Something Wicked

Sentinel Prime was nothing if not canny. He knew how to read people… he saw the look in a man's eyes and predicted his intentions. This ability was a blessing in the tangled, complex world of Cybertronian politics.

The Lord High Protector Megatron was nothing if not secretive. He had the ability to guard his thoughts, to mask his feelings under a carefully constructed and maintained persona. Therefore, he was one of the few men that Prime could not read. But Prime had no reason to doubt his younger counterpart. Megatron was one of the greatest Protectors the world had ever seen, loved by all of his Protectors and admired by the people.

And yet…

In recent days, a nagging suspicion had grown in the back corner of Prime's mind. Something had changed, something wasn't right. In the privacy and silence of his own rooms, he sat pondering, recalling all of the insignificant-seeming, individual incidents—so innocent when taken one by one, but all together spelling out something far more insidious.

"Is something the matter, sir?"

Sentinel jerked out of his thoughts at the inquiry, looking up at a steaming mug, then further up to the one who offered it. Ah, Fastback. Could Prime entrust his suspicions to a Protector? But the members of the Prime's Guard were beholden to the Prime first and foremost, even over Megatron. They were trained to protect and obey Sentinel at any cost. Fastback was a favorite of Sentinel's: good, honest, faithful, always on hand with a hot drink or a good book, a constant presence outside the Prime's bedchamber every night along with his friend Bumper. Yes… he could trust Fastback with anything.

"Have you noticed anything… strange about Lord Megatron lately?" he asked.

Fastback frowned. "Megatron? I wouldn't know, sir… I spend more time with you than with him. Why do you ask?"

Prime took the mug and sipped absently. "He's been doing favors, shaking hands… he's up to something, and I wish I knew what."

"He does have a way of making allies out of the right people," Fastback agreed. "But how is it any different now?"

"It doesn't feel right. Lord Megatron has never shown himself to be untrustworthy… but…" Sentinel sighed and shook his head. "I'm a paranoid old fool."

"Your feelings have rarely led us wrong, sir," his bodyguard answered. "There've been rumors going around among the Protectors… like he's getting ready for something. Something big."

"What more do you know of this?"

Fastback shrugged apologetically. "Only the Elite know much about Megatron, and they don't mingle with the Guard. But you know that whatever happens, sir, the Guard is behind you. We're sworn to protect you, no matter what."

Sentinel smiled. "Thank you, Fastback." He rubbed a hand across his eyes before glancing at the clock. "It's too late to think of these things. I'll retire now."

"Bumper and I are just outside if you need anything, sir." Fastback bowed himself out and Sentinel sighed, frowning into space.

It may be too late to do anything at all.

Despite what he told Fastback, Sentinel Prime remained awake at his desk, staring into his mug, lost in thought as the night deepened. The lights of the city glowed on, but few people were out and about. Axulus was a pale sliver on the horizon; Ruxus shone full and clear overhead, washing the scene in soft red. Prime darkened his lights to enjoy the moonlight and to lead Bumper and Fastback to believe that he was asleep. He mused long into the night.

A commotion just outside broke into his thoughts. Prime knew the sounds of a fight when he heard one—a fight with weapons, not fists or voices—and he knew the proper actions to take. The Prime's quarters were connected to a network of hidden passages throughout the capitol, passages Sentinel had memorized. Before he'd gotten two steps towards the hidden entrance, however, something heavy hit the door with enough force to open it. Sentinel looked to see what is was and his breath caught in his throat as he saw Fastback's eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Before he could move, the attacker was on him. Pain blossomed under his ribs and he gasped, hand clutching weakly at the assassin. An unfamiliar voice hissed jubilantly in his ear.

"All hail Megatron!"

Ruxus's light was reflected in the Lord High Protector's eyes as he looked up at it, gauging the time from the red moon's position in the sky. To an onlooker, had anyone else been there to see, the tension in Megatron's body might have been attributed to a long, difficult day. One ungloved finger tapped impatiently on the railing. His eyes flickered restlessly back and forth, darting from the sky to the city. He waited.

The barest footstep ended his wait. Without turning around, he asked, "Is it done?"

"It's done," Starscream answered, pausing in his approach. Megatron finally faced him, pleased.

"Were there any witnesses?"

"None who lived."

"And the weapon?"

"Suitably disposed of."

Megatron took a moment to look his agent over. He had taken the time to clean himself and put on fresh clothes. Good… it would not do to have one of the Elite spotted with blood on his hands tonight.

Starscream hesitated. "Lord Megatron… why do we wait? Why not strike now, now that the Prime is dead?"

"We aren't ready," Megatron answered. "We aren't as strong as we should be."

"Then why…"

"Sentinel was becoming suspicious, and he was strong. The new Prime will be weak, uncertain. We will grow stronger." Megatron's smile was anything but friendly. "Soon, Starscream. Have patience… we will make our move. Soon."