “Then I suppose I should tell you the news.”  Starscream stared at her eagerly, and she finally broke into a grin.  “After many rituals, sacrifices, and energon cubes, we reached an agreement.  You don’t go back to Megatron, and…”  Elita-1 turned and went to her knees.  “…the High Priest will take you as his Acolyte.”

Sparkplug walked into the room majestically, and Shockwave tried to hide behind Elita-1.  “Starscream!” the duct-tape-turbaned human proclaimed as Starscream knelt before him.  “From this moment forth, you are one with the sacred Duct Tape.  You will learn the secrets and mysteries, and you, too, will perform miracles.  Together we will rebuild Cybertron, bringing about the Golden Age of Duct Tape!  Will you dedicate your life to the Duct Tape?”  The jet nodded, and Sparkplug produced a giant turban of duct tape from somewhere.  “Then take this, and let it be known that Starscream is now the Acolyte of Duct Tape!”

“Duct Tape Forever!” Starscream shouted.

And it was so.