i rewrote this like twice because it was exposition hell. and then i rewrote it again because i enjoy suffering. go me!
also i don't care if it's technically wrong i'm spelling knockout as one word fIGHT ME
The bundle of wires ripped easily from the underside of the console, trailing ends emitting not so much as a spark. Starscream tossed them aside onto a steadily-growing pile and turned his attentions to one of the interior panels, peeling away the tarnished metal with delicate talons. The energon converter behind it sat silent, but intact. Starscream grinned. It was one of the newer models — if it could be called that when "newer" was just a little over four million years ago. It would serve his purposes, anyways.
Removing the converter took a good few minutes. The chances of it blowing up in his face were slim, but it always paid to cautious. It fit neatly in the palm of his hand, a transparent cube inlaid with hundreds of delicate copper wires. The inside was hollow. Normally it would emit a blue glow even after separation from the system, but the building hadn't seen the right side of an energon cube in millenia. Nothing in Vos had. At least until Starscream came along.
He stood, converter clutched loosely in his fist, and limped towards the doorway, ignoring the mess of mechanical parts scattered across the floor. Anyone who'd found it would have known immediately that the area was occupied, but as far as he knew there was no one else around for it to be found by. Life had returned to Cybertron. Its area of occupation was limited.
The connecting hallway was lined with windows, now empty of glass, and through them he had a straight line of sight across the old Carbonite Track and its crumbling archways. He couldn't remember what had been there originally. Some sort of transport station, perhaps. Follow what was left of the rails in one direction and eventually you might reach Tarn; in the other, Kaon. Iacon was out of his field of view, somewhere further to the west. He couldn't be bothered to pay it much mind, despite it being the seat of the enemy. They had yet to prod at him, so he could see no reason why he should waste valuable time and resources prodding back.
Three stories down and out through the doors of the archive. Most of the information stored in its halls was either destroyed, damaged, or taken by fleeing librarians to be preserved on one of their ark ships. He'd located a few intact files gathering dust in the underground levels, but they hadn't told him much. One was a brief record of the later years of Kaon's gladiatorial pits. The other two contained papers discussing the finer points of Vosnian opera. Both had struck him with pangs of nostalgia. Not necessarily the good kind.
The plaza affronting the building was wide and sunlit; almost cheerful. He found himself scowling at the single statue that remained standing at its edge. Not one of Megatron's, thank Primus. Otherwise he might have felt compelled to topple the damned thing himself. You had to relish the little victories, really.
It was some flier, probably renowned for their firepower or brute strength or some other such nonsense. Nobody had ever been congratulated for their maneuverability or aerodynamics with a bulky frame like that. And the wings—
The wings.
Starscream reached up and probed the base of his own, wincing as his talons skated over the deep scratches and dents left in the twisted metal. He'd looked at them once, in some particularly polished wall, and then never again. The image was seared into his mind. Right wing, scarred. Left wing, mangled into a twisted wreck that now only served as a constant reminder of his humiliation. Predaking's biggest mistake had been letting him live.
But maybe that was the point.
Experience and casual observation of the shuddering behemoths that now roamed the Sea of Rust showed him that rarely did pack leaders ever outright kill their insubordinates. They beat them to within an inch of their wretched lives, and then retreated.
It wasn't mercy. It was the careful cultivation of loyalty through the reward of a continuing existence.
Well. It hadn't worked on him before, and it certainly wasn't about to now. If anything, it only made him more determined to continue spitting in the face of adversary. From a safe distance, of course. Preferably during a time when said adversary was incapable of spitting back. This wasn't being cowardly. Just practical.
Instinctively he scanned the sky for any sign of the winged behemoth and his monstrous entourage. Predaking's territory didn't extend as far as Vos, but Starscream refused to let his guard down. If they came across each other again, only one was going to walk away from the encounter. And it wasn't going to be him.
He gave the sky one more quick sweep, then nervously shrugged his shoulders and headed down the street.
He'd made his base in the ruins of one of the old military academy towers, on one of the middle floors. Just high enough that he could see what was coming; not so high that his position was easily spotted. Most of the upper levels had portions torn away, leaving them open to the sky and enemy attack. There were tunnels below the surface untouched by the ravages of war, but Starscream rejected them despite the strategic advantage. The thought of dying trapped underground was still more repulsive than the indignity of being crushed by several tons of rubble above it.
The ache in his left leg increased as he plodded up through the levels. That was Predaking's fault, too, along with several other nasty scars that were only just beginning to heal. He'd have fixed it by now had the nearest medic not been several hundred miles away in enemy territory.
After initial recovery, establishing an inside contact had been his first priority. With the vehicons scattered and unresponsive, Knockout had been the obvious choice. He'd left his comlink open to the Nemesis channel just long enough for Starscream to drop in a word. Then everything had been so much static and silence for several weeks. And then—
The ping fizzled through the half-functioning communications relay one day in the middle of repairs. He'd started, then snapped: "Where have you been? I've been attempting to—"
Knockout's chuckle vibrated through the console. "Easy, Starscream. You're not the only one having issues with recolonization."
Starscream rolled his optics. "Ah, yes, I forgot how much of a struggle fitting in with your newly chosen faction must be in comparison to being torn practically limb from limb by a rampaging predacon."
"Sounds painful."
The effort it took to keep from shrieking was astronomical. Several weeks of having nothing to rant to but the empty air had taken their toll. "It was humiliating! I cannot believe Megatron had the gall to allow Shockwave to bring that—that abomination on board the Nemesis. Had its despicable sentience decided to kick in any sooner it might have slaughtered the lot of us."
"As I recall, you were the one beating it up between shifts."
"Only because I was acting on Megatron's orders! Really I would have preferred to be doing anything else. The thing was Shockwave's — why not send him to handle it?"
"Now, now," said Knockout. "Don't you think you're hanging onto the past a little obsessively? Megatron's gone off to who-knows-where and Cybertron is ours again. Really, I thought you'd be a little happier."
"Oh, what's not to be happy about when you're wandering the wastes in exile waiting for some flying monstrosity to come and pick you off?" asked Starscream, gesticulating wildly. He'd lost count of the number of times a passing shadow had sent him into a quivering frenzy. Scurrying anxiously about among the ruins like some sort of prey did not become him.
"Was all that big talk about air superiority a load of hot air?"
"Yes, well, it's a bit difficult to have air superiority when incapable of flight." His wings twinged sympathetically as he said it.
"Oh."
"As usual, Knockout, you know exactly what to say. Have you considered pursuing a career as a therapist should the medical field ever lose its luster?"
"Can't say that I have. What happened?"
"Predaking happened. Do try to contain your surprise. How soon can you be here?"
There was a long silence. "Probably not nearly as soon as you'd like," Knockout said slowly. "Honestly, it's a wonder I was able to catch any private call time at all."
"They don't trust you?"
"Do try to contain your surprise."
Starscream barked out a laugh. "Loathe as I am to compare myself to an Autobot, it's precisely what I would do in their position. How have they been treating you?"
"They grilled me pretty thoroughly at the beginning. Wanted to make sure I wouldn't turn traitor in the middle of reconstruction, I suppose."
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing unbelievable. Said that there wasn't much of a point in fighting now that we're all back home. And you know me. I like to play for the winning team."
"Which team would that be?" asked Starscream.
"We'll see."
That had been at least half a cycle ago, with time between conversations ranging from a few days to up to a month. The average was a week. He suspected that Knockout was agreeing to assist him more out of boredom or personal interest than the goodness of his spark, but he'd take what help he could get. One did not live on energon alone.
The communications relay was shrieking with feedback when he walked into what he considered his primary apartment. He'd managed to repair most of its vital electronic functions, nearly all lighting and comm-related, and the back rooms were a veritable storehouse of salvaged parts and stolen energon. Wide windows afforded an excellent view of the rest of the city, which sprawled towards the horizon in a heaving grey mass.
"I'd say you're late," he grumbled, tapping his talons along a series of keys to adjust the signal, "but I only just got back."
"And you're sounding enthusiastic, as usual," said Knockout. Starscream couldn't see his smirk, but it was everywhere in the tone. "What can I say? I get caught up in my work."
He set the energon converter down on the console, scowl returning. "Unless this 'work' involves slowly stripping the chassis from an uncooperative Autobot, I have a hard time believing there's anything in Iacon to catch your interest for that long. Or did another vehicon take a tumble during repairs?" Most of the vehicons on the Nemesis had been trained for battle, not grunt work. Even mining operations couldn't come close to the scope of effort required to rebuild an entire city from the ground.
"They just aren't suited for heavy lifting, are they."
"Yes, such a shame." His gaze strayed to the Vosnian skyline as he considered how much force it might take to raise one of the fallen towers from the ground. Certainly more than a few vehicons could muster.
"If you must know," said Knockout, "it was one of the newbies. Who, to be honest, aren't that suited for heavy lifting either. We've got them on odd jobs to keep them occupied, for all the good it's doing. It's actually starting to feel a bit crowded."
"But no signs of outward expansion?"
"You should be fine for another half a cycle or so, with the current rate. Might want to watch out for rogue fliers, though. You still hiding out in that disgraceful derelict?"
"I have assets underground, as you well know. Whether or not I choose to spend my time there is none of your business."
"As your physician—"
"And such a fine job of it you've been doing, too," snapped Starscream.
"As your friend, it's in my best interest to keep you alive."
"Alive, but apparently not airborne."
"I've said it before, Starscream. Autobots run a tight ship. Don't think I've worked with them for nearly long enough they won't question that long of an absence."
"I just want to fly again, Knockout. Is that really so much to ask?"
"Well, actually—"
"Forget about it." He sighed. "Secrecy is of the utmost importance, I suppose. Wouldn't do to be found out before I've even had a chance to start my little project."
"Oh? And how is that coming along?"
"Still in its theoretical stages, I'm afraid. Believe it or not, the ruins of a firebombed city aren't the ideal place to pursue scientific ventures. And the amount of energon required to successfully power it is certainly more than I presently have available."
"But you've figured out what it does?"
Starscream glanced at the converter, one of many he'd collected since his arrival in Vos; since his discovery. Far, far belowground in the tunnels he so abhorred sat the machine, wirey limbs spreading out from its core in all directions through the earth, its hulking chassis cold and silent.
But not for much longer.
A wicked grin spread its way across his face.
"Oh, I've figured out exactly what it does."
"u gonna tell me what that is?" asked knockout
"haha fuck no"