Script Title: Gone Fishing
Warning to Audience: Seduction, awkward social issues, weird power issues, dubcon?
Show Rating: R
Continuity Stage: IDW
Characters: Nautilator/D.J.D.
Theatre Disclaimer: The theatre doesn't own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.
Acting Motivation (Prompt): In the More Than Meets The Eye comic, there exists a Seacon with the voice of Megatron, and a group of sadistic murderers who idolize all things Megatron. Naturally, they have to cross paths. Prompts written for Candy From Strangers have finally been separated out here.
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Nautilator - "Have you ever had sex in a public place?"
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It's never a good thing when Snap Trap walks onto the bridge, points a finger at you, and grunts. That's Snap Trap for, 'You're in trouble. Come here so I can beat you into a Minibot.'
Like an idiot or a low-ranking soldier, both of which you are, you trudge over for your presumably-deserved beating. There's a clear spot around you as if the entire bridge crew is suddenly repelled by your presence. Your shoulders hunch the closer you get to the captain, because he looks furious. Aww, frag. What did you do this time? You never used to get into trouble like this! Sure, you're not the most competent of the Seacons, but -
No, that's not right. You're consistently voted the Seacon most likely to be more useful as a doorstop. You got taken off the Seacon planet-side roster because of that time you forgot how to swim. But come on, that's not fair! You get distracted by inane things when you're under pressure! There could be Autobots falling from the sky, and you'd stop to be polite if someone asked your name. It's just how your mind works!
Come to think of it, you're actually used to getting in trouble. You're just not used to getting into trouble because of the mechs around you instead of what you do yourself.
Apprehensive already, you come to attention. Then you scurry after Snap Trap as your captain turns to storm off the bridge as angrily as he stormed onto it. "Sir..?"
"You're off the ship roster for the next six months," he snarls over his shoulder, and you cringe. What did you do? "Nobody sees you, nobody knows you, and we're avoiding docking anywhere that isn't an orbital station for at least that long. In return, I expect you to keep your head down and work your aft off like you're scheduled for every single shift."
"But why?" You know better than to interrupt an officer, but you can't help yourself. You're beyond bewildered. It comes out plaintive. "What'd I do? Sir?" You're off the crew, but you're still on the crew? What is this? What's going on?
He doesn't answer until you reach his office. Without giving you the chance to hide on the appropriate side of the desk like a good cowed genericon should, he nabs you by the back of the helm and mashes your face into his console screen. "That's why. This is a Decepticon warship, not a mobile scandal. I do not relish the thought of how many calls I will be fielding about this, nor do I want to even think about just who, precisely, will be trying to contact you personally." His voice is a vile hiss.
It blends in beautifully with the white noise blaring in your audios. "But they - he swore nobody could - I didn't want - " Your systems are in total upset, and you're starting to see flickering lines of static as your vision fritzes from stress.
"Whoever 'he' is, and I don't want to know," Snap Trap thumps your head off the desk just in case you got yourself together enough to say a name he doesn't want to hear, "he lied. My recommendation is that you cease to exist for a while, and I'm backing this recommendation up with a gun, so get lost."
He throws you toward the door, and you run for it while embarrassment roars in your audios. Yeah, disappearing from the ship roster for a while sounds like a great plan! Wonderful plan! You're going to go hide in the engine room until you can deal with the fact that was a public broadcast and you are in it. Hot scrap, you're starring in it. Disappearing from curious gawkers is a marvelous plan!
Besides, if you're officially non-existent, then you can't send a screaming rant to the Peaceful Tyranny later, no matter how much you want to. That lengthens your life expectancy by a considerable amount.
You're never talking to Tesarus again, the lying sack of scrap. Never.
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