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Published:
2025-08-15
Updated:
2025-10-11
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7,971
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3/?
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K-Pop Decepticon Hunters

Chapter 2: Will He Let the Fire Go Out?

Summary:

After Megatron grows frustrated with the lack of progress on C4M1NUX, Starscream proposes an alternate way to take the popstars down.

Notes:

I love a nuanced depiction of Megatron as much as the next gal (literally got into the fandom because of TFO), but that’s, uh, not going to happen here. Just putting that out there right now

Shoutout to that one person on Tumblr that suggested I make the Decepticons sparkeaters when I was trying to figure out the lore, it didn’t end up working out but it was a sick concept

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Decepticons’ ship, the Nemesis, was, more than anything, large. Winding corridors, generous arms stores, room for legions of foot soldiers, all scattered across the warship hovering just outside of Earth’s orbit. And one of the biggest advantages of its size, besides the obvious, was simple: privacy.

So even though the mess halls and bunks and wash racks rang with the laughter of off-duty soldiers, the swears of overeager card players, and the whispers of ambitious future officers, the Nemesis’s throne room contained only thick, tense silence.

Megatron sat with his cannon extended on his lap, peering at the trembling Vehicon by his pedes. Dark chassis sparking with multitudes of deep gashes, the thin cut on his neck cables screamed of failure louder than any voice could. When enough kliks had passed to determine that the faceless soldier had no intention of breaking the silence, Megatron spoke.

“They got away?”

The Vehicon jerked in surprise, his trembling growing more intense. “Y-yes, my lord.”

“Your ally went offline?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“The two of you couldn’t handle three human femmes?”

“They… they are crafty, my lord. Quick. Strong.”

Megatron shook his helm disdainfully. “Tell me, soldier, what is your designation?”

“Razortrack, sir.”

The end of Megatron’s cannon blossomed with fire. Falling to the ground, the soldier's frame made a loud clang, helm echoing the sound as it hit a far wall.

“Soundwave,” said the warlord, “tell Razortrack’s commanding officer that he will no longer be reporting for duty.”

The communications specialist stirred from his silent spot at Megatron’s right servo, twitching slightly as though to refamiliarize his joints with movement. His visor flashed.

“The message: has been sent, Lord Megatron.”

Slumping on his throne, Megatron let out a deep groan and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he said. “How hard can it be to capture three Autobots in human disguises?!”

“Femmes: could be utilizing support from the Ark.”

“No, no, the reports have consistently emphasized they’re on their own.”

Megatron sighed. “Entertainers. Human entertainers. What use could Prime possibly have for such an inane waste of resources?”

“Possibility: gathering human allies.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But if we can’t capture the femmes for interrogation–”

The doors cut him off with a whirr, figure leaning in the frame making Megatron groan.

“Starscream,” he ground out.

“Good to see you too,” the Seeker said. Moving into the room, afterburners softly clicking against the metal floor, he glanced at the still steaming helm of Razortrack. “Bad news?”

“None that concerns you.”

“On the contrary,” Starscream responded in a voice as greasy as the fresh polish adorning his frame, “I was informed that you failed at another attempt to capture—what do they call themselves? C4M1NUX?”

Megatron’s cannon rose swiftly, his faceplate twisted in a scowl. “Of all the insolent—“

“I’m here to propose an alternate strategy,” Starscream said, holding his servos up as the end of the cannon bumped a dark vent adorning his faceplate. They’d done this song and dance before, long enough for him to know exactly when he overstepped.

“Talk quickly,” said Megatron.

“We may not know what the Autobots are after, but we do know what they’re gaining: fans. Fame. Lucrative brand partnerships, if the pictures they’ve posted are any indication.”

“Decepticons: have no need for human currency,” Soundwave said in a colder monotone than usual.

Starscream waved a servo. “Not important. I’m trying to say that the Autobots are getting visible benefits from all this. Benefits that have—so far—been unchallenged.”

“Do you have a point, or are you talking to hear your own voice again?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Starscream said with a grin.

With a snap of his digits, four more Seekers shuffled into the room, lining up behind Starscream in a multicolored array. Yellow, blue, purple, and green, some faces smiling, others scowling.

Starscream struck a pose. The others followed suit.

Megatron squinted. “What am I looking at?”

“Korea’s newest hit boyband,” Starscream said confidently.

The warlord paused to process. Then he burst out laughing.

“You? By the Pits, Starscream, most of your ideas are terrible, but this beats them all!”

“Soundwave didn’t seem to agree,” Starscream said smugly.

Megatron twisted his helm around. “What?!”

Soundwave didn’t flinch, but something in his bearing seemed to sag. “Starscream: approached the cassettes first. Rumble and Frenzy: fans of Korean popular music. Soundwave: was forced to assist.”

“Ravage and Laserbeak liked it too,” Starscream added. “And with all their help, we were able to rig up what we think they’re using to disguise themselves.”

He snapped his digits again. This time, each of the five frames buzzed with electricity. Within kliks, the Seekers shrank, light fizzing about their frames until five young human men stood where the Cybertronians had been, each wearing immaculately beautiful streetwear that matched their hair colors and paint jobs. The one in the center, dark-haired with an unmistakable smirk, chuckled.

“The wonders of modern technology. Using devices affixed to our person, we’re able to mass-displace with very little effort—add on the holoforms projected on top, and we’re indistinguishable from humans. A debut song has already been produced, and the revenue from that should keep us from having to borrow Decepticon shanix,” Starscream said. His hands ran subtly over the new expanse of crimson shirt and sturdy pants, as though even the most experienced member hadn’t gotten used to the feel of fabric.

“If you’d asked for money, I would have ripped out your voice box,” Megatron growled. “I still might. What do the rest of your Seekers have to say about this?”

“Anything to help the Elite Trine!” Nova Storm chirped with a smile that didn’t reach his wide eyes.

“Most of the Trine, anyway,” Thundercracker said under his breath. “Some of us aren’t so enthusiastic.”

Skywarp threw an arm around his shoulders and laughed hard enough to show off glittering white canines. “C’mon, TC, don’t be such a spoilsport! It’ll be fun!”

Megatron looked to the last Seeker, whose frown hadn’t moved even through the transformation.

“Acid Storm?”

“Starscream is very… persuasive,” the green-haired man said curtly.

Megatron nodded. “And Ion Storm is…?”

“Not interested,” Nova answered. “Besides, he’s never been able to keep his trap shut, he would have been a PR nightmare.”

“That’s disrespectful,” Acid chided, “but not wrong. He’s content with his position in the ranks and threatened to reveal us if he had been forced.”

Starscream rolled his eyes. “Ion Storm doesn’t matter. Another blue one would have messed up the color coordination, anyway.”

“Five-person groups aren’t uncommon,” Thundercracker added. “And we’ve all done enough research on human culture to blend, so that won’t be an issue.”

“Won’t be an issue,” Megatron scoffed. “You’re proposing to compete with the Autobot femmes without knowing what the true prize is.”

“Not much of an ask, it’s not like we’ll be putting our lives in danger,” Starscream snorted.

“And you—“ Megatron turned his helm to the man, patience visibly draining by the klik. “Let me see if I have this straight. You want to take four of my best Seekers, three of whom have valuable Outlier abilities, and start a human band with them, which has no guarantee of success, no visible benefits for the war effort, and a very good chance of revealing our existence to humanity!”

“Not to mention we’ll get ripped apart on Twitter if Sky can’t get our choreo down,” Thundercracker interjected. Skywarp reached over to swat him lightly.

As he leaned forward, Megatron’s cannon warmed with warning. “Give me one good reason why I should refrain from sending you to the medibay for your audacity.”

“Well…” Starscream murmured, smirk freezing on his face. Almost human muscles tensed imperceptibly beneath his clothes. “It’ll keep me out of HQ for at least a few astrocycles. I’ll be radio silent. And with all of my energy focused on being a popstar, I probably won’t have much time to advance my newest fifteen usurpation plots…”

Megatron paused. Thought it out. Sighed.

“Fine.”

Silently, Acid Storm handed Nova Storm five shanix. The Seeker commander clasped his hands together and took a step backward. “You’re wise to see the advantages of my proposition. Now–”

“I’m not finished.”

“What?”

“What do you get out of this?” he asked, derma curling. “Your positions on humanity aren’t exactly a secret.”

“Yes, um—” Starscream said, “I’ve turned over a new sheet, as it were, about the flesh– about the humans. What’s more appealing than the worship of thousands of lesser– thousands of itty-bitty organic lifeforms?”

“Very well,” said Megatron, who didn’t sound like he believed him. “But know that I have the authority to end this little gallivant at any time, and the cassettes will report on your behavior when necessary. You still answer to me, Starscream. Do not forget your place.”

Dropping into a deep bow, Starscream looked up at the now-gigantic warlord with a small grin. For the briefest of moments, his dark eyes flashed Decepticon red.

“As you wish, Lord Megatron.”

Notes:

turned over a new sheet… get it… like sheet metal… Anyway, the last image of Starscream bowing was partly inspired by this sick fanart I found on Tumblr