Chapter Text
Being kidnapped by Starscream is a lot less dramatic than what Wheeljack expected.
For starters, he can think of things a lot worse than being thrown into a room full of technology to play with. Even if this room technically served as his prison cell, it had all the basic tools he needs to start dissembling the countless broken drones he'd been ordered to repair.
It’s almost ideal. Minus his broken prosthetic arm and the whole—y’know—prisoner situation.
Wheeljack glances to the side. One of the few operational drones is hovering, staring directly at Wheeljack. While it’s presence is likely meant to intimidate Wheeljack into working faster, it doesn’t bother him. Considering how Starscream is trying to maintain control over the entire city sector by himself, it’s hard to imagine he’s closely monitoring the security feed of every single drone. Specifically this specific drone. Just from a cursory glance, Wheeljack can tell it’s a glorified security camera with no weaponry.
So with that out of the way, he sets up the tools he'd been given on top of the table. He isn't going to build drones for Starscream, but instead, he's going to fix his broken prosthetic arm. If Starscream has a complaint about it, then he’d have to march over here in-person to get Wheeljack to stop. After all, Wheeljack has no intentions of giving a megalomaniac even more unchecked power if he doesn't absolutely have to.
Wheeljack hums, taking to loosening the bolt near his shoulder. If he’s lucky, all he’ll have to do is replace a few parts to make his arm good as new. With a little extra time, he could even upgrade his arm with the materials he’s been provided. He could at least make it so a single shot wouldn’t blow half of the circuitry and leave it glitchy.
Yet even as Wheeljack fully intends to pry off the rusty plating, he struggles to do so. The plating might’ve been made of scraps he found, but it holds strong with the screws he himself had put into place.
Looks like he can’t just brute force the warped plating off, he’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.
He sighs, grabbing a screwdriver. Hopefully this is the last time he has to do work one-handed for a while. Even though he knows in theory how to do it, it doesn’t mean his left-hand proficiency can match what his mind wants.
But then—just as Wheeljack is about to set to work—he hears it.
The distant sound of a jet engine.
No—Wheeljack tells himself. It has to be a coincidence, that was far too quick of a response. Starscream must have seen someone trespass in ‘his’ city and be going out to deal with it personally.
Wheeljack continues his work, trying to remove one of the screws keeping the prosthetic locked into his shoulder socket.
And yet, a few seconds later, he can confirm the noise of the jet engine is growing closer. He grimaces. Yup, okay. Maybe he underestimated how closely Starscream had been watching him.
Wheeljack turns slowly, carefully watching the locked door. While he should feel more worried, he’s more annoyed. There’s no way Starscream expects him to work with a single hand, right? Even he should understand this just makes the situation worse for everyone.
Wheeljack continues staring at the door, gripping the screwdriver tighter.
His patience is rewarded when the door opens, and in walks an irritated Starscream.
“What are you doing!?” Starscream yells, pointing an accusing finger at Wheeljack.
“I’m fixing my arm.” Wheeljack says plainly, lifting up his limp, still-attached prosthetic arm, “You blew out the circuity in it when you shot me, remember?”
“And yet, I don’t remember asking you to repair your arm.” Starscream snarls. He kicks one of the broken drones and it lands at Wheeljack’s feet, the shriek of metal painfully reverberates in the room, “I told you to fix my drones.”
Wheeljack glares back, “Either I can do sloppy work at a tenth of my normal speed, or you can let me repair my arm so I can actually work.”
“And give you the opportunity to install weaponry into your body?” Starscream steps forward slowly, up until he has to tilt his head down to glare at Wheeljack, “Don’t try and play me for a fool. You won’t win.”
“I’m not installing weaponry.” Wheeljack protests, gesturing to his very-clearly-broken arm, growing frustrated. “I’m trying to fix my arm!”
Starscream grabs Wheeljack’s arm, and Wheeljack flinches, immediately bracing to be hit.
But the blow doesn’t come.
Starscream’s just examining Wheeljack’s arm. His claws dig into the plating—an action that would normally hurt— and looks to Wheeljack.
Wheeljack just blinks, confused. Even though Starscream’s claws are digging into the plating, it doesn’t hurt. The prosthetic is so rudimentary there’s no sensory feedback. The only pain he can feel in that arm is the phantom memory of when his real arm had been ripped off.
But he doesn’t dwell on that.
Finally, Starscream scoffs, and practically throws Wheeljack’s arm back at him.
“...It’s made out of garbage.” Starscreamstates, his disgust apparent.
“Yes? That’s all I could find.”
“And you expect me to let you waste precious resources to let you fix it?”
“If you want me to repair your drones, then yes. You need to let me repair my arm.”
“Fix my drones, first.”
“I’m telling you it would be faster if I fixed my arm first.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“You didn’t, but figured I’d at least warn you. I’m not left-handed, so everything would take a lot longer.”
Starscream’s wings flick, and his eyes narrow, searching for deception. Not for the first time, Wheeljack is glad he’s wearing a mask. Otherwise Starscream might interpret Wheeljack’s annoyed frown as a challenge.
Starscream crosses his arms, and finally he says, “If you fix your arm, and this pile of drones isn't fixed by next daybreak, I’ll remove your arm entirely from this equation.”
“Eh.” Wheeljack waves him off, the chain attached to his wrist rattling from the motion, “I’m not taking that deal. I still—”
“—It’s not a deal!” Starscream’s voice cracks from anger, “You are my prisoner and you should be obeying my commands!”
“Right—okay yeah I am your prisoner but that doesn’t magically make me able to do things I couldn’t before. I haven’t even opened up the drones to examine how they work. For all I know, you might not even have the parts I need to repair them. ”
Starscream looks at him as if he might actually make good on his promise to remove Wheeljack’s arm.
But he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he scowls, his foot tapping impatiently. He hisses some curse under his breath before throwing his arms up.
“Fine! If it’s so necessary that you repair your arm, then do it, and do it now.”
Wheeljack straightens, surprised, “Wait, really?”
“I said now!”
“Uh right—” Wheeljack immediately grabs the screwdriver, starting back onto what he was doing before Starscream interrupted him.
He’s about to get to work, when he realizes something. He glances back and sees Starscream still standing there.
Wheeljack stares, dumbfounded, “Are you just going to stand there?”
Starscream glares at him, “If repairing your arm is all you want to do, then there should be no problem with my presence.”
Wheeljack frowns underneath his mask. He doesn’t like the idea being watched while he works, but if that’s the trade-off to having a solid working arm again, then he’ll take it.
“Okay. Suit yourself.”
And Wheeljack gets to work, taking the screwdriver and getting to work. Wheeljack can reach the first few screws without too much issue, but it’s the last few that are the problem. They’re all at an awkward position, nearly resting on the back of his right shoulder. It took him the good part of a solar cycle to get them in, and he doubts it’s going to be any faster trying to remove it.
He’s proven exactly right when he drops the screwdriver on his first attempt.
And the second. And the third.
It is on his eight attempt that the tool is snatched out of his hands.
“Give me that! This is just pathetic to watch.”
Wheeljack turns, surprised, “I thought repairbot work was beneath you.”
“It is, but I have more important things to do than watch you fail to do your job.”
Starscream grabs Wheeljack’s prosthetic, and while Wheeljack can’t feel it, he can see that Starscream is not being gentle with his grip. Wheeljack bites back a comment about being careful with his tech. There’s no point in asking when he knows all it would do is anger him.
Regardless, even with Starscream’s ineptitude with machinery, he manages okay. Not surprising. It doesn’t take a genius to understand the mechanisms of screwdriver and screw. With the advantage of two arms and not being forced to work at an angle, he gets the first two screws out without issue.
The next one though, Starscream stalls, seemingly not realizing the screw is holding the plating together more like a nail.
“Stop, that’s not going to work.” Wheeljack finally says, “Take the pliers and pull it out.”
Immediately, Starscream bristles. He throws the screwdriver down on the table, standing back up straight, “Excuse me? Are you trying to give me, Emperor Starscream, orders?”
Wheeljack blinks, surprised by the sudden hostility,
“Uh, no. I just thought I’d help you out.”
“I’m helping you.” Starscream corrects with a hiss, “Do I need to remind you who is in charge here?”
“No, that’s fine.” Wheeljack puts a hand up, placatingly, “I really didn’t mean to offend you. I just thought you’d want to get this done and over with.”
Starscream’s wings flare, but his scowl lessens to a frown.
“Fine. Where are the pliers?”
Wheeljack reaches for it, handing the tool to Starscream.
It’s a bizarre situation, Starscream of all people helping Wheeljack repair his arm.
With one solid tug, the screw comes loose, and the prosthetic disconnects. Without warning, Starscream lets go, and the few wires still connecting Wheeljack to the prosthetic jerk him forward. He barely manages to catch himself before his head slams into the table.
“Urgh—you could’ve given me a warning.”
“I could have.” Starscream says, sounding a little too pleased with himself.
Wheeljack readjusts, straightening as much as he could with with the prosthetic laying half on the table, still partially connected, “Well, thanks anyways.” And before Starscream can interpret it as sarcasm, Wheeljack continues, “You definitely saved me a good chunk of time, so I appreciate the helping hand.”
Starscream narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t say anything.
“Tomorrow.” He says flatly, “When I come back to see your progress, I expect to see some progress. If I see any signs you are stalling, don’t expect me to be as merciful next time.”
And Starscream turns on his heel with a scowl.
“And I will be watching.” he says, just before the door closes, and Wheeljack is left alone.
The door shuts, and Wheeljack is alone again.
Wheeljack tilts his head, thoughtfully.
Huh. Okay.
He thought Starscream would stick around for longer, but he’s defintely not going to complain about having the space to himself again.
Though... Starscream must be more desperate than Wheeljack initially thought. The fact he didn’t resort straight to violence means he must need a technician badly. Judging from the pile of drones here, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he’s starting to run low on drones.
Definitely something to keep in mind for later, but he should focus one thing at a time.
He picks up a wire cutter.
For now, he should focus on repairing his arm.