Disclaimer: Hasbro/Takara/Marvel/Sunbow/Mainframe (am I forgetting anyone?) own Transformers/BW and all the characters. I own the plot. I'm fairly giving, so if you want to use something here you may do so, but I really would like to be contacted first, both to give permission, and also to keep track of how many others my insanity infects.

Anyway, there seem to be remarkably few authors around that would remember when I started this fic (where'd you all go?) but for those that don't know, it's been almost exactly a year since I started this fic.

This fic was also one of the ones that prompted my 7-month long writers block, which seems to have permanently robbed my ability to write at least 3 fics a week.

Of course, it isn't fully to blame; I started several good fics that although promising I couldn't think of how to continue. This one was really one of the many icings on the cake.

Anyway, I'm surprised that I've even bothered resurrecting this fic again; there's so much stigma attached, and although I'm not superstitious, it's about the same time again as last year when I stopped writing.

Still, the thoughts towards this fic just wouldn't leave me alone; although I've got the ending and several  very good scenes and dialogue already written, and a general basis towards the whole plot, I'll still be winging it in parts.

Anyway, I'd better get started otherwise this A/N will be longer than the fic.

This chapter continues on directly from the last BTW.

………

"Where am I?"

"Relax, this is the Pit. But don't try and make sense of it yet, all will be revealed later.

I glanced around the facility that I'd heard bots refer to as the Pit; it was the place where new Predacons were protoformed.

I stood and walked over to a mirror hung on the wall.

I was the same height as the other bots of this age; not much taller than three meters. But other than that, I looked identical to the way that I remembered.

My wings curved gracefully up from my back, but instead of the Decepticon sigil I now bore what appeared to be an insect face.

At least it was still Decepticon purple, but it felt strange not to see the twin faces staring back at me with their triangular eyes.

My overall colour scheme was still red and grey with blue gauntlets and large strakes either side of my head. My upper arms looked unnaturally bare without the usual null-rays.

First order of business; find an armoury.

I checked over my body closely, noticing with distain that instead of the heavy-duty steel that I'd once been made of that over 90% of my body was now made of glass-reinforced polycarbonate.

I briefly scanned my system, noticing how much faster and efficient everything was. The protoform still had many of the sensors that I'd carried since my days as a science officer, but many were upgraded, and there were several new ones.

And the power, I could feel it flowing through me.

I let out a shrill laugh; it was good to hear my own voice after so many centuries.

The femme that was by my side backed up to a wall, clearly distressed at the way that I was acting.

"Relax; I'm in too happier mood to need to hurt anything at the moment. Oh this is wonderful! You have no idea what it's like to feel this way after so long."

"Sir? Are you alright?"

"I could never be better."

"It's just that new protoforms usually take a few megas to get their bearings."

Suddenly a thought hit me; back when I'd found the beast warriors, none of them knew who I was. One of them mentioned that all the old files had been locked away, which meant that few bots would probably know who I am.

"Lets just say that I'm a fast learner."

The bot nodded before walking back over to a computer console.

"So now what happens?"
"You will be taken before the Predacon High Electorate so that they can ask you your views on things."

"Like what?"

"Such as do you believe in Primus, that sort of thing."
"And then what?"

"Then they will decide on a name for you and choose a learning facility for you to attend."

"I already have a name."

The bot looked shocked, clearly I wasn't behaving like a usual protoform.

Luckily just then a bot arrived to take me to the high electorate.

I'd been to many interrogations before, but few were like this.

For one the bots must have thought that I was made yesterday; the things that they were asking were far too forward to ask a bot who had an understanding on how things worked.

Taking advantage of the new ones, things hadn't changed much.

I began to get bored and started answering questions with questions, or simply putting my hands over my audios and humming tunelessly.

Finally they tired of the interrogation and decided that it was time that I was given a name based on what they'd found out about me.

I quickly interrupted and told them that I wanted to be named Starscream.

The head bot looked mildly shocked, which was enough to bring a smile to my face.

"That was the name that we'd chosen for you. We've also chosen for you to attend Equatorial primary for your education."

"Don't wanna."

"All bots must receive mandatory education."

Before I'd finally decided the time was right to find Vector Sigma, I'd cased most of Cybertron to find out what I could.

One education facility reminded me of the facility I'd first attended. Although I felt that I didn't need an education, I decided that a lot had happened in the past three hundred years since my death, and if I was going to learn anywhere, then only one place would suffice.

"I want to attend the Academy."

That's a bold request from one so young. The Academy is an elitist facility for those who have proven themselves worthy of attending."

"Give me a test right now in geological surveying and resource mapping and I'll prove whatever you want."
The electorate members looked at each other sceptically before coming to a decision.

"Very well, you will be given an entrants exam. But when you fail that will be your final chance. If you still want to get into the academy you will have to wait to be noticed like all other bots."

The exam took a little over fourteen mega-cycles. Most of the questions were fairly basic, but I stumbled on the ones that described newer methods of mineral extraction that minimised environmental impact.

The entrance mark was 88%. I barely scraped through with 91%. It wasn't a good mark, but it was felt that I knew enough about the workings of geo-surveying to get in.

I walked out of the armoury; my arms still itched from the mountings of the new turrets.

Null rays had been banned since my death due to possible long-term damages to the targets. I'd laughed when the armourer had told me this, since the rest of the more conventional weapons would surely cause a lot more long-term damage if they were meant to kill.

Nevertheless, I'd finally settled of a pair of air-tazers, which I felt could easily be re-worked into my preferred design.

I made my way to the Academy shortly afterwards. I'd thought of just abandoning the idea and doing what I wanted, but I felt it prudent to at least get my bearings in this new world before I started causing trouble.

I transformed, expecting to see a new design.

However, I still bore striking resemblance to the human F-15 that I'd begin to feel was a part of me. The design was upgraded however, with more efficient impulse engines rather than the dirty reaction engines that required constant maintenance back on Earth.

The form was also a lot cleaner, with many panel lines filled in, and the riveted skin had been replaced with glued plastic, giving a better finish.

I guess that there were some advantages to the use of plastics.

The Academy was a large facility by any standards, and was even noticeable by older standards.

I'd of course toured the place as a spark, but other than seeing what facilities that were set up, I had little knowledge of what went on.

The terminal rooms weren't hard to find, since I'd made sure that I knew where they were before I even put my plan into action.

What I didn't bargain on however was just how new the interface was; I had always seen myself as knowing computers, but I realised just how quickly I'd been left behind with the new advances in technology.

Even still, I wasn't totally computer illiterate, and although I had no idea how, or if I was even fitted with the function to direct feed like many of the more efficient mechs in the lab were doing, I was still able to plod along at a steady, if slow pace.

Still, I could see how efficient direct feed was by the speed that the text flashed across the mechs eyes. I resolved to try it myself under more private conditions.

After a number of astrals I finally found something of great interest.

So, they still existed…

Or at least some of them did; there wasn't even enough left of our proud race to fill a squadron.

Just then my chrono sounded; I'd set it to alert me of my next class.

My research could wait until later; after the billions of years I'd been planning this, another few astrals wouldn't hurt.

Sighing, I gathered up my datapads and headed off to be enlightened.

………

Well what'd you think? Not much yet but I've got a LOT planned.

Next chapter will be up when I post it; should be within 12 months.

BTW. A word of warning; although I'll be trying very hard to stick to the G1/G2/BW cannon this fic will be entirely my own work and hence probably a bit AU. I'll try to keep the references to the comics to a minimum and explain anything rather than just leave it for granted that you know what I'm talking about, but if I do start getting really obscure, or contradicting the comics (I'm a little rusty on them) then e-mail me and set me straight. No one ever e-mails me…

Anyway, this fics for now set immediately before BW, so there will be a few cameo appearances of our beloved Predacons before they get ready to leave.

See you all here next chapter, and don't forget to review!!!!!