The base was barely a base — just metal corridors and a hum of new energy pulsing through Cybertron’s undercity. But Starscream made it feel like a throne room anyway. He sat with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, wings fanned just right, polishing the edge of his heel until it gleamed like a blade.

“Megatron,” he murmured, testing the name on his glossa like fine energon. “Such promise for a miner.” He smirked at his reflection in the metal wall. “But let’s see how long he stays in charge.”