"Ahh, this is a relief." Starscream blinked his new optics. the colors a startlingly fresh red. "Thank you Deadend. I can rest easy now."
"I'm glad we got that mess out of the way." Deadend raised a browridge in Starscream's direction. "Now do you wanna talk about Airwave while I'm here? I don't think you realized how upset you looked. Else I gotta-"
"-go do other things, yes yes I know." Starscream waved him away. "Airwave is dead, so what?" Starscream paused, taking a deep vent. "I've lost a lot of sparklings. So what..." The statement was supposed to make himself feel better, but Starscream could only look down at the ground, wanting more than anything to run out of the room in shame. "So what?" he repeated again, uncertain, not sure what to make of Deadend's serenely flat-expression.
But it was true. He'd lost a lot of sparklings.
"I should be used to it by now." Starscream whispered, his voice grew tighter with every spoken word.
"Used to what?"
"You know, that feeling." His own spindly arms wrapped around himself, to provide some sort of comfort, or perhaps the illusion of distance from Deadend. He didn't want to be in this room, this medbay , with a bot who barely tolerated his presence.
But that was his life.
Both sat atop their respective berths, each looked down with a dour expression.
"What's that thing you and Jetfire do? That human thing?" Deadend pretended not to know, but Starscream rolled his optics. He knew Deadend was playing stupid - he'd caught Deadend once or twice already, watching human media called "sitcoms," that Seaspray occasionally tried to convince Deadend to smuggle into Vox.
Fortunately, he'd been there to shut down that entire operation. Winglord Sunstorm would've strangled him to death if he ended up corrupting "precious Vosian culture" with filthy xeno-imports - even if poor Starscream had nothing to do with it - he'd still be blamed; but that was besides the point - sadly, such strict import laws made sense for New Vos. Cybertronians barely tolerated works of art generated by their own frame-types, nevermind the mindless-dross produced by organics. Plus, the Winglord had made it very crystal clear he didn't want his citizens to have motivations to venture beyond the solar system of New Vos, for fear of Decepticons or Autobots discovering their budding civilization, and destroying what little was left. He had even gone so far as to outlaw the use of Shanix, the old pre-war Cybertronian currency. Everyone used something called "Gangue" now.
Whatever, he didn't care what New Vos did. It's not as if he'd be allowed to set foot upon the planet anytime soon.
Starscream muttered bitterly to himself, clutching his head as a helmache began to push through. The dent in his helm had yet to be repaired, but it apparently required specialized equipment only available upon "The Nemesis," that, and his medical records, which he wasn't going to give to an unauthorized stranger like Deadend.
Though Deadend had yet to wrong him...yet...
He dreaded going back there, to the Nemesis, under Megatron's rusty boot and thumb. It was a den of misery, with not an iota of privacy - Soundwave uprooted every miniscule secret. He could never breath easy despite being Second-In-Command for so long. Still, he couldn't leave the Decepticons and let Megatron have it all.
Megatron hadn't earned it.
His silly Decepticon Empire.
He did.
It was his.
Plus.
There was "The Nemesis."
He'd get Trypticon Station back...one day...
He was almost finished...
"Hey, yoohoo?" Deadend waved a hand in front of Starscream's face. "You there?" Starscream grimaced. His head was on the verge of an implosion.
'Oh that.'
"Oh right, he calls it a hug. " Starscream sarcastically played along. "Apparently, humans do that to show affection."
"So..." Deadend looked away for a second. "Can we hug?" Starscream looked at him as if he was crazy, filthy, covered in dirt even. "Come on, it might make that feeling go away." Deadend insisted and stepped off his berth, stretching his arms out in front of Starscream. Embarrassed beyond belief, Starscream stiffly leaned away...but he refused to move - to run away.
'...'
'...'
'...'
'...'
Several beats of awkward silence occurred between them and yet Deadend seemed undeterred, annoyed even. "Come on, I have things to do." He sighed. "And, so do you." He added.
'Well...what's the harm?' Starscream reluctantly thought.
"You're not hiding a dagger in one of your servos are you?"
Deadend rolled his optics. But he didn't deny the accusation either.
"Let's just get this over with." He wiggled a servo in a "come hither" gesture. "You obviously need something good to happen to you this cycle."
"Why? Why even bother?" Starscream scoffed, but it quickly fell from his face when Deadend stepped into his space. "It does nothing. It's just a silly gesture!" Starscream snapped.
"Then why are you so scared of it?" smirked Deadend. The mech looked ridiculous, his expression stern with arms outstretched, resembling some sort of tall swamp earth-bird.
"B-because this is highly suspicious, unprofessional b-behavior!" Starscream stuttered, slipping off his berth before catching himself.
Deadend took a step.
Starscream took a step.
Deadend stepped... closer.
Starscream stepped... backwards.
"I'm not scared you imbecile!" Starscream hissed, his wings flared outward in an intimidating display. Deadend simply smirked harder.
"Prove it." Deadend whispered, and he sounded on the verge of laughter.
Starscream closed his eyes and tipped forward...
And let Deadend catch him.
"Is this how hugging works?" Starscream asked.
"Uh...yes?"
"Hrmmm." Starscream wasn't convinced.
"Do you feel better?"
"No."
Slam!
The medbay door opened and in walked a familiar face. "What are you guys doing?" asked Seaspray, with a datapad and lab instruments tucked against his side.
"A human thing." Said Deadend.
"Airwave died." Said Starscream, as if it explained everything.
"Right, that sitcom thing." Seaspray appeared unimpressed, waving a servo as he gestured to something unseen on his datapad.
"I heard about that - Airwave's death. That sucks." Seaspray sauntered past into the operating theater room below the med bay. "We're gonna dissect Skybyte if you guys wanna watch." He called out, and just then a massive metal shark was rolled into the room - obviously dead and littered with cauterized laser-wounds.
"Quasar?!" Starscream squawked in alarm. He knew it was Quasar standing in front of him, but he couldn't help but panic every time he saw "Cliffjumper," the dead Autobot running around. Not-Cliffjumper's reanimated corpse shuddered, flaking off paint chips with every mildly harsh movement, and the spark-chamber opened, revealing Quasar seated inside - a small black and white sparkling with a yellow mono-optic. Quasar blinked up at them blurrily, looking tired as ever as she fiddled with switches and wires within Cliffjumper's hollow chassis.
"Yes, hello Ma-ker. Hello Deadend." It was said in Cliffjumper's voice, and Starscream practically snarled as he flinched away in disgust.
"Whoops." Quasar's voice disconnected from whatever mechanism was connected to Cliffjumper's vocal cords, and she spoke normally, in a saccharine-monotone. "I'm cutting up a shark now. Don't bother me." Quasar was a lot like Shockwave in many respects.
"I thought I told you to remove that filthy Autobot insignia from that corpse! It's going to get you killed if Decepticons spot you!" Starscream hissed, and Quasar rolled her optic. "What? And lose my ability to potentially larp as a resurrected Cliffjumper to Arcee? No, I want to see her devastated expression when I consume her spark."
Starscream put his hands on his hips, silently concluding that he had raised a monster.
"It's good you've got that to look forward to, kiddo." Said Deadend, awkwardly, sarcastically - if only to keep the peace.
"Kiddo me again and I'll detach your optics."
Deadend believed her, whatever unhinged monster she was, and he stepped a few paces backwards with a tense, forced smile. Ironically, Quasar intimidated him more than Starscream ever could.
"Quasar, get your aft in here! I need you to disable the nano-repair system before it begins the decay process; else we won't be able to turn him into a submarine!"
Deadend and Starscream watched Quasar resettle into Not-Cliffjumper's body and she walked away, looking as Cliffjumper as ever - just one who needed a paint job.
"They're making a submarine?" asked Deadend, dumbfounded.
"Yes, so we can collect energon deposits from the ocean floor. Its distinctly rich since no creature on Earth has disturbed any major sources - everything remains completely untouched, waiting for us." He confidently stated. "And, I know for a fact neither Autobot nor Decepticon forces have the resources to consistently monitor the oceans for threats." Then, he added with a touch of glee. "Or to start underwater mining operations. All of that energon is just waiting for us to pick it up! Just us!" Starscream skipped in place. Perhaps, it was the dent in his head, or the fact his latest scheme was succeeding, but he dared to be happy.
Deadend couldn't help but to stare at Starscream, bemused that his mood could change so wildly. Just a moment ago he'd been on the verge of tears. And Deadend had adverted the crisis, all by asking Starscream about his latest scheme.
Deadend had to admit, it was strangely adorable.
Why had he been scared of Starscream again?
"Really? Couldn't vehicons just surf the ocean waves?" he asked, imagining a battalion of dude-bro vehicons with surfboard alt-modes.
Starscream snorted. "Sure, if by "surf" you mean monitoring the human interwebs - shipping lanes and logistics - that sort of inane thing." Starscream walked up to the observation window, watching as Seaspray and "Not-Cliffjumper" began to peel apart Skybyte's plating, replacing the scales with reinforced seals that would work well with Earth's water composition. While Skybyte was built to withstand deep underwater pressures, the chassis needed every upgrade it could contain - least an energon explosion occurred and risked their operation being discovered.
It was paranoid, sure.
Overkill to reinforce the armor of an already competent submarine.
But Starscream and his sparklings hadn't lived so long without having to nurture some level of paranoia.
"Uh huh, but what about ocean patrols?" Deadend asked, and Starscream stood up straighter, surprised he had wanted to continue the conversation. Deadend was besides him, watching as Skybyte was cut up below.
"No...no...energon is stretched thin as is. Megatron only wants vehicons stationed in areas he knows Autobots frequent. He's surprisingly uninspired like that. You'd think he'd be more creative, proclaiming himself to be a military-genius, but no."
Deadend scoffed. He'd yet to see Megatron in person, but from how Starscream spoke of him - it gave Deadend some measure of comfort to know Megatron really wasn't some invincible god as Decepticon propaganda often proclaimed him to be.
"Sounds like he's just some washed up, retired gladiator." Deadend said.
Starscream laughed. "Yes! Finally, someone gets it!"
"Oh yah, what about Soundwave? Doesn't he have drones?"
Starscream didn't seem worried in the slightest.
"Eurgh, the sooner Soundwave's surveillance system falls apart, the happier I'll be. I left it to Shockwave to deal with. No doubt he's taking steps to destroy the drones completely." Starscream looked delighted. "I even told him to blame it all on the Autobots."
"Oh, and how are you managing that?"
"With Kup and Blurr, of course! In fact, I need to talk to them about it the first chance I get." He paused. "Where are they by the way? I'd thought they where coming with you?"
"Blurr did." Deadend said, and he eyed the entrance to the medbay nervously. "He's around here somewhere."
"Okay...?" Starscream couldn't help but look over Deadend with a critical eye. He was hiding something, and it had to do with Blurr.
"And as for Kup, apparently the Autobots are getting more recruits on Earth soon, so Kup stayed behind in his base of operations to manage the list of volunteers or some such."
'Sssssssssrrrrrkkkkkkkkrrrrrrruuunnncccchhhhhh'
'crunch'
'crunch'
Starscream and Deadend remembered to pay attention, and they watched in detached fascination, the growing horror of the operating theater. Skybyte no longer resembled a shark. A giant drill had replaced his optics and faceplate - his carcass had been defiled into that of a mere servitude-drone.
"Want to get a closer look?" asked Deadend. Starscream shrugged, seemingly unimpressed.
Starscream and Deadend seated themselves in the observation room of the operating theater, with a view just above the dissection table. Screens showed close up displays of Skybyte at every possible angle, but neither Deadend or Starscream seemed eager to learn about the surgery.
"The method on how they get their new frames ...well, it's disturbing, don't you think?" asked Deadend. Starscream nodded, looking at "Not-Cliffjumper" work on welding a seam. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only sane person here." Starscream turned off the gruesome visuals upon the screens dangling above him. "My apologizes Deadend. My helmache is acting up. Watching a shark get cut up is the last thing I want to see."
"Fair enough." Deadend leaned backwards, propping his legs up against a stool, as if he was about to fall into recharge. "But before you go take this." A pocket unclasped from Deadend's side and he pulled out an aluminum bag, the foil jingled with something unseen. He held it out for Starscream to take. "Here, a gift for you."
Starscream hesitated, looking at the bag as if it was liable to explode.
Deadend rolls his optics, "It's not going to bite you. Just take it." Starscream gingerly grabbed the bag, the foil crinkled uncomfortably in his servos. "What's this-" Starscream tisked. "Candy? Do you take me for a sparkling, Deadend?"
"Look, if you don't want energon goodies, I'll take em' back."
"No!" Starscream placed the bag within his cockpit's subspace, before Deadend could reconsider his kindness. "But why? Since when do we give each other gifts?"
"Since now." Deadend scowled, peering past Starscream to peer into the operating theater. Apparently, whatever was being done in there had certainly hooked his attention.
A moment passed and...
"I felt bad about earlier." Deadend admitted. "About bringing up mica-tincakes and then realizing you've been guzzling down dirt-quality energon for the past couple million years. How are you not completely crazy?"
Starscream could only look at Deadend in silent disbelief. This bot had given him a thoughtful gift, only to mildly insult him soon after.
Who did this mech think he was?!
And not to mention that weird hug earlier.
Normally, Starscream's reaction would be to fly off the rails and to demand an apology - to demand respect from some disrespectful worm like Deadend.
But not today.
A painful wheeze caused Starscream to collapse besides Deadend. The bleeding pain within his dented helm flared to life, and for the first time in perhaps millennia, he reconsidered resorting to violence and anger.
"Thank you, Deadend, truly." Starscream got comfortable, accepting that he was stuck besides Deadend, until he found the strength to stand and to find a place to recharge.
"No problem." Deadend snapped his claws, the sound wispy. "Pass me the bag. I'm feeling peckish."
Starscream did so, but not before throwing an entire handful into his mouth. It had been so long since he'd had real food, that his taste-receptors had trouble identifying what he was eating. It was buttery smooth, and delightfully sweet.
Just what he needed.
Whatever it was, it made life worth living.
His room was a mess.
Of course it was.
'They always do this.' Storm thought.
"Damnit..." He snarled, his fists stalled at his sides, wanting more than ever to punch a hole into his wall; but unlike his brothers he had some self control.
"Fraggin' scrap-afts, I'll rip their optics out..." He muttered, as he surveilled the damage.
His brethren had picked his stuff apart like a pack of robber barons.
His laboratory tools had become nonexistent, most likely cannibalized for parts by Quasar to repair her own mishandled and neglected work tools - it was far from the first time she would've pulled such a stunt. He'd have to pay her lab a visit later to see if he recognized any of her equipment. With a bitter huff, he tapped a reminder within his internal UI visor - to "demand compensation from Quasar" later.
Unfortunately, he was too tired to "scream at her" that very moment. He flopped over onto his berth, his once organized room had become a shower of trinkets and specimens left carelessly broken across the floor.
Some rare.
Some irreplaceable.
Not that his siblings would care.
Not about his sentimental clutter.
He sat up from his berth, too upset by the mess to rest. His lifted one of his specimens - a once pristine sample of black calcite had been cleaved in half, an ugly broken thing to what a beauty it had been before.
It was unlikely he'd ever find a new one; not as perfect as the broken one had been.
'Now it's useless. I can't look at it any longer.' He grimly thought. ' It's beauty. It's all gone. ' He tossed the black calcite behind him, hearing as the crystal shattered further against titanium flooring. He stood up, crunching his once prized specimens beneath his talons, as if reclaiming the emotions threatening to break forth from his thrumming black-spark. He exited his room, his rage shimmered beneath his plating as he moved. He could only stomp down the hallway, seeing no one to accuse, nor to talk to.
Eventually, he was stopped by a locked door; he'd have to enter in a code if he wanted to continue walking the direction he was going. Mindlessly he inputted the code that would typically let him through, not really caring if the room opened or not. The keypad clicked green in approval, recognizing his CNA as he stepped forward through the scanning, separating doors.
There was nothing inside.
Nothing of note.
It was either a buffer room meant to stall an invading force, or perhaps it was simply extra storage.
But there was nothing there.
At the moment.
'How much useless space is down here?' he thought. He had spent years upon years digging out tunnels throughout Earth's mountains, all for the sake of Shockwave's silly laboratories; laboratories the mech probably had only visited once and then never used.
Suddenly Storm felt taken for a fool.
Before he'd been so proud.
Of his mindless digging.
"I did all this for nothing, huh?" he muttered. He walked through the empty room to the other side, into another section of hallway. He was mildly curious as to where it would lead. While he had helped to carved out the tunnels with a mining drill once-upon-a-time, he'd nothing to do with the installation of the titanium tunnels themselves.
He continued walking, becoming stressed as he realized the walls began to shrink around him the deeper he went.
'Where am I?' he asked. And as soon as he thought the question, the path ended.
Again.
There was nothing.
A cave-in greeted him at the end, a delightfully useless collection of common Earth rocks.
He placed his servos onto the mess, considering the possibility of there being anything important behind the rockslide.
'Probably not.' He concluded. Shockwave would've sent out maintenance drones to dig out the place if it was in anyway important. He was about to turn around and to leave, before he caught sight of a long discarded mining drill, sitting in a corner, collecting dust. There was a small metal box underneath it, hidden by the bulk of the drill.
He opened the box. His vents hitched in surprise.
'Now, this is interesting.' He thought. 'Who left this here?'
A huge piece of red energon glimmered within the box, about the size of both of his servos. It was rare, valued by cybertronians more than even gold by humans.
It was quite the treasure.
'And it's all mine.' He thought. Storm had no qualms about taking it for himself. Obviously whoever found it was within the rank and file of the bots he knew, down in the tunnels.
Had Shockwave found it? No, he wouldn't have just left something so useful in an unlocked box, to sit out without a purpose.
Perhaps Starscream, had found it? That scenario was a lot more likely. Dear ol' mother loved to scheme, but would he really leave his precious loot to fester, out of his servos? Starscream was the type of person to leave red energon on his person, to wield it with the surety of a weapon.
One of his brothers must've found it, then. Only one of them would've been dumb enough to leave it in a box where anyone could find it.
'Finders keepers, losers weepers.' The old human adage came quickly to mind. "I bet they didn't know your worth." He patted the red energon, his optics alight with greed. "They threw you away like trash!" he said, a bit too loudly. He placed his prize into his cockpit, just barely, as the crystal was strange and oblong. He was careful not to shatter it, least it spontaneously combusted.
'Now, where to hide this?' he thought.