Chapter Text
Starscream’s first gaze upon Iacon City after fifty cycles was nothing more than a fleeting glimpse of gold. When he was first banished, he couldn’t keep his processor from wandering to the future, when, or if, the High Guard returned from the surface of Cybertron. Would it have changed drastically? If it did, would it be because of Sentinel? Would the traitor have ridden the city from the last remnants of its golden age because it reminded him of the Thirteen he overthrew? Or would the towers still glimmer in the artificial light, and would the roads still sweep between the architecture, roads he’d follow but never set himself on to travel?
Sentinel had changed, but not much. He was taller, wider in stature, polished almost as bright as the Thirteen’s meeting hall, where he had been brought with fragmented pieces of the High Guard. And two of the new bots, D-16 and B-127.
He couldn’t truly process that he was home, at last, after waiting so long to return. No, his spark was smothered in anger, at everything, at every bot around him. He had been brought to his knees by the soldiers that dragged him to the tower. Sentinel walked among the ranks, righteously and mockingly grinning as he spoke. Starscream was going to wipe it off of his faceplate there and then. He was going to stand against him, just like he did those fifty cycles ago, when the blue and gold bot’s real plan was discovered.
D-16 stood first.
Starscream watched the newly-cogged mech push himself up, orange optics staring down the traitor grimly, not once betraying any fear or trepidation.
This is why those fools cheered for him, isn’t it?
When Starscream dubbed himself the “leader” that the High Guard could take orders from when they were banished, he did so because he was one of the only ones with leading experience. His Seeker armada was one of the Thirteen’s most adept groups. And after such a horrible defeat, the High Guard needed someone who knew how to lead fractured troops, knew how to rally them, knew how to push them.
Yet this young, hard-helmed mech was able to command his fellow members without any previous experience. Would D-16 be the one they’d remember, and not him?
Starscream did not expect the silver mech to show such displays of brutality later into the fight. Though the shot Orion Pax took wasn’t meant for him, it was still a fatal blow. And he ripped Sentinel in two with his bare servos, like the savage mechs of older years that gladiators idolized. That was what, in that small moment, made him bellow the bot’s decree along with everyone else. He had already been on the receiving end of his anger, and he was already fairly damaged, especially his voice box.
“Rise up! Rise up!”
That was what his goal was all along. Those fifty cycles of scavenging, waiting, hijacking shipments, repairing injuries just to reopen the same wounds in the next scrimmage. All of it boiled down to this fight.
And then, as soon as it began, it was over. The fighting ceased. All three of the commanders were equally confused, so they soared back to the central fountain of the plaza and found Orion (no, some other bot entirely) standing with his three friends, his arm somehow fully repaired. They aim their weapons at the three, ready to defend the newly named Megatron, ready for their victory.
Victory did not come in winning the fight. Victory came in an unexpected turn of events, where Megatron had switched sides once again, his anger subdued and calmed, no doubt by his friend. Orion Pax had returned by Primus’ will; the Matrix sat inside his chassis. He was a Prime, and that Prime’s first order was un-banishing the entire High Guard.
Their talk of reunification didn’t convince him, but the promise of Starscream’s old position and then some was what made him pledge allegiance. Respect would come later, if it came at all.
—
Optimus’ promise of authority did not disappoint Starscream. His previous position of High Guard Commander was given back to him in full; his armada was under his command, patrolling the Iacon skies and streets, acting as the Prime’s audials and optics to what was going on in the city. Not only that, but he, along with Shockwave and Soundwave, were on the Primes’ council. They slowly but steadily undid all of Sentinel’s corruption. They relocated all of the mining bots, closed off the energon mines, cleaned up the mess in Iacon Tower and the plaza below from their large battle, and started to reshape the city into something more recognizable to the previously banished group.
Starscream was somewhat enjoying the process. He reveled in the fanfare from the citizens, some who knew him from before and some being introduced to him for the first time. It felt good to undo all of the false Prime’s orders, freeing the once cogless mining bots from their horribly cramped underground lives. They mingled with the rest of the city, helped rebuild. It was good to have such a large say in these efforts; he was equal to Optimus, in some sense. The new Prime took everyone’s opinion into account; he was new to leading, untouched by corrupt government ideals Starscream had seen so much of in the past. Though he didn’t have full command, he was complacent in his role. How long would he be, that was a question for another solar cycle.
But all too soon after their rebuilding efforts were complete, reality came back harshly to remind him of all that had troubled him before his banishment. There were things he left behind in Iacon, things he hadn’t given thought to much during his time on the surface. Survival was first, always. Now, he had an entire city to look after, of bots who saw him as a new idol and some that knew of his brash nature as a Seeker.
That hasn’t changed, he’d admit only to himself. During their most recent meeting, the council began to discuss enacting a large protective force for the city. Starscream pitched the idea of adding more High Guard members to their ranks as well. They suffered along with the Thirteen, lost allies to the Quintessons. But, of course, Megatron wouldn’t let him have a calm discussion. He probed him and his fellow Commanders with harsh, truth-seeking words. Why did they never return to Iacon?
“He knows nothing or what we had to go through,” the Seeker hisses to himself, before his temper flares up enough to make him speak out. He said his truth like the silver mech had. It was his truth as well to call the newcomers sparklings as well.
Brash he was indeed.
No physical fight broke out after that, though Starscream wouldn’t have minded tussling with Megatron once more, just to let out some more of his anger that he couldn’t expend during their last fight. The silver mech startled the others with his bold acceptance of the challenge, saying he’d break his voice box again. It didn’t faze the Seeker. On the outside, at least. His apology was half-hearted, unfazed and not once betraying his inner frustration. How quick he was to accept this position, thinking this would be his big break, that all of the trouble he dealt with in old Iacon would leave him be.
More trouble followed him after the meeting, when the yellow mech called B-127 (a bumbling, peppy bot that in any other circumstance would have never been on a Prime’s council) came bounding up to the three Commanders after he helped his friend Elita-1 file data work. He began to talk, as curious as an actual sparkling and loud like one as well, questions forming from Starscream’s previous claims from the meeting, that they left friends behind in Iacon when they were banished.
“Who are they? Have you contacted any of them? Maybe one of us has seen them or talked to them and didn’t know you knew them.”
Soundwave and Shockwave, the sentimental idiots, humored the little bot by telling him stories of some of their friends, like they were old seniors reminiscing. And if it couldn’t get any more irritating, Skywarp and Thundercracker, fresh off of patrol with Rumble and Frenzy, joined in as well, acting like their old comrades weren’t around in some part of the city to tell the stories themselves.
All of this talk about the past frustrated Starscream more than he cared to admit. His stern facade was only external, his words only laden with fake venom; his processor reeled as he unwillingly let his processor wander to fifty cycles ago. When he first met Soundwave and Shockwave. When Skywarp, Thundercracker, and he became an official Seeker Trine. When he was in Academy and met Knockout, and later Breakdown. And…
“You know who’s fast? We haven’t even talked about him! Skyfire!”
Him.
Starscream bristled upon hearing the name. He felt his cables go rigid, and for a moment he forgot to ex-vent.
“Of course they had to mention him. Primus, why do I have to stand here and listen to this?”
“Who’s that? He sounds cool,” B’s question is directed to the entire group (the other three had joined in to listen).
His Trine members were already whispering to the yellow bot, sharing much more than the Commander wished. He doesn’t even have to tell himself to move, hand flying for the back of Skywarp’s helm. The smack barely hurts, just enough to get him to stop, and he does.
That just directs B’s attention directly to him.
“Was Skyfire a racer?”
Starscream wanted to leave this conversation. He didn’t want to talk about the past anymore, so he was prepared to shoot down the question, and any more that followed.
But he hadn’t heard that name in cycles, had barely given a thought to his old…whatever he was now. Still his friend? Not after their last meeting, but nevertheless…
The words fell from his glossa somewhat eagerly. He didn’t want it to be so, however, it was. Some part of him long buried had been given vigor again, and though he reigned himself back a considerable amount, he shared a fragment of Skyfire’s story he had known for the longest time.
He wasn’t expecting everyone to listen to him speak so closely. They were intrigued, and Starscream could guess why. He always talked about Skyfire differently, even now.
He had no idea where he was, if he was still in Iacon at all. B-127 asked if he was a racer; he wanted to be. It was another dream of his, along with leading an expedition to the surface once he graduated from the Academy as a scientist.
Shockwave shared the news about Iacon’s Academy then, having learned that it has been shut down two cycles after the Thirteen’s deaths. He theorized that his science career could have ended then.
The longer they spoke, the more B’s expression turned distant, as if he was thinking. His optics cycled in and out, and his right pede was tapping quickly against the gold floor.
“Wait, wait…I met a huge group of racers, before we started to rebuild. Sunstreaker and Mirage said he raced with them in the last Iacon 5000. That must be him!”
Starscream could feel his own optics widening slightly. He averts his gaze to the curtained wall. He could feel that old tinge of hope tug at his spark. If what the yellow bot said was true, then the mech was still in Iacon, having survived Sentinel’s onslaught of corruption, saved himself from fading into memory.
He could see him again. Talk to him again.
But doubt came creeping in. Everything wrong he said in the past convinced him in only a couple of clicks that a meeting with Skyfire would not go well. For him most of all. Despite being a leader ready for confrontations, he never wanted to address much outside of the battlefield.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to speak to him.”
He puts a dark scowl on his face as he responds, thundering past the group, not even bothering to hide his disdain. Skywarp and Thundercracker dart out of the way before he can shove them aside. His EM field is pulsing with every emotion he feels. Guilt most of all, but he reigns it back in with a sharp in-vent, squaring his shoulders and raising his wings.
What he said was true. He didn’t want to speak to the mech. There was nothing more he wanted to say, he reminds himself as he stalks down the hall. The words they exchanged in their last meeting, the one before the Quintesson ambush, was all he wanted to say. He’s sure those feelings were reciprocated.
“I haven’t been sure about anything since that solar cycle.”
Perhaps patrol would keep his processor away from his former friend.
☆—☆
Classes at Iacon Academy changed every cycle. The process for graduation was long for every topic of study. Starscream was currently in his fourth cycle, having four more to go before he earned his scientist title.
It was the most dull endeavor he’s ever put himself through. Lecture upon lecture, exam upon exam. Students never got to go into the field until the very end of their schooling, and Starscream wasn’t sure he could wait much longer to get truly hands-on with his studies.
Despite the dread, the Seeker pushed himself to go to his first class of the solar cycle, the other two members of his Trine walking with him on either side. The science side of the academy had the nicer built towers, the exteriors built entirely of glass and golden beams. They could see Iacon’s streets and highways begin to get busy.
Starscream kept himself a step ahead of Skywarp and Thundercracker. They often ambled to their classes when they should be hurrying, but they never wanted to get left behind. The bots they pass by give them glances. They had a glamorous image to keep up; Starscream’s wings twitched a bit higher as he raised his chin, blue optics scanning the signs posted on the ceiling.
“It’s around here somewhere…” he mutters under his breath.
“What class do you have again, Skywarp?” Thundercracker asks the black and purple mech, peering over his shoulder guard to see his schedule pulled up on a datapad, “Molecular Physics?”
Skywarp nods. “Yeah, it’s at the end of the hall.” He looks up to the back of Starcream’s helm, “I think your room is up ahead, Scream. To the left.”
He’s right. The room’s door was open. Starscream looks behind him, giving the other two a loose wave while saying, “Try to pay attention in class this cycle, you two.”
Both just roll their optics, huff, and say their grumbling goodbyes to Starscream, who grins lightly to himself. They were some of the better students, but they weren’t as studious as himself.
The classroom was the same as all of the others; lab tables, open windows, all of the needed equipment to run experiments and do research. Starscream takes his usual seat, a middle desk closest to the window. He sets his data pad down and idly scans the room. Surprisingly, he only knows a few bots in the room with him, none of them he was really close to. He waited and watched more students fill up the lab seats, and still no one claimed the seat next to him. He laughed inwardly. They were surely intimidated by him. They tried not to stare when they noticed the accomplished Seeker sitting in the room with them. It was hard not to notice him, Starscream mused.
And it was hard not to notice the next mech that walked in. He stood at least three helms taller than any other bot, his frame painted white with red and blue accents. Starscream raised an optical ridge; he’s seen him before, in the halls and research labs. What was his name again?
The Seeker averts his gaze to the window as he tries to think of the white mech’s name. It was on the tip of his glossa…
The chair beside him shuffles and squeaks against the polished floor. A larger stack of data pads is placed next to his own. He looks over. The white mech had taken the empty seat beside him. Starscream scans his faceplate; he’s smiling, and his dark blue optics were kind.
“I should have asked if this seat was taken before I sat down.” He bows his head. “My apologies.”
Optical ridge still raised, Starscream waves a dismissive hand casually. “No need, it’s free.”
“Great, thank you,” the mech says, “Your name is Starscream, correct?”
His voice is soft; Starscream would say it doesn’t match with his looks. He can’t say he doesn’t hate the way it sounds, which is unusual, even for him, to think. Taller bots were usually gruffer, using their size to intimidate others, and yet he was not intimidating in the slightest.
“Yes, and you are?”
The taller mech is still smiling as he replies rather enthusiastically, “Skyfire. It’s nice to meet you. I’m excited to be your lab partner.”
That was a first. Starscream can’t help but look surprised. He didn’t seem to be messing with him. His happy expression looked genuine.
“As long as you don’t mind me leading most of the experiments. I like to be in charge,” the Seeker states, then adds quietly, “No offense.”
This Skyfire fellow does something yet again that surprises Starscream. He laughs. It’s more like a quiet chuckle, but it’s still a very new reaction to him being a bit passive aggressive. Is he being dense?
“Oh, none taken! That’s actually why I wanted to sit here! I hear you’re one of the best chemists in the Academy,” Skyfire shares, “Biology is more of my strong suit, so I thought it’d be a great learning experience to do chemical experiments with you!”
The praise goes straight to Starscream’s processor, as it does every time he receives compliments and acclaim. He can’t help but finally crack a grin. This mech was…alright. So far. It was odd; he couldn’t say he had ever met someone and somewhat liked them upon first meeting them.
“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I am a skilled chemist. Top marks in my third cycle classes, awards and accolades, all of that.” His wings twitch upward proudly as he prattles on, making it sound like it was not a big deal when in reality, it was.
Skyfire showed him no disdain as he bragged, instead nodding his helm in an interesting manner. “That’s true, I remember being at last cycle’s award ceremony and seeing you barely leave the stage. It must be hard to store all of those plaques in your habsuite.”
Of course the white mech knew about his academic successes. It was the Academy, after all. Skilled students always got public recognition. That was one of the main reasons why he was so well-known here; that, and his Seeker Trine being some of the fastest fliers in the school.
“If I recall correctly, you were receiving some prestigious awards as well.” Starscream pauses, humming, then continues, “It’s funny…biology isn’t my strongest area of study.”
Skyfire smiles again. “I think we’ll get along great, then!”
“I believe so, Skyfire.”