This place seems so new and horrifying

He clears his throat, turning away as soon as he notices that Magnus notices his amusement.

“To be prepared for his arrival.” Predaking replies, dead serious. “I’ve been warned that he’s close by and he’s watching everyone so I don’t know how much he knows. This is why I need the most unpredicable force in the galaxy to accompany me as I face this unwelcomed impostor. In the worst case scenario you’ll be there to give me a proper funeral and spread the word about my sacrifice.”

“What exactly do you think he’s going to do, Predaking?” Smokescreen sighs, unsure if telling him the truth would be enough, and pauses, thinking.

    “I made it myself.”

“… Oh. Him.”

After a moment of thinking, Predaking finally remebers the described mech. It was the Decepticon who stared at him weirdly whenever he was passing by.

“Yes, we did spend some time on the same ship.”

“Hmm.” From Predaking’s response, it may not have been a positive memory – in which case, Ultra Magnus hoped he hadn’t suggested an interaction that would result in tragedy. Still, he now had a list of mecha to notify of an incoming Predacon, as well as reaching out to the humans should Bulkhead not have the skills Predaking required (and he greatly suspected that the breen mech would not). 

Great, a clear answer. One thing left to know.

“Who is that again?”

Perhaps it was a little surprising the Predaking didn’t know the red medic by name, considering they had once been a part of the same faction. But, it was possible that Shockwave had not permitted Knock Out near his creation should he have sustained injuries from battle.

After a moment of thinking, Predaking finally remebers the described mech. It was the Decepticon who stared at him weirdly whenever he was passing by.

“Good.” Predaking nods. “In that case the only thing left on the list is paint. Do you know where I can find knowledge how to make it?”

Ultra Magnus did, indeed, know someone who’s knowledge of paint far surpassed his own. (To which to say, he did not possess any knowledge of paint, but he digressed.)

“Oh, no. You misunderstood. I don’t need anything from you of all living beings.” Predaking joins his claws, giving Magnus a soft, very small smug grin. “I need you to find someone who can show me how to make them so I can craft them myself. I am not keen on having something that was already used by others.”

Unbothered by the jab, Ultra Magnus made quick work of disseminating what he knew.

“The only bot among us with construction skills is Bulkhead – and his skillset is constructing architecture, not furniture. No one of such a background has returned to Cybertron, either.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Had the Archives not been destroyed, instructions on the how-to’s of constructing furniture would likely have been found there.”

Perhaps, should Predaking persist, an arrangement with their Earth allies would be in order – though Ultra Magnus was loath to place the small organics in a place of danger.

“A list of things I require.” Predaking dimply states, crossing his arms. “I am renovating my place of living and decided to add some practical objects of every day use.”

Ultra Magnus hummed in acknowledgement as he thought through how to phrase his response. He doubted a simple ‘no’ would go over well.