NB: This chapter could be deemed a little rude by some, and I usually don't like the whole "rude" stuff thrown in, but I thought it'd be amusing to ruin some skanky endevours.
Chapter Fifteen
20th December
2240hrs
It was much colder then usual. The heavy dark clouds had dumped their wet cargo down upon the landscape that surrounded the city, resulting in a lot of mud and sludge oozing down the near by mountain slopes. The deep fluff obscured the night stars and the moon, and if it wasn't for the lights from the city it'd be pitch black. Occasionally it would drizzle, the cool damp ran down his chassis as he stood on the balcony, looking out over the rebuilding structure was both morbid and yet filled him with some hope… but the new leader of the Autobot did wonder how long it would take for the Decepticons to render this place to near ash again.
"Coming back to the berth, baby?"
The cheap femmebot who most would class as a whore called to him.
He turned and looked at her from his position and smiled insincerely. She either didn't notice, didn't pick it up, or didn't care. He came back to the berth and sat down.
"So… can I visit again tomorrow? My shuttle leaves in two cycles, tomorrow will probably be the last night we have".
She nattered.
"Sure".
He said without looking at her.
Most of his officers would evacuate their fuel tanks if they knew the Autobot leader was 'facing some cheap skank off a transport. She was simply just another grunt on that scruffy looking shuttle that hauled scrap around the universe. She was the only femme on board so she probably had more roles then just "interior atheistic co-ordinator", which was a fancy way of saying she kept things spotless. She didn't pick colour schemes or lighting modes, she was essentially a cleaner, and he'd been on the shuttle, she certainly didn't do that job very effectively.
There was also no way he could or wanted to know exactly what else she got up to on shore leave in different ports. He cringed and was glad that if he did pick up anything First Aide would be tactful and respect his privacy. Unlike that old medic… what was his name? Ratchet? Rodimus was sure he'd met him before, years ago, during the early days of his life at the training facility. Ratchet had been passing through, visiting one of the senior officers or someone, and while he hadn't, or couldn't be sure, that he had met him in person, or even conversed with him, he had seen him rag on some idiot who forgot it's the grenade you throw, not the pin.
He was aware of the strumpet-bot massaging his broad shoulders and whispering incredibly dirty things into his audios. He chuckled deeply, seductively, only by reflex. Arcee would be horrified, but she was with Springer now, so she pretty much voided her right to nag him about his choices in femmes. He sure would be disappointing Optimus if he could see him now. But that Prime was dead, he was in charge now. Optimus always had femmes gunning for him, but with Elite as his "wife", to use a human word, he behaved himself and remained loyal to his vow to her. Plus, most femmes would never dare cross paths with Elite. He wondered if Elite was still alive somewhere. After the mess Unicron made on Cybertron Elite and her team were unable to be located and it was presumed they, like so many, were offline. But in the few months Rodimus was in charge, he'd berthed at least 63 femmes. He was quite amazed how he found the time, and how he'd not been caught by Magnus or yelled at by Magnus. Tight afted bastard.
"Ooooh".
The femme moaned as she ran her tapering fingers up his back linkage support. He remained somewhat stoic for a moment, giving continued thoughts to his angst.
"What's wrong baby? Ain't I getting your engine revving?"
She asked as she ran her hands under his arms and down his abdomen.
He turned to address her and decided he better show some interest, femmes of her type talked with other femmes of her type and they might spread a rumour that he was a bastard or a cold 'facer and that never won the good ones over to his cheap hit up lines. He gave her a passionate kissed, albeit forced and was working his fingers around the latches of her chassis when they were both startled by a loud metallic sounding clang.
"What was that?"
She asked, head perking up and jerking around.
"I dunno".
Rodimus stood from the berth and his optics began to access the surrounds of his quarters. Magnus would have just stood there, making himself known by the simple aura of his disapproval. Kup would have made some comment that could be argued as forced, amused or reminiscent of his life. Perhaps a Decepticon spy?
His sensors relayed to him that there was no one there. So he shrugged.
"Guess it just must be some structural echo from the construction work somewhere".
He reckoned as he sat back down on the berth.
"Now, I do believe I was about to see what I'm dealing with".
Their first romp had been fast and without any real thought of generosity for the other, most of their armour had remained on, and Rodimus had always felt cheap for not getting completely… revealed… with his current entertainment. The slut in his berth didn't seem to care either way.
The latches on her chassis gave way and he was in the process of removing it when the clanging sound became more intentional.
"Someone is there!"
She pushed him off her in obvious concern.
"But my sensors said…"
"Your sensors must be screwy!"
She growled at him irritably, he was going to reply with a rather nasty comment regarding interfacing transmitted viruses and corrupt programming but thought better of it if he wanted a round two.
"I'll check again".
He sighed.
"You do that".
She tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out unsteady and she just came across as afraid.
Rodimus swung a leg over the berth and was going to place it on the floor when the whole berth began to shake violently. The harlot started screaming, grabbing the flimsy metallic sheet up to her loosened chassis plate. Rodimus lost his balance and fell flat on the floor. While down there he peered under the berth, there was nothing there and his scanners told him there was no physical reason why it would be shaking so.
The new leader of the Autobots staggered upright and hushed the panicking floozy.
The bed stopped shaking and there was a strange and uneasy silence in the large quarters.
"What was that? What's happening? Is this some kind of kinky joke? What's wrong with you? Are you doing this?"
The trollop stammered through her shock.
"Shut up".
Rodimus growled softly.
The femme of the night didn't particularly want to hang around and see what would happen.
"Don't call me!"
She squealed as she jumped from the berth and ran towards the door. The yellow, orange and red Autobot wasn't sure if it was her panicking or something on the ground, but the femme suddenly tripped. She landed hard on her front, naked chassis, her pieces of armour lying strewn about the room; she was obviously not interested in her shame. Obviously.
The Prime felt his fuel tanks churn when he watched her flip over – against her own power. She was suddenly being dragged by some invisible force along the floor towards the door. She, obviously, was screaming, limbs flailing out against a force unseen, unheard and very realistically untouchable. The Autobot was very much concerned to say the least and took a few steps back, unsure what he needed to do to make this event stop. Then he felt a heavy force against his chest, he was aware of him no longer being in touch with the floor, aware of being in the air, being pulled back or pushed and then wham, he was slammed into the wall. The force knocked his CPU from consciousness.
--
Coming back online, he wasn't sure if he'd been in deep recharge and all of the events had been a twisted dream. Instead, he found an empty quarters, with the armour of a femme laying about the place, the sheet that she'd gripped during the berth's shaking was now bunched up against the door. She was gone. In a moment of clarity he was inwardly horrified and outwardly concerned what Magnus or anyone would say if they found out or witnessed a naked Jezebel running screaming from his quarters. His internal chronometer wasn't back online yet so he was unable to determine the time. He slowly stood, rubbing the back of his head which had taken the brunt of the impact. There was a rather sickening unease in the room, a sensation in the atmosphere that existed there that unsettled him He braced himself against the wall and made an action that was similar to a cough.
After a few moments he managed to take a few steps towards the berth. It was cold and empty. He activated the lights with a verbal command and found no response. He decided it best to leave. Now. He rummaged around until he found his armour and reattached it, no matter how bad, there was no point in strolling around naked as the day his creator sparked him.
Of course, there was the issue of what the Pit was that and what does he do now?
Where too from now?