of madness and revelations

[Deleted]

Characters: Dreadwing, @cyclonus
Location: A canyon somewhere in Nevada
Content Warnings: N/A
Plot Summary: Dreadwing returns to the site of his brother's stasis pod in search of answers, and perhaps finds more than he bargains for.

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He came under the cover of night. There was less chance that a Decepticon patrol might spot him, however unlikely they would pass over this site; though he knew Megatron would surely have sent the armada out to hunt him down, Dreadwing doubted that his former Lord and Master would expect him to come back here. Dreadwing had not expected to see this place again. Beneath him, the arid canyon landscape zipped by, seemingly unchanged even despite the months that had passed by since he had last made this trip, but he needed to know. He needed to reassure himself, to have solid proof, that he was not going mad.

His brother, the twin of his spark, Skyquake, had disappeared shortly after their failed mission to retrieve the Tox-En from the bottom of the sea, and though he had reported his absence repeatedly, Lord Megatron had not cared. To make matters worse, each time he’d asked another crew member upon The Nemesis of his brother, he received blank looks and confused stares, as if Skyquake had not even existed. Some expressed surprise that Skyquake had been called to serve their master. Others expressed condolences for his loss at Autobot hands. Finally, Megatron had lost patience with him and accused him of blaming his sleeping brother for his own failure.

Skyquake was not sleeping, nor had he become one with the Allspark. Dreadwing knew it to be true within his very spark, because he could feel his brother’s presence across their shared bond, however faint, and he had memories of awakening his brother from his sentinel’s slumber himself. THe universe, however, seemed to think otherwise, and Dreadwing was beginning to wonder if he’d lost his processor. What was wrong with the world, if it thought his twin was dead or sleeping? What was wrong with him, if he did not know so?

Finally, he reached the place he sought. He transformed and landed with little flair upon the canyon floor, and cast his gaze upon the solid cliff wall that surely would hold the answers he needed so desperately. It did not take him long to find it: there before him was the stasis pod that had kept Skyquake in his sentinel’s slumber, stationed to guard over the energon reserves of this world.

It was open.

So he had been here, and he had awakened Skyquake. An odd sort of relief thrummed through him then, a kind of relief he had not felt for many, many years. 'Skyquake was here, and I did awaken him,’ he thought to himself, staring agape at the empty pod with a most unbecoming expression. Which now raised the question… Where was his twin brother? When he reached through the bond they shared through their split spark, he could feel that Skyquake was alive - and yet couldn’t, almost as if he were blocked from his brother by some unknown force.

With an exhaled breath, Dreadwing fell to his knees. He would have to take one step at a time. Staring now at the proof of his brother’s awakening, he knew he had not gone mad after all, and that was a bigger blessing than he cared to admit.

So overcome with his relief, foolish Dreadwing, for once, had failed to keep his guard up.

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The night sky stretched endlessly above him as the winds whipped across his frame. Cyclonus flew low. Officially, he was out patrolling for any Autobot presence or other Cybertronian presence. Not that he thought he would find anything. Nor did he actually intend to find anything.

For, unofficially, this was his excuse to pay his respects to – from what he surmised – a recently deceased comrade. Although, whether or not he had perished was a little vague, but it was the gist of what he had gathered. Skyquake. Cyclonus had never met the warrior in person, but that did not matter to him. While he had some spare time before Megatron’s next assignment for him, he would conduct rites to honor the dead.

It was then that he noted something odd as he flew toward where Skyquake’s stasis pod was reportedly located. Cyclonus slowed, transforming and stalking slowly up to the edge of the canyon cliff. He peered down. He was not alone in visiting with the dead. That was Dreadwing. Of that, Cyclonus was more than certain.

A traitor.

Cyclonus’s fists clenched tightly. The only outward sign of his indignation. So, he had come to visit the last remnants of his brother’s presence. Part of Cyclonus felt loathe to disturb the scene, but he could not idly stand by as a traitor stood before him. It seemed as if he was unnoticed as of yet. Cyclonus’s optics narrowed.

Dropping down, Cyclonus softened his landing with the robot mode flight apparatus built into his frame. He still made certain to land with a resounding thud, intentionally alerting Dreadwing to his presence. His honor as a warrior demanded that he not strike an unsuspecting foe as some – like Starscream – might.

“Dreadwing,” Cyclonus called out, his voice low and edged with menace, “How dare you come here.” He stalked forward a few steps, hand on the hilt of his sword. “This is no place for a traitor.”

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Here before him was proof that Skyquake was not still in stasis, and proof that he had not imagined their time together upon this world. He felt a profound sort of relief at the revelation, for it meant he had not gone mad… though it made him wonder just what sort of game Megatron and his Decepticons were trying to play. Was there a conspiracy against him? Dreadwing shook his head immediately to banish the thought; he was not important enough for there to be some sort of universal conspiracy to trick him into questioning his reality.

A small voice reminded him that he still had no physical proof of Skyquake’s demise, but he was not so concerned about it; he could feel Skyquake still, and surely if his twin’s spark had been snuffed out he would have felt it by now. ‘If he were dead, I would know,’ he thought to himself, and was glad to feel the truth of it settle into his very being.

A thud behind him alerted him to the presence of another, and Dreadwing rose quickly to face the newcomer. In his haste to learn the truth it appeared that he had become sloppy, and he realized that his lack of attention to his surroundings could certainly cost him.

He knew of this mech by reputation only, but Dreadwing would not underestimate him: This was Cyclonus, a mech whose honor equalled that of his prowess upon the battlefield, and he knew the only reason why the warrior’s blade wasn’t buried within his spark now was due to a strong sense of integrity. Perhaps, if things were different, they would have found common ground in this.

“I might say the same,” He replied, his voice even but tinged with an edge. “This place is the site of my brother’s slumber. If anyone has a right to it, it would be me.”

He was hyper-aware of his lack of a weapon. Certainly, he had his bombs and he had his cannon, but his honor - what little of it was left - dictated that they were not to be deployed in this situation. The other took threatening steps toward him, but Dreadwing stood his ground, meeting the menacing gaze with a cool disinterested look, his posture loose and unconcerned… but ready to shift into a fighting stance in a nanosecond’s notice. “And I am hardly a traitor - not anymore. For too long I had been tricked into betraying my ideals, but no longer!”

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“This is the memorial of a loyal Decepticon who fell in the line of duty,” Cyclonus retorted coldly, halting his forward progress. “The moment you forsook the Decepticons, you gave up your claims, your rights, and your ties. You bring shame to your brother’s memory.”

Noting the other Cybertronian’s loose stance, Cyclonus’s hand fell tentatively away from the hilt of his blade. Was he unarmed? No, that could not be. Their kind were each an army unto themselves. Living arsenals, especially those who had known combat. But still Dreadwing did not draw a weapon to defend himself.

What was his goal? Was it surrender?

Ah. Cyclonus scowled as the answer came to him in the form of Dreadwing’s nonsense. No, it did not appear to be surrender. In which case, it was his duty to bring Dreadwing to justice for his liege. His hand fell back on the hilt of his blade, but something caused him to hesitate. Something in Dreadwing’s words.

“Tricked?” Cyclonus asked, his hand instead gesturing accusatorily at Dreadwing, “What do you mean? The Decepticons are a righteous revolution against what was a corrupt society and now against those who seek to preserve it. That has never changed.”

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Dreadwing’s voice took on an acerbic tone at Cyclonus’s equally cold retort, but never the less held his ground. “A memorial it would be if my brother’s remains were indeed interred here, but as you can see, the stasis pod is empty.” Of course, if his twin had met his demise, there was always the possibility that Skyquake’s body laid elsewhere... but he knew in his spark that his twin had not joined the Allspark.

He maintained a neutral posture, unwilling to be cowed by Cyclonus’ intimidation attempts and unwilling to be provoked until absolutely necessary. Certainly he was not unarmed: he had numerous bombs within subspace and an ion cannon that could be drawn at a nanoklik’s notice. It would be dishonorable to use them against a bot who wielded but a blade though he was not so foolish as to think Cyclonus did not pack his own firepower.

At least Cyclonus had proven himself honorable enough not to strike down another when their back was turned. Though he could feel the displeasure rolling off the other bot, Dreadwing also recognised the same principles within Cyclonus that he too held.

“The Cause may have started out upon a righteous path, but it is no longer a revolution. Have you not noticed that it has degenerated into the very same poisonous totalitarianism that we had rebelled against? That the Cause strips bots of their rights and freedoms just as the previous regime before it?” The heavy seeker’s wings became taut with his passion, his spark pounding within his chest. “Do you not see that Megatron himself has ceased to resemble the inspirational mech who mobilized millions? He perpetuates the same oppression from which we sought to escape, and I will no longer be complicit in it!”

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“I am not blind,” Cyclonus growled lowly. “I had been informed of his demise and saw fit to visit the last traces of a warrior renowned for his loyalty and courage. His stasis pod is as good as any to serve as such. Indeed, as a place of sleep, the false death, it is most fitting.”

Cyclonus watched Dreadwing’s stance carefully while meeting his optics. He seemed neutral. Neither cowed nor defiant. Which meant that he did not intend to oppose him at the moment. Cyclonus straightened, his own hostility fading slightly as his hands fell to his sides. He admitted to some curiosity as to why a mech with loyalty said to be as staunch as his own would turn against his master.

To Dreadwing’s words, Cyclonus’s faceplate darkened, his expression growing inscrutable. Having stayed at Galvatron’s side even in the depths of his madness, Cyclonus wondered. Despite his madness, his former master never strayed from his convictions. From his path. Had he lost sight of them for a moment, Cyclonus would have…Well. He would not have known.

“Is it not still peace through tyranny?” Cyclonus posed, “From the beginning, we all agreed to as much.” His face grew stoic as he met Dreadwing’s optics. “No matter how much Megatron may change, it is irrelevant so long as he is devoted to his purpose. As our master changes, so must we as servants to a master.”

And yet, Cyclonus felt a vague sense of hollowness in his own words. He could not match the passion in Dreadwing’s words. A fact that disturbed him deeply. His passions should be just as fervent. They should be. And yet. His optics glanced to the ground momentarily before looking back to the subject of his and his master’s ire.

“What change in Megatron has brought you to such extremes?”

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How stalwart Cyclonus remained even in the face of what had to be heresy! Dreadwing looked upon him then with envy in his spark; before him was a mech whose all-encompassing faith had not been shaken to the very core, and his paradigm unshifted. What he would give to return to that surety and stability… but with it came a price, and he had judged the price too steep. Dreadwing forced the envy he felt down and away, as it had no place within him any longer. He had chosen his path, after all, and there was no turning back now.

He could not waver from his convictions, especially now that he had rediscovered them.

“We did not agree to this!” With a grand sweep, Dreadwing’s arm swept out to gesture to the surroundings. “We have become the very thing we sought to eradicate. Is there not corruption and rot within the ranks? Are Vehicons treated any better than the lower castes of old? This is not a revolutionary movement, it is a cult, and I only regret that I did not recognise it for what it was sooner than this.”

How many terrible things had he done in Megatron’s name? What good had he deprived the universe of in extinguishing the sparks of those he believed to be enemies? How many lives had he destroyed? He could spend the rest of his existence seeking absolution for those crimes, and it would never be enough.

“And to add insult to injury, we are now in exile on an organic world because our own lays in the ashes of our own folly! And yet Megatron seeks not to restore Cybertron but to obsess over petty squabbles and trinkets and will hear no counsel but that which he wishes to hear.” So impassioned was he that Dreadwing hardly even noticed that Cyclonus seemed to waver. “Yes, Megatron has strayed far from the original purpose, so far that the purpose is no longer recognizable in his actions!”

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Ah, this one had found a sort of freedom that Cyclonus never had in life. Perhaps, never sought either, but the fact remained. And his points, too, were more than valid. Cyclonus had seen the truth of it with his own optics. And not for the first time. It might have grieved him had Cyclonus time to expend wallowing in such things. He did not.

“Yes,” Cyclonus admitted finally, “He has.”

His crimson optics lifted up to meet Dreadwing’s own. But they were not filled with revelation or any sort of newfound freedom or triumph. No, they were unflinchingly solemn and weary. He lifted a hand, looking to the sky briefly. “I suppose…it ultimately comes down to one thing.”

His optics returned to Dreadwing.

“Where one’s loyalties laid when pledging themselves to the Decepticons.”

Cyclonus stared at Dreadwing for a hard moment before issuing a sigh. “Yours clearly lay with the cause itself. The old ideology that many swore themselves to once upon a time.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “For myself, it was to Lord Megatron.”

“And so I shall follow him. Even if madness consumes him as it did my former master. Even if all desert or abandon him. Even if the world itself would rail against me for doing so. I pledged myself, my sword, and my spark to him. Unless Lord Megatron chooses to sever that tie, I am bound by my word. It is what marks my very worth.”

“And my word would be stripped of meaning were I to defect from his side when it suited me,” Cyclonus explained. He would commit a thousand atrocities. Would extinguish another thousand sparks if it was his master’s wish. No matter how detestable Cyclonus may find it. No matter how appalled he was. He would abandon his sense of self if such a need arose. He was a tool for his master to wield and nothing more. It was as it had always been. As it had been before.

Cyclonus had believed in Megatron. Believed in his cause and his purpose. He had believed that Megatron would not tread the path that his former master Galvatron had. But he had been prepared for the day when those hopes might be dashed. He had been prepared the very moment he had made his decision to swear himself to Megatron’s side.

“Each must follow their own path. Do not stray from your convictions, Dreadwing.”

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Whatever Dreadwing had been expecting from Cyclonus, agreement with his statement had not quite been what he had imagined. Neither had he expected to agree with what Cyclonus - Indeed, the difference between the two of them rested within where their loyalties truly lied. How unfortunate it was that this difference was ultimately a matter of pragmatics.

Or perhaps his own loyalty did not lay with the root ideology of the Cause at all, but with himself and his twin. After all, his treacherous defection had not come until the universe conspired to deny his brother’s existence, so he could hardly say that it was the guilt of having committed unspeakable crimes for Megatron that had caused his change of spark. The thought of selfishness guiding his actions rubbed him the wrong way, but if he was to understand himself he could not delude himself any further.

Whatever the reason, Dreadwing did not feel a sense of righteousness or moral superiority at the revelation. If not for the circumstances, he could very well envision himself in Cyclonus’ place... and for the longest time he indeed had been in his place, loyal to his master and willing to turn a blind eye to the atrocities he had committed.

“Then you are a fool,” He said, not impolitely but certainly with no dancing about the matter. “Your reputation precedes you as a mech of honor, and yet you will still stand by your word to support that which is dishonorable. Do you not see this as paradoxical?” Paradoxical, and hypocritical. Dreadwing could not entirely blame him for it, because he too had engaged in such mental gymnastics in an attempt to maintain stability and his sense of identity.

“And you speak of madness consuming a former master - what was it that compelled you to sever ties with them? Are Megatron’s crimes not enough for you to reconsider your convictions?”

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Ah, so they had stooped to base insults now, was it? Cyclonus’s optical ridge quirked slightly at Dreadwing, waiting for him to elaborate before responding. And thus came his elaboration. Phrased in such a way, his actions could be construed as hypocritical. Feeling more than a little unappreciative of this young whelp’s tone, Cyclonus still waited, waited for him to finish.

“I did not sever my ties with my former master,” Cyclonus stated plainly. “He had driven all others from his side, and, when I alone was left, he cut our ties of his own volition. I did not wish to depart.” Perhaps it seemed to this one that he was performing some sort of circular logic to justify or circumvent the presumed issues with his continued allegiance to that which had become less than ideal.

“Do not make the mistake of projecting your own judgements and resolutions onto me to achieve some conclusion about my honor,” he uttered with a slight growl, “My honor is my own. Mine to me. It is different from your own, forged by experience with multiple masters and periods with none.”

“My honor does not concern Megatron’s crimes. Nor whatever madness may befall him. I do not presume to push the standards of my honor onto my master. For they must make the decisions that I cannot. They must weigh matters that I cannot. I am there to ease the burden that he carries. At his side until he too may cast me aside. But until that day, I will be there.”

Cyclonus’s visage darkened as his crimson optics flickered dangerously. “Do not insult me by presuming to know me or attempting to sway me from my convictions.” It was clear to Cyclonus, at least, that Dreadwing was indeed trying to coerce him into seeing the light of his argument. The degree of freedom and peace it granted him, undoubtedly.

It would not work. Not for the reason of being blinded by his loyalty. No, quite the opposite. His loyalty granted him perspective unclouded.

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The question hung heavy on his mind… what next? What was one supposed to do in this odd situation? Would they go their separate ways Dreadwing did not know, and certainly did not have any prior experience to help guide his actions. It was clear to him that Cyclonus did not intend to strike, and Dreadwing did not intend to provoke him.

Nevertheless, the tension in the other warrior’s frame and his displeased countenance gave the seeker some indication that his words had caused some offense. He raised his hands, palms outward, as a sign of non-aggression. “Peace! I do not mean to insult you, but if I have done so you have my apologies. Our lived subjectivities are different, you are correct, and it was wrong of me to project mine onto yours,” He acknowledged. “You seem incredibly self-aware, and you know yourself well. Your decisions should always be your own, and no other can make them for you.”

Subjectivities… Dreadwing wondered if Cyclonus had begun to notice the strangeness affecting the universe, or if he too remained as oblivious as his former comrades. “Have you…” He hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to probe the issue without sounding like some madmech with a screw loose. “...You say that you received word of my brother’s demise. Others aboard the Nemesis claim that he was never even awakened, and yet others insist he never came to Earth in the first place. Yet, you can clearly observe that this stasis pod was occupied recently, and that it is coded to my brother’s signature. Do you not find that… odd? Suspicious?”

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Cyclonus harrumphed as Dreadwing extended the palms of his hands out. The tension slowly eased out of his frame – not completely. After all, Dreadwing was an enemy and a traitor. It would not do to let down his guard. Still, he nodded in acknowledgement of Dreadwing’s words. The offense was forgiven.

His optics narrowed as Dreadwing hesitated in asking him a question.

“If that is so, then it is indeed peculiar,” Cyclonus conceded, “I merely heard tell of your spark sibling’s demise and came to pay respects. If the case is that he still functions, it would be most vexing.”

Speaking of oddities…There were…odd…occurrences in his own memories as well. He’d noticed them, but…had thought little of it. It had not posed an immediate concern on his work for Lord Megatron. He had written it off as perhaps his age catching up to him at last.

“I have…experienced similar peculiarities myself, though it may simply be my memory not being quite as sharp as it once was.”