Okay, Chapter 4! The long-awaited meeting and first Megatron appearance! Sorry for the wait!
I own nothing except Nesincer, Nightscar, Blackwing, Nightstand, and this AU.
Many thanks to the Guest who reviewed!
All was silent.
Said silence was almost palpable, its cold, slimy grasp covering any being, sentient or not, in its heartless embrace.
The Commanders and their Second in Commands were immobile. It was highly likely that their deranged medic would torture the unfortunate Nightscar endlessly, but they had not expected it to be so... brutal. By the sound of it, the triple-changer had used his self-generated poison and his own weapons. Perhaps he had been more unoccupied than they had first thought...
"I am pleased, considering the circumstances." Airachnid spoke, her voice a low and devious purr, as her spider legs shifted and clicked behind her. "He deserved that."
"It was a result of your dispute." Nesincer, the Head of Special Operations and Nightscar's commanding officer, crossed his scarred servos. His optics switched from a calming creamy white to an unnerving crimson red, a color that personified the mech's growing rage.
"I was merely defending myself, Nesincer," Airachnid said, sickeningly sweet. "He was the one who started it."
Nesincer did not appear pleased by the spider's words, yet he did nothing to show his irritation. Instead, he turned to Soundwave. "Nightscar was my best. Was it deemed necessary to have punished him so?"
Soundwave did not respond verbally. He turned his helm towards the battle-scarred mech addressing him, the temperature of the room dropping even more; it was a chill that settled deep into their inner workings, carving its way through their internals. They all shuddered, aware that the patience of the hypothetically callous TIC was being tested to the breaking point.
At that moment, the door hissed open. A tall, slim femme entered, large wings raised almost arrogantly above her back. Her deep red optics burned with a hidden passion as she approached her designated seat at the head of the table. Yet she did not sit. Standing, her elegant and intricate wings were splayed with an air of near boredom and irritation. Her brooding silence only increased the tense atmosphere of the room.
"Starscream." Dreadwing broke the silence, the growl of his engine echoing. "Where is Lord Megatron?"
The femme pursed her lip plates, examining her long talons. "Lord Megatron will be joining us shortly. There were matters to attend to." Her optics were dim as she became lost in her thoughts.
"Commander." A black and silver mech with large wings spoke up, his cold emotionless tone nearly as chilling as Soundwave's recordings. "With all due respect, we have been waiting for some time. We all recognize the fact that Lord Megatron is not present as of now. Perhaps it would be logical to begin the meeting."
Starscream's optics brightened and focused on the speaker, blazing a furious scarlet. "Are you ordering me, Blackwing?" Despite the displayed anger, the Femme Commander's vocalized statement came out smooth and cool.
But before he could respond, a cold voice cut him off.
"Starscream, that is no way to treat our equals."
An enormous mech stepped into the room. Polished black armor covered his powerful frame, deep red accents interspersed on his servos and chest. Spikes curved outward from broad shoulder panels, symbolizing the obvious massive strength he possessed. He moved silently, with a fluid grace that contradicted the brutal way he was known for destroying anything he believed a foe.
His deep red glare penetrated each mech or femme sitting at the table. A slight smirk exposed razor sharp dentia, and the massive red and black fusion cannon mounted on his right servo glinted in the dim light, the power inside churning and whirring.
"Lord Megatron." Everyone immediately rose to their pedes and bowed low.
"Enough. Sit, all of you," the massive mech ordered, his powerful voice echoing. They all obeyed, though Starscream took her precious time.
"Soundwave has informed me that insubordination has occurred in my absence," Megatron rumbled. His dark ruby glare pierced every officer as his optics narrowed; he loathed insubordination as much as his third in command. "Explain."
"Allow me, my lord." A low, drawling voice sounded. Knock Out appeared in the doorway, Breakdown shadowing him. The triple changer's optics were as bright as the infernos in the Pits of Kaon, and his dentia were extended, dripping fresh Energon onto his jet black armor.
"Ah, Knock Out." While it was known that Megatron did not possess favorites, it was known that the insane mech was a likely candidate; he knew how to get the job done, quick and easy. "How nice of you to show." He watched as the medic and his second in command reached their seats, but did not sit. They were waiting for Megatron's approval.
"Proceed."
Knock Out's engines growled audibly, the vicious noise tearing through the tense atmosphere of the room. A frightening smirk appeared on his faceplates as his wings flared wide behind him, and his forked glossa ran over the Energon coating his poisonous dentia. "The insubordinate was Nightscar, the second in command of the Special Operations Division, run by the lovely Nesincer." The black mech motioned to the cold mech sitting across from him. "He was, apparently, in a mood that was...worse for the wear. Said mood was encouraged and worsened by our charming femme Airachnid." His optics blazed as he pinned his gaze on the purple, black, and yellow femme, the manic light in his optics wilder than usual. Breakdown shifted behind him, but it was unclear if he was unnerved by his partner's mood or pleased by it.
The femme's armor flared indignantly. "If I may be so bold, master," she began, addressing the massive figure at the head of the table, "Nightscar was not encouraged by me. He was merely...shall we say, preoccupied by our tardiness." She nodded at the black and red triple changer.
The mech said nothing in response, his smirk growing into a sadistic grin as a low growl rumbled throughout him.
"If I may, my lord?" Dreadwing spoke up, looking up respectfully at the former gladiator. The leader of the Decepticons nodded once, and the massive Seeker stood with a grace and silence that belied his mass. "While Knock Out and Airachnid were late earlier, Nightscar had been the first one to arrive. We are all well aware of his punctuality, and this need to be early can be known as...obsessive. Therefore, his mood was only sour due to the fact that his fellow commanders failed to arrive on time."
"Are you saying that Nightscar did not disrespect an officer of higher authority?" Airachnid demanded. "You were the one he disrespected earlier."
At this, Megatron seemed to wake from a daze, his crimson optics focusing dangerously. "Nightscar disrespected you." It was more of a statement than a question.
Dreadwing's narrow crimson optics darkened ever so slightly. "Yes, my liege. He refused to obey a direct order."
Megatron growled, his engine rumbling in accordance with the action. "Then, by all means, he deserved what Knock Out did to him." The scarlet optics blazed, flicking over to the mentally unstable medic, who was watching the events unfolding out before him, his powerful wings fanning the air in a sporadic rhythm. "This matter is closed. Now -"
"Lord Megatron."
All optics turned to the speaker. It was Breakdown. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the navy armor clamped down on his strong frame.
"Yes, Breakdown?" the warlord hissed, armor shifting and cannon whirring.
"With all due respect, Nightscar had been known for his massive mood swings. Medication for such mood swings were prescribed by myself; past brutal processor scans had resulted in the decimation of his emotional command cortex. Knock Out and myself were only just able to repair such damage. His moods varied based on the event occurring around him, and he always had trouble adapting to situations that changed too quickly for his processor to catch up with. His outburst earlier may have only been a result of a condition his glitched emotional cortex."
Before the tyrannical warlord could respond, a malicious snarl sounded. Knock Out leaned forward in his seat, helm cradled in his servos as tremors racked his lean chassis. Breakdown was immediately at his partner's side, muttering reassuring words to the triple-changer. Knock Out shook his helm, wings flared and armor rising and falling from his frame. The black mech's condition was well-known; his body was dependent upon the lifeblood of others for survival, and when said lifeblood stockpiles ran out, the medic would revert to a feral, savage beast intent on incapacitating any living being near him.
They all watched as he pushed away his partner, straightening. His dentia and claws were extended, and furious growls rumbled throughout his chassis. The insanity that was clear in his burning gaze made it clear that his sanity -what little of it he had left- was deteriorating, replaced by a monstrous rage that could destroy any being near him. Audible scraping of chairs was heard; the surrounding commanders were not about to let an insane, extremely dangerous mech anywhere near them.
"Knock Out, that is enough." Megatron's optics narrowed, refined armor flaring from his powerful frame. He was well aware of the medic's condition, and did not desire the result said condition could -would, only if he were released- cause.
The medic snarled again, armor flared in unveiled aggression and fury. His gaze, thankfully, was fixed on his partner, who had faced the enraged mech. The sanity of the black mech was extremely questionable at best, whether he reverted to the ravenous beast or when he was stained with a jaded personality and sought to relieve himself of said boredom by finding a new dissection experiment. But now, Knock Out was no longer thinking rationally -or as rationally as a mentally unstable being could do- and was dangling on the edge of deciding whether or not he wished to terminate all those who stood in his way of having a new meal before him...
"Knock Out." Megatron rose from his seat, mouthplates set in a scowl that exposed sharp dentia. "It was not a request."
The triple-changer faltered ever so slightly, optics flickering. He was loyal to Megatron, even his second personality.
The atmosphere was tense and wary. stretching over the beings within its reach to pierce them with the spear of fear and cold. The chilled, unneeded air swirled around them, moaning with the whisper of the wind, thin wispy fingers trailing deceptively over powerful, shifting armor. Red, silver, white, and black gazes darted throughout the room, overwrought with the barely concealed threat lingering.
It was only when the assassin bared his fangs and stood did true panic begin to penetrate their supposedly emotionless sparks...
Okay, that's that! Oh, and here's a list of the Commanders:
Megatron: Leader of the Decepticons. Powerful warrior. Not to be taken lightly.
Starscream: Second in Command; Head of Military Operations: command army divisions; takes over when Megatron is absent. Cunning and elegant; loyal to Megatron and Megatron only. Overthrowing attempts not dealt with lightly.
Soundwave: Third in Command; Head of Communications: maintain communication channels and ground bridge/space bridge controls; take over in the absence of Megatron and Starscream. Master spy, tactician, gladiator, and assassin. Formidable warrior.
Airachnid: Head of Security. Master warrior. Duties: keep warship and grounded vehicles secure.
Dreadwing/Skyquake: Weapons Specialists: maintain weapons of warship, supply needed materials. Deceptive, powerful, swift and cunning. Extremely formidable warriors. Spark-split twins.
Knock Out/Breakdown: Heads of Medical Bay; Knock Out: CMO, Breakdown: CMO SIC. Duties: heal any and all "fatal" injuries
Nesincer/Nightscar: Heads of Special Operations; Nesincer: Head of Special Ops, Nightscar: Spec Ops SIC (Former). Duties: Oversee undercover assignments, control sleeper agents, etc.
Blackwing/Nightstand: Heads of Espionage and Sabotage; Duties: correspond with Spec Ops in assigmnents, training protocols, etc.
A/N: Nesincer's name is "devious" in Romanian. It is pronounced Nes-een-chair.
I apologize for how quickly this escalated, and for how short this is. I wanted to end with a cliffhanger, so...yeah.
Like, hate? Please R&R!
