"Surrender, Megatron!"
"Never, Prime! You should know by now that the only way you'll survive the end of this war is by surrendering yourself! And don't worry, I will make sure you function. For a time."
Instead of answering, Optimus punches him in the faceplates.
Really, he should have expected it.
It's painfully obvious that Earth has done them no good, locking them into these pathetic stalemates where nothing ever happens.
Oh, one day the Decepticons have the upper servo, the next it's the Autobots, then one plan seems to go better, almost working perfectly, but something always ruins it.
Sometimes, it's the Autobots. Others, it's their human pets. And some others…
Jet turbines roar overhead before cluster bombs explode almost painfully close to the two grappling leaders.
"Starscream!" He hollers, punching Prime back to buy enough time to find the white and red Seeker swooping overhelm again, shooting his null-rays into the fray of Autobots and Decepticons close by.
When he doesn't get fired back, his Second transforms, hovering in midair with the same ease Megatron stands on solid ground, but far more regal.
Seekers are the lords of the skies, and Starscream is king over them all.
And the glitch knows it.
"My apologies, Mighty Megatron. Did I distract you from your trash-talking?"
Infuriating, self-centered, ambitious, glitch-ridden—
"Is that supposed to—"
"No, it's not!"
He knows that voice. Every Autobot, Decepticon and even the lowliest of organic vermin from Earth to Cybertron and beyond knows that voice. And every single one of them knows that when one hears those words spoken by that voice, you throw yourself to the ground and pray you're out of the blast radius.
He spares a quick look at the Autobot inventor, fins almost white as he jerks the glowing and crackling gun up, so that it's no longer pointing at the battlefield—
An almost blinding ray of light surges from its barrel as it explodes, fortunately missing the fighting troops—
Starscream barely turns around before he's engulfed by the ray, his startled shriek cutting short as a new explosion of light finally has Megatron offlining his optics and turning his helm away.
In the silence caused by the explosion, the crash is far too loud.
The Decepticon leader turns to the sound, rebooting his optics to recalibrate them to the once more normal light levels.
And wishes he hadn't looked.
Energon is boiling a murky brown, mixed with oils and lubricants as it spurts out of broken lines, wires twitching with stray electrical impulses as metal slowly melts down white red struts, tensile cables curled on themselves at the lack of an anchoring point, not a hint of glass-metal left on the frame.
Or what remains of it.
Starscream looks almost peaceful, optic sockets black and faceplate relaxed, mouth slightly open to allow a trail of smoke through, his remaining servo lying on disturbed and blackened earth with the dactyls slightly curled, as if he was gripping something.
There are no legs, no stomach. Only half of the chest, one wing, one arm and the helm.
All of it is deactivated gray.
And then, a flicker of light through a crack in a layered sphere in what should've been the middle of the torso catches the warlord's attention, and his fuel pump starts working again.
The spark chamber, blackened and scratched and slightly cracked.
The only light that could come from inside is that of a spark.
Starscream still functions.
"Blitzwing! Get him to Shockwave now!" He roars, pointing at the closest of his Decepticons and gesturing to the still active Space Bridge they'd been trying to protect.
Not wasting a nanoklik, the Triple Changer practically flies to the Seeker's remains, scooping him up and disappearing through the tower of light before Megatron recovers the footing he hadn't realized he'd lost.
When he whirls around, Prime's optics pale before the blue and red mech hastily steps away.
"Autobots retreat!"
What an irony, that the words he'd been waiting so long to hear come at a time when he can't really enjoy them.
Prime rushes to where his accursed inventor is laying in stasis, a bit charred and with cracked plating, but intact, and is gone almost before his trailer doors close after the Medic gets the damaged mech inside, none of the other Autobots staying longer than it takes them to transform.
The Space Bridge powers down.
Still with half of the Energon cubes meant for Cybertron with them, the Decepticons return to the Victory in eerie silence.
When Thundercracker, Skywarp, Thrust, Onslaught, Motormaster, Scrapper and the Reflector Gestalt step into the bridge after Soundwave and himself, Megatron doesn't say anything.
He just sits on his throne and waits.
Judging by how the rest are also intently staring at the black screen, they're all waiting for the same.
Time ticks by without the warlord even bothering to monitor, and tension grows.
Until, with a pained shriek, Skywarp falls to his knees, Thundercracker staring into empty air with his frame shaking badly enough that the weakest breeze could topple him.
Spark tightening, Megatron looks away, back to the screen, and refuses to acknowledge the sobs and plating tingling.
No.
It can't be.
Not half a breem later, the screen comes to life, and the Decepticon leader has just one thing for the purple mech on it.
"Starscream?"
And Shockwave only has one word to answer.
"Deactivated."
Thundercracker falls to his knees, and Skywarp buries himself in his Trinemate's embrace.
Thrust slowly lowers himself next to them, resting supportive servos between quivering wings, looking dazed.
Onslaught stumbles back until he's leaning against a wall, and slowly slides down to be sitting like a pile of disjointed parts, visor pale in disbelief.
Motormaster shakes his helm softly, turning to his leader with insecurity and doubt, servos clenching closed and opening over and over again.
Scrapper rests a servo against the side of his bowed helm, muttering softly to himself as he stares at nothing.
The Reflector Gestalt grab each others' servos as they simply watch, though they step closer to themselves.
Soundwave bows his helm, visor offline, and clenched servos trembling where they are pressed against the communications console.
Megatron turns to look at that spot at his right as if he could see the mech straightening proudly, straining his audials to catch the scoffs of that high pitched voice as blue servos cross against an orange cockpit.
"Please, as if it was so easy to get rid of me. I will be leader of the Decepticons!"
But there's nothing.
Only empty space and the sounds of a broken Trine.
AN: I know, I know. I have more than enough ideas before starting yet another one, but I've had this one in my head for months (almost a year now), and the only reason I hadn't written it already was because I didn't really know how to tackle it. But inspiration came and who am I to deny it? Besides, it was starting to give me a headache.
So, there you have it. I can't promise regular updates, but I'll try. Any ideas, different POVs, missing scences you'd like to see (even if there isn't much to request as of now) are more than welcome, and I promise I'll try to make them a reality.
Now, excuse me while I go curl into a corner for having killed one of my favorite characters.
