Not What I Wanted Today (Starscream)

If Starscream kept a list of things he hated to do, it would have quadrupled since he’d be stuck on earth. He had one but it had been so short before it had been easy to keep track of it. Now it kept evolving, changing, growing so he gave up. Like so many other things.

Still, he knew that using a Holoform was in his top five. He hated the flesh sacks, their fragility and how many of them are crawling over the ball of dirt.

He also missed the speed. The rush of having to make rapid decisions that could be fatal, escaping danger by the paint on his armor, speed. So he took on a stupid Holoform and had started to use the primitive F1 racing simulator begrudgingly. He was at what the flesh sacks called a ‘bar’, feeding tokens to a maching that used less processor power than what it took for him to bend one digit.

He had tried a flight simulator once, giddily, only to be supremely disappointed by the flaws in it. He’d ate his spark before admitting that the real reason was because he missed flying so much. So he stuck to the F1 one, driving at speed humans considered fast and tried to stay content with that.

Starscream hadn’t realized spending time, even in a remote bar, with the flesh bags, would eventually attract stupid autobots in his path. There was a few good reasons to volunteer, maybe gather some information, find out if there’s a base nearby. Against going to help, there was the risk this was a trap.

Who would be dumb enough to not admit that they had a flat tire, but they also needed help? Autobots apparently. Since the occasion was too good to pass, Starscream got up from the simulator, walking nonchalantly toward the Autobot.

“I can lend a hand.”

Starscream made his way toward the Autobot with a non chalant stride, following him outside. He’s smiling, a true, genuine smile. The information he could gleam from this would be priceless. Once they stop outside, Starscream extends is hand in the flesh bag greeting fashion.

“Name’s Peter, Sir! Huge fan of the Autobots. I love fast cars, speed, racing and Formula One, so it’s a pleasure to help!”

In his infinite boredom, he had researched extensively about car racing and he was confident enough that he could handle the task.
He stood there with a relaxed pose and an easy smile, letting the Autobot do things on his own time. Starscream had plenty of time. He filed away in his databank that a base was not too far from where they are.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, Sir, what happened to your tire? I might be able to fix it so you don’t have to put the spare on.”

Shaking the hand with enthusiasm, Starscream hoped his fan-ish facade would hold up. There was some truth in what he said, he does enjoy speed and racing, however it’s usually in the air… Stuck on Dirt Ball, he had turned toward car racing and had started to genuinely enjoy it. The Seeker had read as much as he could on it and had even looked into becoming a mechanic.

What would be better to try and infiltrate the stupid Autobots, than to pass as a harmless human wanting to help?

But that’s for later, he had to focus on his task.

“Well, humans have a trick. I’ll show you! See that convinience store over there? Most of these sell patches and glue that can repair tires. If you know what you’re doing it’s fairly easy. I’ll show you how to use it, keep a spare kit and you’ll never be stranded anywhere, or need to ask for help!”

He started to head over there, stomping a bit harder than he would, having decided his ‘Peter’ persona was a ‘manly man’ that liked cars and would stomp. ‘I’m an excellent spy’ he repeated in his head as a mantra to stay focused on his gait.

Starscream cursed himself for the slip up. Thankfully he had a back up plan for his slippage and he turned around when the shadow behind him grew, his smile falling. He immediately switched into fearful mode. He threw his holoform hands up and closed his eyes, shaking on the spot.

“S-sorry Sir, English is n-not my f-first language. I am a-an immigrant. Name’s Pierre Coursier, my p-pick up truck is r-right there.”

Starscream made a gesture towards the beat up old truck he had registered a licence for.

“Driver’s lisence is in t-the truck, Sir.”

He was shaking like a leaf but he knew it would help his disguise.

Starscream cracked open one eye, seeing that Wheeljack was holding his holoform driver lisence. Thank Primus he had been bored one day and decided to perfection his ‘undercover’ human role. Pierre Coursier was a rip off of one of his favourite F1 driver. His only mistake had been that no humans in the vicinity could pronounce ‘Pierre’. The barman had started to call him Peter, explaining that it was the regional dialect equivalent of his name.

“Everyone ‘round here call me Peter because Pierre is hard to say for English people. Can’t even begin to tell you how they butcher my last name.”

He chuckled, relaxing a little but still holding his hands up in the air in a peaceful manner.

“If you look into the glove box, Sir, you’ll the left over from my patch kit in there. I’m out of patches, just the glue is left. That’s why I need to do a quit pit stop at the convenience store. I can use a back up too, anyway.”