Notes: This is a drabble series of some great popularity that I decided I would post for y'all here who might not have livejournal or be in the TF:A community there. It is writen in completion and being posted when I feel like it. This was the first bit I wrote, though the story partially works backwards from here. This one was specifically vague until the ending, and I hope you all enjoy!

turnabout
–noun
1. act of turning in a different or opposite direction.
2. a change of opinion, loyalty, etc.
3. a person who changes things; a radical.
4. a reciprocal action; act of doing to someone exactly as that person has done to oneself or another.

"I did what you wanted me to…Now get lost, kid."

"Wait!"

The other mech turned, glaring over his shoulder, optics narrowed. "I told you…Get. Lost."

He stood frozen, pinned by that bright, calculating stare. The words, the tone, that look…All perfectly conveyed the other's desire to never see him again, sorry little defect that he was. But he didn't want to be left behind and alone again; he was forgotten too often.

"Look, I brought you to Earth. You're here. It's what you wanted." Crimson arms folded across his chest, the taller mech leaned against the open hatch of his starhopper, looking disdainfully at the small reject. "And I know what you're thinking now…I did you a favor and you did a few things in return. Now you think you can stay with me. It's not going to happen." He laughed, the sound screechy and scornful, "Look at me; I'm aesthetically pleasing, talented, brilliant…You're a pathetic nobody with a vendetta."

He did look, violet optics scanning over the slender, streamlined frame from foot to crest. That smirk, that shrewd gaze, the way he carried himself; so dignified and sure of himself. Even now, propped against the hatch with one hip jutting out, arms crossed, expression one of bored contempt…He looked as if he owned the world.

He himself was small and broken and he clicked nervously, vocalizer straining for words he wanted to say but couldn't force out. He Ihad/I been like that, once, and maybe then they would have been equals, but now…Who was he kidding? It had all been a farce; an act…He had pretended to be nice so he could get what he wanted and it had worked; the small mech wanted him more than anything. But none of it meant anything to him; he was a renegade Decepticon and his own gain was all that was important.

"You're not a bad kid. In fact, you've got a lot of potential." The red mech turned, lingering a moment and tossing another sneer over his shoulder as the hatch slid shut, "Come find me again when you grow some wings."

That had been many, many orbital cycles ago.

Now, he looked down at his hands, clawed fingers opening and closing. He fluttered his new wings experimentally, watching the purple shadows they cast dance on the ground. With his reformat, he was bigger, better, stronger…Everything he had been before the imprisonment and more.

But he hadn't forgotten.

"Come find me again when you grow some wings."

Oh yes, he would come all right, now that he had some wings. As soon as he was done with Bumblebot, he would go looking and it wouldn't be long before he would find that little starhopper and its smug, know-it-all pilot. And then he would pick him apart, shiny limb by shiny limb, saving those wings he was so proud of for last, and make him suffer the same humiliation and torture he had.

And he would make Terrorsaur pay for dismissing him so quickly.