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“And here’s the data sheet,” Smokescreen pinged over a packet with the information Trailbreaker needed, before heading off with a wave. “Good luck! He might be restrained but he’s still a mouthy ‘Con,” Smokescreen headed away from the brig whistling.
Trailbreaker didn’t recognize the song, and shrugged when Smokescreen rounded the corner and disappeared, looking at the seeker behind bars. Prowl had found a pair of wing cuffs that kept him from transforming and flying off, or plain flying off since the additional weight was prohibitive. Otherwise Starscream had free reign of his cell. Breaker made sure to keep his distance from the bars, found the stool Smokescreen had been using and sat down. It was best to conserve his energy for observation of the prisoner.
Starscream wasted no time once he realized there was a new mech watching him.
“Hey. You’re that Trails mech right? Trail-something. Trailsmasher? Trailcutter? Trailcomber?”
He couldn’t help the face he made at the seeker, even if it gave away that Starscream was wrong. It was more surprising to Breaker that Starscream remembered he existed, much less half his designation. “Do you need something?” Trailbreaker kept it professional, trying not to interact more with the prisoner than necessary.
“Yeah, I do,” Starscream huffed. “My wings ache. These wing cuffs are impossible, and they make my spinal struts hurt. It’s not like there’s anywhere I could go anyways, we’re in the middle of a ship embedded in the side of a mountain. Come on, I’ll still be behind bars, but able to stretch my wings.”
Shaking his head, Trailbreaker kept reading over the data sheet. “Ratchet was here before Smokescreen’s shift and checked your vitals. Everything is normal, indicating no significant pain restricting your systems.”
The flier made a face at the data and huffed again. “Then I’m hungry.”
Checking again, Trailbreaker hummed. “I can call for a cube halfway through my shift. It shows here that Silverbolt brought you one during his shift, and you were well fueled when Ratchet checked you. Honestly, it all reads pretty well. It sounds like you might be bored though,” Trailbreaker offered, putting hand to his chin as he considered solutions to the problem. “Would you like to play a word game?”
“No,” the seeker snapped. “I want to get out of here! Tell me, what are the Autobots demanding for me? No, never mind, that isn’t important - tell me what is taking Megatron so long to get whatever you Autobots are demanding for me, in exchange for my freedom?” The seeker moved closer to the bars, looking out at Trailbreaker and over the brig, which was bare except the cells and the stool. “This place is so closed off, so claustrophobic. Surely Megatron knows that,” Starscream mumbled.
“Uh. Well,” Breaker paused to reset his vocalizer, thumbs pressing against each other as he avoided optic contact with the seeker. “We actually haven’t heard back from Megatron on any agreements or offers to release you,” Trailbreaker stated. “Optimus has sent a few messages, but we don’t know if they aren’t being received, or,” his shoulders rolled slightly.
Starscream stared at the SUV before wincing, and Trailbreaker noticed he’d tried flaring his wings. Not the wisest choice in those cuffs. “Soundwave,” the seeker hissed. “He’s blocking the messages, you know. Your prime should just demand a face to face meeting and bring me up there,” Starscream huffed, holding his head high as he crossed his arms.
It’d been weeks, converted to local time, since the seeker had been captured in battle, patched up, and imprisoned. Trailbreaker felt bad for him: the off-roader understood what it was like to miss the outdoors. It must have been the same for Starscream and the wide open sky. “Well. What, happens if Optimus does that and Megatron refuses to parley?”
Staring from behind the bars, Starscream tilted his head. “What are you implying, ground-pounder?”
“Unnecessary name calling,” Trailbreaker pointed out evenly, as if it would make the seeker behave. “I mean, let’s say that Optimus does what you’re suggesting, and he meets Megatron, and Megatron decides that there aren’t acceptable terms for your return? Is there some - reward Optimus can suggest, or some - I don’t know, something Optimus can use to make Megatron want your return?”
That seemed to get some traction in the seeker’s processor, his optics blanking as he stares out of the bars. Starscream stepped back from the bars and sank down to the floor, legs folded up as his arms wrapped around his knees. “If Megatron doesn’t…why wouldn’t Megatron…?” His intakes rattled and Breaker’s optics widened behind his visor. “Megatron needs me! I am his air commander and second in command!” Okay the second point was arguable, but the first was true. “You stupid Autobot,” the flier hissed from his seated position. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Trailbreaker had seen for himself a few of the instances where Starscream tried to usurp Megatron’s command in the field, sometimes in the middle of battle. It wasn’t for him to say. In fact Optimus would tell him not to get involved in the Decepticons’ domestic squabbles, but it seemed a good opportunity to leave Starscream out of the loop. Maybe see if the Decepticons could function any better without him. It would have been Trailbreaker’s first thought.
Eventually the seeker’s posture relaxed and he frowned, scooting closer to the bars. “I hate word games. Do you have any holographic card games?” It was a good suggestion. It kept Trailbreaker away from the bars and they could both play. “I’ll see if Cliffjumper can bring down one of the card units,” he agreed, sending a comm to the red mini. Looking back at Starscream, Trailbreaker realized he felt bad for the mech in front of him. Either he’d eventually break free, Optimus would set him loose, or he’d be a prisoner until the Decepticons mounted an attack for another reason and Starscream broke loose in the resulting chaos.
It didn’t excuse Starscream’s behavior, but Breaker pitied the seeker. “So, Vossian three-card shuffle?”
“Would you think to play anything else with me?” Starscream smirked, his facade pulled back up. Starscream wasn’t okay, but he was as stable as any of them could be.