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Description
"What is this?" Megatron squinted at the stranger on the battlefield. He was certainly a Seeker, and in fact he bore a great physical resemblance to Starscream in the way the chassis was shaped, but there the similarities ended.

Where Starscream cowered, the stranger stood tall. And where Starscream would have hunched to protect his spark -- as most Seekers did -- this one seemed to defiantly invite attack as he stood beside Arcee. Blue optics met red and narrowed.

"Starscream," Arcee growled as the otherworldly flyer began to move away from her, "What are you doing? Stick to the plan!"

"I have to face him, Arcee," the young Decepticon leader said calmly. "I need to look into his optics and see for myself that he isn't my Megatron." He turned back just once, to offer her a sparkbreaking smile. "You understand."

Arcee looked away, face tight with an old pain. "You know that I do."

Starscream nodded to her and strode across the battlefield, deftly avoiding Vehicons and Insecticons, as well as the cannonfire of Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers, until he stood no more than three yards from Megatron.

"You wear my brand, Seeker," the tyrant mused, and Starscream winced at the harshness of his voice, "But I do not think you are one of mine!"

After a moment's hesitation, Starscream shook his helm. "No," he agreed quietly, "I don't think I am."

Megatron considered simply shooting the stranger down. It was altogether too uncanny that he resembled Starscream while also having a voice eerily similar to his traitorous second in command. It was as if the universe had taken up all the stunted, forgotten components of the Seeker's personality, scrambled them together with a splash of paint, and spat out a Starscream that was a proper Decepticon if his reaction to the battle was anything to go by. The blue optics were a surprise though.

"What do they call you, Seeker?" he asked with a raised brow. If he didn't like the answer, he could always kill him.

"I am Starscream, though not as you may know him," the young mech answered, and Megatron felt a spear of ice through his spark at the accuracy of his earlier observations.

"What then," he scoffed to hide his sudden unease, "Another clone? I know of no duplicates that change their color scheme to differentiate from their original."

"No, thank Primus!" The blue eyed Starscream shuddered, and the commanding stripes on his wings winked in the light. "It is shame enough that I share a frame and designation with your toadying coward. To share mesh and energon with him would be too great a trial to bear."

At this Megatron laughed, even as Soundwave silently informed him that Optimus and the scout were approaching from the south. He'd guessed that this might be some kind of diversion already, but let them think he was blind to them. He was interested in finding out how the Autobots had got their hands on this alternate Starscream.

"What is your rank, Starscream?" His imperious tone made it quite clear that it was a demand and not a query.

For a moment, Starscream shuttered his optics and let himself pretend. But any longer than a half second would have been too costly and he opened them again. "Lord of the Decepticons, unfortunately," he said coolly. Arcee and Optimus both had warned him of this Megatron -- no, this pretender wearing his skin; Starscream refused to place this being in the same category as his grafted guardian -- and his terrible temper. He was aware that he jealously guarded his title and would never suffer another to hold even similar rank.

Megatron circled closer in the tight, controlled movements of a predator. "My, you are ambitious, aren't you?" he sneered. "I might've guessed your designation by that alone."

The Seeker balanced his weight carefully and eased into a slight crouch, waiting for Optimus to make his move. "You mistake acceptance of circumstance for willing ambition," he scoffed. "Though it won't mean anything to you, I'd give my wings to see the title's proper master restored to me and my faction."

Megatron was taken aback by the emotion and sincerity in the smaller warrior's voice and optics. How disgustingly like an Autobot, he decided, though if this Starscream spoke of another Megatron -- he determined not to think of such impossibilities further as they merely hurt his processor -- then his loyalty was admirable and a welcome contrast to his own second in command.
But he still stood with the Autobots, and therefore he was of no use to Megatron. Except perhaps as a source of information. He send a private signal to Soundwave, instructing him to look for ways to cut off the Seeker from escape.

"Clearly your loyalty to your master was short lived if you've so soon thrown your lot in with Optimus Prime," the warlord said dryly. "If that is indeed the case, I find myself wondering what exactly your purpose here is. Why parlay with me if you are no true Decepticon?"

Starscream flinched at first, then seemed to steel his resolve as Megatron loomed over him. He straightened and let his wings drop a little in slight deference. "Because no one can guarantee the outcome of a battle. In moments, the fighting will intensify, and this will be my last chance."

"To do what?" asked Megatron casually, even as he primed his cannon.

Starscream ducked swiftly in an odd, circling motion that matched no Cybertronian martial art. Seeming to move on the air current itself, he almost drifted out of the way of the bolt, then struck out unexpectedly, forcing Megatron to take a hasty step back. Starscream slipped out of reach again, just behind Megatron's shoulder, and whispered the answer to his question.

"To look you in the eyes and bid you farewell, one last time. And now I have. Goodbye, Megatron."

Megatron whirled too quickly to see and sent the Seeker sprawling. "Yes," he remarked, darkly amused, "Goodbye."
He raised his cannon and prepared to fire, noting with detached interest the deep grief in the imposter Starscream's optics. No begging or cries for mercy, only sorrow and something else the tyrant quickly ignored, having no interest in putting a name to the emotion he saw.

He grunted in pain as the payload of a pulse weapon slammed into his side and knocked him off balance.

"Not today, Megatron," Optimus Prime growled, "Not ever."

Description
"What is this?" Megatron squinted at the stranger on the battlefield. He was certainly a Seeker, and in fact he bore a great physical resemblance to Starscream in the way the chassis was shaped, but there the similarities ended.

Where Starscream cowered, the stranger stood tall. And where Starscream would have hunched to protect his spark -- as most Seekers did -- this one seemed to defiantly invite attack as he stood beside Arcee. Blue optics met red and narrowed.

"Starscream," Arcee growled as the otherworldly flyer began to move away from her, "What are you doing? Stick to the plan!"

"I have to face him, Arcee," the young Decepticon leader said calmly. "I need to look into his optics and see for myself that he isn't my Megatron." He turned back just once, to offer her a sparkbreaking smile. "You understand."

Arcee looked away, face tight with an old pain. "You know that I do."

Starscream nodded to her and strode across the battlefield, deftly avoiding Vehicons and Insecticons, as well as the cannonfire of Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers, until he stood no more than three yards from Megatron.

"You wear my brand, Seeker," the tyrant mused, and Starscream winced at the harshness of his voice, "But I do not think you are one of mine!"

After a moment's hesitation, Starscream shook his helm. "No," he agreed quietly, "I don't think I am."

Megatron considered simply shooting the stranger down. It was altogether too uncanny that he resembled Starscream while also having a voice eerily similar to his traitorous second in command. It was as if the universe had taken up all the stunted, forgotten components of the Seeker's personality, scrambled them together with a splash of paint, and spat out a Starscream that was a proper Decepticon if his reaction to the battle was anything to go by. The blue optics were a surprise though.

"What do they call you, Seeker?" he asked with a raised brow. If he didn't like the answer, he could always kill him.

"I am Starscream, though not as you may know him," the young mech answered, and Megatron felt a spear of ice through his spark at the accuracy of his earlier observations.

"What then," he scoffed to hide his sudden unease, "Another clone? I know of no duplicates that change their color scheme to differentiate from their original."

"No, thank Primus!" The blue eyed Starscream shuddered, and the commanding stripes on his wings winked in the light. "It is shame enough that I share a frame and designation with your toadying coward. To share mesh and energon with him would be too great a trial to bear."

At this Megatron laughed, even as Soundwave silently informed him that Optimus and the scout were approaching from the south. He'd guessed that this might be some kind of diversion already, but let them think he was blind to them. He was interested in finding out how the Autobots had got their hands on this alternate Starscream.

"What is your rank, Starscream?" His imperious tone made it quite clear that it was a demand and not a query.

For a moment, Starscream shuttered his optics and let himself pretend. But any longer than a half second would have been too costly and he opened them again. "Lord of the Decepticons, unfortunately," he said coolly. Arcee and Optimus both had warned him of this Megatron -- no, this pretender wearing his skin; Starscream refused to place this being in the same category as his grafted guardian -- and his terrible temper. He was aware that he jealously guarded his title and would never suffer another to hold even similar rank.

Megatron circled closer in the tight, controlled movements of a predator. "My, you are ambitious, aren't you?" he sneered. "I might've guessed your designation by that alone."

The Seeker balanced his weight carefully and eased into a slight crouch, waiting for Optimus to make his move. "You mistake acceptance of circumstance for willing ambition," he scoffed. "Though it won't mean anything to you, I'd give my wings to see the title's proper master restored to me and my faction."

Megatron was taken aback by the emotion and sincerity in the smaller warrior's voice and optics. How disgustingly like an Autobot, he decided, though if this Starscream spoke of another Megatron -- he determined not to think of such impossibilities further as they merely hurt his processor -- then his loyalty was admirable and a welcome contrast to his own second in command.
But he still stood with the Autobots, and therefore he was of no use to Megatron. Except perhaps as a source of information. He send a private signal to Soundwave, instructing him to look for ways to cut off the Seeker from escape.

"Clearly your loyalty to your master was short lived if you've so soon thrown your lot in with Optimus Prime," the warlord said dryly. "If that is indeed the case, I find myself wondering what exactly your purpose here is. Why parlay with me if you are no true Decepticon?"

Starscream flinched at first, then seemed to steel his resolve as Megatron loomed over him. He straightened and let his wings drop a little in slight deference. "Because no one can guarantee the outcome of a battle. In moments, the fighting will intensify, and this will be my last chance."

"To do what?" asked Megatron casually, even as he primed his cannon.

Starscream ducked swiftly in an odd, circling motion that matched no Cybertronian martial art. Seeming to move on the air current itself, he almost drifted out of the way of the bolt, then struck out unexpectedly, forcing Megatron to take a hasty step back. Starscream slipped out of reach again, just behind Megatron's shoulder, and whispered the answer to his question.

"To look you in the eyes and bid you farewell, one last time. And now I have. Goodbye, Megatron."

Megatron whirled too quickly to see and sent the Seeker sprawling. "Yes," he remarked, darkly amused, "Goodbye."
He raised his cannon and prepared to fire, noting with detached interest the deep grief in the imposter Starscream's optics. No begging or cries for mercy, only sorrow and something else the tyrant quickly ignored, having no interest in putting a name to the emotion he saw.

He grunted in pain as the payload of a pulse weapon slammed into his side and knocked him off balance.

"Not today, Megatron," Optimus Prime growled, "Not ever."