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This went down a long time ago, before the war, long before I got rich and famous starring in a movie on Earth. See, I lived in one of the seediest neighborhoods in Kaon back then. None of us had much, and our street of scraggly cubical homes in run down, unkempt yards was inhabited by an assortment of junkies, whinos, pimps and whores. My neighbors were a couple, y'all know the type, where one should've left the other a long time ago. Of course he didn't.They never do.
Megatron was into engex. A lot of it. The amounts he could get down in an evening was probably enough to fuel a deep space capable shuttle to reach Mars in the Sol system. And when he was done at whatever shithole bar he was in for the night, he'd go home and take his frustrations out on Starscream. Between you and me, I think he was compensating for not getting his spike to pressurize. Mhm, Starscream told me that humiliating little detail one night when he was hiding out in my kitchen.
Starscream could've been something. You know, mile long legs, sleek wings and a pretty face. Dented, scuffed plating from Megatron's "loving" servos, and faceplates that were going old prematurely from boosters, lack of recharge and too much worry hid that. He wasn't just a pretty face, though. No, Starscream was smart too. Real good processor on that one, wasted on drugs and despair. A real pity.
Then one Friday night it was worse than usual. Megatron's bellows could easily be heard across the street, and Starscream... Well, he lived up to his designation. I could hear the crashes of the ongoing wreckage but there was nothing I could do, thin little raceframe like me wouldn't survive thatintervention. So I did nothing, 'cept readying my medical kit and hope Starscream would be able to limp over when the big aft finally fell into recharge.
But this night, things went differently. The fight died down, but Starscream didn't show up within the normal half hour. Instead, a gunshot rang out, loud even over the hustlin' and bustlin' on the street. Everything went quiet, 'cept one of the neighbors unshot turbohound. Fragging mutt would never shut up.
I ran outside, fearing the worst. In the distance, I heard the sirens. Starscream came stumbling out of his hab cube, shellshocked.
"He-he's gone." He stuttered, coming towards me.
"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him.
He had energon on his arms and chestplates and I wiped it with a rag, just to occupy myself while the Seeker trembled in my arms, sobbing.
"He's deactivated. Megatron is offline."
"What?!"
He didn't answer me, just pulled me into his wrecked home. This fight must've been worse than ever. Both Starscream's frame and the state of what was left of the furniture in the kitchen told a tale of severe violence.
"He's laying in the backyard." Starscream said, pulling me along.
"Laying in the backyard?" I echoed, trying to understand.
"He's got a bullet in his head."
What?!
We stopped in front of the massive frame stretched out on his back on the dry, rusty ground. Megatron's optics were offline. It looked like he was recharging. But even his dull miner's frame wouldn't be that gray if he was just recharging. And there was a pool of energon under his helm. The smell of burnt circuitry lay heavy in the air.
"Can't we save him?" Starscream asked numbly.
"I reckon he's dead." I said.
I could relate to that numbness.
"Did you wipe the gun?" I asked, hearing the sirens drawing closer.
"No?"
"Frag!"
I grabbed a cloth from the porch, wiping it down.
"Wipe the spatter from your frame." I snapped and it got Starscream moving.
I wiped the gun and grabbed Megatron's wrist, making sure to smear the piece with his filthy, conjux-beating servo. Just in case anybot bothered to investigate more thoroughly.
Looking Starscream over quickly, he wasn't covered in energon anymore, I dragged him out on the front porch.
"I-I didn't plan this! He... I... I thought he was going to deactivate me. Then he went outside and I got so angry..." The Seeker stuttered, shock letting go of him.
"It was an accident. He was cleaning his weapon, drunk as he was, and shot himself." I told him.
"I... Ah... What?!"
I didn't get to explain further as the enforcers ripped around the corner. The street was empty, except for the two of us and the cops. Most of us tended to keep away from the law.
It was Barricade, to my relief. He was a frequent sight around our street and as crooked as they came, but in the right way. He came from the same type of upbringing as us, and though he'd doggedly pursued a career and made it out, he still didn't look down on us. No, he saw through his digits with a whole lot of scrap and he never overcharged for his leniency. What's a blowjob in exchange for looking the other way when he caught me with boosters in my subspace? Or a frag for not reporting my illegal engex production? He was fun in the berth anyway, so I didn't mind all that much.
The other cop, I wasn't thrilled to see. Prowl. Stickler extraordinaire. If he had his way, we'd all be in jail for all our transgressions and that would probably amount to lifetime charges, if served consecutively at least.
Barricade glared at me, a warning to not do anything to tip his partner off about his arrangements with the local slag. Why would I?
"We got a report on gunshots being fired." Prowl asked, detached as always.
"He's laying in the backyard." Starscream blurted before he started sobbing, everything catching up with him.
"Got a bullet in his helm." I supplied.
"Let's take this inside." Prowl said.
Starscream and I lead the way, stopping in the kitchen and turned back to the enforcers.
"Laying in the backyard?" Prowl asked, writing in his notebook.
Starscream nodded and pointed to the backdoor.
"I reckon he's dead." I said, Starscream shivering in my arms.
"What happened here?" Prowl asked suspiciously.
Barricade wandered around, looking at this and that at the crime scene.
"I don't have a clue! He came home from the bar around midnight and I...ah, I hadn't cleaned up after me so he..." Starscream burst out crying. "He punished me, because I hadn't done what I'm supposed to. And I... I deserved that! He took his gun and said he'd go outside to clean it. Then I heard the shot."
Starscream broke.
"He's gone!" He wailed, invents hitching until his cooling fans were forced to dial up.
Over Prowl's shoulder, I saw him write "accidental death."
I couldn't stop the smirk that momentarily stretched my lips. Barricade didn't miss that, optics narrowing. I shrugged. The world would be better off without that piece of smelt, and I would be the first to admit thinking so.
The coroner came to pick up the frame, Prowl following him. Starscream's brother Skywarp came by to take the shaken Seeker to his place. A crowd had gathered by now, every nosey piece of scrap coming out now that they knew they weren't the ones the enforcers were after.
I overheard Blackout, Megatron's 'best friend', a real bastard, saying something about how Megatron was too lenient, should've taken after Blackout and kept Starscream under better control. My big intake just refused to stay shut.
"Listen here, Son. I know you like ta smack that sweet li'l racer of yours aroun', but heed these words. There's a whole lotta pretty little mechs out there gettin' realgood with a gun. Ya might think ya have Knock Out under control, but then it's just gonna be a nasty surprise when your pretty little punchin' bag blows a hole between your optics."
"Whatever, glitch. Knock Out is well under my thumb. Maybe you just need a 'Copter to teach you a thing or two about what real respect is? Or maybe you're just being glitchy 'cause you ain't gettin' any." He smirked nastily and waggled his glossa in an obscene way.
Ugh. Figures. Blackout wasn't known for being faithful. But he was known for smacking the not-so-secret illicit lovers he kept around almost as badly as Knock Out. I never understood what they saw in him, but he bragged far and wide that they said he was the only mech in town who knew how to fuck.
"I'd rather ride an animalformer!" I yelled back.
He glared and I knew I'd said too much. Blackout wasn't known for taking 'no' for an answer either. Better avoid him for a while.
I turned and walked around my hab cubical, leaving the gossiping behind. Tomorrow, it would all be back to normal. This wasn't really that big an event, lots of scrap went down here. I wondered if Starscream would move back in or if he'd leave.
"And you had nothing to do with that..." Barricade's deep voice rose from the dark corner on my backporch where the light was broken.
"Why, Officer. Of course not." I said innocently.
"So if I call Prowl back, raid your house, we won't find a stash of similar guns?"
"Now, officer, why would you go and do something like that?" I straddled his lap where he sat on my rickety couch.
"Because it's my job." He said, optics roving my frame.
"But I only have plugged ones. For decoration only. And no ammo." I said, sliding my arms around his neck.
"And you never tell your customers how to remove the plugs."
His servos slid along my thighs from my knees to my hips.
"Of course not, Officer." I hummed, stroking his doorwings.
"And if we investigate further, this won't have a whole lot of similarities to when Tarn had an... unfortunate accident with a gun after he laid into Drift really bad? Or how about Brawl's untimely deactivation when you'd been in the medbay like a hundred times from 'falling down the stairs'?"
His thumbs brushed my interface panel.
"I just sell the goods. That's legal. And those were some really nasty stairs."
"And the only sniper around would never teach a bunch of strung out Racers and Seekers how to use a gun he hasn't showed them how to unplug." He summarized.
"Oh, no! That would be irresponsible." I murmured, nipping his neckcables.
"Open up." He tapped my interface plate.
I obeyed. Of course I did. His spike pressurized and I sank down on it immediately.
"I can't find any paragraphs saying that teaching somebot to defend themselves is illegal. In fact, I condone that. But it's a good thing you don't have any guns in your hab cube."
"What would your superior Officer say if I told him about this?" I asked.
"I think you should worry more about what the court would say about the circuit breakers you've laced those cy-gars with." He smirked. "Third strike, no?"
I didn't answer. Instead, I bit my lip and concentrated on riding.
"I won't report it if we share them when we finish."