Title: The Primrose Path
Summary: Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven.
Notes: For crimson_optics January prompt, so cross posted there. This is my first attempt at Transformers so don't be too harsh. Feedback is always welcome.
He dismissed Shockwave with a snarl and a threat. While the fit a pique was unbecoming it soothed some of his frayed patience. Better to abuse those already sworn to his banner than those he was currently attempting to entice. An attempt he was increasingly regretting as it appeared the political bandying he was loathed to stoop to was getting him nowhere.
He suppressed another growl as he stomped his way down the increasingly darkened street, moving toward a more dilapidated neighborhood with its shattered lamps and heavily shielded windows and doors. Perhaps he was looking for a fight to clear his processor, an anonymous exchange of blows with some gutter scum too stupid or overcharged to realize he was no one's mark. It would certainly satisfy his desire to cave someone's head in without resorting to spontaneous assault on his current hosts. Unfortunately the streets were empty, the universe intent to thwarting him in all things today.
The only hint that he was not as alone as he first thought was the slight hint of ozone on the air before a voiced hissed from the shadows.
"They will never see reason, you know."
He whirled towards the voice, his hand instantly grabbing for the mech hidden in the darkened doorway. He made contact with sharp angles, a yelp his reward, as he clamped his hand down on surprisingly delicate metal.
"Mind the wings you oaf!" the voice shrieked, a hard shove on his grasping hand accompanying the exclamation.
He ignored the demand and the shove, opting to jerk the mystery bot out from his cover. The mech stumbled out from the doorway and into him, listing to one side as he kept his grip on one elegant wing.
The lurch was must have been exaggerated as the flyer recovered quickly, the wine of a weapon charging filling the space between them, the slight point of heat in his midsection a good indication of where the barrel now rested.
"I said mind the wings!" the prompt was emphasized with a jab of the barrel against his armor.
He let go this time, chuckling as he stepped back from the weapon. Perhaps he would get to administer his thrashing after all.
"If you do not want to get your wings bent out of shape I suggest you stop skulking in doorways surprising random mechs," he said, crossing his arms as he surveyed his companion.
The other straightened himself, sneer firmly in place. "Hardly random," the airframe muttered craning his neck to survey the damage, nonchalantly turning away from his assailant. "I was waiting for you."
He perked up at this, uncrossing his arms and leaning slightly forward. "Were you now? And why is that?"
The other mech turned back towards him, sneer gone, and a sly smirk in its place. "Why not join me in my skulking and you might find out," he indicated the darkened doorway behind him with a sweep of his arm.
He let out a snort. "And get jumped by your friends as soon as I cross the threshold, what do you take me for?"
The smile soured. "Someone who is wasting his time with a clutch of dithering old fools. Mark my words; you will gain no support for your cause from that quarter."
The assertion had the desired effect as he found himself taking a step forward, bending down to come face to face with his shorter companion. "Where then might I find it?" he rumbled softly.
The flyer kept eye contact for only a few beats before his gaze skittered away, flitting about to take in their surroundings. The message was clear: the middle of the street, even a seemingly deserted one, was not the place for these revelations.
He reached out again, a tad more gently, and took his advisor by the shoulder this time, turning him towards the door.
"After you."
There was no gang of thugs waiting for them. In fact there was little at all in the room other than a metal table, two chairs, and a stuttering overhead light.
"Your hospitality is staggering," he commented as he brushed past his host to take an unoffered seat. Leaning back he waited.
"I'm here to offer something greater than crystal chandeliers and energon fountains!" his host barked, storming over to take the opposite seat.
He quirked an eye ridge and again waited.
"An army," the other finally declared, placing his hands palm down on the table, self satisfied.
He could not maintain his silence, but bust out in a hearty laugh, incredulous.
The hands between them curled into fists. "You doubt me."
It was not a question.
Mirth fading, he shook his head, taking in his surroundings with great exaggeration. "Forgive my skepticism."
"I will not!" the fists banged into the table top, denting. "I offer you a chance to swell your ranks and you mock me, all the while appealing to sightless fools who will give you nothing but scorn in the end."
"The only fool I see is you," he snarled.
It was the flyer's turn to done his scorn. "The only one who can inspire a fool is another of his ilk," he countered.
Unsure of whether it was an attempt to flatter or offend, his ego prevailed and he took it for the former. "You admit to inspiration?"
His host tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Your cause has potential, but a revolution needs mechs of vision and soldiers with grit. The elders you court here are stagnant, too busy bowing and scraping to a corrupt Council and their parasite twisted Primes to heed your call."
"Yet you will heed it? You reject the rule of the law and the power of the Matrix to put your faith in me?"
His companion scoffed, "I conceded inspiration, not adoration. I have faith in one thing, and one thing only…my own abilities."
"Take comfort in that, for if what I have seen so far is any indication they shall impress no one else."
"You haven't listened to my proposition yet."
"No," he agreed, "but excess bluster and bravado tend to dampen ones audios."
"Then I suggest you listen attentively." After a moment to ensure he was not about to get up a leave, his host continued, "you have a contact within the Council I presume."
"Presumption comes naturally to you I see," he said. This was dangerous ground. He was not so secure in his position yet to tip his hand to random strangers. This bot could be a member of the security force, or a mole sent to gather intelligence for the current negations.
"I cannot see you starting on this venture if you did not," was the only reply. "Tell your contact to leak the existence of these meetings between you and the city elders to the Council."
He actually leapt from his chair at the suggestion. "I was mistaken; you are no fool, but an idiot!"
"It is the Council which is populated by idiots! They fear you! They hear whispers of you and your deeds. If one of those whispers reveals that you court this city, they will panic in the most advantageous of ways."
"You said the elders will not support me," he countered.
"They won't, but the Council will not take the chance, they will strike. They have done it before…a whiff of rebellion and mining colonies have been razed. With your shadow looming over them they will not hesitate to flatten this city."
He could not fault the logic, but motives seemed murky. "You suggest the annihilation of your own people?"
"They are not my people. If they cannot rouse themselves to fight I leave them to their fate. If you do not do this, one of two things will happen: they will side with the Council when open war breaks out, which makes them your enemy, or they will attempt to stay neutral…which makes them your enemy! Why not take care of the problem now and be done with it?"
He sat back down. "You promised me an army."
The face his companion pulled twisted his features most unbecomingly. "It's simple. Anyone who manages to survive the Council's little object lesson will surely pledge themselves to your side. Your words will ring truer to them, and all those witness, in the aftermath than all the speeches and secret negotiations combined."
"No one else will dare support me after such a demonstration."
"If they will not dare than they are not worthy. What better way to weed out the weak willed and craven…you would not want them anyway. "
They sat in silence for a moment, their words hanging between them. He could see the shrewdness in the flyer's plan; he was getting nowhere with the elders and despite Shockwave's insistence that he persevere he was about ready to wash his hands of them. Why bother trying to coax a bunch of obsolete thinkers, who would no doubt hinder him, to his side when with one fell swoop he could garner support from those of like mind? It was a neat little scheme but certain points still niggled, the most obvious being seated across from him an expectant look on his face.
"You will throw your lot in with me, but we have already established that you are not the type of submit to another's command easily. Why me, why now?"
The other seemed surprised. "Why not now? I have a destiny and I tire of waiting for it. Cybertron shifts beneath our feet, I can feel it. You will make rubble of our decaying cities, I know it, and I plan not to be at the bottom of the pile."
Everything began to fall into place. He knew this mech, he once thought himself the same until he realized he possessed that which elevated him above them all. Yes, he would use this flyer as thoroughly as he sought to be used.
"Your ambition outpaces your courage," he imparted. "You need me to trap you on a path in which you cannot escape, or else you would flee and lose your goal."
The other mech looked outraged, mouth opening to protest, but he raised a hand to stop the outburst. "I will instruct my contact on what to do. I suggest you, and any brethren you might have, leave the city at once. It would not do to find you at the bottom of a pile of rubble once the Council moves."
He rose to leave, his co-conspirator following behind him. Once they were out onto the street once again he turned for some final words.
"I will lead you down the path, but note there are no forks in this road. It only leads to one place."
"Glory or death?" his companion asked archly.
His only answer was a malevolent smile, which lifted upwards when the flyer walked a few paces away calling back his parting shot. "What need I of a road?" he said, leaping into the air to transform.
End