Chapter 1

Somewhere in the Nevada desert

The Decepticon Seeker struggled frantically, but between his shredded legs and the vise-grip on his arms, he was helpless against the Autobot currently pinning him to the ground. Scarlet plating scraped against his throat as long, slender fingers pressed into the cables at his shoulders and yanked one free with lethal precision. With one final spastic jerk, his body went limp.

"Don't worry," a deceptively soft voice whispered against his audio. "The paralysis is temporary and I left you all your nerve endings. No loss of feeling."

The Seeker found he wasn't too proud to beg a little, even when this femme's reputation told him it would do no good. "Please…you don't need to kill me, I swear, I'll -"

"Shhh." The femme traced one fingertip down his cheek, gentle with just a slight sting as she touched a cut. The purple designs painted onto her white face gave her an alien, sinister look that completely overrode her natural beauty. "Shh, sweetheart. Just one thing I want. Then you'll never see me again."

"Wh-what?" The Seeker's optics widened with desperate hope. "You'll let me go?" It couldn't be that easy. It couldn't. But…

The femme's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Of course." She lifted that fingertip again, this time tracing down his jaw. "Although…" Before the Seeker could move, or even blink, a thin line of blazing pain sliced along his throat. Suddenly, neither his vocalizer nor his neck cables would function, and a warm gush of energon from his main lines flooded over his throat and chest. "You'll notice I didn't specify where you were going."

The last thing he saw, as his optics slowly faded to gray with the rest of his body, was the femme licking his energon off the stiletto on her fingertip and smiling.

"Riella!" The tactician yelled her name harshly, probably not the first time if his tone was any judge. "What the slag are you waiting for? 'Cons called a retreat, and everyone left here is offline or one of us. So get your aft moving. That's an order!"

The femme took her time obeying, cleaning her fingertip with her glossa before rising to saunter leisurely past the commander of this particular unit. "Oh, I'm sure you wish I would obey your every command, don't you, Prowl?" she purred, making sure to almost brush her hip against his. "You're going to have to make them a little more inviting before I do that."

Prowl rolled his optics with a glare in her direction. Unlike most mechs, he seemed to be all but immune to Riella's attempts to charm him. Speculation in the ranks ranged from Prowl simply not finding her attractive (the popular opinion), to someone's suggestion that the hostility was an act and the duo were already sharing a berth at every possible opportunity. Neither Riella nor Prowl had voiced an opinion on the subject, and had refused to confirm any of the rumors. "Just move out now, before I cut your transform module and leave you to walk back to base," the mech snapped, turning his back and walking away.

"Awww…" Riella faked a hurt pout, which due to the face paint and energon streaks was nothing even close to effective. "You wouldn't really, would you?"

"Do not tempt me, femme. Do not tempt me."

Riella's Quarters, Optimus Prime's Headquarters, New Iacon (Autobot base)

Colorful limbs detangled slowly as the femme pulled herself free from the dark mech's embrace, humming in satisfaction as she settled back against the sheets. The mech stroked her jaw before kissing her possessively, rasping in her audio, "You are so fragging gorgeous right now…"

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Mirage," Riella purred, tracing one fingertip down the back of his neck teasingly. "You know I've got an official meeting in an hour, and I can't show up covered in your paint. Or, for that matter…" She gestured to the remaining hints of purple on her face. "This. You know Prowl demands regulation looks on base."

Mirage pouted. It made him look cute. "Why not? Come on, don't tell me you're scared of him…" His tone sharpened and the cuteness disappeared. "Is it Jazz and his twin? Are they going to be there?"

"Aww, is someone jealous?" Riella teased, pushing him away gently but firmly. "Maybe they'll be there, maybe they won't. Either way, strictly business."

"Nothing with you is ever just business," Mirage growled. "Especially not when those two are in the room. And when it's not them, it's someone else."

Riella sighed and flipped gracefully off the bed, affording Mirage a very nice view of her frame as she did. "I don't want to go over this again right now. I'll be in the washracks."

"Wait, baby." Mirage followed her. "I didn't mean it, you know that. You're…special, that's all. The psycho twins – you're too good for them. They don't deserve you."

The femme smiled and blew him a kiss. "You're sweet. I'll catch you after the meeting, okay?" A quick wave, and then she was gone.

Precisely forty-five minutes later, free of any remaining non-regulation paint and with her scarlet armor polished to a high gleam, Riella glided through the door to the small atrium that adjoined the throne room. To her surprise, despite the length of time until the scheduled meeting, she was not alone. Optimus Prime stood at the head of the table, his back to the door. Even though she had entered quietly, the femme knew that he was fully aware of her presence, and not particularly pleased.

"My lord." She dropped to her knees quickly and slightly less than gracefully, attempting to cover her own unpleasant shock. Riella was accustomed to arriving well before anyone else; it gave her a certain psychological edge to be sitting and waiting, unsummoned, when her superiors entered. Prime's presence could only mean that this meeting was not routine. "I apologize for intruding. I was not aware that you were using this room." Having remained on the ground for the requisite amount of time, she rose and backed away, optics lowered in respect. "I shall return at a later time, when –"

"No." Optimus Prime's deep voice rumbled from where he still stood with his back to her. "You will remain."

Riella froze in her tracks, processor racing. "As you wish, my lord."

He turned slowly to face her, dark red optics burning into her lighter ones. "I know you. One of Jazz's scouts, under Prowl's command, yes? The former organic."

"Yes, my lord," she murmured, lowering her gaze. Prime was not a mech to cross, no matter whether his bodyguards were close or not. Especially when he seemed to have taken an unusual interest in her.

Prime nodded slowly, voice slightly muted by the faceplate. "Scout commander. You have a relationship in the ranks, yet seem to have no difficulty with the occasional trip to the medical center and my third-in-command's quarters. Perhaps your young spy is not quite satisfactory for someone with your…ambition?"

Damn you, Ratchet. I swear, I'll make sure he doesn't get anyone, mech or femme, for a month. 'Discreet' my aft. Riella's face remained as impassive as she could manage. "You have excellent informers, my lord."

"I do." Prime studied her for a long moment, looking her up and down with none of the intrigue she was accustomed to drawing. "Why did you come here?"

Fear caused her spark to pulse a touch faster. One wrong word now and things would go very badly. "I have a briefing here, my lord. With –"

"I know the meeting schedule." Prime's optics narrowed dangerously. "You are far too early for this to be simple punctuality, but not enough for a pre-briefing…liaison. Are you here to unsettle my third-in-command, perhaps?"

Riella somehow kept from trembling. "Yes, my lord. Arriving first tends to move one further ahead in any possible battle of processors."

Prime nodded slowly. "Indeed it does." He took a step closer. "Look at me, femme."

She raised her head and met his optics, determined to convey no emotions other than respect.

"Intelligent enough to obey," Prime commented, optics narrowed in thought. "A rare quality in most of my followers." He turned away abruptly and stalked toward the door. "Sit. Your commander will arrive momentarily. I see no reason for you to lose your advantage."

Confused but relieved, the femme obeyed.