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“What I’m worth?” asked Megatron. “Attaching monetary value to one’s frame is Functionist nonsense.”
“Er, right, but this isn’t really the same,” Swindle insisted, putting his hands up defensively. “It’s necessary to outline exactly what you’re… offerin’ so mechs know what they’re gettin’. And where we should start the bidding.”
Soundwave loomed over Swindle like a judgemental pillar.
“Course of action: not recommended,” he said, for the third time since they had started.
“Soundwave,” said Megatron, gesturing for him to back off. “His explanation will suffice. Swindle, continue.”
Swindle shrugged. “Well, from what you told me… I mean, aside from the little fact that you’re fraggin’ Megatron, which is your biggest selling point … your age is actually another point in your favor. You’re the first generation of your class of miner. A first generation with an intact array- well, one array intact. That’s incredibly rare.” Swindle smiled a sleazy grin. “A prized possession, even.”
“Possession…” growled Megatron. Swindle shrunk back down in his seat.
He had never considered his valve to be valuable. It was just a part of his frame.
He knew many mechs were possessive about breaking seals, as stupid and objectifying as it was. Apparently, the ‘freshness’ of an unused valve or spike had an eroticism many bots found irresistible.
Megatron had never cared about that nonsense, but he’d play to others’ ridiculous desires for his own benefit. He likewise had no such foolish notions that a mech could be “claimed” by being spiked. Quite simply, he belonged to no one. Needless to say, he’d spent a lot of time and effort to make sure he never did again.
If someone paid for the privilege to break his seal, it would be just another interface. That was the beginning and end of it. He believed his reputation was strong enough to not suffer a loss of dignity by allowing someone access to that part of himself. No, this was a necessary sacrifice for the Cause.
“Er, Lord Megatron,” said Swindle, bringing him back to the present. “What I’m saying is, you can demand a really high price.”
“How high?”
“I don’t think anyone would complain if you started the bidding at… this much?” said Swindle, showing him the datapad.
When Megatron saw the number, any remaining hesitation he had about this idea disappeared. Confident, he turned to Soundwave, who looked back in despair. He couldn’t fathom why.
“Soundwave, broadcast to the neutrals and any other interested parties that I’m selling the right to break my valve seal.”
Soundwave stared at him for a long moment, before nodding.
“Swindle, you’ve been exceedingly helpful,” said Megatron. “I’ll let you handle the bidding process.”
“Of course, Lord Megatron. The pleasure is all mine,” said Swindle, with an oily bow.
---
“Starscream: underestimating Lord Megatron’s appeal,” said Soundwave, after Starscream had picked himself up from where he’d collapsed on the ground in hysterics.
“Appeal?” cackled Starscream. “Megatron may have been a thing of beauty in the past, but that time has long since… well, passed. I wasn't around to witness it, anyway.”
Starscream propped his chin on his hand and fixed him with a coy stare.
“So, was he handsome, Soundwave? When he was younger? Is that what’s driving this ridiculous scheme– Megatron’s foolish notions that he’s still a hot piece of aft?”
“Observe,” said Soundwave, and thrust a datapad at him.
“What’s this?”
“Site user metrics.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Was Megatron good looking? I know you were close, back...” Starscream trailed off, as he caught a glimpse of the screen. It was the bidding page Soundwave had mentioned.
“So. He’s selling himself like he’s in a slave market? I thought we were avoiding that sort of thing. As in, that was the point of fighting this war.”
“Starscream: misunderstands. Megatron: selling the privilege of using his frame. Sealed mechs: popular commodity.”
Starscream’s attention lingered on the number of the current bid. It was a very impressive number. His lip curled.
“Privilege,” he sneered. “Most of these individuals are only in it for a revenge frag. They want to dominate him. They don't really want him.”
“Motivation: irrelevant,” said Soundwave.
“Of course, of course. It’s all about the shanix this makes, in the end.”
The number still hung in his mind. For one very wealthy bot, Megatron would make his dreams come true, in whatever way said bot was dreaming about having him. For revenge or dominance or bragging rights or... now that Starscream thought about it, there were lots of good reasons one might want to sleep with Megatron. Especially if he was–
“Did you say sealed!?” blurted Starscream.
Soundwave nodded once. Firmly.
Then this was not only about dominance, or revenge. This was the opportunity to have what no one else could. To lay claim to an old, precious artifact.
How could anyone have guessed that just behind his unsuspecting, heavily-armored panel, Megatron was untouched, and ripe for the taking?
“He’s going to attract some terrible mechs like this,” said Starscream. “Has he thought of that? Does he really want to just let anyone have their way with him, for his first time?”
“Megatron: unafraid.”
Soundwave, however, sounded a little strained.
“How brave of him,” said Starscream.
“Megatron: being vulnerable.”
Despite his terrifying reputation, his surly and hardened appearance, and his long lifetime of experience in battle, Megatron was inexperienced in one very appealing way.
Suddenly, Starscream understood Soundwave’s concern, however, he didn’t really share his worry. Megatron would probably destroy anyone who tried to do anything he disliked.
Starscream did, however, try to imagine what Megatron would be like when he was being taken.
He could feel a smirk breaking across his face at the thought of their lord sprawled out on a berth, huge and intimidating, glaring down at whatever trembling imbecile wanted to spike him. Would he be surly throughout the whole act? Or goading? Or maybe even vulnerable, as Soundwave had suggested, melting with pleasure upon being spiked for the first time? Optics bright and defiant, broad chest heaving, thighs trembling, totally at the mercy of–
Starscream’s fans clicked on. Loudly.
Soundwave’s helm snapped towards him, and Starscream barely had time to recover from the unexpected nosedive into lechery his processor took, to sputter an excuse.
“Ugh, this is– it’s because you have too many machines in here,” he stuttered, gesturing at the monitors lining the walls. “They're all… running hot. You should fix that.”
Before Soundwave could respond, Starscream scurried out of the room.
—
The air on the bridge was a little stifling today, Megatron noted. All the cooling fans of the mechs working at the consoles seemed to have come on at once, as soon as he showed up. Surely, it was a coincidence.
Stranger still, was the fact that both his Second and Third In Command seemed to be insistent on standing as close to him as possible.
Starscream’s expression was bored and disdainful, as usual, but his wings kept twitching, like he was agitated. Megatron was struck by the compulsion to grab them and hold them still.
“You’re not really going through with this, are you?” Starscream asked. “The bidding?”
“You're concerned for my safety?" asked Megatron. “How odd and touching.”
“My issue is that it’s degrading. I fear for our lord’s image. Primus knows you could do irreparable damage to it.”
“I thought you would have no issue with that, Starscream.”
“How little you think of me. Not to mention, the thought of our glorious leader sharing such a rare and intimate experience with some inept idiot instead of the most worthy?” Starscream cocked one of his wings at a coy angle. “It makes me shudder.”
“It’s my frame.”
“It’s your loss. But it doesn’t have to be. I would simply hate for your first interface to be tainted by someone… less than satisfying,” said Starscream. His wing brushed Megatron’s back with a sultry swish.
“Safety concern: justified,” said Soundwave, on his other side.
“It’s thoughtful of you,” said Megatron. “But I can defend myself, if necessary.”
Soundwave was avoiding his gaze. He’d also been acting strangely.
“Yes, anyway,” said Starscream, slipping his arm around Megatron’s. “I hope you’ll reconsider this whole scheme, my lord. You're much too valuable to allow your frame to be carelessly desecrated.”
He was running quite hot, sucking up all the damned cool air, and Megatron frowned and tried to shake him off.
"Starscream, your flattery is not inspiring me today. Go run your mouth to someone who cares."
"Oh, in the right situation, I think you'll find my mouth very inspiring," purred Starscream, very close to his audial.
"What-?"
“Soundwave: will accompany you,” blurted Soundwave suddenly, clamping a hand on Megatron’s shoulder.
It was such an odd thing for Soundwave to touch him that Megatron’s attention completely fell away from the overheated menace clinging to his other arm.
“Soundwave,” hissed Starscream. “What are you suggesting, you idiot? Megatron said he doesn’t want you."
Soundwave’s grip on Megatron’s shoulder tightened. “First interface: can be overwhelming. Despite impressive physical prowess, Lord Megatron: may nonetheless find himself in a weakened and v-vulnerable state.”
Soundwave’s vocalizer crackled with static at the end of the sentence, punctuated by his fans clicking on.
“You too?” said Megatron. “It's hot in here today. I wonder if the cooling terminals are malfunctioning.”
“Megatron will be fine, Soundwave. Why don’t you go fix your overheating consoles?” said Starscream, voice verging on hysterically shrill.
Soundwave shot a glare at him, then looked back to Megatron excitedly. “Soundwave: will put a camera in Lord Megatron’s room during the act. Objective: watch for foul play. Every move: Soundwave will see.”
“Er. You’ve really thought of everything, Soundwave,” said Megatron, wincing as Starscream’s claws dug into his arm. “Very well. It’s a good idea to have my back in this scenario. An interfacing is a prime place for murder attempts.”
Speaking of murder attempts. Megatron grabbed Starscream’s wrist and pried him off.
“And now, I must go.”
He didn’t actually have anywhere to be, but his circuits were practically frying standing between the two of them. As he walked away, he could hear them squabbling.
“You sneaky little–!”
“Starscream’s game: weak.”
“Why you!”
Megatron left, trusting they wouldn’t kill each other over… whatever it was they were fighting about.
—
The Peaceful Tyranny was quiet this late in the cycle.
Nickel walked onto the bridge and noticed Tarn, still hunkered over his console.
“Oh, for the love of–” she slapped a hand to her forehead. “You’ve been sitting there for the last three cycles straight.”
Tarn didn’t respond, but was exactly as she’d left him the previous three cycles as well: optics locked on the screen, hand on the keyboard, ready to snipe the latest, highest bid.
Nickel crossed her arms. “You’re actively sabotaging the Deception cause by raising the bid, therefore refusing to let anyone buy–”
“LORD MEGATRON’S VALVE IS A SACRED ARTIFACT,” roared Tarn. “I PROTECT THE CAUSE BY PROTECTING IT.”
“What are you going to do if you actually outbid everyone else? Come clean that you have no shanix to afford it? Where will you get the money?”
“Frivolous details. Don't concern yourself with that. Our lord’s valve will remain pure.”
“Yes, but how exactly do you plan to keep it that way?”
—
Megatron looked over the report Tarn delivered. The DJD leader had, unexpectedly, solved the Decepticons’ financial issue single-handedly, no longer necessitating that Megatron sell his frame. The bidding had only been up for five cycles– Megatron was impressed by his efficiency.
Tarn also looked like he hadn’t recharged in five cycles. He was blasting an aura of menace, making every other bot in the throne room lean away from him in fear. More or less the usual.
Megatron lowered the datapad. “Excellent work, Tarn; tracking down the highest bidder and robbing them blind. Then murdering them. You’re truly an exemplary Decepticon. And,” he glanced back at the datapad, “I see you went above and beyond by doing the same to the next six highest bidders.”
“I will find the rest of them and make them suffer,” said Tarn, optics burning with malice.
Megatron raised a hand. “That won’t be necessary. We have plenty of shanix now, thanks to your efforts. I’ll have to reward you. Name what you want. Anything you like.”
Tarn made a noise that sounded like he had choked on his glossa behind his mask.
“A-anything, my lord?” he asked. His stare remained piercing, but his intent was now different, Megatron sensed.
There was a metallic screech at Megatron’s right. Starscream had clawed ridges in the arm of his seat as he curled his hands into fists. His Second leant forward, a murderous gleam in his optics.
Megatron glanced to his left, where Soundwave had also inclined his helm to stare murderously at Tarn. As murderous as Soundwave could look, with a mask on.
The rest of the assembled mechs leant forward with them, their full attention on Tarn.
Megatron had no idea what was going on, but having the sudden scrutiny of every mech in the room pinned on him made Tarn appear to hesitate. He seemed incredibly shy as he spoke again, tapping his claws together.
“Um. M-my lord. I-if it pleases you... And only if you want to, because, after all, it's completely your decision, I'm just your humble servant... I have a very audacious request... if I may be so bold..."
Sensing this request would take a while, Megatron waved him off.
“You don’t have to decide now. Let’s conclude this later. Shockwave requested a private audience. You’re dismissed, Tarn.”
Tarn looked disappointed, but bowed, and took his leave. The rest of the Decepticons present took that as their cue to file out after him.
Starscream and Soundwave lingered, still scowling at Tarn, but only briefly, before Megatron shooed them towards the exit. He sat up higher in his throne and motioned for Shockwave to step forward.
“I’m eager to see what you’ve designed. I trust this model was made to my specifications?”
Shockwave bowed. “Yes, my lord. The new design of my power rod is sure to meet your satisfaction. As you can see…” He lifted his arm, and transformed it. With a clunk, a thick, gleaming length of metal jutted from the appendage. “...it’s now ridged for your pleasure.”
From the doorway came the loud clatter of three mechs stopping dead in their tracks.
Then all pit broke loose, as Starscream, Soundwave, and Tarn rushed back towards the throne room. They reached the doorway at exactly the same time, and immediately became wedged in the frame.
“You shady bitch, Shockwave!” shrieked Starscream. He was leaving claw marks in the wall as he tried to pry himself out around Tarn and Soundwave. “As Second in Command, I get first dibs. Then Soundwave, and then you. How dare you assert yourself out of line!”
Tarn knocked Starscream’s wing out of his face. “Wrong as usual, Commander Starscream. You’re claiming something that cannot be claimed. Only freely given… to whomever Lord Megatron desires most.”
“And I’m going to make sure he freely gives it to me first!”
“All of you: inferior!”
Megatron pressed a button on the arm of his throne and remotely shut the door, locking them out and muffling their shouts. He turned back to Shockwave.
“You were saying?”
Shockwave’s optic blazed with an inscrutable emotion. “A demonstration will better serve to illustrate my device’s capabilities.”
Megatron eyed the thick girth; the bulbous head on the appendage, and rubbed his hands together.
“Then, by all means…”