"Scrapper! Hook! Stop wasting time and fix my wing—now!"

Starscream stormed in, dragging his damaged wing behind him like a trophy of his latest defeat. Scrapper froze mid-step, his irritation barely masked as he turned to address the unwelcome intrusion.

"What happened this time?" Scrapper asked through gritted teeth.

Starscream's optics flared. "That is irrelevant! What matters is that I require immediate attention. Unlike you, some of us are vital to Megatron's plans."

Hook cast a sideways glance at Scrapper, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. He stepped away from the console, gesturing toward a nearby repair station. "Fine. Sit down. This won't take long."

"About time," Starscream sneered, settling onto the station with a dramatic flair. "It's shocking how little regard you have for those of us who carry this war."

Scrapper forced himself to ignore the tirade as he grabbed a plasma welder. Hook, meanwhile, worked on discreetly locking down the current project to keep it hidden from prying optics.

"I don't have all day!" Starscream snapped, tapping his fingers impatiently against the workstation.

"Hold still, or I'll have to replace the wing instead of repairing it," Scrapper shot back, his tone as sharp as the welder's spark. Starscream grumbled but complied, his movements finally ceasing.

Hook took over the diagnostic equipment, muttering under his breath, "If only silence was part of his repair protocol."

Scrapper's battle mask concealed any expression, but his tone carried the weight of his irritation as he worked quickly, sealing the damaged plating and realigning the wing's stabilizers. "There. You're functional enough to fly, which is more than you deserve."

Starscream inspected the repair with a critical gaze, his optics narrowing. "It'll do—for now."

"Good," Hook said, already turning back to their hidden console. "You can see yourself out."

Starscream rose to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his frame. "Don't think this means you're off the hook for ignoring me earlier. I'll be filing a report with Megatron."

"Of course you will," Scrapper muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to roll his optics.

With a dramatic huff, Starscream stalked out of the workshop, his repaired wing snapping into position as the door slid shut behind him. The silence that followed was almost deafening.

Scrapper exhaled heavily, his posture relaxing. "Finally."

Hook glanced toward the closed door, his optics narrowing as he stepped closer to Scrapper. "Do you think he suspects anything?"

Scrapper straightened, setting down his tools with deliberate care. "Starscream always suspects something. Paranoia is practically his operating system." His tone carried a hint of amusement, but the tension in his shoulders suggested otherwise.

Hook folded his arms, his gaze shifting to the concealed console tucked away in the corner of the workshop. "Still, his timing is... inconvenient. We can't afford his meddling right now."

Scrapper nodded, his battle mask hiding the grim line of his mouth. "Agreed. If he gets even a whisper of what we're working on, he'll spin it into some grand conspiracy to undermine Megatron—and us by extension."

Hook's optics flickered with unease. "Do you think he'll come back? We didn't exactly roll out the red carpet for him."

Scrapper let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Starscream's ego will bring him back. He thrives on being the center of attention, even if it's to complain about how poorly he's treated. But for now, we've bought ourselves some time."

Hook turned his attention back to the console, his fingers hovering over the controls. "Then let's not waste it. If this doesn't work..."

"It'll work," Scrapper interrupted, his tone resolute. "It must. Now, let's get back to it before someone else decides to barge in."

Scrapper leaned over the console, scanning the finalized readouts. The data from their theoretical models gleamed on the screen, the numbers confirming what they had spent countless cycles perfecting. "It's calibrated," he said firmly. "The neural pathways should align as expected, and the integration matrix looks solid."

Hook stepped closer, his optics locked on the screen. "The theory holds up under every test we've run. Now comes the real challenge—implementing it in us."

Scrapper nodded, pulling the toolkit closer. "We'll start with the hardwired connections. I'll handle your interface, and you'll do mine. We can't afford even the smallest margin of error."

Hook crouched beside him, already sorting through tools and components. "Agreed. If we don't lay the groundwork perfectly, Devastator won't be able to function properly, let alone think."

"Mixmaster and Long Haul will take some finesse. Bonecrusher's armor is going to be a nightmare to integrate without tearing something loose."

Hook smirked faintly, already opening Scrapper's access panels. "And Scavenger will probably short himself out the moment we power him on. Let's just make sure you're functional before worrying about the others."

Scrapper grunted; the sound muffled as he adjusted his position to give Hook better access. "Just don't fry anything while you're at it. I don't feel like rebuilding my interface from scratch."

Hook worked with precision, carefully rerouting connections and configuring the neural interface. "You doubt my skill? I'm insulted."

"Not your skill," Scrapper retorted, his voice edged with sarcasm. "Just your luck."

Within moments, Hook leaned back, brushing his hands together. "Done. Your interface should sync with the matrix without issue now."

Scrapper stood, rolling his shoulders to test the new calibration. "Feels... stable." He reached for Hook's toolkit. "Your turn. Don't complain if I find anything out of place."

Hook raised a brow. "You'll find perfection. Anything else is your imagination."

Scrapper didn't respond, already focused on his task. His hands moved swiftly, disconnecting and reconnecting key components with practiced efficiency. "There. Try it."

Hook flexed his fingers experimentally, then tested the movement of his servos. "It's responsive. Good work."

Scrapper nodded once, satisfied. "Now we can move on to the others. If the integration holds up, this will be the closest we've ever come to realizing Megatron's vision."

"Let's just hope his vision doesn't involve all of us being scraped if it fails."

"Then we make sure it doesn't," Scrapper replied firmly, already moving to prepare the next stage of the implementation.

Scrapper and Hook moved in unison, each performing their part of the delicate operation on Long Haul. The transporter's bulk made maneuvering difficult, but Scrapper's steady hand and Hook's precise adjustments ensured the neural pathways were installed correctly.

"Hold that stabilizer in place," Hook muttered, his optics focused on the exposed circuitry. "One misalignment, and the entire system will cascade."

Scrapper grumbled as he braced the stabilizer with one hand and reached for his welder with the other. "It's not my first time, Hook. Just focus on your end."

Long Haul, still offline, remained blissfully unaware of their efforts, though his massive form seemed to loom heavier in the confined workspace.

A sudden chime from the comm console broke the silence. Scrapper's optics flicked toward it with an annoyed twitch. "You've got to be kidding me."

Hook sighed, his hands pausing mid-adjustment. "I'll get it. Keep working on that relay."

Hook stepped away from Long Haul, tapping the comm to open the channel. Megatron's imposing visage filled the screen, his optics narrowing. "I've received a report from Starscream." His tone was ice.

Scrapper tensed, though his hands kept moving with practiced ease.

"And what fabrication has our air commander concocted this time?"

Megatron's optics bore down on Hook as if daring him to deflect. "Starscream claims you dismissed him during a critical moment and delayed his repairs. He also implied... suspicious activity in your workshop."

Hook kept his tone steady, carefully measured. "With respect, Lord Megatron, Starscream's claims are exaggerated, as usual. His wing was damaged, and we prioritized the repair to ensure his combat readiness. The delay was minimal."

Scrapper, unable to resist, muttered, "Minimal is generous."

Megatron's glare sharpened. "And this 'suspicious activity'?"

Hook caught himself before he said too much, quickly redirecting Megatron's attention. He gestured vaguely toward Long Haul's form. "We've been working to ensure Long Haul's systems remain optimized for his role in transport. His capacity for Energon loads is critical, and any deviation in his performance could hinder our operations."

Megatron's optics narrowed, his expression unreadable. "And yet, Starscream implies you are concealing something."

Scrapper chimed in, his tone sharp but respectful. "Concealing? Hardly, Lord Megatron. If Starscream spent less time concocting stories and more time leading by example, perhaps his repairs wouldn't fall to us so often. We're engineers, not miracle workers."

Hook nodded in agreement, carefully choosing his words. "Our focus remains on maintaining the Constructicon team at peak efficiency. The more capable we are, the better Devastator will perform when you need him. Starscream's accusations only detract from the mission."

For a long moment, Megatron said nothing, his optics flicking between the two engineers. Finally, his lips curled into a faint smirk. "See that your work justifies your excuses. I will tolerate no delays—or failures."

The comm clicked off, leaving the room in a tense silence.

Scrapper shook his head and returned to his work on Long Haul. "That was too close. Starscream doesn't know what he's meddling with, but he's dangerous all the same."

Hook resumed his position on the opposite side of Long Haul, his movements precise as ever. "Megatron's suspicions are more dangerous. If we're going to finish this without his interference, we'll need to accelerate our progress. Long Haul must be ready by the next cycle."

"Then let's stop wasting time," Scrapper said firmly. "The sooner we move to the next phase, the less chance Starscream has to sabotage us."

Hook nodded, his optics narrowing as he examined the schematic displayed on the console. "Long Haul's configuration will require additional care. The primary data lines from both you and Mixmaster route through him. Any misalignment here could disrupt the entire system."

Scrapper leaned over Long Haul's open chest panel, tools in hand. Long Haul lay offline on the workbench, his systems powered down to avoid interference during the delicate operation. "I know. That's why we can't afford even the slightest mistake. If his connections don't sync perfectly, the whole neural network collapses."

Hook worked on the other side, carefully threading a set of cables through Long Haul's core systems. "We'll start with your data line. Once it stabilizes, we'll integrate Mixmaster's feed."

Scrapper nodded as he tightened a cluster of connections. "He may grumble about being the team's transport, but without his stability, this whole thing falls apart."

"Not to mention how sensitive his systems are to disruptions," Hook added, his voice sharp. "We'll need to triple-check the calibration before we bring him back online."

"Primary line from me is in," Scrapper announced, stepping back to check his work. "How's the stability?"

Hook adjusted the console settings, watching as the data flow steadied. "So far, so good. Let's proceed with Mixmaster's integration."

Scrapper moved to the next set of connections, carefully routing Mixmaster's data feed into Long Haul's core. "This is where it gets tricky. Any interference, and we'll be back to square one."

Hook observed closely, his tone precise. "Slow and steady. We can't afford even a millisecond of signal loss."

It was a painstaking process, but finally, the diagnostics displayed a synchronized flow of data. Hook ran a final check, ensuring the calibration held. "That's it. Both lines are stable. Bringing him online."

Scrapper stepped back as Hook initiated the startup sequence. Long Haul's systems hummed to life, his optics flickering on as the newly integrated neural pathways came online.

Long Haul shifted slightly, his systems recalibrating. Scrapper leaned in, his tone firm. "Take it easy. Let the systems stabilize."

Hook monitored the console, his voice calm. "Vitals are holding. Data integrity is solid. We're ready to move forward."