Chapter Text
Thundercracker sat on his knees, servos resting lightly over the blue joints as he stared up into the sky. Its blue was brighter than his armor, with thin white clouds wafting by to partially obscure the sun. Nothing else was in the sky; not a single trace of a flyer remained.
Rather than crashing due to a poorly thought out endeavor to protect human children and being attacked by a member of his own faction as a result—this time, he had taken a shot in an effort to protect Starscream. A successful effort, an inane effort, but also an enlightening one.
It made no difference who he sought to protect; the result would remain the same. He had been left behind. Again.
Pain radiated from his right shoulder, a large hole having been blasted into it, exposing fragile circuitry. He reached up to cover what he could of it with his servo, wincing as a spark leapt from snapped wires and managed to slip beneath a seam of one of his digits.
Unlike the last time he had crashed, the damage was not so severe that he could no longer fly. If he transformed, he could be in the air and on his way back to base in a matter of klicks. And yet he had no intention of flying anywhere, let alone back to The Triumph.
His wings twitched as the sounds of roaring engines and wheels on dirt vibrated against their delicate sensors. The Autobots were arriving, great. With a sigh, more tired than anything, he pushed himself to his pedes, not about to be taken into custody on his knees.
Skywarp had not participated in this cycle's battle, but he held no doubt his purple wingmate would have left all the same. It was a confidence born of repetitive experiences. Much as the teleporter tried to maintain their early function comradery and care, it wasn't the focus of his limited attention span.
Thundercracker wasn't a priority and hadn't been for a long, long time. If Skywarp were given the option to bring the Thundercracker back to base or prank Optimus Prime right this very moment, it didn't take an advanced processor to calculate those odds. Just a pair of optics and pattern recognition.
It was said Prime who reached him first, his heavy pedes causing small tremors on the hard rock ground as he approached the abandoned seeker. Thundercracker's frame tensed on instinct, though he did not anticipate a fight.
The Prime raised his servos, one holding a pair of stasis cuffs, and nodded in Thundercracker's direction, his vocals strangely solemn. "It would appear your fellow Decepticons have retreated without you."
The Autobot leader then motioned him to move closer with a half-sparked gesture, and Thundercracker almost laughed at how morose the Prime was treating the capture of an enemy combatant. It was a reluctance he had never observed within his own faction.
"I give you my word as Prime no further harm will come to you as we negotiate a prisoner exchange."
Would a Decepticon have ever given such a vow? The most he could remember is the promise of suffering and torment, of making the captured bot wish for the sweet embrace of The Well over rescue.
He clenched his jaw, fists clenching at his sides. The Prime's sudden combative stance in response did nothing to change his processor.
His decision had been made.
The Prime stepped closer, saying, "Please, I do not wish to use force."
But then, perhaps he had known the inevitability of his decision the moment they awoke on this organic planet. Starscream had just been right; Thundercracker had been too much of an equivocal coward to go through with it.
More Autobots began to approach, various reds, blues, and yellows; he was surrounded on all sides. However, even the threat of so many enemies did nothing to dampen the sudden vigor that pulsed hotly within the blue seeker's spark.
Thundercracker sucked in a vent before addressing the Prime with determined optics, announcing, "That won't be necessary—I'm defecting."