Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related.
AN: All at the end this time. I have my reasons.
Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter.
11/ 28 Kick Ass (pre G1, Cybertron, Beginning of the war)
A pale, glittering shadow crept slowly through the narrow turns of an air duct, inch by inch closing in on his unsuspecting prey.
Wine-red optics glanced at almost invisible markings in the dull metal of the shafts and recognized the correct signs, leading him further into one of the most secure bases the young, but already infamous Decepticon faction had to offer.
The mech felt pride well up inside him. Here he was, in the heart of Decepticon territory, in the newly built fortress Dark Mount, about to assassinate the Supreme Commander himself.
And nobody was, or would ever be the wiser.
He grinned in anticipation, a short flash in the near darkness of the tunnels, and began to work with nimble fingers at the grating that covered the opening to the next part of the air ducts. Screws were loosened and caught before they would hit the metallic bottom of the shaft with a treacherous clang.
The mech crawled on, his sleek form winding around tight turns with an almost effortless agility, his only concern the protrusions on his back, which scraped now and then over the metallic walls. Faster and faster he crept forward, pumps pounding and his Energon rushing through his lines.
Almost there, almost….
Only minutes until he would fire the final shot at his unsuspecting foe, and become a legend.
The Slayer of Megatron.
It tasted like the finest high-grade on his tongue.
Just two more turns and he reached his destination, a grating at the bottom of the tunnel, leading right into the personal quarters of the Slagmaker himself.
His fingers trembled slightly as he unscrewed the grate, leaning it against one of the walls around him.
The mech slid down the opening, and spotted his target sitting at a desk, the silvery back turned to him.
Another gleeful, almost maniacal grin appeared on dark lips.
The assassin unsubspaced his rifle, lifted it, aimed and waited one last, eternally long second.
Now….
Suddenly a hand shot into his view, triggering the safety on his rifle and preventing him from securing his rightful place among the legends of their kind.
The assassin stupidly opened his mouth in surprise and protest, but he never got a chance to utter even one single sound.
A second hand slid over his mouth, while the first disappeared out of his field of view and hit against his throat effectively crushing the vocalizer within.
The sudden pain reminded the intruder what, and more importantly where he was, and the terrible danger he was now in.
He jerked back, trying to loosen the hands on him, but his assailant swept one leg into the backs of his knees and the young mech's legs buckled. He saw a silvery white shape in front of him whirling from one leg to the other, then a hard kick against his chest sent him flying against a wall and his armor cracked audibly.
The impact had his processor spinning and his fuel pumps reeling, so he only could watch helplessly as the pale, winged shape of his attacker closed in on him to loom above his immobile form, one hand on his hip, the other carelessly hanging at his side, the optics narrowed to bright ruby slits in a flawless dark face.
"Who sent you?"
The assassin knew the owner of this raspy voice.
What Decepticon wouldn't?
Starscream was well known among his subordinates for his prowess in battle (second only to the Supreme Commander himself), his loyalty to the cause and his status as Megatron's Second in Command of his young army and personal bodyguard.
The young mech on the ground also knew, that even if he stayed silent and endured every torture Starscream inflicted upon him, his clients wouldn't escape the white and red Seeker. Either he would find them himself, after "questioning" everybody the captured assassin had ever come in contact with, or he would set Soundwave and his infallible telepathy to the task.
Everybody who had paid to see Megatron dead had already lost their lives. They just didn't know it yet.
"Redhand," the assassin sent over his com link, his optics never wavering from the white mech in front of him. He could feel the antennae on his back quivering in fear, but also in anticipation.
There was no greater honor for a traitor like him then to die at the hands of Starscream, Megatron's faithful and valued SIC, his right hand.
The blazing red optics regarded him for a moment, then the Seeker nodded and his hand slipped from his hip.
The assassin barely had time to see the flick of a light blue wrist and the soft shimmer of a blade, as his Spark was extinguished soundlessly.
Starscream stepped away from the bleeding corpse of graying metal, reminding himself to have a cleaning crew come later, then he turned on one heel and stepped soundlessly behind the still sitting Megatron, knife still in his hand dripping with pale pink Energon.
"Good work," murmured the warlord, not even bothering to look at his bodyguard, as he continued to observe numerous datapads filled with calculations, troop movements and diagrams.
He jerked away from his work as the blade was rammed in the table only inches in front of his right hand.
The silver gunformer glanced to his right, into Starscream's face, which was suddenly so close to his own that he could feel the slight warmth radiating from the dark faceplates.
"Exactly how long do you think you can continue like this?" hissed the Seeker, not looking at his superior and friend.
Megatron narrowed his optics, "What do you mean?"
Starscream turned his head to look at Megatron's profile.
"He was about to kill you! And you knew that he was here. He was louder than a drunk and horny Skywarp in a room full of femmes!"
Crimson optics flashed in barely contained rage as the Seeker shouted at his leader, "Why didn't you do anything!"
Megatron turned his head and leaned back slightly to have a better look at the dark face, alive in vivid fury.
"You were here," he stated, sounding confused by this sudden outburst from his SIC.
Starscream stared at him for a moment, then his optics flashed in white-hot rage.
In one fluid motion, Megatron felt the cool metal of the blade against his throat.
"That…," the Seeker palpably struggled to hold his emotions in check, even if the hand with the knife was perfectly still.
"That is no reason, Megatron…. My presence shouldn't have mattered to you! You should have been the one who caught and killed him, to teach everybody out there that you can't mess with the Decepticons and their mighty leader…. But YOU ONLY SAT THERE!"
Megatron winced at the high, irritated roar directly beside his audio sensors. The blade at his neck nicked his metallic skin and drew drops of bright Energon.
By now, the Decepticon leader was more than just a little uneasy about the situation – but he trusted Starscream daily with his life, and firmly believed that the Seeker didn't want to kill him.
So he stayed silent and gave the winged mech time to cool down.
Starscream cycled several deep intakes to calm himself, then he continued in a lower and, far more controlled tone, even if the underlying venom and rage still remained, "What if I hadn't been here, Megatron?"
The silver gunformer opened his mouth to reply that Starscream would always be there, in time – but the Seeker was far from being finished.
"Megatron, what exactly do you think you are? A simple leader? Somebody this army could replace at any time? I'm sorry to destroy your illusions, but it isn't as EASY as you think it is…. You are not only our leader, Megatron, you are… our symbol, our dream, our hope, our only future! YOU CAN'T DIE! NOT YET!
"If you would die now, the whole Decepticon army would shatter into what they were at the very beginning.
Misfits, criminals, dreamers of a new life as a glorious race dominating galaxies, without a suppressing, corrupted government.
"We can't survive without you!
"What if I hadn't been there, Megatron?
"Sure, there are better leaders out there, smarter mechs, stronger fighters, more clever tacticians – but you stood in front of us all and promised us hope when we felt there was nothing left for us. YOU spoke to us of a new Golden Age for all, of a Cybertron brilliant like a sun in its glory, ruling the whole universe in its superiority!
"YOU! Not them.
"You and Optimus Prime, you are what embodies everything either Decepticon or Autobot. Without you, this whole war would be over immediately. You don't have time to trust others with your safety, regardless how loyal they proved to be in the past.
"You must constantly watch your back and fill all the Spark around you with your dreams and goals, until every Decepticon out there becomes a living symbol of our cause and you truly are the leader you think yourself to be!
"But you must make haste, Megatron, before Prime beats you to it and his own dream learns to fly and spreads like the disease it is and damn us all to the life we sought to escape. Before he and every other dead Autobot becomes a martyr to their beliefs and each death will only fuel the fire of their hopes….
"So wake up from your happy, little illusions Megatron, and finally behave like the symbol you are to all of us!"
Pain lanced through Megatron's throat where the blade had dug in deeper each time Starscream had raised his voice.
A steady flow of Energon trickled down his chest armor, but the silver mech just couldn't bring himself to care.
He stared ahead, not really seeing anything.
"What if I can't be this symbol you speak of, Starscream?" he asked quietly after a time.
The blade disappeared as quickly as it had found its way to the silvery neck and the Seeker retreated.
Megatron could feel his gaze burning into his back.
"Then I will do what I have to do and force you to be it! We have gone too far and lost too much to lose now."
The Supreme Commander lowered his head and offlined his optics.
And Starscream, Second in Command of the Decepticon army, and Megatron's best friend, left.
Five assassination attempts later, Megatron lost a loyal soldier, good friend and trusted confidant forever….
He gained a constant reminder instead, a reminder of all the things he was and wasn't, in the shape of a Seeker with burning red eyes, always haunting him with his greatest failure. A conniving SIC who forced him to constantly watch his back, to secure his place on the top with an iron fist and an almost paranoid vigilance, a traitor giving him again and again the chances he needed to prove his superiority to his own troops and ignite the fire of his beliefs in them.
Somebody who forced him to accept the symbol that he was and to act accordingly...
Megatron was grateful and ashamed each time he witnessed the sacrifice Starscream had made for the sake of the Decepticons and all of Cybertron, and he longed for the day he finally could show his gratitude, either through praising his SIC as the loyal warrior he truly was – or by granting him a swift and painless death, freeing him from this horrible life filled with shame and staged treachery.
Megatron longed for the day he would become the leader he once believed himself to be….
AN: So….
How many of you thought the assassin to be Starscream? Hands in the air, guys! I want to see your sheepish faces!
Once again some explanation to this chapter.
To me, "Kick Ass" not only means some cool moves and an Energon covered landscape, but, I think it can work for a verbal "beating" as well. And because I read somewhere once, that Starscream was Megatron's bodyguard for some time, this little chapter took shape.