This is the AU that officially goes with @lockedandgrey. Any asks or interactions pertaining to her, will take place in this verse.
Unlike normal interactions, this AU is multiverse-friendly. As such, I’m planning to ease this into being my main verse for dash commentary.
Things to note about this AU:
Starscream returned to the Decepticons very briefly at the end of season 2, aided in the assault on the Autobot base, and then left shortly after the destruction of Darkmount. He was not present for the rest of season 3, or for ‘Predacons Rising’.
As of “current events” of the timeline, Starscream and Greylock are living in Earth, isolated from other Cybertronians. It’s been about 80 years since the end of the series and Cybertron’s revival.
Due to the Autobots rudely moving in, Starscream lost his base at the Harbinger.
The cortical psychic patch between Starscream and Megatron never took place, therefore Dreadwing never found out about Skyquake, therefore Dreadwing never betrayed the Decepticons and tried to kill Starscream, therefore Dreadwing never died and remained SIC until the end of the series. The Autobots got the Forge of Solus Prime when it fell out of a plothole. Look I’m still working on it ok.
Because of Starscream’s absence, the events of ‘Thirst’ never happened, therefore Airachnid is still hanging out in a stasis pod somewhere.
More information will be added as the verse grows.
Starscream was well on his way back to the plateau when he received the call. He knew who it was from, of course, even before checking the name.
≪ Greylock? ≫ A useless affirmation: there was only one mecha these days who would contact him, and only one in all existence to call him “carrier.” . ≪ Is everything alright? ≫
≪ I’m fine! ≫ the youngling rushed, which only served to make him more suspicious. ≪ Just umm, wondering when you’ll be home. ≫
Ah. Of course. Starscream gave a quick glance to his current coordinates; approximately 150 mechanomiles out. ≪ I’m on my way now. ≫ he replied. ≪ I should be back by nightfall. ≫
The relieved sigh that came through the comm. caused Starscream’s spark to swell. It was a strange feeling, though one he had grown accustomed to over the past eighty or so orbital cycles--a feeling he had first encountered holding a tiny, trilling protoform in his servos, her miniscule claws reaching eagerly toward him.
It was such a rush to be wanted, loved unconditionally.
≪ So, ≫ the youngling in question began, tone forcibly casual, ≪ I’ve been reading some of those files you gave me. ≫
To say Starscream was surprised would have been an understatement.
≪ Oh? ≫ Greylock had never shown much interest in those files before. Even with him hovering over her, prompting her (study, learn, this is where you come from), she would fidget and whine and take to picking at the ground rather than read. ≪ And what brought this on? ≫
≪ Nothing in particular! ≫ came his creation’s reply, and Starscream nearly snorted. If she was trying to act nonchalant, she was failing miserably. ≪ I was just…bored. I wanted to ask you a few things: this one report talks about someone called ‘Cyclonus’. I was wondering if there was anything more you could tell me about him? ≫
‘Cyclonus, Cyclonus...’ Starscream wracked his processor, struggling to conjure the mech’s fascia. He knew the mech, for certain, though never particularly well: his plating had been shades of purple (or was it blue?) with his helm in some ridiculous shape. What more was there?
And why was he suddenly significant?
≪ He was a flier, under my command, ≫ he replied after a moment’s contemplation. ≪ I can’t say I ever spoke with him at any great length. ≫
A soft hmm came from Greylock’s end. ≪ The report says he challenged you guys in Iacon? ≫
Were he currently capable, Starscream would have shrugged.
≪ If that’s what the report says, ≫ he conceded, ≪ then I suppose it must be true. ≫
≪ So what happened to him? ≫
Another question which required some thought. Cyclonus had not been stationed on Earth with them, instead sent to some off-world outpost. And though he had still technically been under Starscream’s command, the Seeker had only rarely given care to any of his far-flung subordinates. If they weren’t there to serve him, after all, what use were they?
≪ I was never made aware of his termination, ≫ he answered at last. ≪ So far as I know, he still functions somewhere. ≫ A pause, thinking. ≪ It’s possible he’s returned to Cybertron. ≫ He certainly wouldn’t have been the only Decepticon to submit to Autobot rule with the war’s end, after all.
On the other end of the line, Greylock made a soft noise of disappointment, and Starscream felt his spark twinge. A ridiculous reaction, really--it was hardly his fault he lacked the intel to give her answers. Why should he feel bad that he was unable to do so?
≪ Well, ≫ the youngling continued, ≪ how about Galvatron, then? Or Scourge? ≫
...what?
Had he currently been in root mode, Starscream’s expression would have been one of bafflement: his optics wide, intake hanging slightly open. He might have refreshed his optics once, twice, three times. Then his intake would have closed, optics narrowing as the shock faded, and suspicion set in.
Galvatron. Scourge. Designations of no one he knew, or had in fact ever heard of. Certainly they weren’t the designations of anyone mentioned in the files he’d given his creation. So where had she learned of them? Were they characters she had made up on her own, some wild fantasy story?
Or...
≪ …I am not familiar with either of those names. ≫ The words came out somewhat harsher than Starscream had intended, but he could not bring himself to regret it through the suspicion boiling in his veins. ≪ Where did you come across them? ≫
As expected, Greylock’s reply came in a panicked rush. ≪ J-just in reading! ≫
The response only deepened Starscream’s suspicion. ≪ Which files? ≫
≪ …I don’t remember? ≫
Of course she didn’t. The Seeker made a soft tch sound, processor working. The Kaonite download, the questions about her sire, and now this. This information had not come from nowhere, and he doubted she had found it “simply browsing”--his creation had never shown any interest in the war, or the Decepticons, or her heritage before he’d granted her access to the datanet. She would have had no reason so look these things up on her own; someone else was guiding her.
Someone she was hiding from him.
≪ We will go over the files once I return, ≫ he said. ≪ There are others I have not shared with you; perhaps we can find your answers there. ≫
And perhaps he would finally be able to wrest some answers from her.
Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours. | NOT ACCEPTING
The only warning Blackout got was a furious shriek, and the sound of roaring jet turbines. Then there was a Seeker attempting to claw out his optics.
Greylock could just be heard above the crash of metal-on-metal, her tiny voice shrieking with Blackout!, and Carrier!, and stop it both of you! But her carrier either did not hear her, or did not care for her protests. He was nearly incandescent with rage, launching himself blindly against a mech twice his size.
“You will not touch her!!”
Again and again Starscream dove at the titan, claws leaving angry gouges in dark armor. But a Seeker was not built for stamina. Inevitably he would slow, and one of Blackout’s retaliations would at last find its mark, striking him from the air to crash heavily into the ground.
Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours.
“I envy you.”
The Seeker leaned against the wall near the entrance to the hangar, waiting to speak until Blackguard passed him on her way to leave. His optics were fixed on Rigel and Steelix, still chatting together where just minutes before the merchant had sat with them. Greylock, of course, was nowhere to be seen; no doubt she was tucked away in some corner, probably preening in her mirror.
“It comes so easily to you,” Starscream continued. “This,” he waved a clawed servo, “thing, with the younglings. Those two aren’t even yours, and yet it’s such a simple task for you to nurture them, and care for them, and keep them safe.
“Meanwhile,” he laughed, though there was hardly any humour in the sound, “I have my own CNA, my own coding and metals, and most days I can barely understand her.” Mouthplates twisted in a joyless smile, he turned his faceplate to the other, gaze fixing upon the blue visor and the shielded optics beneath.
