Fanart and Original Art

The native calendar year is 2004. About two decades have passed since the Decepticons and Autobots were awoken from their eternal sleep-like stasis and greeted by Teletraan 1 on the alien planet known as ‘Earth’. Plenty of both beneficial and unfortunate events have occurred over those past 20 years for each of the Cybertronian factions, however; misfortune has particularly latched itself onto the Decepticons.

Misfortune which came in the form of:

Recurrent failure in replenishing their quickly dwindling energon reserves,

The inability to restock crucial life-saving medical supplies and- 

A sharp rise in petty infighting with a…certain winged individual (who shall not have his name sullied by appearing in this document). 

These few yet influential forms of the Decepticon’s misfortune have caused an overwhelming rise in frustration, an overall loss of morale and the wavering loyalty in Megatron’s once great, feared army. Desperate war criminals did not see defection as cowardly or as the deplorable desertion it was-- not anymore. 

Instead, they saw it a lot more like a full-sized serving of clean, refined energon every night, guaranteed survival at the low cost of serving under their rival faction’s insignia and sometimes, likely in some peculiar religion-born sense of crushing guilt, some defecting members of the Decepticons even saw defection as a chance to repent and atone for the wrongdoings that've led them to this life stuck on a mudball lightyears away from their true home of Cybertron. Because of course spreading the propaganda of and serving an optimistic yet simultaneously tragic Prime was certainly going to erase all that past murdering, kidnapping, torturing along with all those other unspeakable, grotesque, vile things they've done their whole lives. That's exactly how it works.

Not.

 ‘Unfortunately’ for those spontaneous zealots and cowardly deserters alike, Prowl and Red Alert are very cautious, paranoid mechanisms. Due to the suspicious number of Decepticon defectors seeking asylum and atonement alike, the Autobots didn't take long to become weary and close their doors, now heavily limiting their assistance until a more “sustainable solution or proper processing procedure” is implemented. Which, in Autobot, meant something along the lines of ‘We aren't taking all you ‘Cons in just because you suddenly came on hard times.’. Those deserting mechanisms that are locked out now had absolutely nowhere to call their residence because they certainly weren't welcomed back to the Victory after showing that sort of weakness and disloyalty. 

Though, before the Autobot’s doors did end up officially closing, the Prime’s soft spark had allowed a servo-full of the first, most unreliable, sniveling, good-for-nothing, pathetic, traitorous, incompetent…individuals into their care. They aren’t worth mentioning by designation right now, though. 

On the Victory, those who had dared not to defy or betray their faction and its dearest leader were regretfully no better-off than their deserter counterparts. As mentioned before, the Decepticon’s supplies, morale, and reserves had been poor. Now, it has become even harder to support those remaining members. There are still rations, they’re just distributed biweekly now. There are still remaining medical supplies, it's just usually reserved for the more… indispensable of the ranks. As for the moral and infighting- well, when wasn’t there issues with any of that? 

Admittedly, the remaining Decepticons have become more selfish, opportunistic and ravenous and now, with their fellow survivalists quickly becoming competition for much needed resources, they might as well be beasts that belong to no faction at all. 

Most of the soldiers have become nearly feral from self preservation and desperation, however; there was still a very slim few who retained their sanity and civility through these hardships. Those steadfast, intelligent, strong-willed individuals happen to currently be in the war room meeting over survival projections for the umpteenth time this deca-cycle…which Shockwave has decided to take point in presenting. Just as he always does.

“As displayed in the data presented before us; Soundwave’s spy bots have once again reported that any rations that are being collected by our remaining forces are being hoarded, not immediately consumed or added to the reserves to be redistributed. The majority of the Decepticon armada has become nothing more than a collection of starving, paranoid mechanisms; a result of internal theft, which is at an all-time high, and uncertainty of when another ration will come–” 

This report, one that barely differs from the many that have been given in the multitude of meetings prior, bores even the most stoic of officers to no end. 

“If we can't find a way to replenish our supplies very, very soon, there will be no Decepticon armada to save, let alone scraps to recycle or put into other use–” 

It's strange, how the cyclops’ voice is so nearly soothing… if it hadn’t lacked emotion the way it did and dragged on relentlessly for minutes uninterrupted, that is. In the very beginning, these meetings were continuously paused and restarted thanks to questions, arguments, and ideas being shared, but now? It was as if the others who remained questionably sane in this room were hoping that the lobotomized purple mech on the massive communications display would soon talk himself offline or perhaps they themselves decided that it wasn't worth their own scarce energy to add to the conversation anymore. The sooner the monologue ended, the sooner everyone could get back to staring out the port windows and watch the walls rust over in their habsuites.

In the comfort of their own solitude. Out of the optics of those looking for someone to blame this massive mess on…

AUTHOR NOTES

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This is honestly like my second ever fanfic ever written and the last one was done on good ole FanFiction.net back in 2013- then promptly deleted after somebody read said fanfic and left a kind comment with constructive criticism which mortified me because I had not anticipated anyone actually READ the romeo and juliet type OOC MegaStar fanfic i posted.... Anyways. I'll work on small installments of this story! Its meant to be just a feel good story (with Starscream? you say, i know...) that is just meant to fill the loving family hole i have in my glass little heart. Hopefully this isnt just self indulgant but im totally prepared for it to be XD!!

yours?,

Thundercracker:

Alt Mode: SU-30

He's the tallest, the heaviest and hes also got the most ammunition out of the trine. TC isn't really much of an acrobatic flyer but what he lacks in speed and agility, he makes up for in durability. A true heavy-duty war machine.

Skywarp:

Alt Mode: F-16

He's the shortest and the lightest of the trine. His durability is not his strong suit, but he keeps himself out of harm's way via his warping ability and his agility. Skywarp is perfect for stealth missions and can fly circles around just about anyone (minus Starscream).

Starscream:

Alt Mode: F-15 Eagle