PREDATORY (Megatron x Starscream)

Chapter 7

Shockwave looked pale.

It wasn't like the color of his armor could change, but something about him seemed drained. The light from his optic leaked its typical scarlet hue and exuded a sick, pallid aura. The way his shoulders hunched forward shrouded the latter half of his torso in shadow, which may have added to the unusual feeling. Disregarding particulars, that was the first impression Starscream got when she saw him. He was pale.

Soundwave was next to him. There was nothing out of the ordinary about his featureless screen. But Switchblade, who loomed characteristically on Shockwave's opposite end and stole shrewd glances at the wall, suggested a wealth of unaddressed disease. Starscream had a premonition, but nobody had given her so much as a stern breath, so she could continue to mask the pit of fear that hollowed her chassis. Her wings twitched wantonly, but nobody seemed to notice.

"My liege," Switchblade finally managed to speak, addressing her. She turned her helm quickly and appointed it to him, but he did not return her gaze. This made her face flush with anxiety. "Forgive us for disturbing you, but we have some... ah..."

Shockwave finally got his bearings enough to interrupt. "There's been a bit of an error." He even sounded pale, as if something had sucked the timbre and tonality out of his speech. It edged on a hoarse whisper.

Starscream didn't like the serious looks on their faces, but in her studious assessment of their demeanor, she'd noticed something unusual. They seemed... frightened. Of her? Instead of being accusatory like she'd expected, they were timid and shy, dodging around her pointed stare like it could spear them through their optics if they dared meet. Was it possible that they were afraid... of her?

An icy shot of courage washed across her spark. "What do you mean? Spit it out." Her optic ridges furrowed. She tried to hide it, but the way they flinched made her want to do a happy little dance.

"It's about the Predacons." They looked like they were about to collapse.

"What about them?"

"I don't know how it happened."

A spew of explanations suddenly purged the Cyclops mech's angular chest. They exited his lips one after the other and blended together with odd strings of gibberish, decorating her like a sash of pristine, fanciful word vomit.

"Surely, it seemed impossible."

"I had every last variable accounted for, all carefully controlled..."

"But somewhere along the line, my diligence must have faltered..."

"I can't say when or how—it's still a shock to me."

"I lost my wits somewhere..."

"I didn't account for enough possibility, and presumed too much of myself..."

"And now, it seems the inevitable has happened..."

"Against all odds, I must have been so careless, and now it seems that—"

Switchblade was unable to live with his silence any longer, so he let out the breath he was holding, gasping so furiously that Starscream couldn't help but turn her focus to him. "Megatronus has escaped!" He belted out his peace from the depths of his quivering spark, as if he expected it to be seized by fits of anguish and suddenly die at any moment: that triplet of words, related with all the emotion of a dying breath, was the result of his supernova's last desperate scream into the infinite universe. Shockwave seemed in sync with the cosmic weight of Switchblade's confession, because he dithered and went silent.

Starscream, of course, was not surprised, and she didn't see any need to pretend to be. By holding a stern and leadenly face, she could compensate for the seismic relief and triumph that overflowed her banks. Those dull, dry, ostentatious idiots! They were so concerned about their own reputations, the insolubility of their papery plans, that they didn't suspect a thing! Though she sustained her farcical sneer, she couldn't help but cast a shadow of smugness onto what she said next: