Chapter 2 – Embellished
When Starscream was not exploring the galaxies, his work quarters served as a place of escape and contemplation. He had always preferred his niche in the basement over the bright-lit spacious rooms on the upper floors of Crystal City's Academy of Sciences. This was where he began his career as an intern, eventually working his way up into the ranks, specialising in interstellar navigation and cartography.
A colleague or two from the upper floors would occasionally surprise him with their presence, only to be greeted with the sight of him immersed in the red and purple glow of holographic screens displaying maps of faraway and neighbouring galaxies. Partially-sentient computers as old as Cybertron beeped softly in the background, awaiting his instructions.
When asked if he would leave the basement in favour of a bigger and more respectable work environment, Starscream would tell them that, "These computers, although primitive, have become an integral part of my life's work. And my life remains here, where progression and productivity thrive in solitude."
Seeing he was not in need of company, they would leave and mutter something about him growing distant and always never being the same after an expedition. Some had speculated he was suffering from 'space madness', while others would simply brush it off, stating that eccentricity had always been a common trait amongst their basement-dwelling colleagues.
Perhaps Starscream was suffering—but mostly for the greater good of Cybertron. The more isolated he became, the more his scientific contributions benefited the development of space bridges, connecting Cybertronians stationed in off-world industrial cities and military bases closer to home.
The planet was growing vibrant than ever before. And for that, he felt, was worth the sacrifice.
.
.
"Well, if it isn't Dr. Starscream."
Starscream squinted as bright light—something he was still getting used to after spending millenniums exploring through the darkness of space—flooded his optics.
If he had not heard the strange noises echoing down the hallway and felt the occasional vibration pulse through the floor of his work quarters, he would never have passed through the steel doors of the laboratory at the opposite end of the basement. He would not have met the engineer who was now standing a few feet away from him and donning a pair of heavy-duty safety goggles.
"Yes," replied Starscream. "How did you know?"
"Allow me to introduce myself," said the engineer. "The name's Knock Out: bodywork specialist and assistant to Chief Scientist Dr. Shockwave. We've been neighbours for so long yet never had the privilege of meeting! What brings you to our laboratory?"
Rumours, Starscream had wanted to say, about Shockwave's grisly experiments on interns and alien cadavers. "Well, I—" he paused, momentarily distracted by the glint of the engineer's buzz saw that was attached to his right appendage. He took an apprehensive step back as Knock Out approached closer. "I have been hearing some strange noises..." Starscream let out a terrified gasp at the sound of the engineer's saw retracting to a set of talons.
"Oh." Knock Out pulled the goggles over his head, revealing a striking pair of crimson optics. His facial features were well-constructed and beyond what Starscream had imagined. He was not expecting for Knock Out to look—for want of a better word—charming. "The drones have been working on calibrating and repairing the machinery in the lab," explained the engineer. "I truly apologise if my operations are distracting you from your work, Dr. Starscream."
"Please," said Starscream as he accepted Knock Out's apology with a dismissive wave of his servo. "The formal exchange of honorifics isn't necessary among faculty members. Just promise me you'll keep the noise to a minimum this time, hmm?" With that, the winged scientist clasped his servos behind his back and turned toward the doors.
But Knock Out was not ready to see him leave. No one from the faculty had ever visited him in the laboratory. And knowing how elusive Starscream was, he would hate to let the opportunity to get to know his neighbour slip away. "Ah...Starscream. Could I interest you in a tour around the lab? If you have the time, that is."
Starscream halted in his tracks and turned to look at the engineer whose optics seemed to be pleading for him to stay.
"Why, of course," he said, feigning a smile to mask his growing curiosity. "I...would very much like that."
.
.
Despite his suspicion and the rumours circulating about Knock Out's work relationship with the notorious and mysterious Shockwave, Starscream was growing to enjoy the engineer's company. The seeker had never been this intrigued by a grounder whose eloquence, intelligence and magnetism, (attributes Starscream would never admit to liking about Knock Out), were too impressive to be left unchallenged.
Starscream was also aware of the lies the faculty had been spreading about him. Since his expedition partner Hybrid's death, professors from the upper floors had been talking about how Starscream had been mourning for too long he was losing grip on reality. Another rumour, which happened to be partly true, was about him carrying an alien virus he had caught from the last space expedition fifty meta-cycles ago. His colleagues had stopped visiting the basement ever since, fearing it might be contagious.
"Let them talk," said Knock Out. "All the gossiping seems to be encouraging a growing influx of students to the lab. That covers the rental fees, leaving me with more than enough creds to start investing in some new equipment."
Starscream couldn't suppress a conniving smile. "Are you suggesting we play along with the rumours for material gain?"
"Not just play along. We shall add more fuel to the rumour fire! And I think I might have an idea..."
"W-what are you doing?" Starscream flinched at the touch of Knock Out's servos running along the ridges of his wings. "Cease that at once!"
"Hmm." The engineer pondered, tapping his chin with the gamma-ray laser tool he was holding. "Have you ever considered embellishing your wings?"
Starscream rolled his optics and replied with a flat, "No."
"Really, Starscream? I'm sure you're familiar with the ancient tribal custom of engraving one's body with clan markings."
"Such practices are no longer relevant to modern times and are considered sacrilegious. Besides, I am no warrior. I am a seeker."
Knock Out frowned. "How is decorating one's body with ancient Cybertronian symbols sacrilegious?" he argued. "It's simply a form of artful expression!"
"It's more than just an artful expression to me, Knock Out; those sacred glyphics are meant to be studied. Respected. It was never meant to be used as a marking of social status and certainly not for the sake of fulfilling one's aesthetic desire."
"Very well," replied Knock Out as he walked away and dropped the tool on his workbench. "I see you're far too indoctrinated to see the beauty and meaning in the marked wings of your own ancestors. Such a shame, really," he said, looking disappointed. "And here I thought it'd be the perfect bon voyage present for you."
"Come again?"
"Putting all religiosity aside, my offer to embellish your wings was simply my way of saying, thank you, for being the friend I never had through all these meta-cycles. I've spent most of my life in this laboratory with no one else to turn to until you came along. Your presence will be greatly missed while you're out exploring the universe again."
Knock Out had always been somewhat peculiar in his ways but Starscream had never felt so moved by his words. His dark orange optics softened as the engineer's sincerity dawned on him. For once, he felt appreciated. Not shunned, or being mocked at. He remembered seeing his colleagues scattering in different directions to avoid him as he walked down the academic hallways. But here, in the basement, Knock Out had never failed to welcome him with the widest of smiles.
Then on the eve of yet another space expedition, while Knock Out was busying himself at the computers in the laboratory, Starscream came to him to apologise. "While we may not agree on some things, the least I can do is to honour your good intentions." The winged scientist smiled, placing an engraving tool in his colleague's servo. "Embellish me," he said. "In the name of our friendship."
