Hello, guys!
So, I've been reading the Transformers's comics about Windblade, including Till All Are One Revolution, in which I saw a very particular scene between a half-dead Starscream and a very shocked Windblade; and, between that, and the sparks-disruptor scene from Titan Return, I've been starting to ship those two... Though they can't see each other eye to eye...
Now, we know that Windblade and Starscream has been holding a cold war between each other, ever since she arrived to the planet. But we also know that, in the meantime, Rattrap is looking for the right time to backstab his boss, just as he used to backstab Megatron (karma is a bitch). So, what if the rat suddenly succeeds, and Starscream finds himself kicked out of his own planet? How would things work out for Windblade?
What if, in the end, it was better to let the Seeker where he was?
This is a two-parts story.
Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there's a big chance for you to find grammar mistakes. Sorry.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.
SEEKING FOR A SEEKER…
Windblade was at Maccadam's, pondering whether to banish herself from Cybertron, or take the risk of terminate the new regent of the planet in the middle of the Council's meeting. Yes. Things has got worse in the last quartex; and, for the first time since she arrived to the planet, it wasn't Starscream's fault. In fact, it was Rattrap's fault! While she and the Seeker wasted their time in their little cold war, the lackey made his move on his boss, thing that resulted in the flyer getting kicked out of the planet.
At first, she celebrated it. It was a brand new chance for Cybertron to reborn under a better regime. Jeez, she even tried to convince Optimus or Rodimus to return and take their rightful place as leaders! But both of them refused… The older Prime stated that he was most needed on Earth, and the other one said that he couldn't leave his crew abandoned in the middle of nowhere.
Well, if no Prime would take the crown, then they would've to go through an election, right?
Ha, ha. As if…
As soon as Starscream got his aft off the planet's surface, Rattrap placed himself as unquestionable leader. Yup. The stupid rat outwitted his master, and accomplished a coup d'état, right under the Seeker's nose. Ugh… Widblade hated to admit it, but they were better with that selfish idiot on the throne. At least she knew how to deal with that glitch-head…
Blurr offered her another drink.
"No, thanks. I wish to remain sober…" She said, placing her head on her left palm.
"What for? The next meeting? Didn't you say that Rattrap doesn't let you speak, except when it's something that he wants to hear?" One of the other clients said, arching an eyebrow, while Blurr started to clean some glasses.
The delegate dropped her head onto the table. It was all true: ever since this new government started, the Council's opinions hasn't been heard, thanks to which, the alliance was now pending from a thread… Not to mention that the disturbances between Autobots and Decepticons were off the graphics. Even Ironhide was already praying for help…
And that's without mentioning Metroplex's worries about his population…
"You're right… Blurr, refill, please." The femme said, while raising her cup.
The cerulean mech sighed, while taking away the glass.
"As the bar's owner, I love that you want to keep drinking; as your friend… not so much." He said, while pouring some low-grade instead. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He wondered, while returning her the glass.
"No, unless you know someone who would, gladly accept the regent's title…" The Camien mumbled, while taking a sip. Realizing that the taste was different, she examined the drink before dedicate a crocked smile to the bartender. "Sly move, Blurr…" She chuckled, while crossing her arms.
He shrugged.
"I told ya': as your friend, I won't let you get yourself wasted!" He laughed. "And, maybe, there's one person who would, gladly, overthrow our beloved leader…" The cerulean mech added, while leaning forward, until he was able to rest his upper body against the bar between them.
Windblade lasted a couple kliks before understand who he was referring to…
"No. No, no, no. NO!" She said, while shaking her head and standing up. "Are you out of your mind?!"
"Hey! You asked!" The bartender retorted, going back to his clients. "And, anyway, you can't deny that's true…"
No, she couldn't deny it. But it didn't please her either…
After all she did, after all that Chromia sacrificed, how could Blurr even propose such thing? No. No matter what, she would find a way to deal with Rattrap, as she learnt to deal with Starscream before him. She had to.
But, as the solar-cycles passed, and the weeks started to become quartex, the Camien had to end up realizing that she couldn't handle this new regent. This mech knew her better than she thought, and he remembered all the moves she made against his previous boss, reason why he was terribly cautious when it came to secrets. If she could only get her hands in something, anything, that would make him look bad in front of his people… But there was nothing, since nobody minded him until he named himself king…
The political panorama wasn't improving; especially when Windblade realized that some of the delegates started to leave Cybertron until further advice (a.k.a. if things didn't make a turn for the best, the Council would disassemble, and the planet would fall into a complete tyranny).
No choice then…
It was late night when Wheeljack felt somebody knocking at his door. "Not again…" He grunted, while getting out of the berth to go to check who it was. Deep inside he was hoping that it was nothing, perhaps some idiot who misread the address; but, when he saw the Camien furiously demanding him to open the door, the scientist couldn't help but remember that the last time something like this happen to him, some whack job blew his place and hijacked him…
Sighing, the white mech dragged his feet to the door and opened it.
"What're you doin' here? Don't you know what time it is?" He asked, almost pleading her to go away and let him sleep.
"Sorry for this, 'Jack! But I need a favor!" The flyer femme said, while entering the apartment. She seemed to be pretty stressed.
"Here we go…" Wheeljack muttered, closing the door. "What is it?"
"I need you to open me a space-bridge."
The scientist blinked a couple times at the answer.
"And this couldn't wait until morning, because…"
"Because I don't want Rattrap to know that I'm gone!" Windblade explained, gesturing furiously.
"So, this is another of your crazy plans to overthrow a regent, huh?" The mech guessed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Windblade… I don't think that you should…"
"Do we have another choice? The Council and the alliance is already about to expire, because of that jerk! Either we take down that moron, or he would devastate Cybertron and the colonies!" The delegate interrupted him, desperate. "Please, Wheeljack! I just need this favor from you, and I'll do the rest! I'm begging you!" She added, grabbing her friend by the arms, and pleadingly looking into his eyes.
Wheeljack wasn't a fan of getting into something without know exactly why (the few times he did, it didn't end well for him nor his friends); but something told him that, if he didn't help the Camien, she would take the risk by her own, and, if something happened to her because of him… Sighing, the scientist nodded and agreed to open a space-bridge for her. The femme, happy of hearing it, gave him a tight hug. He told her not to thank him yet, because he wasn't sure of where was she planning to go…
Noticing that she would have to reveal her whole plan to the mech, the delegate dedicated him an awkward smile… before tell him everything.
…
And that's when the Cybertronian considered to call for the madhouse…
The planet was one of those regular stops for tired intergalactic travelers. It was filled with motels, taverns, and other low-live places of entertaining. There was noise everywhere, and a strange mixture of all kind of different species, mostly organics, roaming around the alleys. The sky was decorated with spaceships of all forms and sizes resting at the docks, waiting patiently for their masters to return… or for a good thief to empty it. Among other vessels, there was one that called the stranger's attention: a Cybertronian ship was attached to one of the docks, and, by the looks of it, nobody has used it recently. The mechanical being walked up to the keeper and asked for the ship's owner whereabouts.
The guy arched an eyebrow… or… well… what looked to be an eyebrow. He wasn't going to talk unless he had a reason to. Understanding, the stranger handled him some money; and, all of the sudden, the keeper remembered that the ship arrived a while ago, transporting a lone passenger who didn't want to give name nor planet of origin, but it wasn't a need. Everyone in this side of the galaxy knew about Cybertron and its population thanks to their little war that spread like an illness through the universe. However, if she was planning to find this person, there was only one motel that accepted their kind as renters…
Around sunset, all the lowest vermins of any society appeared on the streets. The stranger tried not to look nor listen to them as she made her way towards a bar, which she found filled with all kind of characters, some of which seemed to have escaped from jail… or worse. "Is he really here?" She wondered, as her eyes kept finding more and more reasons to run out of the establishment. That included some drunken costumer who was making inappropriate commentaries and offers to her…
Fortunately, between all the greasy and grotesque bodies that populated the room, the shiny reflection of a metallic wing stood out in the crowd. She couldn't believe that she was actually glad of finding him!
"Starscream!" She yelled out while running towards the stool where the mech was sitting.
However, as she got close enough, the femme couldn't hold back a gasp of complete horror and surprise when she saw the state in which the mech was: he was languidly lying on top of the metallic bar, with his legs practically hanging from the stool. His head was resting at the table next to his chest; his left arm was lifelessly dangling at his side, while his right hand was barely holding onto a half-empty bottle of Engex. There were another three bottles in front of him, all of them completely empty, almost cleaned. The broken glass next to his left foot must've been the cup he was using; until his left hand dropped it when he passed out…
What the hell happened to him?!
The femme rushed to awake him.
"Starscream?! Starscream, wake up!" She yelled, while shaking him by the shoulders. Nothing. He was out cold. "Wake up, you idiot, selfish, good-for-nothing, glitch-head! You didn't survive a fragging war of millions of years to get killed by a bottle of high-grade!"
"Lady, I don't know what your businesses with him are, but that guy has been lying there since this morning…" The owner said, while pouring someone else's drink.
"I don't care if he's been here for a vorn, as long as he has pulse!" The femme retorted, while starting to shake him even harder. "Come on, Starscream!" She yelled without answer. "It can't be so easy to get rid of you…" The femme added under her breath.
Finally, the Seeker moaned in pain, while starting to open his optics. At first, he didn't notice the presence of the femme, and simply grunted, while collecting himself from the table. Realizing that he dropped his glass, the mech asked for another one before massage his forehead.
He was utterly drunk. He was even dragging his words and his movements were slow and sloppy. This wasn't the same mech she met so many stellar-cycles ago! The Starscream she remembered always acted as if he owned the universe, but this one in front of her… This was nothing more than a completely defeated mech who lost all reasons to fight.
The bartender reached him a glass, while signalizing him that he had a visitor. Lazily, the Seeker turned his head, snarling in disgust when he recognized who it was.
"What do you want, Cityspeaker?" He managed to say, while trying to serve himself a drink. His unsteady pulse was not helping him though… "Have you come to laugh?"
"Starscream… What… What happened to you?" Windblade asked, truly concerned.
"And you ask…" The Seeker scoffed, swallowing his drink in one sip. Then he looked at her, almost as if he was surprised that she was still standing there. "What're you doin' here…? Go away…" He ordered, shooing her with his right hand, before pour more high-grade on his glass. "You won. Congrat-" Hiccup. "-lations…"
The Camien couldn't believe it. He actually gave up.
Sighing, Windblade didn't know what to do now. She came here expecting to find the same old Starscream, she was even prepared to argue with him; but not even in her craziest dreams she imagined him behaving like this. So this was the Seeker when he felt defeated in his own game. Somehow, she didn't like the view…
Suddenly, the femme saw that he was asking for another bottle.
"Don't you dare to give him more Engex!" The Camien roared to the bartender, while slamming some money on the table, and quickly grabbing the mech by the arms, pulling him up. "Come on… Let's take you back to your room, Starscream."
The Seeker reluctantly got up, and, with a very unstable step, let Windblade led him back to the motel. However, even before they reached the bar's door, the femme had to pass one of Starscream's arms around her shoulders, while grabbing him firmly by the waist, just to keep him standing. The guy was drunker than she thought, which mean that drag him all the way back to his room would be harder than she estimated…
"C'mon, Starscream! Put some will from you!" The Camien yelled at the mech who was having serious trouble to remember how to walk. "Come on: one foot in front of the other!"
"Ugh! Do you ever-" Hiccup. "-shut up?!" He complained, while massaging his audio-receptors.
Well, at least he could still hear her.
It was already night when the two of them reached the motel. Starscream was practically unconscious again, while Windblade was panting out of exhaustion. "Just a little bit further…" She thought as she literally dragged both of them to the room that the mech was renting… Only to discover that he forgot the key inside said room…
Groaning, the Camien left the Seeker sitting on the floor, while she went to the motel's owner to ask for a copy. As soon as he was left alone, Starscream fell on his side and passed out again… Seeing this, Windblade sighed before let out an exasperated roar, and kneel down to help the idiotic Decepticon to sit straight.
The place's owner was a teeny-weeny alien of organic origin, but it had a giant assistant whose size was closer to Windblade's. He handled her the key, while commenting that it wasn't the first time that Starscream locked himself out of his room, or returned completely drunken. "So he's been like this since he left Cybertron…" She thought, kind of feeling bad for the Seeker. True, she hated him as a ruler, and didn't like him as a person; but not even he deserved this…
Thanking for the key's copy, the Camien started to walk back to where she left the Decepticon.
"If I were you, I would change of boyfriend." The assistant commented, while resting his weight against his desk.
Windblade stiffed at the mere thought of having Starscream as her sparkmate.
"He's NOT my boyfriend!" She retorted, gesturing violently.
"Really?" He wondered kind of surprised. "You're the first living being in coming here to check on him. Well… besides my partner, whenever he forgets to pay the rent…" He added, shrugging. "And since you and him are Cybertronians of similar construction… Well…" He shrugged again.
A little bit offended, Windblade returned to the room's door.
The interior of the place was a complete mess, with its floor hidden under lots of empty bottles of Engex, among which she could distinguish some of low-grade. Pushing the door, so she could enter dragging a half unconscious Starscream, the femme heard the tingling noise of the glasses as the empty vessels rolled on the floor. Even in the darkness, the glimmer of the crystal that filled the ground, and the two couches of the living room, was very visible. It was a sad picture. It was the house of an alcoholic, not the place of a former ruler of Cybertron…
With a sad sigh, Windblade entered, and kicked the door to close it. Then, she started to help the Decepticon to reach the bedroom. On the way there, which was a short trip of ten steps, the femme felt how her feet pushed aside dozens of bottles to open their way. The Seeker didn't give any signs of have intentions of walk by himself, so she just kept going; until they reached the bedroom's doorframe, and the mech made the sad attempt of enter by his own merits… only to shamefully fall onto his knees before reach the bed.
By instinct, Windblade ran to help him.
"Don't… touch me…" He hissed with his hoarse voice, while uselessly struggling to get up.
"Starscream, I'm trying to help you!" The delegate retorted.
"Yeah, right…" He snarled, while clumsily sitting on the floor. "And what you want in exchange…?" He retorted, with his optics unable to focus on the femme's silhouette.
"What're you talking about?! I just want to help you to get up!" Windblade said, while reaching her hands out to grab him by the armpits.
Starscream refused the help and slapped her servos away from him. Then, saying that he would help himself, the Seeker used all his strength to climb up to the berth. It was a pathetic sight of the Decepticon; it was something that the Camien never thought that would see… Sighing, she looked back at the other room, where the empty bottles filled her whole visual range. How did he fall so low? Sure, he wasn't the most stable person she ever met, but he wasn't like this either.
Believing that it wouldn't be right to leave him by his own, the femme tried to help him once more. But, as soon as her hands were on his shoulders, the mech pushed her away again, while demanding to be left alone.
"You can't be left alone! Not like this!" She retorted, forcefully helping him to sit up straight.
"You already took everything from me… What else do you want…?" The Seeker asked, while grabbing her forearms and pushing her away again. In the process, he almost fell off the bed. Everything was blurry, and he felt as if his processor was filled with a heavy fog. He couldn't think straight. "Just go…"
"Why is it so hard to believe that I want to help you?!"
"You never came here in all this stellar-cycle, not even once! Nobody came here to check on me! So don't you dare to say that you're 'worry' for me, Cityspeaker! You just want something from me, like everybody else!" Starscream exploded, while pointing at Windblade's face, and getting on his feet with a jump.
However, his steps were yet too unstable, and, as soon as he finished talking, he lost balance and fell again. Luckily, Windblade was capable of catch him; unfortunately, he was a little too heavy for her, and almost sent them both to the ground.
With some effort from her, the femme somehow managed to keep them both standing, before help the mech to sit onto his bed again. Starscream groaned and massaged his head, at the same time he kept going with his speech:
"You, Rattrap, Megatron, the slaggin' Senators… You're all the same scrap… Before the war I was respected. Be a Seeker meant something!" He snarled, slightly hitting his chest, where his spark-chamber was. "But then those glitch-heads fired me and my trine due to an administrative mistake… They solved it out, but they didn't reincorporate us!" He complained, raising his arms in disgust to the memory, as if he was trying to punch his old bosses. "I did what it had to be done to survive!" The mech stated, angered. "That's when Mega-slaggin'-Tron appeared, and I volunteered to follow him like an idiot! He just wanted my trine because we were from Vos! We were unquestionable soldiers! It was in our CNA! He used me day after day after day…" Then, he looked at Windblade. "You know what I got in exchange? Huh? A big lot of nothing, not even a thank you. I gave him the best stellar-cycles of my life, and all I got for that was being his personal punching bag. So blame me for being a treacherous second in command!" He lowered his head. "The only ones who actually cared for me were Skywarp and Thundercracker… or so I thought before they also left me…"
Then, he started to sob, and shut up.
Windblade was wordless. All this time, she was sure to know who Starscream was, but now… Of course she didn't know him as well as she thought: the Camien only researched about the current Starscream, but never thought about researching about the previous one. Who was he before the war started? Why he chose to be a Decepticon? Why he was always looking for opportunities to backstab his leader? Why was he so eager to become Cybertron's ultimate ruler? Why he became such a wreck after losing his political power?
Sighing, the delegate tried to apologize for have been so insensitive with him, but before she was able to open her mouth, Starscream was already recharging. It was probably best if she didn't wake him up, so the Camien tried to leave the bedroom as silently as she could; but when she stumbled upon the empty bottles, the femme realized that there was one more thing that she could do for the Seeker…
Windblade wasn't sure of when she went to recharge, all she knew was that someone was slightly shaking her by the shoulder. Groaning, the femme slowly opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the daylight, until she was able to recognize her surroundings: she was sleeping in one of the two couches that filled the living room that Starscream was renting away from Cybertron. Actually, it was the Seeker who was waking her up. The mech seemed to be sober, though he was holding a small blue shiny bottle.
In fear of what it contained, the Camien sat up and snatched the recipient from the mech's hand.
"What the…? It's not high-grade, it's for the migraine!" Starscream complained, while dropping onto the other couch. "I'm dealing with one heck of a headache…" He added, while massaging his helm with both hands and closing his eyes.
"Not a surprise, considering the state in which I found you…" She commented, while returning him the drink.
Starscream took a large sip of it before avert his face, as if he was thinking of what to say next.
"Did I…?" He cleared his throat. "Did I said something… weird?" He asked, clearly embarrassed by the idea of have spilled something he shouldn't have.
"Like what?" Windblade wondered, arching an eyebrow.
"I don't know. Anything! Did I said something that I would normally don't say out loud?" He clarified, while taking another sip of the tiny bottle.
"Talk about how the world has mistreated you your whole life, and start cursing the Senators, Megatron, and mostly every living thing counts?" The Camien asked cocking her head to the left, while crossing her legs.
The Seeker chuckled, slightly shook his head, and rested his left elbow on the couch's backrest.
"Not really. Many people knows about it; I mean, it wasn't precisely a secret that I wished ill to Megatron. And the Senators?" He smirked and chuckled again. "I'm sure that Skywarp and Thundercracker will provide a very large list of adjectives that I have used to define those sons of a glitch."
Then, they both fell into an awkward silence for a couple minutes in which Windblade played with her fingers, while Starscream kept drinking from the small recipient. None of them spared a look to the other.
This was the first time that they didn't have reasons to threat each other.
"Did you clean this place up?" The Seeker suddenly asked, trying, desperately, to cut the silence.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah, I…" She cleaned her throat as well. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to… You know, as a favor." The femme said, trying to sound a casual as she could.
"Aha…" Was his only comment as he scanned her from head to toe.
And back to the awkward silence… Until a pounce on the roof made the Camien jump on her place and look up with wide eyes.
"Don't worry about that. The couple from upstairs is kind of noisy, but they're not troublesome." Starscream told her, while disregarding her startled face with a wave of his left hand. "Now, the guy from the room next to this one, that's another story… I'm pretty sure he killed someone the other day." He added, narrowing his eyes at the last part. "But, again, I was drunk so it could've been just my imagination…" He shrugged.
"How can you live like this?" Windblade asked, never minding her manners. She was just too surprised of finding him so comfortable in such dumpster.
The Seeker shrugged again and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.
"Why couldn't I? I've survived worst scenarios during the war. I've literary slept in the muddy ground, while I heard bombs going off around me. Compared to that, this is nothing…" He said.
A very loud hit was heard upon their heads, and there was some sort of ruckus in the room on top of them. Even the cheap neon lights shook a little because of it.
"What are they…?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know." The mech interrupted his guest, before quickly take another sip of his tiny bottle. "However, I do want to know why you came here looking for me after this long." Starscream added, lying again against the backrest, while a sly smirk appeared on his lips.
"Seriously? I thought that you would figure that out by now…" Windblade retorted, crossing her arms and imitating his posture.
"Rattrap sent everything in free fall after my leaving?" He wondered, but there was a glint on his eyes that told the femme that he wasn't actually asking. It was part of his political game, as it has always been.
"Economics, diplomatic accords, energy resources, security matters… It's like everyone on Cybertron lost their heads all of the sudden." She admitted, worried. "The peace deal between Autobots and Decepticons? Broken. There are riots on the streets every day. Ironhide's forces are outnumbered, and there's no backup on its way."
"Surprise, surprise…" The Seeker mocked her, while putting the bottle on the floor. "What about the Council? Is it still working, or did Rattrap managed to break it as well?" He asked, crossing his arms.
"Let's just say that nobody is going to notice I'm gone." The Camien answered with bitterness on her voice.
"That bad, huh?" He said, mockingly. "Well, I can't deny that I expected this much when that idiot overthrew me, but my question is still on the air: why are you here?"
Windblade took a deep vent. Yes, of course that he wanted to hear it… There was no possible way that she would convince him without admitting it out loud. But she had to, right? After all, that was why she came looking for him, right? It wasn't personal. It was politics. As simple as that. She had to do this for political reasons; nothing else…
Finally, she bit her lip before sigh, ready to say it:
"We need you back, Starscream. As much as I hate to admit it, things were better with you on the throne…" Ugh. The mere thought of her actually saying it made her tanks revolve in disgust.
The mech seemed pleased by this words as he nodded, and pursed his lips.
"Flattering. Only one problem: I can't go back." He said, getting up.
"What?!" Surprised, the femme jumped off her seat. "But…!"
"Listen, unless you can take back the recordings of my secret meeting with Swindle, and erase the memory of Cybertron's entire population, I'm safer here than back home." He interrupted her, while crossing his arms. "So, I'm sorry, but you just wasted your time coming here, because there's no fragging way I'm going back."
"But… But…"
"I'm sorry, but I appreciate my life more than I want to sit my aft in a throne!" Starscream said, while walking away from her, towards the kitchen.
Windblade ran after him in despair, asking what she could do to change his mind. The Seeker refused to all her propositions, even to the one in which she promised to publically admit that he was a hundred times better politician that she would ever be; even more, she was astro-seconds away from accepting to become his personal spy. But, no. Nothing she said, plead or proposed, convinced him.
"Starscream, please!"
"No! I already told you: I'm not going back!" He snapped, almost breaking the plate of Energon that he was holding between his hands. "Why would I? Because Cybertron is my natal planet?" He chuckled. "Whatever… Do you know how many times I've been humiliated, beaten up, and nearly terminated because of my patriotism? Thousands, millions even. Now, do you know how many times I've been regarded because of it? Not even once. Not even a thank you note." He snarled, while taking seat on the couch once more. "So, from my point of view, I owe nothing to Cybertron, the Decepticons, you, or anybody." Then, he took a bite of his food. "But, if you're so desperate for a new leader, why not one of the Primes? There's two of them now."
"None of them accepted the job…" She admitted, dropping her arms and her wings.
Starscream chocked with his meal at this confession.
"So you admit that I wasn't your first option, huh?!" He roared.
"I'm sorry! But, considering our relationship, can you blame me?!" She defended herself.
"No, I guess not…" The Seeker admitted with a sigh, while placing his chin on his right hand's palm. "Then, what about Megatron? I bet that Rodimus drove him crazy already, and would appreciate to get away from him for a while…"
"Are you out of your mind?!" Windblade shouted, arching an eyebrow. "If we put him as ruler, the Decepticons who still believe in their cause will go ballistic!" Then, sighing, she took seat next to him. "You're the only option…" The Camien sighed, while bending over, so she could hide her face on her palms and place her elbows on her knees.
The Seeker stared at her with wide eyes at her expression. In all the time they had to bear to be in each other's company during the Council meetings (and nearly lethal situations…), he couldn't remember a single moment in which the femme looked so… depressed. He almost felt bad for her. Sighing, and averting his eyes, Starscream considered his options: true, his current life was no paradise, but, at least, he was alive. If he returned to Cybertron, there were big chances that more than just one soldier (Autobot or Decepticon, the faction didn't exactly mattered) would try to kill him… and succeed. Return was almost suicidal, and he didn't love his planet so much anyway. No. He had no reasons to go back…
In the end, the Seeker simply patted the delegate's shoulder while saying that he was sorry, but nothing she could say would make him change his mind. If there had to be another war to make the people understand that Rattrap wasn't a true leader, there would be a war then. But he wasn't returning just to get himself killed…
Understanding, Windblade thanked him for his time and abandoned the apartment.
As she walked outside of the motel, the idea of return emptyhanded made her sob. The whole planet was breaking down in front of her eyes, yet she couldn't do a damn thing. She was no Cybertronian, so she couldn't assume the role of ruler; her only hope was to find a native of Cybertron who would, and Starscream was right now her only option… If he didn't take the job…
But, seeing it from his point of view, how could he? Rattrap exposed his dirty moves in front of everyone. He aired the secret meeting that Starscream held with Swindle in the newsflash! Now everyone in Cybertron and the colonies knew that the Seeker was the responsible one for the Combiner Wars that took place a bunch of quartex ago. Many would kill him on sight. Yes. He wasn't stupid enough to return… No without warranties, not.
"What do I do now?" The Camien thought, while walking towards the port, where she had better reception and could call Wheeljack for a space-bridge…
The only problem was that someone hijacked her before she could reach the place.