Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black
chapter 3
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Today had been a pretty good day so far.
The hustler had gained a rare opportunity to go through the trash beneath Fortress Maximus. All it took was a little cunning and a tip he'd picked up in exchange for some watered-down oil. Apparently, the incinerator was down for a few solar cycles while under repairs, and with so many workers heading in and out, now was just the time for an entrepreneur such as himself to pick through the junk and find some goods to salvage.
Fortress Maximus was home to the Elite Guard, the pick of Cybertronian society. There was hardly a better place on the planet to look for salvage, what with the broken and outdated equipment they threw out. Weapons, reinforced plating, spare parts, hubcaps… Like a junk-diver's paradise.
He leaned back against a wall, waiting for a few brawny-looking mechs passing by to disappear from sight before slipping through the wide-open entrance. The smell of rust and decay was strong in the air; apparently, the repairs were a bit overdue.
The small brown mech scurried in and went straight to work. He only had so much space in his bag, and so much time before one of the repair 'bots noticed he wasn't one of them. He had to act quickly but selectively if he hoped to earn anything from the trip. Chances were, he wouldn't be able to get back in here for another go. He had to try for the best stuff.
He heard a booming voice somewhere near the entrance and winced. Great. It was just his luck that Sentinel Prime would be down here, personally overseeing the work. Why did these things always happen to him? He would've figured that a Prime would be 'too good' to come down here in the trash. Those Elite Guard types were the most arrogant group he never cared to tangle with.
Oh well. He'd just have to hurry it up. As long as he wasn't noticed, it would be okay. And even if he did get seen, if nothing else, he was an expert at running away.
As he went on snatching up whatever shiny objects he could get his servos on, his optic fell upon something unusual. Intrigued, he scurried over to get a better look. The object was half-buried, but its bright color made it stand out brilliantly against the dark hues of the rest of the trash. Something with such a color must be valuable, at least to somebody. Paint like that wasn't cheap.
The scavenger set his bag down and hurriedly cleared some of the trash on top of it away. It took considerable effort for the small commoner to wrench it loose, and when he did, he went toppling over backward, holding the object tightly. Fortunately for him, the quiet noise couldn't be heard over Sentinel Prime's yelling.
He stood up and examined the object now in his servos. It was an almost perfect cube, made of what appeared to be scrap metal, all of it painted a pale blue—Somebody's idea of art, perhaps? There was a warmth coming from inside it, and upon turning it, he was surprised to find a strange glow shining through a split in one of its sides.
"What the slag is dis ting…?" He muttered under his breath. He'd never seen such a thing in all his function. What was that glow? It looked for all the world like a spark, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear it was.
"Hey! You!"
His helm shot up to see none other than Sentinel Prime coming directly towards him. Oh, slag. He was really going to be in for it if that massive mech got a hold to him. And with all the recent anxiety about Decepticon infiltration, he might even be tried as a traitor!
With a yelp, he snatched up his bag and took off running, his unique find tucked under his arm. He didn't get far before something hit him in the back at high speed, sending him crashing to the ground.
Within kliks, he found himself looking up and into the pale blue optics of Sentinel Prime.
*****
It wasn't often that the guilt-ridden Prime was in a pleasant mood. Now was no exception. Even after a little recent good luck, he couldn't find much to be happy about, and it showed as he snarled down at his piteous catch.
"Aw, c-c'mon, please…" The little crook pleaded. "Just… have a little mercy. I won't stealin' nothin'… Just pickin' up some ol', rotten garbage you was gonna burn up anyway!" He gave a nervous chuckle.
Sentinel bent down and retrieved his shield from where it lay on the ground after having been used as a very effective throwing weapon. His narrowed optics never left the intruder, freezing him in place with a cold glare as he put the shield away.
"How'd you get in here?" He demanded.
"Th-through da sewers!" The brown mech answered quickly. "I'll even show ya how to get down there if ya want!"
Sentinel continued to glower at him for a moment, then he rolled his optics and sighed, air hissing through his vents in his agitation. It was just another fragging beggar. There was really no point in bullying him, especially with so much work to be done.
Of course, it wasn't as if he could let him run off with the things he'd picked up. On the one hand, it was just trash, and Sentinel really did have half a mind to just let him keep the slag. But he could never reward law-breaking; that went against everything that made him who he was and would make him, in his own optics, unworthy of his position. On top of that, if he let him leave with the loot, that would just encourage him and others to try and break into Fortress Maximus, likely with far more dire results.
But he still didn't want to bully some poor beggar—he was strict, not evil—and he really didn't have time for the extra paperwork…
Finally, he reached a small compromise. One he could work with.
"Look, right now, I really don't care." Sentinel growled. "Just drop the trash and get the frag out of my face. Go on!"
The intruder didn't question it. His buck-dental plating chattering, he dropped everything, and scrambled off past the workers and out the door. Sentinel watched him take off before moving to get back to work, but as he stepped forward something blue caught his optic.
He knelt down to inspect the brightly-colored cube, left behind by the rat-looking intruder. He picked it up in a single large, black-and-grey servo and looked over it, intrigued, though he couldn't have known it, by all the same features that the street urchin had been.
Sentinel held it up at optic-level, peering in through the split in the side at the warm, silvery glow inside. What was this, some sort of spark? Was this thing alive or something? He'd never seen such a device, and felt that it might have some kind of significance. Its color was disturbingly similar to that of a soldier who very recently had given his life on the field of battle.
But now was not the time to stand and ponder its purpose and origin. Holding the curious object close against his chassis, he went back to his duties, barking orders at slacking repairbots and swinging his free servo emphatically. He would have to ask Perceptor and his loyal followers later.
Ugh… Perceptor. Now there was a creepy mech if ever there was one. He was one of the high council members and the contempt Sentinel had for him was clearly mutual, even if he did lack any semblance of a personality. According to rumor, or maybe legend, Perceptor had had it all removed to make way for even more data, making him the eerie, soulless scientist he was today. Not to mention his cronies – an equally soulless lot that wouldn't even process data without Perceptor's command, and which constantly referred to him as "Master".
With his free servo, he rubbed at his helm. Hopefully, that cheerful little Earth phrase about curiosity wouldn't prove correct. The last thing he wanted was to end up dissected or turned into a mindless goon or something wild and horrific like that. Especially after he'd gone against the creepy bastard's warnings, taken his right as second in command, and become stand-in Magnus. Yeah, Perceptor was probably still a little miffed about that, if he could feel miffed at all.
It was just too bad the entire Elite Guard science team was under Perceptor's direct command, or else he'd go ask somebody else. Still, as long as he was just there to ask about some weird thing he'd found in the garbage, he should be pretty much okay. And besides, anything that gave him a little opportunity to rub Perceptor's olfactory sensor in his authority was good by him. There was nothing to be concerned about as long as he still outranked that arrogant, sparkless little creep.
…At least he hoped so.
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