[Prologue]
To be ignored was both a blessing and a curse. No one got involved in his business, but he neve got a second opinion. He slipped from one room to another unnoticed, but no one inquired about the wicked yet pained expression he wore. He was high enough in rank to go where he pleased, but no one gave a slag if he came back or not. Second on Command was a respected title, but he never got any respect. He was the toughest Seeker from the academy, but he had lost count of how many times his aft had been kicked to the curb for the sake of entertainment. Overall, his circumstances yielded advantages that a genius like himself could not pass up. Unfortunately, such things come with a price, and Starscream was getting tired of the nine million years and counting that he had spent paying. Paying to the bot that least deserved it.
Starscream was miserable. He was familiar enough with misery to know how to bounce back and move on, but every cycle seemed a little more cruel that the last. Back in the early days, Megatron was usually content to just punch him and send him to a different room. That old rusty bag of bolts got more creative over time though. Trapping him in his alt mode, abandoning him to the Autobots, beating him to the edge of stasis lock, constant humiliation in front of the other Decepticons and destroying any reputation he had left. It was no wonder that everyone ignored him. Megatron made it a habit to tell everyone just how useless he thought Starscream was. Why was he ever surprised by the countless schemes against him? The assassination attempts? The heated arguments? The constant betrayal and lies? No doubt, anyone else would do the same. Yes, Starscream was sure of his rightness. Megatron was a pathetic leader and deserved to suffer for it. He just needed to make it happen!
That was the goal brewing under his helm. One more ultimate plan. The final victory. The plot that would bestow upon him the power he deserved. This was the moment. This moment would bring him the coveted title... or getting offlined by the cold hands of Megatron.
Silent as a ghost, the multi-colored Seeker discreetly but casually made his way through the bland halls of the Decepticon base. The warrior class ignored him, scientists ignored everyone in general, and mindless Vehicons weaved among them all loaded with cargo and processor-numbing errands.
At least a dozen drones walked past him, completely taken with whatever order they were obeying. At least, Starscream assumed such. Vehicons did not have sparks and were under the control of a bot that did have one. No need to guess who. That was what he was told, at least. They did, however, take orders from anyone higher in rank as long as the commands did not contradict. This little design flaw was essential for his next move against his soon to be former leader. This scheme would triumph over every miserable failure. Starscream could see that future clearly. The defeated Megatron, offlined on the ground, and an army of loyal Vehicons at his back ensuring a long and successful reign on power. The Autobots would surrender in terror, Optimus Prime imprisoned to suffer for eternity. The Decepticons would finally learn to respect him. The ever silent Soundwave had the potential to become a valuable Second in Command with those cassette spies of his. He might keep Shockwave. Or send him to deep space. Whatever feels more "logical" at the time. As the leader, Starscream could do anything and never be questioned or beaten again.
All hail Lord Starscream!
The unused storage room flaunted an impressive amount of Earth dirt and cobwebs from those unsavory tiny beasts, which was not surprising considered that no one bothered to come to this area often enough to warrant a thorough cleaning. The ten Vehicons standing in the middle of the room, arms loaded with tools and spare parts, did not seem to care. A few stood closer to the walls, expecting to be ordered to start cleaning. Most remained stationary, unsure of how to proceed with Commander Starscream's vague order to leave the upper levels of the base and follow his instructions as quickly as possible. The Seeker gasped something about Megatron's health being at risk, so every one of them complied. They were aware of their Lord's opinion of Starscream and his less than ideal reputation, though they had no opinion themselves. Work was work. It must be done to Megatron's satisfaction.
The most experienced of the group stood tall in the middle, overseeing the newer batch. New models with purple paintjobs and menacing sharp edges. Below average guns waited in their appendages, and blank visors covered the red optics on the other side. They had only been cobbled together with the parts of fallen warriors a few mega-cycles ago. Old enough to take orders but not mature enough to truly comprehend anything more complex than guard duty and basic chores. Why Starscream picked them out specifically was beyond him. Any drone can work efficiently. Why pick the naïve ones? The older model wondered if that was a deliberate decision or just an unwise one. The devious Seeker was capable of either.
The drone remained silent as Starscream locked them in the room and proceeded to explain his "project" on Megatron's behalf. It started out normal enough. The commander informed them the Autobots have stepped up their game, and with the help of their human pets, have created defense systems that can keep out Vehicons and even some of the Casseticons as well. This revolutionary technology had the potential to get more advanced, perhaps one day be able to identify any Decepticons and repel it indefinitely. The Seeker's plan, of course, was to start making modifications on the newer models to make them immune to the Autobots supposed defenses. It may even be possible to make Vehicons resistant to opponent weaponry in combat. All the commander wanted was to try it out on some "willing" volunteers. The Vehicons said nothing, though a few young models took the slightest step back. They could not refuse without reason, but none of them wanted to be experimented on by Starscream of all mechs. The older drone felt the slightest tinge of suspicion that something was off, but he was all too aware that they had no say in what the commander wanted to do with them. So, he stepped forward first. If it was all a trick, perhaps the other drones would the chance to signal back to Megatron or Soundwave. This old drone would put up a fight if necessary.
The Seeker wore a victorious smirk as the drone allowed him access to his circuitry. Prickling sensations zipped up and down his structure as signals of confusion and distress started bouncing around among the others after Starscream opened him up and started picking him apart. It was painful to have his insides podded, moved, twisted, and jerked, but flinching would have made it so much worse. The drone remained focused on the grey face frowning in concentration and not the blue hands manipulating the delicate parts that kept him alive.
"You should not look your superior in the optics like that," the Seeker snapped while shifted through tangled wires, "You stupid drones should know your place." He stepped around the drone and began on the inside of the helm, leaving the chest plates open. "You will be much more useful to me when these thick heads of yours are empty. After a fresh start, you will have plenty of opportunities to impress me."
The drone felt awakened and dreadfully cold for the first time. Empty? A fresh start? A few warbles and chirps of increased stress emitted from the young group. Primus, their memories were going to be erased. Nine visors with wide optics underneath focused on their eldest, silently begging for an excuse to leave or start firing in defense or report the experimentation to a superior officer. They knew nothing. They were too young. None of them had ever fired a weapon before. They just ran errands. Cleaned floors. Polished armor. That was all they had, and they wanted to keep it, but not a single Decepticon knew that drones could feel anything at all.
Rage. Rage. Rage. RAGE.
With the spark of a gladiator, the drone made a grab for the commander's hands while also delivering a punch to his faceplates. Starscream flailed and landed on his aft in an admittedly hilarious fashion. That screechy voice yelping like a kicked sparkling made it even funnier.
"Go!" The drone addressed the others vocally, surprising them into action.
They scattered like blinded Insecticons, some heading for the locked door, some staying put and sending distress calls to Soundwave, and others clutching the tools tightly and reluctantly expecting orders from someone else. Chaos. The Seeker was standing again with a look of murder directed at the drones. The fire had been lit long ago, and he clearly wanted someone to burn. Someone to blame. Starscream's hands found him again, ripping delicate parts away instead of experimenting this time. Hand to hand combat, uncommon as it was in real fight, often ended up being what determined the cleverest fighter. The drone did not stand a chance. The Seeker was too fast and too cunning. Too good at cheaply ripping into an opponent to make the fight easier.
It happened too fast. The defiant mech took his last blow before landing on the dusty ground, a heavy foot planted on his helm to keep him there. Starscream wore a scrap-eating grin of triumph. His mouth started to open and unleash some egocentric monologue, but when his optics hit the back of the room, the triumph was replaced with horror. One, two, three, four, five in the back. Six, seven, eight in the middle. Nine under his foot.
The door was open.