Thank you all for the follow/favorites and reviews!
lordprixton: oh my god. You are the 7th or 8th person to ask me if they are going to be paired lol. I'm not going to say anything as to how spoil the story, but I'll leave your imagination to have some fun ;)
Nightwing sat rigidly in the lavish chair, wings drawn tightly against her back. The waiting area was modest for one of the Transport Guild's higher-ups, though she knew appearances were deceiving. What might seem plain to an outsider concealed the treachery of the Transport Guild.
She tapped her digits against the armrest of her chair and looked around the room, completely and utterly bored. She had been waiting for two breems in this rather bland waiting area, per order of the secretary drone that stared blankly at the computer, probably not doing anything.
This meeting had been arranged carefully. Dozens of messages sent under layers of encryption had led her to this klik, but nothing was guaranteed. The danger was the number of ties that the Transport Guild had to the Functionists. One wrong word here, and her true purpose could be exposed.
Finally, the drone called her to Guildmaster Torque's office. The door finally hissed open, and she stepped in, immediately hit of the grandeur of the mech's office. Everything was constructed out golden-hued alloy—even his desk. Expensive and rare Aquillian crystals decorated pillars with elaborate markings, and expensive bookcases lined either wall, filled with books, datapads, and ancient artifacts, even Predacon bones.
Nightwing clipped her intake shut, realizing that she had been gaping. Her optics were drawn to a door to her right, and through it stepped a bulky, broad mech with bright paint that hurt her optics. His plating, much like her own, was free of any scuffs or wear, and his green optics scanned her as if weighing her worth in shanix.
"Senator Nightwing," he greeted with a sickening smile as he glided over to his desk. "What a pleasure to finally meet in bot."
Nightwing inclined her helm in acknowledgment. "Guildmaster Torque," she replied, keeping her tone crisp and professional. "A pleasure, indeed. Though I imagine your time is as valuable as mine, so I'll dispense with pleasantries."
The mech chuckled, reaching under his desk to grab a cube of pale pink liquid—engex. "You're taking quite the risk, Senator."
"A calculated risk," she replied, sauntering over to the mech and sitting down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. "One I deemed necessary, given the scope of our arrangement. I trust that my proposal has piqued your interest enough to justify this meeting."
"You've been... persistent," he said carefully, taking a swing of his engex. "Your messages were intriguing. Yet, I'll admit, the details you provided raised a few questions."
"Questions," she echoed, raising an optical ridge. She shifted, feigning impatience. "I would expect the head of a prestigious guild to grasp the opportunity presented to him without hesitation."
Torque chuckled. "A hefty sum of credits, and all you ask in return is discreet transport for a... how did you phrase it? A collection of 'disposable assets' for experimental purposes? Forgive my curiosity, Senator, but I'd like to understand exactly what kind of experiments require such a peculiar cargo."
The senator's optics hardened just enough to sell her annoyance. "The details are irrelevant to you, Guildmaster. Suffice it to say, I am investigating the effects of prolonged energon deprivation on lower castes. Their suffering will provide insights that could lead to significant advances for our society. Surely, you see the value in that?"
Her tone was cold, and every word was designed to paint her as the Senate-approved Senator she pretended to be. Inside, disgust twisted at her spark. The idea of justifying the suffering of those she sought to save made her plating crawl, but she refused to allow her façade to crumble because of few meaningless words.
Torque leaned forward slightly, steepling his servos. "A noble pursuit, of course," he said with false sincerity. "But as you know, the Functionists are... meticulous. Should they catch wind of this operation, I trust you have measures in place to ensure the guild's involvement is never uncovered?"
The femme let out a sharp laugh, leaning back in her chair. "Guildmaster, do you take me for a fool? Do you think I would risk my position without ensuring plausible deniability for all parties involved? The Functionists will see exactly what I want them to see."
Torque studied her for a long klik, optics searching for any hint of deception. She met his gaze unflinchingly, projecting the arrogance and confidence that was often associated with her station.
"And the payment?" he asked finally.
"Transferred to an account of your choosing once the first shipment departs Iacon," Nightwing replied smoothly. "The amount is enough to ensure your guild's cooperation—and loyalty."
The Guildmaster smirked. "Loyalty is a valuable commodity, Senator. Expensive, too."
The senator tilted her helm. "I trust the agreed sum is sufficient to cover the cost."
After a klik, Torque nodded. "Very well. I'll authorize the operation. But understand this, Senator: if there is even a whisper of this reaching the wrong audials, the guild will have no choice but to... distance itself. Permanently."
"Duly noted," Nightwing said, rising gracefully from her chair. "I expect the first transport to depart within the next few breems. You will receive coordinates and instructions shortly."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and strode toward the door, wings and chin held high, even as she crumbled inside. She had succeeded in securing transport for hundreds of low caste Cybertronians, but the risk was far from over.
The femme she knew Torque's loyalty would crumble the klik his own safety was at stake, and that was a dangerous thing in itself. Still, it was a step forward. One step closer to giving those under her care a chance at freedom.
Let them believe I'm just another corrupt senator. She thought grimly, striding out of the guild's headquarters. Let them underestimate me. It's better that way.
Outside, the streets were bustling with the evening crowd, many coming from work and others, high castes like herself, were out shopping or drinking with a friend. Her spark twinged, longing for something like that again. But she quickly stuffed it down. Friends were distractions. They were liabilities.
With a mental command, she brought up the list of her contacts and scrolled through them until she found Whiplash's frequency. She tapped into his line, and a faint static buzz filled her audials before his rich voice cut through.
"Well, well. Senator Nightwing," the AVL agent drawled. "To what do I owe the honor of this almost late-night call? Don't tell me you've finally decided to get your pretty wings dirty."
The femme rolled her optics. "Whiplash, start packing up the eastern perimeter safehouse. Tonight's the night."
The line was silent for a klik, and then his voice returned, sounding surprised. "Primus' bearings, 'Wing. Tonight? You mean now? What happened to needing more time?"
"I'm being efficient," she replied cooly, scanning her surroundings as she walked toward her apartment. "A cycle and a half ago, you were the one pushing me to hurry. What, you thought I'd take a stellar cycle to get this done?"
A shot bark of laughter came from the other end. "Honestly? Yeah. You senators love your drawn-out schedules and dramatic build-ups."
Nightwing bristled but let the comment slide. "You underestimate me," she fired at him. "We don't have the luxury of waiting. Start packing. Make sure every bot in that safehouse is ready to move."
"Noted," he muttered. "Alright, alright. I'll get everyone ready to roll. But you do know what this means, right?"
"Yes, yes," she vented, rubbing her faceplate. "The east perimeter safehouse has about thirty-three," she said after a brief calculation. "The rest will have to wait for the next run."
"That's manageable. Barely. I've sent Relay out; I'll get him to help with the cover-up of why we suddenly left without a word in that apartment we were renting. We'll need to wipe down the safehouse first, though. Any chance you sweet-talked those fraggers at the guild into upping the route security?"
"No, you'll have to handle security on your own," she responded. "Can you manage it?"
Whiplash snorted. "You're talking to the best, Senator. We'll make it happen."
"Good. I'll send you the coordinates and instructions shortly. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point before the transport departs."
"Copy that, 'Wing."
The line went dead.
"Long time no see, archivist," a familiar voice called out through the crowd. "Didn't know you were still hidin' out in this dusty old place."
Orion frowned, searching for his friend's faceplate. He spotted the white, blue and red accented frame walking toward him, noticing the '4' on his chassis, moving through the crowd towards him. When the mech got close enough, he replied, "I'm not hiding, Jazz. I work. The Hall of Records is vital to preserving Cybertron's history."
Jazz snorted, crossing his arms over his chassis. "That so? You an' these datapads got some kinda deep connection I don't know about?"
"Not at all, Jazz," he replied with a soft smile. "I trust you're well?"
"Far as I can be with all the scrap goin' down. Walk with me?"
The pair fell into step, weaving through the bustling crowd that was thinning out for the evening as the sun set deeper, painting the sky in brilliant shades of color.
"You hear 'bout the bombing? The one on the Sentinel Prime statue?" Jazz began, glancing sidelong at Orion. "Council's got their audios to the ground, investigatin'. They think the Decepticons are behind it."
There was a swell of anger at the mention of the name. The Decepticons. Those so-called followers of Megatronus who claimed him as their leader. Orion knew the Champion had explicitly denied any connection to their acts.
The archivist hesitated, swallowing his anger. "I... heard something about it. A bot was killed in the blast, right?"
The memory of the explosion flashed before his optics, painfully clear.
"Yeah," his friend replied. Jazz looked at him and then frowned. "Somethin' on your neural net, Pax? Y' look like you're carryin' somethin' heavy."
"I—it's troubling," he vented, looking back at his friend. "These actions could hurt us, and they could damage any chance of peaceful reforms."
"Can't argue with that. But there's gotta be more to it. These Decepticons—" he paused, frowning. "—they claim your pal Megatronus as their leader. What's he sayin' about all this?"
He had asked himself the same question countless times since the bombing, even though his brother had assured him. "Megatronus has denied any involvement," he said. "He's assured me that he has no connection to these groups."
Jazz raised a ridge. "Huh. Funny, though. He ain't exactly steppin' up to put distance between himself and 'em, is he?"
Orion ex-vented, dispelling some heat that had built up. "No, he isn't. I don't understand why."
"You really believe Megatronus ain't involved?" he questioned, studying his faceplate.
"I do," the librarian said firmly. "I know him. he wouldn't... condone this."
Jazz hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe. But the Council ain't gonna see it that way, and neither's the public. If Megatronus make a stand soon, he's gonna drag down more than just his own name."
Orion stopped walking, turning to face his friend. "He's not like that, Jazz. I... I believe in him."
The cultural investigator placed a servo on his shoulder. "I get it, Pax. You believe in him. Just don't let that belief blind ya. Megatronus may not be guilty, but his silence speaks volumes. And silence can be just as dangerous as words."
The words hit Orion harder than he cared to admit. He looked away, optics scanning the horizon, where the golden towers shimmered against the darkening sky.
"I... was at Trion Square when it happened," the archivist finally said after the silence became unbearable.
"Wait, what?" Orion could practically see his friend's wide optics from behind the visor. "You were there? Frag, Pax, are you alright? Were you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," the librarian admitted. "I was spared the worst of it. But Jazz... this could ruin everything we've worked for."
The white and red mech was silent for a long klik. "Which is why you gotta have a real talk with your buddy. If he's got no ties to these bots, then he's gotta make that clear, loud and public," Jazz finally said. "Otherwise, the Council'll use him as the fall bot—and drag you and everyone else down with him."
He opened his intake to assure his friend, when something caught his optics. A splotch of bright crimson against the dull grey of an alley wall. Jazz's gaze followed his own, not needing a word to say anything. Orion's faceplate said it all.
The archivist moved toward the alley and approached the wall. The crimson paint, smeared and uneven, formed jagged letters across the metal surface. His optics traced the words, noting that it was exactly like the first word on the ground he had seen in Trion Square.
YOU ARE BEING DECEIVED.
His friend came up beside him, servos going to his hipplate. "So, what's this? The Decepticons' new slogan or somethin'?"
Orion opened his intake to retort, but he was interrupted by a sharp bark from the alley, startling the duo. From the shadows of the alley, a large bot—smaller than Megatronus, but tall enough to tower over them—stumbled forward. His plating was scratched and dented, and on his chassis, there was strange, jagged symbol crudely carved onto it. It seemed familiar...
"Hey!" the mech growled, staggering closer to them, obviously overcharged. "What're you two snoopin' 'round here for?"
"Relax, big guy," Jazz said, holding up a servo. "We ain't lookin' for trouble. Just passin' through."
The mech's expression twisted into an ugly scowl. "Passin' through? This is our turf! You don't belong here!" His voice grew louder as he pointed a shaky servo to the wall with the crimson message. "You think you can mess with us? You think you can stop us?"
Orion's spark sank. This wasn't good. He raised his servos, stepping forward. "We don't want any trouble. We'll be out of your way."
The overcharged bot wasn't listening. "Outta my way? Think you're better than me?" He took another step forward, while the archivist and his friend took one back. "You ain't goin' anywhere!"
"Alright," Jazz said quietly, nudging the archivist. "Time to go, Pax. Now."
They tried to back away, but the mech lunged. His servo swung toward Orion, who barely managed to duck out of the way. The impact smashed into the wall behind him, leaving a sizable dent on the wall.
"Frag it!" Jazz growled, stepping in front of Orion. "Guess talkin's outta the question!"
The cultural investigator pushed the librarian to the side and unsheathed his integrated blades on his forearms, slashing at the overcharged mech, who swiped wildly. Jazz swiped and dodged the larger bot's attacks, managing to take out one of the Decepticon sympathizer's optics.
That elicited a roar of pain and the mech swung wildly again, grabbing Jazz by the arm. Orion could only watch in horror as his friend's arm sparked, wires pulling tightly as his arm dislodged. The mech nearly beat him into slag, before the white and blue mech managed to free himself by hitting a vulnerable seam in the overcharged mech's armor.
This only infuriated the mech, who swung wildly, catching Jazz in the chassis, sending him flying into the wall. He peeled off the wall, crumping into a pile of metal, frame sparking as he slipped into stasis.
"Jazz!" Orion shouted, optics wide with panic. He turned back to the mech, spark hammering in his chassis. He had no weapons, no real way to defend himself. The only thing he could do was rely on the training Megatronus had drilled into him, and even then, he wasn't so great at fighting.
The mech's optics locked onto Orion, remembering that he was there. "Your turn, runt," he growled, lumbering toward him.
Orion's balled his servos into fists. He had no choice. He dropped into a defensive stance, trying to recall the moves Megatronus had taught him. As the mech lunged, the archivist dodged to the side, managing to deliver a blow to the mech's side. It didn't do much but hurt his servo. Though it seemed annoy the mech.
The overcharged mech growled, whirling around and lashing out with his claws. Orion ducked again, but the mech's servo clipped him with enough force sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through his side as he scrambled to his pedes, only for the mech to grab him by the arm and hurl him into the wall.
The impact rattled his frame, and he barely had time to recover before the mech was on him again. Orion tried to strike back, but his blows didn't faze the bulky bot. In retaliation, the bot tossed him to the ground and stepped on his leg, eliciting a scream of pain as it was crushed. Error alerts flashed across his HUD, nearly blocking his static filled vison.
He grabbed Orion by the shoulders tightly—that it left dents—and slammed him into the ground repeatedly, each impact sending shockwaves of pain through his frame. The archivist's vision blurred, systems screaming in protest and error messages clouding his vision. He tried to fight back, to resist, but his strength was failing.
The last thing he saw before his world went black was the crimson message on the wall.
YOU ARE BEING DECEIVED.
Oh boy...
Orion really should've paid more attention in 'Combat for Dummies: Fighting 101' with Megatronus. Then again, with his less-than-ideal size and no weapons, he doesn't really have much of a fighting chance unless he turns into some super machine. Which he won't. He's a peace-loving archivist!
I get the feeling that Megatronus isn't going to be happy. Imagine when he finds out that his beloved Orion was beat up by one of his own. What happened to the other two who didn't even hurt the librarian on purpose in the bombing? They probably would've had their helms off, if he had been angrier.
hint hint...
I also got Jazz in! He's pretty awesome, though I feel bad that I got him fragged the first time I introduced him to y'all in an actual scene instead of mentioning him. He's a good friend of Orion, but the archivist hasn't really met up with him because of Megatronus. Possessive little friend he has there...
Anyways, enough of my babbling. Hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)