You kicked off of the ground, activating your pede thrusters to jet yourself forward. Dirt scattered and metal heated under the torch of the heat they emitted. You shot upward, activating your back engines to further elevate. You shot through the air with a crack rippling the air and echoing off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

The wind rushed over your face and breathed through your vents. Your engine purred. You didn’t transform into your alt mode until you were about 500 feet off of the ground, when you finally shifted into the lithe rocket to glide into the stratosphere.

You moved in a corkscrew-like spiral up and higher. It was there, in the exosphere, you could see the stars. Past Cybertron’s atmosphere and gazing into the tinted expanse of space. You shifted into your bipedal form to fall back down. Helm dipping backwards with your arms outstretched.

Watching as the oh-so-close stars faded back to blue sky as you sank into the atmosphere.

Your expression hardened as she descended down quickly. The air rushing over your body harshly and jerking you around. Your paint was naturally friction resistant and you avoided burning up in the atmosphere.

You gazed onward hollowly before shifting back to land properly. You caught yourself before you crashed into Cybertron’s surface. Your thrusters have softened your descent as well as scorch the ground below yourself. These scorch marks littered the ground from the past few times. You shifted to stand up.

“Done with your dramatics?” Starscream’s ghost cocked his helm to the side. Wearing that smug (and currently hypocritical) smile.