Wolf By The Ears Chapter 10
Kind of a bridge chapter here, so not a lot of action. Sorry about that, but the characters insisted. Damn Autobot do-gooders.
Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Sari all hugged him goodbye. Optimus could tell they were worried about him, and he couldn't really blame them. Being left alone with Megatron was still pretty intimidating, and now he also felt like he had a giant target painted on his back. Perhaps with a nice caption: 'Free your Warlord, offline the Prime.'
On the other hand, Megatron would theoretically be driven to throw himself between danger and Optimus, so they weren't terribly likely to be targeted by something like a missile, and it would be hard to get a really accurate long-range assassination weapon with pinpoint sighting inside city limits. Well, something that could get though his armor, anyway. He hoped.
Of course, the Decepticons weren't his only worry.
There was also the press.
Optimus and Megatron stepped out Omega Supreme's main hatch and into a flood of light and a lot of accompanying noise, as what appeared to be several hundred reporters, fans, and random busybodies shouted questions at them.
The expression on the big Decepticon's faceplates was dangerous.
Right, two goals: get Megatron out of the crowd without any of the reporters or bystanders getting slagged, and distract said reporters from whatever lurid fantasies were apparently churning up the popular imagination when it came to the two of them.
Optimus had watched enough Earth television to have some idea of how to handle this, fortunately. He managed to smile at the gawkers, tell them that he had a great deal of confidence in Ultra Magnus, the council, and the combined wisdom of their decisions, and that no, he didn't have any other comments right now.
One slightly built bot in a brilliant shade of magenta shoved a camera mod in Optimus's face and shouted a question "Is it true that you go an Academy classmate killed while looking for a shipwreck?"
There were so many possible answers to that, but he didn't think that "no comment" was the best response in this case.
"No." Optimus said simply.
"No? No what?" Optimus didn't reply. "Wait, you can't leave it at that!" squeaked the newsbot. He had the predatory gleam of a professional gossip stalking a possible Big Scoop in his optics.
"I can't provide you with any details about that at this time." Optimus said. "However, I met a femme who used to go by the designation Elita One while I was on Earth. She is very different now, but not deactivated."
The newsbot looked like Sari at Christmas, when she was presented with a large brightly wrapped box. There. It should give them something to focus on besides him and Megtron. Elita, or rather Black Arachnia could handle herself, and he wasn't at all sure anymore that he should have taken the fall for Sentinel back when it had happened. The guilt wasn't his alone, after all.
Giving Megatron a terse command to "follow me, and don't engage the crowd" Optimus managed to make it to the designated landing pad. This was in part due to several of the maintenance bots working on Omega giving them an escort, though they looked frightened of Megatron.
Which was not anything anybot could possibly blame them for.
He gave the foremech, a decent old sort named Patchjob a grateful smile and a nod, and launched, Megatron following him a sparkbeat later.
Megatron had to admit that the little Prime had bearings. And a certain strategic ability.
He was a celebrity now, and the press would be trolling his background for dirt. He had just taken control of the narrative with a brief but intriguing statement. It would have the added benefit of encouraging reporters to look into what had gone on back on Earth, which could only reflect well on the Prime's team. After all, a ragged little group of Academy dregs and a couple of broken down veterans had held off Megatron and several of his lieutenants, plus a host of hostile alien menaces.
It wasn't like the bridge repair team had had a lot of useful backup from Cybertron, after all. The Autobot forces had been spread thin at the time, as his own troops harried them and attacked space bridge facilities all over the quadrant, but surely it would have been prudent to send a few heavy-hitters to the little blue planet, given that Megatron himself was there. Not to mention the Allspark.
Perhaps someone in the Elite Guard had been trying to get rid of the little tricolored Prime? Disposing of someone by sending them against the leaders of the Decepticons would normally be quite an effective method.
There had been times back on Earth when would have ended the little Prime if he could. Of course, given his long and frustrating incarceration in Sumdac's lab, he had contemplated other uses for the Autobot as well. Megatron distained rape, but he was an accomplished seducer, and an Autobot Prime would have been a fine prize.
They flew through the darkening skies as lights bloomed below them in the suburbs of Iacon. Megatron enjoyed the journey, and was definitely in no hurry to return to the Prime's home.
He hoped that this sort of travel would be a regular thing. It gave him an illusion of freedom for all that he was bound to serve his enemy. He glanced sidelong at the mech in question. They had been earnestly trying to offline one another a short time ago, and now they flew together like old wingmates. There was probably a lesson in that somewhere, if only one about the Universe's perverse sense of humor. It was looking more and more like he was going to be stuck with the little pest for the foreseeable future, and even if the bathtime interludes were nice, it was most empathetically not a good thing.
He hoped that his chosen successor had successfully taken control of his army. He always had a contingency plan, though he had always assumed that if his general were in command, it would be because he was dead. This situation made things much more complicated.
If only he could come up with a way to contact his commanders. He wanted to know what was going on, and all he was gleaning from the ridiculous Autobot press was a lot of silly noise about himself and the Prime. And that egocentric moron with the chin. Apparently the big blue prime was some kind of rival to his own Prime. There was no comparison. What on Cybertron had Ultra Magnus been thinking? Unless the one with the chin was interfacing his way to the top? He recalled Ultra having better taste than that before.
If only Shockwave was free. He was not the only undercover agent here, but he had been the highest placed in the Guard.
His Decepticons would make contact with him at some point. His general was very loyal, after all. It would be difficult, but not impossible.
The next day, Optimus decided to take his Decepticon guest for a new paintjob. He'd have Ratchet continue to do Megatron's maintenance, but the medic didn't really do much with finish.
They arrived at the small facility where Optimus and his friends had once gotten their Academy detailing and finishes done. He had called ahead to warn the crew here, since he didn't want to cause a panic, and they had (somewhat reluctantly) agreed. Not that they could do much else. They were an Elite Guard facility, and he was a Prime.
They were met by a very nervous mech who stared at Megatron like he was going to start laying waste to the place at any moment. The poor bot was actually wringing his servos with anxiety.
Opimus dialed up the soothing, reassuring tone of voice that he used to use around fearful humans. It had worked on worried municipal employees of the city of Detroit, and it worked now on Pigments and his crew.
"I'll be right here with you the whole time." He said to the mech. "Megatron, you will cooperate with any reasonable request from Pigments and the other workers here. You will not harm any of them."
The last order was mostly for show, since he had given Megatron standing orders about not hurting Autobots, but he wanted the mechs here to hear it too.
The Decepticon gave him a slightly dirty look but responded "Yes, Master."
Well, at least it worked. The warlord submitted to having his paint completely stripped, and then a primer application. Optimus had brought datapads to read while the coating dried, and offered his companion a selection. He got a put-upon sigh for his troubles, but Megatron selected one and immediately called up the news. Optimus propped the device up where he could see it and scroll through the display with shortwave commands.
After a while, the workmechs collected Megatron for his paint application, coating him in rich shades of gray, maroon and black. The Decepticon symbols were only raised impressions right now, but as the color nanites were colonized by their bearer's native cyberflora, the purple design would reappear.
When the paint was dry, there was a brisk, professional application of Guard standard resin polish. Megtron looked like the high ranked, formidable war leader that he was, sleek and dangerous. The glossy perfection of the paint job emphasized his sinister good looks. Optimus told himself sternly that it was merely practical. The public (and any watchful Decepticon spies) would need to see that his…slave was being well cared for.
Fraggit.
Their flight back was pleasantly interrupted by Jetfire and Jetstorm, who were back on planet for a bit.
"Mister Optimus Prime Sir! And Evil Decepticon Leader, Sir! We are being happy to see you!" Said Jetstrorm. They circled the two other fliers, and were shamelessly ogling Optimus and his Decepticon companion.
Optimus couldn't blame them. Afer all, not so long ago he would have been just as eager to get a good look at someone like Megatron, and at the winged jetpack that he himself was wearing. Apparently, attempts at reproducing the equipment kept hitting snags.
He snuck a glance at Megatron, to see if he was angry at the interruption, but the Decepticon didn't act like he minded. In fact, he looked mildly appreciative. It was probably the jet twins' maneuverability. Or their calling him "Sir". He knew how much Megatron hated being subservient to anyone, especially an Autobot.
"Jetfire, Jetstorm, it is good to see you" Optimus said. "Why don't you fly with us? It would be nice to have the company."
He could see the two young fliers' delight at the invitation. They practically wriggled with enthusiasm. The sleek jetformers practically flitted around Optimus and Megatron, far more maneuverable in their alt modes than anyone could be in root mode. Particularly if one was actually a truckbot who had been built with the expectation that he would keep his stabilizers and tires on the ground like a sensible Autobot.
It was fun to watch the twins fly. He was a little envious of their natural skill in their element, but he was mostly just glad that he could take to the air at all.
When they landed on the balcony at home, Optimus was reminded that Jetfire and Jetstorm were actually a little taller than him, making him the smallest bot in the group. It honestly felt very weird, as he was a large mech by Autobot standards, and of his team, only Bulkhead was bigger.
He invited the twins inside, and retrieved four cubes.
It was a fun evening. The twins caught Optimus up on all the latest gossip in the Elite Guard, and even Megatron seemed to relax. No one could be alarmed by Jetfire and Jetstorm, at least when they weren't in combat mode. The two fliers were just so…cute. Like Bumblebee without the attitude.
At some point, when they had reached a mild buzz of overenergizaton, Megatron unbent enough to tell a brief story about a very young Starscream. It involved a Quintesson scout ship, an asteroid belt, and a holding tank full of bioreactive algae. Optimus laughed so hard his high grade nearly came out his vents.
It was…nice. The bond felt warm and solid, and not intrusive or angry, just…there. Megatron had finally relaxed in his home, and it was nice to visit with the jet twins.
They ended up sleeping on his couch, with Megatron going to the master suite and Optimus in one of the secondary bedrooms, a smile on his face plates. It had been a good day. Maybe he could make this work after all.
The red optics watching from the top of a distant building narrowed in angry suspicion when the four mechs landed on the elegant balcony. Their orders were to observe, and to make contact if possible, but not to engage the enemy.
Their other two frames were elsewhere on the planet, but their quantum bond allowed the small gestalt to communicate in real time. Viewfinder was assigned to their captured lord tonight. There were other agents on planet, of course, but this was the most important assignment, to see if it was safe to free their leader from bondage. If not, well, there were other steps that could be taken, but they were not so clean and neat as removing the troublesome Prime.
He could not believe that even the Autobots would sink so low as to use the slave coding again. They should have learned their lesson the last time. Fools.
If Ultra Magnus had been in command, this would not have happened. Of course, Megatron would probably be deactivated now, but at least the slave code wouldn't be in use.
The biggest worry was that the Autobot Council might have chosen a truly decent mech who was compatible to Megatron. It would not do to cripple their lord by assassinating his bonded, after all.
He watched the little group through the glassteel doors of the balcony, and worried. They weren't harming their prisoner, and he did not seem annoyed at them, which was a bad sign. They wanted Megatron free, and if the fragging Autobots had actually picked a kind mech who was a good match for him, it would be far more difficult to reach that objective.
Difficult, but by no means impossible.