Chapter Text
Smokescreen could never be more bored.
Here, as he scouted the outer edges of the city with Arcee, all he had for entertainment was staring at reflective metal surfaces against the orange sun and purple fog. Primus may have been revived, but Cybertron still had a long way to go before its flora and fauna could fully reappear. He couldn't help but miss some of Earth’s interesting sights. Unlike Ratchet, however, Smokescreen much preferred to be home anyway.
The blue and yellow painted bot kicked around some scrap metal before groaning, for probably the twentieth time in this scouting mission. Of course, his actions were starting to annoy Arcee.
“How many times are you going to complain before I force you to walk alone somewhere else?” She didn’t look at him while she said it, but Smokescreen could tell she was scowling.
“Sorry, Arcee. I just was not trained for scouting,” he kicks a broken pipe. “I should be hunting down Shockwave! Or, I don’t know, fighting Starscream. I'm a warrior!” Smokescreen turned smug and Arcee groaned.
“You’re seriously going on with that? You realize, with the war over, that not exactly… moral?”
Smokescreen frowned; “Let a bot dream, Arcee.”
What felt like almost half a solar-cycle later, Smokescreen finally returned to the inner city after the long, boring, scouting mission, from which nothing useful came. By this point, he was itching for something exciting. Or at least something to do that could fill his time.
Walking around, trying to find Bumblebee, he found the new leader talking to Knock Out.
“You want to create a shop… called ‘Knock Out’s Steel Job’?” Bumblebee’s arms were crossed. On the other hand, Knock Out had his servos on his hips and head raised with a grin.
“Yes. It's about the best idea I've ever had, actually. Think about it, Bumblebee, everyone would flock to my shop in desperation to look as good as I do,” he smirked and raised one servo dramatically to his chest. “You know, like a body shop.”
A body shop? Building a new society had been slow, and Knock Out was the first to come up with this idea, whatever a body shop was.
“Well, I suppose,” Bee gave in. “As long as your shop also becomes a medical center. We need your medical expertise with Ratchet busy on earth.”
“Yeah yeah no problem, just get me some paint and oil and I can do the rest.”
“Wait- what's a body shop?” Bee tilted his helm.
Metal footsteps echoed against the street as Smokescreen made himself aware. He cast the two bots a large grin and waved.
“Hey guys! Knock Out, you're opening up a shop?” The blue bot widened his optics excitedly, while Knock Out gave him a suspicious look. The misty purple fog gave Knock Out an extra shiny look and radiated his confidence strongly.
“Don't you dare think about sabotaging me for revenge-”
“I wouldn't!” Smokescreen raised his arms. “I want to help.”
Bumblebee and Knock Out each raised an optic ridge.
“I have already assigned you to scout with Arcee, Smokescreen,” Bee explained. “I am sure Knock Out could handle his place on his own.”
“Not that I would want your annoying engine around my shop anyway,” Knock Out added, scowling, which caused Smokescreen to pout.
“I'm not that bad! Really! Scouting with Arcee is sooo booorrrring. Please Bee, I need this,” he put his fists together as a human pleading gesture.
Bee vented, “very well, i'm fine with it. But it is up to Knock Out.”
Smokescreen gave Knock Out a hopeful look with wide optics. Contrary, the red bot's optics squinted at him as he crossed his arms like Bee. The two stared at each other for a klik, before Knock Out finally asked him:
“And how in Primus would you fit into my shop? I couldn't trust you with a buffer-”
“You could! See this?” Smokescreen pointed to his paint, “I did this myself on Earth. Looks good, right?” He grinned proudly. Knock Out, for a moment, let slip a surprised look before quickly making himself look bothered again.
“It's… something,” the bot mumbled.
Knock Out took a step closer, scanning along the paint lines between the yellow and blue. Smokescreen found himself glancing at the top of Knock Out's helm, scanning the other bot's paint himself. It was so perfectly red that Knock Out had to take an oil bath every morning to make it appear so shiny- not that that’s surprising.
“Ugh, whatever, sure. You passed the test,” Knock Out avoided optic contact and stepped away while Smokescreen closed his optics and gave the other a big grin.
“I will tell Acree that you have been reassigned,” Bumblebee started, “But if she needs you, it would be much appreciated if you could help out.” The leader gave Smokescreen a pat on the shoulder and smiled. “Knock Out, you can choose any open building on this street. I will have Bulkhead and Wheeljack deliver supplies you wanted.”
Knockout stood smug and swayed his hips, “Perfect, I will get customers in no time.”
“If they have the money,” Smokescreen commented. Knock Out gave him a small glare. “What? All the Vehicons are poor and none of us has made credits in eons.”
“Fine, fine, I'll make it cheap. But only for the first paint job and repair,” He emphasized with a digit pointing at Smokescreen.
“See you two around, and good luck on the shop,” Bumblebee saw himself off with a smile and wave. Smokescreen waved back, while Knock Out was busy typing on his data pad.
Being alone with the ex-decepticon was admittedly nerve-wracking. Smokescreen had mostly known him as a rival for the phase shifter, a witty villain, oh, and caring about his paint job obsessively. Yet, he seemed to only care about oil baths (still), consistent energon, and something to do. Really, not all that different from Smokescreen himself. In that realization, Smokescreen began to wonder how many Decepticons wanted the same thing, not just to serve Megatron.
“Common big guy, let's go pick a building,” the red bot smirked. “You can have the privilege of giving me some of your insight.”
“Uh, sure?” Smokescreen looked around at their options as they began to walk. Most of the structures had damage from windstorms and thunderstorms. Some were even beyond repair. Others still had signs of old paint and signs from before, when Cybertron was habitable. One building stood out to him: It was not too big nor too small and had an intricate triangle-tiled roof. The sides of it had scrapes of ancient red paint, and the windows at the front felt inviting. Soon, Smokescreen pointed to it, “What about that one?”
“You're not so dumb after all, Smokescreen,” Knock Out's optics glinted. “I was just thinking of the same thing.”
The purple mist had cleared by the time the two had cleaned all the scrap metal from around the building. Smokescreen's fans were hard at work, but he was smiling. Talking to Knock Out and hanging around him proved to be easier than he expected.
“Finally,” Knock Out set his claws on his hips. “Ugh. That stuff made scratches all over me,” he looked down on himself and scowled, while Smokescreen chuckled.
“What's the big deal? It's not like anyone cares about a few-”
“ I care, you circuit plug! I need to be a good role model for my customers,” he growled dramatically. Smokescreen knew the bot buffed himself so often for more than just customers, but he didn't press him for answers. Instead, Smokescreen walked past him to head inside. Knock Out scoffed.
The inside of their chosen building was dusty and old, of course. But it would work. Next to the windows was a desk for making payments, and the main room was lined with shelves. All the walls were barren and tin. But a little buffing and they could be as shiny as Knock Out. Smokescreen walked past some shelves to discover a side door that led into a storage area.
“Hm, must have been a market,” Knock Out commented with a pleased hum. “That storage room will be useful as well. Smokescreen, get to work and get these shelves out of here, would you?” He swayed as he ran his claws along the cashier’s desk with a sparkle in his optics. Hm, Knock Out was starting to remind him of something from Earth, Smokescreen thought. What was it… hm, a cat?
“Well?” Knock Out snapped him out of his train of thought with a glare.
“Oh! Sorry,” Smokescreen grinned sheepishly. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He began to rip the shelves from their welted positions in the floor with sheer strength and threw them into the corner of the room. With the chaos and metal banging and screeching, Knock Out desperately tried to get his notes in order on his data pad. Whatever he had on his notes, Smokescreen guessed it was plans for the shop.
“Hey, since your ex-con and all…” Smokescreen started while he continued to rip away at the shelves. Behind him, Knock Out grumbled and looked up at the autobot. “Well, I'm sorry for leaving you in a wall. But I think I need an apology for you invading my gears like that,” he laughed at the memory. It was admittedly scary at the time, but thinking back to it, Knock Out looked a bit too excited to be shoving his servo in another bot's body.
Knock Out rolled his optics but smiled, “Alright, I’ll humor you. No, I'm not sorry for that. But… I suppose I'm sorry for leaving you in a wall as well,” he leaned against the table and went back to sorting his notes. Smokescreen couldn't wipe the smile off his facial plate. Yeah, this was going to be more fun than walking around with Arcee. Not to mention there was so much to learn when it came to the ex-con.
Being in stasis for so long, Smokescreen had a big puzzle to piece together. So far Optimus filled in the basics, and he picked up some stories from the others. But these were mostly about the horrors the Desepticons did. If Smokescreen learned anything from Alpha Trion, it was that battle and disputes were not so simple as “good” and “evil.” Perhaps Knock Out could give him some interesting insight from the other side.
Smokescreen’s vents heaved out hot air as he worked to throw the pile of scrapped shelves outside. Hopefully, Bulkhead could take that…
“Are you going to help?! Primus, my spinal cords sting,” he wined and turned towards the red bot, who only smirked deviously.
“Nope.”
Oh well. But Smokescreen was still smiling.