Solace

Coping Mechanisms

Oftentimes, Starscream felt like he had spent his entire existence running. Running from guilt, from blame, from his roots, or running from his weakness, Starscream was always running.

Things could be much worse, he always reasoned. Sure, he had begun running from his problems at the start of his existence, but things weren't that bad. Sure, he had a knack for pushing people away and gaining the attention of the wrong mechs altogether, but it wasn't that bad. And yes, he often tended to cope with problems by not coping at all, but in the end, he always had everything under control...

Until he didn't.

Starscream may have been one of the best fliers on the face of Cybertron, but even he couldn't outrun his problems. He may have gotten into one of the most accredited schools of science by fudging up the roots of his creation, but even this came back to bite him in the aft sooner or later. And of course, while the universe was still out to get him, he may have lost his conjux to the very same slagging planet that he now inhabited, but it was fine. Starscream was fine. He got over it.

The seeker had successfully—and unsuccessfully—faced many problems in his lifetime and knew there were many more to come. Ironically, he still hadn't learned that running from his problems was never the right solution. Even now, as the Autobot medic came into the room to deliver news Starscream wished he would never hear, Starscream did what anyone else would've done.

He attempted to run from the problem at hand.

Starscream watched with growing fear as Ratchet searched the room for his cuffs. Aside from a few huffs and grumbled answers he couldn't even understand, the only information Starscream had gotten from the Autobot was that someone somewhere wanted to speak to him, urgently. Watching the grouchy medic wander around the room at such a slow pace made Starscream miss his home on the Nemesis more and more. Megatron may be a pain in the aft, but nothing could replace his gossip sessions with Knock Out as the vain doctor pored over Starscream's paint job.

Before Starscream could ask Ratchet what was taking so long, he was interrupted by the telltale sign of giggling children. He curled himself up tighter on the medical berth, hoping that someone would distract the flesh creatures long enough for him to escape without their dozens of questions. However, it seemed that the Autobot team and their painfully kind leader Optimus had other plans in mind.

Like clockwork, the tiny trio of fleshies crept into the room as Ratchet prepared him for transport. Starscream let his helm flop back against the berth with a soft clang. Asking for a moment of peace was asking too much, he supposed. Though to be fair, Starscream did have it coming. He was an enemy trapped in their base, a liability to their team, and worst of all, he was himself. He was Starscream; pretty much everyone hated him (except for Skyfire, Knock Out, and Thundercracker—oh boy, he was getting ahead of himself). But even his treacherous deeds didn't seem worthy enough to warrant the torment of nosy earthling creatures getting up in his business.

"Alright now, up off of the berth," Ratchet announced just as the female fleshbag opened her mouth.

After latching Starscream's servos into cuffs, Ratchet stepped back and gestured for him to follow. Starscream pushed himself off of the medical table, rolling his optics at the way Ratchet tracked his every move. Really, what did he expect Starscream to do when his servos were locked in cuffs? Starscream was quite literally trapped in a base swarming with Autobot scum. He may be strong, but there was no way he could beat an entire army of bots on his own.

"Can't you make them go away?" Starscream groaned, pointing with both servos at the group of children standing nearby. "They're... disturbing."

Ratchet scoffed, nodding his helm towards the door. "Ignore them. Optimus is waiting for you."