Pickup

The weeks that followed were not exactly the easiest for him either, especially at his age, but true to his programming, once he started on something he would see it through to the end. The first hurdle was getting all the equipment he needed before he could start putting even two pieces of his robot together. His search took him into the furthest regions of Ferronix – places that were not all that pleasant, and sometimes he was away for days, but he had no choice.

The locals said he was crazy to have dealings with the residents of that area. Maestro figured he had to be a little crazy if he wanted to get anything accomplished. Folk in the old days had called the rebellion crazy too, he remembered.

Slowly, the room that he had set aside to be his laboratory of sorts, began to fill up with all the equipment he needed. He still had no idea how he was going to put everything together, but decided to go with his instincts. They had served him well in the past, they wouldn't let him down now when he needed them most.

It was this never-give-up nature of his that began to earn him some begrudged respect from the populace of Ferronix; and inspite of themselves, some of them even took a liking to this crazy old robot, and got used to him coming up to them with some unusual request or another. They never knew what exactly he was creating, but the idea that he was creating SOMETHING was enough to motivate them to help him get said unusual requests granted.

And as weeks turned into months, he finally earned himself a few friends – the first of them being the young bot he'd met at the equipment store the day after he'd arrived in Ferronix.

The bot's name was Bronze, named after the burnished brown-gold coloration of his armor. He was, in fact, an up and coming mechanic who salvaged a lot of old, broken junk and repaired them into some sort of working order, and re-sold them at a lower price. The store was, in truth, his; and as Maestro found out later, ha had made up the story about him having a boss just so Maestro would assuredly bring his trolley back.

Maestro became his most frequent customer. The fact that the old mech had so much faith in his secondhand equipment made Bronze offer to transport and help him install all of it for free. It was only natural that over time the two became good friends, and it was then that Maestro told him of his project to create a new robot. Bronze immediately offered to help in any way he could.

Finally the day arrived when Maestro could at last look into his lab and know that within its walls he was capable of creating life. He was in fact ready to start work the next day on building the outer structure of his robot once Bronze brought in all the metal he needed. He decided to head down to a bar that evening and indulge himself in a nice big tankard of rich energon for at least coming this far.

Everything in Ferronix was in stark contrast to that of Polyhex, and its bars and patrons were no exceptions. Where in Polyhex folk came to bars to socialize with their fellows after a day's work and drink to one another's health, in Ferronix bots came to bars to be alone, to escape the mundane routine of their everyday existences and drown their sorrows and problems in one pathetic canister of high-grade energon. Such was the existence, Maestro suddenly realized, when one did not have alternatives to turn to – like music.

With that in mind he pushed open the door and entered The Cube, Ferronix's most decent bar. He went straight over to the counter, sat himself on one of the old stools and ordered himself a pint of regular energon. It was only after he'd taken a few sips that he looked around at the bar and its patrons and spotted a familiar face seated alone at a table. He lowered himself off the stool, picked up his tankard and went over to the other bot.

"Hey there Pickup! Didn't know you were back in Ferronix," he said. "Why didn't you look me up?"

Pickup raised his head and the look on his face made Maestro think that someone had come along and dumped 10 extra years on him. Pickup looked worn, and his aqua-green paint looked duller than Maestro recalled seeing it in Polyhex. He thought it was the bar's lighting at first, but lighting could not produce the scorch marks he saw on Pickup's limbs and torso.

Pickup studied him for a few seconds. "Ah yes, that crazy old guy from Polyhex. Been almost 6 months since I last saw you. Maestro isn't it?"

"The one and only," Maestro replied and sat down opposite him after Pickup gestured to him to have a seat. "What happened to you old friend? When did you get to Ferronix?"

"This afternoon." Pickup took another swig from his diminishing canister of energon. "Remember those young punks I told you about? I think I underestimated them greatly lad, many of us did. Levatron might fall because of our folly. They launched a full out assault a couple of days ago, wrecked half the city and killed a number of mechs. They've got this commander now, slagging powerful guy, took out half the bots in one area. So I came up here to get some help. Levatron and Ferronix have always helped each other out in the past."

"I'm sorry to hear about this Pickup," Maestro sympathized, not knowing what else to say.

"Sorry? No don't feel sorry." Pickup paused for a moment as if trying to remember something. "You were creating a new robot weren't you? How's that coming?"

"Considerably well. I'm going to start building him tomorrow."

"Then do the kid a favor and make him a Transformer. Whether we win or lose at Levatron, times are changing and things are going to get worse before they get better. But whatever new race of robots comes next, you can rest assured they'll be created for some type of warfare or another. And as you know very well, in a war, a disguise is crucial. Give him that ability Maestro if you really want this mech to survive."

They went on to talk about a few other things after that, but Maestro's mind could think of nothing else than the fact that, again, maybe he'd made a mistake. More than once he'd gripped his tankard of energon hard so as to prevent himself from jumping up, running back to his house and pulling the plug on everything. Again and again he asked himself if it was worth it.

There were so many questions, so many doubts, so many risks. War was not a thing to be taken lightly. There was no point in creating a robot if the poor mechanism was going to be blown away by the first hit of a laser rifle, and too often he had seen that happen before. The first casualties of war were often civilians.

A/N: well done all.. Pickup is indeed Kup, our fave old-timer. Sorry for the short chapter. next one will be considerably longer, promise!

Owlman: sorry, no gangleader and Ultratron in this fic.

Shades: rich people arent always the most honest ;)