"You were able to get it without being seen?"
Megatron lounged against a cluster of rocks, his talons drumming against their rough surfaces. Mikaela stood in front of him, data pad in hand, eyes trying not to linger on Megatron's form. It was nighttime outside, the moon shining brightly and casting an eerie glow on the trees, glinting off Megatron's armor.
She didn't answer at first. The guilt seemed to be choking her from the inside, squeezing and squeezing at her spark and making it impossible to form any words.
Give in or give up. She could run, transform down and take the information with her, give it back to Ratchet. Even in his own alternate form, Megatron wasn't as fast as Mikaela.
Or she could give it to him like a good little dog, hold her hand out and let his talons….
"Answer, femme!" he suddenly barked.
Mikaela gulped and said, "no. I was able to sneak into the med bay and get it. I even put the decoy in, like you told me."
"That Autobot medic is clever," Megatron tapped the side of his helm for emphasis. "He'll notice, soon enough."
Mikaela didn't reply.
"Enough time for you to come crawling back to me."
"I would never betray…" Mikaela trailed off, realizing the hypocrisy of her words. She had already betrayed the Autobots.
Roadrunner was in her ear, suddenly, hissing like a snake.
Traitor. You'd be better off on your own.
Mikaela shook her head. Megatron gestured with his talon, one fine optic ridge raised. Mikaela stepped away, shielding the data pad and saying, "what do you want it for?"
"What?"
"You said that you wanted revenge," Mikaela let a small stream of air escape her lips. "What do you mean by that?"
"It's none of your concern, femme."
"It's all of my concern," Mikaela snapped, shocked at her own courage. She hadn't been thinking of asking, hadn't been thinking of saying anything at all. Just take Megatron's advice and drop off the information before the guilt got to her.
It had already gotten to her, and it was too late to turn back. She just hoped that the more she found out, the more guilt would be lessened.
"You want to know?" Megatron snorted. "Bothersome little femme. Not knowing when to shut your lip plates will get you in a lot of trouble."
"Whatever. Just tell me."
"You despise the Brotherhood. I despise the Brotherhood," Megatron leaned forward. "A good match, don't you think?"
Mikaela tilted her head to the side. "Yeah," she said hesitantly. "But I don't see how–"
"Hush, femme, and listen," with one talon, Megatron patted the grass next to him.
Reluctantly, Mikaela came over and sat, keeping the data pad away from Megatron. He turned his body to stare down at her, a nasty smile toying at the corners of his lips. Mikaela could feel his optics roaming over her frame, a feeling of insecurity suddenly becoming much more prominent.
"Fisher is far more dangerous than we could ever imagine," Megatron continued. "Stealing our weaponry, stealing my soldiers from right out from under me…."
"Whose fault is that?" Mikaela murmured.
"Barricade disappeared before the Mission City battle. Before your puny little human mate shoved the Allspark into my chassis," Megatron's hand crept up to his spark, lingering their for a moment before dropping back down to his side. "The insufferable little fool abandoned the Decepticons and is hiding behind the Brotherhood, sucking away at their resources like a leech."
"With good reason."
Megatron didn't lash out, didn't reply to her accusation. His optics flickered down for a moment before he leaned back and sighed.
"For a wrong reason. He and Fisher have made an enemy of the Autobots and Decepticon's alike, both crimes punishable by death."
"Then kill him!" Mikaela exclaimed. "Nothing is stopping you."
"Barricade dead makes no difference. It will not faze me. But Fisher? Pah! The little fleshbag will suffer far worse than Barricade," Megatron jerked his chin towards the data pad under Mikaela leg. "The download tech will be his downfall."
"What…." Mikaela began.
"I plan on turning him into the one thing he despises most," Megatron raised a talon. "With a few modifications, of course. Turn him into the very monster he pictures us to be."
"You are."
"I'm just doing what has to be done," Megatron replied bitterly. Then, softly, "we all are."
"So you want to turn him into one of us? And worse, you said?"
"We have several defective protoform's that we have yet to put to good use."
"Lovely," Mikaela murmured.
"I'm simply using his beliefs against him. The way he separates the two species – humans and Cybertronians's – does not deter me from any of my task. They are words uttered from the mouth of a tiny, insignificant little ball of flesh, and therefore they are inconsequential."
"If their so inconsequential, then how come you're listening to them?" Mikaela challenged, gripping the data pad tightly. "How come they've triggered some emotional response from you?"
"It isn't his words. It's his actions," Megatron braced his hand on either side of Mikaela and leaned down, blowing hot puffs of air against her cheek. Like Optimus, his warmth seemed to swallow her whole. She found her joints relaxing, the tension having been eased by a simple gesture from a creature who, most definitely, wasn't capable of feeling love at all.
"Barricade joined them at his own will. To hide from you, it seemed," Mikaela said. "They protected him, and got some fancy new tech."
Megatron pulled away, and Mikaela was a little disappointed at the distance. His talons went to stroke her back, in between her door wings, sending little jolts of pleasure down her frame.
"We have yet to capture the human, and I need your cooperation for this to work."
"Why me?"
Mikaela already knew the answer. In no form would capturing Fisher go unnoticed, and when it came to a battle, Megatron and Starscream had it covered. No doubt the Autobots would be sent in, no doubt Optimus would be sent in, and no doubt Optimus wouldn't hurt Mikaela.
Even if she had Caine Fisher writhing around and screaming in her hand, under no circumstance would Optimus fire a shot or attack her.
Megatron was going to use Optimus' past attractions against him, and Mikaela was his weapon of choice.
"What if I don't want to take part in this?"
"You will," Megatron smirked, and reached for the data pad.
Mikaela jerked it away, scrambling across the grass, away from Megatron's prying talons. She said, "I thought that there was no trust in this agreement," she bared her teeth. "You said it yourself."
"I was bluffing."
"No, you weren't," Mikaela snapped. "You don't bluff."
"You know me all to well. Has Roadrunner been informing you of our past encounters?"
Mikaela didn't know whether to shake her head, or nod. True, she had seen some of the Decepticon's memories, processor-scarring images of Roadrunner and Megatron doing things Mikaela would have never thought Cybertronians capable of doing, but never once had those memories portrayed Megatron as trustworthy.
So, instead, she asked the con' herself.
What do you think?
He does not go back on his word.
Slowly Mikaela held up the data pad.
"And my father?" she said testily. "You'll get him back to me safely?"
"He'll get to you," Megatron nodded. "We have to make it look like nothing peculiar happened, don't we?"
"I suppose."
"Good femme," in one swift motion, he had taken the data pad and tucked it under his armor, going back to lean against the rocks.
Mikaela got to her feet, watching the mech as he seemed to go rigid. His armor was so scratched and dirty and dulled, covered in so much dirt and swirling, tattoos that, in the darkness, he seemed to blend in with the rocks.
"You need a wash," Mikaela murmured.
"Be my guest," he replied, and Mikaela jumped. She hadn't thought he had been listening, at the seductive undertone in his words caused a shiver to run down her frame.
Roadrunners memories flashed in her mind again, these far less pleasant. She could practically feel her lust seeping through, and Mikaela had to shove the thoughts into the very back of her processors.
"Me and you?" she scoffed back at Megatron, who was still lounging against the rocks. "In your dreams."
And then she transformed, tires squealing through dirt, hurtling away at speeds not even a rocket could match.