there's a million&one ways
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A/N: physics class + story = epic lateness
replies:
inspire165,, sunny just being a typical, upset sociopath. -grabs spray paint and fluffy hello kitty stickers- mind if i join you? :3 && don't get too mad at Screamer -- he's just being his usual bitchy self. though how jetfire has put up with it for so long has left me confused.
autobot alythia,, whoo! speechless person! -dances- :D && thankies. ^^
happy farmer,, jetfire + starscream = otp
ever free,, yeah sorry, my updates are kind've slow b/c of my physics class. . . :'c
yuki hikari,, all at once??? O.O holy ******!!! && i'm glad you enjoyed reading it. c:
tlcoopi7,, well if they do fight, i'm gonna bet on the seekers, but cheer for sunny.
cadence barrick,, glad you find it exciting. ^^ hopefully this one will be as good as the other chapters. c:
pairings: starscreamxannabelle vs. ironhidexannabelle; what a twisted little triangle of love.
disclaimer: i do not own transformers or any of them; they are rightfully copy-writed to their respectful owners.
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"Affirmative," the mech answered in a rough, almost regretful sounding voice. The autobot spun his wheels radically to the left, sending him sliding on the slick black top. He shifted to four wheel drive and assumed control over all four of his heavy duty wheels. His engine growled angrily as he was forced to return to the Lennox. Ironhide tried to convince himself it was better that Jetfire and Optimus given him another task (that involved the Lennox family) since he was within a close proximity to the humans' residence, but he couldn't quite get the pissy, irritable feeling of having another chore to do out of his systems. This task was just another defensive maneuver. It felt as if everything the autobots did was a defensive maneuver, and the soldier was growing tired of being on the defensive. There was no (lasting) satisfaction or feelings of 'c'mon!' from being on the defensive. Sure, they had always scrapped together a win and usually enough time to lick their wounds; but then they went back on the defensive once more. It felt half-assed, and for a bot who made war his profession, knew half-assing was not how you won a war.
It was how you lost a war. . .
And Ironhide was tired of the autobot's pitiful ways of dealing with hostile situations. His original hopes that Optimus would come to see the war his way were but dust in the wind. If it had been his way, Ironhide would already have been "negotiating" with the decepticons -- holding a canon to Starscream's spark while his brothers watched. It was the only way decepticons understood negotiations. But no, they were on a search and rescue mission once again. It was enough to gag the weapon specialist.
Cars flashed him as he drove on without headlights or windshield wipers working. A few even honk at the so-called "crazy" driver, but the autobots couldn't give a damn. Headlights and windshield wipers only drained his energy faster. Quarter-sized hail and gushing rain didn't phase the mech. Years of living in remote regions caused him to think little about the gathering line of storms. After all, rain was rain -- no matter what form you change it into.
But as the rain continued to pound against his ebony exoskeleton, he couldn't help but keep his canons humming with power. He wasn't afraid of the rain, but he couldn't calm his battle-anxious nerves -- not with the seekers out there. They, he swore to Primus, were the bane of his existence. Had it not been for them, he was sure they would be in a better position than they were in now. 'If we hadn't taken Starscream's offer, we wouldn't be like this,' he grumbled not to himself, but to his old friends. A pinch of sadness hung on his thoughts. 'If we'd shot him down like I said we should, then - ' The old soldier couldn't finish the thought. There was too much guilt in it for him to handle, but more importantly he had to focus on the current mission at hand. . . even if it was a simple, rather ridiculous mission.
Lingering thoughts, more like memories, refused to leave him alone. And as the thunder crackled, he was pulled back into his memories. . . Thunder, so much like the current thunder, echoed in his audio sensors, but there a hidden sound concealed underneath the loud boom -- the sound of a humming engine. He stood atop the reck of a fallen building, and hid underneath the shambling of another building. His optics hatefully scanned the foreign clouded skies. Pure determination and revenge flickered behind his hate. Oh how much he hated the rain. He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't dare turn around. "We'll find 'em," Springer stated confidently.
"Yeah!" Bumper added enthusiastically. "And when we do, they'll wish they'd never been spawned!" The inexperienced warrior's eyes gleamed eagerly. But the optimistic words had little effect on their commanding officer. The nine foot tall yellow 'bot's gaze turned to Springer with concern. Springer looked down when the 'bot looked at him. "I mean, they'll get it real good, Ironhide," he said. He put on a fake smile. "Just imagine it! The seekers gone! It'll be great!"
He let his hand slid off Ironhide's shoulder. He looked proudly over at Bumper. "Yeah," Springer continued, trying to get Ironhide involved. "It'll be great! Without the seekers, we'll have control of the skies! You'll be able to kick more ass without getting as injured." He jabbed the old soldier lightly in the back. "Might even give Ratchet enough time to recharge." Ironhide let out a huff. The teal face's gaze became serious. "Why don't you go inform Impactor that we're waiting for the cloud cover to burn off."
The little mech nodded and knew full well there was no reason to inform Impactor. He lifted himself up and headed towards the shadows of the fallen buildings. There some things, as Springer had put it earlier, that only those who had been there could talk about, but these "clubs" weren't something anyone wanted to be part of. Springer had made it his job to remind Bumper of this often; but he couldn't help himself as he hid behind a wall and listened to his superiors' conversation.
The fifteen foot mech moved beside Ironhide. He let his azure optics scan the salmon colored skies. Nothing good ever came from clouds on Cybertron. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?" Springer asked as he tip-toed around the touchy subject. He sighed when Ironhide remained silent. He turned his head, and watched as the old soldier stared intently into the skies. "They'll get what's coming for them," he assured. "Optimus will make sure of it."
"Prime," he sneered. He snorted, and briefly took his eyes off the sky. He shook his head at Springer's words. Ironhide's optics glanced at Springer. "He's too kind for his good." He unfolded his arms. His canons slid down to his forearms, but remained inactive. "I can care less what he does to the others," he stated. "All that I care about is what happens to that filthy slag."
"I'm sure Elita will put in a word to Optimus," the second-in-command wrecker replied. "Chromia was her sister after all."
"Doesn't matter," Ironhide muttered.
He folded his arms. This scenario right here was the reason why he enjoyed serving under Impactor and not Ironhide. Impactor, as crude as he could be, would be open with his troops. Ironhide was just the opposite. He only told his troops what they needed to be told. "I thought you said you wouldn't let this get personal?" the mech reminded. Ironhide let out a muffled growl. "You aren't the only one who lost a friend that day."
Ironhide gave Springer a hateful glower. "I know that," he retorted.
"Then stop acting like a decepticon," he spat. He paused, knowing he was treading deep waters with his superior. "We'll have them soon enough, and Chromia will be avenged."
The black mech moved away, and began the slow decent down the scrap heap. "Just cover my back," he grunted. He heard Springer call to Bumper, but he didn't listen to the teal's mech full orders. The sounds of metal bending and snapping underneath his feet echoed throughout the canyon. His optics never left the skies. A flash of blue streaked through the clouds before disappearing. The crackling sound muffled his canons' humming.
BOOM!
Ironhide slid to a stop outside the Lennox house. He found it pitiful that he could drift off into his deepest thoughts and still mindlessly drive himself to the humans' farm house. The mech opened his doors as Annabelle and Sarah (accompanied by Duke) ran out of the house and into his safety. Anna naturally took the front seat. Duke had initially jumped into the back, but had decided being in the driver's seat would be the best place to dry his muddy paws. Sarah, as always, decided staying the back seat of an alien vehicle was the best choice. "I guess Jetfire informed you guys?" he inquired.
Sarah watched as Anna brought the muddy canine into her lap. She nodded. "Yes, he called about ten minutes ago," the woman answered. "Good thing too. There are tornado sirens going off just west of here." The truck turned itself around, and began to drive down the hill. "It's suppose to be like this all night."
Without the dog in the driver's seat, he activated his hologram. His hologram had never changed. The old beaten general had thick, but pale skin. Numerous scars littered his hide. He kept his hologram's light brown hair short enough that it seemed almost redish. There was crows feet along the corners of his eyes, and deep wrinkles engraved on his forehed. He had strong jaw line marked by a cleft chin. "You should invest in a basement or a cellar," Ironhide suggested. His pale blue eyes flicked towards Sarah in the rear view mirror.
"We have a cellar," Sarah reminded.
Anna rolled her eyes. "More like The Pitt," she corrected. She flinched at the sound of an usually loud crackle traveled through the air. The sound was followed by the creaking and snapping of an old evergreen. The whistling sound of the pine needles brushing other trees could not be heard as a domino affect began to occur. Duke stared excitingly out the window. His tail hitting Anna in the neck numerous times.
The sound of two other trees falling to the ground left Sarah slightly spooked. "Haven't heard thunder like that in a long time," she said.
Ironhide generally would've replied, 'You ain't heard nothing.' but even he found himself silent. He hadn't heard thunder that loud in a long time. "Probably just a fluke," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone. The mech went to turn on his XM radio, but he couldn't pick up any signal. 'Stupid rain. . .' he thought hatefully.
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The car ride to the base had been relatively quite. Ironhide had dropped them off before speeding off to rejoin Optimus. He claimed they had some important mission with Sector Seven. His sudden abandoning of them felt like a slap in the face. Being left out of the loop wasn't new to Annabelle -- they had only kept her informed about the basics when it came to most topics -- but the way he acted was abnormal. Something was bugging him, and whatever was bugging him began to turn the gears in her head.
"I don't suppose they have a spare bed room?" Sarah asked as she sat down on the bed. She looked at Annabelle, watching as her daughter stood in the doorway.
"I'm the only human that stays with them," she reminded. "But you can take my bedroom."
"Are you sure?" the human asked.
Anna nodded. "I'm gonna sleep in the reck room," she explained. "And check out this new game that Sunny is so into."
Her mother rolled her eyes. "They really do act like humans sometimes," she commented.
A tiny smiled crept onto her face. "They're intrigued by our culture," she corrected. Anna took a side step as Duke came trotting along. He held one of Ratchet's tools in his mouth. She lurched towards Duke, and pulled out the delicate instrument. "Where'd you get this?" she asked her dog; though she already knew the answer -- Ratchet's medical bay.
"What is that?" Sarah asked curiously.
Anna held it up high enough to keep it out of Duke's reach. "It's a circuit welder," she informed. "Ratchet uses it put delicate circuits together. It's not to be handled by dogs." She sighed. "I'd best go clean it before Ratchet knows it was missing." She spun around on her toes. Annabelle glanced over her shoulder. "You do know where the bathroom is right?" she asked.
Sarah nodded. "Of course, Anna," she answered.
"Good," she replied. "See ya in the morning." Anna strolled out of her mother's sight. Originally she was going to stick to the truth and wash the welder, but Ironhide's silent behavior seemed more important. 'Besides,' she thought. 'I'm sure to run into them on my way to the reck room.' She thought it to be a good enough excuse to wander around. She shoved the welder into her hoodie's pocket. Following Ironhide's words that Jetfire and Ratchet were busy meant they were either doing a science project or busy working at the monitors. Anna turned around the corner and went with her second hunch.
The monitor room, as Anna loved to refer to it, was far off from the reck room. It was also one of the rooms that made you realize how much security there inside the base. Peeking around the corner, she could see the far wall was dedicated to thermal imaging. She could even see her thermal self looking inwards at the monitoring room. "Hey guys," Anna greeted. Walking into the room, she gazed at the two mechs. Jetfire was huddled in a corner, and apparently in his own little world.
Ratchet was the only mech to acknowledge her presence. "Hello Anna," he stated. His optics flashed quickly to her, before continuing to look at the blue screen in front of him.
Anna sighed. "What are you doing all the way over there?" she asked Jetfire. She began to walk towards him. "You look kind've lonely." She smiled at him, but he never looked her way.
"I'm busy, Anna," he stated bluntly.
The girl put her hands on her hips. His answer wasn't sufficient enough. "Oh c'mon, Jetfire," she persisted. Anna reached for his leg, and prepared to climb her way to his shoulders.
"Anna, stop," Jetfire ordered firmly, almost angrily. His blue optics stared down at her. She immediately let go of armor. She jumped onto the ground. She looked at him with a confused eyes. His tone had even caught Ratchet's attention. "Now," he suggested unsparingly. He turned his head back to to the screen in front of him. "Why don't you go to bed or something?"
She nodded. The human obediently turned around and left the room. She had no words to say, and no fight in her to try to persuade Jetfire to let her stay. Ratchet carefully watched as she lowered her head in anguish. The medic's mouth was parted, but he didn't say anything. Hearing firm words from Jetfire was a rare occurrence. When Anna left the room, he heard Jetfire give a heavy sigh. He, liked everyone else, knew that when Jetfire expressed negative emotions that it was only the tip of the ice burg.
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Snap! Crackle! Pop! That was what thunder sounded like in the autobot base. If they had reinforced the walls maybe an inch or two more, then Anna was sure you wouldn't even be able to hear it. But there were certain areas (such as the med bay or Jetfire's room) where you could not hear the thunder, and it was to those rooms where Annabelle retreated. This base, theoretically, was one of the safest places on Earth, but Jetfire's words did little to comfort the human. But this time it was different. She wasn't retreating from the storm, but from the boredom growing in her head. The soft, flipping sound of her feet against the cold, perfectly clean floor echoed off the walls.
There was a soft padding that her feet made as she walked down the crisp, slightly cold floor. Her old and faded navy blue sweats trailed behind her feet, occasionally sticking to the underside of her foot. The ratty holes were a sign of a hard life for the sweats, but to Annabelle they were broken in and comfortable. She slid around the corner casually as if she owned the place. Loose strands of her sun-streaked blonde hair bounced in harmony with her steps; the rest of her hair (which was kept in an off-white clip) did not move. Her steel blue eyes flickered down the hallways for a sign of life, but to her relief they appeared to be empty.
Annabelle came to soft stop outside the door frame. The door were open, a sign that the autobots did not perceive Starscream as a threat, but it could as well have been because the seeker was in a helpless state of being. Without the ability to walk there was little Starscream could do other than "bitch and moan" as Ironhide would have put it. Leaning against the door frame, she peeked inside to see the vague outline of one of the seeker's arms hanging off the table. 'Good,' she thought to herself. The girl took one last glance to her left and then to her right (to insure no one was watching) before entering the room. The light that filtered from the hallway into the medical bay was enough to help guide Anna. Tiptoeing her way around the room, she was careful to avoid the scattered tools.
"If you're trying to be quiet, you're doing a poor job at it."
She spun her head around to see the seeker's piercing, rejuvenated red eyes staring at her. Their calculating stare analyzed her every move, as well as taking in the small, stupid details of her clothing. For a human standards, Anna looked pitiful in her choice of cloth protection. The mud splatters were especially distracting. Ignoring his ridiculing stare, the girl crossed her arms. "Aren't you suppose to be recharging?" she inquired suspiciously.
"I don't require as much needless recharging as you pathetic flesh bags," Starscream retorted. He made sure every word was laced with venom, and purposely reinforced the term 'flesh bags'. Pulling his free arm up, he used it to prop himself into a more comfortable position to watch the human. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he added on coldly. "Because I know for a fact that humans are diurnal, and that at this very moment you should be asleep like the squishy diurnal you are."
"Someone's obviously feeling better," Anna commented sarcastically. She casually maneuvered her way around the room, searching for her little cot. "You didn't answer my question," she reminded. "Aren't you suppose to be asleep?" Plopping herself down onto her blue cot, she leaned against the wall. Anna placed her hands behind her head, and to her delight saw Starscream glower at her for her disregard for him being a decepticon.
He didn't understand how he had found her amusing earlier. All the seeker saw now was a little brat who enjoyed taunting him and reminding him how much he wanted to squish her with his foot. He suppressed the urge to let out an irritable growl. "For your information," Starscream spat. "Your medic gave me lean-way to decided when I want to recharge." His optics darted to the dark container setting on the corner of his make-shit bed.
"Wow!" Anna said sarcastically. "He must really trust you if he let you decide when you want to sleep."
Starscream's slightly grumpy face became sour like old milk. His metallic lips curled into scowl, and the seeker's narrowed his optics on the human. If she was trying to be funny, then she was doing a poor job at making him laugh. And to add insult to injury, she began to snicker. "It's not funny," he stated. He ground his dental platings against one another as she continued to snicker childishly. "I said it's not funny!"
Annabelle stopped her snickering, but couldn't manage to wipe away her smile. "Grumpy much?" she implied. Taking her hands away from her head, she used them to untie her grey hoodie. Anna slipped the hoodie over body, displaying the faded gold letters saying 'University of Wyoming'. Folding her arms across her chest, she decided to look at him. "I liked you a lot more when you half out of it."
The decepticon made a disgusted snort. "The feeling is mutual," he retorted. "Now why don't you leave, you little energy wasting pest."
She tilted her head at his quirky insult. "Energon wasting pest?" she repeated, trying to sound excited. Sitting up straight, she chuckled. "That's a new one."
"Yes," he spat. "That's what your entire race is! If it weren't for your puny, irrelevant race then I would king! And we'd have our Allspark. Our planet would be alive. And we would be beginning the healing process from this mindless war!" He leaned forward on his good arm, trying to get as close to the human as possible. Taking the empty container in his bad hand, he squished it until tiny drops of leftover energon began to drip out of it. "And Optimus would be dead just like Megatron!" The seeker released his grip on the container. Anna watched, imagining it was Optimus, as it fell to the ground. "And I have many more reasons, human."
Anna recoiled at the sudden outburst, but with no more room to back up, she merely sat there and tried to ignore his piercing gaze. She would have believed every word he said had he spoken in a more hateful loathing tone than in a frustrated manner. It was cute, and reminded her of a little toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. "Do you really despise us that much?" she inquired.
"If I tell you yes, will you leave?" he retorted.
Anna relaxed -- there was nothing he could do to even remotely hurt her. "Probably not," she answered frankly. There was something (something he couldn't quite pinpoint) about her answer that caught the mech off-guard. Starscream released his grip on the table, and leaned against the wall. "I heard you and Jetfire had a chat," she spoke, trying to make small talk.
"Yup," he said shortly.
The human waited to see if he would elaborate on his answer . . . but he didn't. "So did the energon help?" she asked.
Starscream eyed her irritatingly. He began to imagine and calculate the possibilities of how to destroy her. "Obviously," he sneered. Anna tiredly sighed in defeat, and he smiled in victory. Where were her snappy comebacks now?
He had hoped by giving enough silence, that she would leave, but the human didn't leave. 'Stubborn slag. . .' The fleshling sat on her cot looking up at the ceiling. The seeker waited for her to close her eyes and fall asleep, but as the minutes became an hour, he began to grow tired of her attitude. Granted, he generally loved silence over pointless conversation, but how she could stare at the ceiling and not say a word both probed his curiosity and irritated him. Starscream tapped his fingers against the table, but Anna's reaction was less than exciting. She looked at him briefly, genuinely confused and maybe curious, but not worried, before staring at the ceiling.
The mech huffed. Starscream began to wonder if she was as ignorant as Skywarp. He silenced his tapping and hoped to her attention; but no, the little fleshling ignored him. The seeker didn't want to speak first -- he didn't want to look weak -- but his curiosity kept berating him. He tilted his head upwards to see what was so excited about the ceiling itself. The seeker narrowed his optics as he began to analyze the faint glow coming from the poor renditions of stars. But the poor quality of the stars and their brightness didn't stop the mech from minutely smiling. The stars matched the exact coordinates of the stars from someone gazing from Cybertron; specially the Iacon Laboratory of Science and Exploration.
"Recognize them?" Anna asked. She smiled at the seeker's astonished face. He nodded. "I keep telling Jetfire that we need to replace them," she added. "But we haven't found the time yet." She let a deep breath, and her rolled her neck around to get rid of the stiffness. "Seems like we never have time anymore."
"If you planned it out," the seeker criticized. "Then you'd have time."
The human stopped looking at the stars, and watched Starscream with an aggravated frown. "Are you always this negative?" she remarked unusually bitter. Anna folded her legs indian style, and crossed her arms across her chest. There was no getting passed her closed body language; and by the way she glowered at him, he could tell she had a personal bone to pick. "It's no wonder why your teammates left you for dead."
"My faction would never leave me for dead," he retorted confidently; but inside he knew that the majority of it was lie. If it weren't for his brothers, then it would have been a lie. Starscream knew too well how 'cons made their way up the ranks -- by killing their commanding officer. There was no trust between fellow soldiers. And the only reason a soldier stayed in line was because they didn't want to end up dead. Among the decepticons, you had to pick your battles carefully -- both with your own faction and the autobots.
"I highly doubt that," she stated sourly.
"And why is that?" he snapped.
"Because you pissed Jetfire off," Anna informed. "And it takes a hell of a lot to piss of Jetfire." She began to lean forward threateningly. Her predatory gaze never broke away from his eyes. The human was out for blood. "So what hell did you do to him?" she demanded.
He lifted his head up proudly. It was disgusting by how "big" this human acted. "That's between he and I," Starscream clarified.
"No it's not," she pronounced slowly and ominously. Anna raised her hand, indicating with her fingers short height. "I am this far away from grabbing the fully automatic assault rifle," the human threatened. "Now speak before I decide to go grab it."
"Phh," he sneered. "What's a little rifle going to do to me?"
"You have no chest plating," she pointed out. With a smirk that reminded him too much of his own, she nodded to his bare chest. "One good shot to the right circuit and bam! You're down for the count." Anna stood up, crossed her arms behind her chest, and began to stride dangerously towards the seeker. "Now, speak," she spat.
He tried to keep his temper under control, but watching her walk towards him like she was some sort of god was testing his limited patience. "So you're going to try to kill me?" Starscream inquired. "That's dumb, considering you just revived me."
She stopped abruptly. "I never said I was going to kill you," Anna corrected. "I just said I'd shot you in all the sensitive circuits. There's a difference." The human expelled a hot breath of carbon dioxide. "So what'll it be, buddy?" she asked in a more relaxed voice. "Swallowing your pathetic excuse for pride, or getting painfully and humiliatingly shot at by a human?"
"Why do you care so much about what Jetfire and I said?" he inquired; the seeker tried to divert the conversation away from violence. "It's rather laughable that you're this flustered by our little conversation." He leaned back casually. The seeker dismissed her threats as nothing more than bluffs. "Besides - " Starscream faked a yawn to indicate the tiredness he should've been feeling. "Our conversation is confidential." His fingers curled around the last remaining container of energon. He tempted to drink it all then and there just so he could avoid listening to her rant; but as she turned around, he found himself suddenly filled with concern. "Where the hell are you going?" he demanded.
"To get my rifle," she replied cheerfully. "And maybe a few of those specially modified grenades." Anna began to skip across the floor. She hummed happily to herself. A wise spread smirk pulled at her lips. Oh much fun it was to act evil!
"Wait!" he spat angrily.
She came to a stop, and gracefully spun around on her tip toes. "Yes?" she inclined a little too innocently. The innocent tone of her voice clearly irritated the seeker.
"Putting our differences aside for the moment," Starscream said scientifically. "Why don't you just ask Skyfire? It would be much easier than going through all of this work just to get an answer from me that might not be right."
"I'm not going to ask him," Anna snapped defensively.
"Why not?" he probed.
The human flung her arm out, and pointed in the seeker's direction. "Because you fucking messed him up, bastard," she accused. "And no one, and I mean no one, fucks up Jetfire without paying a price." She lowered her arm, and tried to regain control over the situation. "Now, spill the beans, before I make Ironhide's day."
It was just what he was looking for. The very tip of her voice was laced with an emotion he knew too well -- fear. In his signature smug smirk, Starscream looked down at the human and pitied her (for a moment) for the position that she had put herself in. "You're scared," he chuckled.
"I am not!" Anna protested. "You're the coward here! You keep avoiding answering my questions!"
The seeker raised a suspicious optic. "So you are calling me cowardly for keeping something confidential confidential?" he asked. Starscream leaned dangerously forward, threatening to fall onto the floor. "That's rather hypocritical considering our last conversation, fleshy."
"That's different," she combated.
"How?" he hissed.
"Cause no one got hurt," she spelled out viciously. If Annabelle had blinked, she would've missed his almost shocked face. "You didn't actually think that I was being a bitch just to annoy you, did you?" she inquired hatefully. "And before you change the subject, Twenty-two, you did in fact fuck up Jetfire." She folded her arms. "And I want to know what the hell you said to him because I'm sure as hell not going to go ask him, "Hey Jetfire, why are you upset?"" Annabelle's scrunched her nose. "Then again, you are a decepticon, and I doubt you know anything about compassion or sensitivity."
"You're right," he stated bluntly. "I don't know anything about that shit because that shit is for weaklings like Skyfire. Now why don't you make yourself useful and leave." He turned his away away from her and a 'shooing' motion with his good hand. Not to his surprise, she remained firmly planted where she stood. His heightened senses didn't help him to block out her pestering presence. He wished humans could smell themselves and the pheromones they admitted just for a day. Then maybe they'd raise their standard of cleanliness. "You aren't going to move, are you?" he asked wearily.
"Nope," she stated frankly.
Starscream rolled his optics. Could he never catch a break? "Ignoring the fact that you are obviously pissed and that I am in no mood to put up with all your idiotic actions," he stated calmly. "Why are you going to such lengths? Everyone gets their emotions hurt."
"It's more like you ripped his spark out," she corrected. Anna rolled her neck around again, trying to get rid of the kinks that were starting to build up in her muscles and bones. Starscream flinched at the popping noise; nothing good ever could ever come from something that sounded like that. "Sorry," she commented. "But my neck's a bit sore from staring up for so long." This answer was obviously accepted since he did not argue. "And if you remember anything from our last conversation, then you know I feel protective of them. And since I have a conscious, I feel guilty for the pain you inflected on Jetfire since I revived you."
"Good enough," he sneered. "And pathetic enough to be true."
"So are you going to tell me or not?" she berated.
He rolled his optics. "Have I not told you already?" Starscream said. "What he and I talked about is confidential." The mech made another fake yawn. The human responded in her yawn. 'Interesting . . ' He eyed the door behind her briefly. "But seeing as I'm bored and need mental stimulation," he offered. His eyes flickered towards her. An unknown, but most likely volatile intentions lurked within them. "I'll divulge the contents of our conversation if you do something."
Anna nodded. She wasn't surprised at all that he would want something in return. "Okay," she spoke; deciding to play along for now. "But speaking hypothetically, if I went along and did what you wanted; how would I know you would give the correct information?"
Starscream snorted at her insult. "I've keep your information secretive have I not?" he reminded.
"Yes you have , but - "
"But what?" he snapped. "I'm offering a chance for you to get what you want." He glowered at her in the eye. He made a small mental note (for future reference) of how her pupil enlarged by a millimeter. "You said everything was about give and take. Well, here's your chance, fleshy."
She suspiciously tilted her head to the right. "But how do I know you won't just sell our little conversation?" Annabelle asked. "If you're selling secrets, then nothing will be a secret forever." By the time she finished talking, her face had a poker-like seriousness to it.
"The answer to that is simple," he answered. He watched her lazily, waiting to see if she would try to guess the answer. . . but she never spoke. The seeker sighed at her stupidity. Was everyone he dealt with an idiot? "The less you annoy me, the less likely I am to sell your little secret; though I don't know why you want to keep it a secret."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, Twenty-two," she retorted. "You lack compassion and trust."
He smirked. "You're finally catching on," he congratulated. The seeker paused. His optics scanned over her figure. So many weak points were presented to him, and it was hard to hold back the temptation to exploit the weak points on her body. Especially when he wanted revenge for corrupting his brother. "So . . . do we have a deal?" he asked. Starscream lowered his good arm down for her to hop onto. She stared suspiciously at the hand, then at him. "I won't injured your pathetic, organic body," he comforted. 'For now...'
The human moved towards the hand. She grabbed hold one of his fingers, and lifted herself onto his palm like a trained gymnast. "You better mean it," Anna spat. "Or I'll sick Ironhide on you." He lifted her up to the table top, and she gladly stepped off his hand. "Why'd you bring me up here, anyway?" she inquired.
He wiggled his index finger in front of her. "No, no, no," Starscream said, talking to her as if she were a newborn protoform. "You don't get to ask the questions." The mech pointed to her, before lightly poked her in the abdomen. She took a reflexive step back, and clenched her fists. "That's my job." He pointed to himself. The seeker lowered himself comfortably onto the table top till his chest was firmly pressed against the cold surface. He propped himself up on his right elbow and placed his head on his hand. "You might want to sit down and make yourself at home," he suggested. There was a short pause, and the human would've sworn he had a sick grin starting to form. "This is going to take a while."
She sat down obediently in front of him. The girl folded her legs neatly underneath her like a good lady. Being this close to him was unnerving at best. He was bigger than she remembered from earlier and very much alive. "So what do you want to know, Twenty-two?" Anna asked, trying to mask her frustration. She hated being the one in a lower, more vulnerable position.
Starscream took his time to answer her question. He began to focus on her imperfections. His optics began to analyze her face first. The imperfections began to register on his internal projection screen. She had a longer face that he assumed came from her mother. It was an unpleasant site for him to see her face so detailed. No human face was symmetrical, and from here he could see it; though humans would never see it. Among his race, faces were perfectly symmetrical; excluding battles scars that could been attained. He shifted his attention back to the human. Bright sunset red eyes flashed hungrily at the girl. "Everything," he hissed. "Starting with this new nickname "Twenty-two.""