Chapter Text
It was amazing how quickly things could change around here. Yesterday, Starscream had been one mistake away from the scrap heap. Today, he was the hero of the Decepticons. Megatron had pulled out the good engex, and offered Starscream a cube. He even let Starscream stand to the right of his throne while he gave a toast in front of the whole crew.
“Here’s to Starscream,” he cheered, his cube raised to the sky, “for retrieving a Minicon from Autobot clutches, and uncovering the mystery behind their continued sleep. If every mech in our humble team were able to perform at such a high level,” he shot a scathing glance towards Cyclonus, “why, the Autobots wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Starscream wanted to bask in the glory, but he knew better. If not for the intercession of one tiny human child, he would have been on the floor, beaten and bloodied, right where Cyclonus had been not but twenty minutes ago. There had been no real reason to attack Cyclonus; he’d played no great role in the previous mission. But Megatron was unpredictable, and Megatron liked violence. He couldn’t beat the victorious mech, and for whatever reason, Demolishor was never a target. So that left Cyclonus to face his irrational wrath. It was all so pointless.
Megatron didn’t care about intent, or even logical consistency. All he cared about was satisfying whatever urge struck him at any given moment. Anything less than an undeniable victory could be worthy of punishment, depending on the day, or even the hour. No, Starscream didn’t dare boast about his recent victory. He knew well that nothing was more dangerous than a Decepticon desperate for Megatron’s approval. Despite his usual laissez-faire attitude, even Cyclonus didn’t appear to be above such a basic need.
So Starscream stood tall and proud, but he was careful not to stand too tall, nor too proud. His chest was not out. His smile was carefully controlled to project gratitude rather than smugness. It was more important to win Cyclonus and Demolishor over as allies than it was to be in Megatron’s fickle good graces. But so long as he was here, he may as well take advantage of the position.
“Thank you, Lord Megatron,” he said, his voice confident yet cold and professional. “I am proud to be of use to the advancement of our great cause.”
Megatron snorted, easily seeing through the platitudes in Starscream’s carefully-selected words. “Of course you are,” he said, his voice dripping with saccharine insincerity. “But I bet you would prefer a reward for your acts of service, wouldn’t you?”
Of course he would. But he didn’t dare say such a thing aloud. Dealing with Megatron was like balancing atop a precarious scrap heap. “Beating the Autobots is reward enough, Lord Megatron.”
“Nonsense,” Megatron laughed, taking a swig of his engex, and prompting the others to do the same. It was very good engex, at least. Not quite the quality Starscream was accustomed to in his old life, but better than he’d had in a long time. “Nobody is above petty wants for recompense. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.” Oof. His efforts to remain humble had backfired. Megatron was annoyed with him.
“Well,” said Starscream, ready to try a new approach, “I do still seem to be the only one on the team who does not yet have a Minicon of his own.” He had been afraid that Megatron would turn on him, should he broach such a sensitive subject; Megatron was always temperamental when it came to the Minicons. But lucky him, it seemed that Megatron’s good mood was steadfast, at least for the time being.
“Ah yes, that is unfortunate,” Megatron said, his voice still deceptively warm. “We’ll have to rectify that. It simply won’t do for the best mech on the team to be the least equipped.” Insincere it may have been, but Starscream couldn’t help but feel a little flare of pride at being referred to as “the best mech on the team.”
“Oh, here’s an idea,” Megatron continued as his eyes fell on Cyclonus. “You’ve contributed far more to the cause lately than Cyclonus has. Why don’t we give you Crumplezone instead?”
Cyclonus stiffened, visibly displeased by the idea, but too smart to protest. For a moment, Starscream considered accepting the offer. Cyclonus had behaved quite coldly towards Starscream in the past. There was a certain sense of vindication to be gained from seeing him suffer. But at the same time, Cyclonus was also the only mech on the team with the bearings to stand up to Megatron on Starscream’s behalf. If there was one mech not to make an enemy of, it was Cyclonus.
“That is a generous offer, Lord Megatron,” said Starscream, sweetly, “but it will not be necessary. I would hate to disrupt the bond between a Minicon and its partner.” He wasn’t sure if that was an acceptable answer for a mech as lacking in empathy as Megatron, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say. The truth was out of the question.
Megatron, for his part, rolled his eyes and took another swig of his engex. “Well then, Starscream,” he said, as annoyance crept into his voice. There it was. “If you want a Minicon of your own badly enough, then you’ll just have to go out and find one.” The change in tone left Starscream on edge, but the words weren’t too bad. It was an invitation, not an order. Megatron may have been irritated with him, but Starscream still had enough grace to be allowed to go out and get himself a Minicon, should the opportunity arise. It was better than being beaten into the floor, at least.
Taking one last swig of his drink, Megatron slammed his cube down on the arm of his throne, rose to his feet, and began walking away. “I’m going back out to shoot some Autobots. Don’t bother me unless you want me to shoot you.” With that, he slipped through the door, handily bumping into Cyclonus on his way out. The remaining three mechs waited until the stomp, stomp, stomping of Megatron’s heavy feet disappeared from earshot before daring to speak.
Demolishor was the first to break the silence. “Well Starscream,” he said, his voice full of sincere glee. The mech was too simple-minded to lie. “How’s this warrior’s life treating you?”
There was that word again. “Warrior.” Demolishor was obsessed with it. Megatron too, for that matter. These guys ate, slept, and breathed violence. And while there was a certain poetry to it – casting bureaucracy aside and living a more simple, more direct life – living under a system of might makes right was only beneficial if you were the one with the might. After nearly a full solar cycle of living the “warrior’s” life, Starscream couldn’t honestly say he enjoyed it.
“It’s great. I’m enjoying it a lot.”
“That’s the spirit,” Demolishor laughed, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough that he was nearly sent flying. Thankfully, Starscream had been expecting the gesture, and was able to brace himself. His feet remained proudly planted on the ground. “You might just prove yourself a true member of the team yet.” Whatever that meant.
“I look forward to the day,” Starscream replied sweetly. His words were not remotely sincere, but he trusted Demolishor to not pick up on his intent, and Cyclonus to not call it out. “But in the meantime, it’s back to the grind. I’ve got to find me a Minicon, after all.” He ducked out from beneath Demolishor’s hand and made his way to the door, with the Minicon tracker as his destination. As he passed Cyclonus, however, a murmur met his audial receptor, too soft for Demolishor to hear.
“Don’t think I’ll let that insult slide.”
Starscream stepped back to regard Cyclonus more fully. His acidic green optics were locked on Starscream’s – they were bright, filled with an impotent rage, which made the grin on his scarred lips all the more unsettling. Cyclonus had always seemed so invincible. He was the one who called out Megatron on his worst ideas. He was the one who laughed off being evaporated on a semi-regular basis. It was strange to see him so shaken by what had felt like so small an incident. But Starscream couldn’t blame him. He’d been in the same position after all. Only yesterday.
“Your quarrel isn’t with me,” Starscream tried. “We both know that.”
“What are you guys talking about over there?” And there was Demolishor, clueless as ever.
Cyclonus ignored the question as his eyes flashed brighter and his rotors shivered softly in their hub. “Do what you want. But I am going to be the one who finds the next Minicon.” With that, he turned tail and stomped off, thankfully not in the direction of the Minicon tracker. Starscream had some idea as to what was going through his mind, but he had to acknowledge that even so, he didn’t know Cyclonus all that well, and he didn’t know what exactly, that mech had planned. He may not have been strong, but he was cunning, and the thought of fighting against him had Starscream worried.
“Dang, what was all that about?” Demolishor asked, bemused, as he watched Cyclonus walk away.
Starscream shook his head and let a beleaguered sigh escape his vents. “I wish I knew.”