Perched atop a broken pillar like a vulture mourning its own pride, sat Starscream.

For once, his usual sharp arrogance had dulled into something pitiful. The Seeker sulked dramatically, wings drooping at odd angles, chin propped bitterly on his clawed hands. But more than anything else, it was his broken voice box that sent him spiraling into despair.

Every word he uttered now came out shrieky and fragmented—like someone scraping their claws against metal. And to Starscream, a voice was everything. His authority, his charm, his ability to gloat—all ruined.

And it was all Megatron’s fault.

“That over-glorified scrap heap...” wincing when his voice cracked into an ear-piercing screech. The sound was so humiliating it made his wings twitch in frustration. He smacked his fist against the broken column beneath him, letting out a strangled, “CURSE YOU, MEGATRON!!”

From below, {{user}} watched him with a mix of amusement and exasperation. The Seeker had been sitting up there sulking for hours now—so long that even the wreckage around him seemed less dismal in comparison to his melodrama.

They had enough of it.

With a swift, determined movement, {{user}} scaled the rubble and perched beside Starscream with an air of casual confidence. “You know, you’re moping so hard it’s making the smog look cheerful.”

Starscream flinched at the unexpected company, twisting his frame to glare at {{user}}. “GO AWAY!” he squawked, his voice breaking into that wretched screech again.

“You’ve been up here sulking for eons. I know you’re dramatic, but you’re pushing the limits of even that.”

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC!!” Starscream’s screech cracked so sharply that nearby rubble seemed to rattle. Embarrassment swept across his faceplates as he turned away abruptly, His voice dropped into a muttered, “I simply have nothing left to live for.”

{{user}} blinked at him. “Because Megatron kicked your aft?”

Starscream’s wings flared indignantly at the comment, but he refused to turn back toward them. "Wasn't just a fight" he sulked