Arcee clenched her servos as her thoughts wandered around with no clear direction. She gazed out the wide, open windows of Kaon, her mind far off with the flying seekers who soared in the skies. She folded her arms, tapping her finger as she followed the seekers trail outside as they flew off and out of sight.
She could not think, she could not process much at the moment.
She let out a tired sigh before turning away and wandering down the halls, her steps echoing in the silence. She knew these halls like the back of her servo. She was familiar with these halls, she grew up in them. Memories of herself as a youngling running down these very halls without a care in the world crossed her mind. Light giggles filled her audio receptors as she glanced up to see the phantom of a young femme running with a wide smile on her face. She was followed closely by a large, intimidating silver mech who was just learning how to smile, his crimson optics watching her intently.
What she would give to be that sparkling again, to escape into the memories of her sparklinghood. Things were not as complicated when she had been young. She only wished she could have stayed in that stage of sparklinghood.
But then, if she had remained a sparkling, she would not have known what she had just discovered. She would not know what she did now. But even now, at the age of adulthood, she was still learning, still figuring out this new, fragile feeling that was so foreign to her.
What had she just discovered? Was it even important? More importantly, did it change anything? She most certainly didn't feel the same, that was for sure.
She barely registered the fact that she was entering a new room until the doors were sliding open. She blinked before regaining her composure, entering the large, dim laboratory. Her optics adjusted and her gaze was drawn to the lone figure that was hunched over his table. His one, large optic did not blink as he did not even gaze up at her.
"You are early," he commented, setting his tools down with practiced ease. He finally looked up to acknowledge her.
She approached the workstation, servo lightly touching the silver table as she eyed the many tools that were neatly placed. "I had some free time," she answered. She handed the document she had been carrying. "Lord Megatron wants a report on your progress within the hour."
Shockwave nodded, accepting the documents she handed to him. At that moment, her optics caught sight of a flash of orange glass. She titled her helm as she noted how the orange, glass object was not yet finished, but was near completion. It looked delicately framed, forming that of a simple flower.
"I will deliver a full report when I attend Lord Megatron's meeting," Shockwave said, moving back to his work and blocking her view of the glass flower, whether it was intentional or not.
She looked back at him. "Of course," she said. "You always deliver results, Shockwave. That is why we keep you."
"My worth to the Decepticons and Lord Megatron are determined by my results," he answered, turning back to his work.
Arcee frowned, unsure if she should leave yet. His comment did broach some questions, but she had no other reason to stay here. As an afterthought, she turned her back on him and proceeded to step out when she caught sight of Shockwave's latest work.
"I thought you had abandoned the cortical psychic patch," she commented curiously.
"I never abandon great potential," he answered. "I invented the cortical psychic patch, and its knowledge is not lost to everyone."
She frowned, her interest caught. "What use would we have for a machine such as that?" she asked. Though it was not lost on her what kind of technology such a machine could do, and she could understand why the Decepticons were rushing to complete the project. She knew that many of Shockwave's projects had been stolen as his many labs were raided during the war.
"The same use our enemies would have of it," he answered. "There is no way of calculating the amount of knowledge that was stolen from my labs."
She blinked, thinking of the experiments and reports of gruesome and disturbing research the Decepticon scientists had performed during the war. She could only imagine what one could do with the knowledge that Shockwave produced, but that didn't mean she was comfortable with his pursuits. He was an accomplished mech who had managed to switch off his emotions, so she guessed he was incapable of feeling remorse, or any other type of strong feelings for that matter. He used his clawed servos to break down and examine with deadly precision. He thrived for science and to quench his thirst for logic and ambition.
But another glance of the uncomplete, orange glass flower gave her a slight pause in her negative thoughts. But it was only a slight pause. She gave a quick, polite nod to Shockwave before turning and leaving the scientist alone once more to his never-ending work.
She returned to the room that was labeled her office. Sorting through the documents, she sat down with a sigh, optics scanning the numbers and reports. She a determined nod, she dove right into her work.
It was situations like this when she would let the time pass her by, and she would get lost in her work as she sorted through numbers and calculations. She liked forcing her processor to think, and she enjoyed piecing together numbers and sorting through records. But today, she was doing it for another reason entirely, which was keeping unwanted thoughts away from her helm.
She flipped through the last stack of datapads. Nodded firmly to herself as she closed it with a 'snap,' she felt a sense of accomplishment along with a sense of aprehnsion. Now that she was done, she might as well head down for some training; maybe wake her body up again with the intense workout that Ark subjected them both through.
Just as she was about to push back from her desk, she stopped when another datapad caught her attention. She glanced down and noticed that it was not one of the records she was tasked with filling out or looking over. Picking it up, she realized that it was a datapad on legend and lore and based on predacons.
She huffed, remembering the moment she had grabbed it off the shelf, the painting and conversation with that femme in the Iacon museum all too fresh in her mind. She did not know what had possessed her to grab the datapad in the moment, but she didn't feel interested in reading about predacons now. She found that most of what she had read was based off of nothing but legends and myth. It was hardly anything to go by if she was looking for solid research, and not a fantasy tale.
She set the datapad back down with an uninterested sigh, before stopping and glancing at her desk once more. She really did not want another datapad cluttering her neat desk, so she might as well put it in her room, or see if Ark wanted some leisure time to read.
She snorted at the thought. Ark pleasure reading? The Pits of Kaon would be paved with gold before that ever happened.
She finally stood up with the datapad in her servo, leaving her office for the day. The doors closed behind her, leaving her once more alone in the hallways. Ark did not follow her around when she was in the Decepticon capital, except when she went out on the streets. But from here, Arcee was free to roam on her own.
Or as alone as she could get. She was well aware that Soundwave may or may not be watching her. She was also aware that as the Decepticon Heir, she was closely monitored. It didn't bother her as much that it was Soundwave, or Barricade that watched her. Barricade had taught her how to fight and had thus earned her respect and admiration. Soundwave had been the one to introduce her to the cruelties of the world, even if he had not known it.
She still remembered the scarring of his face, and how he had tried to hide it from her when she had stumbled into his chambers as a sparkling. In that instant, she had felt sorrow that he was in such pain, and she wanted to make it better for him. It had not occurred to her innocent, sparkling mind that someone had purposefully done that to him, someone had mauled him and stolen his face. It was not until she was older did she realize that he had made it an effort to hide his scars from her. She had seen scars before, but never as defected as his.
It was the fact that he had tried to hide it from her that had opened her optics to the good and the bad of Cybertron. She understood the unspeakable acts Megatron, Soundwave, and Shockwave committed. She understood that they had destroyed lives and almost destroyed a world in their conquest. But she also understood that it took two sides to fight a war. The Autobots committed unspeakable acts as well, and this Selection was trying to mend all of that.
Her steps faltered for just a moment. Could her newly founded feelings endanger all of that? Could she start a war if she allowed her feelings to grow? The very thought was terrifying and brought shame down on her. What of Bumblebee? Was he aware of the dangers? True, it might not hold as much consequence for him. But for her, one not so simple change could destroy everything.
She glanced down at the datapad in her servo before making an unconscious decision to see Megatron. A quick glance at the time showed that his meeting should be over by now, as it had only been scheduled to last for three hours. Yet, one could never tell with Megatron these days. He had been leaving her out of a lot of intel, which irritated her to no end. She liked to be informed of events, especially if she was to help govern Cybertron.
Her steps were measured and paced as she made her way to the meeting room, wondering if she was going to catch any bit of news that she was not supposed to hear. But as the doors slid open, she was disappointed to find Megatron alone.
Well, maybe she wasn't disappointed. She felt a mixture of relief and curiosity at that point: Relief that he was alone, curiosity as to what she had missed. She stepped into the room, aware that Megatron was noted of her presence by the slight movement of his helm.
"Acree," he said, looking up. "Is there something I can do for you?"
She strode forward to him, placing the datapad down. "Something I picked up," she said simply.
She did not think Megatron's sudden reaction was what she would get. His calm optics widened as he stared at the datapad as if it were a bomb about to go off. Finally, he looked at her, his optics now calculating and expression void of emotion. For a moment, she felt as if she was staring at the Decepticon Warlord. "Who told you?" he finally asked, voice low.
She blinked, resisting the urge to step back as confusion filled her. "I picked it up," she repeated. "I was just curious when I saw a picture at the Iacon museum."
He stared at her. "Just a picture?" he asked.
More confusion filled her, and she was failing at attempting to look neutral. "Yes," she said. "It was a portrait at the Iacon museum. A femme was speaking about it to me. She also spoke about genetically changing the CNA of predacons and Cybertronians. My curiosity was aroused at the time."
As she had been speaking, some of the tension had left Megatron's shoulders, but as she continued, the stiffness and alertness was back. "Predacon CNA?" he asked. He glanced back down at the datapad, as if uninterested. "That femme was clearly delusional to even fantasize such ideas."
"Clearly," Arcee repeated, watching how his fingers were tapping an agitated rhythm on the table. Her optics narrowed as her processor was flooded with thoughts and suspicions.
"So you gave me something for pleasure reading?" Megatron asked suddenly. "Because of some femme making comments about predacons?"
Arcee blinked, pulled back to the present. "Well, yes, I don't need a datapad on myth and lore that does not apply to today."
"You would be surprised at how much myth and legend apply to history," Megatron said thoughtfully, fingering the datapad. "Decepticons are much like predacons. We fight fiercely, we deceive and we are con-artists." He smirked. "Some might say we have no honor. I prefer to think that our actions come from the need to survive." He placed the datapad away. "We also don't like to share what is ours." At that, his expression turned almost predatory, his servos clenched possessively. "We have an ambition, and we do not like to lose what is rightfully ours. Let me just say, we guard our treasure with a fierce jealousy like a predacon would."
He glanced at her. "I see that fierce jealousy in you as well."
She huffed, rolling her optics. "I hardly ever get jealous."
"No," he said. "But you do get possessive. You see what you think is yours, and you fight to obtain it." He rose from his seat, towering over her. "It is the Decepticon nature inside of you, and I like to think that it is my influence that has helped you achieve that."
She matched his grin as she stared up at him. "You have influenced me more then you know."
He caressed her cheek in an unnatural display of affection, and she saw that possessive glint in his optics. "It will be so hard to let you go."
"And to an Autobot no less," she commented.
He dropped his servo. "Yes, to think I am loosing you to an Autobot."
"You are not loosing me," she promised. "You are gaining an ally."
He did not look satisfied as he bent down to retrieve the datapad. He stared at it for an intense moment before flipping it with a careless shrug. "I might be interested in something like this," he said. "Maybe I'll have Soundwave look at it as well."
She smirked. "Glad I could give you something fun to do," she said as he left. The smirk, however, faded from her face as she pondered what had just taken place. Megatron's reaction to the datapad was confusing, if anything else. She had felt that moment of alarm, worried at what he would do next. All of that over predacons?
Well, whatever it was, he was not going to tell her if she just outright asked him. What would she even ask him anyway? About the predacons and why he looked so disturbed about them?
He had never looked disturbed in all the times he had raised her. Conflicted, maybe, but never disturbed. Come to think of it, she could compare Megatron to a mighty, fearless predacon if she had to.
Possessive, fierce, and a deceiver. Those were the main attributes that she could identify Megatron with. She could also identify herself with the first two attributes as well.
She saw what she liked, and she fought for it. She did not like to share what was hers, and she guarded it fiercely.
Yet, here she was, conflicted with what she wanted, and not knowing what to do. Was she so willing to step aside and not do anything? Was she so ready to lose the one mech who she was actually developing feelings for? Was she going to let another femme take advantage of what she had left unguarded?
She felt a growl form in her throat at the thought of another femme waltzing right up to Bumblebee with with ease. Her servos curled into fists as she dwelled on such a notation. No, she was not going to let such a thing happen. Selection could go to the Pits at this moment.
"Alright," she said, looking upwards in the empty room. "Alright! If something comes out of it, I will act." She clenched her fists. "If something comes out of it, I will not lose." She felt her spark thrum at the thought of taking action. No more was she going to stand by and let fate decide her life. If she was going to have a mate, she was going to have a say in who her mate was going to be.
"I want to know how something like this got out," Megatron demanded in the dark room, throwing the datapad down on the metal table. The legend and lore of the predacon datapad stared at the ceiling. He still could not understand how Arcee had come across such info. It was too detailed about the predacon CNA for his comfort.
The four mechs in the room remained silent for a moment, unable to speak as they gathered their thoughts. "The knowledge stolen from my labs during the war may have in fact already been put to use already," Shockwave concluded.
"Project Predacon," Megatron spat. "Is in the servos of the Autobots?"
"Rebels?" Soundwave asked instead, proposing a different option.
"Rebels or Autobots," Starscream said. "It does not matter. Those plans are in the servos of someone not in our faction." He looked at Megatron. "A femme at the Iacon museum brought this up?"
"Most likely a defected Autobot," Barricade interjected. "Prime is too soft to conduct such experiments."
"To the public eye," Megatron said. "But who is to say that Optimus is aware of such experiments?" He looked at Soundwave. "I want all surveillance pulled up at that museum. Identify that femme, and locate her immediately. Find out if she has any connections with Dirge and the rebels." He glanced at Barricade. "Have the scouts found nothing yet?"
"Dirge has vanished off the face of Cybertron," Barricade answered. "There is no record of him leaving the planet. Most likely, he is dead, or has friends in high places we cannot reach."
"There is no such thing as unreachable high places," Megatron growled. "Not for me, and not in my city." He frowned. "It may be time for us to take a closer look at the spies we had employed during the war. Our double agents have always remained shaky with both Autobots and Decepticons."
"I am guessing alerting the Autobots to our actions is out of the question," Starscream huffed.
Megatron smirked. "You guessed correctly. I am aware Optimus Prime wants us to maintain an honest relationship to keep the peace. But what those Autobots don't realize is that one must compromise to maintain peace. No need to worry Optimus about the Decepticons business."