Chapter Text
Starscream didn't get far. One of his thrusters gave out just as he passed the edge of the battlefield. He did his best to control his landing, but there wasn't much he could do. He laid beside Slipstream, cooling fans on maximum, as he attempted to recover his energy. If he was lucky, Acid Storm and Ion Storm would come looking. If he wasn't…
There was nothing to do but wait. He forced himself to sit, searching the area for anything he could use. Aside from dirt and debris, there wasn't much. He'd learned his lesson when it came to using dirt to seal off his lines—never again.
The side of Starscream's arm stung. He let out a quiet hiss, pulling away claws he didn't realize were scratching. The itch was across his entire body now, pervasive and endless. Where had it come from? He gave up, rolling in the dirt. Stupidly, it helped—every tiny rock, leaf and root grating against his plating.
"Someone is over here."
Starscream froze. He didn't recognize the voice. They were neither Autobot nor Decepticon. If he played dead, would they leave him alone? But Slipstream couldn't play dead. He needed her.
He forced himself into a crouching position, plating flexing as he tried to assuage the itch. He charged up his rays on the highest setting his fuel levels could support. The voice approached. Another set of pedesteps followed after it. The other mech spoke too quietly for Starscream to make out, but something about the voice was familiar. Not enough for him to lower his guard, but enough for him to wait before shooting.
A pair of optics shone through the foliage. They were low to the ground. Whoever this was, they were cassette-sized, only slightly taller than Ravage. He adjusted his aim. The mech crept out of the foliage, optics wide.
He was correct. They were, in fact, a cybercat cassette. Their pale plating shone in the sliver of sun that passed through the canopy. Yellow optics stared into his.
"You're alive," the cybercat said softly. "That's good."
"Who are you?" Starscream growled, fanning out his wings.
The cybercat pinned his ears, a frown creasing his face. He took a step backward.
"I am Glit," he said. "I'm neither Decepticon nor Autobot. I am a member of the Cybertronian Revival Initiative. I've been visiting battlefields and treating the mecha I find for quite some time. I wish to treat you and your friend."
The CRI? Starscream fanned his wings wider. Of course they'd be in this world, too! But why were they on Earth?
"I know what the CRI is," Starscream hissed. "I don't trust you."
Glit hung his helm. "I simply wish to help. I hold no agenda beyond preserving the lifeforms of Cybertron, and that includes you."
Starscream glanced at Slipstream. She was still in stasis. Energeon leaked from her wounds. How much did she have left? If he waited for Acid Storm and Ion Storm, would they arrive before she ran out?
It was either allowing this CRI mech to treat them or waiting for help that may not come, from mecha who weren't qualified for anything beyond basic field medicine. He couldn't let her die. He needed her.
"Fine," Starscream said. "But I'll be watching you."
Glit dipped his head and approached carefully, glancing at Starscream before sitting in front of Slipstream. He examined her for a moment, then gently pried open her medical panel. Starscream averted his gaze the moment Glit dug his claws in, something squirming in his spark.
Glit hummed and turned back toward the woods, where a second set of optics shone.
"Can I call my friend over?" Glit asked. "He'll help me stabilize her more quickly."
Starscream nodded. Glit motioned with his tail for the other mech to approach. The moment they entered the light, recognition send a zing through Starscream's processor. The garish color scheme was one he often associated with red, never far from a particular medic.
"Breakdown?" He muttered.
The mech turned toward him, brow furrowed. "Do I know you?"
Starscream shook his head. His world's Breakdown died long before the war ended. He barely knew the mech, but his frequent trips to the medbay made him a familiar face.
Glit called Breakdown over. The two worked diligently. Starscream watched them the whole time, but there was nothing suspicious about what they were doing. They sealed off her lines, cleaned her wounds, and gave her some medical grade energeon intralineally.
Starscream scratched at his elbows. How many times had they done this? How many soldiers left for dead were inexplicably found alive when their comrades came to collect their bodies because of these two mecha? Were they there when Slipstream was ill?
Glit glared it him. "Stop scratching yourself."
Starscream hissed. He ignored the command, digging his claws into one of his seams. Again, he longed to just tear out his fuel lines. Why was he so itchy?
They finished stabilizing Slipstream. Starscream knew because Glit scowled before marching over to him, tail lashing. Glit nipped at his claws, forcing Starscream to withdraw them. With a sigh, he nosed at Starscream's medical panel.
Starscream slipped off his arm guard. But as he prepared to open his medical panel, he hesitated. A strange tension crept into the back of his processor. He forced himself through it and send the command. Glit plugged into his panel with a smooth motion that sang of experience.
After a moment, Glit hummed. He disconnected his cable and looked at Starscream.
"Did you fuel on anything unusual recently?" He asked.
The bitter taste of dark energeon coated Starscream's mouth. He swallowed.
"Yes," he muttered.
Glit narrowed his optics. "What was it?"
Would Glit recognize it if he called it dark energeon? The CRI of his world encountered it, but they had a different name for it. What had Windblade called it?
"U-Unicron's blood," Starscream said. "Not of my own volition."
Glit's glare softened. He curled his ears. Slowly, he brought his face close to Starscream's chest. Starscream dug his claws into the ground as Glit placed an audial against his chestplates.
"Spark sounds strong," he said, pulling away. "Your vitals were good enough. Do you normally run cold?"
Starscream shrugged. Glit flicked his tail again.
"This is highly unusual, but I believe you're having an allergic reaction."
Starscream narrowed his optics. "What?"
He knew what an allergic reaction was. They were more common in mechanimals, who were able to process a wide spectrum of fuels. Up until the CRI developed the surgery to modify fuel processing systems, cybertronians could only consume energeon and candied or jellied forms of it, so allergies were nearly unheard of. A mech who couldn't drink energeon didn't last long.
"Your immune system has decided the dark energeon is a pathogen," Glit said. "Rather than processing it, it's attempting to expunge it. You're itchy because your immu-nanites are attacking your own nanites to get rid of it."
"I know," Starscream said. "I just don't understand why."
Glit hummed. "I don't, either. I haven't seen this reaction before. I can do one of two things: take you back to our base so I can flush your lines, or give you an anti-inflammatory and an immune suppressor so you can wait it out."
Starscream glanced at Slipstream, who Breakdown was still hovering over. He couldn't leave her, no matter how desperate he was to get rid of the fire in his fuel lines. Glit followed his gaze.
"She has to come with us no matter what," Glit said. "She needs surgery to fix that optic and replace that wing. And I suspect some internal damage, based on the amount of energeon she's still losing after sealing those lines."
Starscream bared his teeth, muffling a growl. "Do you often steal mecha from the battlefield?"
Glit tilted his head and flicked his tail, the cybercat equivalent of a shrug. Breakdown looked up from his work monitoring Slipstream. He stared into Starscream's optics with a frown.
"He did it to me," Breakdown said. "It saved my life. He'll save hers, too."
Starscream hissed. He brought his hands to his face and groaned in irritation.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Take me to your base. I'm not leaving her."
☆☆☆
The first thing Starscream noticed upon entering Glit's base—which he insisted was just a lab, he wasn't a fighter—was that it was swarming with retrorats. They walked through the first set of doors, then the second, and the moment Starscream set pede in the place, something squeaked angrily beneath him. He lifted his pede, and an irate retrorat bared its teeth at him before scurrying away.
Some climbed across the ceiling. Others clung to the walls. Many darted to and fro on the floor. Various wall panels were chewed, some completely disconnected. Starscream grimaced.
"You have a pest problem," he muttered.
Glit approached one of the rats, sniffing it. It sniffed him back. He licked it on the helm, and it squeaked happily.
"Not a pest problem," Glit said. "They're my project. Each scientist in the CRI chose a species to preserve."
A particularly large retrorat stared at him from the corner of the room. Starscream glared at it.
He had fond memories of the creatures from his time with his world's Skyfire. But back then, they were kept in pens and cages, not allowed to free roam and wreck the lab. The sharp fangs of retrorats grew forever, so they were driven to gnaw on and tear apart anything their could get their paws on to wear them down, resulting in messes like this.
Glit whistled, and all of the retrorats on the floor moved toward the walls, clearing the area. After a glance toward the rest of the group, he headed toward a door on the other side of the room. The large retrorat, ignoring whatever command Glit gave them, scurried toward him. Glit dipped his head toward the retrorat, then jumped up to open the door. As soon as the door opened, the retrorat ran in.
After Glit, Breakdown went in, placing Slipstream on one of the berths in the room. Starscream trailed behind him. The retrorat watched him, perched on one of the counters.
Starscream motioned to it. "Should that really be here?"
The retrorat squeaked angrily. Glit turned toward it. His tail lashed.
"Off the counter," he said.
"I'm not causin' harm," the retrorat muttered.
Oh. Well. That explained a lot.
"Down," Glit said. "Your paws are dirty."
The retrorat beastformer groaned and leaped down from the counter. Sure enough, there was a set of muddy pawprints where he just was.
"Whatever ya say, Sparkles," the beastformer muttered.
Glit rolled his optics and huffed. "Rattrap."
Rattrap scowled. "I know, I know! You don't have ta tell me twice!"
He ran to the corner of the room. A small container sat on top of a towel. He leaped into the container. Glit watched him for a moment, then turned toward Starscream.
"Pick a berth," he said.
Starscream hesitated. "Aren't you going to treat Slipstream?"
Glit shook his helm. "All that's left now is surgery. Breakdown can monitor her until I'm ready to start. I'm more concerned about you."
Starscream's fingers twitched. He took a seat on the nearest berth.
"I'm going to be there when you wake her up," he said.
The thought of leaving her alone summoned the memory file of her thrashing on the floor after Galvatron attacked her, convinced Starscream was trying to harm her. Acid Storm's remarks about her reactivity flooded his mind. If she woke here with two strangers hovering over her, it wouldn't end well for anyone involved.
"You will," Glit said. "Open both of your panels. I'll be back in a moment."
Glit headed to the other side of the room. Starscream wrapped his hand around one of his arm guards. He attempted to remove it, but hesitated. If he took them off, he'd be open. Exposed.
He hissed to himself. What was he even thinking? This was stupid. He closed his optics and swiped one guard off, then the other. But maybe opening his panels could wait. Glit was still getting the supplies. It would be fine. He scratched his newly exposed plating.
Finally, Glit finished bringing the supplies over. He turned toward Starscream, the end of an intralineal dangling from his mouth, and pinned his audials.
"I told you to open those," he said.
"Y-yes," Starscream said. "I wanted to wait."
Glit's optics narrowed, but he didn't say anything. Starscream opened his panels. Glit activated his overrides before attaching one intralineal to each intake.
"This one will take the dark energeon out," he said, motioning to one of the intralineals. Then, he motioned to the other. "This one will put clean energeon in. I'm going to turn them on. Let me know if you experience any burning sensations, or if you receive any alerts."
Starscream nodded. Glit turned on the machines. One bag drained as the other filled. With each passing moment, the itch lessened, but it didn't quite go away. With a twitching tail, Glit checked something on the machines before turning back toward Starscream.
"Please forgive me," Glit said. "But I've noticed signs of malnutrition on your frame. Are you getting enough energeon?"
This again. Starscream sighed.
"Fuel processing issue," he said. "Nothing to be done about it."
A loud splash sounded as Rattrap, still in retrorat form, leaped out of the container and ran out of the room. Glit's audials swiveled toward the noise. He flicked his tail and tutted.
"There are always things to be done," Glit said.
The conversation went exactly as Starscream expected. Glit asked all of the questions every other medic asked. He answered them all the same.
"Well, you're right," Glit said with a sigh. "There isn't much we can do now. But if you stayed with us—"
Starscream kicked the berth with the back of his pede. "No. I can't leave."
"It's a matter of health," Glit said. "Treating conditions like yours, especially when left for so long, requires careful management. Please."
"I have a mission," Starscream said. "I have to see it through."
Glit shook his helm. "You don't have to. This is going to kill you."
"But I do."
He wasn't quite confident he could be killed, anyway. That was what his plan relied on. There was a reason his spark kept turning despite everything.
Glit growled quietly. He paced in a circle, tail lashing.
"I didn't want to bring this up," he said. "But I saw your panel and cable."
Starscream claws curled, digging into the berth. He grit his dentae. Why didn't he realize Glit noticed? Stupid.
"It's clear that someone is hurting you," Glit said. "You're not safe, wherever you are. You're sick and injured. Do you understand why I'm concerned?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"You don't know my situation," Starscream hissed.
"I don't," Glit said. "But what I've seen paints a picture I don't like."
"You don't know anything—"
Starscream cut himself off as Rattrap scampered back into the room, energeon splattered all over his plating. He held a retrorat in his mouth, dragging on the floor with an unpleasant screech it as he approached them. Just before he reached them, he transformed in a blur of plating.
The retrorat in his mouth was quickly moved to his hands. In robot form, he was barely taller than Starscream. He stood on spindly limbs, more mesh than plating. He held the retrorat out to Starscream.
"Here," he said.
Starscream had no idea what to think. Should he refuse? Why was this even being offered in the first place? Slowly and reluctantly, he took the retrorat's frame from Rattrap's hands.
Glit let out an irritated growl. "Rattrap—"
Starscream hadn't had anything except energeon since coming to this universe. Though fresh fuel was being pumped onto his lines as the dark energeon was drained, his fuel tank was still empty. Glit and Rattrap were still glaring at each other. What was the harm?
Starscream pried a scute of plating from the retrorat and bit it. As he relished the sensation of grinding his meal beneath his teeth, Rattrap turned toward him, a grin spreading across his face. Glit's optics widened.
"You're like me!" Rattrap said.
Glit huffed. "He's a Seeker, Rattrap. That isn't possible."
Rattrap scowled at Glit before turning to Starscream.
"Ya older than Primus, by any chance?" He asked.
Starscream froze mid-bite. Older than Primus? He had to be joking. Starscream swallowed his bite as he ruffled his plating.
"There isn't such a thing," he said.
Rattrap snorted. "That's what ya think, but it ain't true. I watched Primus ascend with my own optics, and I'll still be kickin' long after its frame rots away. You ever heard of the Maximals?"
Starscream scrunched his olfactory ridge. "Maximals?"
Glit sighed, muttering something as he turned away from the group. Rattrap's plating flared.
"Well," he said, voice sharp. "Everyone's heard of the Predacons, haven't they?"
"Yes," Starscream said.
The Predacons were ancient beasts. They were massive and insatiable, driven to kill and consume everything around them. Many species on ancient Cybertron went extinct because of them. Cybertronians themselves were nearly hunted to extinction. But then, they vanished. No experts could agree on why.
Rattrap grinned. "We Maximals destroyed 'em. It took lifetimes of war, but we got 'em. Your entire species has us to thank."
"Species?" The word rolled out of Starscream's vocalizer before he had the chance to think. Cybertronians were the only sapient species on Cybertron. Rattrap spoke like he wasn't one.
"Where d'ya think cybertronians came from? Or mechanimals? Or Primus?" Rattrap said.
"Cybertronians are born from Primus, the core of Cybertron," Starscream said. "No one knows where Primus came from. Except you, apparently."
Rattrap snapped his fingers. "'Zactly, though that's not quite what I'm gettin' at. Primus isn't just Cybertron's core, it is Cybertron. It used to be tiny, just like you. Then it got bigger n' bigger, and one day it crawled into the planet and never came out. Everything on the surface started disappearin', til it was just metals and dirt. It ate everythin' from the inside, then you guys started showin' up everywhere."
Starscream wasn't a religious mech. He wasn't. But it lined up with what little he learned from early scriptures. His spark sank as he remembered why he knew about these things, of Sunstorm's frame sparkling with excitement as he explained yet another legend he got ahold of. He pushed that away to focus on the facts.
In the supposed early days of Cybertron, when the first mecha set foot on the planet, it was raw and empty, only endless dirt and savage mechanimals that did nothing but kill and eat. One of the original cybertronians—a large flightframe whose specific alt mode depended on who was telling the story—took to the sky and visited other worlds. They brought the first plants back with them, astonished by their beauty, and the plants soon filled the world.
"What are you?" Starscream asked.
"I told ya," Rattrap said. "A Maximal. But what are you?"
A beast. A monster. A rabid turbofox. Something beautiful to break. A Commander of the New Decepticons. A creator who abandoned his creation. The list went on.
But most of all, he was Starscream.
"I told you I ran into the CRI before, but it wasn't you," Starscream said. "I'm from another world, and in that world, the CRI figured out how to modify our fuel processing systems so we could survive on things other than energeon."
Rattrap and Glit exchanged glances. Glit turned back to Starscream, a frown on his face. Somehow, Rattrap grinned wider.
"If you ain't lyin', that opens a lot of doors," he said. "And who would lie about somethin' as crazy as that?"
A realization struck Starscream. He, and others, had assumed the CRI reverse engineered the surgery from mechanimals. But what if they hadn't? What if the CRI of his world had encountered a Maximal? It wasn't a stretch.
He stared between Glit and Rattrap as another thought floated into his mind. These two were neutrals who valued the preservation of life above all else. He had an opportunity here.
"I need your help," Starscream said.
Glit's audials perked.
"Come with me," Starscream said. "I have a plan to take Galvatron down and end the war. It's the only way I can go home. But the Decepticons don't have any medics. The Autobots do."
Glit's gaze softened. His brows drew together. Rattrap glanced at him, a frown on his face.
"I can't," Glit said. "But that explains a lot."
Starscream dug his claws into the berth. "Why not?"
"If I ally with the Decepticons, I cannot treat Autobots," Glit said. "Hurt isn't bound by faction. Healing shouldn't be, either."
It was true. If Glit stayed with the Decepticons, he would be forced to stay at the base. Galvatron wouldn't take kindly to any aid given to enemies. Truthfully, he may not even tolerate Aid given to allies. Galvatron's words came back to him: 'Soldiers that can't defend themselves on the battlefield deserve to die.'
Was that why Galvatron had singled out Ratchet and Pharma? Did he want to take the medics from both sides to ensure no 'weak' Soldiers could survive?
"I understand," Starscream said.
But there had to be something he could do. Slipstream wasn't the first mech to be in this position, nor would she be the last. This wasn't even the first time she had been too injured to return by herself. The Decepticons needed a medic.
He had an idea—one that would keep both Glit and his mecha safe.
"Can I tell my mecha about you?" Starscream asked. "I'll make them swear to keep it secret. But this way, they'll know where to go when they need aid, and you won't be forced to choose a faction."
Glit dipped his head. "You may."
☆☆☆
Starscream was called into the room when they finished surgery, as promised. Slipstream hadn't even woken up when he was allowed in. So, he sat beside the berth. When he requested a chair, Glit didn't hesitate. After so long being glared at, it was nice to be around mecha who didn't have a second thought about accommodating his condition.
Slipstream stirred, her optics flickering. They opened, unfocused and fuzzy. Glit warned him about that. Whatever they used to keep her under would take some time to subside. Starscream didn't remember having to wait after his surgeries, but most of those happened in the middle of war, and many of them involved helm trauma of some sort.
"Sss… Starscream?" Slipstream muttered.
"Yes," Starscream said.
Slipstream pushed herself up from the berth on unsteady limbs. Her optics searched the room, narrowing as they returned to him.
"Where are—"
Her limbs gave out beneath her. She crashed to the berth with a hiss. After a moment, she pushed herself onto her elbows, glaring at the berth as if it had personally offended her.
"A neutral mech found us on the battlefield and took us back to treat us," Starscream said. "We're at his base."
"Didn't know those were still a thing," Slipstream said, her words coated in static.
She swayed slightly. Memory files of engex and high grade drunk mecha came to mind. She attempted to push herself up again only to flop to the side with a frustrated hiss. Her wings twitched.
"There are plenty of surprises in this world," Starscream said. He reached forward to steady her as she attempted to sit up again, but withdrew as he remembered her reaction to touch earlier. "You should wait a bit longer to sit. Whatever they used on you was strong."
"I'll sit when I like," Slipstream grumbled, trying and failing to sit up again. This time, Starscream reached for her.
She snatched his hand and pulled him forward. He staggered out of his chair. Then, with a yank that seemed impossibly strong with how intensely the drugs had affected her, Starscream fell into the berth.
Starscream bared his teeth. "Slipstream—!"
A sound gave him pause. His plating vibrated as Slipstream's engine purred. Arms wrapped around him. Was she… cuddling him?
"Slipstream," he said, gently pushing away.
Her wings lowered. The purring quieted.
"I don't know," she said, voice weak and staticy. "I feel like I'm floating away. I don't like it."
She closed her optics. Her wings drooped to their lowest position.
"Nobody likes me. Not even Acid Storm or Ion Storm. That's why I hurt them. So they'll listen to me. But you seem like you care. I thought maybe I could have something good for once. Was I wrong? Do you not…?"
The mech before him wasn't Slipstream, Air Commander of the Decepticons and Winglord of the Seekers. This was Slipstream, the Seeker Drone that was left alone outside, manipulated and abused by her superior, and abandoned by her allies. All but one.
Starscream closed the gap between them. Gently, he rested a hand on her pauldron. She opened her optics.
"I do," Starscream said.
Clumsily, she launched herself at him, claws raking down his plating as she scrambled for purchase. Starscream took her arms in his hands. He lowered himself onto the berth. The moment he sat, she practically scrambled into his lap.
"Please don't leave me," she said. "Everybody hates me and they always leave."
Starscream glided a hand along her wing, mimicking a motion that was used on him many times.
"I won't," he said.
He held her until the fuzz retreated from her optics. It happened slowly, her frame going from relaxed in his hold to tense. She pushed away, wings set wide, and stared at him. Her optics widened, and she shuffled backward.
Straight off the berth.
She fell with a clang, hissing as she landed on her side. Starscream bent down to offer her a hand, but she swatted it away. Starscream sighed, but it wasn't exasperation that warmed his spark. She was back. Whatever effect that medicine had was gone, now.
"You will tell no one of this," she hissed, flaring her wings. "Or I'll—"
"I won't tell anyone," Starscream said.
She narrowed her optics. "Why? What do you want?"
There was the cobalt spinehog again, back turned to show off its spines. This wasn't stubbornness or defiance, this was a defense mechanism—an achingly familiar one. Starscream wasn't a threat, and he had to convince her of that.
"Why would I want anything?" Starscream asked. "You're already working with me. Attempting to blackmail or humiliate you would hinder my plans."
Her wings shifted closer to neutral position. It was working.
Starscream continued, "You're one of my few allies among this world's Decepticons. And I've been in your position before. I know how it feels, but I also know how to help."
He stepped down from the berth. Slipstream didn't back away.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "I'm not going to leave you, and I don't hate you."
Slipstream closed her optics. Silence lingered.
"Okay," she said, running her hands down her arms. "Okay."
Starscream didn't know what to do, contrary to what he said. But so far, doing what he wished someone did for him seemed to work. He backed away and sat on the berth, motioning to the space next to himself.
"Let's sit for a while," he said. "We need to fly back, but we can't do that until the sedatives are fully out of your system."
Slipstream sat beside him, leaving a small distance between them. But over the course of a few moments, the gap was closed. Something pressed lightly into his shoulder, and something else brushed against his back. He leaned his helm on the top of Slipstream's, purring his engine quietly as their wings intertwined.
Maybe they could both have something good for once.
☆☆☆
But it wasn't to last. They said their goodbyes to Glit and took off. When they were nearly there, a thought struck Starscream, cold claws seizing his spark. He dropped some altitude in his shock, which didn't go unnoticed.
[What was that?] Slipstream sent.
[Just… thinking,] Starscream replied.
When they got back, Galvatron would be there. He was probably waiting for them. The moment he asked for Starscream's cable, it was over. He would know where Glit was, and he would have him captured, or worse.
[How good are you with locations?] Starscream sent Slipstream.
The response took a moment to arrive.
[Good enough.]
That wasn't an answer.
[Do you have the coordinates of Glit's base in your files?]
[Um…]
So, she didn't. Damn it.
[I'm going to send them to you.]
[Sure…]
Starscream sent the coordinates. They flew in silence for a while, eventually touching down near the base. Slipstream hesitated, glancing at him.
"What is it?" Starscream asked.
"What's with the coordinates?" She asked. "I understand why you would give them to me, but the way you asked…"
Starscream dug his claws into his arm guards.
"Galvatron…." He grit his dentae. "Galvatron hacked me. I don't know what he looked at when he did, but I know he can do it again. I have to purge the coordinates from my memory."
Anything he kept about the Autobot base was hidden in a junk folder, heavily encrypted, or both. For Galvatron to have discovered it, he probably combed through Starscream's entire processor, and cracked every file he could. Storing anything he didn't want Galvatron to access was impossible. He knew that now.
"Okay," Slipstream said.
They headed up toward the base, the forest surrounding them eerily silent. Before they reached the entrance, Slipstream paused, hands hovering over the keypad. She turned back toward Starscream.
"If there's anything else you need to store, let me know," Slipstream said. "We're…"
She stammered, struggling for a word.
"Allies?" Starscream suggested.
"Yes," she said. "Allies."
The first thing they did was report to Galvatron. He stared down at them, optics narrowed, as his grip tightened on the armrests of his throne. He dismissed Slipstream with gritted dentae. Starscream's chestplates tightened as he was yet again alone with the dictator.
Galvatron leaned forward, a smile creeping onto his face. "How are you feeling, Starscream?"
"I feel fine, sir," Starscream said, closing his optics.
Galvatron frowned. "Do you?"
"Right now, yes," Starscream said. He flexed his claws. In. Out.
Galvatron leaned back, bringing a hand to his chin.
"Just fine?" He said. "I was certain the dark energeon would benefit you as it has me. But if you aren't feeling the effects, I suppose I'll have to give you more."
A shudder crept down Starscream's dorsal strut. He fought not to flinch.
"I-it's alright, sir!" He said, voice coming out in a strained squeak. "I don't need any more."
Galvatron hummed.
"I'll be the one to decide that."