Inevitable (Megatron x FEM/OC)

Chapter 33 - Judas

Primus everything hurt. Primus... Damn it all to the pits. Damn that tyrant to the pits!

Starscream was worse for wear and that was putting it lightly. The pain was immeasurable. Partially blinded, all his systems were sent spiraling trying to do damage control. Petrolex mixed with what was already scarce energon as he leaked.

The seeker cradled his wounds once he landed. 'Controlled crash' was most likely a better way to put it in all actuality. There was no 'landing' to be had. 

Bitterness was hasty to set in and clouded away some of the agony, to which he was thankful.

Lauren. The name was absolutely vile on his glossa. No, 'human' was the correct word he was looking for. The pathetic insect was not deserving of a designation in any capacity.

'Conjunx ' almost made him choke back bile. What a disgusting term. Megatron had truly fallen from the throne he once ruled. Such a pitiful, wretched situation he was in. The most of the whole of the jet was ashamed to be dignified by such a lack luster title; decepticon. The decepticons he came to know and flourish in were nye, long gone, and lost to oblivion. Extinction would be soon to follow at any rate. 

A wet cough interrupted the seeker's thoughts as he staggered to steady himself once more atop the looming ship's tarmac. The harsh winds some hundreds of feet from the earth's crust were wracking his damaged body and stealing his balance.

Primus, he looked pathetic and felt it even more so. A ball of ugly embarrassment plagued his systems as he felt his arm curl into his chassis.

He was Starscream for fuck sake! The once second in command of the entire decepticon faction! A terror among the skies and for what? To be beaten like some lowly autobot before the very decepticons he use to stand above?

Lauren. The human's name jumped out at him once more and he hissed wetly. The cretin did not deserve to draw in oxygen. Bloodlust was subtle to mix with his bitterness as he promised himself vengeance in any like of the word.

Vengeance is what brought him to his current location. Another bout of wind rolled over him haphazardly, but he stood.

His single operating optic studied the ship's overall architecture and the sparkless droids that patrolled around mindlessly. A snarl clawed its way onto his lip plates as the sound of steadily encroaching footfall made him halt.

Lockdown emerged from the coverage of damp clouds, several smaller subordinates tailed him closely, their loyalty was apparent and unwavering. A single red optic flicked between the bounty hunter and the followers.

The emerald optic mech scowled at the scene that was Starscream. So broken, so battered, tossed out like the filth that Cybertronians were. "If you have come for mercy, I will not assure you any peace. I do not take in lost kittens."

The Quintessan's words struck the seeker and he hissed through clenched denta. "I do not seek a mercy offline." A dry, humorless chuckle pulled from his vocal processor.

Lockdown's metal features pulled to deepen his frown. "You Cybertronians are always fighting." The statement was hurled as an insult. "None of you will stand while divided. Such children. I do not babysit. Leave."

"Do not be too hasty." The seeker retorted followed by a rough cough. "Information fetches a high price." And Starscream was rich.

The tall silvery mech stalked to and from, emerald optics trained on the smaller decepticon for any hints of maliciousness. He'd strike him down in an instant. "You dare to defy your master? How fickle." Cybertronians. It was a disgusting word for a pitiful, dying race.