Author's Note:
Oh my gosh, you guys are going to ENJOY this chapter. :D I've been waiting for this chapter for so long!
She was getting dragged. She could feel her heels skidding across the floor, and a hand had her by her wrists. No, by the stasis cuffs locked around her wrists. Twisting uncomfortably, Nightstalker's reaction was a bit slow as her aching processor slowly caught up to the situation.
Ratchet!
Jolting wildly and trying to sit up, Nightstalker's optics flashed open to see the eerie and familiar halls of the NEMESIS flickering above. Realizing in horror that she had been taken prisoner, Nightstalker opened her mouth wide and SCREAMED.
Whoever was holding her yelped. Nightstalker jerked and thrashed, twisting and yanking to get away from the clawed hands holding her prisoner. Her wings strained for freedom against the clamp on them, and through her delusional screaming, she heard someone swearing almost fluently, half trying to restrain her and half trying to avoid her flailing limbs.
"Fraggit, Nightstalker! Stop that! Stop it!" He gave her a rough shake, nearly rattling her processor out of her helm. "Stop it right now! You want them to put someone on you that won't be as nice as me?"
Her hammering spark slowed from its fear as she realized who was fighting her. Her head looked up, getting an upside-down view of his red chassis, and relief poured through her.
"Knockout!"
He, on the other hand, didn't seem too excited to see her. His lips pressed and his optics hardened up. He muttered under his breath again as he helped her to her peds and forced her in front of him. Nightstalker stumbled at the force.
Her initial excitement was doused with a bucket of cold water. Arms wrested uncomfortably behind her by the cuffs, Nightstalker realized for good that, yes, she was CUFFED, and Knockout was escorting her down the halls to the prison cells. Against her will, she was hurt, and unthinkingly, she exploded, "What are you DOING?"
"What does it look like?" Knockout replied in a clipped tone as he forced her along.
Nightstalker jammed her heels into the floor, trying her best to refuse to go any further, but Knockout just shoved harder. They fought each other down the hall. "Let me go! You idiot! I'm your sister! Are you REALLY going to put me in the brig?"
Knockout pushed her hard, sending her careening forward and stumbling. "Of course I am," he said tightly. "Megatron gave you to me for a reason, after all."
Nightstalker gritted her dentures, yanking against him. She flexed her wings, trying to clip his chin, but the clamp restricted almost all movement. "Yeah? What for?"
"What do you think!" he snapped, already at wits end with it. "He's testing me, Nightstalker! He's waiting to see if I'll betray him!"
Nightstalker stopped abruptly in the hall, making him run right into her. "Yeah? So why not betray him? I AM your sister."
His engine revved angrily. Knockout shoved her forward again, barking, "Either walk right or I WILL drag you."
Unwillingly, Nightstalker made his job easier, but that didn't mean she wasn't tempted to just throw herself down and let him drag her. "And why not betray him?" she pressed again when he refused to answer. The hall to the brig showed up, and she knew she was running out of time to change his mind. "You could become an Autobot! You KNOW we'd welcome you!"
"Don't even pretend," Knockout snapped. "I'm a 'Con! My kind isn't welcome among yours."
"Dreadwing's one of us now," Nightstalker said, pushing against him a little bit as they entered the elevator that would take them to the lower levels of the NEMESIS. "You ARE welcome, Knockout, you could do it, I know you could."
He grunted, avoiding her gaze. Nightstalker waited impatiently for him to respond, and he finally flicked his red optics back to her and then to the floor.
"Paint job looks good."
Nightstalker blinked, and then, she looked away and at the floor too, not knowing what to say about the unexpected compliment. "Thanks," she finally said quietly. "But you didn't answer me."
"There's nothing to answer."
The doors whizzed open, and Nightstalker let him lead her out. "Yes, there is. Why won't you become an Autobot?"
"Look, stop clinging to false hopes," Knockout muttered. "I'm not changing anytime soon, so stop trying to make me. I'm a Decepticon, Nightstalker. I've got enough problems to deal with without making them worse."
Nightstalker stumbled as he pushed her inside one of the cells. She whirled around to face him, pulling her wrists against the cuffs. "Yeah? Like what?"
"Like—" Knockout swore angrily, glaring at her again. "Nightstalker, I've been insulted, scratched up, stepped on, my best friend died and no one cared or even really noticed, I've been beat up by the Autobots more times than I know, I've been manipulated, and chased by vampire zombies! Any power I held as the ship's medic is gone, I report to Shockwave now, ALL my projects have been stripped of me and given to him, I am at the BOTTOM of the Decepticon food chain, Nights, and if I screw up one more time, that's it for me!"
Nightstalker's jaw popped open. "Knockout, that's all the reasons you SHOULD be coming to join the Autobots! I think you'd be really surprised when you realize that the Autobots actually CARE about each other!"
Knockout gave one flat, bitter laugh. "Ha! And get disposed of by Megatron? I don't think so, Nightstalker! There's no way off this ship, not when everything's monitored by Soundwave—" and he broke off with a slightly hysterical laugh. "Primus, what am I even saying, you DO know he's heard everything in this conversation and seen everything and no doubt he's going to report it right back to Megatron!"
He swore under his breath, giving an infuriated gesture. "I've said too much. I can't—I'm leaving, Nightstalker, so don't pin your hopes on me."
Fear slashed into her. He really meant that, didn't he? Letting her emotions batter at the wall he had erected between their sparks, Nightstalker cried out, "Knockout, wait! You're my brother, I'm your sister, you can't do this! You can't just leave me here!"
"I have to!" he snapped, red optics flashing. "I've got my own finish to look after!"
She bolted forward when he walked away, but the door to her cell whizzed shut before she could make it out. Her shoulder collided with the door trapping her inside as she shouted. "Knockout! Knockout, you can't leave me here! You KNOW what he did to me, Knockout, please! Please, you can't do this to me! Please! Please!"
Nightstalker rammed her shoulders against the door, banging and kicking to get his attention. Even if she had it, he chose to ignore her.
"Knockout! KNOCKOUT!"
Trying to outwit the one whom you had been fighting against for millennia was no easy feat. In fact, it was impossible.
Megatron was playing all the right cards. Both manipulative and threatening. Ratchet was quick to be enlightened to the fact that Megatron WAS trying to rebuild the Omega Lock, and he needed the Synthetic energon formula as a vital component to do so. And, to be honest, Ratchet had expected Megatron's first two moves, blackmailing him with the children and the location of the Autobot base. Even so, he had found it harder to dismiss the children as unimportant than he had originally thought.
And then, with a bipolar switch, all of the sudden Ratchet was allowed to walk free, no cuffs, fully armed, and Megatron basically waltzed him through a full tour of the NEMESIS, showing him their molecular masking field, their energon transfusion capacitor, and other such nuances.
He played upon Ratchet's own feelings on the matter. He let him gaze upon the remains of Cybertron again, dead, dark, and Ratchet hated that his persuasion was working. He hated that he could feel every little chink in his armor getting chiseled away by that silver tongue and that no matter what witty, smart, or painfully obvious replies Ratchet could combat Megatron with, Megatron was already aware of what he would say, and Ratchet was already aware that Megatron was aware. And when he pulled the blunt truth that he would try to conquer Cybertron again, that he may terminate Ratchet regardless, it was uncanny to hear, a twisted web of deception made indecipherable with snippets of truth.
Megatron was simply TOO good. He presented Ratchet with great temptation, giving him free access to the Decepticon laboratory. All the tools Ratchet had been needing, fast computers included, all at his fingertips . . . It was terribly hard to resist. He hadn't had a proper area to work in for years. Everything he had ever needed, it was right there. And he was breaking under the weight of the pressure, the temptation, the selfish need to see Cybertron restored once again, and he knew Megatron knew exactly what he was doing and how it would affect him.
Optimus, my old friend . . . help me, please.
It was odd how the dead comforted him and strengthened him. He clung to Optimus' remembrance, knowing how he could never betray him, even with the devil breathing down his neck. He didn't know what else the warlord could do to him, tempt him with, bribe him with, or threaten him with. There couldn't possibly be anything left, and Ratchet steeled himself with that thought, refusing to give into Megatron.
One thing that also lifted Ratchet's spirits the tiniest bit was Megatron's demeanor. After successfully telling him, in Miko's choice words, to "stow it", Megatron was beginning to show some thinning patience. Clearly the warlord didn't have all the time of the world and was impatient to get a move on. Ratchet, on the other hand, was stalling to give the Autobots time to rescue him, if that was possible.
Staring passively at Megatron, he watched those red optics narrow at him. Megatron paced to the side, clasping his servos behind his back as he kept his gaze on Ratchet, prowling around him in the Decepticon laboratory. "You are testing my patience, my dear Ratchet, and I must say, I do not appreciate it. I have shown you every courtesy."
"And every threat," Ratchet reminded him flatly.
Megatron flashed a shark-like grin his way. "Oh no, not EVERY threat. I was keeping one to myself in the hopes that I would not have to use it on you—" Ratchet scoffed loudly in contempt of that. "But I see you have left me no choice."
Ratchet shifted, watching Megatron walk idly towards the nearest computer. He flicked through files with maddening ease, and unconsciously, Ratchet found his peds scooting him closer, trying to see what he was pulling up.
Megatron stepped back, sweeping a servo to the screen. "Take a look, good doctor. Is there anything here that might possibly influence your decision to cooperate?"
Ratchet froze, every vent snapping shut on his body and vocalizer fusing as he saw the ONLY thing, the only femme crouched on the floor, back pressed against the wall, orange optics darting around the room. He hadn't known they had Nightstalker. He hadn't known. And she had clearly been here as long as he had, only in solitude the whole time. Her wings twitched in their clamps, and she jumped periodically at every little sound echoing and groaning through the ship.
He didn't know what to say to this. Spark hammering in his chassis, Ratchet hid the aghast look that had painted his face a moment ago, taking a deep breath. "I—"
"She's rather precious, is she not?" Megatron interrupted casually. Ratchet couldn't move his optics from the live feed, a consuming, foreboding dark creeping up on his consciousness. "It was almost comical how eagerly she tried to protect you. You must have a very sweet relationship with her for her to so readily claim you as her father."
Ratchet's throat swallowed tightly, sickening apprehension gripping him. Megatron knew. He had known all along he had the coup de grace to ultimately make Ratchet break and had simply held it back, toying with him the whole time. Ratchet's lips trembled before his jaw gnashed tightly.
"Then you already know if you hurt her I won't provide you with anything you want."
Megatron gave a chuckle, the sound slithering over his audio receptor. "And you know that if you do not comply to my wishes, I will gladly do whatever I like with her."
Ratchet whirled, temper sparking fast like dynamite before he could stop it. "You can keep your filthy, energon-stained servos away from her!" he snarled, optics blazing like supernovas in his agitation. "If you lay one hand on her, I promise you I will personally amputate your glossia, hands, and spike."
His anger merely made the warlord chuckle and tut his glossia sadly. "I'm very sorry, Ratchet," he said. Ratchet twitched when Megatron gave a lurid grin. "It must have been quite the mess for you to clean up. I'm actually quite surprised she survived. Your medical skills are apt as ever."
He was THIS close to attacking him despite what transgressions it might land upon him. His servos twitched, and his fingers clenched. His energon tanks twisted in remembrance, and his spark pulsed wildly, aggressive and protective. Stifling rage scorched through his systems, almost blocking every coherent thought from his processor except to hurt him as much as possible and draw as much energon as possible.
Worse, he knew he couldn't barter for her freedom. She was the blackmail. And even if Megatron gave his word, he knew he couldn't trust the word of a Decepticon. There was no way to guarantee her safety whether he did or did not agree to Megatron's stipulations.
Just to drive the nail in the coffin, Megatron spoke again. "I would advise taking me up on my offer, dearest Ratchet. I may just take it upon myself as a personal challenge to do more damage than I did the last time. You wouldn't want your actions to condemn Nightstalker to endure yet another rape, would you?" Ratchet flinched against his will, terrified for her and how it would traumatize her. "Or perhaps, I would do worse than that. Perhaps I could truly convince her to come back to me and become my queen. I do believe that would hurt more than another rape."
Ratchet shook, fury and horror petrifying him where he stood. The image of Nightstalker gutted after the rape glazed in his mind's eye, a small touch of bile wanting to rise. Instead, he finally shifted his gaze away from the screen to look at Megatron, his cheek twitching as he fixed the warlord with a glare that could have cut right through him.
"She would NEVER go back to you," Ratchet hissed quietly. His pulse hammered in his neck, and his servos clenched so tightly they shook. "We have taught her better than that. I have taught her better than that." He let his blazing optics fix on Megatron's, glaring directly into the heart of his darkness as he snarled, "And I can PROMISE you beyond the shadow of a doubt that Nightstalker will never allow herself to be ruled by a sadistic monster such as yourself EVER again."
Megatron met his scowl with his own, neither mech backing down. "Are you absolutely sure, old friend?" His lip curled at the challenge Ratchet had unwittingly presented. "I have groomed her for this ever since she was a child. After all, a fitting savior of Cybertron must have a queen, should he not? The political propaganda would only further my status. And Nightstalker will be my toy, a tasty little tart for me to frag whenever I like."
Hot, infuriated energon flushed into Ratchet's cheeks. Before he could defend Nightstalker's honor again, Megatron cut him off, saying, "Now, give me your final answer, Ratchet. Your answer holds someone's suffering on the line."
Ratchet's jaw ground helplessly. He was caught. He knew he was caught. There was no way to . . . to even begin to tell Megatron no. Everything was accumulating in his processor, and he felt the weight of the world sinking onto his shoulders, indeed, the weight of Cybertron itself rested on him. He wanted to break beneath the weight of the load he carried. Closing his optics on the sight of Nightstalker trembling in the brig, Ratchet felt the words rip their way up his throat.
"I'll do it."
He glanced over to Megatron, hate consuming every circuit in his body as he looked into the face of pure evil. "But then, you already knew that, didn't you?" He had always known it. Even from the beginning when he had strung Ratchet along.
His answer was a revolting, macabre smirk.
For being so worried, Nightfall had kept himself together quite well. It helped that he could lean on the immovable rock of his father, strong and composed, but that was beyond the point. The point was that for the first time, Nightfall had acted the most mature in a dire situation that had ever acted. Even to the point that when the crisis arose of their base being discovered, a simple plan had tricked Starscream.
(Though, he honestly had to breathe a sigh of relief at that. He didn't know if Starscream would fall for it or if he had coordinates and WOULDN'T miss, so he had forced the Autobots to take cover in a different hangar just to be sure. And even then he was still a little paranoid the Decepticons would merely level the whole entire base, and he thanked Primus for Starscream's short-sightedness.)
Regardless of how things had been handled—including Nightfall not wanting to go outside and survey the damage; even the smell of the smoke was still making him a little sick. But in the end, Wheeljack and Raf of all people had teamed up to equip Laserbeak's chipped transponder with flight-worthy gear so it would lead them to the NEMESIS.
That night, as he left most of the group inside to watch Wheeljack and Raf work, he sent Ultra Magnus to the berth early, seeing how the mech was slowly running himself dry with work. Just to be sure, Nightfall peeked in the berth rooms to see Ultra Magnus collapsed on his berth, completely unconscious. His lips quirked for a moment before he shook his head and drew back.
Things were . . . quiet on base. He kinda enjoyed that. Crossing back outside, Nightfall walked over to his father standing at the far end of the base, and he glanced up at his father. Dreadwing glanced down, and his gaze softened.
"I was wondering when you would find me."
Nightfall nodded. "Yeah. It's . . . been a long day, y'know?"
Dreadwing gave a light chuckle. "That it has been." He glanced down at Nightfall. "How are you feeling?"
"Weak." His face twisted up. "A lot of pain. I'm sitting down, actually," and with his spontaneous decision, he sat his aft down on the ground, heaving a sigh and wincing when he felt the burns protesting at the movements. "You and Ultra Magnus did pretty good. Though I bet Ratchet'll pop rivets when he sees what you guys did."
Dreadwing's lips tipped up in amusement, and he kneeled down and sat with Nightfall, allowing him to lean against his side. "He would first crucify you for getting so damaged, and THEN he would curse Ultra Magnus and my handiwork."
"You're right about that," Nightfall said. "At least my armor is presentable again. Bulkhead's good at fixing stuff." His chest was wrapped tightly beneath his armor, as was most of his body. It restricted his movement only a tiny bit, and Nightfall was certain that Ratchet could have fixed him up so perfect he wouldn't have had that problem.
He vented softly. "Dad? We need to talk."
"I know."
Nightfall leaned his helm on his father's arm. "I'm . . . Well, I'm Prime. But, I'm also your son. And according to the Primes of old, I'm not supposed to have any bonds."
"I know," Dreadwing said again. He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the top of Nightfall's helm. "You've explained it all to me."
"Yeah, well . . ." A cool breeze washed through the area, and Nightflier sighed, tilting his helm into its gentle caress. "Things are changing. I'm changing."
Dreadwing's voice was soft. "You're growing up."
His lips tipped up. "Yeah, only a little bit though." He chuckled softly before shaking his head. "So, I need you to keep doing what you've been doing for me. Letting me confront the problems while being my spine to strengthen me. And, while we're in public, I have to be your Prime. All right? But when we're all alone, like this, I just want to be Nightflier again. It'll just be us, and I won't have to worry about being a Prime then, all right?"
His father gently bumped their helms together affectionately. "Of course. I'd have it no other way." He vented gently against him. "You need to talk to Arcee too."
Nightfall peeked up at him. "Yeah? Yeah. I just . . . don't know what I'm going to tell her."
"Just tell her what you need to. She's a strong and mature femme. She will understand."
Nightfall's lips tipped up before he could stop them. "Yeah? You really like her, don't you?"
He heard a deep chuckle rumble his father's chassis. "She is good for you."
Nightfall glanced up to him, and his lips twisted as he saw the hidden amusement in his father's optics. "What?"
Dreadwing shook his head. "Nothing." Nightfall pursed his lips at his father's apparent inside joke, a little miffed that he wasn't going to explain himself. Dreadwing stood, saying, "I'll go get her for you."
"Thank you," Nightfall said wryly, sitting crisscross on the ground. His wings perked, and he exhaled, letting them sag as he relaxed. The instant he did that, he felt his father brush against his spark.
She's going to be fine.
The smallest of trembles shook his armor. How do you know?
She is a strong femme too. If she is anything like her mother, she can take care of herself.
His wings fluttered, and his servos clenched. If Megatron gets . . . if he . . . If—
Don't dwell on the ifs. They'll just consume you. Relax. Trust in her and Ratchet. He will not allow any harm to befall her.
By the Celestial Spires, I hope so . . .
"Nightfall?"
He nearly jumped out of his protoform, whirling around so fast he nearly fell over. "Great Cybertron!" His hand smacked to his chassis where his spark had galloped into motion, and he calmed himself, narrowing his optics at Arcee. "You scared the primal Primus out of me!"
He watched her lips pull a little bit before they fell flat again. She bit her lip. "You needed to talk to me?"
Nightfall nodded, patting the ground next to him. "Yeah, just for a second." She seemed to hesitate for some reason before sitting down, and Nightfall frowned at her. "What's wrong?"
She chewed on her lip harder. She dropped her helm, hands squirming in her lap. "It's just . . ."
"What?"
Her whisper was almost inaudible. "You're a Prime." Arcee looked up suddenly, and Nightfall felt his spark jump when he saw what she had been hiding-so much awe that it was almost fear. "You're PRIME. I—I see it now. When you came back . . . When you came out of the fire . . . You were DIFFERENT. I could see it. You moved differently, you spoke differently, you acted differently."
Nightfall frowned, leaning forward to her. "Arcee, stop. Just because I'm a little different doesn't mean I'm a different person. I'm still me." When Arcee still looked at him differently than she had before, Nightfall sighed and quirked his mouth plates up. "Now c'mon, Arcee. Don't be like that. You've fragged the ever-loving daylights out of me."
She scowled at him, snapping, "Don't joke about this! I'm serious!"
He flipped up his hands in surrender before she could get angrier. "Easy. So am I."
"Then that was no way to joke about it."
"Arcee." He grabbed her servos before she could yank away, and he looked across from her in the cool of the night. His lips curved gently. "That's exactly my point that you've interfaced with me. You've already had me in such an intimate way, and just because I'm Prime doesn't change things, only a little."
"Of course it changes things," she said, trying to yank her hands away from him. He gripped her wrists tighter, refusing to let her. "You're—You're my PRIME! I can't be fraternizing with my Prime!"
"You've already BEEN fraternizing with your Prime," he said cheekily, smiling at her. "To the point that my second in command nearly broke his processor when we blew it out of proportions. And proceeded to laugh so hard about it that I almost twisted an axel, you too."
She snapped her jaw shut and looked down, shaking her head. "That—That was before. You didn't really believe you were a Prime then."
"And why does it change so much now?"
"It just does!" Arcee snapped. "This would be like me making a move on OPTIMUS of all mechs!"
Nightfall frowned. "I'm NOT Optimus. I'm still me, Nightflier, I've just had the title of Prime bestowed on me with a new rank and a new name. That's all, Arcee—a TITLE. It doesn't change who I am."
Arcee shook her head even more vigorously, almost so that she whipped her helm. She abruptly shot to her peds, taking with her her hands, and Nightfall blinked up at her as she stammered, "It's different. I shouldn't have been doing this regardless. You're my Prime. I shouldn't have ever—"
Nightfall leapt to his peds, scowling. "You're using this to push me away, aren't you? Arcee, I'm still the same! That was the whole point of having you come out here, so I could tell you that I didn't want things to change between us! I don't care WHAT'S associated with the Prime title, I'm doing things differently than the Primes of old! Maybe they are supposed to command reverence, fear, and respect, but I'm not losing any personal attachments I have, and that includes you."
"I know what happens to mechs who get attached to me!" she snapped. "And I know what happened to Elita! You shouldn't take the chance!"
Primus, she could make him so ANGRY! He almost wasn't even aware of his servos grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "I know that, Arcee! I know it, I do, and I'm willing to take the chance! Why aren't you? Ha! You scared?"
Her cold blue optics flashed fire. "DON'T you accuse me of being scared!"
"Then don't you run from the problem!"
"You're the one running from the problem!" she shot back angrily, face flushed in her agitation as she glared right up into his face. "The problem is that you are a PRIME! You're running from your duty! Primes aren't supposed to get involved with others, especially their soldiers! Scrap like that impairs your judgment!"
He shook her again, servos clenching tight. "I NEED you to fraternize with me!" he shouted back at her. "I need you to keep me sane and grounded! I need to be able to lean on you when I have no one left to lean on! I need—I WANT you to fraternize with me, Arcee, I care about you too much!"
"That's exactly the problem!" she shouted back. "You shouldn't care this much about me! You can't! You have to be ready to send me to die! You have to be ready—"
His mouth crushed against hers, silencing her every argument on the spot. He felt her fists hitting him, and Nightfall grunted, grabbing her wrists, forcing her arms back, struggling to overpower her as he kissed her as hard as he could, so angry and so frustrated and so hungry for her he let her trip the wire of his control. She yanked her helm away, and Nightfall wrapped an arm around her neck, forcing her back to him. She bit his bottom lip viciously, drawing energon, and he wrestled her until he got her locked in a hold.
"Does that feel like I've changed?" he snapped at her raggedly, venting so hard he almost couldn't control himself. Arcee didn't answer, but only struggled harder, making their balance wobble. "Are these lips any different from before? Do I kiss you different? Do I taste different? Is this passion any different than before?"
He kissed her again, fighting her mouth and body to make her understand. The faintest whimper caught in her vocalizer, and he heard it, Primus, he HEARD that whimper, and he grabbed the back of her helm, forcing her head back and deepening the kiss on a heady slant. She continued to beat at his chassis, but it was weak, her fists pummeling at him without strength as she began to slump in his arms. He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her close, and their hips hit each other, hot and sizzling.
He wrenched his lips from her again, but only to snarl, "I'm NOT any different, Arcee. I'm still me, and whatever's between us is still here! I can feel it, and I know you can too! Try to deny it!" He kissed her hard again, and her servos plucked weakly at his chassis. She sank into him, melting from the heat that consumed her. "You can't deny it," he hissed raggedly. "I became Prime BECAUSE I care! What good is a Prime without compassion? Without anger? Without passion like this!"
He seized her again, mouth devouring her swollen lips, and this time, the fight had been sucked from her. Her mouth opened, and Nightfall's glossia delved inside, tasting her, drowning in the intoxicating heat that rose between them. With a frustrated growl, Nightfall hoisted Arcee up, and her legs immediately locked around his waist. He stalked off in the general direction of the berth rooms, spark crackling with anger and hunger. He parted just long enough to bite one more thing out:
"And this time, I'M topping!"
He dragged her inside, and he threw her down on the first berth he found. Kissing over her hungrily, he grabbed one of her thighs, hooking it around his waist. A jagged moan clawed its way out of his throat when he felt her fingers claw into his back and sharply stimulate the sensitive protoform beneath. He arched, wings flexing, mouth ravaging hers.
But, he literally FELT a presence with them, and a sharp clearing of a throat and tapping of a finger made him jolt.
He nearly threw himself off of Arcee when he found Ultra Magnus standing above them, arms crossed over his broad chassis as he glared particularly hard.
"Correct me if I am mistaken, Nightfall: you promised me you wouldn't do this again, our medic and your sister are kidnapped, and you are about to interface in Bumblebee's berth."
Nightfall screwed his optics shut. "I . . ."
Before he could come up with an appropriate response, he felt a massive hand grab his shoulder, and he squeaked with Arcee as Ultra Magnus literally hoisted them up and tossed them out of the berth rooms. They fell with a tumble in the dirt, and Nightfall heard his SIC say, "Now. I am going to get some recharge, as my Prime ORDERED me to do in the first place."
The doors slammed shut. For a minute, both Nightfall and Arcee simply laid there in the sand that night, sucking in vents to cool them down after working themselves up so much. Finally, Nightfall found his vocalizer.
"I, um . . . This is my fault. I kissed you. And took you in there when I—Primus, I even ORDERED him to the berth to get some rest. And checked on him before I came out here!"
He heard the faintest laugh. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you?"
Nightfall glanced over at the same time Arcee did, and their optics locked. And, with that one glance, he knew things were back to normal. Their lips twitched with giggles, and then they began laughing again, snickering and howling with tears at their predicament as they lapsed back to where they had been before.
When they finally controlled themselves, Nightfall reached over, and he took her hand as they laid in the dirt. Finally, after a minute, he asked, "Hey, Arcee?"
"Yeah?"
He bit his lip. Hard. "Wanna do it in Magnus's ship?"
She choked on a laugh. "He's not using it right now."
Nightfall began to snicker again, shaking his head. "We could put it on autopilot."
"Right in the driver's seat."
"He's gonna hate us."
"It'll be hot though." She rolled over him suddenly, and he found her face broad with a grin and a wink. "Besides, he doesn't have to know."
Nightfall chuckled, grinning and nuzzling her lips. "I do so LOVE your style." He sat up and turned around, wiggling his fingers. "C'mon! I'll give you a piggy back ride over there since I can't carry you like a bride or like potatoes."
Arcee just stopped and shook her head. "Fli-Ni, no. Do I need to remind you that you're a wounded mech?"
"They're just some burns," he said. He wiggled his butt. "Come on. I'll be fine!"
"And just WHO is taking the flight in the morning and who will need his recharge?"
"My father," he replied smartly. "He wants me to rest as much as possible, but you'll make me sleep really good tonight, right?" Nightfall moved closer, winking. "C'mon, Arcee, you know you wanna."
She rolled her optics, muttering, "You really HAVEN'T changed . . ." She huffed. "Fine." She hopped up on his back, snuggled awkwardly around his wings. "And just for the record, kissing me was cheating."
Nightfall grinned, jogging towards Ultra Magnus's ship. "Just as long as I'm winning."
"And I hate to break it to you, but . . ." and she kissed his neck, sending a tremble down his back. "I'M going to top again."
"Oh no you're not!" he shot back. "I am SO topping, and you know it. You were melting like putty."
"Just because you took me off guard. You're still the virgin of this relationship, Fli-Ni, and I'll be topping."
"Arcee. I'm not a virgin, and I'm topping."
"I bet you being forced to wax Ultra Magnus's ship—no, ALL the vehicles of this base—that you're not topping."
"Hah! I take that bet. Don't feel bad when you're up to your elbows in wax!"
He took her inside Magnus's ship, and he sat her in the driver's seat. He waggled his brows. "Kinky. Where to, mademoiselle?"
She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh Captain, my Captain! Take me wherever you please!"
Nightfall snickered, and he reached around, picking an old route and setting the autopilot. The ship hummed and jerked as it took off, but once it was smooth sailing, he leaned down and began to kiss her again, murmuring, "You are an extremely crazy femme, you know that?"
"Says the juvenile Prime sitting on my lap."
"Ooh, look at that, I'm already topping."
She kissed him back hard, stealing his breath away and setting his soul on fire. She smirked back, cocky optics twinkling.
"Not for long."
Nightstalker was sitting in her cell, and her optics darted around compulsively. It was as if every creak and groan of the ship was someone coming for her, coming to get her after so long. She had raged at Knockout for so long she hadn't thought to keep an eye on her inner clock, and now she had no idea how long she had been on the ship. Days? Maybe her imagination was getting to her. It couldn't have been that long, could it?
With a sudden epiphany, Nightstalker leapt to her peds in agitation. This was what it had been like for her torture victims, wasn't it? When she left them alone for so long. This was what they felt like. They dreaded every single sound. They counted every particle of dust to pass the time, just to keep their minds occupied and off of their impending doom. They KNEW the inevitable was coming, just not WHEN.
As Nightstalker's knees knocked, she groused that perhaps this was a fitting punishment for her. She, a former torturer, about to receive the very same punishment, if not worse, than what she had given. Her wings fluttered rapidly, straining against the clamp. She deserved this, didn't she? She had to pay penance at some point in her life. Maybe that time had come?
Another heavy clang split the air. Nightstalker jerked and her wrists snagged on the cuffs. Someone was coming. Oh dear Primus, this time it was true, someone was coming, she could hear their footsteps!
Ice chilled in her energon tanks, and her fists clenched so tightly she felt her fingers cutting into her palms. She knew the sound of those ped steps. Oh Primus, she KNEW, she had heard them all her life, she knew who's weight made that solid step, she KNEW the sound of that dogmatic, commanding presence. Her back smacked against the wall of her cell, the one dim light of the brig flickering and waning as a code was pressed in and the door opened up on a shrieking whiz.
He came in, silver paint job gleaming under the weak light, and her spark stopped, full of terror and paranoia as she heard a loud rattling in the air. Her vocalizer fused tight as she watched him smile, baring his sharp denta.
"Nightstalker!" He walked forward, extending his servos as if she were a long, lost friend. "It's good to see you again!"
She pressed against the wall, orange optics flared wide and stuck like a deer in headlights. He had come for her. She had known he would, but now that he was here, she found she had no means of self-defense. She didn't know what to do or how to handle him, and he was coming towards her, wearing that smile.
"It's been far too long," Megatron said, and she watched his mouth frown, brows cinching. "I can't believe what that idiot did to you. I told him to keep you here so I could find you, not tie you up like you're a prisoner. You are one of us, and you are always welcome here."
He loomed above her, so tall, so powerful, and so terrifying. A breaking squeak scratched from her vocals when his hand reached down to her, but he merely turned off the stasis cuffs and unlocked the clamp, allowing her free. She almost collapsed in terror, ankles weak and energon tanks churning.
"There. Now isn't that better?" She wanted to shake her head. She wanted to say something. Anything. But she couldn't find any air, and she couldn't unlock her jaw or get her glossia to work. Megatron smiled again, and she flinched when his hand took her wrist, lifting her arm into view. "Silver!" he said amicably. "The color looks beautiful on you, Nights."
For some reason, with his disconcerting kindness and concern to her, all Nightstalker could think was that she had taken the same exact color that Megatron wore. They were both silver. She really did want him, didn't she? Subconsciously. No! No, she didn't, she knew what he had done, and she knew where she belonged.
Right?
Megatron frowned again, and he knelt down to her height. "Nightstalker? Are you all right?"
"No!" Finally, her vocalizer unlocked long enough for her to squeeze some words out, thin and airy with fear. "D-Don't touch me!"
Understanding clicked in his optics, and she watched as he rocked back on his heels. "Ah. You're still angry with me over that last accident."
She wanted to scream. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't an accident!
Megatron vented heavily, and he took her hand more firmly, pressing it almost tenderly between his servos. "Nightstalker, I haven't seen you, so I haven't been able to tell you, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things I said to you, and I didn't mean to do what I did. You just . . . made me so angry I couldn't control myself. I took care of you all your life, shared myself with you, cared about you, and you accused my affections for rape?" He shook his head sadly back and forth. "I'm sorry. I know you shouldn't forgive me for that, but I'm begging you. It was just a misunderstanding. You're all I have. You're the only one who knows me for me."
Nightstalker shook her head. No, that wasn't true! He wasn't . . . What if . . . He had never shown her anger before. Even when she was with the Autobots, he hadn't shown her anger. He had never struck her, never even raised a hand to her. He had never hurt her before. Was it all her fault? She always screwed things up . . .
She shook her head wildly, whispering, "No . . . You—You're tricking me!"
"Don't say things like that," Megatron said, hurt wounding his voice as he looked at her with ultimate betrayal in his optics. "I've never lied to you, Nights. I've missed you. I've missed having you around to talk to, to go on flights with, to be with you. I want you back where you belong."
"No!" She yanked on her arm, but he didn't release her, and she pressed into the wall, caught like a bug. "You're lying! I—I belong with the Autobots!"
"I'm not lying, Nights," he said, that silver tongue weaving an intricate web in the design just right to catch his prey. His helm dipped down, and her spark leapt, in fear and in elation when he kissed the back of her hand like he used to, and he lifted humbled optics to her. "I miss you. I want you back. I want you to be my queen, the way it used to be. Please, I'm sorry, Nightstalker. Please forgive me."
Hot, confused, angry tears beaded in her optics. He was wrong! She couldn't . . . Forgive him? After what he did to her? She could never! She couldn't ever do that! He was using her, he had to be . . .
One of his hands reached up to her face, and a clawed finger dipped to flick the wetness away. "Don't cry."
The falsified tenderness was so REAL. It sounded just like it used to. No, more than it used to. She had never heard him so meek in his life. He NEVER showed weakness. Not to anyone. No one but her. She was the only one he let his walls down to. Her insides jolted, ripping in half in a cruel event of tug of war.
Cliffjumper, Cliffjumper, help me, please! Please! Ratchet, please, someone help me! I need help, please, please . . . !
He was so large and imposing. He absolutely dwarfed her, covering her every exit, and Nightstalker trembled, hearing her armor clattering she shook so hard. "This isn't true. It's not, you're just lying . . ."
Her words were too weak to hold any iron behind them. Her wings fluttered rapidly, and she felt her spark hit her peds when his hand tipped her chin up to him. "What do I have to do to get you to understand, Nights?" he asked quietly, and her spark wrenched and shuddered when she felt his thumb stroke her bottom lip.
NO NO NO NO—
She couldn't let him, she couldn't! Wildly, she tried to think of Cliffjumper, and for a moment, he was so hazy in her vision she almost couldn't bring him back, but she could remember that warm laughter in her audios and the tender touch that always soothed her spark. She twisted, trying to get away from Megatron, but she forgot she was backed up against a wall with no escape, trapped and tiny.
"Please, Nights," he murmured softly. She felt her spark slamming on the inside of her chassis, so hard it felt like it was going to leap from her spark chamber doors. He leaned forward, closing for the kill. "Just one little kiss . . . Let me show you how much I want you back . . ."
He had her. He snared her, hooker line and sinker. Against her will, Nightstalker let his mouth touch hers, and she felt that heady little slant, that perfect caress that stirred the lust in her no one else could. There was the tiniest curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss and wrapped an arm around her, bringing her flush against him as he sensed his dominance persevering again. For a second, Nightstalker returned his kiss, hungry, lost in the taste of him so intoxicating, an addictive drug that overcame her every sense.
But this kiss . . . Wasn't like the other kisses she had received. He was the only one who kissed her like this. Even Optimus, consumed with lust, had kissed her better than this, as much attentive to her needs as his own. And Cliffjumper . . . Her spark screamed out. He was always tender. Even on one of her darkest nights when she couldn't resist an interface that resembled the ones she had with Megatron, he was ALWAYS tender, kissing her deeply, giving her his entire spark, and kissing her with every ounce of love he had wrapped up inside.
Wildly, she began to fight. She kicked. She hit. She tried to move away, but his overpowering arms crushed her close, and his mouth ravaged over hers, trying to draw a breaking moan from her that would ultimately cause the lust to win. Refusing to give up, Nightstalker lifted a clawed hand and slammed her fingers beneath the plating in his cheeks, and she let the lava flow, stinging him.
He cursed and swore, releasing her with such force she slammed into the wall. Shaking, this time with anger instead of fear, she shouted out at the irate warlord, "Let me GO! You don't care about me! You never have! You just used me! All the time!"
Suddenly, from nowhere, she felt strength pouring into her circuits, a will fused with the words she had been hearing ever since the rape and the love she had felt, TRUE love, and a love that she would wield with a clout.
"You just—You've used me! All my life!" Hot anger flushed into her cheeks as she glared at him, so angry as everything in her life suddenly fell neatly into one little pile. And she HATED the look of it. "You just let me live so you could use me! You just wanted someone you could mess with and mold into whatever you wanted, and since I was a kid I had no idea what you were doing to me! I didn't know it was wrong, I just had to let you raise me because I didn't know any better! And you wanted to make sure I would never have the compassion my mother had, so you gave me over to Airachnid so she could rip it all from me!"
She tore into him with all she had, so tired of it all she couldn't hold back now. The lava had dried on his cheek, and his glowering red optics didn't so much as flinch away from her as he stared right back. "You wanted me to be a perfect little queen, a pretty little footstool to frag whenever you liked and someone who wouldn't share in the power you wielded. And that one little decision I had in the torture chambers to save Cliffjumper messed everything up! See, the Autobots got a hold of me, and I finally saw people who REALLY cared about each other. I saw REAL love, and it was given to me!"
Nightstalker shook her head, orange optics blazing as she stared into the face of the mech who had twisted her life and soul into something almost unable to be fixed. And now, right now, in the heat of her anger, there wasn't any fear as she told him exactly what he needed to hear. "And on top of that, this was all about OPTIMUS, wasn't it?" She gave a bewildered laugh, shaking her head at the ironic pity of it all. "You were so jealous of Optimus having Elita that you just HAD to have someone for yourself! You killed Elita and you molded me into exactly what you wanted, just to snub it in Optimus's face! Because if you couldn't be Prime, if you couldn't have Elita, neither could Optimus!"
Her lip curled as her fists clenched. "And all this time, I TRUSTED you! I TRUSTED you! I had no reason to doubt you, and I respected you! I trusted you, and I believed in you! I could only see the good in you, and it's blinded me long enough. I am NOT your toy, I am NOT something to be used, and I WON'T EVER go back to you! Got it? I am an Autobot, and I know where I belong! Where I am LOVED!"
Nightstalker finally came to a halt, vents ragged with fury as she tried to control herself. Megatron barely even blinked at her, a dark storm whirling in the depths of his optics. His brooding, blood-red optics narrowed.
"Is that so? I should have known Optimus would have messed you up."
"No, he fixed me," Nightstalker snapped to his face. "He HEALED me. He taught me the difference between right and wrong, and without him in my life, I would STILL be bowing over for you. When he kissed me, he opened my optics to what lust really was, and I'm NOT falling for it again."
Megatron's optics darkened, black wrath rising. "He KISSED you?"
Her lip curled again. "And kissed me better than you ever did."
Her words went too far, breaking the straw on the camel's back. A silver hand flashed forward, and Nightstalker grunted when that servo slammed into her neck and forced her into the wall, almost snapping her neck with one blow. She wheezed, and all of the sudden, now that he was retaliating, her courage was nipped at the bud. Jerking, she wheezed in a thin vent.
"Is that so?" he growled, rage making his grip tighten. He lifted her up, driving her into the wall again with such force that spasms jolted through her body. Her servos flashed up, but his other hand grabbed them, knowing her cute little trick that she had already used. "You ungrateful little WRETCH. He's stolen everything from me, and now he's taken you as well!" His voice rose to a thunderous roar, echoing in the lonely room. He shook her violently, making her legs whip. The world swam in her vision.
"You worthless little whore! Throwing yourself around like a little play thing for everyone to frag as they please! Well tell me, did Optimus frag you good? DID HE?" He shook her furiously again, and Nightstalker tried to get her vocalizer to work, to tell him that he hadn't, but she couldn't get anything out but indecipherable choking noises.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed it! I've had enough of tending to you! If you want to be an Autobot—FINE. You're an AUTOBOT. And as such, I'll treat you as one!"
Nightstalker screamed when she felt herself thrown across the room. Before she could gather her bearings, she felt his servo clamp down tight on her face, and his claws cut into her paint as he roughly dragged her through the halls of the NEMESIS.
Nightstalker screamed. She screamed and kicked and thrashed, twisting and writhing and yanking as he effortlessly towed her away, but she SCREAMED. Her vocalizer's shrieks ripped across the ship, echoing across the halls as she made a terrifying spectacle of herself. Vehicons scattered at the sight of them. They left the warlord to his means as he dragged her off, and Nightstalker felt her spark about to burst with terror. His berth? Was it his berth? He wanted to rape her to death right in his BERTH? The sickening, cruel irony of it all made bile rise in the back of her throat, but she didn't stop screaming until Megatron suddenly halted, and a door sprang open.
"This one has outlived her use. She's not much, but perhaps she'll be a tasty SNACK!"
Nightstalker felt herself hurled forward. With a grunt, she hit the ground, and she looked up just in time to see the doors whiz shut on Megatron's back. She leapt forward, shouting, and her fists hit the door that locked, stranding her outside. A cold chill settled in her gut. Whirling around, her wide, orange optics looked across the way to the dragon that had lifted his head from his lounge. She collapsed back against the door as he rose, blocking her path to freedom, and his head came within range of her, easily capable of swallowing her without even snapping one piece of metal she was so tiny.
Gleaming yellow optics narrowed, blinking at her. For a second, she didn't realize she was hyperventilating, but Predaking transformed, and the hulking mech glared haughtily down at her, a femme that barely came up to his knee.
"He is right, Autobot. You shall be no more than a snack for the main course."
Ratchet. Spark skipping irregularly, Nightstalker managed to rasp, "W-wait, please—"
"Pitiful as you are," he continued contemptuously, "you are still an Autobot. And as such, you shall atone for the lives of my Predacon brethren with your very life." His yellow optics blazed with anger, pinning her to the floor.
"I hope you will scream as they did."