So I've noticed the lack of Bots Master fanfics, which is suprising given the variety of themes that can be fleshed out. Maybe it's the lack of fandom... Relationships undisclosed for now, but I am leaning towards jammerzz/toolzz (which is the most obvious ship). The rest you'll have to figure out yourselves. Rating might go up the more violence I add. I'm also on AO3 if you want to read the tags for this fic.
A pair of tall and square shapes scavenge the piles of garbage around an abandoned factory. They don't have to be quick, but they do have to be careful with what they pick up. The factory-slash-research lab belongs to the Robotic Megafact Corporation, which means that any foot in the wrong clearance will bring their mission to a full stop. However abandoned the building might be, it's still under surveillance. It has only been a week since the factory closed and the scrap bots haven't arrived yet to pick up the garbage and the still useful materials it left behind.
The huge piles of scrap metal behind the building are dark in the winter evening, but they know what to look for. They were given a list with robotic components they have to bring home – accompanied by pictures, because the two have as much as an understanding about the internal workings of a robot like the average person has about the human body.
By now their shopping cart is overflowing with limbs and torsos but lacks the technical bits that should make them up and running. The chips and CPUs and the wires are the needles in the scrap heap haystack.
It's beginning to get late, their clocks telling them they have been at it for an hour already. The two of them could dig through garbage all day and night without them noticing time had passed at all, but it was their boss who would get on their case if they didn't return home before daybreak.
"Maybe we should go an' check inside," one of them says. The other turns away from his inspection on complicated looking thingamabobs to his friend with a blank stare. Robots, especially old and outdated ones made from unpolished blocky standard models have very limited facial expressions.
"But how are we gonna get in?" he says.
"Well," the other says and picks up a cylinder block without a grunt. "Like this!"
With a shaky swoop he swings it through a big glass window, the crash loud in the silent night.
"Wow! Super cool! You're like a ninja!" His companion's voice pitches.
"Don't get sassy with me mister, re-re-re."
They help each other through the window and into the wide work place, leaving their shopping cart behind. The space is filled with cleared out conveyor-belts. A single security bot is ambushed and disabled in a second. There's no sight of the tiny compartments they need. One of the two rummages through one of the boxes stacked to the side.
"Hey Jammerzz," he says. "These things look kinda cool. Think we can get ZZ to give him three arms?" He collects a bunch of shiny metal limbs in his four arms. They look pretty crisp and Jammerzz gives him a thumbs up.
"Now you're talkin', Toolzz!"
They don't bother to sneak around the production lines in favor of finishing the job quickly. They pay no attention to the little red lights on security cameras as they inspect an in-case-of-fire map on a door. The guide tells them that if they want to find the stockroom, they should try a few doors to the right. They hobble off.
When Toolzz moves his small round eyes over the twenty rows worth of mechanic materials, he almost drops his loot. "This is too much!" he squeals. "How are we ever gonna find whatever it is that we need in between all of this stuff!"
Jammerzz puts his finger hand on chin and rubs thoughtfully. "Maybe we should rob one of the newer labs. I'm thinkin', they keep track of all the new technology they make, right? We could be searchin' for days here!"
It is certainly a better plan. The other factory in the city worked on the newest models, which means upgraded technology ZZ was able to use on his new Boyzz. Jammerzz and Toolzz gathered that for the particular Boyzz he had in mind he needed more than just the usual internals and standard models. Their baby brother was going to be the fastest, strongest, bestest, smartest Boyzz he has ever created.
On the other hand, infiltrating into a heavily guarded facility such as the RM corp would take a whole lot more time and they were hoping ZZ could have their newest member finished by tomorrow, if they came back early from their scrap hunt and provided he worked really, really hard tonight.
"And put our entire mission in jeopardy?!" Toolzz asks incredulously. "We both know that we were not made to be careful, Jammerzz my good man."
A rough noise escapes from Jammerzz throat like it usually does when he knows Toolzz is right about something. "I guezz…" His voice coder buzzes. "But this ain't helpin' neither!"
He gestures to the rows with his tool hand and puts the other on his hip. "Maybe those big letters up top can help us."
Toolzz looks up at the alphabetically aligned signs on the storage shelves. Of course! Having a wider and higher range of vision, Jammerzz would notice details like that.
He snaps his fingers. "Jammerzz," he says and stares at him like he's the best thing that's ever happened to him. "You're a genius!"
"Heh, don't I know it," he says. "But uh, why again?"
Toolzz, hands full with robot, hobbles over to the row closest to them. The labels on the boxes have a ton of tiny incomprehensible words on them, but the big titles on them correspond to the "A-C" marking on the top tier. Abandoned but sorted. Very nice.
"This is gonna make our search a lot easier," he says.
"Aha! I see," Jammerzz says, the corners of his metallic mouth curving up as much as they can, which is slight. He pumps his fist to his side in a victory sign, then pulls up the piece of paper they have been given. "Let's see. In alphabetical order on the list: Carbon fiber. We got any carbon fiber here?"
They spend the next hours climbing through the rows of marked and unmarked technology, gathering materials from external protection to motherboards until every line is crossed off from their list. There is not a shred of fatigue in their processors as they push over the cart with useless scrap and replace it with their new propitious findings.
"Phew! All in a night's work," Toolzz says.
"Eyep," says Jammerzz. "Not even all night."
They head home.
Twig isn't used to staying awake so late. It's 2 a.m. and he has been put on guard duty just for the act of welcoming the two Street Boyzz home. He groggily opens the door for them when they stomp on the hidden bell in the grass. "Delivery's here!" they yell when the lift door opens. No one wakes at that, the sleeping cycle of the Boyzz being quite thorough and ZZ not allowing anybody to wake up before 7.
"Hello," Twig manages and accepts the hug Toolzz gives him around his broad belly with a pat on the head.
"Whazzup Twig, we finished our gig." Behind him, Jammerzz pushes the shopping cart forwards and disappears in Genesix's laboratory.
"Hey Twig," Toolzz says. "We got some good freakin' parts for him, Twig."
"Language," Twig says, a tad too tired to play babysitter.
"Heh, sorry, but I got a good feeling about him, Twig." He releases his hold and looks up into the bigger Boyzz's visor. He salutes. "G'night Twig."
"G'night Street Boyzz," he says and watches the two link arms and head off to their shared room.
Twig locks up for the second time that night. He flips off all the lights and settles down besides the car in the garage where he puts himself in stasis, finally.