Chapter Text
Starscream banged his servos on the table with a loud clank, using the momentum to rise from his seat in one swift motion. Wings pulled up in offense.
If one stood close enough, they could hear the distinct hum of cooling fans working overtime, struggling—and failing—to cool the enraged Seeker. His red optics glowed like burning flames, promising pain.
"That's it! We have dedicated countless vorns to the Decepticon cause, and yet what have we received in return? Nothing!" Starscream screeched, his vocalizer crackling under the strain of his fury.
At the far end of the table, Megatron stood in silence, the cold glow of the computer casting a harsh blue outline across his towering frame.
Starscream rounded the table, closing the distance between them with purpose, his optics blazing as they locked onto Megatron's. Sneering, he continued, "Sacrifice after sacrifice, we have endured for you—and now you dare to deny us what is rightfully ours?"
Leaning in, his expression twisted in bitter displeasure—like a mech scolding an unruly sparkling. "How disappointing of you, Lord Megatron," he said, his voice low and laced with venom.
Megatron glared, his face dark and hard. For a moment, silence stretched between them—red optics locked in silent threats.
If a poor spark were to stand between them, he would surely be electrocuted by the sheer intensity.
In the end, Megatron broke the silence with a huff—a sound that almost resembled a laugh. He regarded Starscream with something akin to amusement. “You dare stand up to me for such a meager subject?” Megatron mused, tapping his chin. Amusement flickered in his optics.
A chill ran down Starscream's spinal strut. He wasn't sure if he liked that look.
Megatron smirked now, leaning in a bit, his frame casting a shadow over Starscream, “Why, if I had known it was that important to you, I would have done something about it sooner,” he said, his tone carrying an unsettling lilt—something between amusement and mockery.
The glitch is just messing with me! He thought, exasperated. Yet, unease still lingered, stiffening his frame.
Starscream’s wings twitched involuntarily, but he masked it with a stretch, fanning them out in a half-hearted attempt at intimidation.
¦Don’t do that, he’ll get angry,¦ Thundercracker warned through the trine bond.
Starscream cast a brief glance at his trinemates—who stood awkwardly in the corner like children in the middle of a custody Battle. He flicked his wing in annoyance, ready to retort.
But before he could, Megatron shifted.
Without another glance, the Decepticon leader turned away from the table, taking a step forward as he clasped his servo behind his back. Waving them dismissively, as he spoke over his shoulder, his tone laced with boredom. “Very well. You and your trine have been permitted the day off.”
Thundercracker and Skywarp exhaled in unison, visually relived. Skywarp grinned, immediately throwing Starscream a–not-so-discreet–thumbs-up.
But Starscream only frowned.
“A day? That's all we get?” he sneered, placing a servo to his hip.
Megatron turned to him slightly with a frown, “What?”
Panic seeped from his trinemates as both Thundercracker and Skywarp shook their helms vehemently, flailing their servos in a frantic attempt to signal their trine leader to stop. He’s going to ruin everything.
¦Stop it screamer, this is the best deal we can get!¦ Skywarp cried over the bond.
¦Don't push your luck,¦ Thundercracker warned him.
But Starscream paid them no mind, instead he fixed his leader with the same look he wore when delivering his reports—calculated, poised, and utterly defiant.
“Lord Megatron,” he started slowly, straightening his back a bit and keeping his wings at shoulder level, “as you know, according to the Decepticon laws and regulations, section 892: Basic Rights of Commanding Officers, subsection number 4: ‘Each 1 million vrons, a commanding officer (who is still functioning) will be permitted the cycle off and would be seen as neutral throughout the entirety of the night and day Cybertronian cycles, provided they have remained active and demonstrably performative in their duties during the preceding 1 million vrons.”
Megatron turned to face him completely, arching an optic ridge sharply, “Yes, and that is what I di–”
"But," Starscream interrupted, pointing a sharp digit toward Megatron’s scrunched face, "due to external factors, we could not claim those cycles off for the past six million vrons. Therefore, we are entitled to a minimum of six cycles compensatory leave. Which, if we do not include this cycle that is coming to an end, complies with the rest of the week off,” he finished, clasping his servos together and smiling up at Megatron, Looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
Say what you will about Starscream, but when it comes to persuading there's no one better than him. His ability to manipulate someone in such a professional manner would make you think that maybe he should have been a lawyer.
No matter, lawyer or not, Starscream left Megatron with no room for argument, and it looks like they both know it.
Megatron, visibly frustrated, pinched the bridge of his facial ridge. "Fine." he conceded. "The remainder of the week is granted. I will notify the Autobots of your temporary neutrality.” Thundercracker and Skywarp optics immediately brighten up at that, Skywarp’s mouth hung open while Thundercracker’s optics widened, both of them looking at Starscream in unfiltered disbelief.
Starscream grinned inwardly at his trinemates, smugness seeping through the bond.
”However," he stated, his gaze sweeping across the three Seekers, causing Thundercracker and Skywarp to visibly flinch and stiffen, "I expect your immediate return to duty upon the conclusion of your leave; not one minute later.”
Starscream bowed, Thundercracker mirroring him before shoving Skywarp’s helm down to do the same. Gaining a soft ‘Ow’ from the teleporter.
“Of course lord Megatron, thank you for seeing reason and granting us this favor, you have our gratitude.” Starscream drawled, grinning at the floor.
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Excused by Megatron, they stepped out into the long, empty halls of the upper deck. Their thrusters echoed soft clicks against the cold metal floor, and their frames cast long shadows as they walked in silence. Starscream led, his usual sway of his hips in full effect as he strolled in confidence. Thundercracker stole occasional glances behind them. Skywarp, disinterested, looked to the side and sashayed along with a hand on his hip, his wings twitching with each step.
As soon as they turned the corner and were out of sight, Skywarp grabbed Starscream by the shoulders from behind, and started shaking him so hard one would think he owed him credits.
“I can’t believe it!” Skywarp exclaimed, his voice ringing with excitement. “The whole week off! The whole fragging week! You’re fragging amazing!” At this point, the teleporter’s shaking was so frantic Starscream was in danger of getting a loose chip.
“Skywarp, give him a break,” Thundercracker called from behind the fighting seekers. Stepping in with a twinkle of amusement in his optics, he placed a servo on Starscream's arm, which was now gripping Skywarp’s face, and added, “I'll admit, you pulled ‘t off better than I thought,”
He sighed through his vents in exhaustion and his wings hung lower with the action. “I thought for a moment we'd need to scrape you off the floor. But I guess you do have a knack for surviving your own mouth.” He finished it off with a small pout that looked more like a smile.
Starscream scoffed, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, “Do you really have such small faith in me? Of course it went well, I'm Starscream after all!” he exclaimed, putting the hand that isn't grabbing Skywarp’s squirming face on his cockpit, “and believe me, if anyone can survive my mouth, it is going to be me.”
Thundercracker just snickered, his servos settling on both their shoulders as he pulled them in, forming a loose huddle.
Skywarp pried Starscream’s servo off just enough to be heard clearly and chirped “Still! I'm so excited! It's gonna be so fun flyin’ around and doin’ whatever the pit we want!”
“Within limitations, Warp.” Thundercracker interjected, already fixing him with a flat glare.
Skywarp just nods dismissively, “Yeah yeah, limitations and slag– but now I don't have anyone breathing down my cables tellin’ me what I can and can't do.” he said grinning.
Starscream rolls his eyes with a scrawl, his wings twitching in annoyance. ‘of course he forgot’
“You do know you only get to do ‘whatever you want’ if we approve it, right? We all agreed on that. We need to make sure you don't offline us just because something sounded ‘fun’.” He crossed his arms over his cockpit, unimpressed.
Skywarp froze mid-cheer, his optics widening in disbelief. “Wait... what?!” He clutched his cockpit dramatically. “But I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Starscream interrupted, folding his arms. “Do you really think I’d let you ruin the entire week?”
Thundercracker shook his helm, looking at Skywarp unimpressed as well, as he leaned against the wall. “Seriously, Warp. You were there when we decided this. You can do whatever you want, but all of us have to agree to it. You even said ‘fine, whatever.’”
Skywarp’s wings flared indignantly, his mouth opening and closing like a glitching console. “No! I know! I-I just thought that was, like, a suggestion!” He threw his arms in the air, optics wide with mock betrayal. “This is a travesty!”
Starscream rolled his optics and brushed past him. “You don’t even know what ‘travesty’ means. And besides, what makes you think we’d just let you teleport around pranking everyone? I’m not spending the rest of the week in trouble because of you.”
“I wouldn't get us in trouble!” Skywarp protested, stomping after him. “and I have plans!”
Falling into step beside Starscream, Thundercracker shot back, “Yeah, plans to get us all scrapped. Just be glad we're letting you have those two cycles in the first place, Warp.”
Skywarp groaned, flapping his wings in frustration. “Fine! Whatever! But you two better do something fun, or I'll—”
“Cry about it?” Starscream drawled over his shoulder, his smirk sharp and smug.
Thundercracker chuckled, clapping a hand on Skywarp’s shoulder. “Come on, Warp. Make the most of your two cycles. And maybe next time, pay attention when we’re making deals.”
Skywarp huffed, muttering something about “tyrants,” but quickly brightened. “Fine! I don't care! And I didn't even plan anything bad! So it’s gonna be amazing!”
Starscream exchanged a knowing look with Thundercracker, amusement palpable on both of their faces as Skywarp strutted ahead, already planning his mischief.
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[THE AUTOBOTS BASE; TWO JOORNS AFTER THE MEETING WITH MEGATRON]
“What is it, Prowl?” Optimus asked into his comms.
“We’ve received a transmission from the Decepticons. We need you here.” Prowl’s voice came through the common, measured and precise as always. But if you know him long enough, you will hear concern there too.
“I am on my way, ” Optimus replied, rising from his seat. He made his way out of his office with purposeful strides.
As he took the corner, he nearly collided with Sunstreaker, who muttered a quick apology before continuing on his path.
The main communications room wasn’t far, but it was still a walk, and by the time Optimus arrived, Jazz was already waiting for him outside the door.
“Boss bot,” Jazz greeted, serious but still carrying his usual charm. “Looks like somethin’ big’s up. Figured you’d wanna see this firsthand. Though Prowl kinda beat me to it.”
turning to open the door he added, “If ya ask me it's probably nothin’ too serious. Red’ just got everyone paranoid.” he finished as the door slid open with a hiss.
“It is quite alright. Is he… Here?” he asked cautiously. It wasn’t that Optimus disliked Red Alert, but in situations like these, he could be… difficult.
Jazz snickered, amusement flashing in his visor, “Nah, don't worry, we sent him to Inferno for some coolin’ down.” Optimus nods, thankfully, and ducks through the doorway. Inside, the room buzzed with quiet tension.
Blaster and Rewind sat at the main terminal, fingers poised over the keyboard as Mainframe clicked away on his keyboard, flashing code moving fast on his own little screen. The three of them mutter amongst each other every once in a while.
Prowl stood tall with his servos clasped behind his back, looking at Optimus as he finally stepped into the room.
“Prowl,” Optimus began, stepping closer, “what do we know about this transmission?”
Prowl straightened, his expression as stoic and composed as ever. “The message was received approximately 1.3 joorns ago. It was subjected to a full diagnostic scan for malware, hidden code, or potential traps. All tests returned negative. There are no immediate indicators of deception or sabotage, but given the sender, we cannot dismiss the possibility of a concealed agenda.”
Optimus frowned slightly, nodding in acknowledgment. “Understood. Have you identified the sender or their intent?”
“Not yet,” Prowl replied, His tone was as precise as ever, but there was a note of respect. “We refrained from opening the message before your arrival, since its content may require your direct input.” He gestured to the screen. “It’s marked as an ‘Important Update’ from the Decepticons, but there’s no additional context provided in the header. Though there is a 87% chance this was sent by the Decepticon communications officer: Soundwave.”
“Yeah, gotta be Sounder, ” Blaster said, leaning backwards and tilting his head back to look at him, “Ran a full defrag—this thing’s got Soundwave’s sig all over.” he finished before looking back at the screen and fold his servos behind his head to further leans into his chair.
Small upbeat tunes could be heard from his direction a few kilks later.
Jazz leaned against the console next to Rewind, arms crossed. “Yeah, but not exactly his usual style, huh? Feels... off.”
Rewind just shrugged, also leaning back in his chair. “You two know him better than me, so I can't really comment, but from my experience, mechs tend to prefer to send a message before declaring a ceasefire or a truce.”
This made Optimus perk up a bit, while rare, the Decepticons had made similar moves in moments of desperation. And if anyone knew that, it was Rewind.
He distantly wondered if the things in the Decepticons really are that grave, when Jazz’ snicker caught his adials. “Heh, real hopeful of ya, Rewind.” he hummed amusingly.
Rewind shrugged and glanced at him, “I love history—really, I do. I might even call myself an enthusiast. I know how things go, how bad they can get. But even I gotta hope things can turn out better.”
Optimus vented softly, his optics narrowing at the screen. “Whatever the message may be, we are ready to handle it. Let’s proceed. Shall we?”
With a quick “Ya got it boss bot!” that was accompanied by the sound of a victorious trumpet, Blaster’s digits swiftly moved across the keyboard. The title of the message [IMPORTANT UPDATE: DECEPTICONS] loomed large on the screen, and a moment later, the contents began to load.
The room fell silent as everyone prepared for whatever revelation lay within.
As the contact loaded fully, the the following message read out on the screen:
[PRIORITY TRANSMISSION: DECLARATION OF NEUTRALITY]
FROM: DECEPTICON COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER, SOUNDWAVE. TO: AUTOBOT HIGH COMMAND. NOTIFICATION: THE FOLLOWING PERSONNEL—AIR COMMANDER STARSCREAM, FIRST LIEUTENANT THUNDERCRACKER, AND SECOND LIEUTENANT SKYWARP—ARE HEREBY DECLARED NEUTRAL PARTIES UNDER THE PROTECTIONS OUTLINED IN THE INTER-FACTION WAR ACCORD. NEUTRALITY STATUS IS IN EFFECT FOR SIX CONSECUTIVE DAY AND NIGHT CYCLES, COMMENCING IMMEDIATELY. DURING THIS PERIOD, THE AFOREMENTIONED INDIVIDUALS ARE STRICTLY BARRED FROM ENTERING AUTOBOT-CONTROLLED TERRITORIES, AND ENGAGEMENT WITH THEM IS PROHIBITED UNDER THE TERMS OF THE ACCORD. THIS DECLARATION IS TRANSMITTED IN ACCORDANCE WITH WAR ACCORD STATUTES. COMPLIANCE IS EXPECTED.
[END TRANSMISSION]
… What?
Within seconds, the communication room was filled with an assortment of reactions. From the terminal Rewind leaned back in his chair, muttering something nervously, while Blaster did the opposite, leaning forward optics wide, always ready for a bit of flair, his speakers spurred a series of various sound effects, his face a perfect picture of bewilderment. He glanced over to Mainframe, his optics still wide with confusion.
Mainframe blinked at the screen, glancing around. “Well, that’s a first.”
Jazz, already cackling uncontrollably, wipes an imaginary tear. “I guess yer right. Imagine them on a beach or somethin’, huh? Think they'll send postcards?”
Optimus couldn’t help but silently thank Primus for his battle mask—otherwise, everyone would’ve seen his gaping mouth, trying and failing to find a proper response.
Prowl wasn't doing so well either, his stoic expression now twitching as disbelief and horror creeped into his face the longer he stared at the screen. That stare was then turned so fast towards Optimus that he was worried Prowl may have snapped a neck cable, “Can they even do that!?!” he exclaimed, gesturing with both servos to the screen.
That made Jazz burst into a long weez in the background. Optimus glanced at him quickly before turning his attention back to his abhorrent third, opening his intake to try and calm everyone, he was quickly interrupted by said third.
“This should not be allowed! The rules don’t account for impromptu vacations during ongoing hostilities! The closest mention is Article 298, subsection 5, which only permits—” Prowl then gasped, before taking a sharp 180° turn, and announcing from the door, “I'll be back! I need to check something!”
“Prowl–” Optimus starts, before deciding to let the tactician do as he wishes, it is always better to let him sort it out by himself then get in his way.
Although… it would be better to get him to calm down first before he starts. His optics slowly drifted to Jazz while he considered his options.
Jazz, probably thinking the same thing, walks past Optimus and pets him lightly on his shoulder, “Don't worry, I'll handle dis.”
Giving everyone a two digit salut, Jazz takes his leave, shouting “Hey Babe! Wait up!” in the distance.
The room fell silent again as everyone's optics slowly turned to Optimus.
Oh no he thought with a sigh as Blaster and Rewind exchanged looks.
Blaster twisted in his chair, propping his elbow on the backrest. “So, uh…” He gestured vaguely at the screen. “Does Dis mean we jus’…what? leave them alone for a week?”
Optimus restrained himself from pinching the bridge of his nose as he answered, “It appears so.”
Rewind turned to Optimus too, standing to look over the back of his chair, he asked, “Do you think they're truly going to go on a vacation?” the other part of the question was left unsaid as Rewind's concern slipped into his uncertainty.
“I don’t know,” Optimus admitted, glancing at the screen again. “But I have the distinct feeling that this is going to be some very long six cycles.”