Warpath || A Transformers Prime Fanfiction

~⚝Chapter Three - Wits⚝~

       It had been days since the first incident, but the uneasy feeling had only grown stronger. Gearshift couldn't shake the sense that something was fundamentally wrong, even if she couldn't pinpoint what it was. The lights in the cave had been flickering more often, a constant reminder of the strange disorientation she'd experienced. Today, she was determined to fix them.

       Gearshift stood on a makeshift platform, reaching up to adjust the wiring in one of the cave's light fixtures. The tools in her hands felt strangely heavy, as though they belonged to someone else. She had tried to push the nagging thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the gnawing sense of unease.

       The lights flickered again, casting erratic shadows across the rocky walls. Gearshift gritted her teeth, adjusting a loose wire with deliberate precision. "Come on, just work already," she muttered, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The flickering was beginning to wear on her nerves, each flash of darkness sending a shiver down her circuits.

       As she worked, the buzzing in her audio receptors started again, the same relentless drill that had haunted her during that first disorienting episode. She shook her head, trying to clear the noise, but it only seemed to grow louder, more insistent.

       Suddenly, the light above her blinked out entirely, plunging the cave into darkness. Gearshift's optics adjusted automatically, but the shadows felt oppressive, heavy. She reached for her tools, but her hands found nothing but empty air. Panic flared briefly before she remembered: she was alone in the cave, working to fix the lights. That was all. There was nothing to be afraid of.

       But then she heard it—a voice, cold and sharp, cutting through the darkness like a blade. "Still tinkering with scraps, Gearshift? I'd have thought you'd moved on to more ambitious projects by now."

       Gearshift's optics narrowed as the familiar, mocking tone reached her audios. "Starscream," she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anything. The name came with a wave of irritation, grounding her in the present, even as the darkness seemed to press in on all sides. But where did it come from? How did she know that name? It was so natural to say with such spite. Why?

       The voice triggered something deeper, pulling at a thread in her mind. Suddenly, the cave around her shifted, the rock splitting to reveal the sleek, metallic walls of the Nemesis. The low hum of the ship's engines reverberated through the floor, and the air smelled faintly of oil and metal.

       Gearshift had been working in her workshop for hours. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't hear the door to her workshop slide open. It wasn't until the familiar, grating voice of Starscream echoed through the room that she realized she wasn't alone.

       "Still playing with your little toys, Gearshift?" Starscream's tone was dripping with condescension, the kind that made her circuits flare with irritation. "One would think you'd have outgrown this by now."

       Gearshift's hand trembled slightly as she tightened a screw, but she forced herself to keep working, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. "Some of us actually contribute to the Decepticon cause, Screamer," she shot back, though her voice wavered slightly. "Unlike those who spend their time preening in front of the mirror."

       Starscream's optics narrowed, but he sauntered closer, his wings twitching with irritation. "That's Commander Starscream to you. And tell me, does Megatron actually know you exist, or are you just another cog in the machine, easily replaced and quickly forgotten?"

       Gearshift's hands paused for a split second before continuing to work, but her tone was icy. "Funny you should mention Megatron. How's that whole 'loyal lieutenant' act going? Still waiting for the day you can stab him in the back?"

       Starscream let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, you wound me, Gearshift. You know as well as I do that Megatron values my strategic mind. It's not my fault if lesser beings like you can't keep up."

       Finally, Gearshift looked up, meeting his gaze with a scornful look. "Strategic mind? Is that what you call it? Last I checked, your 'strategies' end up with you crawling back, tail between your legs, begging for forgiveness. Face it, Starscream, you're nothing more than an errand boy."

       Starscream's optics flashed with anger, and he took a step closer, his wings flaring slightly. Gearshift's spark pounded in her chest as she took in just how much bigger and more battle-ready he was, but she refused to back down.

       "You should watch your tone, Gearshift," Starscream hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You may think you're clever, but insubordination won't be tolerated. Not by me, and certainly not by Megatron."

       "Insubordination?" Gearshift scoffed, rising to her full height, though she barely reached his neck. "I call it like I see it. And what I see is a bot who's so desperate for power that he's willing to grovel for scraps. You're pathetic, Starscream. Everyone knows it."

       Starscream's fists clenched at his sides, but he forced a sneer onto his face. "You've got a lot of nerve, speaking to me like that. But then again, I suppose you've always been more mouth than metal."

       Gearshift opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. For a split second, doubt flickered in her optics. What if she was pushing too far? What if this was the moment he finally snapped? She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand her ground.

       "Better to have a mouth than nothing at all," she shot back, her voice shaking slightly. "At least I'm not a coward who hides behind others, waiting for a chance to backstab them."

       "Careful, Gearshift," Starscream hissed. "You're treading on thin ice."

       "And what are you going to do about it, Screamer?" Gearshift's scowl deepened as she crossed her arms, daring him to make a move. But deep down, fear coiled in her circuits. What if this was the time he actually retaliated? "Run crying to Megatron? Or maybe you'll try to take me out yourself? I'd love to see you try."

       Starscream's wings twitched again, his anger barely contained. "You're overstepping your bounds, Gearshift. One day, that arrogance of yours is going to get you into trouble. And when it does, don't expect any mercy."

       "Mercy?" Gearshift laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "You talk about mercy like it's something you've ever shown. But let me tell you something, Starscream—if you ever try to cross me, you'd better be ready for a fight. Because I won't hold back."

       Starscream's optics narrowed to slits, his entire frame trembling with silent fury. "You'll regret this, Gearshift," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Mark my words, you'll regret ever crossing me."

       "Promises, promises," Gearshift taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though her spark pounded in her chest. "Now, if you're done wasting my time, I've got real work to do."

       Starscream lingered for a moment longer, his optics boring into hers with a mix of hatred and the craving desire to rip her apart. But he didn't respond. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out of the workshop, the door sliding shut behind him with a final, ominous hiss.

        Gearshift watched him go, the smirk fading from her lips as she returned to her work. But the tension in her frame didn't dissipate. If anything, it only grew stronger, coiling tight in her circuits like a spring ready to snap.

       She didn't notice the lights flickering again. Didn't notice the strange, faint buzzing in the back of her mind. All she could think about was the look in Starscream's optics—the fury, the contempt... and the scheming.

       She knew she had pushed him too far. But there was no turning back now.

       Not that she would ever want to.

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Total Word Count: 1296