A/N: Not much to say other than the second scene takes full advantage of my T-rating =D
Special thanks to antepathy and Optimus Bob for the beta read. ::hugs::
KAON - GLADIATORIAL ARENA - LOWER LEVEL
Waspinator makes his way past the training rooms, peering curiously into each one as he passes by. He knows exactly who he's looking for and his quest is completed once he reaches the end of the hall. Seated on the bench just outside the Champion's room is a not-so-familiar face, but one he knows for certain he attended the Autobot academy with when they both used to wear the red insignia.
Shockwave heard the predacon approach, but he didn't expect to be vengefully pinned against the wall so quickly.
SHOCKWAVE
(voice strained by the claws around his neck)
What on Cybertron do you think you're doing!?
WASPINATOR
(growling directly in the intel bot's face)
Two-face bot destroy Wazp's life! Now Wazzpinator get payback!
Shockwave drops his shoulders and rolls his optic in annoyance.
SHOCKWAVE
Now is not the appropriate time to rehash old grudges.
WASPINATOR
(fuming even more)
Geekbot wrong! Wazzpinator think it perfect time for confrontation!
Waspinator buzz-roars as he throws Shockwave to the other side of the hall. The intel bot grunts as his back slams into the Champion Room's door. The predacon advances on him, rearing an arm back to lay a driving punch into the single optic, but the door rips open, causing Shockwave to fall back on his aft. The flying green fist is caught by an impressive black hand which twists it and forces the attacker, after a series of pathetic yelps and buzzes, to the floor. Shockwave looks up with awe to the formidable mech stepping over him, and looking back down on him with question.
Megatron emerges into the hallway, dragging the groveling techo-organic behind him. His leg is still damaged but he's using an old rusty sword as a crutch.
MEGATRON
Shockwave!
The intel bot pops up from his humiliated sprawl and promptly appears next to his leader's side, his optic glowing fiercely with optimism. They make their way down the corridor, Megatron pulling the predacon behind him like a rag doll.
MEGATRON
(calm and confident)
I do not know or care to know what your quarrel is about, but I request you continue it above in the designated fighting grounds.
SHOCKWAVE
(confused)
I-- I don't understand, my liege…won't that attract unnecessary attention from--
MEGATRON
(interrupting)
Precisely.
The three emerge onto the main level, near the concession stand, immediately catching the attention of Lugnut and Blitzwing.
LUGNUT
Master!
Lugnut rushes to his limping leader's side, beholding him reverently. Blitzwing is quick to follow his comrade, but hesitant to speak. The group travels to the nearest arched doorway leading into the empty stadium seating. Megatron stops in the doorway, causing his followers to abruptly stop behind him. His internal temperature rises as he catches sight of his swords and the crushed converter, but he quickly stifles his anger to focus on the moment at hand.
MEGATRON
(quietly with scheming)
My loyal soldiers…I need you to create a diversion.
LUGNUT
Anything my Lord! What kind of diversion would you like?
Megatron looks over his shoulder at Lugnut, his optics conveying what could almost be an appreciation for his doting subservient.
MEGATRON
A big one (he points to the fighting grounds)…down there…distracting enough that I may depart these grounds, unnoticed.
WASPINATOR
(stupidly daring to speak up)
What kind of leader leave his botzz behind while he ezscapezs!?
Megatron forms a tiny smile as he hears Blitzwing's face switch to Hothead and feels the heat radiating off of Lugnut. He lifts the doubting bug within view of his scheming optics then sends him hurling through the air and over the rows of seats.
MEGATRON
Go get him.
Lugnut and Blitzwing immediately heed their master's call and charge toward Waspinator. The predacon has the sense to fly with the throw to prevent an unpleasant slam into the ground.
LUGNUT
(with a fierce roar)
How dare you doubt our leader!?
HOTHEAD BLITZWING
Get down here and fight like a Decepticon, insect!
Megatron allows himself a shred of enjoyment as he watches the spectacle.
SHOCKWAVE
(utterly perplexed)
I still don't understand, my liege. Why are you encouraging instability in our ranks?
The screens around the fighting grounds suddenly fill with the image of Deliberata and Sevax. Megatron steps back, out of view from the aliens.
DELIBERATA
(with his anger face)
What is the meaning of this tomfoolery!?
Shockwave dawns onto his leader's plan as Megatron limps away, aiming for a side door.
SHOCKWAVE
(ardently following behind)
But Megatron! Where will you go?
Megatron pushes the door open but turns back to face Shockwave. His smile replaced with a stern but humbled confidence.
MEGATRON
To seek help.
He slips through the exit, maintaining a commanding air to his walk despite the limp then transforms and disappears into the Cybertronian sky. Shockwave is left with a flood of processes, a enlightening mix of pride and hope. Despite his lack of knowledge to Megatron's plan, he finds encouragement from his processor's inability to access a single shred of doubt.
ELITE GUARD HEADQUARTERS - CHROMIA'S PRIVATE QUARTERS
The double-agent sits at her desk, looking very displeased and tapping at her comm.
CHROMIA
Fraggit Swindle, why don't you answer your comm?
She reaches over and switches her stereo on, letting its soft hum of sultry music fill the room. She leans back in her chair, venting a sigh.
CHROMIA
I gotta relax…can't accomplish anything if I'm behaving like a slagging sparkling ready to spring a leak.
There's a knock at her door--most likely Sentinel.
CHROMIA
(responding loud but flat)
Yes!
A deep voice, barely audible emerges, simple speaking her name. It sounded way too calm and smooth to be Sentinel.
CHROMIA
(rising from her chair)
Who's there?
PROWL
It's me Chromia…it's Prowl.
She freezes, not sure what to make of this.
CHROMIA
How's that possible? You're on Earth.
He was supposed to be anyways. Why didn't anyone tell her he was here? Who's processor needed fragging for keeping her out of the loop?
PROWL
Are you going to let me in?
CHROMIA
(skeptical)
Depends. You going to attack me again?
PROWL
That's a loaded question.
She quirks a smile and approaches the door, slightly expanding her wings in case of a worst case scenario.
CHROMIA
Okay, I'm intrigued now.
She opens the door and beholds her old flame with quick heat flash to her chassis but his missing insignia immediately diverts her attention. Before she can question it, she finds herself pulled tight against him, dipped down and devoured by a deep, passionate kiss. She goes limp, her spark tingling with the rekindling of her past desire for the scrappy little bot. She moans into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his head. He pulls away from the kiss, standing her upright then walking deeper into her room. He approaches her desk, turning music's volume up to fill the atmosphere with the appropriate mood. Still in a haze, the femme closes the door, locking it then gasps as a set of black and tan arms wrap around her waist and pull her so her back is pressed flush to his chest.
Prowl's hands glide around her waist and hips, his entire body guiding her in a slow rhythm. His face is buried in her neck, kissing and occasionally nipping at sensitive wires. She leans her head back on his shoulder, lightly giggling in ecstasy and running her arms along his.
CHROMIA
(breathless)
You going to…keep me guessing?
PROWL
(purring directly into her audio receptor)
About what?
CHROMIA
(releasing a moan before speaking)
About…what the spark you're doing here…and why your insignia is missing?
He twists her around to face him then pushes them both to her berth. She shrinks down to sit upon it once feeling it press against the back of her legs. Prowl kneels down over her, scooting her back and easing down on top of her.
PROWL
I want you to join me.
He dives back into a consuming kiss, lifting her arms over her head and locking them down with one hand. She can only respond with nonsensical noises of arousal. He pulls from the kiss, just enough to mutter his next thoughts.
PROWL
I work for the Quintessons now, just like you used to.
Her optics brighten.
CHROMIA
What!?
PROWL
(with a sultry smirk)
They are on the verge of controlling Cybertron now, Chromia. Join me and together we can welcome the dawning of a new Cybertron.
The ninja presses more of his weight into her body and lowers his mouth to her neck again.
CHROMIA
Hol-- Hold on there…(she lets a moan escape while he teases her neck). You don't wanna work for the Quints.
PROWL
(whispering in her audio receptor)
Why not? Is there a better option for two bots like us?
CHROMIA
(confusing growing through arousal)
Um…because…they're wretched, back-stabbing lowlifes.
Prowl can only laugh at the irony. Chromia attempts to move her wings but to no avail as they're pinned against the berth.
CHROMIA
(now slightly frustrated)
What do you mean by 'bots like us'? Autobots?
Chromia almost feels sorry for this poor mixed-up Autobot and nearly regrets the job she did on his processor. She wants to question if Swindle got to him too but she can hardly think straight with the ninja's merciless voice flowing directly into her cortex.
PROWL
No…I mean bots that are destined to be unattached, uninhibited…and free.
He cups her cheek in his hand and hints to a kiss, his head tilting and hovering merely a breath from her lips. She sighs longingly, unable to deny her vivid attraction to this unpredictable mech. No bot she's been close to ever made her feel this way. She prides herself on detachment and manipulation in situations like these, but with Prowl it's different. Even in their reckless academy days, the little scrapper had a way of bringing the sincerity out of her.
CHROMIA
If freedom is what you seek, you're better off sticking with the Autobots. (she stares deeply into his optic visor)
Prowl runs fingers along her cheek, looking over her face longingly.
PROWL
I'd rather not. Too many of them have let me down…You're the only Autobot I can trust anymore…the only one with the courage to be truthful with me.
Okay, that comment actually made her feel guilty, but she could work with this. He is clearly still under the influence of her hypnosis so perhaps she can mold him into a tool for her agenda.
CHROMIA
(going out on a limb)
What you desire…sounds an awful lot like the…Decepticon creed.
Prowl lifts his head up and looks over her optics with question.
PROWL
What are you suggesting?
He still has her arms pinned above her head, but his other hand continues the gentle caressing on her face and helmet.
CHROMIA
Well…I originally had this great plan for a…lifestyle change, if you will. That is before the Quints came back and fragged it all up.
PROWL
They're not fragging anything up, Chromia. They have great plans for Cybertron.
CHROMIA
(hopeless chuckling under her breath)
Oh, your poor sweet thing, what I have done to you?
Prowl pauses his caressing but continues to study her optics. A tiny smirk begins forming on his mouth.
CHROMIA
(after a reluctant pause)
You…you remember the schoolgirl crush I had on Megatron during out academy days?
PROWL
I would call it more an obsession.
CHROMIA
Right, well…(she winces) I never let it go.
Prowl is now completely engrossed, his smirk spreading wider.
CHROMIA
(hesitantly)
I am…(she can't believe she about to say this) somewhat affiliated with him…well, more like sworn to his cause.
Prowl stares deep in her optics, obviously processing the new information, but how he is processing it is a mystery to her. Damn unreadable optic visor.
CHROMIA
(with complete sincerity)
I really think it would be in your best interest…assuming we survive this whole squid invasion…to join me…as a Decepticon.
Prowl doesn't respond with anything but a satisfied smile. She's about to question him but her entire chassis electrifies with the stasis cuffs he slaps on her wrists. She hollers in shock before going limp with partial paralysis. Prowl pulls back, sitting up on his knees and glaring down at her with a quirked brow.
PROWL
Not the confession I expected, but it will suffice.
CHROMIA
(in denial and speaking weakly)
Primus Prowl, you know I'm into the kinky stuff, but you could at least ask…
PROWL
Save your energy. (he pulls her from the berth and tosses her over his shoulder). You'll need it for explaining yourself to the Council.
Prowl carries her out of the room, stopping to pick up his master's helmet which he left just outside the door, then continuing down the corridor.
Chromia can only dangle in bewilderment.
CHROMIA
(with a slight giggle)
Haha, very funny Prowl. You'd better not let anyone see us like this…Sentinel wouldn't be very happy with you.
PROWL
(typically stoic)
I don't imagine he will, but that honestly doesn't concern me at the moment.
They reach the end of the hall which splits off in a "T". Prowl slips his master's helmet on and looks down both corridors, his optic visor shining with confidence. He chooses the path to the left.
CHROMIA
(now fully aware of her plight)
Where are we going? This isn't the way to the Council room.
PROWL
(unaffected)
That was a feeble attempt at deception. Are you sure you're cut out to be a Decepticon?
CHROMIA
(purely insulted)
Go frag yourself! They'll never take your word over mine, and where's your proof!? You don't even have your insignia.
PROWL
(ignoring her threats)
We'll see.
They come upon an open elevator and Prowl steps inside. He drifts his hand up the button panel, letting his instinct decide which one to press. The door closes and the elevator ascends smoothly.
PROWL
What do you know of the Quintesson threat?
CHROMIA
(gritting her teeth)
A considerable amount.
PROWL
(lecturing)
When were planning on sharing this information with the Autobots?
CHROMIA
(with guilty hesitation)
Um…soon?
The elevator reaches their floor and Prowl slides through the door before they can fully open, unbothered that he bumps his captive's aft into the heavy door.
PROWL
How about within the next couple cycles? I expect you to explain in detail to the Council the Quintessons' intentions. I also would like you to tell them of Starscream's role of double-agent aboard the their ship and how the Autobots may use me to communicate with him if need be.
CHROMIA
(she feels really dumb now)
Starscream's not…?
PROWL
Blackarachnia is with him as well. I believe they intend to disarm the WMD.
CHROMIA
(confusion now mixing in her state of angered humiliation)
Since you're obviously such an expert on the subject, why don't you tell them yourself?
PROWL
Because I don't dare stay in that room longer than I need to. I may do something I'll regret.
They enter a large open room with grand (pompous) architecture. At the opposite end are two large, overly embellished doors, which Prowl heads directly toward.
PROWL
(continuing)
Earlier, I told a friend…You-- You know what a friend is right?…Someone you can trust?
CHROMIA
(snapping coldly)
Spare me!…Trust is overrated.
PROWL
(simply shaking his head)
How sad…As I was saying, I told a friend that I carry no grudges accept for one…which is quite literal in our current situation.
CHROMIA
(fed up)
Do you have a point?
PROWL
Of course. (they approach the doors) I bear an even larger grudge than the one I have for you.
Prowl bursts the doors open with a strong, controlled kick then enters the Council chamber proudly. He sickens at the gaudy architecture then tosses the femme down in the middle of the floor. Only the three main Council members are present: Alpha Trion, Perceptor and Sentinel, and they all stare aghast at the disruptive actions.
SENTINEL
(infuriated)
What is the meaning of this!?
PROWL
(suppressing his anger)
Here is your double-agent. She's been working with the Decepticons all along.
SENTINEL
(approaching the ninja, optics ablaze)
How dare you, of all bots, accuse my…personnel of treachery.
PROWL
(standing his ground)
Your personnel has just openly confessed to me her devotion to the Decepticons.
CHROMIA
(pleading from her undignified sprawl on the floor)
He's lying sirs…his processor is still glitching.
SENTINEL
My thoughts exactly! Where is your proof, ninjabot?
CHROMIA
He doesn't have any proof! He's just trying to get back at me for--
She cuts herself off when she sees Prowl pull a small disk from the side of his helmet and toss it to Perceptor.
PROWL
Her confession is recorded on that disk. You will note its time stamp and its unaltered condition. (turns for the door but continues speaking with pride) However…seeing how Processor Over Matter doesn't meet your standards of heroic technique, I don't expect you to approve of my interrogation tactics here.
Prowl exits the room with a fierce slam of the door. Sentinel is left gawking stupidly while Perceptor plays the tape. The rooms fills with the soundtrack of the femme's recent encounter with the ninja, no detail left out. She remains guiltily speechless and Sentinel has to take a seat, pressing his head into his palms. Alpha Trion is introspective while Perceptor shifts uncomfortably and averts his gaze from the femme to prevent unprofessional thoughts from entering his processor. Once the playback finishes, Chromia finally musters the courage to speak up.
CHROMIA
(sheepish grin)
Um, all treachery aside…there's something you bots need to know about The Quintessons.