[IDW] Break the Chain 10/10
Dec. 10th, 2018 06:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Break the Chain
Universe: Mostly IDW with bits of others Characters: Prowl, Original Character(s), Megatron, Starscream, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Barricade, Soundwave, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe
Rating: M
Warnings: Political Shenanigans, Brief Moment of Sexual Content, Murder Mystery, Machinations, Twincest, Extremely Minor Character Death
Description: Desperate to bring some much needed tactical assistance to the Decepticon uprising, Megatron attempts to recruit Prowl, an outcast Enforcer with a frame exemption. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, political machinations are at work to stem the Decepticon tide and turn Cybertron back to the preferred status quo.
Commission for an anonymous person.
Chapter Ten
There are a number of messages crowding his inbox.
None of them are from Shockwave. No one has seen Shockwave since Prowl last spoke with him. He’s officially a missing persons.
There’s a warrant out for Prowl’s arrest. This does not come as a shock. That he’s made it into the top ten most wanted does. He’s knocked the former number ten – a serial murderer with a penchant for consuming his victim’s brain modules – out of the running. They’ve slapped him into sixth place, between some mech named Turmoil and below another mech who had a nasty habit of reprogramming rich citizens in order to steal their credits.
The level of crime priority is seriously out of order.
Prowl has nowhere to go, save here in the Decepticons. There is always the possibility he could arrange for a less than legal flight off planet. He could run to the stars, live in the outer rim, work on a salvage ship or for some alien civilization. If he runs far enough, he might even find a Cybertronian colony that’s been out of contact with Cybertron for so long it doesn’t remember how to get back.
He’d rather stay here. At least on Cybertron, as a Decepticon, he might be able to make a difference.
One of the messages is from Orion Pax. It’s short, blunt, to the point. It’s less an offer and more of a reminder. If he’s willing to come back, to do things right, Orion is willing to work his case, to help him fight.
Prowl’s tempted. For one long, vent-stalled moment, he’s tempted. He thinks about fighting, regaining his position, his honor, his respect. He thinks of getting his brands back, being an Enforcer again. Solving crimes, protecting the innocent…
The temptation passes between one vent and the next. He could fight, yes. But he has no faith in succeeding, no matter Orion’s support. Their superiors have already decided what will become of Prowl, and with Senator Shockwave missing as well, Prowl has no hope of finding anyone with influence to stand by his side.
No, there’s not a future for him out there. Not anymore.
Prowl sighs and deletes the message from Orion Pax. He doubts there will be another.
His door chimes.
Prowl rises to answer it, still impressed by the living quarters they’ve given him. The hab is small, but functional, and has everything he needs. They bring him his energon as needed and a fully stocked cabinet lets him flavor it to his liking. He’s allowed to roam their current base of operations – it apparently moves around quite frequently – but Prowl has yet to do so.
The badge of an Enforcer still graces his sensory panels. He doesn’t know how others might react to that.
The door opens to Megatron standing on the other side of it. His smile is light, easy. He’s carrying a cube of energon in each hand, and one he offers to Prowl.
“I thought you might be interested in something a bit stronger than the standard fare,” he says.
Prowl gives the energon a tentative sniff. Oh, it’s engex, not standard grade. It gives off a sweet and tangy scent, something tart in the aftermath. It’s quite potent. One cube is not enough to inebriate him, but it will offer a pleasant buzz.
“Thank you,” Prowl says. “And not just for the engex.”
“For retrieving you from Enforcer custody? There’s no need to thank me for that.” Megatron’s weight shifts, his gaze flickering over Prowl’s shoulders before focusing on him again. “We haven’t had a chance to speak since your arrival. If you’re not otherwise occupied, care to join me?”
Prowl’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “I have no duties and nothing to do. I can’t see what would make me busy.” He steps into the hall, the door sliding shut behind him. “Lead the way.”
Megatron turns to the right, and Prowl falls in step beside him. The Decepticon current base of operations can best be described as an abandoned hotel. Prowl’s not precisely sure where it is, save that his planetary positioning system puts him somewhere in Tesarus.
“I recognize that while we liberated you, so to speak, it may present an obligation to join our cause,” Megatron begins while they walk, his tone conversational. “I want to reassure you that is not the case. Our previous communication may have indicated that’s the path you wanted to take, but I want you to know, it’s not a requirement.”
Prowl tilts his head. “Oh, really? You’ll let me stay with the Decepticons and not be a part of them?”
Megatron chuffs an amused vent. “Well, no. If you don’t want to be a Decepticon, we’ll happily provide you safe transport to wherever else you might want to go. I just want you to understand that our rescue of you does not place you under an obligation to join us.”
“I see.” Prowl is amused despite himself. It’s fair enough. He tucks the engex into a compartment and clasps his hands behind his back. “I don’t require transportation elsewhere. I’m still intent on joining your… crusade.”
“That’s good news.” Megatron hums in his intake, and if Prowl had to identify the tone of it, he’d call it pleased.
Well, in for a credit, in for a stick.
“I do have some caveats,” Prowl says.
“I suspected as much.” They step into a lift, with Megatron selecting the top floor.
The doors close, and the lift creaks upward, the kind of creak of equipment still functional, but hasn’t seen an upgrade in decades.
“What are they?” Megatron prompts as he turns to face Prowl.
He watches the numbers climb upward instead. “I am not here to be a trophy or a rallying cry or any other useless position,” Prowl says, because he’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much. “I want something real. I want influence. I want a position that accords me a chance to help guide the Decepticons.”
In his peripherals, Megatron tilts his head. “What makes you think I ever intended otherwise?”
Prowl slants him a look. “I’m acutely aware I don’t come from the same circumstances as the rest of your leadership cadre. I don’t see them trusting me. I don’t see them willingly letting someone like me have any kind of say.”
“Mmm. Fair point.” Megatron hums.
The lift bobs as it stops on the top floor. Megatron leads them out, but only to the nearest door with a locked panel. He keys it open, and a burst of humid, smoky air rushes in to meet Prowl. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s shockingly different from the odors of Iacon.
They step onto the roof of a building high enough to look out onto the city, but not so high as to be above it all. A thick belt of smog hangs overhead from the factories in the distance, and a thin layer of ash and grit coats everything in sight.
Despite it, Prowl’s sensory panels flex, extending and retracting, twitching up and down, as if the freedom of the roof is so much more than that of his small room.
“The truth is that from the moment I decided to contact you, it was with the intention of recruiting you into my command cadre,” Megatron says as he moves to the edge of the roof, lined by a railing that crests at Megatron’s hips and is the perfect height for Prowl to lean against it to peer into the streets below. “Everyone was aware of this.”
Prowl leans his elbows on the rail and looks over at Megatron. “And they approved?”
“Eventually.” Megatron’s lips curl before he sips his engex. “Starscream took the most persuading, but it’s more because he’s inherently suspicious and distrustful. In the end, your capabilities swayed him.”
“My capabilities. Right.” Prowl doesn’t bother to conceal his snort. “My inability to acquire a promotion would suggest otherwise.”
Megatron slants him a look. “That is on the idiocies of your superiors and does not reflect your capabilities in the slightest.” He faces Prowl, hip canted against the railing. “The Decepticons, this revolution, it needs you, Prowl. Your expertise. Your clear thinking. Your tactical acumen. Your understanding of the common Cybertronian and political cogs.”
Prowl squares his jaw. He pulls out the engex and gives it a sip. The engex bubbles over his glossa, sweet and tart. It’s expensive, he wagers. He’s never tasted it before, but he could enjoy it again for sure.
It’s probably stolen.
It doesn’t even bother him.
“I want to make a difference,” Prowl finally says, looking over the railing into Tesarus, the buildings all the same dull grey as the smoky ash in the sky. It’s probably decades and decades worth of contamination that’s accumulated. “I want things to change. If that means becoming a Decepticon, so be it. But not if you don’t heed my advice. Not if you don’t realize your current path is unsustainable.”
Megatron turns and leans on the railing as well, his large hands curling against it, the engex gone, perhaps fully consumed. “It would have been pointless to recruit you without heeding your advice. I wanted you as a part of us specifically because we needed your point of view.”
Something in Prowl’s spark squeezes tight. He isn’t sure what to name it.
“Then I’m in,” he says. “Give me a seat at your table. Give me a voice. Give me a badge. And I’m yours.” He pauses, winces. “And by that, I mean I will be a Decepticon.”
Megatron chuckles and tilts his head to look at Prowl. “Does that agreement come with friendship?”
Prowl tries not to cringe. “If you know anything about my history, friendship is the last of what you’ll want from me.”
Just ask Barricade.
Then again, perhaps Barricade is not the best source of information. Their parting had been brought about by failures on both sides of the equation.
“I try not to judge based on past accusations, only present and future actions,” Megatron replies. “I’d be honored to be called your friend.” He half-turns, offering Prowl a hand. “Unless, of course, you can’t bear befriending a Decepticon.”
Prowl snorts. “It’s a little late for that.” He clasps hands with Megatron, the Decepticon leader’s handshake firm and uncompromising. “Friends and allies then.”
“Friends and allies,” Megatron confirms.
He draws back, rests his forearms on the rail, and looks out over Tesarus. It’s a dreary, dirty city. It’s not going to be home, because Prowl’s sure they’ll be moving on from here at some point. It’s never wise to be easily found.
Even if it is to be home, well, Prowl won’t be too upset about it. Home is what you make of it, and Iacon has only been a place to exist, not a place to live. He already feels freer, with this minor act of rebellion, even with a price on his head, and lies spreading through the communication network faster than a communicable disease.
Friends and allies, Prowl ruminates.
It’s about time he acquired both.
***
a/n: And that's it for Break the Chain, or at least this arc of it. There's plenty of room for other arcs, as soon as I can find the time to get to them. Phew.
As always, feedback is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. :)
Universe: Mostly IDW with bits of others Characters: Prowl, Original Character(s), Megatron, Starscream, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Barricade, Soundwave, Sunstreaker/Sideswipe
Rating: M
Warnings: Political Shenanigans, Brief Moment of Sexual Content, Murder Mystery, Machinations, Twincest, Extremely Minor Character Death
Description: Desperate to bring some much needed tactical assistance to the Decepticon uprising, Megatron attempts to recruit Prowl, an outcast Enforcer with a frame exemption. Meanwhile, behind the scenes, political machinations are at work to stem the Decepticon tide and turn Cybertron back to the preferred status quo.
Commission for an anonymous person.
There are a number of messages crowding his inbox.
None of them are from Shockwave. No one has seen Shockwave since Prowl last spoke with him. He’s officially a missing persons.
There’s a warrant out for Prowl’s arrest. This does not come as a shock. That he’s made it into the top ten most wanted does. He’s knocked the former number ten – a serial murderer with a penchant for consuming his victim’s brain modules – out of the running. They’ve slapped him into sixth place, between some mech named Turmoil and below another mech who had a nasty habit of reprogramming rich citizens in order to steal their credits.
The level of crime priority is seriously out of order.
Prowl has nowhere to go, save here in the Decepticons. There is always the possibility he could arrange for a less than legal flight off planet. He could run to the stars, live in the outer rim, work on a salvage ship or for some alien civilization. If he runs far enough, he might even find a Cybertronian colony that’s been out of contact with Cybertron for so long it doesn’t remember how to get back.
He’d rather stay here. At least on Cybertron, as a Decepticon, he might be able to make a difference.
One of the messages is from Orion Pax. It’s short, blunt, to the point. It’s less an offer and more of a reminder. If he’s willing to come back, to do things right, Orion is willing to work his case, to help him fight.
Prowl’s tempted. For one long, vent-stalled moment, he’s tempted. He thinks about fighting, regaining his position, his honor, his respect. He thinks of getting his brands back, being an Enforcer again. Solving crimes, protecting the innocent…
The temptation passes between one vent and the next. He could fight, yes. But he has no faith in succeeding, no matter Orion’s support. Their superiors have already decided what will become of Prowl, and with Senator Shockwave missing as well, Prowl has no hope of finding anyone with influence to stand by his side.
No, there’s not a future for him out there. Not anymore.
Prowl sighs and deletes the message from Orion Pax. He doubts there will be another.
His door chimes.
Prowl rises to answer it, still impressed by the living quarters they’ve given him. The hab is small, but functional, and has everything he needs. They bring him his energon as needed and a fully stocked cabinet lets him flavor it to his liking. He’s allowed to roam their current base of operations – it apparently moves around quite frequently – but Prowl has yet to do so.
The badge of an Enforcer still graces his sensory panels. He doesn’t know how others might react to that.
The door opens to Megatron standing on the other side of it. His smile is light, easy. He’s carrying a cube of energon in each hand, and one he offers to Prowl.
“I thought you might be interested in something a bit stronger than the standard fare,” he says.
Prowl gives the energon a tentative sniff. Oh, it’s engex, not standard grade. It gives off a sweet and tangy scent, something tart in the aftermath. It’s quite potent. One cube is not enough to inebriate him, but it will offer a pleasant buzz.
“Thank you,” Prowl says. “And not just for the engex.”
“For retrieving you from Enforcer custody? There’s no need to thank me for that.” Megatron’s weight shifts, his gaze flickering over Prowl’s shoulders before focusing on him again. “We haven’t had a chance to speak since your arrival. If you’re not otherwise occupied, care to join me?”
Prowl’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “I have no duties and nothing to do. I can’t see what would make me busy.” He steps into the hall, the door sliding shut behind him. “Lead the way.”
Megatron turns to the right, and Prowl falls in step beside him. The Decepticon current base of operations can best be described as an abandoned hotel. Prowl’s not precisely sure where it is, save that his planetary positioning system puts him somewhere in Tesarus.
“I recognize that while we liberated you, so to speak, it may present an obligation to join our cause,” Megatron begins while they walk, his tone conversational. “I want to reassure you that is not the case. Our previous communication may have indicated that’s the path you wanted to take, but I want you to know, it’s not a requirement.”
Prowl tilts his head. “Oh, really? You’ll let me stay with the Decepticons and not be a part of them?”
Megatron chuffs an amused vent. “Well, no. If you don’t want to be a Decepticon, we’ll happily provide you safe transport to wherever else you might want to go. I just want you to understand that our rescue of you does not place you under an obligation to join us.”
“I see.” Prowl is amused despite himself. It’s fair enough. He tucks the engex into a compartment and clasps his hands behind his back. “I don’t require transportation elsewhere. I’m still intent on joining your… crusade.”
“That’s good news.” Megatron hums in his intake, and if Prowl had to identify the tone of it, he’d call it pleased.
Well, in for a credit, in for a stick.
“I do have some caveats,” Prowl says.
“I suspected as much.” They step into a lift, with Megatron selecting the top floor.
The doors close, and the lift creaks upward, the kind of creak of equipment still functional, but hasn’t seen an upgrade in decades.
“What are they?” Megatron prompts as he turns to face Prowl.
He watches the numbers climb upward instead. “I am not here to be a trophy or a rallying cry or any other useless position,” Prowl says, because he’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much. “I want something real. I want influence. I want a position that accords me a chance to help guide the Decepticons.”
In his peripherals, Megatron tilts his head. “What makes you think I ever intended otherwise?”
Prowl slants him a look. “I’m acutely aware I don’t come from the same circumstances as the rest of your leadership cadre. I don’t see them trusting me. I don’t see them willingly letting someone like me have any kind of say.”
“Mmm. Fair point.” Megatron hums.
The lift bobs as it stops on the top floor. Megatron leads them out, but only to the nearest door with a locked panel. He keys it open, and a burst of humid, smoky air rushes in to meet Prowl. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s shockingly different from the odors of Iacon.
They step onto the roof of a building high enough to look out onto the city, but not so high as to be above it all. A thick belt of smog hangs overhead from the factories in the distance, and a thin layer of ash and grit coats everything in sight.
Despite it, Prowl’s sensory panels flex, extending and retracting, twitching up and down, as if the freedom of the roof is so much more than that of his small room.
“The truth is that from the moment I decided to contact you, it was with the intention of recruiting you into my command cadre,” Megatron says as he moves to the edge of the roof, lined by a railing that crests at Megatron’s hips and is the perfect height for Prowl to lean against it to peer into the streets below. “Everyone was aware of this.”
Prowl leans his elbows on the rail and looks over at Megatron. “And they approved?”
“Eventually.” Megatron’s lips curl before he sips his engex. “Starscream took the most persuading, but it’s more because he’s inherently suspicious and distrustful. In the end, your capabilities swayed him.”
“My capabilities. Right.” Prowl doesn’t bother to conceal his snort. “My inability to acquire a promotion would suggest otherwise.”
Megatron slants him a look. “That is on the idiocies of your superiors and does not reflect your capabilities in the slightest.” He faces Prowl, hip canted against the railing. “The Decepticons, this revolution, it needs you, Prowl. Your expertise. Your clear thinking. Your tactical acumen. Your understanding of the common Cybertronian and political cogs.”
Prowl squares his jaw. He pulls out the engex and gives it a sip. The engex bubbles over his glossa, sweet and tart. It’s expensive, he wagers. He’s never tasted it before, but he could enjoy it again for sure.
It’s probably stolen.
It doesn’t even bother him.
“I want to make a difference,” Prowl finally says, looking over the railing into Tesarus, the buildings all the same dull grey as the smoky ash in the sky. It’s probably decades and decades worth of contamination that’s accumulated. “I want things to change. If that means becoming a Decepticon, so be it. But not if you don’t heed my advice. Not if you don’t realize your current path is unsustainable.”
Megatron turns and leans on the railing as well, his large hands curling against it, the engex gone, perhaps fully consumed. “It would have been pointless to recruit you without heeding your advice. I wanted you as a part of us specifically because we needed your point of view.”
Something in Prowl’s spark squeezes tight. He isn’t sure what to name it.
“Then I’m in,” he says. “Give me a seat at your table. Give me a voice. Give me a badge. And I’m yours.” He pauses, winces. “And by that, I mean I will be a Decepticon.”
Megatron chuckles and tilts his head to look at Prowl. “Does that agreement come with friendship?”
Prowl tries not to cringe. “If you know anything about my history, friendship is the last of what you’ll want from me.”
Just ask Barricade.
Then again, perhaps Barricade is not the best source of information. Their parting had been brought about by failures on both sides of the equation.
“I try not to judge based on past accusations, only present and future actions,” Megatron replies. “I’d be honored to be called your friend.” He half-turns, offering Prowl a hand. “Unless, of course, you can’t bear befriending a Decepticon.”
Prowl snorts. “It’s a little late for that.” He clasps hands with Megatron, the Decepticon leader’s handshake firm and uncompromising. “Friends and allies then.”
“Friends and allies,” Megatron confirms.
He draws back, rests his forearms on the rail, and looks out over Tesarus. It’s a dreary, dirty city. It’s not going to be home, because Prowl’s sure they’ll be moving on from here at some point. It’s never wise to be easily found.
Even if it is to be home, well, Prowl won’t be too upset about it. Home is what you make of it, and Iacon has only been a place to exist, not a place to live. He already feels freer, with this minor act of rebellion, even with a price on his head, and lies spreading through the communication network faster than a communicable disease.
Friends and allies, Prowl ruminates.
It’s about time he acquired both.
a/n: And that's it for Break the Chain, or at least this arc of it. There's plenty of room for other arcs, as soon as I can find the time to get to them. Phew.
As always, feedback is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. :)
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Date: 2018-12-11 12:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-12 11:26 am (UTC)