Transformers belongs to Hasbro
The lab is a gorgeous thing. So warm and pretty, and so very spacious. Oil Slick wonders if he'll be getting lab minions as well, because that would be most excellent. He would love to have little minions running around, scampering back and forth to do his will.
Scalpel sits on his shoulder, tapping tiny peds on his armor, "Do you like it? You vill tell me if you like it."
He rubs his claws along the bot's side, "It is almost perfect. I need to do a little bit of modifications so that any bots I have working for me won't melt when I do my more dangerous experiments, but I don't think I could design it better."
Scalpel preens, "Good. I vanted it perfect, vhile letting you fix zings how you liked." The little weaver nibbles at his claws, "You vill be visiting me every so often, ja?"
He laughs softly, "Like you'd let me ignore you. I bet you will be the one coming to visit me, now that you're all alone."
He's slashed at with tiny claws, "Nein. I vill not. You vill visit me. Zen you vill sing for me like you alvays do. I vill not let you stop."
"Will you leave a schedule out for me," he asks, amused by the tiny bot's antics. "A list of when you expect me to serve as your entertainment. It would be helpful to know when you expect me in your lab."
Scalpel slashes at him again, "Do not zink I vill not do it. You vill come and serve me vhenever I demand it. You are still meine Oil Zlick, even if Megatron requires you to have your own lab. Feh. You vorked just fine in my own."
He smiles, putting the mech on one of the counters, "But I'll work even better here. You won't have me in your way constantly."
Scalpel skitters a little bit closer, leaning against him, "You vere not in my vay. I vanted you zere. You are not going to get avay from me zat easily."
He shakes his head, petting the bot gently, "You constantly yelled about me getting my chemicals all over your machinery. I'm not going to be in your way now. I am willing to keep visiting, just like you want to be with me."
Scalpel nibbles on his claws, "You vill be harassed by Starscream and ze creeperbot. I do not like it. You vill never be left alone."
"They will learn that avoiding my lab means avoiding strange gunk in their gears from all the fumes I intend to keep floating about. It will repel Starscream after he notices a slime layer forming on his wings, and I doubt Shockwave will find me interesting enough to risk his antlers rusting." Oil Slick looks forward to both instances with utter glee. He'd pulled a similar sort of trick off back when he was Acid Storm to his flock leader, and Starscream had been so wonderfully furious with him. It had been worth the gunk on his own wings.
Completely worth it.
Scalpel frowns, "You vill not gunk up my joints. I vill make you clean zem."
He smiles, "I'll give you the specialty mix to put in your solvent pool to get rid of it. You won't have to worry about it."
"You vill clean zem for me. I vill have you sitting in my vashrack to have you clean me."
He flicks one of the bot's antennae playfully, "Not going to have Dreadwing do it? He's much better at it than I would be. You know he helped me with making your armor."
"I vill have you do it because you caused ze problem. I am not going to punish my Dreadving for somezing zat you created. If I have gunk in my joints, zen you vill vash them out and be zankful zat I do not require you to do it viz your glossa."
At least the slime and gunk were not too foul tasting. He was well aware of the risk of any of the bots demanding he clean them that way. "How kind of you."
Scalpel nips at his claws, "Now you vill give me a kiss."
He barks out a laugh, moving away, "No." He turns around, setting up various parts of his new lab, "I'm not going to do that at all. You will just have to live with the fact that I'm no longer just going to do any random thing you demand."
Scalpel hops up and down angrily, an incredibly adorable gesture that is lost on the weaver, "Nein! You vill do as I say! I vill not let you ignore me!"
"I am not ignoring you, but I am not your minionbot either. You can request things of me, but I am not obligated to do them unless Megatron himself orders me to." The little bot fumes, and Oil Slick presses a kiss to the top of his head. "That being said, I do still care for you, Scalpel. I am not abandoning you. But you must treat me like your equal now. I will not accept you treating me like a toy for your enjoyment."
Scalpel hisses at him, and then settles down, folding his legs under him, expression and tone quite grumpy. "Fragger."
He smiles, "You will get used to it, Scalpel. Then you'll realize how much happier you are on your own and not dealing with me suddenly dropping down from the ceiling and surprising you."
The weaver clicks his mandibles together, "I do not like having to start over because you are too quiet. You vill not valk like zat around me."
He smirks, walking over to the bot silently, "Like this?"
"Ja! You vill not do it! You vill have a bell put on you. You are like a cybercat, and I vill not-"
"And cybercats learn to walk with bells silently. I already know how, and covering me in them will not help you in that at all."
"Feh. You are a constant zorn in my side." Scalpel narrows his optics, "Vhy do I put up viz you? Is it because you are such a pretty mech and I vant your spark? Mm. Perhaps zat is it. If you do not see ze vorziness of serving as my minionbot zen you cannot be a valuable sciencebot. I must have been deluding myself." The mech skitters away, off the table. "You vill come around eventually, and I vill be vaiting for you."
Oil Slick watches him go and sighs, shaking his head. "That mech is . . something else."
He hums softly as he sets everything up, starting to sing quietly a klik or so later. It isn't long before he stops, feeling a presence at the door, and looks behind him. Megatron is looking at him with dim optics, leaning against the door, "Don't stop just because I'm here, Oil Slick. It is nice to see that you're enjoying the lab."
Once, when he was very young, he would have been embarrassed about being caught singing, but he has long since had such reactions trained out of him. "Thank you, my lord." He returns to putting things away, "Did you need something, sir?"
Megatron walks in, rubbing his large servo over one of the counters, "Not quite yet, but I'm sure I'll figure something out." The bot touches his back, "Have you designed that thinner armor for yourself yet?"
Oil Slick tenses a bit. He has, but he has yet to put it on for more than testing. It makes him look so much thinner, and he knows the kinds of reactions he'll be getting if he walks around the base that way. "It is not yet finished. I am working on the final touches."
The servo drifts down to his aft, squeezing it firmly, and Oil Slick bites his glossa to keep from moaning. It takes every ounce of willpower to not shove his aft back and demand more. "I would love to see you in it when you finish, my sciencebot. Perhaps you could replace your treads as well?" The mech rubs one of his arms lightly, "Something more supple. Soft. It would suit you."
"And General Strika would yell at me about how I am not a prostibot, and shouldn't be trying to ruin our missions with cosmetic changes, my lord. It is better not to, since you like to ship us off at a moment's notice."
The treads are rubbed again, a little more demandingly, "You made the thinner armor stronger. Scalpel is increasingly distracting when he moves around, he's so very tiny now. You could do the same with your treads."
He has to keep from gasping in pleasure as Megatron squeezes his aft a little harder, "I could try, my liege. I am not sure how well it would work."
"It would work wonderfully, I'm sure." Megatron rubs his aft and then squeezes it hard enough to dent the metal, and Oil Slick can't help but mewl with pleasure, shoving his aft back for more. "Until then, I suppose I will enjoy your frame the way it is." He pushes Oil Slick forward, pinning him against the table. "Do you think you'll overload when I rub my spark on your aft?"
Oil Slick jerks, his spark throbbing at the idea. "I . . my liege, I am a reincar-"
"Yes, yes, I am well aware of that." There's a soft clinking of metal behind him, and Oil Slick's spark throbs harder. "Let me chain you down. As long as my spark does not touch yours, you should enjoy this."
He shivers, then shakes his head, "My lord, you are not-"
A chain rubs against his back, "You will enjoy it. You know you will. Don't think about your sparkbonded, think about me."
This is something that is just... not allowed. If he refuses, they're supposed to stop. This is not supposed to happen.
He's pinned down, being held solidly as Megatron rubs the chain over his frame, "I can feel how hot your spark is, just through your armor." The bot nips him, slowly winding the chain around his arms, "I am going to enjoy this."
Oil Slick swallows around a dry intake and shudders, "My liege. . I . . cannot." He twists out of Megatron's hold, used to far firmer grasps from Powerhug, and hides in the ceiling, tucking himself into a vent.
Megatron curses loudly, and lets the chain dangle like a tease from one servo. "Get back here, Oil Slick. If you come down now I will not punish you for running from me."
He trembles, and slowly crawls through the vents, away from his lab and the bot who keeps making his spark pulse uncomfortably.
Oil Slick shifts a tiny bit, not sure if he likes his brand new alt-mode reformat.
They got sent to Earth, and had to choose new modes. He already had his given to him, very first thing. It seems that Megatron had not forgotten him in the little time he'd been missing, and still very much wanted to use his frame like a toy. Especially if the way he looks is anything to go by.
He is thin. Insanely thin. He feels a bit like he could snap in half if he moves wrong. In fact, he is not so fond of the fact that he's going to have to replace his armor to thin it out again. His reformat thickened him up, and ruined his integrity. He could snap because of the armor being wrong now.
Even if he rather likes the fact that his shoulder decoration has two very curly horns that light up wonderful sensors at his touch, and his handle bars are deliciously sensitive. He also really loves that his treads got changed to tires. They are... surprisingly comfortable.
The way his claws fold down into them just beg for all sorts of filthy things, like having a lover chain his servos closed so he can't even use his claws to break free from the restraints. His aft is still deliciously pert and sensitive, if quite a bit smaller now. The most surprising change is his peds. They've always been sensitive, but now, rubbing a claw along a toe pipe, Oil Slick shudders with the knowledge that he could have a tactile overload from stimulation to this part of himself alone.
He's not sharing that fact with Megatron.
He looks like a prostibot.
There are spikes all over him, which really only makes him look like a well-decorated prostibot.
Strika pokes his side, "You vill need to be careful to stay out of anyvone's berth, Oil Slick. I vill not allow you to be damaged because a bot vas foolish enough to try to force you into something you do not vant."
He waves a servo, "I will be fine." He hums thoughtfully, "I want to go search the planet, and see what is going on here."
She scoffs, "Go meet zat ozer ninjabot on ze Autobots, you mean. You are very transparent."
He shrugs, "We got image captures of the bots, and I recognized Prowl. You should be glad that I know these things."
"Oh, I am very glad. I vould be happier if you vould find the bot you are meant to bond vith and get out of the moping that you do every stellar cycle. You vill be more useful to us then." Strika pushes him away. "Go, go. Ve vill make your excuses to Lord Megatron. I vant you to get out and do something useful for us. Get intel on the bots here."
Oil Slick childishly sticks out his glossa at her and dodges the swipe she aims at him. "Fine. I'll go. No need to push me."
She points at one of the openings out of the base, "Go. Or vill I have to assign you to a more difficult task? I vill not mi-"
He disappears before she can finish what she's saying, and quickly rushes out of the base. When he's far enough away, he pulls out his datapad on the bots here, and starts to walk. He doesn't really care if some organic finds finds him. He won't have a false one on his vehicle mode, anyway, so it would be blindingly obvious that he's not really supposed to be there.
He hums softly, flipping through the datapad absently. There is not very much on this at all, pretty much all of it is guess work and sketchy guesswork at that. Barely even worth looking at, really. They only have the name of Prowl, and that's only because he was the one to put it in. Prowl is the one with the most information, just because of what little he remembers while working with him in school.
He skims the rest, and then blinks, finding that the minibot has a name as well. Bumblebee.
He knows who to blame for that tidbit of information. Fragging mono-opticked creeperbot.
There's also a little comment in the bottom of that file: 'Capture alive if possible. -General Shockwave.' Looks like some bot wants a mini for their harem. Shockwave is such a rapebot.
Oil Slick sighs, and then stops. And stares.
Stares down at the strange, fluffy creature staring back up at him. It is some kind of disgusting organic, but it seems unafraid of him. It has the same twisty horns that his shoulder decoration does.
He puts the datapad away, and kneels down to look at the thing. It is... adorable in a gross organic way.
He kinda wants it as a pet, but does not want to damage it with his black thumb. He kills organic things by getting too close to them, but he doesn't know if it is just plants or it also includes things like... this fluffy thing.
He holds out his servo, and it snuffles at his claws before bleating at him and running off.
He wants to pet it.
In private, so that it doesn't get back to the other Decepticons that the zombie-mech does have a spark. He will never live it down if they find out he wants this.
Oil Slick follows the fluffy thing, which looks like a white fluffy ball of whipped energon with legs as it bounces around through the organic grass. Oil Slick glances down at his peds and shrugs as the grass withers away everywhere he steps. He's not entirely comfortable leaving such an obvious trail, but he doesn't have much of a choice, really. Eventually, the organic creature slows down and stops in a group of other fluffy organics. Some of them have horns and some do not.
He... really wants one. Far more than he should.
He reaches out again, and they snuffle at him before scattering.
He knows he could just pick one of them up and keep it, but that would sort of ruin what he's doing. He wants one that doesn't take off when he gets near, so that he can have it in his rooms and it won't freak out or be upset when he returns. He knows that some of the bots have a pet organic, and he doesn't see why he shouldn't have one of his own.
He can just declare that he doesn't want one that talks back.
He could modify it in his lab. Of course, he'd likely need to get several of them to test the mods on so his favorite would only be subjected to safe alterations. He could extend its pathetic organic life. Make it capable of fueling on energon. Perhaps the energon would turn the strange fluffy white parts into fluffy pink. It would be a very cute pet then.
Oil Slick sits in the grass, and it dies around him, and he waits patiently as the fluffy organic balls dart towards him, and then away.
He is pretty sure one of them is going to sit next to him, and that will be the one he keeps safe, when he's suddenly tackled from behind, and pinned in the dirt. He struggles to get up, ready to murder whoever did this when he hears, "I wasn't expecting to ever see you here. What are you even doing?"
He knows that voice, and he shoves the mech off of him. "Fragger. You scared all of them away."
Prowl looks around, "The sheep? They'll be back eventually. You know you can't stay out here, you're killing everything."
Which is true enough, there's a gigantic dead patch of grass all around him. He sighs and stands up, "I'll come back later, then."
The other cyclebot wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him along, "Let's go talk in a safer place for you."
He allows Prowl to lead him away from the fluffy things . . the sheep. He'll be back. And he'll catch one and take it home with him. Prowl guides him into a strange patch of paved land. One of the main roads, well away from the fields of sheep and organic mulch. "You disappeared for a very long time. Yoketron was constantly pestering me to see if I knew where you were. You couldn't have sent him a message while you were on that pathetic ship with the Autobots?"
Prowl shrugs easily, "There was rarely any way to contact anyone. We had one long-range com, and it was limited to emergency calls. I had planned on contacting him when we reached a decently inhabited planet, but . . the Allspark intervened."
He nods, resting his head on top of Prowl's. "Yoketron missed you a very great deal."
Prowl snorts, "I'm amazed that you were allowed to be in contact with Autobots, Decepticon. How did you get away with it? I know that if I had even tried to contact you, the ship would have reported it."
Oil Slick smiles, "I'm here for recon, and I was clearly gathering information on you horrible Autobots while talking to my old sensei. It is surprisingly easy to spin this sort of thing to my advantage. In fact, I am doing information gathering right now. I have you at my mercy."
"Oh, am I at your mercy now?" Prowl tugs on him and Oil Slick ends up on his back on the road, the heated pavement almost blissfully warm as the mech pins his wrists down. "I rather think it's the other way around, don't you?" The ninjabot studies him with dim optics, "You're so much thinner now. And taller."
Oil Slick squirms a bit, testing his grip, revving when the servos on him tighten almost painfully. "And you are more of a brute than I remember, dearest Prowl. All this time with repairbots has roughened your edges."
Prowl presses a kiss to his lips, a rather cautious one that Oil Slick has never gotten from the bot before. He kisses back, letting Prowl flick his glossa in his mouth and control the pace. Poor bot must miss ninjabots a very great deal to go after him. He will not be doing more than this, and Prowl knows it. The bot pulls away after a bit, optics dim, "You like it when I shove you around, so that is what I will do."
He smiles, shaking his head, "So hard up for partners that you are flirting with a sparkbonded bot?"
Prowl growls playfully, "So you found your bonded, then?"
"Not exactly." Oil Slick slips out from under him and stands tall. "Now, enough of this. I am here to inspect your base and spy on you." He drapes himself over Prowl's shoulders, licking a fairing playfully, "Take me there. Isn't it your duty to capture big, bad Decepticons."
Prowl pats his aft, "I wouldn't exactly call you big."
Oil Slick pouts, "You're hurting my delicate feelings, Prowl. You are a terrible Autobot. They should send you back for remedial lessons."
Prowl laughs softly, walking with him, "Not going to work. They tried, and here I am again."
He wraps his legs around the bot's waist, letting Prowl carry him in a slightly more comfortable way, and smiling as the bot starts to run, "We are notoriously difficult to train, this is very true."
Prowl picks up the pace, "I'm not taking you to my room on the base. You'll kill my tree."
He rests his head on top of Prowl's, "No recharging in your berth together?"
"Absolutely not. You'll kill my tree, and I love that tree." He pats Oil Slick's aft again. "But we could always borrow Optimus's room. He has a nice, sturdy berth. Very good for fragging on, though it's not wise to let him know that we've been using it for such purposes." He wonders who Prowl has fragged on that berth. The name . . Optimus, it niggles at him.
"Optimus is a truckbot, isn't he?"
Prowl tips his helm to one side, "Yes. He's a very hot-afted truckbot. One that doesn't like sharing his spark."
He hums thoughtfully, "I think Sky Garry talked about him. Does the Magnus like him?"
Prowl makes an irritated sound, and grinds out, "Wouldn't stop staring at him whenever he thought Optimus wasn't paying attention."
He hums softly, "Most likely the same one, then." He frowns, "Did Sky Garry ever manage to frag the Magnus?" He doubts it, but maybe Prowl would know.
The bot shakes his head, "Nope. Jazz filled me in on it. He tried a few times, and Ultra kept rejecting him. Bot only likes truck models, won't go for something like Garry. He's just not into racecars." Prowl frowns, "Which is disappointing, since he is also really hot. I fragged him a few times. Nice hot spark.'
"I wouldn't know." Oil Slick sighs, and then frowns. "This is your base? Prowl, even for you, this is a slum." He waves his claws in disgust, "I've seen nicer buildings after the seekers have dropped bombs on them."
Prowl wraps an arm around his waist, "It's the best we have right now. Don't insult it or I'll make you stay out here and not let you have any of our energon."
Oil Slick arches an optic ridge, "I doubt you have any energon of quality."
Prowl huffs, "I'll have you know that I stole it out of the Steelhaven myself."
He snorts, "And your leader just allowed it?"
Prowl smirks, "I just said that it was given to us. No need to explain how."
He nods, approving of it, "If they don't give you something good enough, just replace it with something of theirs." He nudges Prowl's side, "How many times did Yoketron come back with new things and no one the wiser on Cybertron?"
Prowl barks out a laugh as they walk in, "More times than it is worth counting."
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