Chapter Text
The Decepticon Crypt was Interestingly circular.
Despite leadership being extremely important to Decepticons and usually concentrated in one mech above all others, in death, they were honored without preferential treatment. No one held a place or higher honor than the other, as a circle had no sides, front, or back. It couldn't even be implied based on context, as generally, the rule was if there was space then that’s where the new statue went.
Perhaps then it was the people that were included? Bloodron and Murdron were obvious choices; their runs as Decepticon leaders had been infamous. Thundercracker was an interesting, surprising addition, being not a leader at all. Megatron was a little more surprising since the mech that had his frame was currently walking around, sometimes remembering his past life and sometimes not.
Currently, Starscream was a ghost and was staring at his own pedestal, contemplating.
He had been included, which was something. Not everyone who had died in recent memory made their way in here, to be lauded in death and even mourned. Part of him had been surprised they had even suggested it and began to build him from the ground up.
But Galvatron had forbidden his statue to be finished.
Starscream narrowed his optics, heaving a great ghostly sigh.
Not removed. Just left it unfinished. It was humiliating in a way he couldn’t describe.
He heard them talk about it later. They all thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. They speculated that Galvatron didn’t want statues built to traitors, but that was a laugh, because what Decepticon leader hadn’t betrayed the one they replaced at some point? It was practically a rite of passage.
But they didn’t remove his statue dedicated to his legs. They kept it there almost as if to hope someone in the future wouldn’t wonder at his absence from the tomb and add him back in anyway. It was the first sign of being counted as lesser.
A blight in this crypt of equality.
Starscream noticed no one came to mourn him. The thought was sobering, but unsurprising given that Galvatron probably forbid it. He was sure the lines to pay their respect would be out the door if that awful mech hadn’t decreed it a crime.
… that had to be it. Anything else was unconscionable.
The crypt was dark except for a single urn in the middle that held a single flame. Its light cast eerie shadows on the whole room, making it seem like he was among the living. Blooron gesticulating wildly about something. Murdron taking a step off his pedestal. Thundercracker shaking his helm in disappointment. Megatron laughing.
It was all an illusion of course. There was no sound down here as the mechs themselves weren’t here. Just their likenesses, placed here for people to reflect.
Starscream had done a lot of reflecting.
He needed to learn how to make Galvatron’s life a living hell.