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He didn't quite get it.
The humans would stuff themselves into oblivion by killing some giant (and supposedly tasty) bird—though with all the birds that he had encountered getting sucked into his turbines, Starscream didn't quite see how anything with feathers could be tasty—taking out and eating said bird's innards, and then feeling guilty about it later.
Huh?
What was the point of doing something and then feeling regrets if you enjoyed it in the first place? Sure, Starscream didn't relish the punishments Megatron inflicted upon him after each attempt at mutiny (but then again, he thought, maybe some tiny part of him did), but he never regretted any of it. That was why he did what he did. Not for a better cause like he preached, but because each time he rebelled, he received some small sliver of satisfaction out of it (not to mention he was just that much better than Megatron, anyways).
Barricade had even told him a few days ago that this wasn't even the worst of it. Apparently, the local police station, thinking his alt-mode was one of their own vehicles, put his "officer" in charge of crowd control for something called "Black Friday". This so called "holiday", as Barricade had experienced it in the past year, consisted of the humans stampeding into stores, trampling over one another in their haste, then bemoaning the lack of funds they had afterwards. Neither mech saw the point in this annual ritual, but they did, however, find it terribly amusing.
Despite its amusement factor, however, it left Starscream rather bored. Whereas the base was normally full of pilots running in and out of the hangar to perform practice flights with their assigned F-22's, the celebration of Thanksgiving tended to leave the place relatively empty. No flights, no routine maintenance, no entertainment. While it was not unheard of to Starscream that the humans received days off—just like the Decepticons had shifts of their own—to have a day when the entire sector was off was unheard of. Sure, they had celebrations back on Cybertron, but they usually consisted of downing a few shots of high grade and then returning to assigned duties. No matter what time of day it was, someone was always on alert. This apparently wasn't always the case on the planet Earth. How horribly simple and…pathetic?
Having his processor phrase his thought as a question surprised him. Was he actually jealous of the humans? His cycles were long and tedious with very little recharge time in between, yes, but could he really be envious of such a simplistic organism? No, he was just getting restless. Having to be scrunched up in your alt-mode day after day was torturous, especially for those who were built to be in the air.
But he couldn't fly. At least, not today, anyways. Being the only F-22 up in the airspace would look suspicious, and would surely only cause unwanted Autobot attention, and that was the last thing he wanted. Compromising the Decepticon's position while under his command (because, honestly, no one knew where Megatron was at any one time) would make him the laughingstock of the entire Nemesis, and that certainly wasn't the best way to prove his superior leadership…not mention protect whatever fragile pride he had left when Megatron was done with him.
But the alternative wasn't any better. As much fun as Frenzy and Barricade insisted frightening the humans out of their wits was, Starscream refused to stoop that low. Cheap tricks were best used elsewhere, like usurping positions of power. At least flight was performed honorably.
He could feel his gears tightening up at the prospect of hitting the open air. Oh, all right, one small flight around the perimeter. Surely it couldn't hurt?
Scanning the area, he sensed one insignificant human disposing of waste into a large bin. Even if the human did see him, no one would believe his story of a giant transforming aircraft, first of all, and secondly, he'd be back from the flight so fast that it would look like he had never left.
He pulled out of the space and started down the airstrip, quickly gaining speed, and with a roar of his engines, he was in the air. And it felt so damn good. He could literally feel the impatience melting off of him as the wind hit his wings and he let off a high-pitched scream of triumph—too high for human ears to detect. Nothing could even compare. Even though his sensors were built for more sensitive elements, such as solar winds, no matter where he was, flying was the same—instinctive—something so raw and primal in his programming that he'd still feel the that same tugging urge to take to the air even if his wings were somehow ripped off.
He spun, and dipped, and dived, relishing what many could not. And then, just like that, it was all over. Refreshed, his patience restored, it was back to square one, and the waiting began. Just two more cycles to go until this game of deception—of hide and seek—started up once again.
Author's Note: You guys know the drill already regarding my stories. Originally written for the revive_the_muse challenge on Livejournal. Constructive criticism is, of course, welcome and appreciated, especially this being my first Transformers fic and all.