A/N: I use mostly human terms in relation to my transformers fics. This is mostly due to the fact that such familiar words have a much greater psychological potency. I also believe that Cybertronians have their own form of blood to go with their mass. It always irked me that they bled fuel... it seemed off. While a car may have fuel in it's tanks, it's the converted fuel that serves to run the vehicle; it's the same for any organism. Saying a mech bleeds fuel is too much, to me, like saying a man bleeds food; true in a way, but inaccurate.
Anyway, I blame everyone on for this atrocity, I'll never be normal again...
This is PWP with a bit of plot, more an amusing bout on my own part; I was never good at writing a getaway scene. I hate that Stars never gets to be on top, this is kinda my answer to that and has a bit of both top and bottom in it. I should probably post this on one of my other accounts, so if this bothers you beyond angry flaming and you are more concerned with the rules and regulations of the cite, the innocence of the wee ones blah blah blah; then I will move it without complaint.
Clean up on isle seven!
Summary- If pressed, he would say they had a "give and take" relationship, but he would never say just how well his Starscream had turned manipulation into an art form. The question of dominance however was studiously avoided by the decepticons as a whole.
How does he do that?
As far as Megatron was concerned, the seeker looked ridiculous. The mech was fettered and gaged, his wings bound behind his back in a thick clamp and his whole body wrapped in thick restraints. He was blindfolded, bound from head to clawed toe and strapped to a dolly as he was wheeled into the holding cell two cells down from his own.
Megatron doubted even a turbo fox could wiggle it's way out of all that.
He let out a short huff of air through his vents as he lay on his berth, watched how the five soldiers "escorting" the seeker to his cell flinched and turned to glare at him. Megatron looked down to his cuffed hands and wondered just how stupid these Autobot's really where. Didn't they know who the real threat was? It was almost insulting...
He watched them through the bars of his cell as they secured the dolly to the middle of the cell with thick clamps and then he watched them go, red eyes never ceasing in their unfortunately impotent glare.
As time passed he took the opportunity to re-think his position. The raid had been a disaster, the fact that he'd been captured was even more disastrous. He growled to himself, a deep resonance in his chest, it had been a lucky shot followed by an accidental knee in the groin from none other than the magnanimous prime himself that had taken him down. The look on his face had shown surprise, embarrassment, and no small amount sympathy; obviously the mech had been expecting a more graceful dodge from his opponent.
In the end, war was war, and one couldn't exactly call a time out in the middle of a war so he'd been forced to gimp his way through the fight with a rather nasty give in his left hip joint and an ugly knee shaped dent in his interface panel. It was only on the retreat that his hip joint had given out on him and cost him the return trip.
In conclusion: it was all Starscream's fault... somehow...
He picked at the fresh weld line on his thigh and upper hip, that damned medic of theirs had taken no little pleasure in having him sedated for his work and the thought of an Autobot audience to the repair of his hip joint and interfacing equipment was no little blow to his ego either. He couldn't deny a job well done though, even if it was weird and annoying as frag that he still couldn't feel his backside.
It was by about the time he'd regained feeling in his right buttock that he began to hear a strange high-pitched scratching noise. Seeing as the seeker wasn't moving and was both gagged, blindfolded, and sedated, he wrote it off as the ambiance of an old prison cell. Speaking of said seeker, Megatron really had no idea just how or why Starscream had been captured. Oh well, he'd wring him out for it later when Soundwave negotiated his release. It was all just further proof that this whole slag-up was Starscream's fault anyway.
It got better as time went by, his wounds no longer hurt but his pride was more than bruised, he eventually got enough feeling back in him to be able to move his left leg properly again. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? It mostly depended on just how long he had been sedated but in the end he supposed it didn't matter; Soundwave could take care of things at the base for a while. Eventually he took to pacing around his small cell, getting his feet back under him, the strange high-pitched hiss of metal in the background was beginning to grate on his nerves. He wheeled about to locate the source of the irritation but couldn't find it, not from the vents, not from the energy field and not from speaker systems either. Sitting back on his berth, he was about ready to chew through his restraints in combined frustration and desperation when there was a loud clank from the other end of the small cell block.
He looked over to find the seekers custom bit and mask had clattered to the floor and watched as the seekers lithe body wriggled in it's bindings in an almost hypnotic fashion. A small pin emerged from his mouth, held between his sharp teeth, he jammed the pin into the locking mechanism of his collar. Slowly working his way down with tooth and lock-pick it was only a short time before the seekers upper body was mostly free and he could turn his attention to the fetters along his arms, hands, and front. Watching the slim mech roll the tiny steel pick along his teeth and slick silver tongue as he contorted himself free inch by inch Megatron was treated to the odd sensation of arousal while semi numb. His brow ridges reached new heights as the seeker, upper body now free, contorted himself nearly in half, backwards, still blindfolded, to pick open the wing clamps at his back. Metal bindings, straps and chains fell to the floor like raindrops with a generous metal clinking as the seeker worked along his body with nimble hands.
He swore under his breath, he'd never seen anyone bend like that, the heaving rise and fall of controlled breathing, a slim leg sliding free to allow a slow, graceful backflip that saw his other leg free as well. Falling into a beautiful crouch that ended with the seeker on spread knees, blindfolded still and thick, powerful steel thighs shimmering in the dim light as one by one he picked out the pins of the cuffs at his wrists and ankles, all while perched on the top of the dolly. Now, free of his bonds, curved claws made short work of the blindfold about his eyes and, once gone, Megatron was treated to a smug, salacious toothy smirk; the fox in the henhouse, a grin that held promises as he hopped down from his roost. In fluid motion the once bound seeker stood, flaring his wings as he came to full height, all grace, and turned to look at Megatron with a downright lascivious burn in deep red optics.
A game well played as far as the seeker was concerned, so he decided to treat himself and draw out the fun a little longer, after all; all work and no play...
First one slim leg followed by the liquid roil of round hips, arms in the air and body stretched upward as if hung out on a rack. Standing on the very tips of narrow peds, wings held high and flat, barely with a breath, the seeker contorted, wriggled and slid his sleek countenance through thick cell bars, barely touching the energon charged rungs, the energy burn a sparking sliding tingle along his neural net. Megatron was too shocked to be surprised or upset; rather than work his way free the damn seeker had simply wriggled his way into the cell next to his own!
Still, much of him was far more preoccupied with thoughts of just how those hips would writhe on his lap.
-How does he do that?-
The seekers intent became crystal clear when the mech locked his gaze to him with a cocky grin and walked his way across the cell , slowly beginning to slide his way through the cell bars that separated them, never once breaking that burgundy eye contact. Smooth metal was showered in sparks as once again the seeker wriggled his was through. First a long leg followed by a languid curve up to the hips, peeking through the gap, wings up, arms up, standing on the tips of armored toes and slender belly arching, twisting and curving in follow through with the motion. In less than a moment the show was over and though disappointing, it didn't matter, he'd been smart enough to save it memory and damned if that file wasn't gonna see some run time. So there he sat, on the edge of a prison cell berth, wrists bound, staring suspiciously as the seeker waltzed right up to him and set his slim clawed digits lightly on either side of his helm, barely grazing him. The young slender creature set supple lips just barely touching his own, he could feel hot breath cycling along his chest and facial plates as he stared into the crimson blood that was the seekers eyes. With a toothy grin that seemed as if to split his face in half the sly seeker set both his hands upon the other's chest and shoved. Megatron, hands still neatly bound and having been caught more than a little off his guard, could do nothing save flail indignantly with an angry shout as he toppled off the side of the berth, coming to a stop wedged neatly between it and the wall. This was not only annoying but mortifying; he couldn't move, neatly folded in two against the back cell wall as he was, great legs stuck in the air like signposts. Great! He was gonna be offlined in this damned cell by his damned second in the most damned ridiculous way ever!
He all but snarled at the bastard seeker as Starscream leaned over the edge of his berth, perched like a gargoyle, leaning down with that same infuriating grin. Megatron was about to grind off the mech's audials and curse him down to his ball-bearings when the seeker suddenly grabbed him by the ankles. With a shove of dextrous clawed toes and powerful legs the seeker toppled the heavy metal berth and, still holding him up by the ankles triumphantly, dipped down to lick at the plated junctions of his codpiece and thighs. Oh the look on his face must have been soooo perfect, if the seekers response was anything to go by. The bastard was unbelievably good at this, licking and sucking, he even managed a charge of sparks along his teeth! He couldn't quite hold back a moan when the seeker slid his tongue in between the armor to lap at delicate sensitive circuitry that was disturbingly close to his valve cover.
When was the last time he'd fragged someone? Primus on a stick it must have been forever...
With a genuine smile that would have normally unnerved him and a low murmur the seeker nudged the cover aside with his teeth and a barely audible click of armored plating.
Honestly though, he really couldn't blame anyone but Starscream for this mess...
Megatron roared and flailed and cursed, putting up quite a struggle despite his position but it didn't seem like the laws of physics would be willing to bend for him as they had his second; he just wasn't built to be that flexible. He could feel the seekers hot breath on his exposed valve and it didn't take long to have his mouth on him again. A sly lick with a hot wet tongue along his entrance broke his murderous train of thought with a jerk of the hips and a yelp. The where, when and why became a moot point the second a sly brush of the lips and glossa became a mad delving surge and before he knew it he was gnashing teeth and howling. Thin claws worked between armor seams as they trailed downward and he thrashed against the wall, his second doing so many unspeakable wonderful things with that beautiful mouth and traitorous tongue that was so uniquely Starscream. His legs draped over the other's shoulders as telling, lurid, wet sounds filled the cell and, hands still bound behind him, Megatron slid to the floor a writhing howling mess on his back. Another click and his spike sprang free of it's binding, leaking and hard as the bastard leant forward to lick him from base to tip. Turning his attention to his leader's stiff spike he slowly lapped and caressed and suckled the length before taking it into his mouth whole. Given that there were some things in life that he had never expected from his second, one of those said things being that Starscream, his Starscream, would ever, ever, suck him off; he felt his reactions were justified.
The fight seemingly drained out of him with a long deep moan as he shook fitfully, Starscreams terribly skilled self working him over like an energon treat. He slowly sucked and nibbled, running the fat spike along his tongue and teeth until all of Megatron's world narrowed to incoherent sobs of pleasure. Hands at his thighs the seeker dug claws into his neural net and manipulated boiling hot massflesh to near liquid ecstasy. Two slim digits, claws retracted, snaked up to play along his valve, the over sensitive sensory nodes burning for attention. As he slowly sucked and licked he set his dextrous hands to work, thrusting into his leaders leaking valve again and again, turning moans into drunken cries of ecstasy, he wouldn't last much longer. Two digits became three, scissoring his tight, underused valve and stretching him to a pleasant burning. Dimly, past his own writhing and howling, he heard another click, that torturous tongue leaving his spike with a final lick and nip as something hard pressed against his dripping aft. He barley had time for a drunken confused moan before that hardness found its way inside him. It burned, he hadn't been spiked in ages and winced as he was stretched. The seeker stilled and hummed, he was rather large for his kind and knew it, this wasn't vengeance or betrayal, this was pleasing a lover into a puddle of blissful delirium; something Starscream prided himself on and what he prided himself on he made certain was impeccable. A slow slick thrust had the warlord shaking again and, ever one to enjoy the tormenting of a lover, the seeker steadied and worked a slow even rhythm. Breathing hard, smooth hot abdominal plates sliding over his leaking spike, the seeker thrust in hard again and again and Megatron couldn't help but jerk his hips to meet the other, the burning in his overstretched port becoming a slick stream of spasms and electricity up his spinal struts. The seeker canted his hips, one of Megatron's legs wrapped around his torso, driving in hard with a growl, filling him completely with a hot throbbing spike that set his innards on fire, striking deep as he moaned and screamed. He writhed, he didn't know just what the bastard had hit inside him, never felt anything like it, but it was amazing! Sweet smelting pit! His insides clenched, valve rippling in spasms, intakes stalling, well on his way to a mind blowing overload as sense fled to wanton riding. It didn't take long as the warlord was filled, smoothing over slick sensory nodes inside him he didn't even know he had and the seekers delicate ministrations and deep thrusting had him arched in bliss and screaming. It felt like he was going to explode, like his mass was boiling and he was gonna burst! He was gonna- brightness peeked between thick armored plates and bolts of static arced like plasma- Megatron shook and roared as lightning danced along his frame and played his neural net like a fine tuned instrument, chest-plates spasming open and closed. It was with pure rapture and utter relief that he came all down the front of his second's abdominal plating, leaking valve clamping down tight on a thick spike. Slick with pale silver transfluid, the panting seeker leant forward to swallow his moans and overloaded into him with a jerk of luscious hips and a muffled shriek. The sensation of searing hot transfluid spilling into every bit of him sending the warlord into an immediate second overload marked by the juddering of his body and total tangible bliss as they collapsed over one another.
For a while the two simply lay still on top of one another, Megatron coming down shakily from a high he hadn't had in ages as they panted to vent heat, the two of them an obscene pile of hot metal and lubricants. Of course he'd have to kill his second for this mutiny but that could wait until the feeling came back in his arms.
How long had they been laying here now?
Where were those damn Autobots?
…Where were the security cameras?
His fingers tingled, static clung to his sides, too tired to move he was halfway to recharge as sensor after sensor readjusted itself to come back online after such an intense overload. He groaned and twitched as he watched the fliers wings sway out of the corner of his optic.
Five more minutes... then he'd kill the bastard...
Still panting the seeker moved, lithe form crawling up his frame to the locks of the cuffs at his wrists and before long, with wet teeth and tongue, Starscream had picked the locks open. -well no wonder-
Panels clicking closed like a playful dare, the seeker met his gaze with a smirk of full lips and cabernet eyes brimming with wanton lust. -come and get me-
Oh that bastard was gonna get it.
Before long they were a lazy tangle of limbs and soft touches and sloppy kisses, slowly losing himself to the intoxicating scent of ozone and oil that was Starscream, he was more than set to even the score; body be damned. He nipped and sucked along the crook of the seekers slim neck, kissing and biting his marks into the nimble fliers supple derma. There was something of a high-pitched moan, to his credit it probably wasn't him, as one of those long legs came up along his grey flanks and dug along the seems of his armor. There was no telling how long the ravishing had lasted, only that he hadn't had enough, he was hot again and cycling hard but the seeker was already pulling back, red eyes beckoning.
Fine, if Starscream wanted to play he could play right back. No sane mech did that and expected to just walk away; especially if they did it to him. Megatron stood to follow, claws clutching madly, numbness almost entirely gone unto twitching excitement, and grabbed onto the cocky seeker by the sharp edge of a wing, leading him into another brutal kiss. His thumb stung as the blade-like metal cut him, a small bead of blood welling to the surface as he kissed and nibbled his way along with sharp nips and licks, teeth and wet tongue working under plating. The visual was beyond pleasing, the seeker seemed as if to submit, and the effect was quite nice. Distantly, he remembered that he was supposed to be angry at Starscream for some reason or another but right now it all seemed rather... petty.
He hummed and growled as the seeker took his bleeding thumb into his mouth and sucked, hips and thighs roiling against his belly and spike as the seeker wriggled and maneuvered them around. A big black hand to the seekers head brought that heady mouth back to his lips and neck where it belonged, playing with shivering ailerons and pinching the tips of long silvered wings as he turned the seeker only to be caught by the back of his knees and twirled about to their previous position. Temperatures rose as long fine fingers danced along grey armor, worked under seams and somehow seemed able to find every hot spot on his frame. Broad shoulders shook, condensation forming along armor to drip to the floor, Primus below it felt as if his very breath would fog the air. The seeker moaned and writhed against him, scorching, smooth outer plating and burning interface panelling and long sharp curves and begging. That damn seeker's begging had never sounded so good before, it was in his very breath, pushing into him, kissing long and hard and needy.
"Please, please my lord!"
Taking his hand from the broad expanse of wings, dancing and plucking along edged spinal struts, it came to rest along the inside pathway of long powerful thighs, fingers running along the seams of a hot panel and finding moisture that couldn't all be attributed to the environment.
The seeker bucked and moaned, long, loud and scratchy and damned if he'd ever heard something so nice from the traitor's smooth lips. He hummed with a slow chuckle, drunk with lurid power as the sultry flyer seemed desperate for that delicious friction that only he seemed to make, long thin digits and claws reaching and touching and tweaking, catching the larger mechs breath in his throat with his teeth, playing his body like he knew him.
Something wet dripped to the floor and Megatron's black hand became slick on something thick and clear blue that smelled positively delicious. Tongues tangled, moaning, hot and heady, he growled low as a distinct click could be heard and more of that wonderful scent and sound followed through, it was so thick in the air he could swear he could taste it. Paneling removed he was shown the lithe seeker completely bare, a thick swollen spike and a slick port with clear lubricant trailing it's way down powerful steel thighs. Running his hand along that smooth path of silver lead to a hot wet port and decadent moans along his throat. He tapped one of his digits along the outer rim of that wet heat, running a finger along the underbelly of an erect spike and was answered with gasping and rasped moans and desperate bucking a wondrous friction along his front that made his already tight paneling even tighter, his own swollen spike making it's wants very well known. Who was he to deny himself this beautiful treat? To deny the simple Decepticon pleasure of getting even?
Delving in first one digit, then quickly followed by another, his hand was soon soaked in that viscous heady wetness that was so very much Starscream as thick digits scissored open a tight entrance that felt like heaven even on his hands for Primus sake. Moaning and screeching as the seeker tried desperately to stay standing, wantonly trying so much to drive himself onto the others black fingers despite Megatron not letting him, smirking at the flustered beauty that was a needy Starscream.
Irritated and aroused the seeker bit the others bottom lip hard and unforgiving only to receive a quick smack on the aft for his impatience. He shrieked indignantly, surprised, and bit the others shoulder, receiving another sharp slap along pert reddened plating that drove him onto large digits with a laugh in his ear as he wriggled and mewled and nipped. Finally the mech couldn't take it anymore himself, hard spike standing to attention and throbbing in the cold air, a drop of clear pre-fluid at the tip. The seeker brought his hot belly and cracked cockpit down onto Megatron and writhed. The smoothest seams he'd ever seen, round hips and luscious curves and molten hot metal snaked along his stiff want and the larger mech finally lost his balance, falling onto the floor by the electrified bars of his own cell door. Holy frag, Unicron in a hand-basket, he'd never had anyone do that before. The seeker hummed and bucked, a light smear of pre-fluid beneath his cockpit and lubricant along his hips and belly, lust in red wine eyes as he spread his thighs wide over the two fingers still at his entrance and the spike begging to be buried into that tight wet heat.
He was beginning to wonder just who had control in this little meeting of minds but he was too far gone to care as the seeker licked and suckled along swollen mass and abdominal plates. A little to urgently for himself, he withdrew slick fingers with a slight tremor and lined his aching spike up with the seekers well lubricated port, he needed it so bad it hurt. He canted his armored hips to the side and set the tip of his spike into the seekers port, the swollen metal and massflesh grabbing onto him, tight, as the flyer keened and begged incoherently.
"Pleasepleaseplease- Me- Megatron!"
Broad arms shaking and cycling air fast and hard he watched the seeker come completely undone, trembling, sobbing and begging, wings shaking as he cursed and cried out, hips still held in place by two large, implacable matte-black hands. The torture finally ended with a powerful thrust that had the mech buried into that tight wet warmth to the halfway point and frag was it tight! The seeker screeched as he buried himself to the hilt and stilled to allow him to adjust to the size. Frag, frag, frag, and a dozen times frag; it was hot and tight, lubricant ran down the base of his spike as swollen wet walls flexed and pulsed around his throbbing spike, head falling back onto the floor with a long deep moan. How could anyone be so damn tight?
A wince and a roll of the flyers hips had his vision going white and told him it was safe to move as slim arms snaked around his waist. He bucked into that oh so tight port and began a thrusting pace that drove them both mad, the seeker bringing thin claws to work at his back and snake under plating and into crevices he didn't even know he had and damned if it didn't feel incredible. Black hands caught Starscream's pretty little impaled aft as they worked into a rhythm of desperate pounding and needy moans.
There was a humm and the sound of something shifting as jet engines roared to life and shook him to his core. No one could ever find out about this debauchery; about how high his vocals could go and just how wide his optics could get. Frankly though, he wasn't quite thinking of that at the moment; he'd been around in his time, had his fare share of aft and regretted little of it but... damn sweet Unicron's planetary panties...
At this point it was all about saving face, he wouldn't allow himself to be so outdone, and a quick blow to the seekers helm had him back on equal footing with engines down and face to face with a scandalous smiling seeker and raspy laughs. A harsh biting kiss and a quick thrust shut the slick bastard up and it wasn't long before they where back into their rhythm. A chorus of delicious wet slapping and grinding sounds echoed along the brig with the seekers musical moans as the speed picked up, trails of lubricant sliding over powerful thighs and paths of condensation run into the flooring. The seeker screamed into his throat as he canted his hips and thrust hard, taking that soaking heat and tight port from a better, deeper angle. Starscream's whole body shook as he rode his leader, thighs and hips roiling up to give better access as he sat up on the others lap and bent almost completely backwards, long legs intertwined about large thrusting hips and an arched silver grey torso. Hands and claws held out, whole body twisted and curved and sparking along the energized bars; He watched the seeker writhe and curl and he was doing something with his upper half damn near through the bars but damned if he could give a slag about that. Sweating beads of coolant and condensation he put forward the monumental effort needed to stand as a long lithe leg draped over his shoulder, held by a large black hand, the other wrapped about his torso, a thruster heel digging into his back. Those long legs pulled him forward hard and fast and with a loud shriek the pulsing port came down hard on his spike, the seeker contorting himself half in and half out through the cell bars as electricity arched and spat. Hot transfluid filled the seeker as Megatron came hard into his aft, hitting that lovely center inside him again and again with loud rolling moans that vibrated all the way up to his spark chamber.
The seeker worked thick thighs, hips roiling, pleasuring himself through his own overload against the spike inside him, his own spike oozing transfluid across the others flanks in sympathy. There was a loud clank and shift as the cell door came tumbling to the floor, taking the both of them with it.
Starscream, pulling himself loose, spilling silver, and slipping the rest of the way through the deactivated bars, turned to lay on his back with a contented sigh. Megatron lay on his side, watching him with dim red eyes that screamed satiety and a smug sardonic and rather self-satisfied smirk, simply deciding that killing Starscream over something like this would be a terrible waste of a wonderful aft so long as no one ever found out about it.
Nice, definitely worth the extra time... he'd have to allow himself to be captured with Starscream more often.
Now all they had to do was get out of here, but with the living lock-pick, it shouldn't be too hard... just five more minutes...
There it was again, that fox in the hen house grin along dark lips, Megatron gave a non-comital grunt as he was determined to at least bask in the afterglow of a good overload before getting hauled into another trap. The seeker sat up with a sultry purr, stretched and flipped over backwards in his seat on the brig floor, heels up.
There was a bell like sound and a crunch as a silvery sharp thruster-heel dug into a small red box on the wall.
It really was surprising just how wide his optics could become.
The sound of glass falling onto steel flooring was broken by the electronic wail of the Ark's alarm systems, the world around him flickering in peals of red light and darkness, all he could really make out was the cheshire grin and pointed teeth of his second before the seeker vanished in the strobes. Trust Starscream to make everything interesting for him. With a curse he scrambled to his feet, pulled his paneling back into place and bolted for the door. There was no trace of his second and it wouldn't be long before the Autobots started coming after him so it was voted best and wisest, unanimously, to go with the old decepticon fall-back plan: run like hell.
-How does he do that?-
He was going to kill that damned seeker!
The lights flickered, alarm systems blaring as Megatron charged through corridors one after another; heading straight for the space-bridge warp gate. Intel said it should be somewhere around B-deck, it wouldn't be too hard to find, something with such massive power needs wasn't that easily hidden. Though his fusion cannon had been forcibly deactivated, he was far from helpless as the gladiator stuck true to his roots an barreled head-on into the first Autobot he could find. Oddly enough it didn't seem like Inferno had expected to find him, they were probably expecting his second if the look on his face was anything to go by. That's why it was with no little surprise that Megatron rammed the mech into a nice newly minted Inferno-shaped dent in the wall. The sirens cut out as the mech fell to the floor, optics dark with unconsciousness, he could only surmise that Starscream had somehow hacked into the Ark's security systems and was happily giving them all hell. Stopping his running he dumbly came face-to-face with a small bright yellow post-it note stuck to the wall of the corridor he was in. There was an arrow pointing to the left, it read: "this way stupid"
-How does he do that?-
Against his better judgement, he followed the advice left behind for him, denting a few Autobot helms as he went until he found another post-it. This one was bright green and read: "security cameras aren't very secure." With a put-upon sigh, hearing the sound of a large number of approaching mechs, he tore off the post-it and ran for the most logical path to lead him to the transporter; a long, wide hallway with huge power cables along the ceiling. He'd been running for longer than he would have liked, he was low on energy and the Autobot's had to be closing in on his location by now. Sirens cut in and out sporadically with the lights, he could hear cursing in the distance as malfunction after malfunction had doors and hatches opening, engines sputtering throughout the Ark and the fire suppression systems spewing foam and water. Lost in a sea of that white foam for a short while, Megatron soon came to a dead-end in the hall, a bright red post-it with an arrow pointing to what must have been a door, falling through the hatchway as it opened. He shook the ridiculous clods of foam from his body with a growl, examining the huge room top to bottom. The sirens cut out again, there was a brief whistling wail and a small explosion.
The room was big, this had to be it; lots of power cables and lots of computer terminals and an unconscious Wheeljack with a lead pipe lodged firmly in a painful looking dent in his helm.
"What kept you?"
He jolted, whipping around to glare at his second who lay reclined on one of the large pieces of machinery in the room; perfectly at home. Dropping to the floor with a click of thruster-heels the seeker walks with a sultry sway of the hips, running thin clawed digits along the keys of one of the terminals, footsteps coming to a stop on blackened steel grating, smirking all the way. Electricity darts through the room and with a great bang that has him shielding his optics and audials the slim creature is gone, replaced by a window of bright green energy.
Well, it was now or never and with a grunt Megatron followed his second through the ground-bridge to who-knows-where.
The first thing his body registered was the sensation of falling, the next being that of pain and steel flooring as he landed back-side up and upside-down on the Nemesis' floor paneling. He stood, shaking off the loss of equilibrium, orienting himself. He appeared to be in the Nemesis break-room, having fallen from the heights of the ceiling and onto the benches below. Looking around he was met only with the blank stares and surprised faces of his own soldiers who had, at one point before their rather unscheduled meeting, been consuming their rations. Megatron rolled off of the collapsed remains of their table with a grunt and, standing with a flourish to maintain what little was left of his dignity at this point, marched off to the command center, kicking off debris and small clods of foam as he went.
Silently glaring from mech to mech, his soldiers obviously hadn't expected to see him, he walked ahead, daring anyone or anything to get in his way or say anything about his appearance. The doors to the command center parted with a hiss, Megatron coming to a stop before the shocked countenance of his men and turning to the main console. In the future, he'd have to give Soundwave more credit, the mech was already knee-deep in negotiations with prime and seemed to be holding his own.
"Nothing is going-"
Prime, midway through trying to bluff his way through Soundwave's sharp talk and several intermittent alarms, came to an abrupt stop as he met Megatrons glare. Covered in dents, bits of rec-room table, what appeared to be dried lubricants at his waist and lumps of fire-suppressant foam at his feet; Megatron would be the first person to admit the peculiarity of the situation, albeit quietly and angrily. Still, as he locked gazes with the open mouthed autobot commander, there was a distinct air of "don't ask, don't tell" as the army saying goes.
Soundwave turned to him with his usual deadpan stare, turning back to Optimus if only to stare at the screen.
There was a brutal pause.
"Negotiations: no longer necessary."
Soundwave was about to cut off the connection when they heard the prime sigh with what could only generously be called exasperation.
"This is Starscream's fault. Isn't it?"
The big blue and red armored mech turned away, back to the screen and palm to his forehead, allowing a glimpse of the bright pink post-it stuck to the back of his head. It read: "Always"
-How does he do that?-