Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers!
Please R&R!
(I do believe this is my first dive into TF:A, this particular plot bunny has been sitting on my computer for nearly a year now... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!)
The Lord Mirage sighed with a weary air as his servants finished buffing his shoulder strut that had become scratched during his recharge, waving forward the other femme that approached with a sweeping metallic cloak gilded with the fine mineral that humans would have called Gold, clipping it to the sides of his plating near his neck cabling.
"What are my duties for the orn?" he asked the formal looking servant mech that fidgeted near the enterance to the room as he scrolled down the data-pad that held the Noble mechs appointments for the whole vorn.
"You have an appointment with the Council reviewing the specialised weapons branch your company manages." The bot listed as Mirage's berthroom emptied of the servants that attended him, "And a package, grievously old and slightly worn, has arrived addressed to you from a mech named…" a pause as the mech hurriedly checked the name. "Meister."
The deep blue and pearl white mech froze as he went to his berth side table to slide his less important work into the drawer and lock it.
"Good," he said noted to himself before turning to the dull burgundy servant mech. "Cancel my appointment with the council and have the package delivered to my personal office this instant."
"Yes, my Lord." The mech bowed before scurrying from the room, off to do his payer's bidding.
The Noble shed his fine cloak, specially picked out for his appointment, the fine metal material crumpling to the ground in a depressing pile the lithe mech paid no attention to as he swept out of his berthroom and entered his bland but grand office which was conveniently next door, the ceiling to floor windows looking over the Tower's gardens of Crystals and mineral trees, letting in the bright artificial light of Cybertron.
The package was waiting for him, delivered with an urgency that had met his tone to the servant that bowed out as he entered.
"You disappear for vorns and then you send me this." Mirage grumbled, pressing the automatic release, pausing in surprise as he identified a simple data-note sticking to the fancy metal box addressed to a mech named 'Jazz'.
He swiped the note from the box with a frown, examining the specific make of data-note that had only been used during the wars for a quick easy transfer of destroyable orders among the Special Operations mechs.
"Mirage," he read aloud to the sound proofed office, the silence of his retreat split by his cultured tones, "You once served under me during the Great War as my direct subordinate and one of my closest friends and confidants.
This has been sent to you because I cannot be there to give this in person to my sparkling Jazz, who you may recall I had during the last few decacycles of war. The gift is to be given to my mechling when he is a fully fledged Autobot."
Mirage paused in his reading, moving to his terminal, the keyboard flicking out of the desk in a flurry of shifting parts and rising screen. His pointed fingers swept over the board as he searched, his golden optics often flickering to a single large long photo that stretched across his far wall.
The picture in question, sitting silently on the far wall, was one of a ship's crew, mechs grinning or posing at the camera as they gathered for the photo in front of a giant orange ship. He himself was standing with a green plated mech that was trying to get him to smile, both of them directly in front of a silver mech leaning on a stoic black and white Praxian, a cheeky grin on the silver mech's faceplate.
The terminal broke his reverie as it revealed the efforts of its speedy search with a shrill chirp.
"Jazz, elite guard ninja, works under Sentinel Prime." Mirage read the biography of the young black and white mech smiling a thin smile after quickly gaining authorisation for the Ninja's files. "I see everything is in order." The Noble looked back at the note, frowning as he read the next hastily scribbled scrawl of his once superior in the Special Operations division. Meister had obviously been in a hurry.
"I didn't want to drag him into this, but I don't have much time. This package, it's the key. I also regretfully add these words before I disappear.
Operation: ARK."
Golden optics widened, the finished note falling from his servo to the floor as the Noble Mech stumbled back as if he had been burned, almost forgotten battle programming onlining with a snap as he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehelm, the screams of battle echoing in his once perfect silence as a servant entered with energon tea.
"Sir? Lord Mirage?" the servant asked curiously, worry colouring his tone as he crossed the grand barren office and slid the tray onto the desk, ornate crystal cube glittering in the light of Cybertron as the Noble Mech waved off the help straightening with his amber optics blazing like two miniature stars.
"Get this package to Designation Jazz of the Elite Guard." Mirage said lowly as he pointed to the box sitting innocently on his desk. It may be the key to saving us all…