This is a rewrite of a trash fanfic I wrote in grade school on . I only ever watched Prime. I wanted to go for RID, but I found it to be trash. You find this to be casual fan fuckery but try it, please. Review please!
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Prime was gone. Predaking only regretted the loss of the mech because of what he was now stuck with.
He wasn't sentimental over the Prime. He did not mourn the Prime. However, he would've much rather would have liked to work with the Prime than Ultra Magnus who had taken to waving his claw hand at any who defied his orders. Ultra Magnus was gruff, stoic, and—in Predaking's optics—far too entitled and annoying. Ultra Magnus had gotten to thinking that Predaking was someone he could order around to help with the rebuilding of Cybertron. He was very mistaken, and Predaking was about to teach him so by biting off his other hand until the scout had intervened.
As the planet started being repopulated Predaking found himself becoming a spectacle for the returning bots. Decepticons and Autobots, now at a strange tense peace, looked at him with confusion. Some showed fear in their optics; some had curiosity. Despite this, none had ever approached. Predaking was thankful. He much rather watch from afar then be pestered by the mechs.
With the movement of Cybertron's plates the buildings that had been in any state of salvageability were destroyed. The settlement had begun from the ground up, and Predaking had to say it was becoming a standard community. Though the influx of returnees was slow, it was steady. The returning Decepticons and Autobots were tense with one another and lived in different parts of the settlement, but as of yet, no bot had been killed. Some fights had spilled a large amount of energon, but no spark had been snuffed. Yet.
The population of Predaking's race was growing as well. Once the locations of Shockwave's labs were all discovered there had been eight Predacons in various stages of cloning. Ultra Magnus and his Autobots had gotten the information from Shockwave and were the ones to find the lab and initially had kept them secret from Predaking. However, trying to stay on amicable terms with Predaking they did not destroy the clones, but an uneasy deal was crafted. No more Predacons would be cloned than those already in the process. However, those in the process would be allowed to reach either viability or maturity depending on their stage of development. While Predaking did not like this deal, he did not have the knowledge to clone his brethren himself, and in that aspect, Predaking relied on the Autobots. The bots had agreed that something would be decided later as to whether cloning was to resume, but first, they needed their technicians working on providing stability to the settlement. Predaking could not fight it. He had hope in the fact that more of his kind would arrive soon.
Of eight Predacons discovered six in were maturity stages while two were in the fetal. The bots had felt it cruel to force the Predacons into premature adulthood with no other stage in life before adult. The two Predacons in the fetal stages would be released once viability was achieved. The bots had explained to Predaking that it would be a good thing for the race. Not only were there adult members of their kind but there would also be young sparklings. That was an opportunity for growth, they said. Predaking thought that instead of that they much rather wanted to deal with nine adult Predacons instead of eleven. Their promises always seemed soaked poison.
Predaking, Skylynx, and Darksteel were preparing their refuge. The ruins that the Autobots thought were better to tear down and rebuild were shelter sites for the Predacons. They made great shelters, perch, and were both safe landing and takeoff points. Caves that had been unearthed from the moving of the plates were also dens. They provided safe sleep and darkness in the ever-lit world.
Of course, a den could not always be used, and now Predaking sat in the opening of one of Shockwave's labs. He spent most of his time at this lab watching over it as it was the closest to the settlement. Moving the single clone here was too risky as it was too early in development. Too much trauma on the containment cell might cause it to abort. It was still half a stellar cycle away from viability, and for the remaining stellar cycle, Predaking remained as the guard.
Although the lab was close to the settlement, causing unease, Predaking could find himself enjoying himself being kept occupied listening to others. The Predacon's senses picked up on the happenings in the settlement that were in the range of his Predacon senses. He heard the steady hum of new buildings being welding and made into homes. A distance away scraplets were retreating after Predaking had killed most of their numbers near the lab when he had encountered them. Farther off two mechs were talking, having had gotten privacy from the settlement but not from Predaking's audio sensors. Predaking often wished he could tune out their words that made him cringe. If only.
Ways away the Scout was sitting on a rubble pile talking to one of the humans on Earth in a chat. They talked of those left behind, and those nearly returned, and the Scout promised to find a way to bring the human to Cybertron once it was rebuilt and glorified. Due to the Spacebridge, it didn't feel as if Earth were many lightyears away. Predaking didn't miss Earth. It was dirty and unnatural.
The hum of Primus beneath him was what Predaking focused on. He was growing accustomed to hearing the steady lifeforce in his sensors. He tuned out everything except for the lull of the planet beneath him and the form in the cloning chamber. He could hear each of the Predacon's processors testing its abilities as it formed. It would move at times, clawing at the container with small servos before lulling back into a state of almost-sleep. At times Predaking couldn't believe he was going to have a creature so small and vulnerable in his kind's care.
Slowly Predaking's systems began to offline as his body shifted into a state of recharge, but not entirely. His optics unfocused just enough so the light of the settlement blurred into a haze.
Predaking let his processor stray. What might his society become once it had grown? How might it grow? How might their civilization be? He could imagine their glory one day, a high population, cities, young and old. He imagined great large families with expanding relations.
One day. One day, he knew.
Drifting off Predaking was pulled out of his thoughts due to the distinct noise of pedes hitting the metal floor. Heavy pedes. Predaking repowered his offline systems that had faded to recharge and set himself into a defensive position. Whoever was approaching was apparently making noise to signal his or her presence, but that did not mean he wasn't coming on unfriendly terms.
Appearing from the distance came Ultra Magnus. Behind him was the scout and then the large pot-bellied wrecker. Predaking had his fire ready and moved to block the entrance to the lab. He bared his fangs and stood poised waiting to spring them if they approached too close.
As they neared, the Autobots held up their servos. Ultra Magnus approached a little closer until Predaking growled at a step too close.
"Easy, Predacon." Ultra Magnus cautioned.
The word infuriated Predaking. He transformed out of his beat mode and remained defensive.
"My name is Predaking." He hissed.
"And I apologize," Ultra Magnus responded. "We do not come provoking any altercations. We need your assistance. We came to ask as not a foe, but hopefully allies."
Predaking crossed his arms. "We are not on good terms as of now Ultra Magnus, in case you did not recall our last meeting."
"Oh, I remember," Ultra Magnus huffed, clicking his claw. "However, Cybertron does not need more feuding and rivalries. We wish to forge an alliance between our two kinds. I am an Autobot, half of those in the settlement are Decepticon, and of course, you are Predacon. The fact we all forget is that we are all Cybertronians. We all call this planet home, and we all must work together to craft a society of tolerance and peace."
Predaking growled but said no more. The scout came forward when he apparently saw the conversation going nowhere.
"We came to ask for your help," the mech said. "This situation we need your help in also might have information on Predacons you do not know."
"What can there be that I as a Predacon cannot know?" Predaking growled.
The scout cringed. "I worded that wrong. Not instinctually, but historically." Predaking tilted his head in interest causing the scout to continue. "We recently discovered the remains of the Iacon Hall of Records. It is buried in rubble from Cybertron's moving plates when the planet was restored. A lot of information remains in the building because there was no feasible way to access them after Cybertron went dark. Now that Cybertron is once again alive we can access those records, but— "the scout looked over Predaking— "we lack any machinery that can handle the job. Not even bots like Bulkhead here can move the rubble on their own."
The potbellied mech grunted. Predaking was not amused.
"So, you wish to use me like a pack animal?"
"No." Ultra Magnus responded. "Predaking I understand you distrust us but do not take everything in its worst way. One of our Autobots was a guard to Alpha Trion, the last of the Thirteen who watched over the Hall of Records. Our comrade said parts of the building contain records that were not accessed by the public. These files were left behind by Decepticons. Those were records about Cybertron's history and most likely contained information about your kind. We do not need those files, and you do with them as you wish if you help us."
Predaking was clearly intrigued. "When, if I was to accept, would you need my assistance?"
"Within the next two days if possible. We have cleared most of the rubble." The scout spoke. "If you were to accept," he added, "we ask to meet at about fifty kliks away to the east."
Ultra Magnus and his comrades turned to leave. "That is if you were to accept."
"I will think about it," Predaking told them. The bots excused themselves and left, and Predaking followed them until they were out of range of his sensors.
He mused over it. Where was the harm in it? He even had a chance to show his might to the Autobot and Decepticon arrivals.
He once again let his system power off focusing on the world around him. The Autobots returned to camp speaking with concerned engineers. The scout collected his things where had left them and returned to his home. The scraplets were eating through abandoned metal. Predaking quickly pulled in his range when he heard the two mechs' conversation taking an intimate—rather physical—turn. He focused on closer things. He felt the steady hum of Cybertron. The tiny Predacon stretched its little limbs within its cloning chamber and almost seemed to yawn.
It was a fleck of life in a sea of rust.