I am the one who cries out at night
WHO: Starscream, people who he's been a bastard to. START YOUR OWN THREADS, SET YOUR OWN SCENES, ETC also tag this yourself
WHERE: Multiple places.
WHEN: Wendsday evening possibly through Friday unsure as of yet
SUMMARY: Have the Teal Deer version. Basically, Starscream's lost his ambition and his pride! He will be going around the city apologizing to people he's been a bastard to.
FORMAT: Up to the posters below.
There came a point when he couldn't stand being in the lab any longer. If he was going to be a disembodied spirit he was slagging well going to get outside and have a walk.
Well, more like a float. Whatever.
He slipped through the walls (like Soundwave could really stop him) and out into the afternoon streets, easily dismissible as a trick of the light, or a hallucination. Floating along the city streets, he wandered. He floated high above, circled the top spire of Stark Tower, dove down into the subway tunnels, zipped through. Unseen. Unheard.
He didn't want to think about his situation. Wouldn't. Couldn't.
He was floating through a junkyard when he paused.
Lying on the ground, half covered by dirt, was a Wather P-38. Scope included.
He was, as a spark, completely incapable of expression; but if he'd had a face he would have raised an optic ridge at that. Drawing closer, he floated around.
The thing was clearly broken beyond repair, the barrel fused, the chamber snapped open, and then...
"... No slagging way."
Cybertronian circutry.
"That's impossible."
And then he laughed."
"Mighty Megatron?! The real Megatron, dead and broken in another dimension before anyone even -"
He wasn't quite sure what happened next. His senses in that form were strange, slightly faulty - all he knew is that something latched onto his spark and -
He woke... changed.
The scar nearly splitting his spark hurt again - a deeper hurt, an emotional hurt. And he...
"... what have I done?"
Here he was, again, without a body, dead and dust and what was he fighting for anymore? What good would gaining power here do him - no, what good was power at all? What good was anything?
"Skyfire..."
That was his first coherent thought. "What have I done?"
"... but I know what I must now do."
Slowly, he floated upwards from where he'd fallen, and began to search through the city...
WHERE: Multiple places.
WHEN: Wendsday evening possibly through Friday unsure as of yet
SUMMARY: Have the Teal Deer version. Basically, Starscream's lost his ambition and his pride! He will be going around the city apologizing to people he's been a bastard to.
FORMAT: Up to the posters below.
There came a point when he couldn't stand being in the lab any longer. If he was going to be a disembodied spirit he was slagging well going to get outside and have a walk.
Well, more like a float. Whatever.
He slipped through the walls (like Soundwave could really stop him) and out into the afternoon streets, easily dismissible as a trick of the light, or a hallucination. Floating along the city streets, he wandered. He floated high above, circled the top spire of Stark Tower, dove down into the subway tunnels, zipped through. Unseen. Unheard.
He didn't want to think about his situation. Wouldn't. Couldn't.
He was floating through a junkyard when he paused.
Lying on the ground, half covered by dirt, was a Wather P-38. Scope included.
He was, as a spark, completely incapable of expression; but if he'd had a face he would have raised an optic ridge at that. Drawing closer, he floated around.
The thing was clearly broken beyond repair, the barrel fused, the chamber snapped open, and then...
"... No slagging way."
Cybertronian circutry.
"That's impossible."
And then he laughed."
"Mighty Megatron?! The real Megatron, dead and broken in another dimension before anyone even -"
He wasn't quite sure what happened next. His senses in that form were strange, slightly faulty - all he knew is that something latched onto his spark and -
He woke... changed.
The scar nearly splitting his spark hurt again - a deeper hurt, an emotional hurt. And he...
"... what have I done?"
Here he was, again, without a body, dead and dust and what was he fighting for anymore? What good would gaining power here do him - no, what good was power at all? What good was anything?
"Skyfire..."
That was his first coherent thought. "What have I done?"
"... but I know what I must now do."
Slowly, he floated upwards from where he'd fallen, and began to search through the city...