Oblivion [NARRATIVE]
Who: Starscream // NARRATIVE
What: I'm dying, Squirtle.
Where: Somewhere in Kalliste
When: Shortly after his escape from Wreck-Gar's awful singing.
Warnings: DEATH IS LIKE A REVOLVING DOOR. But Violence, yes. Some mech gore.
Notes: Because there was nowhere else to put this huge wall of text :/
He flew low on his way back over the mainland of Kalliste, taking out whatever he could hit with his pulse cannons. He had to get back to the island- he'd already wasted valuable time dodging the Slake Moths and getting trapped inside the damned glass rubble.
Unfortunately there was to be a second delay. He felt it pierce his hindquarters, damaging the fuel lines to his thrusters- a spear that landed a lucky hit. He transformed and yanked the weapon from what turned out to be his right stabilizing servo, squinting through his one good optic for the creature that had thrown it.
It was no good. He would have to land and get it patched. Maybe toss up a distress signal for some backup. As soon as he touched ground, it was coming after him, of course. He made short work of it. No time to revel in the satisfaction of revenge, Starscream limped his way over to find some kind of cover.
That's when the second one leaped on his back, clawing viciously at his wings. He elbowed it, stumbling backwards and smashing it against a nearby wall of glass that seemed to crack like a web at the impact. That seemed to dislodge it, but still more came from the sides. Where did they all come from? there weren't this many when he was flying-
Luckily it seemed to be mostly comprised of Solaris' failed troops and the clockwork mooks. He thrashed, trying to free himself. Eventually, with no room to swing his blade or fire off a decent shot, Starscream resorted to claws and dental plates, which seemed to do a fair amount of damage in their own right. He twisted, kicking and clawing at them.
At last he seemed to break from the fray. There was no choice. He had to run. Flying was no longer an option. He limp-stumbled his way down the street, using his sword like crutch, but he was too damned slow like this. They gained on him, and he was forced to fight again. They'd landed their share of hits, too. Damaged and dented, Starscream turned and faced them again, fighting the futile battle with every bit of vindictive viciousness he always possessed. He snarled as he felt a blade lodge itself into his shoulder joints.
Eventually, he collapsed under the weight of them, the Huuzahn restraining his arms as they pulled him up.
He was a bit baffled as to why they hadn't killed him immediately. Torn him to shreds and been done with it...
I won't die here.
He pulled and struggled uselessly in their grasp until he felt the axe sink into one of his wings.
The pain was blinding. It was like how Megatron used to grab and twist them only about ten billion times worse. He knew what they were doing.
"No! You can't have them!" He hissed and snarled when the second blow came further to severing one of his most prized appendages. It was torture. yes, physically it hurt like nothing he'd felt before- but it was more demoralizing than anything. His angry screeching was lost on the small mob of beasts, reveling in his pain as they slowly hacked his wings off. They dropped his limp form, one of the Huuzahn still clutching his helm and lifting his head just enough so another could gouge out his other optic with a glass knife. Blinded and beaten, they apparently thought it was quite funny to let him die alone, miserable, slowly. At the mercy of whatever Slake Moth or Scissor-bearing minion of Isis that came along.
He lay there for some time as they milled about, kicking at him, prodding him with spears and swords. Eventually they all dispersed to leave him to his fate.
I won't die like this.
Wait a second. Have you come so far, for it to end like this?
Get back up.
What are you so afraid of? Get up.
"Okay."
Starscream pushed himself to his feet with the last bit of energy he had. Bleeding out energon, coolant and oil from various wounds.
If anything. He would prove he was hard to kill.
He felt around for something- anything. His servo brushing over the sword. Ah- there- the hilt. He unwrapped the scarf he'd wrapped the hilt in, clumsily tying it around his useless, shatterd optics to stop the irritating feeling of fluids trickling down his face. Leaning heavily on the blade, he limped, feeling his way down the street. He had to make it back. His comm had been damaged. No use trying to send up a distress signal now.
He simply had to navigate by touch alone. No matter that he couldn't make it back to the island without his wings, but it was less about that now, and more about simply.
Defiance.
Leaving a slowly fading glowing trail of energon smeared along walls of glass, he finally came to rest against an archway that soon crumbled under his weight.
Starscream could no longer walk, much less stand. Draped over the half-broken arch, he felt his spark flickering.
No... I can't die. I promised I'd come... back.
Suddenly a touch ghosted over his face. The distinct feeling of a small human hand stroking his nose.
Somehow he knew the name.
"Damon? What are you doing h-" His voice sputtered out, but his question stood. He could practically hear the boy smiling.
"It's okay, Starscream."
It's okay to die now.
There was nobody but him, alone, the strange illusions only tracking through his memory. The scarf tied around his optics soaked through with his internal fluids. The Seeker's shell faded to gray, and his spark dispersed. His body still draped over the broken archway amidst the glass.
What: I'm dying, Squirtle.
Where: Somewhere in Kalliste
When: Shortly after his escape from Wreck-Gar's awful singing.
Warnings: DEATH IS LIKE A REVOLVING DOOR. But Violence, yes. Some mech gore.
Notes: Because there was nowhere else to put this huge wall of text :/
He flew low on his way back over the mainland of Kalliste, taking out whatever he could hit with his pulse cannons. He had to get back to the island- he'd already wasted valuable time dodging the Slake Moths and getting trapped inside the damned glass rubble.
Unfortunately there was to be a second delay. He felt it pierce his hindquarters, damaging the fuel lines to his thrusters- a spear that landed a lucky hit. He transformed and yanked the weapon from what turned out to be his right stabilizing servo, squinting through his one good optic for the creature that had thrown it.
It was no good. He would have to land and get it patched. Maybe toss up a distress signal for some backup. As soon as he touched ground, it was coming after him, of course. He made short work of it. No time to revel in the satisfaction of revenge, Starscream limped his way over to find some kind of cover.
That's when the second one leaped on his back, clawing viciously at his wings. He elbowed it, stumbling backwards and smashing it against a nearby wall of glass that seemed to crack like a web at the impact. That seemed to dislodge it, but still more came from the sides. Where did they all come from? there weren't this many when he was flying-
Luckily it seemed to be mostly comprised of Solaris' failed troops and the clockwork mooks. He thrashed, trying to free himself. Eventually, with no room to swing his blade or fire off a decent shot, Starscream resorted to claws and dental plates, which seemed to do a fair amount of damage in their own right. He twisted, kicking and clawing at them.
At last he seemed to break from the fray. There was no choice. He had to run. Flying was no longer an option. He limp-stumbled his way down the street, using his sword like crutch, but he was too damned slow like this. They gained on him, and he was forced to fight again. They'd landed their share of hits, too. Damaged and dented, Starscream turned and faced them again, fighting the futile battle with every bit of vindictive viciousness he always possessed. He snarled as he felt a blade lodge itself into his shoulder joints.
Eventually, he collapsed under the weight of them, the Huuzahn restraining his arms as they pulled him up.
He was a bit baffled as to why they hadn't killed him immediately. Torn him to shreds and been done with it...
I won't die here.
He pulled and struggled uselessly in their grasp until he felt the axe sink into one of his wings.
The pain was blinding. It was like how Megatron used to grab and twist them only about ten billion times worse. He knew what they were doing.
"No! You can't have them!" He hissed and snarled when the second blow came further to severing one of his most prized appendages. It was torture. yes, physically it hurt like nothing he'd felt before- but it was more demoralizing than anything. His angry screeching was lost on the small mob of beasts, reveling in his pain as they slowly hacked his wings off. They dropped his limp form, one of the Huuzahn still clutching his helm and lifting his head just enough so another could gouge out his other optic with a glass knife. Blinded and beaten, they apparently thought it was quite funny to let him die alone, miserable, slowly. At the mercy of whatever Slake Moth or Scissor-bearing minion of Isis that came along.
He lay there for some time as they milled about, kicking at him, prodding him with spears and swords. Eventually they all dispersed to leave him to his fate.
I won't die like this.
Wait a second. Have you come so far, for it to end like this?
Get back up.
What are you so afraid of? Get up.
"Okay."
Starscream pushed himself to his feet with the last bit of energy he had. Bleeding out energon, coolant and oil from various wounds.
If anything. He would prove he was hard to kill.
He felt around for something- anything. His servo brushing over the sword. Ah- there- the hilt. He unwrapped the scarf he'd wrapped the hilt in, clumsily tying it around his useless, shatterd optics to stop the irritating feeling of fluids trickling down his face. Leaning heavily on the blade, he limped, feeling his way down the street. He had to make it back. His comm had been damaged. No use trying to send up a distress signal now.
He simply had to navigate by touch alone. No matter that he couldn't make it back to the island without his wings, but it was less about that now, and more about simply.
Defiance.
Leaving a slowly fading glowing trail of energon smeared along walls of glass, he finally came to rest against an archway that soon crumbled under his weight.
Starscream could no longer walk, much less stand. Draped over the half-broken arch, he felt his spark flickering.
No... I can't die. I promised I'd come... back.
Suddenly a touch ghosted over his face. The distinct feeling of a small human hand stroking his nose.
Somehow he knew the name.
"Damon? What are you doing h-" His voice sputtered out, but his question stood. He could practically hear the boy smiling.
"It's okay, Starscream."
It's okay to die now.
There was nobody but him, alone, the strange illusions only tracking through his memory. The scarf tied around his optics soaked through with his internal fluids. The Seeker's shell faded to gray, and his spark dispersed. His body still draped over the broken archway amidst the glass.