:"Jetfire, wake up!":
Jetfire jumped awake.
He was on the very same berth Starscream's corpse had been strewn across earlier. It'd been cleaned and sanitized, of course, but it still felt weird to use.
As if it let Starscream watch him too closely.
Still, it beat using a vehicon-recharge closet.
Starscream's penthouse was magnitudes better.
"Alright, I'm awake!" Rubbing his optics clear, he put on his brand-new medic's googles left atop his head - a thoughtful gift left by Shockwave earlier, to congratulate his clinical promotion.
By the negative EM-field pressure emanating from the ceiling, Jetfire was quick to deduce Starscream's feelings towards his new, less juvenile appearance.
:"What's wrong with your old pilot googles? The ones I gave you?" :
Jetfire rolled his optics, much to too tired to entertain empathy for a mech clearly devoid of any.
"You didn't wake me up just to complain, did you?"
The ceiling stalled for a moment with a weird suction noise, as if Starscream was screaming out into a void, out into the innards of his new titanic body - which wasn't too far fetched.
:"Right, we don't have time for this.": The message to his commlink froze in its loading sequence, as if Starscream was spending a slew of spam his way. :"Never mind all this. I didn't mean to send this all at once.": And Jetfire paused the download sequence, but it would remain a nagging feeling within his head until he accepted the datapacket.
At a later time.
'Oh, goodie. This is exactly how I wanted to start my cycle.' He thought sarcastically. Already, Jetfire could feel a helmache building beneath his skull.
It was terrible, blistered itching.
"What do you want Starscream!?"
Finally, another message loaded.
:"Go to the clinic now!":
:"To the clinic now!":
:"The clinic, now!":
:"Go now!":
The same command slammed into him wave after wave, as if Starscream had been uncertain he'd listen.
'While the logic tracks, this is hullshit!' Jetfire thought, as he pelted out the door, not even bothering to lock the room, delegating the mundane task to Starscream.
He couldn't get there soon enough.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
A great screaming filled the halls.
At first Jetfire had thought the Autobots were aboard, slaughtering vehicons wantonly throughout the ship; but as he approached the clinic, he knew how mistaken he was.
Megatron.
The mech's paint was pitch-black, chipping, and itchy.
Gore painted the behemoth's claws, the tips longer and hooked - the innards of vehicons and a few other unfortunate models littered the hallways like a cut down line of trees.
'He's not a sparkeater yet.' Jetfire thought. 'But he soon will be.'
"Soundwave, get away from him!" Jetfire shouted, spotting Soundwave hidden amongst the shadows, daring to creep closer to his master - his false, sparkeater-esque tentacles held in front of him like sparking, crackling whips.
Useless tools.
Against the behemoth.
Jetfire's shouting made Megatron privy to Soundwave's location and the warlord whipped around towards his victim, charging forwards into the darkness, his muzzle already soaked in gore.
"Don't let him bite you! It's contagious! Deadly even!" Jetfire shouted again, and the nameless soldiers and vehicons around him scattered like a gunshot. "Get out of here! Everyone!" And the brave Decepticons retreated - the enraged, pained screaming of Megatron was enough to cower anybot - with a lick of sense.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Then Jetfire had the halls to himself.
Save for Megatron.
The Behemoth.
After all, Jetfire couldn't exactly fight properly if an audience got in his way. Without thinking, his primitive sparkeater-coding activated, kicking his systems into overdrive. Jetfire sensed a rival in Megatron, which ignited his inner-most instincts.
Or as Shockwave frequently said, "His inner-most stupidity."
From the corner of his optics he spotted a terrified Knockout with a shockprod in hand. He almost burst out laughing when he saw the medic's pathetic weapon of choice.
'Now that little spark-stick isn't going to do anything.' He thought amused, before bellowing, "Get out of here, Knockout!" Hot, smelly sulfuric air blasted the medic as Jetfire's flames collected in his maw - like napalmlike gobs of spit.
Knockout had hardly a nanoclick to move, before -
Ffffrrrrrrooooossssshhhhhhhh~!
Fire engulfed Megatron like an unholy baptismal, his armor grew impossibly blacker, as he -
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Screaming, Megatron's knees buckled in agony. Jetfire's jaws were like festering, red hot scissors - the metal of his plating an impossible heat. Black protoform split apart, oozing like a rotten oily shell.
Jetfire's teeth - cut.
And ate.
Megatron's backside exploded open with a searing crunch.
The teeth continued to dig and dig.
Scooping innards clean.
Like a canned ration. The warlord steamed.
Sizzle.
Pop.
:"By the one! Don't kill him!:"
Suddenly, it was Starscream, screaming in his audials.
:"Don't kill him!:"
The familiarity of that screaming was sobering to Jetfire.
Pulling away his bleeding split lips, he unlatched his teeth from Megatron's form.
Which was a mistake.
:"Megatron!:"
As if the warlord could hear Starscream's distracting prattling, Megatron crashed down with his enlarged gauntlet onto Jetfire's shoulder. The metal concaved inwards like a burst soda can and Jetfire shrieked - pulling away, but Megatron's hooked claws held him steady.
In place.
Buuckrunch.
And Jetfire's other shoulder broke away, his arm hung limply, useless; yet his leg-talons kicked and gored Megatron's belly-plates.
Digging.
Peeling back armor.
Plating.
Eventually Megatron's pain got through to him, buckling backwards as if he'd taken a withering slap to the face.
Still, it was but a second's long distraction.
The pitch-black behemoth reared upwards, intending to crush Jetfire like the insecticon he was. Megatron's massive gauntlets had grown larger than an average adult mech's entire frame - just one pressing arm and palm would finish the job - of crushing a bug.
Then Trypticon, the ship.
Buckled upwards.
"Starscream, you idiot!" Jetfire shrieked as he was sent careening into a door, almost breaking his neck from the force. It was a hallway barricade door, which Megatron had fallen behind - and right after, the locks had activated - leaving an exhausted Jetfire, to flop over uselessly against the barricade's surface - his scorched outer metal already, slowly, melting away the door.
Angry beyond reason - that his prey got away - Jetfire nonsensically slashed searing hot claws against the door's metal - the door in his way.
"Aahhhaaaugh!" Starscream screamed. A short pained noise, which got everyone's attention.
Jetfire reluctantly, pulled his claws away from the door.
A long dormant "Public Address" system blasted online, from the Nemesis.
"Jetfire, stop! You mad imbecile!" Starscream's voice was just as scratchy and commanding over a PA intercom-system, maybe even more so, as Trypticon's titanic vocal-cords cut across the hallways of his own body without issue or delay.
"Jetfire, stop!" Starscream repeated.
:"Stop it!":
The noise, the screeching, reminded Jetfire of his sparklinghood, and slowly he regained his senses - retreating from his prey like a whipped admonished animal - turning back down the hallways with his grotesque head and gore-covered mandibles held low - in defeat.
But the peace was not to last.
Jetfire was flung forwards, head over heels - suddenly, the hallways had flipped vertically - becoming akin to steep elevator shafts - sending any unlucky mechs still standing around in the hallways, down into a terrifying lurching free-fall.
The Nemesis.
The entire ship.
Fell.
F
E
L
L
It was a horrible wet cacophony.
Crunch.
Clatter.
Splatter.
Vehicons crumpled into pieces - each splintering - impacting the ground at a deadly velocity - like bullet shells scattering uselessly against a titan's titanium surface.
They tried to fly anyway, but they got in the way.
Each bumping into each other.
An uncoordinated swarm of flies.
Jetfire was pelted with the falling panicking mechs, some grabbing at his armor and frame, desperate to cling on for dear life.
He didn't hesitate to rip their servos from his plating.
Their bleeding gushing wrists sparked as they fell.
How dare they touch him.
Jetfire crushed and ate the various, random servos he'd severed...before his shattered shoulders finally buckled away from his arms.
Jetfire fell into free-fall.
His servos hung limply at his sides, uselessly unable to move...
Ironically, a half-chewed bleeding servo clasped between his jaws prevented him from making a desperate biting grab against the walls or anything protruding sideways within his reach.
Crash.
It was wet.
Horrendous.
Sloppy.
Slick with a glossy coating of purple-pink processed energon - Jetfire reared up his ugly head, his audials flicking around curiously, like an organic's ears.
Disgusting.
Yet lucky.
A pile of bodies had broken his free-fall.
Jetfire had fallen down atop his belly. Weakly, he pulled his withered limbs beneath him, resembling a lounging deer.
He looked unreasonably peaceful.
As if it'd been his intention all along to recharge atop a mountain of corpses.
Yet Jetfire had no time to rest - a spamation of messages from Starscream pinged his systems, as elegantly as a table bashing against his head. Jetfire was tempted to ignore the messages, but he hadn't much choice as the Nemesis-halls themselves groaned from some unseen force.
A struggle.
A gutteral dying.
Trypticon's engine's had failed, sometime ago.
Jetfire remained atop the bodies, with nowhere else to go.
The Nemesis crumpled, engorged in embers.
Just like its passengers.