Chapter Text
Starscream snarled as he stomped into base, pushing away the pain in his legs and ignoring the two morons muttering behind him. Thundercracker and Skywarp should learn their damn ranks, anyway, because Starscream was the air commander, not them, and he was the one who did most of the fragging work, not them, and he—
Starscream paused in front of the command deck door.
And he did not want to go into that room, all things considered.
Not that he did anything wrong! Of course not, Starscream has never done anything wrong, ever.
But Megatron would think so, especially after something like this.
He always did.
“Sooo. . . you gonna open the door, or are you just gonna stare at it, Screamer?” Skywarp prodded, leaning over Starscream.
He hissed and slammed the door open, not dignifying the annoying bastard with a response.
Skywarp snickered as they walked into the command deck. Thundercracker simply looked on stoically.
Across the command deck, there was Megatron, sitting his lazy aft on his throne while Starscream limped in, soaking wet from the rain.
He already had a few choice words for the mech.
Megatron shot a disdainful look to the trail of rainwater dragging from Starscream’s peds, then looked up at the mech proper. “Where have you been?” he sneered.
Where do you think, moron?
"Returning from the raid you sent me on, Megatron,” Starscream shot back, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. He knew Megatron was just preparing for some mindless speech about how much of a failure he was and how he was getting filter cleaning duty for the next month or something, but Starscream couldn’t rule out the possibility that Megatron might’ve actually been stupid enough to forget.
Megatron’s optics narrowed at Starscream’s clear dissent. “Of course, Starscream, and do you have anything to report to your Lord, perhaps.”
Starscream’s scowl deepened. Oh, how could he forget his dear master’s title? How dare he, truly! Send him to the brig at once!
“I do, actually, but maybe I wouldn’t have to if you were there instead of lounging around base, doing frag-all while I was out executing your awful, useless plan!” Starscream couldn’t help himself, marching up to the throne and glaring up at Megatron. His trinemates, conversely, took several large steps back, glancing nervously at each other. “You can insult me once you actually do something for this Primus-forsaken army!”
Starscream was yelling at this point, wings high and trembling. He was wet, cold, and tired, and he was sick of Megatron’s annoying fragging mouth always putting him in an even worse mood after every single mistake he ever made.
Megatron’s optics were nothing but fiery red slits, and he leaned forward to loom more heavily over Starscream. “And just what do you suggest I do for this army, be more like you, perhaps?” Megatron hummed. “Disobey direct orders, jeopardizing the integrity of the mission? Perform reckless maneuvers in some pathetic effort to gain an advantage? Whining and crying when I don’t get my way, and storming into the command deck like a sparkling and throwing a fit after any minor inconvenience?” The mech’s mocking tone was punctuated by the snickering of the Decepticon soldiers that came around to watch this spectacle.
Something snapped inside of Starscream. Rage boiled in his lines at the derisive comments and the stupid fragging look on Megatron's face. The contempt.
“You do EACH and EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE THINGS!” Starscream shrieked, vents heaving, and before his trine could rush up to stop him he threw himself at Megatron, blindly clawing at the mech’s chassis.
A bad decision, in every aspect.
Megatron reacted swiftly, slamming a fist into the side of Starscream’s helm and sending him sprawling across the floor, the sound of armor plating slamming and scraping against metal deafeningly loud in the silent room. Starscream bit his tongue and swallowed a cry of pain as he landed on still-tender wounds. He put his arms beneath him and they nearly bucked under his weight, but Starscream was running on nothing but rage at this point.
He rushed to his peds with a sway, and once his vision stopped spinning he pulled out his laser pistol with a snarl and aimed for the helm.
It didn't work, of course. It never does. Megatron bolted up in turn, and what shots he didn't dodge easily barely singed a mark onto his thick silver armor. He stalked towards Starscream, the blaster fire only serving to anger him further.
Starscream hardly had the chance to take a step before Megatron was upon him, grabbing his arm and squeezing with a sickening crack as he crushed Starscream’s delicate wrist components, forcing him to drop the pistol. Megatron then slammed a knee into his abdomen with a guttural snarl, bringing Starscream to the ground once more, leaving a spider’s web of cracks in his cockpit.
Laying stunned on his back, Starscream lost the ability to vent for a long few moments, coolant springing to his optics.
“There is a reason you will never lead this army,” Megatron growled, staring down at the seeker and bringing a heavy ped to his chassis. “It is because you are pathetic! ” Megaton’s engine gave a snarl as he pressed down on the glass. The glass creaked for a few long, tense moments, before it shattered, shoving razor-sharp shards of glass into his delicate protoform.
Time seemed to stop.
And Starscream wailed.
Agony consumed his sensor-net as he writhed beneath Megatron’s weight, his entire frame alight with pain. His senses slurred into nothing as his processor tried to keep up with the horrific amount of input, damage warnings muffling his already-derailed thoughts. Breathless sobs escaped his vocalizer as his claws scraped weakly against the leg pinning him down, trying desperately to ease the burning hole eating its way through his chassis.
Starscream might actually be reaching his limit. He can’t take this anymore. How long can this go on? How long, how long, how long. . .
The gathered mechs who had been laughing before were now long silent, barely even their vents could be heard. Fellow fliers were wincing at the display, arms curled protectively over their own middles.
Skywarp was staring, intake dropped open and optics wide as saucers. He rocked a bit on his peds.
Thundercracker looked sick.
Staring down at his weeping, twitching second, Megatron looked on with a disgusted grimace, and decidedly ended the show by kicking Starscream in the helm. Hard.
Probably the only mercy his master had ever afforded him. Starscream’s vision turned white, then faded into a dark, blissful nothing.