Chapter Four
Typewith: http://typewith.me/GetInThePokeball
Title: Decepticon Secrets
Rating: Adult themes, porn in later chapters.
Summary: Megatron lives a long life, but that means he leaves many behind him. Will he find another to keep?
Edited by meine Essande. She is wonderful for doing the italics and fixing the spelling :3
Warnings: Forced virginity, falling in love, death, dealing with the loss of loved ones, underage combat, blasphemy, threesomes, moresomes, love. Also Shockwave being a creeper.
It takes much less time than Megatron had expected to acquire a wealthy patron.
He'd been collecting smaller gifts from other fans for a few decacycles now; mostly cubes of cheap energon and the rare energon sweet. So it was something of a surprise to leave the washrack only to find a sleek racecar model standing in the doorway, preventing him from walking down the hall to find Swift in the stands.
The racecar is done up in dark blue and red, and he smiles at Megatron. "Congratulations on your win." He's standing a bit too close for comfort, but Megatron is used to smaller bots having less of a personal space bubble than his own. "You were magnificent out there this sol."
He knows he is supposed to suck up to the bot, but he was kind of hoping Swift would be with him to help. The older mech would be better at this than he could ever hope to be. "Thank you. It is always wonderful to know someone appreciates what I do."
The bot slinks a tiny bit closer, a servo drifting up his chest, just missing his sparkchamber, "You actually flew in your latest one. I had not known you were equipped with jetpeds." The bot tilts his head, optics dim, "Are you naturally a flier, or were they modded in like so many larger models are?"
He keeps from shifting away, wishing desperately he had Swiftpeds with him. Every bit of his training screaming at him to go hide behind the jetbot or Shimmerfire, who would protect him from uncomfortable touches that make his spark shudder in terror and unhappiness. Fortunately, he has a warrior spirit and will face the feelings head on, even if it isn't with battle. "I onlined with them."
"I see. May I touch your shoulder armor? It's so very unusual." The bot leans in and slides his servos over it before Megatron can reply. He doesn't like it, but it doesn't hurt, and the bot isn't doing anything else, so he tolerates the touch. "Your armor feels so strong." He pulls away with a smile. "I'm Firestarter. I hope to see you fighting often." The bot pulls out a cube of rich, purple energon. "A gift, to give you strength for your future battles. It comes from one of my favorite energon shops. I hope the flavor suits your tastes." He stares at Megatron, and Megatron wonders what he's waiting for.
Oh.
Megatron takes a sip from the cube, and the deep, rich flavor of it slides across his glossa. It's very good. Good enough that he'll be saving it for a special occasion to share with Swiftpeds. He gives the bot a smile, "Delicious."
The bot looks smug for some reason that is beyond him, and smiles up at him. "I look forward to seeing you fight tomorrow."
He bids the mech a good sol, and makes his way to Swift after he puts the highgrade into his subspace. When he gets to the jetbot, he presses a kiss to his mouth, and pulls him away from the clutches of the various fans surrounding. When they are out of the arena, he shifts a tiny bit so that the mech is snuggled against him, a comfortable heat to his side. Rubbing the bot's frame like he's gotten used to, he murmurs, "A bot got me highgrade this sol."
Swift looks impressed. "A wealthy bot, then." With the rationing, highgrade is slagging expensive right now. Even bootleg highgrade is going to outrageous prices. Finding anything flier-grade is practically impossible, so most fliers have taken to limiting their flight time to the absolute minimum to get by. And it looks to only be getting worse.
The fragging Grand Council, currently staffed by a good ten ground bots and a single flight model, keeps passing stricter rationing edicts. He likes to think that Shimmerfire wouldn't have allowed it. She loved to see them fly for her too much.
"I suppose he was wealthy. He smelled like that expensive polish that Windburn used at the temple. The one that reminded me of energon sweets." He had, under the influence of a third of a cube of highgrade, gone up to Windburn and licked him. The seeker had been so angry, but couldn't do anything without risking the wrath of a tipsy High Priestess and her equally tipsy lead guard.
It had been fun to share a cube of highgrade with Shimmerfire and Swiftpeds.
The jetbot snickers against him, "I bet he would have liked you to drink it and licked him."
He smiles, "Well, Firestarter is going to have a harder time of getting me overcharged than you and Shimmerfire did."
"Only because your frame is fragging enormous now." Swift punches his shoulder guard. "I bet if you get any bigger, you'll be able to carry small bots inside you. Bunch of squirmy minibots. Then you can get paid as a transport vessel."
Megatron scowls. "I'm not going to get that large. Even if I was, you know I do not have enough hollow space for transport. Only the largest models and copters are built that way." He flicks Swift's helmet, "I doubt I'm going to get much larger than I am right now. I'm already taller than most bots. Taller than a seeker."
The jet leans against him, voice dropping lower, "And you still have ten vorns to go, sweetspark. You're going to be so big. It is going to be hard to fuel you, but you already got a bot giving you highgrade. We aren't going to let you suffer from malnutrition again. I promised her I'd look after you if something happened to her."
He tries to imagine how big he'd be if he'd continued on that sparkling fuel mixed with normal grade diet through this entire time, and just can't do it. "Well, we're taking care of each other now. She'd have liked that."
"She would have." Swift smiles. "And she'd have liked that we were pretending to be lovers. Would have made her laugh." He curls up against Megatron. "And who knows, sparkling. Maybe when you're an adult, we'll see if we want to make it real or not. Depends on those fragging plates, I suppose."
Megatron hates the sparkplates more with each passing decacycle. And he really hopes he's one of the flying models that won't get too much larger. He doesn't want to be that large. It's more difficult for large bots to exist in society, as few things are designed for them. If he has to be big, he wants to stop at a reasonable size. He will be quite upset if he gets too large.
He has a kiss pressed to his lips and Swiftpeds pushes him to the large chair they had been given by one of the fans that had realized Megatron couldn't really sit anywhere but the falling apart berth. He tugs the jetbot into his lap, having gotten used to doing that while waiting for his next fight to come up, and the bot smiles up at him weakly, "You're doing so much better than I ever thought you would, Megatron."
He smiles back, spark warming at the praise. "I'm glad. I don't know what I'd do without you, though."
"Oh, that's easy. You'd fall into despair, and end up selling your spark on the streets." He smirks. "Providing, of course, that any bot would be fool enough to invite you into their berth." Swift's servo curls around the point of one knee-guard, stroking the red-violet diamond on it. "You'd gouge any bot not used to this frame. You're lucky I'm used to it." Swift has a special ability to sprawl on him without accumulating so much as a single scratch. "You're a tough mech to cuddle at night."
He smiles, holding the smaller bot closer, "But you're the one that insists on recharging on top of me. There is room on the berth for you next to me."
The jetbot scoffs loudly, "And risk being punctured if you move? No. That is never happening. You'll just have to remain used to me recharging on top of you. You'll love it even more when you're older and we get the plates open."
He shakes his head in amusement, pulling out a cube of energon for Swiftpeds and a cube and a half for himself, "We'll see, I suppose."
Primus's Home for Blessed Mechs doesn't seem to be faring well, if the crumbling exterior and the burnt out letters in the sign are any indication. Lucky for them, Megatron has brought a case of energon cubes for them-good sparkling grade energon, and a few normal cubes for the caretakers. He appreciates all they did for him, even if they were not capable of much with their meager resources and his own unusual frame. They did their best.
He sets the case of cubes, carefully wrapped, outside their door. He has no intention of paying them a visit. No need to rehash old memories. No desire to have them ask him about Shimmerfire. He'll just leave the cubes here, and-
". . . Megatron? Is that you?"
It is the kindly old bot of a head caretaker. He can't bring himself to just walk away. He gives him a small smile, "You caught me."
The mech takes him gently by the arm, trying to tug him in. He picks up the case of cubes, and allows himself to be lead. "Are you okay, sparkling?"
He taps a single finger to his lips in the be quiet gesture, "You can't tell anyone that. I need to pretend I'm fully grown."
The mech looks at him, a sad smile on his face, "Oh, Megatron. Every bit as noble as always." The bot looks at the cubes of energon, "You need to keep fueled, little bot. We can't acce-"
He pushes it gently in the old bot's servos, "You can, and you will. Before the Priestess took me out, I was starving. It wasn't your fault, and I know this, but I want the other sparklings to grow up healthy."
The bot stares down at the cubes again, and then back at Megatron, "How are you earning these, sparkling? If you need a place to stay, you can always come help us with the sparklings. You were very talented at that."
The kind old bot thinks he's selling his spark on the streets. Megatron cups his servos, "I fight in the gladiator rings. I earn enough to get by, and I get many donations from fans." He smiles, "I would have thought you watched the fights. Most bots here do. I'm getting quite popular."
The bot shakes his head, a small, hopeless gesture, "No. We can not afford it with this shortage of energon. We are struggling with the sparkling energon provided to us. We've had bots steal our deliveries, leaving barely enough for the sparklings, and absolutely none for the caregivers."
His spark hurts at the thought of it. It would have meant that he would have been even more malnourished than he already had been if he was still there. He murmurs, "I'll be giving you as much as I can. I want all of you to be fueling the best you can."
The old bot gives him a small smile, "How many cubes do you fuel on a sol, little bot?"
He doesn't like being called little bot unless it was from Swiftpeds, and if she had lived long enough for him to be larger than her, Shimmerfire would have gotten the privilege as well, but this was one of the bots that raised him as best they could. He won't protest it for now. "I am taking one and a half cubes a sol."
The mech shakes his head, "No, sparkling, no. You will be using two per fueling session. We have enough for the sparklings. The amount you give us will go to the caretakers and fueling the larger models of the sparklings. You must only give us enough so that you can still fuel up properly. I will not allow you to let all the good work the Priestess clearly put into you go to waste by you not fueling enough. You are a spaceship, and you should be so much larger. When you are fully grown, I imagine you will be the largest bot in the universe. Your creators were femmes and so very big. You will fuel up."
Megatron thinks of being that large, and shudders with displeasure. He wonders if he can intentionally stunt that growth by limiting his energon intake at certain times. He certainly won't be sharing that idea with the caretakers, or with Swiftpeds. They look at him and think of how amazing he'll be in a larger frame.
Megatron thinks of all the things he'll be excluded from at that size. No one will take him on in the arena if he is ten or twenty times their size. He won't be able to fit down streets, even ones built for larger frames and heavy traffic. No matter what that fragging stupid rock wants him to become.
He won't let something like CNA or the Allspark control his destiny.
He makes sure the case remains in the old bot's servos, "I have more than enough fuel for now. That is for you. I will not allow you and the other caretakers go without. You must fuel properly, as well. I have given you what I know I will not be able to drink, and I want you and the sparklings safe."
The bot gives him a sad look, "Very well, Megatron. You always cared more for what the younger bots did than yourself." He's patted softly on the servo, "I want you to fuel properly, though. You are just going to get bigger, and I do not want you sick."
He's going to intentionally stunt his growth now, and the bot likely knows it. "Of course. I'll do what I can."
"Are you alone, sparkling? We would be happy to give you shelter here, in exchange for sparklingsitting duties." The mech smiles at him. "You would have plenty of time for your gladiator fights."
Megatron considers it, but he doesn't wish to place the burden of himself and Swift on the Home. He also doesn't want the mech to be monitoring his energon intake. "I share an apartment with Swiftpeds. He was one of the Priestess's guards, before," he trails off, unwilling to say more.
The mech pauses, and then narrows his optics. "And is the apartment all you share, sparkling?"
Megatron places a gentle, kind servo on the mech's shoulder, "What he and I share is none of your business, old mech. Nothing happens that I do not want."
The old bot gives him a unhappy look, but nods. "Just remember that we are here for you, sparkling."
He doubts he'll need the help, but he'll keep it in mind. "I know." He turns away, "But I must return home now. Swiftpeds may know where I am, but I still prefer to be with him." He walks out of the Home and makes his way back to Swift.
Megatron is not happy right now.
He is covered by his giggling fanbots, several of which are only just barely out of sparklinghood. He isn't sure that one or two aren't still in sparklinghood, in fact. They are larger models, and look like they are pretending to be older. Or possibly really are fully adult. He's not sure, and he's not going to bother to press. Not when he's in his own precarious position.
But he's not happy, because they are all groping and giggling and flirting, while he sits there impassive and drinking disgusting flavorless sparkling energon to keep his growth down.
Most of the bots in his arms are spoiled, rich youths. Bots who have never needed to work for anything in their life, and have likely spent most of their time in the idle pursuit of various pleasures. They have expensive, highly detailed paint jobs, and glossy coats of polish on, to try and make themselves appear more attractive.
Megatron has to admit feeling a slight pulse of something when he stares at some of the more mature ones, but it's hardly more than a faint flicker of desire. Easily ignored.
Of course, there is one bot who makes him feel more than a faint flicker, but that bot is not draped over him shamelessly. The blue and white mech is instead curled up against his side, and he keeps eyeing the cube Megatron is sipping from. Megatron knows that sparkling energon's color is intentionally made much paler, but he has slipped a cheap dye in his mix to keep it from being detected.
He's grateful when Swiftpeds shows up suddenly - them having planned on him being covered in fanbots to make it seem like Swiftpeds is an overprotective lover - and starts shooing them all away, "Get off of him! You shouldn't be touching him like that!"
Most of the bots scatter, but the blue and white one just cuddles against him a little bit more. When the jetbot is bearing down on the fanbot, and all the rest are gone, the bot murmurs softly, "I can make the sparkling energon you're using to keep his size down taste better."
Swiftpeds freezes looking confused, and Megatron sighs as he says, "He doesn't know I'm doing it, and you just ruined the illusion."
His pretend-lover snatches the cube from him and takes a deep swallow, and then slams it down on the table with a hiss, "What the frag is this? You're fueling on sparkling energon now? Why?"
Megatron vents slowly; he'd known he was going to get caught eventually. "I do not wish to get as large as you seem to think I will. Even fueling on this blend, I will be quite a bit larger than I had hoped for. I do not believe we would be capable of fueling my frame at that point." Of course, fuel practicalities aside, there is also the issue that Megatron just does not want to be that large.
There's a ragged, angry venting, and then Swift stamps his ped on the ground, "You stupid slagger. Stupid, stupid glitch of a bot. How could you hide this from me?"
He pulls the bot into his lap, ignoring the protesting noise, and cuddles Swift softly, "Because I knew you'd just get upset at me, and likely demand that I stop. You and I both know that we can't support ourselves if I'm too large. No one will fight me if I'm so big."
Swift looks like he wants to push away, but the jetbot curls up against his chest, "She would have wanted you to be as big as you could be."
He lets out a small woof of a laugh, "She would have, but I don't want to use the eight large cubes of energon it would likely take to fuel me every sol. We can't afford it, and she would have hated how I couldn't follow her into the buildings she'd want to go to. She'd hate how we're doing these things now, but would be so happy that we're together."
Swift strokes the points of his helmet, before grabbing on to the parts that jut out past his chin, curling his servos around them so Megatron has to look him in the optics. "There are better ways to stunt your growth than sparkling energon, sweetspark. We'll discuss them later. When you don't have a . . . guest." He turns his optics on the fanbot. "Why are you still here? I thought I made it clear that you bots were unwelcome. I want some . . . private time with my sweetspark, and his very sweet spark."
The blue and white fanbot arches an optic ridge. "Really? You get off on fragging a sparkling's spark? Because it doesn't take an expert to know that his spark doesn't feel mature, not even through his plating."
Swiftped hisses in his audio, "You let him get too close. He never should have been so near your sparkplates."
The fanbot's optics are dim, and is still snuggling close, "I'm just used to what a sparkling's spark sounds like. Any bot that has sparklings around them know what it is like." The bot leans his head on Megatron's chest, "My offer about the energon is still open. I'll even provide the additives."
Megatron and Swiftpeds exchange a look, and the jetbot asks cautiously, "What do you want?"
The bot has a tiny smile, "I would like to just stay next to Megatron, it is so rare that you find a bot so clearly blessed by the Allspark. Being called by my name would be nice as well."
"The Allspark is a worthless rock," Megatron says flatly, and the fanbot looks up at him with some measure of distress.
"It is upsetting how often you blaspheme the Allspark, even in the arena. It has stopped several wealthy patrons from showing you favor. They feel it might bring a curse upon their heads if they court you." The bot leans in, "Even my creator refuses to back you. He is quite upset that I've chosen to come visit you."
The bot was rebelling against his creator. How cute.
He presses a closed mouth kiss to Swiftped's mouth, "The Allspark is offline, and I doubt it will ever be coming back."
The fanbot shifts against him, slightly nervous, "What do you mean? Have you seen it?"
Swiftpeds cuddles against his chest, a familiar heat, "On its cushioned pedestal. Black and lifeless. The Allspark is gone, and we will have to put our faith in Primus instead. At least he is real and living."
Gentle servos stroke his shoulder guard, and Megatron turns to watch the fanbot touching him. "You should still not insult it. Most bots honor the Allspark, and your disregard makes them less likely to give you gifts after a fight." The bot dims his optics playfully, "But if you need energon, my family is quite wealthy, and I have been given ample funds while I am here on Pyrovar." His expression twists to something less pleasant. "My creator hopes to find a bot willing to sparkbond to me while we are here. I do not mind your blasphemy, if it makes me a less desirable target."
He looks at Swiftpeds and the jetbot shrugs. He sighs, "We need to discuss other ways to stunt my growth. In private."
The fanbot stands up slowly, "If that's what you want." A servo is pressed to his side, "But my offer is open, and will be less expensive than whatever else you may be planning. Just call me by my name and let me be near you. That is all I ask."
Swiftpeds gives the bot an irritated look, "And your name?"
The bot smiles, a happy expression that lights up his face, "Ultra."
"Ultra, hm?" Swift eyes the bot up and down, and then smiles brilliantly. "You want us to ruin your reputation with the old, stuffy fraggers? We can do that." He loops an arm around Ultra's shoulders. "Let's get going. Plenty of room in our berth for Ultra tonight."
Megatron narrows his optics. "If you want to frag him, you're welcome to it, but you're not doing it in our berth." He sits up, pushing both mechs off of him. "If you want to frag, you can go to one of the crystal gardens designed for that. You'll ruin his reputation enough that none of the old mechs will be willing to make a sparkbond with him."
Swiftpeds shakes his head, "Some other time, sweetspark. For now, just recharging with us will actually help keep you under the radar."
Ultra snuggles back up to him, "I'm fine with just recharging. I'll even buy you both highgrade that we'll take to your place, and fix up the energon for Megatron."
He puts his servos on the both of the smaller bots' hips, walking out, "That's fine with me, then."
Swiftpeds's optics dim, cuddling against him as well, "Let's get started then. I look forward to highgrade and companionship for the night."
Megatron stared at the edict from the Grand Council with disbelief. They could not honestly expect all bots to accept an equal size cube of energon for their ration. He had been fighting in the arena, surviving on the ration and the extra energon they received from fanbots for four vorns now. He was nearly an adult bot now, less than a vorn or two to go, depending on when his circuits and spark decided he was old enough to mature.
But with this new law, outlawing the sharing of energon with any other bots for any reason, he was not going to survive to adulthood. And no adult-framed flier will last more than a vorn on such rations.
This. . .this has to stop. Pyrovar has plenty of energon, if bots share it according to need, rather than according to what little grounders need to gorge themselves full.
He pushes the datapad to Swiftpeds, and when the bot is sputtering with bent up energy and anger, he says calmly, "Do you wish to try a double battle with me? I am thinking of making an announcement, and it would be nice to have you by my side as I do." It has been a vorn or two since they had done it officially. Megatron having rose up the ranks so far they started placing him against bots with weaponry specially designed to hinder him. Swiftpeds was not high enough in the ranks to do that, but they were told that as long as it wasn't done more than every five stellar cycles or so, it would be fine. But by taking so long between this one, it means they'd have a larger audience watching them, excited to see Swiftpeds working with him again.
The jetbot is moving nervously, the high energy bot would not survive even a vorn on the small amount of energon allotted, "We taking a stand, then?" He nods once slowly, and Swiftpeds smiles, "Then, yes, I would love to join you, Megatron."
He clasps servos with Swift, and leans in to press his forehead against the bot's. "We will sweep them off their peds and grind their smug, wealthy faces into the dirt." A faint smile, "After we conquer the planet, we should think of a new name for it. And a name for our army."
Swift tips his head to one side, "Oh, I already have names for them." He stands at mock-attention and salutes Megatron, "First General of Megatron's Slutbot army, reporting for duty."
Megatron cuffs the back of his helmet. "Idiot."
The femme's optics widen in shock and happiness when Megatron tells her that they're doing double battles this sol, and she leans out from her window excitedly to give them the datapad. "Finally getting back? I look forward to seeing you both fight again. I was really missing it. We'll even open up several more places just so you bots can fight all the way to the top. Your fans will like it."
And the arena likes it because their battles are so much more violent together than apart. Getting more credits from the fighters for repairs, and from bots crowding in for recordings and to watch. He isn't above using that to his advantage.
"We'd love it. Is Swiftpeds allowed to use his guns and the extra weights?" He pets the jetbot's face like a cybercat, "We want to show everyone how talented he is this sol."
She smiles, a mean smile imagining the damage done to the various bots, "Yes. I'll send a message to the weaponsmaster, but you need to keep in mind not to use the truly dangerous ones until the very end."
"Of course. We would not think to use them against opponents not capable of defending against them. That would be needlessly cruel." A good lesson in humility, perhaps, but not a lesson for this sol. No. Their purpose this evening is entirely different. They must demonstrate their skill, and show off their strength.
They want the powerful bots here, and those wealthy benefactors who enjoy their feats, to back them. To share their strength and resources, so they can free Pyrovar from the tyrannical grip of the Grand Council, forcing edicts on them that will condemn plenty of fliers to a slow, painful process of offlining from starvation.
They go through the fights and dealing with fanbots with ease, a quiet text to Ultra explaining what they were planning so the bot could stay to the side and look like he knew what they were planning from the very start. The rich bot's backing will help bring the rebellion, and it will be a rebellion, to a much smoother start. Show a bot willing to help, and the others will fall into place.
Swiftpeds's whip is brought back to subspace the moment the last battle is won, and instead of landing on his shoulders and bowing like the previous fights, lands lightly on the ground next to him. There's still the cheering from the crowd, but it is confused. Megatron takes advantage of it, stepping forward a little bit so he is in the exact center of the arena.
Megatron lifts a sword, and the crowd falls silent. "My fellow citizens, many of you have already read the recent edict from the Grand Council." The crowd mutters, the tone angry-any bots who had read it were aware of what it meant for their planet. "We stand as one in our disgust for the newest law the sparkless council has forced upon us." He is quite pleased with the audio set up of the arena, designed to broadcast anything the fighters in the ring say so that all spectators can hear. It makes for an excellent stage. "We cannot allow them to control us this way. Pyrovar has withstood energon shortage in the past. We stood tall and proud then, sharing our energon fairly amongst us, so that not a single mouth went unfueled, and not a single bot offlined from starvation." He waits for the crowd's shouts to settle down, "The council would have us all offline, because they deem our fuel intake excessive."
There's a murmur of approval, but then a small bot Megatron has fought before hops into the arena. The bot is fairly vicious, and has actually beaten him once or twice, while being known to use far too much force to be allowed to ever be in the top bots. The mech has offlined bots in the heat of a fight, but never really seemed apologetic about it. One of them was a very polite mech that always tried to end a fight by disarming in the least violent way possible, and Megatron had teamed up with once - would have done it more, but the bot had met his end before it was possible.
The mech sneers up at him, "Well, maybe bots as large as you shouldn't be getting that much. Not when so many others can get by just fine with far less. You are already gigantic, towering over every other bot on the planet. You're just," the bot draws a sword, "being," a fast step forward, "greedy." And it was punctuated by the blade being thrown right into Megatron's sparkchamber.
There's shrieks of dismay from the audience, and Swiftpeds screams something, and his chainwhip wraps around the other bot's neck, severing his head as the bot shows an unexpected ferocity.
Megatron feels pain that drops him to his knees, but . . . he's still online. He stares down at his chest, and the sword sticking out of his plates. He withdraws the blade, which is completely shattered at the tip. The crowd has fallen hushed, and even Swift is staring at him with wide optics. "Y-you're . . you're not offline." Swift rushes to his side and wraps energon-soaked servos around him, feeling the hole in his chest. "How. . "
He sits back, legs folding under him, and clicks open his plates. The blade tip falls free from the space, and his inner sparkplates are completely undamaged. He looks down at them in shock, "It... it looks like they keep me safe from a very great deal of damage."
Swift lets out a choked little sob, burying his face into the plates, "You... You idiot. Never do this to me again."
Petting the jetbot softly on the back, he looks back to the crowd with a small smile on his face, "And, as you can see, I will not be taken offline by a stray shot or assassination attempt if we have to go through this violently. I will take care of us all."
"How do we get the council off our backs?" a bot shouts from the crowd, and it sounds a slagging lot like Ultra trying to disguise his voice.
Megatron smiles, wrapping an arm around Swift. "Tonight, we storm the households and guard posts of the Council's bots. If they will not convert to the Pyrovarian way, we send them off of our planet. If they fight, we show them that Pyrovar is not a meek planet they can crush beneath their peds." He pulls Swift closer as triumph swells in his spark and the crowd roars their approval. He leans in to whisper, "I think we convinced them. How long until Pyrovar is ours?"
Swift half laughs, half sobs, "You fragger. They'll be wearing your paint everywhere on Pyrovar within the decacycle."
He presses a kiss to the jetbot's mouth, "Then we'll need to figure out what to call ourselves. Figure out the best way to do things."
Swift's optics dim with pleasure, cuddled against him, "We'll figure something out. Or the troops we're gathering will provide it for us. We'll get this done."
Megatron's spark swells, and he knows it will only get better from here. He has Swiftpeds at his side, Ultra as backup, and it feels like nothing can go wrong.
Title: Decepticon Secrets
Rating: Adult themes, porn in later chapters.
Summary: Megatron lives a long life, but that means he leaves many behind him. Will he find another to keep?
Edited by meine Essande. She is wonderful for doing the italics and fixing the spelling :3
Warnings: Forced virginity, falling in love, death, dealing with the loss of loved ones, underage combat, blasphemy, threesomes, moresomes, love. Also Shockwave being a creeper.
It takes much less time than Megatron had expected to acquire a wealthy patron.
He'd been collecting smaller gifts from other fans for a few decacycles now; mostly cubes of cheap energon and the rare energon sweet. So it was something of a surprise to leave the washrack only to find a sleek racecar model standing in the doorway, preventing him from walking down the hall to find Swift in the stands.
The racecar is done up in dark blue and red, and he smiles at Megatron. "Congratulations on your win." He's standing a bit too close for comfort, but Megatron is used to smaller bots having less of a personal space bubble than his own. "You were magnificent out there this sol."
He knows he is supposed to suck up to the bot, but he was kind of hoping Swift would be with him to help. The older mech would be better at this than he could ever hope to be. "Thank you. It is always wonderful to know someone appreciates what I do."
The bot slinks a tiny bit closer, a servo drifting up his chest, just missing his sparkchamber, "You actually flew in your latest one. I had not known you were equipped with jetpeds." The bot tilts his head, optics dim, "Are you naturally a flier, or were they modded in like so many larger models are?"
He keeps from shifting away, wishing desperately he had Swiftpeds with him. Every bit of his training screaming at him to go hide behind the jetbot or Shimmerfire, who would protect him from uncomfortable touches that make his spark shudder in terror and unhappiness. Fortunately, he has a warrior spirit and will face the feelings head on, even if it isn't with battle. "I onlined with them."
"I see. May I touch your shoulder armor? It's so very unusual." The bot leans in and slides his servos over it before Megatron can reply. He doesn't like it, but it doesn't hurt, and the bot isn't doing anything else, so he tolerates the touch. "Your armor feels so strong." He pulls away with a smile. "I'm Firestarter. I hope to see you fighting often." The bot pulls out a cube of rich, purple energon. "A gift, to give you strength for your future battles. It comes from one of my favorite energon shops. I hope the flavor suits your tastes." He stares at Megatron, and Megatron wonders what he's waiting for.
Oh.
Megatron takes a sip from the cube, and the deep, rich flavor of it slides across his glossa. It's very good. Good enough that he'll be saving it for a special occasion to share with Swiftpeds. He gives the bot a smile, "Delicious."
The bot looks smug for some reason that is beyond him, and smiles up at him. "I look forward to seeing you fight tomorrow."
He bids the mech a good sol, and makes his way to Swift after he puts the highgrade into his subspace. When he gets to the jetbot, he presses a kiss to his mouth, and pulls him away from the clutches of the various fans surrounding. When they are out of the arena, he shifts a tiny bit so that the mech is snuggled against him, a comfortable heat to his side. Rubbing the bot's frame like he's gotten used to, he murmurs, "A bot got me highgrade this sol."
Swift looks impressed. "A wealthy bot, then." With the rationing, highgrade is slagging expensive right now. Even bootleg highgrade is going to outrageous prices. Finding anything flier-grade is practically impossible, so most fliers have taken to limiting their flight time to the absolute minimum to get by. And it looks to only be getting worse.
The fragging Grand Council, currently staffed by a good ten ground bots and a single flight model, keeps passing stricter rationing edicts. He likes to think that Shimmerfire wouldn't have allowed it. She loved to see them fly for her too much.
"I suppose he was wealthy. He smelled like that expensive polish that Windburn used at the temple. The one that reminded me of energon sweets." He had, under the influence of a third of a cube of highgrade, gone up to Windburn and licked him. The seeker had been so angry, but couldn't do anything without risking the wrath of a tipsy High Priestess and her equally tipsy lead guard.
It had been fun to share a cube of highgrade with Shimmerfire and Swiftpeds.
The jetbot snickers against him, "I bet he would have liked you to drink it and licked him."
He smiles, "Well, Firestarter is going to have a harder time of getting me overcharged than you and Shimmerfire did."
"Only because your frame is fragging enormous now." Swift punches his shoulder guard. "I bet if you get any bigger, you'll be able to carry small bots inside you. Bunch of squirmy minibots. Then you can get paid as a transport vessel."
Megatron scowls. "I'm not going to get that large. Even if I was, you know I do not have enough hollow space for transport. Only the largest models and copters are built that way." He flicks Swift's helmet, "I doubt I'm going to get much larger than I am right now. I'm already taller than most bots. Taller than a seeker."
The jet leans against him, voice dropping lower, "And you still have ten vorns to go, sweetspark. You're going to be so big. It is going to be hard to fuel you, but you already got a bot giving you highgrade. We aren't going to let you suffer from malnutrition again. I promised her I'd look after you if something happened to her."
He tries to imagine how big he'd be if he'd continued on that sparkling fuel mixed with normal grade diet through this entire time, and just can't do it. "Well, we're taking care of each other now. She'd have liked that."
"She would have." Swift smiles. "And she'd have liked that we were pretending to be lovers. Would have made her laugh." He curls up against Megatron. "And who knows, sparkling. Maybe when you're an adult, we'll see if we want to make it real or not. Depends on those fragging plates, I suppose."
Megatron hates the sparkplates more with each passing decacycle. And he really hopes he's one of the flying models that won't get too much larger. He doesn't want to be that large. It's more difficult for large bots to exist in society, as few things are designed for them. If he has to be big, he wants to stop at a reasonable size. He will be quite upset if he gets too large.
He has a kiss pressed to his lips and Swiftpeds pushes him to the large chair they had been given by one of the fans that had realized Megatron couldn't really sit anywhere but the falling apart berth. He tugs the jetbot into his lap, having gotten used to doing that while waiting for his next fight to come up, and the bot smiles up at him weakly, "You're doing so much better than I ever thought you would, Megatron."
He smiles back, spark warming at the praise. "I'm glad. I don't know what I'd do without you, though."
"Oh, that's easy. You'd fall into despair, and end up selling your spark on the streets." He smirks. "Providing, of course, that any bot would be fool enough to invite you into their berth." Swift's servo curls around the point of one knee-guard, stroking the red-violet diamond on it. "You'd gouge any bot not used to this frame. You're lucky I'm used to it." Swift has a special ability to sprawl on him without accumulating so much as a single scratch. "You're a tough mech to cuddle at night."
He smiles, holding the smaller bot closer, "But you're the one that insists on recharging on top of me. There is room on the berth for you next to me."
The jetbot scoffs loudly, "And risk being punctured if you move? No. That is never happening. You'll just have to remain used to me recharging on top of you. You'll love it even more when you're older and we get the plates open."
He shakes his head in amusement, pulling out a cube of energon for Swiftpeds and a cube and a half for himself, "We'll see, I suppose."
Primus's Home for Blessed Mechs doesn't seem to be faring well, if the crumbling exterior and the burnt out letters in the sign are any indication. Lucky for them, Megatron has brought a case of energon cubes for them-good sparkling grade energon, and a few normal cubes for the caretakers. He appreciates all they did for him, even if they were not capable of much with their meager resources and his own unusual frame. They did their best.
He sets the case of cubes, carefully wrapped, outside their door. He has no intention of paying them a visit. No need to rehash old memories. No desire to have them ask him about Shimmerfire. He'll just leave the cubes here, and-
". . . Megatron? Is that you?"
It is the kindly old bot of a head caretaker. He can't bring himself to just walk away. He gives him a small smile, "You caught me."
The mech takes him gently by the arm, trying to tug him in. He picks up the case of cubes, and allows himself to be lead. "Are you okay, sparkling?"
He taps a single finger to his lips in the be quiet gesture, "You can't tell anyone that. I need to pretend I'm fully grown."
The mech looks at him, a sad smile on his face, "Oh, Megatron. Every bit as noble as always." The bot looks at the cubes of energon, "You need to keep fueled, little bot. We can't acce-"
He pushes it gently in the old bot's servos, "You can, and you will. Before the Priestess took me out, I was starving. It wasn't your fault, and I know this, but I want the other sparklings to grow up healthy."
The bot stares down at the cubes again, and then back at Megatron, "How are you earning these, sparkling? If you need a place to stay, you can always come help us with the sparklings. You were very talented at that."
The kind old bot thinks he's selling his spark on the streets. Megatron cups his servos, "I fight in the gladiator rings. I earn enough to get by, and I get many donations from fans." He smiles, "I would have thought you watched the fights. Most bots here do. I'm getting quite popular."
The bot shakes his head, a small, hopeless gesture, "No. We can not afford it with this shortage of energon. We are struggling with the sparkling energon provided to us. We've had bots steal our deliveries, leaving barely enough for the sparklings, and absolutely none for the caregivers."
His spark hurts at the thought of it. It would have meant that he would have been even more malnourished than he already had been if he was still there. He murmurs, "I'll be giving you as much as I can. I want all of you to be fueling the best you can."
The old bot gives him a small smile, "How many cubes do you fuel on a sol, little bot?"
He doesn't like being called little bot unless it was from Swiftpeds, and if she had lived long enough for him to be larger than her, Shimmerfire would have gotten the privilege as well, but this was one of the bots that raised him as best they could. He won't protest it for now. "I am taking one and a half cubes a sol."
The mech shakes his head, "No, sparkling, no. You will be using two per fueling session. We have enough for the sparklings. The amount you give us will go to the caretakers and fueling the larger models of the sparklings. You must only give us enough so that you can still fuel up properly. I will not allow you to let all the good work the Priestess clearly put into you go to waste by you not fueling enough. You are a spaceship, and you should be so much larger. When you are fully grown, I imagine you will be the largest bot in the universe. Your creators were femmes and so very big. You will fuel up."
Megatron thinks of being that large, and shudders with displeasure. He wonders if he can intentionally stunt that growth by limiting his energon intake at certain times. He certainly won't be sharing that idea with the caretakers, or with Swiftpeds. They look at him and think of how amazing he'll be in a larger frame.
Megatron thinks of all the things he'll be excluded from at that size. No one will take him on in the arena if he is ten or twenty times their size. He won't be able to fit down streets, even ones built for larger frames and heavy traffic. No matter what that fragging stupid rock wants him to become.
He won't let something like CNA or the Allspark control his destiny.
He makes sure the case remains in the old bot's servos, "I have more than enough fuel for now. That is for you. I will not allow you and the other caretakers go without. You must fuel properly, as well. I have given you what I know I will not be able to drink, and I want you and the sparklings safe."
The bot gives him a sad look, "Very well, Megatron. You always cared more for what the younger bots did than yourself." He's patted softly on the servo, "I want you to fuel properly, though. You are just going to get bigger, and I do not want you sick."
He's going to intentionally stunt his growth now, and the bot likely knows it. "Of course. I'll do what I can."
"Are you alone, sparkling? We would be happy to give you shelter here, in exchange for sparklingsitting duties." The mech smiles at him. "You would have plenty of time for your gladiator fights."
Megatron considers it, but he doesn't wish to place the burden of himself and Swift on the Home. He also doesn't want the mech to be monitoring his energon intake. "I share an apartment with Swiftpeds. He was one of the Priestess's guards, before," he trails off, unwilling to say more.
The mech pauses, and then narrows his optics. "And is the apartment all you share, sparkling?"
Megatron places a gentle, kind servo on the mech's shoulder, "What he and I share is none of your business, old mech. Nothing happens that I do not want."
The old bot gives him a unhappy look, but nods. "Just remember that we are here for you, sparkling."
He doubts he'll need the help, but he'll keep it in mind. "I know." He turns away, "But I must return home now. Swiftpeds may know where I am, but I still prefer to be with him." He walks out of the Home and makes his way back to Swift.
Megatron is not happy right now.
He is covered by his giggling fanbots, several of which are only just barely out of sparklinghood. He isn't sure that one or two aren't still in sparklinghood, in fact. They are larger models, and look like they are pretending to be older. Or possibly really are fully adult. He's not sure, and he's not going to bother to press. Not when he's in his own precarious position.
But he's not happy, because they are all groping and giggling and flirting, while he sits there impassive and drinking disgusting flavorless sparkling energon to keep his growth down.
Most of the bots in his arms are spoiled, rich youths. Bots who have never needed to work for anything in their life, and have likely spent most of their time in the idle pursuit of various pleasures. They have expensive, highly detailed paint jobs, and glossy coats of polish on, to try and make themselves appear more attractive.
Megatron has to admit feeling a slight pulse of something when he stares at some of the more mature ones, but it's hardly more than a faint flicker of desire. Easily ignored.
Of course, there is one bot who makes him feel more than a faint flicker, but that bot is not draped over him shamelessly. The blue and white mech is instead curled up against his side, and he keeps eyeing the cube Megatron is sipping from. Megatron knows that sparkling energon's color is intentionally made much paler, but he has slipped a cheap dye in his mix to keep it from being detected.
He's grateful when Swiftpeds shows up suddenly - them having planned on him being covered in fanbots to make it seem like Swiftpeds is an overprotective lover - and starts shooing them all away, "Get off of him! You shouldn't be touching him like that!"
Most of the bots scatter, but the blue and white one just cuddles against him a little bit more. When the jetbot is bearing down on the fanbot, and all the rest are gone, the bot murmurs softly, "I can make the sparkling energon you're using to keep his size down taste better."
Swiftpeds freezes looking confused, and Megatron sighs as he says, "He doesn't know I'm doing it, and you just ruined the illusion."
His pretend-lover snatches the cube from him and takes a deep swallow, and then slams it down on the table with a hiss, "What the frag is this? You're fueling on sparkling energon now? Why?"
Megatron vents slowly; he'd known he was going to get caught eventually. "I do not wish to get as large as you seem to think I will. Even fueling on this blend, I will be quite a bit larger than I had hoped for. I do not believe we would be capable of fueling my frame at that point." Of course, fuel practicalities aside, there is also the issue that Megatron just does not want to be that large.
There's a ragged, angry venting, and then Swift stamps his ped on the ground, "You stupid slagger. Stupid, stupid glitch of a bot. How could you hide this from me?"
He pulls the bot into his lap, ignoring the protesting noise, and cuddles Swift softly, "Because I knew you'd just get upset at me, and likely demand that I stop. You and I both know that we can't support ourselves if I'm too large. No one will fight me if I'm so big."
Swift looks like he wants to push away, but the jetbot curls up against his chest, "She would have wanted you to be as big as you could be."
He lets out a small woof of a laugh, "She would have, but I don't want to use the eight large cubes of energon it would likely take to fuel me every sol. We can't afford it, and she would have hated how I couldn't follow her into the buildings she'd want to go to. She'd hate how we're doing these things now, but would be so happy that we're together."
Swift strokes the points of his helmet, before grabbing on to the parts that jut out past his chin, curling his servos around them so Megatron has to look him in the optics. "There are better ways to stunt your growth than sparkling energon, sweetspark. We'll discuss them later. When you don't have a . . . guest." He turns his optics on the fanbot. "Why are you still here? I thought I made it clear that you bots were unwelcome. I want some . . . private time with my sweetspark, and his very sweet spark."
The blue and white fanbot arches an optic ridge. "Really? You get off on fragging a sparkling's spark? Because it doesn't take an expert to know that his spark doesn't feel mature, not even through his plating."
Swiftped hisses in his audio, "You let him get too close. He never should have been so near your sparkplates."
The fanbot's optics are dim, and is still snuggling close, "I'm just used to what a sparkling's spark sounds like. Any bot that has sparklings around them know what it is like." The bot leans his head on Megatron's chest, "My offer about the energon is still open. I'll even provide the additives."
Megatron and Swiftpeds exchange a look, and the jetbot asks cautiously, "What do you want?"
The bot has a tiny smile, "I would like to just stay next to Megatron, it is so rare that you find a bot so clearly blessed by the Allspark. Being called by my name would be nice as well."
"The Allspark is a worthless rock," Megatron says flatly, and the fanbot looks up at him with some measure of distress.
"It is upsetting how often you blaspheme the Allspark, even in the arena. It has stopped several wealthy patrons from showing you favor. They feel it might bring a curse upon their heads if they court you." The bot leans in, "Even my creator refuses to back you. He is quite upset that I've chosen to come visit you."
The bot was rebelling against his creator. How cute.
He presses a closed mouth kiss to Swiftped's mouth, "The Allspark is offline, and I doubt it will ever be coming back."
The fanbot shifts against him, slightly nervous, "What do you mean? Have you seen it?"
Swiftpeds cuddles against his chest, a familiar heat, "On its cushioned pedestal. Black and lifeless. The Allspark is gone, and we will have to put our faith in Primus instead. At least he is real and living."
Gentle servos stroke his shoulder guard, and Megatron turns to watch the fanbot touching him. "You should still not insult it. Most bots honor the Allspark, and your disregard makes them less likely to give you gifts after a fight." The bot dims his optics playfully, "But if you need energon, my family is quite wealthy, and I have been given ample funds while I am here on Pyrovar." His expression twists to something less pleasant. "My creator hopes to find a bot willing to sparkbond to me while we are here. I do not mind your blasphemy, if it makes me a less desirable target."
He looks at Swiftpeds and the jetbot shrugs. He sighs, "We need to discuss other ways to stunt my growth. In private."
The fanbot stands up slowly, "If that's what you want." A servo is pressed to his side, "But my offer is open, and will be less expensive than whatever else you may be planning. Just call me by my name and let me be near you. That is all I ask."
Swiftpeds gives the bot an irritated look, "And your name?"
The bot smiles, a happy expression that lights up his face, "Ultra."
"Ultra, hm?" Swift eyes the bot up and down, and then smiles brilliantly. "You want us to ruin your reputation with the old, stuffy fraggers? We can do that." He loops an arm around Ultra's shoulders. "Let's get going. Plenty of room in our berth for Ultra tonight."
Megatron narrows his optics. "If you want to frag him, you're welcome to it, but you're not doing it in our berth." He sits up, pushing both mechs off of him. "If you want to frag, you can go to one of the crystal gardens designed for that. You'll ruin his reputation enough that none of the old mechs will be willing to make a sparkbond with him."
Swiftpeds shakes his head, "Some other time, sweetspark. For now, just recharging with us will actually help keep you under the radar."
Ultra snuggles back up to him, "I'm fine with just recharging. I'll even buy you both highgrade that we'll take to your place, and fix up the energon for Megatron."
He puts his servos on the both of the smaller bots' hips, walking out, "That's fine with me, then."
Swiftpeds's optics dim, cuddling against him as well, "Let's get started then. I look forward to highgrade and companionship for the night."
Megatron stared at the edict from the Grand Council with disbelief. They could not honestly expect all bots to accept an equal size cube of energon for their ration. He had been fighting in the arena, surviving on the ration and the extra energon they received from fanbots for four vorns now. He was nearly an adult bot now, less than a vorn or two to go, depending on when his circuits and spark decided he was old enough to mature.
But with this new law, outlawing the sharing of energon with any other bots for any reason, he was not going to survive to adulthood. And no adult-framed flier will last more than a vorn on such rations.
This. . .this has to stop. Pyrovar has plenty of energon, if bots share it according to need, rather than according to what little grounders need to gorge themselves full.
He pushes the datapad to Swiftpeds, and when the bot is sputtering with bent up energy and anger, he says calmly, "Do you wish to try a double battle with me? I am thinking of making an announcement, and it would be nice to have you by my side as I do." It has been a vorn or two since they had done it officially. Megatron having rose up the ranks so far they started placing him against bots with weaponry specially designed to hinder him. Swiftpeds was not high enough in the ranks to do that, but they were told that as long as it wasn't done more than every five stellar cycles or so, it would be fine. But by taking so long between this one, it means they'd have a larger audience watching them, excited to see Swiftpeds working with him again.
The jetbot is moving nervously, the high energy bot would not survive even a vorn on the small amount of energon allotted, "We taking a stand, then?" He nods once slowly, and Swiftpeds smiles, "Then, yes, I would love to join you, Megatron."
He clasps servos with Swift, and leans in to press his forehead against the bot's. "We will sweep them off their peds and grind their smug, wealthy faces into the dirt." A faint smile, "After we conquer the planet, we should think of a new name for it. And a name for our army."
Swift tips his head to one side, "Oh, I already have names for them." He stands at mock-attention and salutes Megatron, "First General of Megatron's Slutbot army, reporting for duty."
Megatron cuffs the back of his helmet. "Idiot."
The femme's optics widen in shock and happiness when Megatron tells her that they're doing double battles this sol, and she leans out from her window excitedly to give them the datapad. "Finally getting back? I look forward to seeing you both fight again. I was really missing it. We'll even open up several more places just so you bots can fight all the way to the top. Your fans will like it."
And the arena likes it because their battles are so much more violent together than apart. Getting more credits from the fighters for repairs, and from bots crowding in for recordings and to watch. He isn't above using that to his advantage.
"We'd love it. Is Swiftpeds allowed to use his guns and the extra weights?" He pets the jetbot's face like a cybercat, "We want to show everyone how talented he is this sol."
She smiles, a mean smile imagining the damage done to the various bots, "Yes. I'll send a message to the weaponsmaster, but you need to keep in mind not to use the truly dangerous ones until the very end."
"Of course. We would not think to use them against opponents not capable of defending against them. That would be needlessly cruel." A good lesson in humility, perhaps, but not a lesson for this sol. No. Their purpose this evening is entirely different. They must demonstrate their skill, and show off their strength.
They want the powerful bots here, and those wealthy benefactors who enjoy their feats, to back them. To share their strength and resources, so they can free Pyrovar from the tyrannical grip of the Grand Council, forcing edicts on them that will condemn plenty of fliers to a slow, painful process of offlining from starvation.
They go through the fights and dealing with fanbots with ease, a quiet text to Ultra explaining what they were planning so the bot could stay to the side and look like he knew what they were planning from the very start. The rich bot's backing will help bring the rebellion, and it will be a rebellion, to a much smoother start. Show a bot willing to help, and the others will fall into place.
Swiftpeds's whip is brought back to subspace the moment the last battle is won, and instead of landing on his shoulders and bowing like the previous fights, lands lightly on the ground next to him. There's still the cheering from the crowd, but it is confused. Megatron takes advantage of it, stepping forward a little bit so he is in the exact center of the arena.
Megatron lifts a sword, and the crowd falls silent. "My fellow citizens, many of you have already read the recent edict from the Grand Council." The crowd mutters, the tone angry-any bots who had read it were aware of what it meant for their planet. "We stand as one in our disgust for the newest law the sparkless council has forced upon us." He is quite pleased with the audio set up of the arena, designed to broadcast anything the fighters in the ring say so that all spectators can hear. It makes for an excellent stage. "We cannot allow them to control us this way. Pyrovar has withstood energon shortage in the past. We stood tall and proud then, sharing our energon fairly amongst us, so that not a single mouth went unfueled, and not a single bot offlined from starvation." He waits for the crowd's shouts to settle down, "The council would have us all offline, because they deem our fuel intake excessive."
There's a murmur of approval, but then a small bot Megatron has fought before hops into the arena. The bot is fairly vicious, and has actually beaten him once or twice, while being known to use far too much force to be allowed to ever be in the top bots. The mech has offlined bots in the heat of a fight, but never really seemed apologetic about it. One of them was a very polite mech that always tried to end a fight by disarming in the least violent way possible, and Megatron had teamed up with once - would have done it more, but the bot had met his end before it was possible.
The mech sneers up at him, "Well, maybe bots as large as you shouldn't be getting that much. Not when so many others can get by just fine with far less. You are already gigantic, towering over every other bot on the planet. You're just," the bot draws a sword, "being," a fast step forward, "greedy." And it was punctuated by the blade being thrown right into Megatron's sparkchamber.
There's shrieks of dismay from the audience, and Swiftpeds screams something, and his chainwhip wraps around the other bot's neck, severing his head as the bot shows an unexpected ferocity.
Megatron feels pain that drops him to his knees, but . . . he's still online. He stares down at his chest, and the sword sticking out of his plates. He withdraws the blade, which is completely shattered at the tip. The crowd has fallen hushed, and even Swift is staring at him with wide optics. "Y-you're . . you're not offline." Swift rushes to his side and wraps energon-soaked servos around him, feeling the hole in his chest. "How. . "
He sits back, legs folding under him, and clicks open his plates. The blade tip falls free from the space, and his inner sparkplates are completely undamaged. He looks down at them in shock, "It... it looks like they keep me safe from a very great deal of damage."
Swift lets out a choked little sob, burying his face into the plates, "You... You idiot. Never do this to me again."
Petting the jetbot softly on the back, he looks back to the crowd with a small smile on his face, "And, as you can see, I will not be taken offline by a stray shot or assassination attempt if we have to go through this violently. I will take care of us all."
"How do we get the council off our backs?" a bot shouts from the crowd, and it sounds a slagging lot like Ultra trying to disguise his voice.
Megatron smiles, wrapping an arm around Swift. "Tonight, we storm the households and guard posts of the Council's bots. If they will not convert to the Pyrovarian way, we send them off of our planet. If they fight, we show them that Pyrovar is not a meek planet they can crush beneath their peds." He pulls Swift closer as triumph swells in his spark and the crowd roars their approval. He leans in to whisper, "I think we convinced them. How long until Pyrovar is ours?"
Swift half laughs, half sobs, "You fragger. They'll be wearing your paint everywhere on Pyrovar within the decacycle."
He presses a kiss to the jetbot's mouth, "Then we'll need to figure out what to call ourselves. Figure out the best way to do things."
Swift's optics dim with pleasure, cuddled against him, "We'll figure something out. Or the troops we're gathering will provide it for us. We'll get this done."
Megatron's spark swells, and he knows it will only get better from here. He has Swiftpeds at his side, Ultra as backup, and it feels like nothing can go wrong.