JMJ

Chapter Forty-four

Cursed

Optimus had been no hypocrite. He believed in justice, honesty, and the greater good and the spirituality, even, of good and evil— that evil only brought despair and painful hatred and goodness brought hope and peace not just for those around a person but for the person himself even after a spark has returned to the Allspark. That ultimately good was better and stronger than evil, and that Good was the beginning of the universe and its end and that evil was a passing shadow that would in time swallow itself in darkness with all it had managed to suck into it like a black hole.

Hmph! Starscream sniffed as he caught himself thinking almost tenderly upon this subject.

Starscream could not allow himself to believe those things. Evil was relative. Goodness was a quality of physical integrity. The ideals of Megatron had always made more sense to him—the power of self, the unity for a better Cybertron as the main strength and power in the universe, for respect among the stars, for glory.

Megatron imparted to him the foundation of self fulfillment of one's own abilities by one's own power, and, well, yes, working together with everyone else's united powers. That was always the part of Megatron's philosophy that somehow Starscream did not feel applied to himself. But ever had Starscream longed to prove his power perhaps even more than gaining more power. Cybertron could have been a beacon of power in the universe by proving what it already had.

Every planet could have paid them homage— could have worshiped them like gods while the elite of Cybertron surveyed the commune existence of the others, but everything had failed. Megatron had gone mad, and Starscream knew deep down that it was more than several deaths that had driven his master mad. It had been his quest for power.

That quest for power had led Megatron to things he should not have allowed. Allowing his senses to be controlled in order to control did not make sense in the end. Starscream shuddered now to think of that power that had only once pulsed through him, but had affected him for so long afterwards. That power had been gained only by giving up one's will to do so, a gamble that one might be taken over instead of the power being controlled by one. Of course, Unicron was captured and his power was useless now, but it made Starscream sick to think that he may have been controlled just as Megatron had for those brief spurts because of what he had done. Now Megatron was offline. His sanity had long before left him. It was possible it had left him since the moment he put dark energon inside of himself and it had only grown worse from there before his demise.

It made Starscream wonder fearfully, now that he was alone in the dark in a place where not even a guard would listen to him, if somehow that power still stirred within him.

Was he cursed with a vampiric living-death?

Maybe.

Maybe that was why he could not join Cybertron renewed.

"But it's not my fault!" he wailed.

Maybe if he had not been so cursed he might have been out there too.

"It's Megatron's fault," he spat into the blackness. "He tricked me. He had always tricked me. He had used me from the beginning. He had never cared about me! And as for Optimus Prime? He was no better. He did not try hard enough to rescue me from this curse! Weak and foolish, a sentimental preacher for virtue impossible to achieve…"

He huffed as his thoughts continued to support his words.

Optimus had expected too much from Starscream! He had trusted his followers too much. It was Arcee's fault he had not joined them when he had really wanted to. Even when he tried to be good, when he really tried—

"…And believe me," he agreed with himself, "what a strain on a poor creature like myself that is."

He had always been denied either way and pushed down lower than before. Even true loyalty to Megatron had only led to this.

"If I wanted to be good now, according to Optimus' ways," he told himself, "even if my optics were bluer than the sky above, I would be denied the very warmth of the sun still, the song of the air against my wings, the feel of the wind…"

Here he would be forever in this darkness with no means of escape. He knew this to be so. He had already tried so many times to escape before his trial. Only that traitor Skywarp had ever succeeded in escaping, and that had been pure luck. Not like Starscream— the most pitiful of sparks in the known universe.

Starscream possessed self-pity that he felt he rightfully deserved. No one else would take pity on him. Only two ever had and whether their intentions were honorable or not, it grieved Starscream to know that they were dead. He felt positive Optimus would have given him some sort of a chance to prove himself. He was convinced of this, but that was the irony of it.

Wallowing in irony was the best way to wallow, and no one wallowed more regally and without restraint than Starscream.

#

He did not know for how long he wallowed. It seemed like eternity, but it was strange, he had to admit, that in time the emotions became sluggish even if not diminished. Cybertronians were meant to live a very long time, and monotony was something a Cybertronian, even with a busy, circuitous mind like Starscream's, could handle far better than a person of most other races could. In time he went into a sort of standby-mode and only moved to take his energon sent through his slot in the wall. The pacing had ended, but his mind still thought.

He began to give up hope of ever seeing the light of day, but he did not give up the ironic thought that Optimus would have given him a chance. He knew— or thought he knew— right down to the core of his spark, so that he nearly came to think of him as the only friend he had ever had. Starscream had a way of allowing his emotions to create his reality even when sluggish, and he was finally so convinced of his friendship with Optimus that he wished Optimus was there before him.

He could almost feel that he was there in reality. Surely that lighter shade in the darkness silhouetted that regal form.

It was perhaps a little more than just emotion this time. It was actual regret, perhaps still rather selfish, but a regret that he had not taken Optimus' offer for peace all that long time ago when at the time being in charge had felt so important.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after days of pondering over this one thought. "Really and truly I am."

Honestly, he was sorrier for himself than he was sorry that his actions had been wrong, but he felt that his apology was the most sincere one he had ever made.

"If I ever get the chance to come out of this wretched hole, I'll be different," he promised the deceased Optimus Prime some time later, and this time he was a little more sincerely sorry, but not by much. "I will follow your ways. I won't be a follower of that mad fool Megatron and his cursed Cause for all the good it's ever done me. I'd humble myself before you if I could. I will be your loyal servant— or Bumblebee's if you so wish. Something Megatron was certainly too proud to do!"

Later still, he added, "I promise… I promise… I'll amend my ways, even though I know I have many faults. I will be the meekest and most honorable and most dutiful of all your subjects if only you gave me Knock Out's chance for redemption and that I could escape this anguish!"

He had made so many empty promises in his life, but he felt that his word in his cell was the most genuine that anyone could make.

And yet the very next day he was on Megaton's side when he felt his promises ignored. Optimus was a self-righteous fool, after all. Megatron had been the right one; though he never dared to speak directly to him as he had to Optimus. When speaking to Megatron nearly erupted out of his oral vent, fear struck him. It might have been a tad superstitious, but he thought he could almost feel his piercing optics and the heat of his rage radiating off of his body as though he really was hovering over him as in times of old.

He blinked into the darkness.

Surely, even his shadow was there. A silhouette just a little darker than the rest of the darkness around him.

"Pfft!"

With a growl Starscream shook his head. The macabre fancy of his master's ghost vanished.

"They both were fools!" snapped Starscream loudly just to hear his own empty echo against the chamber walls to prove he was in a small cell and not in some dark corridor or hall in a forgotten Decepticon lair. "Both of them are offline and I'm the one who survived! I'll figure out a way to trick someone into letting me out even if it takes a thousand years!"

But he soon grew tired of yelling to no one who would answer. Loneliness overtook him again. He sat down upon the plain metal seat jutting out of the wall.

He sighed wearily and drooped his head slowly downwards until it was nearly between his knees. His shoulders hunched high above him and his wings sagged against the seat. Then, with hands gently placed over his legs, he became still and blinked at the outline of his legs and feet glowing in the dim light of his optics.

"I should have listened to Optimus Prime, after all," he murmured sorrowfully; though standby-mode was overtaking him again. "I should have gone with him while there was no Megatron to report to… when there was nothing hovering over me but my own pride… no… …. I should have gone with you, the rightful Prime, from the very beginning that day over the bathhouse."

Even before he finished speaking, Starscream knew perfectly well that the cycle was beginning all over again.

#

Although his senses told him that the explosion was very near, it felt very far away. His consciousness hardly registered it as anything but a low sound in the distance through a veil of memory and time.

Only for a second.

The alarms of his physical body won out. The explosion had hardly finished its rumbling before he broke free from his standby-mode as though he crashed through a wall. Indeed parts of a wall had broken against him.

"Hgh!" Starscream cracked feeling stiff and cold quite suddenly.

His joints creaked as he looked up.

His optics widened.

Had he gone mad? Delusional?

No, the wall was still crumbling before his optics. The light beyond was as real as his own optics.

He stared gaping in disbelief at the pod that had torn through that wall with laser and drill. Alarms and flashing erupted from behind it outside, and he found himself almost more drawn to the outside world than to the pod in front of him. The city buildings, the sounds of vehicles— of jets! Lights winking, lights pulsing!

He took a few dazed steps towards the cracks around the pod. Up at the stars, he gazed above the brilliantly-built new capital of Cybertron. His optics glazed over at their full capacity, and he smiled stupidly. A twitch formed beneath an optic, as though he had gone at least partly mad. His wings twitched insect-like.

But he was suddenly sobered— or at least frightened, by the sudden bursting forth of someone from the pod.

"Skywarp?!" he shrieked.

Again he blinked stupidly as he watched Skywarp leap out deftly and land in front of him. A first glance told him instantly what bad of shape he was in.

A worn-face and scorch marks upon his body would have been bad enough, but it was the sounds that made Starscream feel queasy. Sparking sounds and queer whirring and grinding escaped from somewhere behind Skywarp's outer casing and within his inner-workings. They sounded painful. The gleaming crimson of one optic flickered strangely.

Skywarp smiled then. It made it all the worse, for it looked more deranged and wild than Starscream thought possible on Skywarp's face.

"At last!" he hissed in a manner that was not at all like Skywarp. "I found you, Starscream. I knew that you had been captured here."

"Skywarp!" Starscream laughed a little and backed up against the far wall near to the door; he paused. "Are you… quite yourself?"

"Quick," Skywarp snapped. "Get back in the pod, and we'll escape before anyone knows. I'll bring you to Lord Megatron where we are to lead the ranks. He demands his first lieutenant."

Utterly shocked, Starscream's mind went blank as he stared gaping.

"Come on!" Skywarp insisted, grabbing Starscream by the arm and pulling him forward. "Victory is—tzwz—is within our grasp! And we need everyone there!"

"But Lord Megatron is dead!" squeaked Starscream, now he really did think he had gone mad. "And the alarms have to have already alerted everyone within the city boundaries!"

Surely, none of this was real. Surely this was all some horribly cruel fabrication of his mind.

Furious at such a remark, Skywarp, much out of character, threw Starscream onto the ground. Starscream allowed himself to fall limp at his feet, having no will to fight him.

"Traitor," snarled Skywarp, and he straightened and sniffed as he lifted his arm preparing to fire a missile. "I knew it. You're still only a coward, Starscream. Lord Megatron no longer—tzwz—no longer— tzwz— has patience for cowards."

"Guards! Somebody!" wailed Starscream backing away again still sprawled on the ground as he pushed with his hands until he hit the wall as before.

He let out a small cry and shielded his face with his arms. "Help! He's crazy!"

"Ah, so you are friends with the Autobots," remarked Skywarp. "Then I will terminate you."

"Wait, Skywarp!" Starscream whimpered; he threw his arms out to Skywarp's legs.

Skywarp backed up in disgust but was not quick enough to evade his grasp.

"Please!" Starscream begged. "We're like brothers you and I! Please, for old time's sake!" His voice cracked into a pitiful squeak.

"Our relationship means nothing when it comes to the survival of the Decepticon Cause!"

"Well!" gasped Starscream scrambling for the right words and tapping his chin. "I thought it was standard procedure that all traitors were to be brought to Lord Megatron himself." He grinned senselessly. "Right? That has always been standard procedure, has it not?"

Skywarp looked thoughtful briefly. He could hear his mental processors grinding with the effort, but Starscream's stupid grin widened hopefully. Then Skywarp shrugged as he returned to Starscream.

"Not with Starscream!" Skywarp spat.

Then he lifted his missile hand into Starscream's face again.

"No!" Starscream screamed.

But just before the hum ended for the blast, a great bulk blocked Starscream's vision. Blinking as he collapsed onto the floor again, he saw the guards jumping Skywarp. They were unknowns. He did not recognize them. As he began to watch the inanity of Skywarp reach its peak with screams and snarls he had never heard from the vocal processor of his fellow Seeker, he could feel his own inner-workings heat up. Panting was eminent, but he ended up more letting out a strange gulp as another guard grabbed him.

"Move him to a new cell immediately," said one of the guards to the one who now had him.

The one above him agreed.

They were the new generation. The hatchlings at full maturity. Their youthful voices revealed that well-enough, but they were young and strong and resolute. Their naivety seemed to give them further strength rather than not. Starscream was a criminal, but they did not know Starscream. Not really. Not Skywarp either. They had practiced their drills, and they had no doubt in the words of their elders.

It made it all the more surreal. Starscream was as limp as a wet tarp.

What had happened to Skywarp, Starscream could not rightly make out.

He was still so in a daze that by the time he was removed to a new cell he did not know whether he had dreamt the occurrence somehow or not, except that his markings he had clawed on the walls of his old cell were gone.

But who knows, he thought goofily, maybe I dreamt all that too.