PART 4

#Brief

Slowing down to a stop before a large double door, Prowl turned his optics to him. "This would be your private quarter. Though you all are privileged to owning your own quarters each if you so choose to join us, I highly doubt any of you would prefer spliting up, so a divided single condo might suit you best."

Not wasting any time, the mech typed something on his servo's datapad, and simultaneously the door was unlocked with a ping. "It can be remotely unlocked with the correct password, and though the security level may not be top-of-the-line, I assure you that without an at least competent hacker to override the circuits entirely, it would keep out 70% of the residents around here." Then he stepped into the room, not bother looking back to see if Soundwave and his minions are still following him, secured with the knowledge that they themselves at the mention of the dream suite had already been shivering with anticipation since the beginning of their tour, which wasn't that much far off from the truth if all the excitement assaulting his telepathic processor was of any indication.

Upon entrance, they were all slack-jawed as the spacious interior betrayed every conjection made from the average appearance of the door as observed from outside. Though not exactly silver and platinum-coated to every inch, the metallic shine of new, either unused or really, really well-maintained furniture gave the impression of otherwise. Prowl wasn't bluffing when he described the Enforcers' living quarters like a chapter out of "Iacon's most desired penthouse", in fact if anything was amiss from making the room a perfect rendition of a page in that dream catalogue then it would be the lack of colourful decorations, to which both Soundwave and his cassettes frowned upon. True to his words, at a corner stood an Energon dispensor with extra fine filtering added to eliminate dissolved metal and preserve the best purity of Energon as science would allow; a large holographic screen occupied the center of the room, with a comfortable matress-covered recliner made up the living area. From the far back was a screen separating the room from the wash racks, and smaller single doors around the walls led into what Soundwave assumed would be individual berthrooms. His creations quickly disappeared behind these doors while vocalizing rather loudly which room was their property, followed by moans of comfort as they tried out their personal berths, eliciting a chuckle from the stoic tactician and himself in response. With a large switch, Prowl turned on the energy, and light flooded the room down to every corner. Gesturing to the large armchair, he walked the length of the quarter to open the blinds, allowing surplus natural sunlight to trickle a soft golden hue onto every surface, effectively taking away his breath if he actually was an organic creature.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" He grinned, and still unable to form any cohesive respond yet, the telepath wordlessly nodded. "Well, don't get used to it so soon, because we still have plenty to discuss, now that your subordinates are preoccupied."

"What?" The idea of conversing while his creations weren't present immediately brought Soundwave back from the land of astonishment and crashing down hard on reality, his every senses coming to live with an alertness that tether somewhere on the verge of outright paranoia. Acknowledging this, Prowl calmly gestured to the recliner again, but turning to face him totally from his view of the window. "I assure you, it wouldn't devour you or spit acid at your backstrut while you are sitting on it." Realizing how his attempt at humour to disperse the tension only succeed in thickening it further, he groaned. "Oh, for Primus' sake, just… stand there where you feel comfortable, I'll sit on the fragging thing."

"So?" Soundwave asked warily, though his telephic abilities assured him that no malice intentions were responsible for Prowl's questionable behaviour. The fact that the mech decided to disclose whatever information without his creations around still stood to make him vigilant. As a token of trust, the mech let down his mental shield, and every thoughts storming around inside his hyper-clocked processor rushed over the prodding tendril and overwhelmed his every senses.

"I actually notice you prying down my shield the whole trip, but I would much prefer to be behind private walls before gaining you access." The mech thought out loud rather than bothering with his vocalizer, which Soundwave soon realized to be his favourite way of communication with the telepath whenever only the two of them are involved. "Anyway, I would require your signature in this application form first, as standard protocols would have it." He unsubspaced a datapad and handed it over. "Take your time to go over the details of our contract, though I assure you there is nothing that I haven't mentioned in one way or another on our way here."

Sensing absolute honesty from the mech, Soundwave scrolled down to the bottom to apply his distinctive energy signature. "No need."

"Good. The less time wasted, the better. Energon?" The mech offered, as if to cover up his bubbling anxiety, but the futile motion was met with a curt decline. "Anyway, you probably noticed I've all but dropped every formalities since we entered this room, and so did you, so I assume such is unnecessary, let's get it out of the way first, shall we?" His optics tinted with a foreign shade of blue Soundwave never saw before, signifying whatever about to be unleashed was no ordinary matter. Evidential enough was how the mech's thought process became intermingled with emotion, strongest and easiest to distinguish was desperation as it bled into his mental voice, and Soundwave no longer lingered from afar after realizing how serious the situation was. "So, what've you learnt so far?"

"Everything you've thought of so far."

"Good. Then you've probably known about the damage and my… 'forced promotion' – for lack of a better term." Soundwave nodded. "Well, that's true, all of it. Everthing from the Decepticon's disappearance - speaking of which…

"We're not together anymore."

"I've gathered as much. Do I need to know the details?" Meeting with a firm shake of the navy mech's helm, he continued. "You being here is all the confirmation I need to clarify your current affiliation, though I'm afraid I might need further evidence or proof that you wouldn't relapse." "Back to the other faction" remained unsaid.

"My word. The time we spent together under that lab. Me hauling your frozen frame around despite my own risk of getting caught. "

"Nice try, though I may need a little more persuasion than that."

"Your judgement of character. Or, would you rather, your exact calculation and estimation of the probability that I would defect back to the other side based on my behavioural data you've collected and assessed up until now." This one hit the spot, and Prowl couldn't help but smirked. "Very well then. Standard protocols would never have this, and I am more than certain I would never hear the end of it from the board if they ever find out, but well played."

"I try." With his lack of a faceplate, Soundwave came up with a similar grin of his own: a tint of pleasure mixed into his actual voice.

"Anyway, you may already notice this, but not every newcomers ready to sign a contract are admitted to a quarter of this size. The actual reason why you're here – and no it's not favouritism – is because we need a way to track the Decepticons, especially after they've gone absolute radio silent. Who's better to deal with that than their old communication officer?"

"Figured."

"I know you would. That alone makes you and your minions even more useful than half the leadership board up there, and I believe it would be unfair if you didn't receive the same treatment, or at least the treatment that a fellow Chief Officer would receive, for your possible contributions to the cause."

Silence reigned for a while, until it finally kicked in.

"You mean… this is your suite?"

"I really don't need it; my office is sufficient enough for living purpose, and I wouldn't trust the flimsy lockpads to keep mecha out while I'm recharging. Besides, I owe you that much."

Sensing total sincerity behind his words, Soundwave needed not ask again. "The gesture is appreciated."

"Good. Back to business; tracking the Decepticons would be part of your responsibility, though not all, and definitely not the foremost. There would be duties for your little masterspy and smaller companions, so are you in accordance with dispatching them to run errands and deliver messages? I assure you there would be no danger whatsoever on these missions, and you can refuse at anytime if the task cause you or your team any discomfort."

"Affirmative."

"Now, your job. Of course, I do not want to take advantage of your… power, in any way, and you very much deserve the right not to cooperate if any of this offend or harm you, but I need to validate our ranks and make sure there are no nasty surprises." The way he said it cast an aura of trust palpable to even those without his ability, bringing forth a sensation of liability.

"I expected as much. I will, but sometimes my presence can be intrusive, if not outright manipulative."

"And such is inevitable, so I'll take it. Other than that, your job is pretty much done. I'll establish a direct radio link between us. Whenever anyone question, tell them you are my direct subordinate and answer to me only. But I'd suggest stear clear of any high-ranking Officers and minimize socialization with the force as strictly as possible."

"Suggestion: stay inside this room until further notice?" He could easily read between the lines.

"That would be highly desirable. Now then, what else would you like to know?"

"The outcome." He didn't need to spell out the battle; they both understood.

"Well, you heard right. With their numbers crushed and their morale deadened, the entire Autobot faction disbanded prematurely the moment the battle ended, and it took loads of effort just to reassure them that the Decepticons would least likely be attacking Iacon again anytime soon, let alone keeping them inside the city's perimeter. Even our force was greatly affected by the war; as I made the liberty to distribute our reserves and share it with the citizens, this place pretty much broke into an all-out riot asking for my helm on a pike led by the council themselves, and had it not been for eon-old experience of dealing with publicity crisis I wouldn't even manage to retain my pulsing spark, but as a direct consequence I was forced to keep my involvement with the great battle a secret. But whatever damage we Enforcers received was still a far cry from Iacon itself; nearly half of its population has been decimated, and almost not a single one left uninjured. We gathered them and provide shelter and medical care to the best of our abilities, though as you can see these are very limited. Rescue missions are still underway, as well as temporary rebulding of emergency facilities. Our teams are still scouring the remnants of the debris in hope of finding more survivors, though the possibility of such only dwindle as time stretched on. With how bleak the situation currently is, we would need all the help we can get."

"My minions would be happy to provide the service."

"Good. Primus know how desperate we are to get those." He let out a vent of relief, shutting his cerulean optics and allowing his helm to drop lifelessly, like an exhausted mech finally getting the rest he deserved for decacycles straight. Thinking of the mental image, he realized that probably wasn't too far off from the truth, either.

"So… how about this council that you speak so foul of? And the remains of the old High Council? Are they related?"

"Funny you should ask… The council I refer to is supposedly the main board of leadership for the force. Eventhough they are different by origins, their behaviour and desires are as like as diesel peas in an oil pod. They both demand everything for themselves while asserting dominance and absolute control over all others, but strive their best to push the actual responsibility and duty over to their prefered scapegoat."

"If I may hazard an assumption, that scapegoat would be you?"

"Precisely. They are the ones who put me in my place with the hope of turning me into one of their puppets, ready to be disposed of whenever my usefulness exceeds my own value. Of course, they were in for quite a surprise when they realized I wasn't just an ordinary power-lust mindless egotistic; my results from the academy pretty much won me the credentials needed to build up my own horde of proponents, and within just the first megacycle of making me Chief they realized their mistake. They've attempted to take me down endless times before, but I always outsmarted them by a hundred light years ahead." He even sound smug if just a little bit, bringing a grin to Soundwave's speech pattern.

"I can imagine."

"Of course, they soon learnt their position, though. Instead of trying to demote me, they now actively create as much trouble and mayhem as possible before framing it all on me with the aim of causing internal conflict between the ranks, which I must say is a pretty smart move. Now the tension is higher than ever, and without my timely retaliation I probably would succumb to their power play."

"What did you do?"

"Funny as it seems, I aggravate them even more." Now Soundwave was thoroughly confused.

"What else do you think? By liberalizing the Senate's reserves, of course! Despite the Councilmecha's – or at least, what remained of them – valiant effort at salvaging whatever resources for themselves, diplomatic words and meticulously crafted threats, let's just put it simply, doesn't have much effect on a horde of hungry, savage Iaconians. Add the bunch of refugees flocking together from other destroyed city states into the mix, and they pretty much outnumbered by hundredth to one to the combination of the entire Enforcers' ranks plus the Royal Guards themselves. Not to mention most of them already turned coats after the outcome of the battle – which I'm not judging anyhow – and fueled by the lost of their own comrades while watching first-handedly how the Council and Senate doesn't even bother to be concerned, it was just a matter of time before the miserable struggle died down entirely and the reserves were lost into our servos."

"And, if I may assume, you stood up and led them?"

"You're correct. Following shortly after was the total overhaul of the old governmental structure – already in broken shambles and miserable shape after the battle, took less than a small nudge to collapse entirely. The void of leadership called for an instant replacement, and although the council tried their very best to reign over the crowd, they didn't – couldn't – win the mecha's trust over again, not after all the damage they've done."

"So… let me guess, they've got no other choice than to hand the position over to you?"

"I wish it was that simple." Prowl powered his cerulean optics back on and slouched even lower on the recliner, his backstrut almost folding over itself. "If they couldn't grab the platium bolt, then they wouldn't let anyone else have the chance to. Given that the mecha's trust was already in my servos, the path to total dominance would still require the actual transition of power, like any other major transitions in history had gone down. Yet, rather than putting up a fight, they went and renounced beforehand, which could only mean-

"They have one final trick up their sleeves." Soundwave concluded, shivers running along his spines reminding him that eventhough Cybertronians were no mere organic creatures, they weren't immune to the sparkless, cruel schemes their own kind was capable of.

"Exactly. Even without your ability, I could tell they would try and blame me for all the casualties and collateral damage, with the reasoning that I was the one to coordinate the battle and led us to our own failure, a fact that I was forced to enclose while facing off multiple hostile forces from within our ranks. And the worst part, is knowing when it will be going down, but not having a single way to prevent it, because it's the truth." Prowl then unsubspaced a datapad hand-out and extended it high in the air for him to read its content.

Upon inspecting the first letters printed on the digital screen, his every instinct came alive with such unadulterated intensity only to hint at him that no good could possibly come out of it.

||Coronation countdown: 1 megacycle left||

||Exercise your civil rights and be a part of the change by attending this historical moment as the leadership of our planet is transcended to the next generations of thriving Cybertronians, representative by the one and only hero||

||Prowl, our last faith and hope||