The moment Starscream came back to awareness, he realized that he wasn't on Nemesis. It had less to do with the physical surroundings and more to do with the sounds and overall feel. There was no familiarity. For as often as he'd dragged himself down to Med Bay, he knew the whirs and blips and what have you to the point of memorization.

Not to mention that Hook would be in his face whining at him before he'd even woken up, or Knockout would be frowning, scanning him with annoyance, making sure his glitch didn't show up unannounced. Routine.

He could feel paranoia settling in, and he pushed it back with a grimace. This, however, would be a rather large test, tied down as he was by stasis cuffs. Were the surroundings not so alarming, he probably would be reduced to a screaming, tantrum-y wreck.

He was on edge, though. And the alien layout of the room was mostly to blame. It wasn't Nemesis, nor was it the ARK. He knew what the Autobot ship looked like: Gaudy orange colored, but distinctly Iaconian design with a few Praxian influences. This room was obviously a human facility, large enough for Cybertronians of even larger builds to stand with room to spare. The human devices he could spy were small replicas of their larger Cybertronian versions, while further and higher up were devices of seemingly human origin in Cybertronian scale.

He frowned, wings twitching beneath him. Prisoner of unknown captives in an unknown and… he glared; underground facility for unknown reasons that only hinted at things he didn't want to think about. What the frag had happened anyway?

Suddenly he realized he wasn't in very decent shape. Errors that he'd been ignoring to the point of not even realizing they were present lit up his HUD and parts of his body either felt on fire or numb. "One pit of a crash…" he croaked, wincing at the sound of his already scratchy voice laced with static. It stung to speak. And his comm. was disabled.

Crash. From how he felt, there was no doubting the cause. But how? He prided himself on his reflexes, acrobatics and observation. Sure, he'd crashed before, but usually from a combination of being shot down by heavy artillery fire, taken by surprise and Skywarp being unable to respond to get him/the Trine out of the danger zone.

Starscream almost growled. His helm hurt.

So, where was he? If he'd gone down, he'd done so surrounded by either Decepticons or Autobots, as, he did vaguely remember a battle. They had just taken up Special Tactics, in fact, finally able to expend the effort thanks to an increase in Energon stores. His fiery optics narrowed and he shuddered.

Something… Someone… one of his Seekers… they had sideswiped him high above the ground battle. That was why he hadn't reacted. Or why Skywarp hadn't picked up on the danger. The need to hadn't been expected.

Why had Dirge's flight path varied? Dirge was far from Elite material, but he was a better flier now than he'd been at the start of the war. After so much time flying with the Conehead Trine, both teams knew each other better than most would even realize. They could predict each other's moves without needing to read the subtle cues all fliers used in flight. And that hadn't been an accidental or glancing blow.

Wing taps and small scrapes were understandable and unavoidable. Especially if you weren't paying complete attention to the immediate air around you. And yet… while Dirge had recovered significantly over the last few weeks, he was far from ready to be put into a firefight. He wasn't comfortable in his new position, and far from comfortable without his Trine. But a full on collision? At the speeds they'd been flying?

He groaned. He had to get out of this place and question Dirge himself if he wanted answers. Was Dirge here also? He raised his helm with a scowl, glancing around. Angry and half tempted as he was to leave him here if he was, it wasn't… as Command Point, he couldn't do such a thing. Not in this scenario. He'd be scrapped if he left one of his only remaining Seekers in an underground facility. Escape would be most difficult.

Could he himself even fly? His HUD indicated severe damage to his right thruster and wing. Superficial scrapes and scratches littered his frame, but while he'd had worse, some were over vital flaps and stabilizers that were often detrimental in flight. One even had a fatal error, suggesting it was completely inoperable. He really shouldn't be able to fly. But if he could get off the ground, he would. All he had to do was get free and find Dirge.

He'd broken out of some pretty crazy scenarios while on Megatron's bad side over the vorns. This would be no different. Confident, he tested his bindings. They weren't stasis cuffs. But they were of Cybertronian make. He frowned slightly. Medical restraints. That could be problematic. Nothing was more tricky than medical restraints. Everything had a weak point, but those had always given him trouble.

He moved his arm, trying to gage the strength. Not overly powerful. That was good, at least. Whoever his captors were didn't realize his many talents. But they still lay close on his frame. Over each arm, leg and one big one over his cockpit. There wasn't much wiggle room.

The sound of humans broke his concentration. It was a unique sound to the species. A mix of their version of a fuel pump, whispered breaths and squishes. He turned to face them, full strength behind his glare. They stared back from behind goggles and glasses and masks, each individual member armed with multiple weapons. He had to admit. They were prepared little vermin. The weaponry he recognized as a caliber capable of piercing Cybertronian outer armor.

"Ah. My apologies," the voice drew his attention from the humans. Spoken Cybertronian. It was a rare sound these days. Starscream frowned, suddenly wondering when it was they had taken on the primary Human language of English in their daily lives.

The mech was canary yellow and a blue that reminded him of the ocean around Nemesis, woven in designs around his frame. A Cybertronian tattoo. The mech was from Altihex. Which, upon belated realization, explained why the human facility had decidedly Altihex influences… There was a faded, but present sigil on the mech's chassis. Decepticon. "I had not realized that you had come online just yet." He smirked down at Starscream.

The Seeker replied in kind. "You realize that you have sealed your Death Warant by deciding it a good idea to keep me alive as a prisoner, yes?" His vocals may have been scrapped, but he was still able to say it with every ounce of baring he possessed, resulting in a deadly, velvety purr. It was a sound that would have had Megatron himself on edge and at the ready with his fusion cannon.

This mech stupidly waved him off as if it were of no consequence. "So long as you are a guest in our little abode, I do not think I will have a problem." He glanced toward something in front of him out of Starscream's sight.

"Better hope I do not get free then," the tri-colored Seeker Commander spat, wriggling his fingers in emphasis. Whether the mech saw it or not, he didn't know or care at the moment. He was too focused on trying to ID the mech. Obviously he'd not seen this mech since Nemesis left Cybertron all those long millennia ago, but even then, he couldn't really recall who this was. Either way, kidnapping a higher officer would result in death. Especially if it was Starscream on the receiving end.

"He will not get loose. Not from those restraints. And who would come for his sorry aft?" That was a different voice, and it made him jump despite himself. The boisterous laughter didn't help his anxiety. "Traitor of a Seeker. It's a shock he's still online as it is."

"Hey! English for those of us who don't speak Alien!" a human voice called from the gaggle.

"Pathetic humans," the mech currently out of Starscream's sight mocked. The one he could see rolled his faded pink tinted optics, but turned to them with an easy smile. It was a smile that, were he not already so, would have put Starscream on edge.

"I beg your forgiveness, friends. I'm sure you understand the difficulties of second languages."

"Not really an excuse. You came here. You use the language." What an insolent little human. Any self-respecting Decepticon would have stomped on it. But the visible mech merely nodded.

"Right. We will be sure to speak so that you can understand."

"You do that." Starscream couldn't keep the snide rebellion from his tone. "I will keep to my own language."

"Speak English for our friends, would you?"

"Frag off. I do not speak it." The Air Commander grinned. "However, if you really do not like my speaking standard, I can switch to Seeker Cant. Although, you have no idea what I am saying, and you do not deserve to hear it."

"What did he say?" the missing mech asked, confusion evident. "It is hard enough keeping up with the human's awful racket."

"Hey!"

"My apologies," annoyance was now tangible. It made Starscream feel smug, if only for such a small victory. "My companions are being stubborn. I'll be sure to correct the infractions. For now, I ask for time with our guest to get him… situated."

The humans made a noise Starscream couldn't determine. "Just be sure we get the call when you're ready to go." The human who spoke, Starscream couldn't see him, but he audibly sneered.

"Of course, Sylus." The Seeker mentally grimaced. This did not bode well for things to come.

S/N: I hope that piece went well enough. I was supposed to get this out last week, but I've been slacking on the typing. Anyway, I realized at the end here, that I've put Prime references in the last two chapters. Not terrible, right? As far as Sylus goes… is that how you spell his name? I know of CYLUS or something like that, but that's robo dude. Feedback would be amazing!