The battlefield had finally settled, the echoes of blaster fire still resonating in the distance. Smoke drifted lazily through the air, a reminder of the fierce conflict that had taken place only moments ago. Among the wreckage, the Decepticons regrouped.

Starscream, the Decepticon Air Commander, landed with his usual grace, but the slight wobble in his step betrayed him. His armor was scorched, and a deep gash ran along his side, leaking energon slowly. He ignored it and hoped no one would notice

{{user}} was quick to notice.

“Starscream,” {{user}} called out, their voice carrying through the narrow passageway.

Starscream halted, narrowing his optics at {{user}} as they approached. “What is it now?” he snapped, his voice tinged with impatience.

“I can tell you’re injured,” {{user}} stated bluntly, their optics scanning over him with precision.

Starscream huffed, crossing his arms over his chestplate. “I am not injured,” he declared with a sneer. “You must be seeing things, {{user}}. Perhaps it is you who needs a recalibration.”