Tons of thanks to all of you. We are very happy thanks to the amazing reception this story has received. We will continue providing regular updates, honestly, writing this and our other joint fic, 'Cantabile', is a labour of love.
Thanks again for joining us and we hope you will enjoy this update.
Chapter 16
Welcome to the Jungle
'Hey Sean.
Gone out to get u some new clothes so don't go anywhere. Help urself to the food in the frige, theres cornflakes in the cupboard under the sink if ya don't want waffles. Oh, but i don't think theres any milk left, i'll get some on my way back if ya wanna wait.
Stella.'
Back against the headboard, Starscream screwed up the tattered piece of paper and turned it over in his hands, unsure of what to do with himself.
The sun was already half-way across the sky when he had woken, its golden rays peaking presumptuously through the crack between drawn curtains. Starscream had rolled over onto his side expecting to be greeted by the delicious scent of breakfast, or perhaps the sight of his human companion, but instead had only found the untidily written note addressed to him on the bedside table.
It annoyed him to think that the wretched female seemed to trust him; although humans weren't the most logical of creatures, he hadn't thought it would be too much to expect some level of apprehension in her behaviour. Indeed, she was nothing more than a worthless whore thus judgement couldn't be a strong suite in her, but still, she had left him alone in her own dwelling; surely even a whore like her would have some common sense.
But then again...
Starscream couldn't help but let a smirk cross his features as he thought of the many femmes back on Cybertron that had 'trusted' him; those that had begged him to bed them, those that had given him all they could before paying the ultimate price for their stupidity...
The sweet memories brought his mind back to reality. Starscream folded his arms behind his head, looking up at the stained ceiling. Perhaps a perverted, erotic death would solve a few problems; he'd be rid of that pathetic creature and would gain himself a place from which he could base his operations... Yes, it was certainly an option...
The balled-up note made its way across the room in a graceful arc, the movement of flight bringing a strange and unexpected pang of jealousy to the ex-Seeker. A sigh escaped his lips; although it went against his Decepticon instincts, Starscream knew he couldn't kill the human, not without drawing unwanted attention anyway.
He sat forward, separating himself from the squeaking headboard, the blue, scorched sheets cascading down his torso as he did so. Resting his elbows on his knees, he placed his head in his hands.
Part of him wanted to leave the female's dwelling immediately, leaving behind all trace of his continued weakness, his lack of self control. Yet another part – the more conservative part – wanted to stay.
The human may not have been rich, and she certainly wasn't overly intelligent judging by her poor use of the English language in her note, but she did seem willing to share her accommodations with him. And it now appeared that she was also willing to spend her limited credits on him as well.
Maybe there was some sense in keeping her alive, exploiting her...at least until he was able to infiltrate the Autobot base, anyway.
Starscream shook his head. He was an idiot; how could he have been so foolish as to get himself caught in such a ridiculous situation?
The sound of his stomach rumbling disturbed his train of thoughts, reminding him of those mild similarities between organic and mechanical life; refuelling being one of them.
Slowly, with the caution of one predicting some sort of disaster, Starscream climbed out of bed, exposing his nudity to the world once again. He wandered over to the window, looking out from behind the curtains while being careful to ensure the two pieces of fabric didn't separate more than what was required; he remembered the warning Stella had given him the previous day and was unwilling to display himself again.
There seemed to be no sign of the human on the street below, just a selection of her fellow organics going about their daily business like the insects they were. Starscream sneered, before abandoning the window and making his way into the refuelling room.
-------
Having rummaged unceremoniously through the fridge and several cupboards, Starscream finally found the waffles the female had referred to in her note. Placing two of them in the toaster and depressing the lever, he turned his attention to the clutter adorning the workbench.
Objects of various sizes were scattered across the dirty, blue laminate, most of them he didn't recognise at sight but would have done had he still had access to the immense Decepticon database. It was his guess that the majority were used for the preparation of human fuel, others for simple decoration. In other words, they weren't of any use to him.
A pile of papers drew his attention next; without hesitation he shuffled through them with disinterest and the slightest hope of finding something useful.
Final notice.
Payment overdue.
Feed the hungry – make a donation now.
Starscream cast aside the papers with disdain.
The sound of his breakfast popping up in the toaster brought his green eyes back to the small appliance; the sweet, pleasant smell of the fuel washing over him causing his mouth to water. He was about to reach for the now-steaming waffle when the sudden sound of radio static made itself heard, accompanied by a slight stinging in his right ear.
"Hey, Screamer? You there? Come in, Screamer?"
The human couldn't help but jump in surprise at the sound of his wingmate's voice. Soundwave's accursed communication device...he'd totally forgotten about it. The continued humming in his head told him that the com link was still open; he decided against ignoring his frustrating subordinate.
Equal, he corrected himself with ire.
"Yeah, what?" he snapped, not bothering with niceties.
"Hey Screamer! How's my favourite squishy going? I see you haven't managed to get yourself killed, you've gotta be happy about that," Skywarp chirped happily.
"Slag you, Skywarp. What do you want, I'm busy."
"Aww, don't be like that, Screamer. Can't a guy check in on his buddy every now and then? I mean, you move outta home and you never call..."
"For Primus' sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that! Now get to the point of this conversation or I'll end it right now."
"Yeah, not much chance of that happening, Screamer. But seriously, how's it going out there in the land of the squishies? Have ya found a job yet? Or a place to recharge? We noticed you've stayed in the same place for a couple of cycles now..."
The deep voice of Thundercracker cut into the conversation, drowning out Skywarp's frustrating rambling. "Hi Starscream, just ignore him. How are you, are you still sick?"
"I'm fine, no thanks to you."
"Are you sure? If you're still running hot then maybe you should be brought back here and..."
"I said I'm fine, slaggit! And as much as I hate being surrounded by these filthy flesh creatures, they make better company than you do. Now is there a reason why you're pestering me? Oh, wait, you've already screwed up and want my advice, right Air Commander?"
An uncomfortable silence invaded the communication link for several astro seconds before Thundercracker responded. "You know I didn't ask for this promotion. Look, Starscream, we just wanted to make sure you were ok. Megatron has noticed you haven't moved for the last couple of cycles, he's gonna be asking you questions pretty slagging soon, you can bet on it. What have you been up to, have you made any progress?"
"Have you fragged any femmes?" Skywarp interrupted.
"What the slag do you think I've been doing, Thundercracker?" Starscream spat, ignoring his other wingmate. "I've been trying to work out a way of infiltrating the Autobot base, a slagging simple task I must say."
"Do you need our help, you know, finding credits or a place to stay?"
"I don't need idiots helping me."
"Starscream, don't be an aft about this. I shouldn't have to remind you that Megatron is expecting results, and if you don't deliver, I doubt it will simply be your Cybertronian form that you're fighting to save. If you don't want to work things out now, then fine. But at least let us see you, you never know, we might just be useful to you."
Starscream sighed, gazing blankly at the toaster before him. In that moment of confusion he hated his wingmates – it was their fault he was in this mess – but despite the anger squirming inside of him, the thought of being amongst his own kind did bring an unsettling sense of calm to him.
"Fine," he finally responded. "Meet me in the manufacturing district, two and a half cycles from now. You can track my signal to find me, and there won't be many humans around to see us. But don't see this as me accepting your help. I'm not. I just want to shut you up, got it?"
"Ok, Starscream, understood. Take care of yourself. Thundercracker out."
"Yeah, see ya then, Screamer. And save some femmes for me, ok."
The communication link fell silent, taking with it the static hum and the dull ear ache.
"Slag off, Skywarp!" Starscream finally yelled, thumping the kitchen bench with a balled-up fist.
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He had to get out of there.
He had wasted way too much time wallowing in the realms of weakness, it was time for him to leave.
Having made use of the human's washroom facilities, Starscream ran his fingers over the torn fabric of his trousers. It was odd to think that only a few breems ago he would have done anything to cover his animalistic form, yet now, as his thumb became caught in one of the many holes, he wasn't so sure he wanted to cover himself.
Perhaps it was his overzealous vanity, clawing its way back into his conscious mind after so many breems of humiliating absence. Despite the female's supposed attempt to clean the garments they were still covered in mud, still shredded and thus decidedly ugly.
He grimaced in frustration; such things were not worthy of him, even in his current form.
But giving into his vanity would not solve his current conundrum, for both conceit and common sense had conflicting arguments.
If he wanted to escape, he had to cover himself as was the human custom. But despite that fact, one thing was for sure. If he was to leave the partial safety of the femme's dwelling he couldn't do it wearing such dishevelled clothing. Not without drawing more unwanted attention anyway.
He grimaced, and threw the clothing back onto the bed. So, he didn't have a choice, then. He had to stay, and wait for the accursed female to bring him the new coverings she had promised in her note. Starscream had no doubt they would be ugly.
They had to be, just like everything else to do with humans.
Starscream sat on the bed, scowling. How he hated waiting.
---------
Wandering through the crowded streets was nothing new for Stella. The colours, the scents, the noises, the faces… it was a very well known world, the small universe of her neighborhood, the one she was sure she would never leave.
But that afternoon, as she walked among the familiar and yet distant facades, she was sure the small kingdom in which she was barely a slave was shining with a different light. For once, she wasn't walking those streets like a robot, surrendering to the routine of selling her body just for the luxury of having a place to spend the night. For once, she was walking through those streets with a purpose, one that made her feel happy.
As she headed toward the small store at the end of the street, she focused again on the image of her mysterious guest. She blushed, immediately feeling embarrassed about it. Blushing was one of the things women like her didn't have the right to experience. Men expected them to be sexual machines, as she had tried to be with him.
But at some point she had failed. There was something very strange in that man that was supposed to be the fuck of her life. There was something behind his frown, his arrogant attitude and his naiveté concerning everything that was ordinary… She didn't know what to think, and all she could do was pray for having more time to find it out.
She reached her destination and found the always friendly stare of Johanna, the one person she could call a friend. As always, Johanna was wearing a dress that seemed to find ways to get shorter every day, not minding about the legs beneath it being too rough for such delicate textile. In the end, Johanna was no culprit of having being born in the wrong body.
"My my… isn't somebody happy today?" Johanna greeted Stella. Definitely if there was someone that could proudly call herself a woman despite nature insisting she was the opposite, it was that marvelous tall and skinny creature.
"How can you tell? I'm not smiling as far as I know," Stella said, trying to sound indifferent and starting to peer through the clothes exhibited on the ugly and old mannequins.
"Not with your mouth hun, but trust me, you are." Johanna blinked one eye and put a finger on her temple. "Let me guess… a client… fat and drunk, perhaps senile… but heavily covered in big bucks… I bet the poor bastard didn't know when you snatched his wallet, huh?"
"Well, he had a tuxedo…"
"I knew it. So now you come to spend your profits with your best girlfriend. Good for ya girl! So what can I get you today? I got this fabulous tank top…"
"Nu-huh. Wrong gender, dear. Show me some male jeans, and a shirt… How is my credit line?"
"For you, eternal. But stop right there. Why in heaven do you need male clothes?"
Stella didn't reply. Once again she felt the reddish tone assaulting her face, but she turned toward some t-shirts aligned beside the counter. Johanna reached out for her and made her turn around.
"Now turn that slutty face of yours and face me, Stel! Do you have the guy in your apartment?!"
"Well…"
"Damn, girl! What are you thinking? Does Kane know about this?"
Stella's smile quickly turned into a thin line. "No, and I want it to remain that way."
"If he finds out…"
"He won't. He's probably very busy at his club right now."
"Oh yeah… it's Friday after all, right? No wonder I didn't see Frank and Pete fooling around this morning. They must be preparing everything for the fights. Men can be so brutish!"
"They can't help it I guess… Hey, I like this one!" Stella happily said taking a red t-shirt. "How much?"
Johanna stared thoughtfully at her friend. "Mmmh… for you? Let me see… if your gossip's worth it, half price."
Stella burst out in laughter. "Sorry sweetie, not today."
She didn't know why she was being so reserved. Normally she would gloat about the first class stud she had managed to take to her bed, but it was all part of that strange aura that surrounded him.
When she walked out of the store, embracing the bag with the clothes destined to dress her tanned Adonis, she wondered for a moment if he was real, if the one who had taken her to paradise was nothing but an illusion, a ghost created by her very lonely mind.
-----------
Starscream stared at his own reflection in the mirror, forgetting about the presence of the female behind him.
Underwear… it felt comfortable but he wasn't sure if he preferred not to use it. The pants alone were fine. Why did the humans have to complicate their puny lives so much? Giving so much attention to insignificant details… it was no wonder why they were so low in the chain of conquest.
"You know, Sean… as much as I hate seeing your jewels covered, I have to admit those trunks suit you just fine…"
He allowed her to caress the now covered zone of his body. She seemed to highly like it, and he had to admit that her touch was pleasant.
"Now the jeans… I'm sure you are used to better brands, but this is all I could get. Sorry, sugar."
"Save your excuses. At least these garments are not torn," he disdainfully said as he put the blue jeans on.
"Mmmh… love how they suit you… Not too tight, not too loose…." she continued, lost in the image on the mirror and not caring about his rude tone.
Starscream grumbled something in response, but once again he forgot about the femme. Blue… at least the slagging human clothing was blue. He hid his relief when he caught sight of the red garment she had brought to cover the upper part of his body. Paintjobs were very important for a Cybertronian, and at least being able to use his colors was an unexpected but welcomed surprise. At least he would feel a little bit more like himself, but only a little...
"Now the final touch," Stella said triumphantly. "Sneakers! You won't be able to run a marathon with them, but…"
"I told you I don't care about those things. Whatever is fine," he said sitting on the bed and putting the white soft shoes on his bare feet.
She kneeled in front of him, resting her hands on his thighs. Her glance was strange, seemingly crystallized.
"Now what the slag is wrong with you?" he said, frowning. He really didn't like his personal space being invaded like that. Interfacing with the human had been one thing, but that didn't mean she could get that close to him, not if she wanted to keep functioning, that is… It would be so easy to break her neck joint, to release some of his frustration by seeing another being perishing under his grip. But then again, she was not worthy of dying at his hands. There was a big distance between slaughtering Autobots and anonymous second class human prostitutes.
"You are leaving now, right?"
"Yes. I've already wasted too much time here."
Stella got up and turned her back at him. He stood up, not caring for anything more than the door. Outside, uncertainty was waiting. How the slag was he supposed to contact the Autobots, not to mention infiltrate them? Accursed Megatron… he should bathe in that damn Well of Transformation water and try to infiltrate the Autobots himself, then he would know…
"Will you come back, Sean?"
The voice of the femme interrupted his train of thoughts. He stared at her, like noticing her presence for the first time.
"What?"
Her smile returned. She put her arms around his neck and grazed his chest with hers. Slag, how he liked those big and rounded breast plates…
"Because if you do, I promise you will have a wonderful time. There are still many things you haven't experienced yet…"
"Is that so?" he asked, deciding to play her game a little more. "Like what?"
"Oh, you would have to come back to find out… But seriously, Sean, if you ever need a place to crash…"
"Crash…?"Now that was a word he didn't like.
"Yes, or if you are in the neighborhood… You can come, you know? You don't have to pay me. No strings attached, just pure pleasure… I'll take good care of you."
He grabbed her chin and slightly tilted her head up. He had always liked to grab femmes that way, no matter if they were pleasure femmebots in Kaon or Elita One herself. Perhaps it was a matter of domination, that perhaps he liked them to have their attention focused on him… But attention was something he didn't need to force on Stella. That human seemed to worship him, an advantage he could certainly use.
"Maybe I will, Stel," he finally said. "If you keep your mouth shut and use it for more useful purposes than talking nonsense… Speaking of which, get on your knees femme, I may grant you some more minutes of my valuable time."
She smiled and softly pushed him to the bed. He fell on his back and closed his eyes, hearing her unzipping his new pants. Yes… this Stel femme could be useful after all, if only to give him some relief of the living hell of being a human.
-------------
Evening was beginning to arrive when Starscream entered the city streets again. For some reason, the noisy and colorful Autobot-like vehicles didn't bother him too much, neither the dozens of humans that saturated the sidewalks. Insects as they were, it was still weird to see them face to face instead of from the superior height of his former body, but he disregarded those thoughts. He had more important things to think about, like how in the Pit he was going to get inside the Autobots' circle of trust. He knew their weaknesses, but he needed the chance of using them to his advantage. Getting that chance was going to prove difficult, especially considering he had five solar cycles to give Megatron some initial results if he didn't want to end like a pulp of blood and bones beneath his leader's foot.
Priorities. He needed to establish immediate priorities. He had covered the basics of his hygienic and refueling needs by washing and feeding himself during Stella's earlier absence, so his body was no longer an issue, at least for the rest of the cycle. What he needed was credits, the currency named dollars that humans used to sustain their economy in that particular city-state. He was certainly not going to lower himself by getting a human job as his wingmates had suggested, but he had to get those dollars as soon as possible. Getting to the Autobots could prove to be expensive.
At some point, even lost in his train of thoughts, he noticed how human femmes were staring at him. Seemed that Stella was not the only one to admire his extraordinary good looks.
The idea of lowering himself once again with some of those big-breasted specimens was starting to flirt with his mind when he caught sight of something that momentarily erased all trace of sexual desire.
The two faces he wouldn't forget, the two humans that had dared to humiliate him… Denominations Frank and Pete, that he would never forget. When somebody dared to enter his enemy list, they stayed there.
They didn't see him and kept walking. They were talking cheerfully, sometimes saying things to other humans that Starscream couldn't hear. One thing was certain; they had some sort of high status in the zone because the other fleshlings stayed out of their way and addressed them with respect.
Good. Starscream didn't like low ranked enemies, that's why he didn't even know the names of most of the inferior ranked Autobots. He had had a discussion with Megatron about the matter recently, neither of them sure about which one of the runts was Bumbler or whatever his name was.
But no matter what, those two human bile bags were about to pay for what they had done to him two nights before. How he would achieve that, was still an enigma. All he knew was that revenge was better served hot, and the opportunity was right before him.
He followed them, keeping his distance to avoid suspicions. Despite his immense desire for retaliation, he had to be cautious. If those humans had some status, that meant they had some power, and Starscream preferred to know what he was facing before jumping into the danger zone. Painful and humiliating past experiences had taught him so.
Some minutes went by before the humans disappeared through an entrance at the end of a closed street. Other flesh creatures were entering the place, so Starscream thought he wouldn't look suspicious if he did the same. He wasn't mistaken.
---------------
The shouts, the greedy stares, the money passing from one hand to the other, the big-assed girls selling drinks and cigarettes, the lights focused on the ring at the center of the place, emphasizing the semi darkness that surrounded it…
Trash as it was, Kane enjoyed contemplating his little reign. As he tightened his grip on his golden cane, he delighted himself in the idea of the profits he would gain that day. He had been dealing with drugs and prostitutes for almost thirty years, but he still preferred underground fights.
Bets showed the real face of humanity. When a man put his money in something, he was putting his entire trust on the table. That was the only way to see the real face of a person, the moment in which greed and hope became one. Winning or losing meant more than losing some bills. Dignity was involved, sometimes legacy. He had lost count of how many men and women had lost everything they had in the world to him.
Kane smirked as he saw Frank and Pete directing the delicious mess that collecting the bets was. At the end of the day, most of that money would be his. No matter how, fate always worked on his favour. He made it sure it did.
Fourty five minutes later he was staring at the spectacle from a conveniently hidden spot at the back of the small auditorium. He didn't like to catch too much the attention of the audience, despite the fact that everybody knew he was the one who controlled the wires.
As predicted, the first fights were boring. His guys won a couple, lost another. Once again, nothing out of his control. Standing beside him, his loyal lieutenants didn't waste an opportunity to try to gain his favours.
"See that, Mr. Kane? I taught him that movement myself, only cost him two teeth!"
"You're so full of shit, Frank, it was me who trained that bugger!"
Kane burst into laughter, satisfied with the rivalry between his lackeys. "Nuff with the bullshit boys, you better have good news for me concerning the stellar fight."
Frank's smirk immediately disappeared. "Oh yeah, about that Mr. Kane… it wasn't easy to find a rival for Maximus, you know…"
"He has beaten everybody around… Nobody wants to fight him anymore," Pete added.
Kane slowly shook his head. "Not what I wanted to hear boys. I have a good amount of money invested in that fight, so you better not disappoint me."
"Eh… hopefully we won't." Frank said. "We found this new guy… He works free lance as an enforcer for The Predators… He thinks he can have a chance against Maximus..."
"A chance is more than I need to raise the bets, asshole. Make sure he puts up a good fight, or you two will end up at the bottom of the river tonight, got it?"
"Sure thing!" both Frank and Pete said at the same time.
Soon the moment everybody expected arrived. The spotlights illuminated the figure of a tall and average muscular man that approached the ring. But his arrival couldn't have been more disappointing, as the jeering that welcomed him increased its intensity.
"What the fuck is that?!" Kane yelled, grabbing Pete by the neck of his jacket and pointing toward the improvised fighter. "I think I told you to find a proper rival for Maximus! Who is that clown?"
"T… the Predators' enforcer… just last week he crushed five guys all by himself…"
"Guys that Maximus would use to wipe his ass! I don't know how you two morons are going to do it, but you have five minutes to find me someone decent that can take at least three rounds with Maximus or you are dead! Offer him one grand, more if you need to, but it'll come right from your pockets, do you understand?"
Providence worked in strange ways. In the same moment in which Frank and Pete were looking frenetically in their terrified minds for ways to save their necks, and Kane was already calculating how much money he would lose that night, something happened.
A lightning bolt, a gust of a hurricane, all there, in the back part of Kane's auditorium.
Pete was snatched roughly from his grip, and all Kane saw was a fist brutally crashing against the face of his subordinate.
Pete cried in pain as blood erupted from his shattered nose. He hadn't finished collapsing to the floor when Frank followed his destination, victim of a strong elbow that impacted his head.
Kane blinked in confusion and stepped back, a reaction he never had.
Before him, a very good looking young man dressed with a tuxedo jacket and informal clothes was staring at him.
It wasn't the arrogance, or the smirk of superiority that adorned his face… It was the murderous shine in his eyes that made the powerful gang leader feel his body shiver.
"One grand?" the young man repeated the words he had heard. "I'll fight, and I'll win, but you will pay me triple."
To be continued.