(Untitled)

[theprimerprime]

Who: Starscream and Sentinel Prime
Where: Sentinel's office
When: Backdated to February 14 at some point
Warnings: Jerks being jerks, and probably a very large amount of underhanded creepistry
Summary: Sentinel wants Starscream to give a statement about his own death. Starscream wants to make Sentinel an offer he can't refuse.
Format: The tealest deer

Comments

[loltraitorlol]

The longer he spent in this body, the better it felt. Primus... No, it wasn't his true shape, not by a long shot. But on the other hand, this planet's gravity was easier on something this size. And everything worked so beautifully... truly, he'd outdone himself.

If only he had his wings now.

Of course... he'd had doubts. Horrible doubts. But his talk with Vector had, at least, distracted him for the moment. He wouldn't think about how his faction was crumbling in his hands. How he might not be cut out to lead after all.

How he might be tainted by the Chaosbringer.

No. Today, he was well dressed, going to cheerfully talk about his death... and other things. Sentinel would be almost easy to play, and Shockwave would be pleased with this test subject. Or so he hoped.

He stood outside, waiting to be let in, a pair of sunglasses halfway down his nose, his suit immaculate (as he always made certain it was when he was visiting Sentinel. No sense in looking scruffy.)

[theprimerprime]

As usual, Sentinel remained seated and opened the door remotely when Starscream appeared outside of it. He sized up the recently revived Decepticon leader as he made his entrance. Strangely enough, death seemed to have been kind to him. There was something subtly, intangibly different that piqued the Prime's attention.

"Starscream," he greeted with his usual aloof politeness. "You're looking well. Have a seat and we'll get this taken care of."

[loltraitorlol]

Starscream sat, taking off his sunglasses and putting them on Sentinel's desk - without asking permission at all. A slight smile played around his lips, like he had some sort of secret.

"Very well. You ask your questions first, then we'll get to my business."

[theprimerprime]

Sentinel glanced in momentary disapproval at the intrusion of Starscream's sunglasses onto his otherwise immaculate desk, but didn't comment on it. There was too much at stake here to spend time focusing on petty things.

"To begin with, I need you to tell me in your own words what happened on the day of your death." He reached over to tap the appropriate button on his desk console and added, "I'll be recording your statement for the official record, of course."