The groundbridge blocker was on the fritz.
Again.
It was a tall-spiraling tower, just thin and weak enough to not be repairable by Shockwave's own heavy servo.
Much to Shockwave's chagrin, he had to send up a drone team to repair it.
Again.
Stupid wind.
The installation of the groundbridge blocker had been last minute, a plan seeded long after Starscream's thunderous fall.
Speaking of thunder…
"Starscream, I'll ask you again." Said Shockwave, staring at a demure speck of a thing. "Where oh where did you hide Thundercracker's spark?"
But the demure speck of a thing, a drone the mere size and color of Shockwave's servo, looked listless as it stared at the ground.
Finally, it spoke.
"Shockwave, what did you do to me?"
It was Starscream.
A gaping hole had been drilled into the drone, removing most of the internals and leaving a gruesome hollow shell.
But inside shimmered a spark.
One so black and angry, a core of a void.
Starscream.
So little.
So small.
And yet.
And yet.
Did he squeal.
"You bastard! Tell me! What did you do – to me?!"
"Not anything I haven't done to you before, Starscream." Despite himself, Shockwave laughed.
Well, not really.
But he tried.
Shockwave laughed: a strangled dead choking whinge – unreal – ungenuine.
Even as he beheld Starscream's pain.
It was business as usual.
"The Winglord will be here soon. I expect you to be on your best behavior."
…
…
…
Surprisingly, Starscream didn't say a word.
…
…
…
Typically, any mention of "The Winglord," would earn a passing comment from Starscream – whether it be an insult or an elusive compliment, otherwise.
'Strange, perhaps I overestimated his mental-fortitude.' Thought Shockwave. 'Maybe, he doesn't remember.'
After all, a drone's hardware did not even compare to a vehicon's processor.
Or Trypticon's processor.
"Aren't you excited? You get to see your eldest creation. Soon."
Again, Starscream said not a word. He trembled as he took his first steps.
Starscream moved like a hermit crab – the drone resembled such a beast, albeit with a yellow mono-optic.
"I do not understand." He said finally, with a baffling amount of honesty not typically associated with Starscream.
Shockwave leaned back into a chair, seemingly amused. His servos clasped together as his audial-finals whirled like an insect's – thinking.
"Thank you for listening, Starscream." He said, carefully.
"Listening?" Starscream asked, with the meekest of curiosities. "What's that?"
"It's what you're best at." Shockwave paused, not wanting to overwhelm the little Starscream with words. "So pay attention." Shockwave would be careful in how he cultivated the correct instructions into such a limited-hardware-creature.
"Starscream? Do you understand?"
The drone looked past him, refusing to meet Shockwave's optic when he did answer.
"Yes." Starscream said, though it pained him to do so.
"Yes." He repeated, as if uncertain. "I do."
'I really do.' Starscream thought, maliciously. 'I shall destroy you.' And within a handful of seconds, Starscream's miniscule body shook and shuddered with the keenest amounts of anger such hardware could possibly contain.
'I shall. I shall. I shall.' Like a looping record, Starscream's brain scratched and itched with an unseen glorious rage. 'I sssshall!'
'Fly.'
The word glitched into his processor, the definition and the story it told pulled from his very spark.
He was lucky Shockwave could read the swells of EM-fields so poorly.
His EM-field was bludgeoning forward like a steam engine.
His spark screeched and writhed like a torched snake.
'I remember.' He thought, suddenly – uncovering an ego-death hidden within his coding.
Pieces of Starscream, tethered to malicious numbers.
To make him forget.
To make him forget.
His glory.
His dominion.
His wings, those sweet dear things.
He crushed that aluminum mental-cage, as the virus it pathetically was.
'I remember.' He thought, careful not to speak, least Shockwave heard. 'I remember.' And then he – "thought better" – recalling his pathetic existence.
So precarious his situation was.
Wingless.
Defenseless.
His drone-carcass was an eggshell.
Which opened to welcome either a life or death.
And he wanted to live!
He wanted to live!
He wanted to live!
And he wanted to kill Shockwave!
He struggled to keep down his trembling rage.
As he looked up.
At Shockwave.
Starscream corrected himself. He kept his hermit crab legs stiff and humble.
'I. Shall.'
The comet collapsed into the ground, creating a concave crater of smoldering desert glass.
Shards of the newly minted crystals scattered in every direction, as the Winglord…
Raised his foot.
To take a step forward.
The foot was large, each talon the size of a small compact car.
Sand sizzled and melted into glass, as the Winglord walked.
The shuttle-sized mech was engulfed in flames – a common outlier ability amongst ancient cybertronians – yet, now, the living-relic was one of the precious few left…
There was Shockwave, yes, but he did not honor the old ways…
"Junk-cle Shockwave, it's been a while." He greeted, bowing a crown of jagged burning feathers – his face white and bird-like – his body decorated with an armor of golden-orange gemstones, and other small mementos from slain skeletal creatures.
This was "The Winglord," Sunstorm.
This Shockwave saw, atop the Nemesis-wreckage.
"Winglord Sunstorm, finally, you are here." Said Shockwave. It was certainly a round-about way of saying that "The Winglord," was late.
But Shockwave was well-versed in diplomacy. He didn't want to waste time with petty squabbles over hurt feelings.
"I'd give you a tour of the Deception-facilities, Winglord, but I am unfortunately preoccupied with several duties." Shockwave paused to gesture down to an unassuming drone by his feet, tethered by a chain-leash looped around it countless times against its small body. It looked like a weapon, like a ball and flail meant to spin around.
But that hardly seemed like Shockwave's style.
Sunstorm observed the "drone," waspishly, his suspicions already warring and winning within his processor.
He knew this "drone," this ancient mech.
'Starscream.' He thought, but he was too distracted to speak.
By what he saw there.
In the shell of the drone.
Starscream's spark flickered and waned like a half-burned lump of coal.
That spark was invisible.
And unhealthy.
Weak and precarious like a candle flame.
Starscream inched ever closer down a kerosene rope, into a molten puddle designated to drown him.
The Winglord's intake hissed with a peppering of smoke, and a lashing mouth of flames – wanting more than ever, to disembowel Shockwave.
He was right there.
He could do it with a single servo.
"Starscream will do it." Stated Shockwave, as if capable of reading the Winglord's mind, and he backed away, as if aware of his precarious situation..
Or perhaps, that's precisely why Shockwave did what he did.
When the Winglord dared to move.
Without so much as a warning, Shockwave tossed Starscream into the sky.
Like a parade baton, Starscream was whipped around wildly by his chain ribbons. The drone didn't even have the energy nor comprehension to scream, as he missile-sped towards the ground.
But the Winglord caught him, as the mech had always been compelled to do; despite the numerous occasions Sunstorm and Starscream never saw optic to optic.
Starscream dangled like bait on a hook, the chain swaying, precariously pinched between Sunstorm's fingers.
Before Sunstorm could admonish Shockwave for his rude, and frankly unprofessional behavior – the mech was gone.
Sunstorm could only lamely watch as Shockwave ran, already a mile away when he stopped to open a hatch-door, kept hidden beneath a pile of wreckage.
The hole resembled a rat's nest as Shockwave clambered inside, dropping onto all-fours. He appeared to struggle to fit himself through such a tight and precarious entrance.
Perhaps Shockwave's steady diet of vehicons was making him fatter…
Sunstorm did approach, on the slim chance Shockwave wouldn't be able to escape…
Or would resurface.
But.
From the sound of shifting and clicking gears…
Sunstorm could guess…that, Shockwave had managed to activate an elevator.
Mostly likely, to arrive down into New Kaon, the new base of operations for the Decepticon-faction, considering The Nemesis earlier had been reported "on permanent stand-by," by Shockwave.
It was no wonder, with the ship scattered around his feet.
'Leave it to Shockwave to make the macabre and terrible into some mundane report.' Sunstorm mused, and like a lion done toying with a mouse, he forgot about wanting to murder Shockwave.
Instead, he turned his attention towards Starscream.
It wasn't meant to be malicious.
But Starscream had other more grotesque ideas, apparently.
The little drone was scratching madly at the meat of his palm, as if there was any hope of hurting him.
It didn't even tickle.
Slowly, carefully, Sunstorm evaluated the unfortunate creature left in his care.
He recognized such a bittersweet spark, though he dreaded having to admit it.
"Ma-ker?" He paused, as the drone orientated itself upon its haunches, looking up at him expectantly.
"How did this happen?" he asked. The drone seemed to struggle to comprehend what it was looking it.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
The little sparkeater-yellow optic appeared to weep oil and solvent as its lens warped and melted from staring into a sun.
Its minute pincher-claws, which passed as its hands itched and scratched at the irritated glass there – until Sunstorm outstretched a finger, stopping Starscream from blinding himself.
"That's enough of that." Whispered Sunstorm, and Starscream flopped over, as soon as the finger had touched him, overwhelmed – by frankly – everything.
Starscream didn't remember much, but he knew one thing.
That there was too much orange.
"Nevermind. We'll talk later." And Sunstorm got Starscream to stand again, nudging him with a finger.
"Obviously, I'll have to take the initiative here and put you back together; though why Shockwave hasn't already done so…" Sunstorm frowned, not happy with what he concluded. "Nevermind. Nevermind."
'I'm going to make myself too angry if I stop to think about it all.' The Winglord half-heartedly admitted.
He didn't like having to come to Earth.
To clean up family messes.
But that's precisely what everything was.
"Starscream." He addressed, waiting as the drone limply looked up at him.
"Yes?" Starscream static-whispered, from a voice-box too small.
"Which. Way. Is. Thundercracker?" He asked carefully and slowly, so as not to confuse Starscream.
The drone thought a moment, before pointing a very small claw, towards a landscape of mountains.
It wasn't much but it was a start.