Chapter Text
Storm's optics flickered to life as he emerged from his recharging chamber, the dim glow of the Nemesis's corridors casting long shadows across the metal floor. With a soft whir, he stood, his young frame tense with anticipation. Today, he would seek solace in the presence of his father, Megatron, the towering figure who commanded the Decepticons with an iron will.
As Storm ventured forth, his small steps echoing faintly against the cold metal, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. The stares of his fellow Decepticons bore down on him, laden with disdain and mockery. Their whispers, like venomous hisses, slithered through the air, painting him as a weakling, unworthy of his lineage.
Despite his tender age of seven stellar cycles, Storm had grown accustomed to their scorn. His sensitive spark, quick to bruise beneath the weight of their taunts, threatened to overwhelm him. But he pushed on, determined to confront his father, if only to ease the hunger gnawing at his core.
Finally, he reached the grand chamber where Megatron held court, his father's presence looming like a thundercloud over the assembled Decepticons. Storm hesitated, his spark fluttering nervously within his chest, before mustering the courage to speak.
"Father," he began tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper. "I...I am hungry."
Megatron's optics flashed briefly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he waved a dismissive hand.
"Then fetch sustenance for yourself, Storm," he replied curtly, his voice resonating with authority. "You are old enough to fend for yourself."
Storm's spark sank, a familiar ache blossoming within him. With a resigned nod, he turned on his heel and departed, his steps heavy with disappointment. Ignoring the snickers that followed him like shadows, he made his way to the storage chambers, where the precious energon cubes were kept under lock and key.
Fingers trembling with apprehension, Storm procured a single cube, his optics fixed firmly on the ground. He dared not meet the gaze of his fellow Decepticons, their disdain a weight upon his shoulders.
Retreating to the solitude of his berthroom, Storm sank to the floor, the cool metal providing little comfort. With a resigned sigh, he unwrapped the energon cube, its blue glow casting eerie shadows across the room. Alone in the darkness, he ate in silence, the taste of bitterness lingering on his tongue.
As the echoes of his father's rejection reverberated through his mind, Storm couldn't help but wonder if he would ever earn Megatron's approval. But for now, he was simply a crybaby, lost amidst the thunderous roar of the Decepticon war machine.