"Hello, Karl. You can call me Skygnaw."
Of the six humans who had stumbled into that abandoned chemical plant, Skygnaw knew Karl's nature best. He was the most malleable—and the most motivated by material gain.
"Right... Mr. Skygnaw. What... what do you want?" Knowing the name made Karl relax, if only slightly. In his mind, an alien wouldn't introduce itself unless it planned on keeping him alive for a while.
"Karl, I'm offering you an opportunity for both fame and fortune. Are you interested?"
Wealth and power—the twin sirens of the human race. No one turns them down easily. The seeds Skygnaw had planted months ago were finally ready to bloom.
"What kind of opportunity?" Karl's eyes lit up. The terror in his expression was being rapidly overtaken by a flicker of intense greed, like a man signing a pact with a demon.
"Simple," Skygnaw rumbled with a mechanical hum that served as a smile. "Collaborate with me. I can help you obtain everything you've ever desired. Even a lifespan far exceeding that of a normal human isn't out of the question..."
"Every... everything? Mr. Skygnaw, you're serious?" Karl stammered. The bit about lifespan didn't quite land—he was young, after all—but "everything else" was impossible to ignore.
"How would we work together? And what do I have to do?"
Trading with a Decepticon was like playing with fire in a gas station, but Karl's hunger for the high life finally crushed his fear. Skygnaw watched him with amusement. He had expected more hesitation, but Karl's quick decision proved he was the right tool for the job.
"I will provide you with capital and technology," Skygnaw explained. "You will use them to create or acquire a company. In return, I need you to procure specific Earth-based metals and materials for me."
Building four High-Class Chassis required resources that would take Skygnaw far too long to scavenge personally. Even Starscream struggled to fund High-Class bodies for his grunts; Skygnaw needed a human proxy to buy the materials on the open market.
Karl swallowed hard. "Mr. Skygnaw... how much 'capital' are we talking about?"
"Not much. Exactly one hundred million dollars, minus sixty thousand."
Karl's jaw hit the floor. He stood frozen, mouth agape, unable to process a number that large. Skygnaw remained indifferent; wealth was merely a lubricant for his gears. He chose Karl because a greedy, mediocre man is easier to control than a brilliant one with principles. With Skygnaw's tech, even a pig could fly; he didn't need a genius, just someone who followed orders.
Before Karl was sent back on the back of Black Panther, Skygnaw handed him a drive containing technical data salvaged from Sentinel Prime's ship. It wasn't true Cybertronian tech—that would be too disruptive—but rather advancements in consumer electronics and materials science that would naturally emerge in the next five to ten years. In 2007, a world without smartphones, this was a "legal" cheat code for a business empire.
After the drone returned, Skygnaw recalled it and took to the sky, heading northwest. En route back to the Konnas Canyon base, a high-frequency transmission from Soundwave pinged his systems:
[TRANS: Skygnaw. Our reinforcements are approaching Earth. I have transmitted the base coordinates to the vanguard.]
Reinforcements? Skygnaw's optics narrowed. He wasn't surprised—Megatron's death was a flare in the dark for the entire faction—but the base was already getting crowded. Between Airachnid's ego and a fresh wave of Decepticon warriors, his private research might get complicated.
However, recalling the recent report from Brawl, Skygnaw's processors smoothed out.
[TRANS: Acknowledged, Lord Soundwave. Skygnaw out.]
The next morning, Karl didn't sleep. The moment the sun rose, he pulled a sleek, high-limit bank card from under his pillow. Its gold-and-black filigree screamed luxury. He kissed the cold plastic. It's real. I'm not dreaming.
He spent the first half of the day on a manic shopping spree, buying every luxury item he had ever been afraid to look at twice. By evening, the adrenaline cleared enough for him to remember his mission.
In this country, money is God. Karl quickly found a premier consulting firm to handle the "urgent" incorporation of his new venture. When the managing director bowed nearly ninety degrees to see him out, Karl felt a surge of exhilaration.
As of today, he was a "Success Story."
Back at Konnas Canyon, Skygnaw landed to find Airachnid and Scalpel swarming over her V-shaped ship. They seemed remarkably familiar with one another.
If Airachnid truly was a biological-to-Cybertronian conversion, then Scalpel might be of the same origin, Skygnaw mused. It explained why the tiny doctor felt comfortable talking back to Starscream.
Airachnid was fully revived now. Her purple-and-black chassis gleamed with a predatory sheen, and the golden circuitry at her joints pulsed with energy. Her eight dark-red compound eyes—four on her head, four on her chest—focused on him as she skittered down from the hull with an arachnid's grace.
"Skygnaw? That's your name?" She moved with a swaying, lethal elegance that felt strangely... feminine, for a machine.
"Yes, Lady Airachnid," Skygnaw replied, keeping his distance.
"Scalpel says you're the one who pulled me from the humans' cage. You've done well. Tell me... what do you want as a reward?"
Skygnaw felt a flicker of confusion. He had heard of her ruthlessness, but she was acting like a generous benefactor. Scalpel skittered over before he could answer.
"Airachnid, I've already handled Skygnaw's compensation. Don't worry your pretty head about it. My reward will be much more to his liking." Scalpel turned to Skygnaw. "Follow me. The four High-Class Information Chips are ready. The logic gates are as you requested."
"Thank you, Lord Scalpel."
As they walked into the base, Scalpel nudged him. "So, you were gone a while. Find any trace of Megatron's body?"
"No. The humans are being careful. But with Soundwave's reinforcements arriving, we'll have enough eyes on the ground to find the scent soon enough."
"Reinforcements..." Scalpel whirred thoughtfully. "I wonder which of our 'dear friends' is making the trip this time."
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