Chapter 15: A Plan For You, Me and Us
A/N: Yay, Chinese New Year's coming up too! (More holidays for me!) :DDD
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Down the endless maze stood a predator and his attack beast, approaching their desired target. He had spent many vorns extinguishing the souls and sparks of countless unfortunates, apathetic to whom or even what they were, before he started freelancing himself in this line of business. He, like his companion, were sparked into killers. Those who had the great misfortune of glancing upon him also saw the world for the last time to meet their creators. There were no records of his appearance or his past misdeeds, only the unimaginative descriptions listless passerby's offered as notice; that the cold airs outside the heat of Kaon provided more warmth than his merciless being. He felt nothing, and Transformers…
…Transformers were his favourite prey. This one's death would come soon, just like the young, the old, the healthy, wealthy or bed-ridden would know, when his murderous presence weighed over their throats. If the dead could reminiscence over the sparkless being and his pet, it would be the quick kills he ran across their life lines, severing them from suffering, the painful agony of dying. He held no prejudice or favour with his victims. Some were famous figures and others were made so, through their untimely deaths by his hands. Either way, they ran out of luck. They called him death's minister, and for a little irony, they gave him a meaning to his life.
His next victim sits, unsuspecting of him and his creature, waiting in eternal patience for his downfall. The animal does not offer purr nor growl, or even a meaningful brush against his master, keeping a professional silence to their very movements. A precarious data pad hangs over the mech's desk, and on it's cue, he would shorten the Transformer's life to a millisecond, just like he did the others. A sharp click of the fallen data pad contrasts the soft swish of the metal doors, and the killer slides into the vicinity of his prey, like an unforeseen shadow. This Transformer was larger than average, but physical size did not stop-
"Hello, Coldshock."
…No one was supposed to know his name! He was 'The Killer' with a capital 'T'! Not Coldshock, who harboured this super-coolest-ever-in-the-entire-galaxy-secret-identity! The Autobot leader must die for his audacity! His impudence! His kill joy attitude for announcing his unheard entrance!
"AAAAAW!!!" Coldshock stamped his small foot with little effect to the larger mech, before remembering back to his alter ego. "Foolish Autobot! You must die for your death-…uh?"
The youngling thought he was holding a blunt dagger. How did it get into Optimus Prime's clubby hands all of a sudden?
"Why is this toy so sharp?" the creation's optics widened to dinner plates when the large Autobot, in guiltless scrutiny of the toy, easily folded the sharp tip of the blade with the edge of his square thumb. The Antillian bumble-puppy wagging innocently by Coldshock's side finally broke its professional silence, with a cocked head and a questioning whine.
"……AAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!!!!!!!!" Optimus Prime had a good chuckle at the younger Transformer, who finally stamped the other foot harder than the first, and marched to the red truck's table. After retrieving his toy dagger, the unhappy sparkling planted his minute figure onto Optimus Prime's lap, and wiled the disappointment away by finger poking Optimus Prime's windshield wipers across the Autobot's chest.
"You knew I was coming an' you didn't say anything!!!" the youngster slapped his thighs with his fists, watching the older mech study the data pads on his table.
"I said hello," Optimus Prime squinted his optics at the child, now pulling his face to the floor. "I thought the twins were watching you."
"We were playing hide and seek," admitted Coldshock, who recognised the unconvinced look adults pulled, currently plastered on Optimus Prime's face.
"…Where are they?"
"Looking for me." The Autobot leader grew a slight furrow now. "…In L.A."
"They would be very worried, Coldshock," the large Autobot drummed the table with his finished stack of data pads.
"Nu-uh. Not Buttstreaker-" the low grumble from Optimus Prime's vocal processors was not lost on the youngster. "...We painted him pink."
How a face-plated Transformer could pull so many expressions in five minutes was lost on the creation. "That's why he's looking for us."
"In L.A," Optimus Prime reconfirmed.
"Yyyyyyyeap."
"…I see."
Today was going to be a very, very long day.
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Someplace away from the Nemesis stood two identical Cassetticons, idly grazing in their own boredom as time crawled through their scout duties. Perched between a cliff face and the picturesque scenery of moist fauna, the cassettes ran through their thought processors, recalling what they heard and did this morning so the duo can bounce their opinions against each other.
"Have ya' heard?" The purple cassette piped up first, earning a weighty sigh from his darker comrade.
"…Nope."
"Megatron's just called a truce," Rumble answered. "Swindle says our leader's givin' us a 'holiday', but in shifts so the Autoboobs won't try somethin' funny (or somethin' like that-)"
"What-wait…no way. No WAY!!!" Frenzy swung his fist down in frustration. "I was waitin' ta' scrap that stupid Cliffjumper fer' sucka' punchin' me! Fraggit fraggit Primus-FRAGGIT!!!"
The Cassetticons simultaneously dropped their rumps on the rocky outpost and huffed in unison. Frenzy took a minute to absorb the information before enquiring further. "…In shifts?Whazzat supposed ta' mean?"
"It means, gas fer' brains-" a reassuring shoulder punch put Rumble into an equal mood with his partner, "The Mega-squirts pro'ly gonna take…what, a week to recover? So one halfa' the army's gonna be on their usual duties, and then vice versa, whatever that means-what? Stop pokin' me ya' stupid slagger!"
"Shaddup an' look! There goes Megatron and the femme that rocks his big ol' boots!" Pulling Rumble to share the view, Frenzy pointed at the two recognisable specks crossing the sky. "Wonder what're they gonna do. Or more like, what he's gonna do to her, heh heh heh!"
The purple Cassetticon cringed at his red comrade's connotations. "Eh, whatever, 'con. It's like spying on our creators giving the surges ta' each other…or more like you givin' Pinky a good seein' ta!"
"Yeah?! At least I can SCORE!" the red Decepticon leapt from his squat at the sniggering Rumble. "…'Really miss Lightburst, y'know. 'Con, if I find out who killed my femme con, I'm gonna slag him all the way ta' the Inferno-!"
"Awwwwwww, does someone miss his widdle sweetheart-OW! SLAGGIT FRENZY I'M GONNA DELETE YOU OFF THE FACE A' THIS EARTH!"
"BRING IT, PUNK!"
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"Oh, how…romantic," Starscream commented on the distant noise of squabbling Cassetticons, turning her red optics to the burning sky. "And it's sunset, too. Remember the time we levelled that pathetic village? That was fun."
Starscream always let her thoughts wonder aimlessly. I wonder whether she purposely does this to mislead me. "You'll have to settle with your imagination, femme con. That night was a luxury, and we need to conserve fuel."
"Aaw, you're no fun."
I'm not looking for fun right now, but does she care? Starscream slowly waltzes around the outpost with those beautiful legs of hers. She knows she's good to look at, the little tease. At least she isn't worried for my son anymore, but she has good reason to. He's grown quite fond of human culture. Hah. It's only a week. The Autobot's can't teach him everything about their pacifist ways, and when he comes back, Starscream will make him sing the Decepticon tune once again.
I don't need a truce, but I can't afford giving the femme con any more excuses. She…amuses me, and has given me two creations of our own making, but I don't owe her anything, and I never will. In fact, I don't owe anyone anything at all! Not everyone fully understands a conqueror's right, but that's one of the reasons for having a fusion cannon. The she-con and I find good footing to observe what is soon to become mine. It's time to discuss certain personal matters between us, and she knows of my intentions as of now.
"Megatron, what are we doing here?" It's so easy for her to play the fool. "Is there something you want to tell me? If not, I'm going back to call my daughter. I'm worried for her. And Coldshock."
For Primus' sake, can you stop worrying about our creations for a nanosecond? The older one is a capable warrior, and Coldshock's being guarded by the Autobots. Teratron has already told us of her progress. Positive, I might add, but is she running in circles? She is not subjective in thought, but experience will bring her closer to her intended goal. Back to Starscream, the yapping femme con that is to become mine to own, whether she likes it or not.
"…Worried still? You, of all Decepticons should know our enemy's altruistic morals."
"…Well…I was thinking about us," she mutters plainly to me, spreading her listless gaze across the oceanic view. "About you. Do you know why I did not give answer to your proposals, my lord?"
"Maybe it's your cerebral circuits lapsing into incurable stupidity, female," That made her grunt from her olfactory sensors. Charming. "But if that's not the case, then I would presume you will enlighten me about your doubts at this point."
"I'm not the only one who would see themselves standing next to you as their queen," she breathed a dream created by many females, wishing to be in my proximity. I've heard it all, but she reminds me again. "It would look grand, wouldn't it? Violet waves of cloth, billowing from the windows of an immensely grand architecture. A gaggle of famous celebrities as our audience, a procession of pristine soldiers to guard our like-minded kind. And there you would be, in the centre of the gathered commotion, at an untouchable distance to the rest of the assembly, like a lion above his pride. You would wear your regal attire, your bullet shaped helmet decorated with that infamous three-pronged crown, polished to reflect the bride awaiting your acceptance, as she makes strong, eager, delicately modest steps towards our lord. 'All hail Megatron!', they would say, and-"
Harrumph. Is there a point to all this? I can't take all this lengthy crooning from a voice that grates lovingly against my audio receptors.
"Wow, the things you females conjure," I moan at her. "No wonder you're valued in our society, with all that free time spent on developing your prehensile wits to a razor sharp edge. I can't imagine the honeymoon-!"
"I'm not finished (you sexist pig)…" Is there an inevitable conclusion to her prolonged musing? Better concentrate on the seeker, so the melodramatic rambling can come to an end. "Yes, go on Starscream, continue."
"That's what the majority of females would think, won't they? I used to have that thought a long time ago, in my little fancies," she spoke through gritted teeth at such trivial notions, allowing a snide grimace to pull her polished face into an malicious scowl. Starscream looks almost embarrassed to have shared this twilight notion of being tied to me, and the concept itself. After fighting through generations of warring limbs and energon-stained processors, having procreated two flawless offspring of good breed, her perception of our relationship has changed quite drastically; but she spoon-feeds me her enlightened views. I guess Starscream doesn't want me to gloat over another victory over her, and a seemingly important one in her mind.
"…Not like you're going to, but if you have another spark-touching proposal to make, I'd consent to your advances," Starscream let slip a snigger. "We may even belong to each other now, would we? Mr. and Mrs. Megatron?"
The majority of seekers tend to be flighty, no pun intended. Does it scare Starscream to be shackled in matrimonial bliss, especially to me? Time has allowed her to grow and mature, and if she hasn't learned anything, I don't care. At this point, she doesn't have much of a choice anymore.Willowy legs stretched the seeker to her full height, making it convenient for me to possess her sinuous frame. I don't need to be told what to do.
"Propose again? Hah, what nonsense! All I need is to hear you beep in agreement, and you'll soon find your silly self at the altar. 'Belong' to each other?" The light from my optics burns the femme con's countenance, as we drown in each other's gaze. "You're mine, now. Unless, you foresee any 'tragic' events that will happen to me in the near future?"
Let me know how far your treachery extends, female, and I will make sure that length is cut. Rumours and idle gossip have been floating around the base on this subject for quite some time. It is of little concern to me, because the person in subject is Starscream herself. There is some truth that Starscream's scheming has been minimised; the female can't even wring her hands deviously without me hearing her fingers click in anticipation. The seeker's last attempt was so miniscule, the only thing she earned was my mirth, and her disloyal actions were more of a personal attack than a fatal jeopardy to my plans.
Her optics dims at the question after an involuntary flicker, like she always does when the troops walk pass her, thinking of us as a couple than a single unit. They make their thoughts clear, but she cannot persecute them for having their optics open.
"Hmm, let me check my calendar…"
It bothers her greatly, and she channels her anger to something else more commonly identifiable: fear.
She's afraid.
"Nope. Want me to make an appointment?" The joke runs weakly across her lips, which I take for the better. I don't think I can get enough of the dread she feels, shaking in my grasp and writhing underneath my body like a nervous protoform. She's almost…pitiful.
"No need. So." Back to my original point. "Should we wed during or after the truce?"
Starscream looks surprised. Don't be. "I-…ah…what?"
"That's what the truce is for, female. Our creations are safe, we have a surplus of energon, and all arrangements can be made. I don't want to delay this matter any longer between us." What else is there? "You will marry me."
If she starts crying now, I am going to hit her off this precipice. Thankfully, the years of warfare have hardened her tears. "Is it going to be grand?"
NO. She agrees with me anyway. "I…I want it to be a…a private ceremony…"
Fantastic. "Good. The pomposity can wait until we address the Decepticons as king and queen."
"Great."Her words betray her actions because she turns her wings to smile at me, looking elsewhere. If I don't clear whatever anxieties she has right now, I might have a runaway bride on my hands, and that…would be quite humiliating on my part. "What's wrong now? Are you going to weep in ecstasy-"
"No! (Shut up)." I do so, on my own accord. "I've just realised that-…I've noticed-…that…we're quite alone, in this universe."
You are quite so, my dear. For your ambitions, you've abandoned everyone but yourself. It's just plain foolishness on your part. She nods her head to the side to check my reaction, and I see the unmistakable frown she's carried throughout our time spent together, as a soldier and a lover. Is that the part of her that I feel pity for? I've seen it sometimes, yet I have not fully registered her thoughts behind that expression. She's not forgotten that quiet, lost frown that burdens her, and it does not elevate her mood for the better. If I can recall, it was at etched on her smooth face when we thought we had lost Teratron to the powers beyond life. After the screeching ululations in bereavement alone in her own room, I found my red jet by a quiet side of the Earth, wearing that countenance as her pallor.
At that time I recalled the other moments of her hopelessness, her fear, her misunderstandings of the dealings with life. When in public, people insult her empty stare, but she quickly shuns their mockery. In private, her fixation drifts to the unplanned choreography of her thoughts, of the uncertainty of the future, the unknown, and the undeniable fate that plays its part more than fortune cares to make a cameo.
What should she be afraid of? This relationship is not a disadvantage to her. Giving up things that make you happy to get others that make you happier is worth it. As my queen, she would have the extra responsibilities that none has shared with me, but in the end, her authority is at its greatest level. She doesn't need a trine when she can have the whole air force.
I almost forget where we are, until her fingers clip themselves on my shoulders, and she gently tucks her head against my neck, like a swan posing for a soundless nightfall. Through this, she becomes the exemplary model of our Decepticon females. Shy and reserved for their unquestioned devotion to their fathers, brothers, husbands and creations. The lack of exposure to direct combat makes them look weak, but reality speaks the truth when it is known, that without our female counterparts, the soldiers will have nothing to go home to. There would be no comfortable abodes, but unkempt rooms productively building rust. For the singles, company away from the other males will be extremely lacking or frustrating, and many who have retired will find no extra income, no standard guides to life outside war, and no social etiquette. Immorality of all colours will breed, and discipline will not exist in creations that were not mass produced..
Sometimes, Starscream forgets that brute strength alone will not rule all. Her weaknesses is not a fault, but a misinterpretation. The war has disillusioned us that those who don't participate in the frontlines are useless. It's not unpatriotic if they don't pick up a laser rifle, as long as they play their part in the advancement of Decepticon rule. Starscream is a part of my personal rule. She inspires Teratron's combat talents and makes Coldshock barely tolerable around his elders; I doubt the mother of my creation knows of his 'foot binding' antics, but if Coldshock dares to include me in his schemes, I'm dangling him head first over the smelting pools of Kaon. It builds character.
I stroke her head softly and she doesn't move from my grasp. The lack of public affection makes this gesture even more precious than it is in the open.
"Feeling lonely? Give him a week, and Coldshock will tie your shoelaces for you." Does this 'betrayal' mean the father-son ties have weakened?
"I know about that." I stand corrected about Starscream, mumbling into my collar. "I'm going to nail our precious sparkling to the Nemesis by his wings if he tries that on me."
And such a loving, devoted creature, at that.
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"Atcheep! (Phhhrh)…"
"Huh?" Jazz forced a curious grunt, at the sound of a flatulent sneeze below his recharge berth. Nudging the collected kitsch around his bedside with his feet, the Porsche spotted a globular pair of lights staring back at him.
"Hey-! …Hey kid, whatcha' doing under my bed?" The tiny plea told Jazz that either Coldshock was underneath his bed, or Sideswipe had bullied another Cassettibot beyond psychological recovery.
"Please don't tell Ratchet I'm here, Jazz!" peeped the Decepticon creation.
"…Why? Are you missing a viral shot?" the saboteur asked.
"……No." Jazz rolled his optics at the lying squeak.
"Oh,really? And who told you it's okay to jive the meister?"
"Please Jazz, please don't tell!" Coldshock keened with heightened desperation at the older mech now, who took to a kneeling position to listen to the sparkling.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't." Jazz waited for the small clicking fingers to conjure a very good reason to invade his room.
"Okay! Okay! Ah! Um! W-Why are Skyfire or Omega Supper's nostrils so big?"
"It's Omega Supreme…but I've no idea, Shockster. Why?"
The youngster kept his silence until he could compose the answer fluidly. "…The same reason they have big fingers!"
When Ratchet asked Jazz whether he had seen the younger Transformer, Jazz was too knitted in his stitches to reply, managing a head shake in denial before the medic left the Porsche's room.
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A/N: Thanks to my sister for that family-fun joke! XDDD