Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bloody—damn—Megatron!” Starscream snarled and flipped into root mode. Energon seeped from his arm where the fusion cannon blew a bit off, and the Seeker grimaced in equal parts pain and fury at it. “I’m going to kill that old fragger.” He promised darkly. “I’m going to kill him. Slag him. Rip that damn cannon off and—” Starscream broke off and grunted.

Something was itching his pede.

He bent down and, instead of swatting it away like he normally would, he picked it up and held whatever was itching his pede to his face.

Truthfully, he was expecting something simple and stupid, like some organic this planet was so strangely fond of spewing out into the world, but instead, he found—

“Scraplet.” Starscream hissed and tightened his grip. The scraplet wriggled, sharp little dentae whirring threateningly. For the first time in a long time, Starscream felt somewhat thankful for his smaller, thinner frame. Such a frame, after all, made it so that he did not have any empty spots when he tightened his grip upon things. Like this scraplet. Starscream peered closer at it. Its optics were the standard color violet-blue, and Starscream sneered. “Well, look at you, hm? Useless little thing. You thought you could hurt me, hm? A Seeker? My kind used to hunt you for sport!”

The scraplet struggled unintelligently in his grasp.

It was true. Vos was a military city, and it had to keep its funding somehow, and given that scraplets were known, irritating pests that dominated the ground, Vos found their funding in mass extermination.

Of course, an unexpected side effect of that was the scraplets’ newfound adaptation to fly, but then again; it was a disorganized little parasite versus a squadron of refined hunters that found a taste for scraplet, so…

Starscream felt something itching at his pede again, and he looked down. Three more scraplets. They were chewing holes into his armor. Damn it, Starscream scowled, and an odd calm settled over his processor, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since the early days of the war. I forgot they traveled in groups…

Starscream snatched the ones on his pedes up with his other servo. They all joined the first one in wriggling fruitlessly for freedom. Starscream leaned back and stared at them in amusement. Their futile struggling was actually… kind of cute. And they had those big optics, and the giant intakes, and Starscream felt a giggle burst out of his throat.

At once, all the scraplets stopped wriggling, and they stared at him.

Starscream, in continuing amusement, scratched the top of one scraplet’s helm. “Cutie.” He murmured. “Who’s a little cutie?”

The scraplet, against all odds and logic itself, shuttered its optics and leaned into Starscream’s touch. How stupid. Starscream could kill them all in seconds. He could eat them and he would relish in the taste of them. Such was the nature of Seekers after all.

Instead, against all logic and processor function, he brought the scraplet he’d pet closer to his faceplate, and then pressed a light kiss to it. “Don’t be stupid.” He warned. “I’ll let this slide for now, because you’re cute and I’m bored, but if you do it again, I will kill you all and eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Then, he gently set all four scraplets down, pressing light kisses onto each of their helms (check for processor malfunction when return to Nemesis, he noted himself) and then shooed them off.

The scraplets stared at Starscream, stared at each other, and then stared back at Starscream again, before coming to some unanimous realization and leaving.

Starscream smiled, satisfied.

O~O

“Knock Out!”

Knock Out grimaced and pretended he didn’t hear anything. Maybe, he thought, though he knew it was futile. Maybe if I just pretend hard enough, he’ll leave me alone—

“Knock Out!”

“Ah!” Knock Out turned around, strained smile in perfect place on his faceplate. Breakdown was behind him, against the wall. (Damn it, and things were just getting interesting) “Herr Kommandant! What brings you here?”

Starscream waltzed onto the medical berth and lounged there as if Knock Out and Breakdown hadn’t interfaced there mere hours before. (Well. The less the Air Commander knew, the better, Knock Out supposed. Ignorance is bliss, as the humans say) “I require you to check me for processor malfunction!” he waved his servo with a flourish.

Knock Out cursed under his breath, and removed his servo from Breakdown’s thigh. Breakdown made a slightly mournful noise, but loosened his own grip on Knock Out’s shoulder. “Of course!” the Medic gritted, and he repressed the urge to throttle Starscream with a saw-blade. “Let me just boot up… everything.”

“Hm.” Starscream faced Knock Out, unimpressed. “Was I interrupting something?”

Before Knock Out could answer, Breakdown interjected. “Yes.”

“Ah.” Starscream stared at Breakdown for a few moments, before snorting. “Good then.”

Knock Out’s servo twitched. “Pray to Primus, Starscream.” He recommended, after a few moments. “Pray to Primus that you really do have a processor malfunction. Or I am going to let you suffer the next time our dear Lord and Master deigns to lay a servo on you.”

Starscream grimaced. “I do have a processor malfunction.” He assured. “I kissed four scraplets and then let them go.”

Knock Out stopped. Turned around. “You what?”

Starscream waved a wild servo, and an inordinately distressed (though, considering the cause, the distress was actually understated) look appeared on his faceplate. “I know! That’s what I’m saying! I let them go! I should have eaten them or something!” Starscream lay back and banged his helm against the medical berth, keening painfully.

Eaten them?

Eaten them?????

“Eaten them?”

Who—Ah. Breakdown asked that.

“Yes, eaten them!” Starscream whined and pressed the heels of his servos into his optics. “But they were so cute, Knock Out! Those big purple optics, and the sharp little dentae—ah!” Starscream made a noise and his wings hiked up in the telltale sign of an oncoming rant.

Knock Out made a point to stop it before it could start. “You do have a processor malfunction.” Knock Out assured. He hadn’t taken the scan yet, but surely something in accordance would pop up. Starscream could be unhinged at times, but every single one of those moments could be attributed to rationality hiked up to the point of lunacy. Or Megatron. Either one could work.

“I do?” Starscream squawked and sat up in the medical berth.

“You do.” Knock Out affirmed, with the utmost confidence, at the same time the scanner he’d activated announced:

‘All Clear’

For a few seconds, the med bay was silent, the only thing audible being a light whirring sound in the vents, and then Starscream turned slowly to face Knock Out, faceplate eerily calm, and he said, “Your device is glitching.”

Knock Out stared at the screen in horror. He couldn’t bring himself to agree with Starscream, but—

“Herr Kommandant, I got this serviced today.” Knock Out swallowed. “Did you—Did you really—”

“Knock Out.” Starscream snarled, and he leaped off the berth, optics crazed. Belatedly, Knock Out realized that Starscream’s arm was crusted with dried energon. Why hadn’t the Seeker come to him for it? “Choose your next words wisely.”

“Sit back on the berth, Starscream.” Knock Out rubbed his fore-helm. “Breakdown, go get the manual scanner and the welding kit. I’m going to fix your arm.”

Starscream jolted and looked at his arm, as if only now noticing that it was there. Breakdown came trudging to the pair a few moments later. In his right servo he held the welding kit, and in his left, the manual scanner. Knock Out hooked the manual scanner up to feedback circuit, and started scanning, idly directing Breakdown to Starscream’s arm.

‘All Clear’

Knock Out paused and frowned. Breakdown stopped in his motion. He’d gotten halfway through the welding. Starscream was also staring at Knock Out inquisitively. Knock Out, spark churning, looked Starscream in the optic and said, “You don’t have a processor malfunction.”

Starscream, who seemed to have been suspecting that from the first ‘All Clear’ that had been announced, immediately banged the back of his helm against the medical berth and groaned.

O~O

The Nemesis was a cold, imposing ship. Starscream loved it. He put damn near his entire life into the Nemesis.

He was the one to maintain her wings, he was the one to polish her hull, he was the one to regulate the fuel supply. Everyone gave that credit to Soundwave, but really. Of the two of them, Starscream was the one with far more emotional attachment and investment into the ship.

That was why it was all the more bitter when he walked up to the command deck and found not himself sitting in the metallic throne, but Megatron instead.

“You summoned me, Master?” Starscream gritted out after a few moments of silence.

Megatron stared at him blankly. Assessing. Airachnid was ever the simpering, irritating presence next to him. Next to him.

Hah.

Insult to injury.

(He was Megatron’s second-in-command. Not—Not her.)

“Starscream.” Megatron stood up, the deck creaking with each booming step he took. Starscream inched back. “Your untimely departure has… vexed me.” He stopped in front of the Seeker and stooped to meet his gaze. The creaking continued.

The creaking continued?

Starscream frowned involuntarily. “A thousand apologies, my lord.” He muttered absently.

“Apologies?” Megatron laughed incredulously. The creaking continued. Was it getting louder? “Starscream, your apologies don’t do anything. Your words mean nothing. You bring little results, if any.” He peered at Starscream, though the Seeker, at this point, was well and truly distracted.

The creaking was getting closer.

“Starscream.” Megatron hissed, and his EM-field swelled to a barely-contained balloon of rage.

All of a sudden, Starscream jumped up, grabbed Megatron by the helm, and pulled himself forward, and—

And then pulled back.

In his servo was a wriggling, chirping, scraplet.

“Soundwave.” Megatron’s vocalizer was strained. Airachnid had paled. Soundwave started paying attention. “Raise the alerts. We have an infestation.”

Wordlessly, as always, Soundwave pressed a button and the Nemesis started blaring. Starscream grimaced.

“Starscream.” Megatron’s voice was very controlled. “Destroy that thing.”

Starscream frowned. Looked at the scraplet. It looked back at him with its… cute… purple… optics… Starscream keened mournfully. “I—I can’t.”

“Starscream!” Megatron activated his fusion cannon. “Are you so useless of a Seeker that you can’t even kill one scraplet—”

It was as if a comedy show had overtaken the Nemesis. A really bad comedy show, with someone who had terrible humor driving the reins. For at that very moment, three vents exploded outwards and a veritable swarm of scraplets came flying out.

The Command Deck erupted into chaos.

Megatron started shooting blindly into the fray. Soundwave deposited Laserbeak in a non-metallic box Starscream had given him near the beginning of the war as a gift. Airachnid was screaming and trying to find a way off the Nemesis. Knock Out and Breakdown did not even bother showing up.

Meanwhile Starscream was just standing there, scratching the scraplet on the top of her helm (he decided it was a her) and cooing inanely like he truly did have a processor malfunction over the years. “Such a cutie, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are!”

The scraplet trilled.

“Starscream!”

Megatron’s voice was lost in the swarm.

(Idly, Starscream wondered how long it would take them to realize that the scraplets weren’t eating them)

“Good girl.” Starscream cooed. The scraplet in his servo rubbed her helm against his digits and purred. Starscream smiled. “I shall name you…” he hesitated. “Princess.”

The scraplet jumped out of his servo and started cuddling up next to his neck cables. Bit by bit, the rest of the scraplet swarm also settled around him.

In the end, Starscream was surrounded by roughly 600 scraplets, all vying for his attention and/or curling up for recharge next to him. He crooned at them mindlessly. They were so cute—

“Starscream—” Megatron’s voice sounded strangled. It was also, unfortunately, what brought Starscream out of the haze he found himself inadvertently drowning in.

Silently, the Seeker took stock of his situation. 600 scraplets. All at his beck and call. Starscream looked up at Megatron, whose optics and EM-field belied his fear (albeit very slightly), and grinned. “I’m keeping them.”

Chapter Text

Megatron was once a gladiator. He was the Gladiator. The Gladiator of Kaon, unbeatable in the arena. He had faced the closest thing to Predacons the Cybertronian Golden age had, and he came out on top.

All this considered, said and done, when one of Starscream’s new… pets skittered up to him and smiled, he flinched and belatedly pushed down the urge to jump off the Nemesis as a whole.

“Now,” Starscream cooed, optics alighting red in sadism. “That’s not very nice of you all. Come now, come now! Here, ah, Purgatory.”

The scraplet that had hobbled up to Megatron—disgusting, nightmare of a thing—immediately spun around and hopped back to Starscream. Purgatory. Purgatory.

Megatron felt somewhat faint.

Starscream… named a scraplet… Purgatory.

“Starscream,” Megatron hissed. Starscream glanced up at him, sadistically amused. Megatron did not share in the sentiment. The throne of the Command Deck could only hold so much weight, and if he stayed atop it longer, it might just—

The throne creaked. Megatron’s spark stuttered. It gave out. He landed on the floor in a fashion most humiliating. Starscream collapsed with laughter.

“Starscream,” Megatron groaned and righted himself comfortably. Not-so-subtly, his fusion cannon was humming with a level of power only previously reserved for the early days of the war when his feud with Optimus Prime was fresh and there were far more Autobots to kill. “What are you doing, you imbecile?!”

At once, all the scraplets lounging on Starscream’s frame turned to him in synchrony. Megatron felt a deep, primal part of him shiver. Starscream merely pouted. “Don’t call me that,” he whined, so very clearly amused despite the overwrought complaining tone. “I don’t like being called ‘imbecile’. It makes me feel… angry. Hm?” Starscream grinned sharply, and Megatron wanted to strangle him. “You wouldn’t want me feeling angry, now would you?”

The scraplets, in unison, blinked. This time, Megatron shivered quite visibly. No. This was not the right route to go with Starscream. The power dynamics had shifted. Megatron took a step back and reassessed. Starscream, all of a sudden, seemed to go up in priority.

What do I need to know? Megatron’s processor whirred, all the efficiency of his time in the arena coming back to haunt him in a way most potent. What should I say?

The lights of the Nemesis blinked, and then it came to him.

“The Nemesis, Starscream.” Megatron implored. It sickened him to use such a seemingly submissive tone, after his time in the Pits, but with 600 scraplets staring him down, the bitter pill was quite easy to swallow. “The scraplets you have taken a fancy to… In the end, they still consume metal.” Megatron rose, and his frame was nothing if not regal with every step. “Trypticon would be… ah, betrayed.”

Starscream, as expected, stiffened at Megatron’s words. His wings fluttered anxiously, ever so expressive, and his optics darted around. Hm. Megatron should start pushing…

Starscream’s grip tightened on the scraplets.

…Now.

“Truly, Starscream.” Megatron stepped forward, siphoning more energy to the fusion cannon. Should a single scraplet move…  Well, Megatron was no Seeker, but he was quite good at killing things. “Did you not care for him? Is this the extent of your so-called Seeker bonds?” Megatron stopped in his advance, close enough to have his shadow looming over Starscream, far enough to allow him time to react should the scraplets jump. “My opinion of you grows ever-lower.”

Starscream hunched over, and his wings drooped. The scraplets all buzzed over him, this strange, deviant, nightmarish monstrosity over his frame. Then, he perked up. “Scraplets!” he announced, “If any of you eat Trypticon—the Nemesis—I will eat you!”

The scraplets paused in their motion, and seemed to confer with each other—an absurd sight that made Megatron shiver—before they seemingly agreed. Starscream met Megatron’s optics then, insufferably smug. “Scraplets do not need to eat.” He murmured. “They are the damned given form. Parasites of living metal, to crave warmth they never attained. There, Master. How about it? I fixed our problem, didn’t I?” he sneered.

Megatron bared his dentae. Seekers, he thought darkly, and their silly little superstitions.

There was little other thing a scraplet was, than that of a parasite. All this belief of them being the spirits of the damned in the early days of Primus and Unicron was… stupidity. Still, Megatron was wise enough to hold his glossa. He doubted Starscream would truly send the scraplets after him—the fool Seeker craved Megatron’s approval far too much, after all—but Megatron did not want his endeavors to be harder than they already were.

“Can I have them eat Airachnid?” Starscream suddenly questioned.

Airachnid, who failed at her singular task of getting off the ship, squawked inelegantly. “No! Lord Megatron! Master, tell this—this wretch to—” she couldn’t quite string words together. Megatron stared at her blankly. Treasonous wretch, he thought dully. Disloyal to the cause, disloyal to me. Then, he turned to face Starscream.

“This is the one concession I grant you.”

Starscream’s faceplate brightened and his wings fluttered. Long since had the stage of verbal exclamations of happiness passed for them both, but Megatron, straining his audials, could hear a slight hitch in Starscream’s vents. “Much obliged, Master,” Starscream purred. And then he whipped around to point haughtily at Airachnid.

The femme stepped back.

“Go!” Starscream screeched, “Feed!”

Airachnid dropped all pretense of loftiness now, and she immediately shifted into her altmode to gain distance. Unfortunately, Megatron noted with a small amount of amusement, It is as Starscream said. Her vehicle mode lacks…

The scraplets launched at her, and tore an arm off upon impact. Airachnid screamed. Starscream and a few Eradicons cheered them on.

…thrust.

Airachnid stumbled away from sight, and a few moments later, Soundwave walked up to Megatron, perching on his data cables. “Lord Megatron,” Soundwave used Starscream’s intonation. Megatron’s derma reflexively twitched down. “Airachnid—is falling—body—unrecoverable.”

A myriad of voices assaulted Megatron’s audials, some Cybertronian, some these strange fleshling songs they played on the electromagnetic waves of the earth. Megatron grimaced and rubbed his forehelm. “Yes, Soundwave.” He bit out tiredly. “Much appreciated.”

Of course, this was exactly the moment Starscream decided he wanted attention. “You always appreciate him!” the damn Seeker whined. His wings flared out, “I’m the one who threw her out!”

“Yes, but you didn’t terminate her, did you?” Megatron patronized, only to stiffen imperceptibly at the scraplet that hobbled up to him earlier—Purgatory? Was it?—slowly turned its own bulging optics to meet his own.

As it was, Starscream didn’t notice the action, and merely sulked, wings drooping. “I terminated the Autobot Cliffjumper,” he reminded.

Before Megatron could reply, the doors to the Nemesis Command Deck flung open and Knock Out came strutting in, blue streaked across his chassis and faceplate set into an annoyed glare. “Yes, Kommandant, we get it, you’re pretty, now can you shut up about it?”

Starscream bared his dentae. “I would watch that finish if I were you, Knock Out,” he threatened, optics dark. The scraplets returned from the vents where they attempted to track Airachnid through the sky. “It is so easily ruined…”

Knock Out, sufficiently cowed—and whether it was by the numerous scraplets now surrounding Starscream’s form or the fact that the Seeker himself (regrettably) outranked him, Megatron did not know—shrunk back and whispered. “What in the Pits.”

Starscream seemed to be enjoying himself, lounging back on his pseudo-throne made of scraplets. “Well, Knock Out?” he purred. “Do continue.”

Knock Out visibly swallowed and shook his helm. “I was merely… asking what the commotion was! Yes! What was the commotion about?”

Megatron sighed. “Airachnid left the Nemesis,” he informed with no preamble. Knock Out stared at him in shock. Megatron felt compelled to add, “Through an escape hatch. Five minutes ago.”

Breakdown, who entered not too long ago, covered in red paint streaks, looked vaguely nauseated. “Our altitude is 4000 kilometers…”

“5000 kilometers,” Starscream corrected idly, toying with a scraplet on his wrist. It looked demented. Megatron wanted to tear it apart.

“That…” Breakdown seemed to be torn between disgust and ballooning happiness. The happiness was winning.

“Well I say good riddance!” Knock Out snorted. “No one liked her, anyway.”

A few brave Vehicons and Eradicons piped up their agreement. Soundwave, when Megatron glanced at him again, was perched on the topmost remnant of Megatron’s broken throne. Which he broke. By sitting on it. (Waste of a throne. A disappointment to its Decepticon heritage)

Megatron shot Soundwave a perfunctory glare and Soundwave responded with a smiley face. “Starscream,” he addressed. “You are responsible for those scraplets. If anything—anything goes wrong on this ship,” He turned and narrowed his optics. Starscream, as usual, shrunk back. Megatron felt a lick of satisfaction curl his fuel lines. “You will be the one to take the fall.”

“Wha—But Master!” Starscream’s wings were hiked up high, equal parts affront and panic gracing his features. “I am your Air Commander, not some—not some glorified repair-bot—”

“I did not ask you for arguments, Starscream,” Megatron cut in quietly, dangerously. “I did not ask you at all. This is an order. Do you understand?”

Starscream pressed his dermas together with a nod, his wings fluttering in a series of imperceptible emotions, and Megatron, remembering the pile of scraplets around Starscream, considered and added, “Good Seeker.”

Soundwave dropped the box he was picking Laserbeak out of. Knock Out stopped and turned to Megatron, staring at him incredulously, and then analytically, as if trying to pick out the processor malfunction from a distance. Breakdown audibly choked. But Starscream?

Starscream’s optics widened. Starscream’s derma started twitching into a smile. Starscream held his stupid little parasites close and murmured something under his breath. Starscream looked more loyal to Megatron in that singular moment of praise than he had in the past two-and-a-half million years.

And then, of course, the moment broke as the emotion covered up with a haughty flare of the Seeker’s wings. “Of course, Master,” he simpered, and Megatron wanted to strangle him yet again. “I am, after all, your only competent Seeker.” The pointed glare he sent Megatron’s way was an extremely unsubtle method of dissing Dreadwing while he was absent.

Megatron, on a normal day, would have powered his fusion cannon against Starscream. However, this was not a normal day, and Megatron’s gaze was strayed more often than not by the many, many scraplets surrounding Starscream’s frame, so, with patience worthy of the Primes, he held his glossa and merely glared Starscream into submission.

“Heh.” Starscream cowered, “I will be… taking my leave now… Master…”

O~O

Starscream… did not quite know what was going on. 600 scraplets followed behind him, some flying, some fighting. They all blinked up at him with their stupid, cute optics, and Starscream found himself crooning and cooing like an idiot over them before he could stop himself. “Listen,” he purred, “My babies. My cuties. My beautiful little idiots.” He ignored Knock Out’s snort. “If I find a single hole in any part of the Nemesis, in Trypticon,” he made sure to make optic contact with every scraplet he could, “I am going to eat you. Understand?”

The scraplets all nodded excitedly, absurd little dentae whirring with a nightmare-inducing noise. Starscream smiled fondly. “And no eating the Decepticons,” he added, after a moment of thought. “The spark-recycling system is long and arduous and the more we cycle back the drones’ sparks into cold constructs, the more ineffective soldiers we have.”

The scraplets seemed to wilt. Ah. It seems they were planning on consuming the Decepticons. Hm. “Don’t worry,” Starscream assured, gathering as many close as he could, and hugging them to his chassis. They snuggled over his spark chamber. It was a perilously adorable scene. “There are many, many fleshling buildings in this world,” he cooed. “And I care about absolutely none of them.”

The scraplets all perked up. Starscream stood on his own and cleared his throat. “Onward, minions!” he shrieked, before grabbing Princess and Purgatory—his favorites—and placing them on his shoulders. Princess bared her dentae and smiled ferally (more so than normal scraplets) while Purgatory shyly hobbled in place.

As the mob of scraplets skittered through the hallways of the Nemesis, traumatizing any poor Vehicon and Eradicon (except for one, who cooed over them the same way Starscream did), Starscream found his processor floating back to the praise Megatron had bestowed upon him earlier.

“Hm.” It took all he had to not glance back. He knew his gaze would be imploring. Stupid. Humiliating. Begging for more praise.

…Starscream had truly thought that such a mech was gone. That Megatron would never say that to him ever again. Starscream had truly thought… he was chasing a ghost.

(And he might as well have been, what with the sour expression Megatron had when he gave the praise itself)

Still, Starscream’s wings fluttered in pleasure before he could tamp them down, that small mech inside him that still looked at Megatronus like he hung the stars and sun and moon in the sky. I want… more.

And so, a terrible, dastardly plan started cooking in his processor...

Chapter Text

Starscream thought he was managing his scraplets rather well, all things considered.

Hm. I could rule the Decepticons, he thought idly. He watched as Megatron’s optics tracked the movement of his scraplets—Princess in particular—with a great unease. Hm.

Starscream dropped the fleeting thought. He far preferred the hidden blade everyone knew about—the disguised length and deceptive sharpness—than the blade that would be out in the open. Better to put Megatron in a chokehold here with his lovely scraplets than risk their demise (and his own) should he fail.

Accursed Megatron. Like an Earthen roach, he always seemed to fail at dying.

(Starscream pretended that he didn’t just want Megatron’s attention, Megatron’s fear, Megatron’s respect—Starscream pretended that the little part of him that watched Megatron’s matches oh-so-long ago, watched him tear his opponents to pieces in the Pits no longer existed.

The ugly truth, of course, was that it did exist, and the hero worship, sadly, did not dwindle)

A scraplet gnawed at Starscream’s pede. It did not break the outer metal—it was really just a nibble at most—but Starscream shifted his pede and flicked it off, scoffing. “Are you hungry?”

The scraplet that had gnawed on his pede—ah, shoot, he didn’t name it—The scraplet now dubbed… dubbed… Tom that had gnawed on his pede—ah yes, lovely name… even if it did smell like organic rot—shifted bashfully and flickered his optics. Starscream stared at him blankly. Princess seemed rather bored on his shoulder. Purgatory made a sound vaguely similar to worry.

“You wish to consume sustenance?” Starscream sniffed.

Tom nodded again. It was a rather funny action, Starscream suddenly realized, nodding on a scraplet. The entire mass of their bodies would bob up and down. Heh. Starscream found it beyond amusing.

“Very well,” he purred, “I shall go track down a location for our… excursion.”

The scraplets surged and formed a hugging motion around him. Starscream stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed into it. The sound of whirring dentae and the scent of stale energon was only mildly unnerving. I’m a Seeker, he assured himself to soothe his irrational fear. I could clear this entire swarm out in mere moments.

(Never mind that Seekers often hunted scraplets in pairs)

“Go find a Vehicon or something while I’m gone,” Starscream ordered, half-expecting the scraplets to fully disobey him and eat someone while Starscream was absent. The fallout, admittedly, would be quite terrible, but as long as it wasn’t anyone important, Starscream did not worry. In fact, if it was Megatron they ate…

(Well, if that happened, Soundwave would be completely and utterly insufferable)

So then, if it was Soundwave they ate…

(Well, if that happened, the Decepticons would be doomed)

Starscream suppressed a groan. Megatron, he thought spitefully. You make all my bids for leadership so slagging hard.

“Don’t eat them,” Starscream groaned, waving a servo. “Don’t eat anyone, okay? My threat from yesterday still stands: If I feel even one thing wrong on the Nemesis, I am going to eat all of you. One by one by one. Understand?”

The scraplets buzzed, optics flickering, bobbing up and down. Starscream’s dermas twitched. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

And with that, he strode out of his berthroom, turned the hall, his scraplets following behind him, and remotely submitted his request for minor PTO to Soundwave. “Remember,” he called out, one last time, spreading his wings, “Don’t eat anyone…”

And then he took off.

O~O

Princess watched as her Master left. Then, she slowly turned to her friend, Purgatory. And smiled. Purgatory shifted uneasily, glancing between her and the other few hundred scraplets in the hangar. They all were waiting patiently for their Master to return.

::He said find a Vehicon:: Princess intoned, mischievous.

::He also said not to eat anyone:: Purgatory cautioned.

::…Well, he never said we couldn’t mess with them:: Princess sang in her chittering, beeping voice.

Purgatory looked at her, and then looked at the rest of the swarm. ::…If anything goes wrong, you are the one justifying yourself to him::

Princess giggled in a series of beeps.

O~O

Starscream returned from his flight with a list of fleshling metal ruins in his mind. As he touched down on the Nemesis, his scraplets all sat before him, diligent and innocent. Starscream smiled indulgently. Oh, how cute they were…

O~O

“WHERE IS MY PRIMUS-DAMNED BUFFER?!?!?!?!”

Breakdown groaned and tried to discreetly cover his audials with something. The ‘something’ he was using was promptly ripped away form his servos. Knock Out glared down at him, impossibly agitated.

“I am in emotional distress,” he bit out, “And you, my dear Conjunx, are taking a nap.”

Breakdown held his glossa on the response he really wanted to throw at Knock Out, and instead said, “Look, I can get you a new buffer.”

Knock Out made a sound of greater distress than before. “I am emotionally attached to my old buffer!”

Breakdown could not suppress his groan this time. “Right then,” he strained out, shifting and sliding off the berth in the most visibly demotivated way possible. “I’ll… help you look for it.” Again. For the nineteenth time.

Knock Out’s faceplate brightened, and Breakdown, for a moment, forgot his exhaustion.

“That’s wonderful! You check behind the Psychic Patch berths and I will check…”

Breakdown groaned out loud this time. Knock Out took no notice. All of a sudden, his exhaustion returned.

Feeling quite sad, Breakdown trudged towards the Psychic Patch berths and began looking around them once more. For the nineteenth time.

O~O

Starscream stared at the buffer and shook it. It seemed vaguely familiar. “Why is this here?” he questioned. “I don’t remember this being here.”

Princess flickered her optics innocently. Purgatory looked away conspicuously. Starscream glared at them both, critical, and then he tossed the buffer aside; He’d deal with that later. He had a bigger problem to deal with now.

“Princess.” He said, rather controlled, all things considered “Purgatory.”

The two scraplets—the designated leaders of the swarm—chirped to attention. Starscream gestured at the Vehicon sitting trussed up on his berth. “What is the meaning of this?”

Princess glanced at Purgatory. Purgatory did not return the gaze, evidently guilty. Starscream glared at Princess. You, he was about to point out. You are the culprit.

Alas, he could say nothing, for it was at that exact point in time that the Vehicon suddenly decided it would be best to speak.

“Hi Commander,” The Vehicon purred. “My name is Steve.”

Starscream stared.

What… What is a Steve???

The Vehicon shrunk. Oh, oops, Starscream said that out loud. Eh, whatever. “What are you doing here?” Starscream snarled. “Who gave you the code to my berthroom?”

The Vehicon shifted, still trussed up—and expertly so, now that Starscream really looked at the bindings. His arms were locked to his sides, his ankles locked to each other, there was a metal bar clipping the mobility of the underside of his pede—Starscream did not know he was reaching out for one of the bonds until he rolled them around in his digits.

The Vehicon, who had been talking before that apparently, suddenly went silent, watching with wide optics, as Starscream sat himself on his own berth and picked at the bonds. “These are rather good,” Starscream muttered, “Who made them?”

At once, the Vehicon surged forward. “I did!” he said desperately, and whatever charm he may have had in the beginning was now entirely lost. “I, uh, I taught the scraplets how to do the knot.”

Starscream blinked. Scraplets? “My scraplets did this?”

The Vehicon nodded in pride. “They’re very smart,” he praised, “They pranked the entirety of this ship within the time you were gone.”

Starscream stared at the Vehicon. “…Right.”

The Vehicon shifted uncomfortably. Starscream stared at the motion, somewhat disgusted. A drone, he lamented, on his own berth. Were his own scraplets abandoning him now?

“The way Megatron treats you is wrong!” The Vehicon suddenly blurted out, and Starscream froze. “He hurts you! He, uh, he—” The Vehicon’s visor-faceplate silver became tinted with blue. “I could treat you better,” he muttered petulantly, jealously.

Starscream stared at the Vehicon, blank.

Starscream leaned against Skyfire’s shoulder, optics aching with coolant. Skyfire traced the edge of his faceplate with a digit, optics impossibly tender, and for a moment, Starscream forgot his current courting and wondered, for a fleeting, dangerous second, what it would be like with this Shuttle instead.

“He hurts you,” Skyfire whispered, distant, optics dark, “…I could treat you better.”

Starscream blinked. His spark twisted with old grief. “Get out,” he ordered quietly. His scraplets, sensing his mood change, shifted uncomfortably behind him. “Get out!”

The Vehicon shifted in his bonds. “I—I can’t—”

Starscream snarled and cut through the bonds with his talons. They were good bonds, he remembered belatedly. They were the good kind of bonds that were electrified around the center. Cutting through them the way he did made it feel like the third stage of the Cybonic Plague itself was tearing through his systems. Starscream grit his dentae and pushed the feeling away. “Leave.” He ordered. “Before I scrap you for parts.”

The Vehicon looked down and away bashfully, hopping off Starscream’s berth. “Sorry,” he whispered. Starscream did not deign him with a response. The Vehicon shuffled out of the room.

When everything was left in silence, Starscream put his servo down and stared at the berth, old memories flitting through his mind, and stared.

O~O

::Soundwave:: Megatron rubbed his forehelm. He desperately needed engex. Desperately. ::Where are you?::

::…Soundwave: on Earth::

Megatron bit back a sigh. They all were on Earth. That was the most useless piece of information he had ever gotten from his Third in Command. ::Yes, Soundwave:: he responded dryly ::Thank you for the enlightening tidbit::

::😊::

::Soundwave, why are you not here?::

Soundwave remained silent for a moment. Then, he spoke, with a lofty tone and faux apology. ::Soundwave: Currently in the middle of something::

::Soundwave—::

::Soundwave: Sends Megatron his regards::

::—Do not run away—::

:: <3 ::

Soundwave dropped off the line. Megatron stared at the datapad he was supposed to be reading, and then promptly threw it across the room at the nearest Eradicon he saw. Said Eradicon jumped in fear and immediately scuttled out of the Command Deck. Megatron groaned unintelligibly and pressed his faceplate into his servos. This, he thought miserably, Is so fragging stupid.

Another Eradicon—a different one—filtered into the room. This one was covered in glitter. Where and how glitter got onto the Nemesis, Megatron had no idea whatsoever. (He blamed Knock Out)

“Lord Megatron,” the Eradicon stuttered, and Megatron wasn’t sure if the stutter was out of fear or an impending mental breakdown. “Th-They—They—”

Ah. Mental breakdown then.

“I will install a complaint box,” Megatron uttered, vocalizer glitching out with static. “Put your complaint in the complaint box.”

The Eradicon burst out sobbing. It was bright pink. A hideous bright pink. An Autobot bright pink. Megatron hummed sympathetically; Must be traumatizing.

The Eradicon ran out of the Command Deck.

Five seconds later, another Vehicon entered. They held in their servo half of an Earthling Lego set. The other half was conspicuously absent. Megatron sighed and listened to the blubbering one more time.

O~O

When Soundwave returned to the Nemesis, it was in a full decked out suit of wooden armor, polished and intricately painted. He waved jauntily at Megatron, who was listening to two Eradicons and a Vehicon who were stuck together in the most compromising of positions and then bounded over to his post.

Megatron stared for a moment, then stared at the stuck drones, and then made a sound of incredible distress.

“Uh,” the Vehicon who was stuck between the Eradicons questioned dryly, “My Lord?”

Megatron glared down at them, grabbed an Eradicon, and hissed, “Close your damn interface panel.”

“B-But the contact point, sir—”

Megatron growled and yanked the Eradicon off the Vehicon. They shrieked and the interface panel on their wrist reflexively closed. Megatron shook the Eradicon and then threw them across the room. “Any other protests?”

The other Eradicon looked between the thrown-across-the-room Eradicon and Megatron, before slowly shaking their head and detaching from the Vehicon with much effort. The Vehicon sighed in relief. “Thank you, my Lord.” He said.

“If you mention it,” Megatron said flatly, ignoring the cackling GIFs and laughing emojis Soundwave found fit to send him at this very moment, “I am going to terminate you and drop you into this organic ocean to rust.”

The Vehicon nodded, infuriatingly unflappable, and saluted. “Sir, yes sir!”

The Vehicon and Eradicon and the Idiot Eradicon all exited the room. As the doors to the Command Deck closed, Soundwave suddenly turned around, still decked in that absurd wooden armor of his, and projected a video of an organic duck onto his visor, Megatron’s own voice undercutting the background.

“Close your damn interface panel.”

Megatron winced.

Soundwave played a giggling sound, and then rewound the audio. “C-C-Close yer damn inter-panel-panel, C-C-Close yer damn inter-panel-panel,”

Megatron stared off into space, all of a sudden wishing very acutely that he was back in the Pits.

Oh, what a simpler time that was.

“C-C-Close yer damn…”

O~O

Princess watched as her Master stared off into space. Her little EM-field flared with indignation. ::Master should totally get with Steve!:: she argued.

Purgatory looked away. ::Master deserves someone like Steve:: he agreed quietly ::But I do not think Steve can protect Master::

::Steve can love Master!:: Princess argued. ::And Steve is taller!::

::Literally why does that matter?::

Princess made a noise of distress. It sounded more like a sadistic chirp. ::Let my ship sail!:: she whined. Purgatory looked at her, remarkably dubious for an expressionless scraplet.

::You have been spending far too much time on the organic internet::

::We were in metal ruins for a hundred fifty years. What else was I supposed to do? I was the first to gain lucid thought! You did not gain lucidity until half a century ago! Who else was I supposed to converse with? Who else was I supposed to take comfort in? Is it not so strange that the first piece of company I gain, I cling to?:: Princess cycled her dentae and snapped at Purgatory, who immediately submitted to her rage.

::Alright, alright:: Purgatory soothed, before hedging ::I still think that maybe… there could be someone better::

Princess chirped out a scoff. ::I do not believe you::

Purgatory hummed, and with his three little legs, jumped onto their Master’s berth and skittered over to him. ::Whether you believe me or not:: he hissed, shuttering his bulging optics and snuggling up next to Starscream, his faction of the scraplets joining him, ::I do not care. I just can’t help but think, you know? Maybe there is… someone better::

::Oh yeah?:: Princess questioned sarcastically, jumping onto the berth with Purgatory, her own faction of scraplets following her loyally like the little mindless things they were. ::Like who?:: she snuggled in on her Master’s other shoulder.

Purgatory made a distorted humming sound. ::Maybe an old friend or something:: he chirped ::Maybe someone who shares a history with him. Maybe someone he already had feelings for long ago::

Princess flickered her optics callously ::Anyone from such a time is long since dead:: she said flatly ::If they were to come back, it would only hurt our Master. I say he should get someone new::

::If there was someone of the past who truly loved him and they share their feelings now, would it not be healing?:: Purgatory countered with a chirp, ::Would it not remind him of better days?::

Princess thought of her response. The other scraplets did not make a sound, mindless fools as they were. Sometimes, Princess yearned for their company, for their lucidity; It was hard having only Purgatory to talk to. Other times, she missed the loneliness and the absolute influence she had over the swarm. ::Our Master has changed:: she whirred finally, ::Maybe they would only remind him of what he lost::

::But maybe they would also make him feel like he has regained—::

“Would you both shut up?” Their Master groused, rolling over. “You’re annoying me.”

At once, both scraplets silenced themselves. Purgatory snuggled up to Starscream on one side, Princess on the other. They both dimmed their optics and obeyed—leaving the conversation to be taken up at a later point.

O~O

Somewhere, far away, in the vast swathes of ice, a firn broke away with the remnants of heat. A mech’s servo was bared to the world, and optics blue onlined to the clear sky.

A signal was sent out.