After a good two weeks without, the mystery of the missing plush — err… bomb, he meant bomb, Starscream had not spent resources searching the Nemesis for a plush, nope — was solved as the Seeker ransacked his own rooms in a fit of rage. Burning fury raced through his spindly limbs, only to be pushed outward in field and actions. Items were strewn across the floor, the few table surfaces overturned. And still, it wasn’t enough; the Seeker paced and paced and paced, around and around.
He spotted it at last, optics burning overly bright as his gaze landed on the white and red fabric. The plush was yanked from its hiding place and examined thoroughly before Starscream hissed in frustration. Oh, how he hated Knock Out with a burning passion….
A klik or two passed like this before the Seeker threw himself beneath his berth, muttering obscenities and miniature rants to himself as he curled around the plush. The anger faded into a roiling dismay, then a pulsing emptiness. Vents calmed, and optics cycled once or twice as he took in the destruction of his rooms.
He had caused that.
Starscream would pick up the pieces of his destruction after his recharge cycle — for now, he would remain in his hiding place, limbs wrapped around the plush form of his former friend.
Recharge never came easy. Why would now be any different?