Do the stars still shine bright...

Somewhere above this eternal night...?

"Aargh! Get off!" The Enforcer swung out wildly, fist half-transformed into a blaster when it hit something that made a solid 'oomph'.

The blaster shot seared through sensor-rich plating effortlessly, the bright flare of agony a painful blaze in the icy-cold darkness beneath the Towers. The under-fueled mech crumpled into the shadows, jagged metal plates pulling close to his back as he miserably cowered away from the Enforcer's disdainful gaze. The other alley-mechs paid little attention, though a slow trickle of glowing blue from his wing drew a few hungry glances from the nearest ones.

"These Empties... I swear they're everywhere nowadays." The guard clomped off, grumbling about the four parallel scratches in his previously flawless paint.

Dull rust-red plating shuddered, black claws twitching weakly as the mech huddled against the cold ground. Searing pain lanced through his damaged appendage when he tried to push himself upright. How easy it would be to offline his optics right here, to surrender to the darkness-

-NO. He could still get up, could still crawl to safety. He had to do it, or the others would scrap him for parts, instead of the other way around. Survival - that was all that mattered down here. With considerable effort, the mech dragged himself to his pedes, giving the retreating Enforcer's blaster an envious look before he retreated deeper into the shadowy alley.

Energon slowly dripped from the wound on his left dorsal plate - a dented metal trapezoid that had long since lost the ability to carry out its function. He grimaced, grabbing at the wall for support as he frantically shut down pain sensors and rerouted energon flow. Dim red optics flickered tiredly, but he ignored the flashing alerts that warned of critically low fuel levels. He'd already been dangerously low on energon - he would never have risked attacking a well-fueled, armed Enforcer otherwise - but now, with a leaking wound, he was quickly running out of time.

His pede struck something that twitched and moaned. Red optics brightened fractionally as he congratulated the opportune timing of his latest find: the scuffed, but still unmistakably well-cared for, frame of an overcharged city-bot. The bright orange paint was a dead giveaway - even here, at the base of the Towers, where natural light never reached, the bot's striking neon paint job gleamed.

"S-stay away," it pleaded shakily. The bot was very much aware; unfocused optics shone a piercing blue as the ragged mech approached. Once close enough, he desperately tore at the bot's prone frame. Blunt digits - the worn-down remainders of once-razor sharp claws - scrabbled over the shiny plating, searching for the tiny chinks in standard armor that gave access to valuable internal systems.

"N-no-"

The mech's servo closed tiredly around the tiny chamber, weakly crushing inward as the bright blue spark sputtered and died...

...as does all light in the endless darkness...

The bot's weak screams might have attracted another scavenger's attention, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, because there was energon in the deactivated shell - precious energon. The mech fell upon the shell, gulping down the processed energon, clumsily angling his under-fueled frame to hide its dull blue glow from passersby. As energy flowed through his systems once more, crimson optics flared, brighter than they had been for vorns. He straightened from the drained bot with a predatory grin, feeling charge flow through long-underpowered weapons systems. Self-repair, finally receiving the power it needed to function at its normal pace, quickly sealed up the leaking gash on one dorsal plate.

He snarled at another mech who dared approach. This was his find, the energon was his to consume, and the parts would be his to sell on the Market. Crouching protectively over his recent kill, he pointed one arm-mounted laser towards the intruder. A high-pitched whine filled the still air as it powered up, causing the other mech to back away with both servos raised. However, he made no move to intercept the other retreating scavenger. His battle computer was still offline, as it had been for nearly a megavorn, and the energon he had just extracted from his victim was far too precious to waste on unnecessary exertions.

The laser powered down to a lower setting once the intruder was far enough away. He scoffed at the other mech's reaction - the lasers on his servos were medical-grade and possessed neither the range nor spread of military-grade photonic weaponry. Nevertheless, the other mech's ignorant fear was his own gain, and he wasted little time returning to his victim's prone frame.

An energy beam lanced from one laser, slicing easily through thin civilian armor. He carved through bright orange plating, carefully peeling the frame open and exposing the valuable internals. The shiny, almost factory-new mechanisms instantly drew his attention. He carefully severed the most valuable components' connections to the rest of the frame with short, precise laser bursts. Those pieces were subspaced, followed by everything else of value that could possibly fit in his pockets. Time was of the essence - the bright orange plating was already starting to grey around the edges, and no buyer would purchase degraded parts.

Other scavengers were starting to gather; the frame was too large for him to carry, so it was best to cut his losses and take what he could before they overwhelmed him through sheer force of numbers. He set out for the buyer's shop on one of the upper levels, subspace loaded with cannibalized parts and fuel levels higher than they had been for vorns.

It would've been mid-orn by now - Iacon's towers would blaze with golden fire; the great spires of Vos would glow with Hadeen's brilliant glory. However, the crisscrossing roads and towers that extended far above Cybertron's surface cast the Market in a perpetual dusk. The Market was not, by any definition of the term, a market. Rather, it was the criminal hub protected by the local boss, and, as such, the home of all sorts of back-alley deals, shady businesses, and unlawful activities. Unlike the lowest levels, where Enforcers regularly went to practice shooting moving targets or vent their frustration on unfortunate locals, no law-abiding bot dared set foot in the Market. The only Enforcers here were also dealers or buyers.

The dark red mech emerged from the pitch-black shadows of the ground level, frantically lowering his optics' sensitivity when his vision went to static from the blinding intensity of the Market level's diffuse infrared glow. One servo raised, shielding his optics from the excess light, while the other fumbled along the sides of his helm for the chipped edges of a scratched visor that no longer consciously retracted. The light reduced to a more tolerable - yet still uncomfortable - brightness as he made his way to an unassuming doorway guarded by a large tank.

"Yeah? Watcha want, Empty?"

"Is Chopper in?" The mech un-subspaced a severed orange servo. "I got some merch he'll want to look at."

"Is that a- eugh!" The tank peered closer at the mech. "Hey, you're that spare parts creep who was here last decaorn, right? Fancy seeing you again."

The tank called his boss on comms. "Chopper! Your supplier's here, wings and all! Well, maybe not so much with the wings," he chortled, pointedly eyeing the blaster mark on one of the mech's dorsal plates as he opened the door.

Wings. Wings are for flying...

...but the dark red mech hadn't flown since before the beginning of the Golden Age. He resolutely ignored the jab at his frametype, shouldering past the burly guard and swiftly striding down the tunnel towards Chopper's office. No, he might not have actively used his wings, but they were a vital part of his being, and he would go offline before he sold them, no matter how many energon cubes interested customers offered him. To the Market-mechs, they were valuable parts, but, to him, they were priceless relics of what he had once been. The same went for his t-cog - and, really, any part of him. He had no problems harvesting and trading other mechs' parts, but his own were his to keep.

The doors to Chopper's office parted before the mech could knock, revealing four mechs: two enormous guards, Chopper's dark-green-and-gold tetrajet apprentice, and Chopper himself.

"Ah, it's you," he drawled, sipping a glowing cube of refined energon. The scrap-dealing rotary impatiently waved one perfectly-painted servo, signaling one of the guards to drag over a table. "Let's see what you've got this time."

"I got lucky today, Boss," the dark red mech said, emptying his subspace and spreading the multitude of orange parts across the table. "Found some high-class bot just laying in the street. Good quality parts, too - nothing like the rusty components from the last few Empties."

"Hmm," Chopper grunted, waving his apprentice over to inspect the parts. When the dark green flier nodded and returned to his side, he tapped something on a datapad. "Let's see... I'll give you a cube for them."

"A cube each?" The mech's crimson optics widened in shock. "You're too generous-"

"No. A cube for the lot."

"WHAT!?" The mech jerked forwards in an aborted lunge, servos twitching in little strangling motions as he glared at Chopper. "That's highway robbery! These are worth at least ten times as much!"

"No can do, kid. One cube for these parts and you get to keep those wings, or no cubes and my guards scrap you for spare parts." A guard towered menacingly over the mech, clamping a massive servo over his damaged wing. "Take it or leave it."

"But that's- that'll barely get me through the next orn!"

Chopper shrugged. "Not my problem. Business is business, and besides, do you know how difficult it is to sell custom-made parts?"

"Uh..."

"Much more difficult than scrapping a standard Seeker model and selling the parts," he purred, a dark gleam in his optics. The guard's servo tightened on the mech's wing. A second later, Chopper leaned back again, lazily swilling his energon as he stared the dark red mech down. "So consider yourself lucky I'm feeling generous this orn."

"But-"

Chopper's servo casually waved, silencing the mech. "Wise choice. Somebot give this mech his cube and get him out of my sight."

Chopper's apprentice gave the mech a pitying smile as he pushed a glowing cube into his servos. Not for the first time, the mech considered carving Chopper into his component parts, but the guard's impatient grunt returned him to reality. He jerkily subspaced the precious cube, yanked his damaged wing out of the guard's grasp, and marched out of the office.

Far, far above, Hadeen's light blazed above Cybertron, casting the planet into a glittering rainbow of metallic hues.

Back on the ground level, the mech looked at the inky blackness above, wondering if Cybertron still orbited a star. After a time, he retreated, shaking his helm at his foolishness. Star or no star, it mattered little - down here, the night was eternal.

Some units:
orn - day
decaorn - 10 orns / 1 week
vorn - year
megavorn - 1,000,000 years

Like it? Review and stay tuned for more next time!
~VoidStarFire