A/N: I cannot thank everyone enough for their reviews and their opinions. I am so very glad you enjoyed the last chapter. You know I do not own Transformers.
WARNINGS!: Mentions of abuse – verbal and sexual, as well as a slightly gory attempted suicide (it's not too bloody, I promise). Italics are the flashbacks.
Turning Point – Chapter 8
Soundwave stood in front of Prowl's office door, both wary and curious. The Praxian had offered to talk to him, saying he could understand, but could he really? Of course the comment bomb he had dropped yesterday as he had left the room indicated the truth of intention, but as to if it would help was another matter entirely.
He wondered if he should have even come at all. He had been perfectly fine with Blaster and all their cassettes, his friend showing him the comms room where he would be doing duty with Blaster on most days as part of his duty with the Autobots, and basically teaching him what was required. Both his cassettes and Blaster had then encouraged him to talk, even though he was hesitant.
Knowing it was better to enter rather than being seen by any of the more hostile Autobots, he pressed the door chime. The door cycled open, Prowl looking up from his many datapads to greet him with a barely perceivable smile.
"Good morning, Soundwave," Prowl said, placing his datapad to the side and clasping his hands in front of him, a posture of attentiveness that made Soundwave feel more at ease.
"Morning," he replied respectfully, moving forward and into the chair that Prowl indicated, holding out a USB-drive like device and placing it on the black and white's desk. "Data: Decepticon information. Knowledge: extensive but not complete," he supplied, his usual monotone through his mask.
Taking the device, Prowl nodded. "I give my thanks. This will give me a great amount of tactical data. Now, would you mind if I be completely frank with you during this meaning?"
"No."
"Good. Now, where would you like me to start?" Prowl asked.
Thinking for a moment and carefully retracting his mask, Soundwave replied, "What kind of abuse did you suffer, sir?"
The Praxian's optics turned knowing, and with a twitch of his doorwings, he replied, "You astound me with your directness, but that is part of your personality. In answer, it was mostly verbal, with some physical, and an attempted…violation. If you would like to hear it, I can describe the main parts of it and how I felt during that rather dark time – and also how I overcame it."
Recalling the inspired feeling from the day previous, the navy mech inclined his helm and said quietly, belying his eagerness, "If you could, please sir."
Optics sharpening under his striking crimson chevron, Prowl said with a faint note of determination, "Very well. You may stop me at any time if you feel at all uncomfortable."
Walking into the administration building, the young Praxian mech quietly came up to the receptionist's desk. Another mech was there, writing notes with a stylus on a datapad. He looked up, spotted the chevroned mech and saluted him.
"Hello sir. We have been expecting you. She's in the third room on the right on the left hallway."
Prowl nodded, handing over his security pass over. He would have a word to the head of admin. That the young Iaconian in front of him had not asked for it was a serious breach of protocol, situations being what they were, especially with the rebel force in Kaon. When his pass was handed back, he strode down the hall, being as quiet as his name until he came to the door. He pressed the chime and received a cheerful invitation to go inside.
Entering, he bowed in respect, not because the Autobot before him was higher ranked, but because she was a femme. Praxians had been taught to do so from the beginning of their upbringing when first meeting with a femme.
"You must be Prowl," the femme said cheerfully, extending a hand.
"I am. You are Cloudburst?" he inquired, politely shaking the slim hand before taking a seat, casting a cursory glance of the femme's frame. She was rather pretty, plating a soft teal and light grey. Not overt, but classical. She had a standard femme frame, and had a single, low crest on her helm – an Autobot symbol was displayed vividly on her chest.
"Yes I am! Now, what can I do for you, sir?" Cloudburst asked.
Clearing his intake, the mech asked, "I am looking for someone to help me with my transitional stage into being the Head of Tactical operations. It is the menial paperwork that I am overwhelmed with currently. It wouldn't be a long engagement. Only a few orns, just until the level of datapads is within reason. I was informed that you are efficient and discreet."
Cloudburst gave him a brilliant smile. "I'd love to sir."
"So innocuous was our meeting. She was so unlike what she revealed herself to be," mused Prowl, bringing two half-rationed cubes out of subspace, giving one to the visored mech opposite him.
Frowning behind his visor, the telepath asked, "How long did it take for you to realise she was not what she seemed?"
Giving a small, tight smile, the black and white mech said, "I will get there a little later Soundwave. To understand, you must first realise that I fell in love."
"Thank you for your services. You have been most helpful during this time," Prowl said, dutifully placing the last of the completed datapads inside his desk drawer. He looked up, expecting to see Cloudburst in front of him, but instead she had moved so she was standing by his side, so he had to crane his neck up to look into her teal optics.
"It was no problem at all for me, Prowl. I have enjoyed your company. It's a real shame I'm going to be stuck back in that little cubicle they call an office you found me in," the teal femme joked, eliciting a smile from the tactician.
"I have also enjoyed your company," he stated simply.
Cloudburst's optics brightened imperceptibly, and she laid a hand on his shoulder, making him tense. She didn't seem to notice as she asked, "I know you don't usually get to go out with your friends, but would you like to have a cube with me? Down at that little club? It's called 'Jolts' – it's pretty respectable, and I'm sure I've seen Ultra Magnus there trying to get Sentinel Prime to relax every now and then."
Prowl's face was neutral as he said, "I do not usually go to clubs. Besides it would not be befitting of an officer to go to a club when I could be running scenario's with my battle computer."
The Iaconian femme bit her lower lipplate, looking at him with soft optics and she pleaded, "Prowl…surely it is logical to relax every now and then? If you do not relax, you can't be in top form. Please? Just one cycle or two?"
"Why me?" he asked, hesitant.
He swore her optics sparkled like gems as she replied, "Because I like being around you. Because I want to know you better, to make you feel like you have someone here…"
Meeting her teal optics with his light blue ones, he carefully took her hand, knowing if he passed up the opportunity, he might never get it again. And…she had been very nice to talk to.
"Let's go then."
Reclining on his berth, Prowl shuttered his optics and thought of the night he had. He hadn't grinned so much since he had been a youngling back in Praxus. Cloudburst told the funniest jokes, made some odd faces that almost had him snorting his energon up his nose, and got him to dance. Of course, she had been actively flirting with him, complimenting his graceful doorwings, touching his arms and occasionally his chest, smiling at him, teasing him with a big grin on her face.
She had been so very kind and he had offered to walk her home. It had delighted her, and she hugged him before she went into her small apartment near base.
It warmed his spark to have someone attracted to him, and to think that possibly he was attracted in the same way.
Vowing to find out, Prowl sank into his recharge cycle with a small smile on his face.
"Of course, after that, we did go on a series of dates and got into a serious relationship. Eventually, she moved into my quarters on base and I opened my account to her, letting her have access to my credits. We were only a few steps before bonding, really. Through all this time, there had not been one indicator of ill-character within herself. I think the only time I had an inkling was when her brother Cloudstrike came to Iacon base," Prowl said, taking a moment to sip at his cube.
"Why is that name familiar to me?" Soundwave asked aloud.
Smiling a mirthless smile, Prowl answered, "Because he became a Decepticon after he broke out of an Autobot garrison for his crime against me."
Hearing his doors cycle open, Prowl looked up from his latest datapad tracking the Decepticon's movements in the past ten orns and found Cloudburst, smiling her dazzling smile at him, dragging a mech behind her.
"Hey honey, look who got transferred! My brother, Cloudstrike!" she gushed excitedly, going around to peck Prowl on his helm.
Prowl regaled her with a dead look, knowing he had tried to imprint on her that her preferred displays of affection to be in their quarters, before he looked to the other mech, extending his hand.
"How do you do? Cloudburst has told me a lot about you."
Cloudstrike smirked, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly. He was slightly bigger than Prowl, more blocky, obviously a frontline warrior with no design for any type of finesse. Like his sister, he was grey, but his shade was darker and covered his frame more. The only other colour her bore was a deep blue on certain parts of plating. "Yeah, good. Glad to be here and not Kaon, those rebels are something." Prowl kept from flinching at the voice. It was very gravelly, very deep, and in such contrast to his fairer sibling.
"It's good to see our warrior's perseverance serving them," Prowl stated.
Later that night, after a bout of interfacing, Cloudburst snuggled up to her lover and whispered, "Hey Prowl? I was wondering if I could go out and get something for my brother to welcome him home."
The black and white frowned, tilting his helm and asking, "I thought you already did that."
"Oh, but that nice young divisionary tactician in your command, Smokescreen? He wasn't feeling too good the other daily cycle so I gave the energon goodies to him. You don't mind, do you?" she asked innocently, teal optics batting up at him, but Prowl's frown only deepened.
"You have too often given gifts to others, Cloudburst," he reprimanded softly.
The mostly teal femme let out an uncharacteristic sigh of frustration and muttered, "Well, if you want to be such a tight-aft drone…"
Prowl shoved her back from him, looking at his lover in shock. Not once since they had met had she ever said anything as nasty as that to him, even when she was teasing. Looking into her optics, he saw something cold and hard in them. He looked her dead in the optic and said dangerously quiet, "Please recharge on the couch tonight."
"You. You were mean to me," she shot back.
Prowl shuttered his optics rapidly. Surely she couldn't mean that, it was his quarters! A shove by her foot to his thigh indicated that she did. Sighing in frustration, he got up, casting her a look in confusion. Usually they talked through whatever was bothering them. This behaviour was strange. She smirked at him, but it was different from her usual smirks. Prowl couldn't seem to pinpoint it, and he shook his doorwings before settling himself with the idea of recharging on the uncomfortable couch.
"You were a gentlemech even back then," Soundwave observed. His posture was now fully relaxed as he listened to the riveting tale.
"Indeed. Jazz says it's one of my…more remarkable features," Prowl acknowledged with a secretive smile. "Are you faring well so far?"
"I am. What happened next?"
"Well, it was more along that same thing, only the situation got worse. She began to whine and complain to me, saying that her job sucked, that the war sucked, that it was unfair I restricted her access to my account, that I should use my position to promote her brother. She began to use more verbally abusive language. At first, I ignored it. But with prolonged abuse…well…some of it stuck for a long time. Her favourite insult was to call me a sparkless drone who could have been better used as a pleasure mech," Prowl said, tone calm, even though Soundwave flinched. "Cloudburst was also one for public humiliation, I discovered. Sometimes she would trip me when I would have a large stack of datapads and call it a joke. Other times she called me 'loser,' 'tight-aft,' and 'drone' in public and around my superiors. Some thought it was natural for us, since I never indicated anything, although I bowed under the insults inside. I began to believe her words."
Soundwave's optics were wide under his visor. Dear Primus had the mech in front of him been through an ordeal!
Prowl continued, "And in my believing her words, my job performance slipped a little. It gave her new ammunition. She criticised my work, saying it was my fault for whatever mech that died on the missions I planned, calling my battle computer a 'rusted out piece of scrap.' Cloudburst was particularly fond of calling out deficiencies in my appearance, saying I was plain and ugly, that I was dull, and if not for her, others would not notice me."
"Why did you stay with her?" Soundwave asked suddenly, wondering if he had said the right thing. Through his listening, it was the one question that had burned in his processor.
Canting his helm to the side, optics taking on a melancholy cast, the SIC replied quietly, "I had loved her. She was my first true love. You must understand that. It was the reason why I did stay so long. I was blind to her, and a lot she had kept hidden from me. And I think, deep down, I wanted to believe that the characteristics Cloudburst exhibited later in our relationship was a result of some personality glitch or similar explanation. It wasn't until I heard something from Cloudstrike that I changed my mind. This was just after I decided to halt Cloudburst's access to my funds."
Rubbing the corners of his helm tiredly, Prowl entered the washrack, quickly washing and polishing as fast as he could before most of the next shift came in. He cursed softly as he realised he was too late, a small group of mechs coming in, so he stayed in his stall and prepared to wait them out. He didn't want anyone to see him.
"Oy Strike, that was one heck of a training session," a mech called out.
A deep, gravelly voice chuckled, "Yeah, but the look on Iron-afts face when I pinned 'im!"
Prowl felt something cold run down his spinal strut as the mechs laughed. That voice was so recognisable. It was the voice of Cloudstrike.
"Hey, heard some gossip around the ship – you guys know I'm new here, but is it your sister who's shacked up with the head of tactical, Strike? I heard he's like her little bitch," another mech said, clear over the noise of the showerheads.
Prowl stiffened upon hearing that. Is that…that what the whole crew thought of him? Maybe Cloudburst was right, that he was an ugly, no good excuse for a commander if his subordinates couldn't even respect him.
"Oh yeah, Cloudburst's with Prowl, snookered him good. She just did it so classic! Mech walks into her office, asks her to help him out, and she agreed. She then researches, finds out the creds he makes as head of tact's, and goes the really nice so he'd like her. You know, she told me it was so hard being so sweet for so long? She told me if it wasn't for how good the tight-aft is in the berth, she'd have left him a long time ago. She dated him and moved in with him, and he gave her access to his account. Bingo!" laughed Cloudstrike loudly among the chuckles from the other mechs.
"Good in the berth, huh?" questioned another voice.
Cloudstrike made a grunt-like sound and replied, "So she says. She may be right. That aft might be so tight his valve'll follow and be nice and ripe for poundin', eh fellas?"
More laughter.
Prowl saw his vision blurring, bringing a hand to his face and realising that tears had trickled out of his optics. Little by little, his spark was breaking. Slowly, he slid down to the floor, hunching over in grief.
Had he truly been used? No, Cloudburst had loved him, hadn't she? He loved her. Why?
As if hearing his unspoken question, a mech asked, "So your sister stayed with a mech, made him believe she loved him so she could get credits….and…what now?"
"Oh, she's tearing him apart. Cloud's really pissed now though, since he's cut her off from all his funds. She's being normal again. She's got a talent with the insults, she does. I think there's not one thing about him he's not targeted. But yeah, she's got some credits so she's happy. As for the Prowlie-bot? Pfft, I don't care. I wouldn't mind having her leftover's," guffawed the storm grey and blue mech.
Prowl shook inside his stall. No…he had been used. He had been played about like a toy and then thrown back into some box now his use had expired. His spark was shattered. He had truly been in love, thought that one day he would bond to Cloudburst, and when the war was over, live in a re-made Praxus with a sparkling or two. He thought that she was 'The One,' before she changed. More coolant tears slid out of his optics, and out of his mouth slipped a sob.
"Someone's in that stall!" a mech cried out.
Prowl sat up, clapping his hands over his mouth. Footsteps were heard, and he saw the pedes. Panic gripped his spark as the door was ripped off to reveal Cloudstrike, a menacing leer on his faceplate. He backed away, but a large hand grabbed him by his collar and jerked him out to pin him against the opposite wall.
"Lookie what we got here, it's the Prowlie-bot!" grinned Cloudstrike. Seeing his tears, a hand came up and mockingly caressed them. "Aw, little sparkling, didn't you know you were being used like a polish rag?"
"Let me go!" Prowl ground out, aiming a kick towards the mech's abdomen but missing as he jerked back.
"Ooh, got some fire! No, I don't think so. I think I'll have some fun with you," the larger mech murmured, tracing down his captive's faceplate. Prowl spat at him, getting him in the optic, which made him roar and press Prowl harder against the wall.
"Strike, what are you doing, mech? He's an officer!" one of the three mechs that came in with Cloudstrike cried out in alarm.
Cloudstrike glared at the other mechs and growled, "You were laughing about it not even a breem ago! I promise I'll let you have a turn once I'm done." Prowl struggled harder, hearing those words, but in vain, for he couldn't land a blow.
Another mech piped up, "There's a difference! I mean…those were just words before, and they don't hurt no-one. I'm leaving. And so are the other two. Let's go, mechs."
Prowl stared desperately after them, unable to make a sound now as Cloudstrike had a hand around his neck and squeezing. Prowl hoped that those mechs would find it in their conscious to find someone and tell them what was going on. A puff of air wafted across his face as the mech pinning him snarled, "Wimps. All for me then."
The tactician writhed again, arching to try and break the hold so he could escape, but Cloudstrike merely held him there, grinning as he said, "You know that's just turning me on more? Oh, how I can't wait to take you. Bet you've never been done in your valve before, probably too prim and proper – bet you've only used your spike. I'm going to love this."
Prowl's processor stuttered. How could he have guessed that? He had been saving his valve until bonding, be it mech or femme he bonded to.
Cloudstrike ran his free hand over Prowl's abdomen, tracing the red downwards arrow just above his panel.
"You know, my sister still says you're amazing in the berth. Let's see if it works for me, hmm?"
Prowl grunted and lashed out, getting the hand with his foot and denting it, causing the grey and blue mech to cry out in pain.
"Little piece of slag! Fine, we start earlier, then," snarled the mech, and retracted his panel, his spike jutting up into the air. Prowl stared at it in horror, realising that Cloudstrike was completely serious about this. He whined as he felt the length get rubbed against his thigh. With a new determination in his optics, Prowl kicked out again, a sigh of relief escaping as he found his mark, the spike kicked upwards and dented from his kick. Cloudstrike roared in pain, dropping Prowl in favour of clutching his dented rod, cupping it and howling as energon trickled from the dent. A red fury was in front of the Praxian's optics as he attacked on instinct, delivering punishing blows to the mechs helm and abdomen until satisfied the mech was unconscious. Energon was everywhere. Prowl coughed a little and ran from the washrack, not even looking back.
As he ran, more tears slipped out of his optics.
Betrayal.
He had been betrayed and broken by the one he had loved more than life itself, because he had thought that she would be the first one to care for him just as he was. To accept him with his faults. But she had played him.
What was the point of living anymore?
The Autobot cause didn't need him, his battle computer was obviously too old, and he kept sending mechs off to die.
He didn't know where he stopped, only that it was quiet, dark and there were no bots around. He couldn't even remember how he got here, only that he was here.
Out of his subspace he pulled a small, jewelled dagger, given to him as a gift by Cloudburst.
Looking at his reflection in the gleaming metal of the blade, Prowl couldn't say what he saw anymore. Only that it was not worth it. With trembling hands, he brought the dagger slashing through the energon lines in his arms, going brutally deep, biting his lips and tasting energon as he fought to keep from crying out. He brought the dagger up again, slashing across both shoulders before the grip on the dagger weakened and he dropped to the floor. Energon pooled around him and under his twitching sensory wings.
Sighing, he felt the life leave him.
Soundwave trembled slightly, making Prowl stop, realising that perhaps he had gotten too carried away with what happened. "Soundwave?" he asked cautiously.
The visored mech said softly, if not a bit brokenly, "Keep going. I need to hear this, no matter my emotional state."
"If you are sure…"
"Affirmative."
With a sigh, Prowl continued, "I laid on that floor for a few breems before a mech came in. He's dead now, but his name was Tracker, Hound's mentor and teacher. I had not known I was in the scout's division. He called for help, and Ratchet was the one to heal me physically. He was the one who encouraged me to talk to Sentinel, and Optimus who was Sentinel's protégée. I eventually did and they tried both Cloudburst and Cloudstrike for treason against an officer and locked them both up."
Soundwave took a moment to think. If Prowl had gone through seemingly worse than he had, then surely he could get better as well. After all, Prowl was, to all intents and purposes, a very well functioning mech, and had been one of the Decepticon's biggest targets because of the stability he brought to the Autobot army.
"Sir…why are you telling me all this? Four days ago, I was your enemy," Soundwave asked, slightly confused about that fact.
The chevroned mech smirked and asked, "Soundwave, have you ever known me, as you being a Decepticon, to be a mech of non-action, even though I have a 'desk job'?"
"Negative."
"And that is exactly why. I am not going to sit by while some mech is hurting in a way I can associate with, and needs to know that you can continue life after abuse. Regardless if you were my enemy, you have now pledged yourself to be an Autobot and a comrade, a colleague. I do all I can for those under my command. If I can help you, then so be it. I will open up about my past, as long as I see it operating within you to drive towards healing," Prowl answered, voice intense.
"It's not an easy journey, but with the right support, time flies by. Jazz was the one to heal me. It did not take a few days, weeks, or moths, but vorns. I hope it won't take that long for you to recover. It would be such a shame," the tactician continued, softening his tone.
Soundwave felt the sensation of being inspired again, and suddenly, he was very glad he changed faction. All those years of being a Decepticon were being washed away. The process was becoming almost alarmingly quick. He had more questions, but Prowl had given him so much time already. Standing up, he said gratefully, "Thank you sir. I am very glad you shared this with me."
"But you have more questions," Prowl suggested shrewdly.
"I do, but you have your duties and I have mine. And I would like some time to think," the standing mech replied in answer to the unspoken question.
The SIC bowed his chevron helm. "Of course. You know, it is such a pity you were not always an Autobot, Soundwave. Tactically, you are a great addition to our ranks. Upon impression, I find you to be an adaptable mech who tries to stay calm in any situation. That steadiness within me that your previous faction sought to extinguish I can see in you," he remarked carefully.
Soundwave felt the compliment warm his spark. Someone whom he had been fighting against for so long giving him this second chance so readily made him want to prove him right and make Blaster proud.
He left, closing up his mask to hide the small smile on his face.
Prowl watched him as he left. 'I do not think of you as a Decepticon anymore. I hope you overcome your demons, like I have overcome mine.'
Starscream entered the science lab where he had worked with Skyfire in the past day, grumbling to himself. The shuttle looked at the ex-Con jet, and blinked his optic shutters and asked, "Starscream…your wings…"
"Yes, I have gotten rid of that ghastly purple insignia, it will no longer mar my paintjob, now let's get to work!" the Seeker snapped. He really didn't want to talk about it. He felt like a sparkling, going from content in one second to angry the next with temper tantrums. He winced as he caught Skyfire's wise gaze on him, and damn it if he didn't melt under that look. Sighing, Starscream crossed his arms over his cockpit and turned away, wings twitching.
"Starscream," Skyfire said softly, putting down the tools for the circuit board he was working on.
"Mmm?"
"You didn't tell me a lot yesterday," the larger mech said softly, wheeling his chair over to where Starscream stood, so that he was a little shorter than the defensive jet.
"I told you when it first happened," answered Starscream defiantly.
"Last night you had a bad night terror and I had to hold you for an hour to get you to go back into recharge. Don't tell me that's nothing, Star. You were trembling and whimpering, and-"
"Stop!" Starscream shrieked, whirling around to face his friend. "I don't need you pointing out how weak I am, when I'm trying to be strong!"
Gentle, larger hands gripped his upper arms and Skyfire's firm voice said, "You don't need to anymore. Primus, Star, I'm here to help! And that's not the way to heal. I know you are used to be neglected by everyone but your trine, but I'm here and I'm not leaving."
"You can't promise that! I lost you once, and I can't lose you again!" Starscream yelled, anguish taking over his face. Skyfire was silent, optics appearing older, much older than they were at the statement. Angry tears building up, Starscream said, "You know, in my darkest hours, I would wish that Megatron did kill me, just so I'd see you again because I knew I'd be safe. And in worse times, I would justify the fragger's actions towards me, thinking it was some sort of return for loosing you out in space!"
"There is no justification for such an act, Starscream," Skyfire growled, spark breaking. How could the smaller flier think that?
"I know, but I went through the Pit and back trying not to believe it. I feel pathetic and weak that I can't survive one day without a friend, you know that? I used to be ruler of the skies, and now I'm the ruler of 'come here and abuse me.' I hate losing the control, Skyfire," Starscream ranted, looking into his friend's lighter optics.
"You are not pathetic and weak! I will say it until you get sick and tired of me hearing it, you are not! You are a victim, and I know you might not like to hear it, but you are. You've been a victim for too long. I'm willing to stand here and take anything you throw at me because I care!" Skyfire replied back in determination. He honestly was dedicated to helping Starscream – he had lived content life as an Autobot so far, but sometimes he had nothing to do. With Starscream back in his life, he now had a fullness (however bitterly gained) he had not had since he had crashed eons ago on Earth.
Starscream couldn't help it.
He began sobbing again upon hearing that spark-felt declaration of care, leaning forward to cry into Skyfire's chest. It felt like the countless time he had done it, fitting so perfectly under Skyfire's chin as those arms wrapped around him to draw him close. He clung onto the broad shoulders desperately, blubbering out what his dream had been about.
Skyfire listened as Starscream told him of the time that Megatron had taken him brutally in both mouth, valve, and then aft with no preparation so that he couldn't fly or walk straight for a week. The tyrant had also then made Starscream drink the spill from his valve, a combination of energon and other fluid. Skyfire hugged the smaller frame tighter, feeling rage boil furiously within. Megatron would pay. And pay dearly for what he'd done to the tricoloured jet.
"Please don't hate me Sky, for being so….so…defiled and used," Starscream whispered exhaustedly when he was done.
"Never, Star, never," the shuttle whispered, rocking slightly back and forth, letting the tears ride out. Again, his spark ached for the mech straddling him.
It all seemed so unfair.
"I'll protect you for as long as I'm online, Star…I'm here….you are safe," he mumbled assumingly.
"I know you are," Starscream replied brokenly, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. There was still so many weights there, but slowly, they would finally come off.
Getting back to the comm. room, the telepath was confused and alarmed that his cassettes were missing. Blaster looked up and saw his body language and hurriedly said, "You're lil' guys have just gone with Jazz down to the sparring room. He said he's going to burn off their energy before they start pulling some pranks. Speaking of which, Jazz wanted me to ask you something."
"Oh?" Soundwave asked, sitting down in his chair near his friend and opening his mask.
"Yeah. He was wondering if they could be part of his special ops team. Says they'd be dead useful because of their size and intelligence," Blaster answered, before answering a comm. from Smokescreen, who was on patrol, that nothing was happening.
The telepath thought it over. It would give his creations more to do, and they had been basically the majority of the Decepticon's special ops while back on the Nemesis. In all technicality, he was special ops as well, but he much preferred the comms duty. Some may find it boring, but to him it was oddly soothing. It was why he was always so comfortable in his job. His reputation as a telepath more than actually torturing others – which he did little of – was what gave others the impression he was just as cruel as Megatron.
"Trial first. I'll see if they like it before anything else," he concluded.
"Awesome," grinned Blaster. Every time Soundwave made a decision, he felt glad. It showed he was having more certainty and control over himself. "So, how was the talk with Prowl?"
"Informative."
"Good?"
"Very inspiring. All my footage from the times my cassettes have infiltrated your bases never indicated that he inspires the mechs of your army in his own way," replied Soundwave, running his fingers idly over a keyboard. Blaster hummed, encouraging him to go on. "His story was…powerful to say the least," the visored mech mused, "and motivates me to be just as well adjusted as he is. I do have more questions, and he assures me we will talk tomorrow."
Blaster gave a brilliant, warm smile at Soundwave and said, "It's awesome you are trying so hard to get along and fit in here."
Another warm thrum settled over his spark, but he stayed silent in thought. He was trying hard, that much was true, but he still felt worthless and dirty. Granted, the sensation had lessened slightly, but it was still there. It was, in fact, what he had wanted to ask Prowl about. The navy mech was glad, at least, that he felt safe and at home with Blaster.
Ramjet was shaking in nervousness before him, while Hook remained deceptively calm. Megatron let out a growl. Two days had gone by, and his replacement 2nd and 3rd in command were standing in front of him like they were waiting for slaughter. Obviously this was news he didn't want to hear.
"Where are they?" he demanded.
"They are all with the Autobots, my lord. Reflector took some pictures of Soundwave on the top of their volcano with the Autobot communications officer, Blaster. As we have no other information on the Seeker trine, we assume they are there also," Hook replied calmly, although his stance indicated that he was ready to sprint from the room at the first instance of violence.
Megatron's optics narrowed. Growling deeply, he said, "Get out. Tomorrow night we attack – spread the word."
The flier and Constructicon left swiftly, and not a moment too soon. With a bellowing roar, Megatron punched a hole in the nearest wall before shooting at everything he could. His throne split and crumbled, chairs went flying, a computer console had a smoking hole in it, all the while he bellowed his rage.
"TRAITORS! I should rip your sparks out of your warm bodies and eat them whole! I'll wear your wings like jewellery, I'll keep your helms to pleasure me when you're dead, and I'll let your Autobot friends join you!" he ranted, discharging round after round from his fusion cannon in a deadly promise.
"And I'll start with Starscream," he vowed.
A/N: Writing an insane Megatron is oddly fun.
MY LIVEJOURNAL IS NOT WORKING! *heddesk* It sucks, so I can't post this on there yet.
But I'd love reviews from everyone here! Just a reminder that this fic will be updated every week between Saturday and Monday from now on due to me going back to uni.