I didn't realize I didn't add an author's note in Shorty, Shorty until hours later when it was uploaded.
Good thing is, I'm starting to get the hang of this, so here's officially my first author's note.
Just to clarify, Shorty, Shorty takes place sometime after "Evolution", but before Shockwave finds out about the cybermatter at the end of the episode.
This is sort of a second piece, so I suggest you stop here and read Shorty, Shorty before continuing. The story will make a bit more sense if you read that first.
Transformers doesn't belong to me, if it was, the movies would be way better and the shows wouldn't have been cancelled or cut short as Prime was. Also, not making cash off this.
And Breakdown lives because the guy went through a lot in the show and he deserves to live.
"You there!" Starscream jabbed a digit at the lonesome Vehicon stepping in to the bridge. "What are you doing?"
Steve froze, a Cybertronian-sized broom in his servos. Was it a trick question? Regardless, Steve replied. "S-sweeping, sir."
"Do you honestly think the floor's going to clean itself? I don't pay you to just stand there, drone." The Seeker snapped.
Wait. Steve thought. I'm not getting paid at all. But it would be suicide to speak against his superior, so with a quick and somewhat awkward salute, the Vehicon said "Sir, yes sir!" and got back to sweeping.
"Oh, all the work I must do as Second in Command." Starscream theatrically sighed. "But nothing would get done on this ship without me."
"Ah, there you are, my most hardworking and trusted companion."
Starscream shot a glance around the bridge, seeing no one of importance that would warrant such a greeting from their illustrious leader, before hesitantly pointing at himself.
"Yes, you, for who else I could be talking about?"
A smirk crawled up his faceplates.
"I regret not saying it nearly enough, but your contribution to the Deception cause is and has always been invaluable."
The Seeker stood up a little straighter and definitely prouder. It was about time his talent and capability as the Decepticon SIC was recognized.
"Oh yeah, he's talking about me." Starscream striked a pretentious pose, feeling overconfident. He glanced to the side at Steve and gestured at himself. Starscream's smug expression said everything. Megatron is talking about ME.
Steve, of course, didn't care, and kept sweeping.
"I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you." The Decepticon leader paused, unsurprisingly. He always did have a knack for dramatic pauses.
"Why, Megatron!" Starscream started to speak, flamboyantly stressing the syllables. He needed to appeal to Megatron's ego if he wanted a pay raise. He was about to detail a list of Megatron's best qualities when the warlord walked right past him without even giving him a glance, and announced, "Soundwave!"
What?
Starscream's wings drooped with every step Megatron took away from him. Behind him, Steve snickered. Starscream shot him a lethal glare that shut him up.
"Soundwave," The warlord repeated, putting a hand on the communication chief's shoulder. Megatron's voice went low as if he didn't want anyone to notice, but that action grabbed the SIC's attention, because he didn't get to where he was in life by not listening in to conversations when voices went conspiratorially low.
"There is a grave matter that must be resolved immediately, but we shall discuss of it in private." Megatron rumbled. "No one else can know of this."
The decision was made before the two left the bridge. But first… Starscream turned around to face the drone. "What do you think you're looking at?"
"N-nothing sir!"
"Precisely what I thought." He nodded with a huff and walked out, but not before stopping to savagely kick a pile of dust just to see the Vehicon's dismay at the mess. Oh, sweet revenge. No one laughs at Starscream. No one.
The throne room was situated above the bridge, meaning it was a matter of taking a few turns and a trip up the lift to get there. But since Starscream was trying not to get seen…it meant taking even more turns. Then, and only then, he'd go up the lift.
Tiptoeing carefully through the halls, he turned a corner, and saw a mech coming straight towards him. Megatron! He'll know I heard and then he'll kill me and…
"I didn't hear anything I swear!" Starscream shielded his eyes, awaiting the blow.
When nothing happened, he peeped through the gaps of his digits. It was none other than Knock-Out staring at him curiously.
"Oh. It's you." Starscream said distastefully, composing himself to a more dignified stance.
Knockout lowered his datapad. "Pardon?"
"Nothing! It's none of your concern."
"Alright." He shrugged and began to walk away.
Starscream stood there in the hallway with his arms crossed, watching Knockout leave. One second. Two seconds.
"Ugh! I can't believe he would do this to me!"
"Oh, here we go again," The medic sighed, not even bothering to look up from the datapad. Still, Starscream was no 'drama queen', as the human term went. No. He was The Drama Queen, note the capitalization and emphasis. Knockout's only consolation was the fact there was absolutely no one else on board who had this exact same insufferable characteristic similar to the SIC. He couldn't imagine having two dramatic mechs on board.
"He picked Soundwave over me! ME! Why would he ever think Soundwave is more trustworthy to tell this 'grave matter' to than me?"
"Yes, believe me, I am just as baffled as you are." Knockout responded sarcastically. Either Starscream noticed the obvious insincerity dripping off his voice and decided not to point it out, or he was really in the ranting zone today.
"I'M the SIC, not him. Second. As in 2. As in before 3! As in, it's my job to hear what Lord Megatron has to say, not Soundwave's!"
"Careful, Starscream." Knockout warned, swiping a digit across the screen in one long clean stroke. "Keep going and you might actually sound jealous."
"JEALOUS?" His voice cracked. "Of course I'm not jealous. All I'm saying is that if there was a serious problem, Lord Megatron should have told me instead."
"Hmm." Tap. Tap. Swipe.
"What!?"
"Nothing, just that they must have reached the throne room by now." It was rather amusing to watch the metamorphosis of the Seeker's face go from outraged to stupefied as the comment sank in to horrified realization he was right (as per usual might he add).
"Frag!" The SIC high-tailed it out of there. "If I miss the good stuff, I'm blaming you!"
The thing about Starscream was that most of what he ranted about was meant to be tuned out. However, in some occasions, it paid not to cave in to the desire to turn the audios all the way down to silent when the Seeker was around. Over time, Knockout realized that Starscream's rants were actually an excellent source of…updates, regarding the other mechs on board. By now, Knockout had a pretty thick file full of blackmail.
"Now, that's quite something."
"But if Lord Megatron finds out I know, I'm a dead mech! Which is why it must never leave this room, do you hear me?!"
"Of course, Kommandant! Consider it doctor-patient confidentiality."
"Good." Starscream nodded and turned around to the sight of Breakdown walking into the med-bay. Still paranoid about getting caught, the SIC yelped, wings snapping upwards defensively as his digits instinctively tensed to lash out at any moment before he could stop himself.
Breakdown blinked and watched the SIC storm off hissing what certainly weren't compliments, before turning towards the red medic and thumbing over his shoulder. "What's with him?"
"Well…" Knockout drawled with a slow, treacherous smirk. "I'm not one to say, but since you asked…"
Breakdown finished the last of his mid-solar cycle cube with one final swig and set it down on the table "So yeah, that's what happened."
"No way!" Jerry gasped. "Are you serious?"
The blue mech lifted his servos up from the table nonchalantly, "Hey, it's what Knockout said. But don't tell anyone, okay guys? No one's supposed to know about it."
There was a chorus of agreement from the group of Vehicons sitting with the one-opticed bruiser. Sitting wasn't the right word though. Huddled would be more accurate. They were all hunched over, talking quietly lest someone heard them. And by someone they meant Lord Megatron, Predaking, or more of a threat, Knockout. It was better being shot at by Megatron or half-melted by Predaking's flames than being at the complete mercy of the only Decepticon on board who knew your insides better than you did.
"There he is! Quiet everyone." Carl hissed, flapping his servos up and down in a motion not entirely unlike humans trying to put out an accidental fire by waving at it pointlessly. They turned their backs to the massive Decepticon coming in dangerously close (suddenly the choice to sit at the closest table to the closest dispenser seemed pretty idiotic). It didn't go unnoticed by Predaking, who ultimately brushed off the behavior of the group with a weirded out what-is-wrong-with-them glance before getting his cube and leaving the rec-room.
"Holy scrap!" Steve hoarsely squeaked. "He is taller!"
The cube Soundwave gave him in the morning had served its use, but now, Megatron required another cube for the day. Everyone on board was given a daily ration of 3 cubes. When mining operations were successful, a 4th cube could be added. Some troops would use the extra Energon to create high-grade and save it when celebrating a recent victory over the latest scuffle with the blasted Autobots.
Thing was, he was starting to regret coming out of the throne room. Megatron could swear he saw a visor looking at him this time. He could feel the looks burning through his plating. Staring. Except when he turned to the gazes at the corners of his optics, it was gone. Ridiculous, he kept telling himself. Nothing but troops doing their duties and keeping to themselves as per usual AND SOMEONE WAS LOOKING!
The warlord whipped around so fast in the middle of the hallway he almost snapped his tense neck cables as his red optics flitted in all directions. Yet again, nothing was out of the ordinary. No one was looking. No one. Everyone was minding their own business, apparently. Megatron felt tempted to call Soundwave again, the TIC always knew how to make him feel better, but the necessity for the energon overruled the desire to talk. Besides, he knew he could count on Soundwave that his predicament (because it totally wasn't a problem! He wasn't jealous Predaking was taller than him or anything) would stay between the two of them. There was absolutely no way anyone else would ever find out and Megatron intended to keep it that way.
It took a lot of will to not turn around when he felt the prickling looks. As the Decepticon leader got closer to the rec-room, the noise coming from inside became louder and louder. That made him freeze right before the door sensors triggered. His typical scowl deepened. What in the Pit was going on in there? There wasn't any reason to celebrate. Unless… Megatron shook his helm. No! No. Impossible. No one knew.
He stepped in. And everything went from incessant buzz to eerie silence in less time than it took him to get inside and the doors to shut once more. Megatron picked up on someone from the troops hissing 'Don't look him in the optics!', but it was so faint and distorted by the large space he wasn't sure if it was real or not.
Clearing his voice-box, he squared his shoulders to regain some dignity and moved to his usual energon dispenser. The sensation of gazes behind him multiplied. Now Megatron was never all that concerned about his appearance, there weren't such luxuries in the gladiator pits of Kaon, much less now during the war. As long as he looked terrifying and imposing, Megatron could live with dull finishes and scratches and scars. Scars were cool back then. But in that moment, when he was so certain everyone was looking at him, Megatron found himself really understanding why Knockout considered buffing a bare necessity. It still made everyone look, but at least it was looks of either admiration for the flashy paintjob or jealousy or scorn at the ridiculous emphasis the medic put on physical appearance.
Not like this. The sneers he could feel everyone was giving him, judging him, belittling him, mocking him... He reached up to scratch a serious itch on his left forearm, and stopped mid-scratch as it made so much noise. Primus. It was too quiet. Not even Soundwave was this quiet. He could hear his vents and his hammering spark which meant everyone else could. The sheer lack of noise had his audios cranked up to max in an attempt to pick up on something, anything really. He'd even take Starscream's shrieking over this madness. Then something creaked and he was spinning to the source with his fusion cannon whining to power so fast as if he had heard a gunshot from Optimus Prime himself.
Yet there was nothing. Merely troops sitting on benches with their heads low and cubes left untouched on the tables. If it wasn't for his ticking chronometer, Megatron would have been sure his optics had glitched and he was seeing a frozen image. That's how still and quiet everyone was. His cannon powered down. This is completely normal. The troops have always been this way. No one knows. It's all in your processor, he assured himself as he reached the dispenser.
It's all in your processor. No one knows. Megatron repeated as he got his cube.
All in your processor. All in your processor. He almost crushed the cube on his way out, but that would mean going back in there and getting another cube. The mere thought had him move a tad faster, just enough so no one could notice he was rushing. As soon as the doors closed, the noise came back.
Then Megatron hightailed it out of there straight towards his quarters, plunging himself into darkness where his optics would be frantically trying to catch the ghostly stares (THEY WERE REAL HE JUST KNEW IT) watching from the deepest darkest corners of his quarters all night long.
THEY KNEW!
Clearly, there's no other logical explanation than his height issue making Megatron go crazy, am I right?