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Vos was not a nice city.
That isn't to say that Tarn or Kaon, where Megatron had spent most of his years, were any better, but the fact remained. Despite the fame as "the flying city", where flight frames could be "free of the lies of the Primedom", the truth was that functionism was deeply rooted in Vosian ideologies, and that it was ultimately allied to Iacon and the Prime.
Which was why, of course, Megatron needed to ally with the lower castes, and bring them along on his revolution. What this meant, in this specific moment, was drinking along with some soldiers and manual workers in a bar in the low district of the city.
Megatron was surprised by how amicable they had been -- Vos was infamous for its distrust of ground frames --, but he supposed his reputation preceded him. The chitchat was not unlike the one he used to have with his coworkers after the workday was over, back when he was a miner.
"So, you lookin' for help with your crusade?" asked a large mech at some point. "I think I can get you in touch with a little fella who will do wonders, yes..."
"I'm thinking less a crusade and more a revolution, but sure," he answered. "What kind of person is this?"
The large bot laughed, and told another mech at the table, "Should I tell him about Screamer?", at which the other nodded.
"Listen up. His name is Starscream; he's the most annoying brat I've ever known, got kicked out of the Air Force, and he and his folk run a bit of a seeker crime syndicate around, but I'm pretty sure that if you can get him on your side, the entire Low District of Vos will be your ally."
In response, Megatron hummed. The mech called Starscream a brat -- was he freshly constructed? Before he could think too hard on it, the smaller mech spoke up.
"Pretty sure he's got connections in the High District as well. And he hates the Winglord to boot, probably would kill the mech if asked," he said, and a mean smile slipped into his face. "Maybe even without asking, now that I think about it."
A round of laughter -- it was clear that no one in this table would care much if the Winglord vanished without explanation. Megatron felt right at home. Still...
"How old is he? I want someone who's trustworthy, not a fresh out of the factory kid playing mafioso," he insisted.
"Heh, in this city you shouldn't trust the floor you're walking on to not fall away, grounder. Screamer's the real deal, even if a bit of a snake," the large mech said, taking a sip of engex. "That said, I don't know his age for sure. He completed the War Academy and went to Iacon for a degree I think? I'd say eight hundred thousand."
A snicker.
"No way," another mech chimed in, her voice gravely, "his little group has been around for that long, I'm betting you fifty shanix he's 1.2 million or older."
As soon as she said it, the table became a mess of people betting on this seeker's age, and Megatron decided to think better on it later. For now, he'd simply get to know his public a little more, and maybe fish for other information on Starscream.
In the end, the smaller bot, a black seeker, had been the one to give Megatron an age estimate (nearly a million, old enough that no one would think he was manipulating freshly made people) and an address, along with a recommendation of times to visit. Megatron was not stupid: he could tell the other was a part of the syndicate, having access to this kind of information. Maybe he'd been sent specifically for this? Or maybe that was too paranoid.
In any case, Megatron found himself at nearly the bottom of the Lower District, close to the edges of the city, at one of the specified times -- the first available timeslot, in fact. It might be paranoia, but he decided not to keep this Starscream waiting for too long. He was in unknown territory, after all.
It was a shitty little apartment building, which he got into without meeting anyone, and then the shittiest little apartment door, a rusting slab of metal just to separate the place from the outside world. Megatron hung the doorbell.
The footsteps were characteristic of heeled folk. Heavy, too.
As the door opened, he almost didn't see the inside of the apartment: all he could see was a large seeker, mostly blue with some light gray. He had a dark head with a light face, and bore a striking resemblance to someone Megatron couldn't quite place.
"Is there a problem?" the mech asked, in a deep voice.
"No," he answered. "My name is Megatron. I'm here to speak with Starscream? A seeker, black and purple, sent me here."
The blue seeker looked surprised, but opened the door to let him inside.
"I'm Thundercracker. I didn't think you'd actually come. Let me fetch Starscream and Skywarp so we can talk."
As Skywarp and Starscream came into the living room and everyone sat at the small table, Megatron came to understand a few things. First, the black seeker from the bar was Skywarp, who smiled big and bright upon seeing him. Second, they must be a trine, which was a concept Megatron was sure only seekers fully understood, but it was obvious from their demeanor around each other. Third, despite the different colors and bodyshapes, they all shared the exact same face, every detail identical. And fourth... Starscream was really short. Even shorter than Skywarp, who was at shoulder-height with Thundercracker. It didn't matter, of course, but Megatron found it funny.
Starscream was mostly red, with some gray and blue, and a very dark head. Despite sharing the same face as the other two, he seemed to... wear it better, in a way, make it work. Like it was his originally, and the other two merely copied it. He also had a very big, very pink splatter on his left wing -- energon, and fresh. Some of it was also on his fingers, which ended in long, sharp talons.
It was then that it hit Megatron: he was alone with three warframes in an unknown place at the bottom of a city that despised his frametype. He was bigger than even Thundercracker, sure, and a gladiator, but they had the numbers to overwhelm him. And they could fly.
As he opened his vents discreetly to try and stabilize his thoughts, Starscream snorted.
"Are you sure this is the right guy, Warp?" he asked. "Seems a bit anxious for the mighty Megatron, if I do say so myself."
Skywarp laughed, loudly.
"I swear! He's just mesmerized by your unending beauty is all."
"Don't try to sweet talk me into anything, you can't fool me. And we have the same face!"
Before it could become a squabble, Thundercracker showed a datapad to the red seeker.
"Fits the description, and also the photos on the posters," he said. "In any case, he came all the way here, so I say we hear him out."
The apartment was then deadly quiet. Starcream leaned forward, smirking, and then said, "Skywarp here tells me you want Vos on the Decepticon side, hm? Even though the Winglord and the Prime are so buddy-buddy they might as well be cabling, these days."
Megatron nodded, trying not to think of the two leaders plugging into each other.
"Yes, that is true. But I don't want the Winglord's favor -- he's a functionist bastard, and that won't change. I want the people of Vos. The ones that are left behind by the Winglord's poor leadership," he said.
"How kind, mighty Megatron," was the answer. "You do understand that I'm not exactly a good person, yes? Do you really think it is a good idea to come to me for help?"
A frustrated sigh. Of course he didn't -- the mech ran a crime syndicate, for Primus' sake. Still...
"I was told people respect you enough to follow your lead. What I need is not a paragon of good, it's someone who can make people realize this city, and Cybertron as a whole, can change," Megatrin admitted. "I talked to people around. They know you're trouble, but they also know you can make such change happen. I'm here to be the catalyst, is all."
There was silence -- even Skywarp, who'd been humming a melody throughout the exchange, stopped. All three seekers looked at each other, as though talking about it. (Megatron didn't know if trine-exclusive communication channels really existed, but he didn't doubt it. Vos had always been secretive about its favored cold constructed war frametype.)
"We will consider joining the Decepticons," Starscream eventually said, "though we have a few requirements."
"As long as they're reasonable," Megatron agreed.
"No one else other than my trine is allowed to murder the Winglord," the seeker said, and to his side Skywarp gave a thumbs up and a wink. "And my trine will lead your Air Force, which you sorely need. My seekers will be a good start for it, but we'll work on that."
Megatron considered the proposition. Starscream wasn't asking for that much, as the Winglord would have to die by someone's hands anyways, and an Air Force would be highly welcome to the Decepticon army. It seemed almost too little, even, but he wasn't about to complain.
"It's a deal, then," he said, offering his hand to shake. "I look forward to working with you, Starscream."
In response, the seeker simply smiled a nasty smile and took his hand. The other two, quiet for most of the conversation, shared the same look on their faces.
When he left the building, and later the city entirely, Megatron couldn't help but feel like he'd been tricked into something. But he also knew that having the support of Vos could be the difference between a successful revolution and a failed one, so he tried to drop the line of thought. Despite his many years in the role, leadership still felt like a burden, sometimes -- no matter how much he hoped it would change.
The death of the Winglord appeared on the holo news channel Megatron watched a mere month or so after his going to Vos. This was not bad, per se, but it was unexpected.
As the reporter explained, the biggest crime syndicate on Vos had united with the population of the Lower District of Vos to overthrow the Winglord, in an act of rebellion never seen before in the city-state. The leaders of this rebellion were a trine of seekers from the syndicate, one of which had decapitated the Winglord and hung his head in front of the Aerie.
Megatron had to admit, this was impressive. It was almost like Starscream had just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to unite his people, and Megatron simply got him that. It was possible: the mech had the airs of an avid schemer.
In any case, soon after he got two comms, one from an unidentified frequency and the other from Soundwave.
::Starscream: appears competent. Megatron: made a good decision. Soundwave: will begin preparations,:: was the extent of Soundwave's message. Not unusual, but it was good anyway to know that his right-hand mech was pleased with his choice.
The other message...
::Take this as Vos officially joining the Decepticons,:: it read. ::My folks and I will be cleaning the city of dissidents for the next few weeks. We await other instructions. I have the feeling things will get interesting soon.::
Megatron smiled. With Vos under Decepticon control, the entire situation changed. He decided to finish watching the news before doing any planning, but his mind was racing already.
Interesting, indeed.