Work Text:
“Are you ready to speak yet?”
“Think I’ve been doing plenty of talking. Didn’t think describing my favorite kind of energon treats was so boring you blocked them out.”
“The tactic has been noted, yes.”
“Tactic? And here I thought we’re getting to know each other. Sharing pleasantries and bits about ourselves. You still haven’t told me what your favorite holo-opera is.”
“I’d rather talk about why you let yourself be apprehended.”
“Let myself? I don’t know if I’ve been overestimating y’all or y’all think too highly of me.”
“I know very well you were only seen because you wanted to be, Meister.”
“Aw, Prowler, you’re gonna make me blush.”
“You’re incapable of it.”
‘Prowler,’ aka Prowl of Praxus, Head of Tactical Enforcement and third-in-command of the Autobot Army, didn’t even blink an optic. He continued to stare Meister down as he leaned back as much as he could with his hands cuffed to the table and the chair being very uncomfortable for someone of his height. They could have gotten a nicer chair, really, it was kind of rude of them.
“You’re a tough crowd to play for, Prowler,” Meister said, “but I didn’t let myself get caught and I’m pretty sure the boss-mech ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out about it. Really puttin’ me in a boot here.”
“Megatron is not known for being pleased with failure,” Prowl agreed, “but if you were cooperative…”
Meister barked out a laugh. “Oh, you thought I meant the prime-slayer himself? Nah, mech, I ain’t high up enough for that.”
Prowl paused. “You’re speaking of Soundwave, your direct superior.”
“Now there’s a perfectionist mech if I ever met one,” Meister said. “You two would probably get along, now that I think of it. Want me to hook ya up? As long as ya don’t mind cohorts and pass the Ravage test…”
Prowl’s doorwings did react then, but only minutely. Enough for Meister to know he was having an impact, but not what kind. He had studied plenty of Praxian doorwing language in his time, but Prowl was an opaque one, he’d give him that. It was hard to see what he was thinking, except he was thinking in numbers and probabilities and efficiencies.
Yeah, he and Soundwave would have gotten along real well.
Well, if it weren’t for the war going on, that is.
Megatron taking out Sentinel Prime had been the highlight of Meister’s cycle, especially since he got to watch it go down first hand, seeing the way he fought, then cowered, then demanded like he had any right or power to demand anything when the Senate was dead and Sentinel had his wings ripped off in front of everyone there – and abroad, Soundwave had made sure it was broadcasted on every frequency and stream they could. They’d proven to everyone what a false prime Sentinel was, ripped open his chest to show the matrix hadn’t even been there – fed the doubts that it existed, proven the truth of stolen valor and corrupted government using lies to hold onto power – and then Megatron had crushed his spark for all to see. They wanted everyone to see, to know the old regime was dead.
May the spark descending into the Well be judged worthy of absolution, because the Decepticons sure weren’t giving any.
(If Primus was real enough to care, he shouldn’t be giving any either.)
They had thought they had won, that things would be better and Megatron would take control after they swept through and removed all the stragglers, when they made the rest of the Twelve Cities accept the new world order.
Meister hadn’t cared as much about that. He hadn’t joined the Cons to change the world. He’d joined the Cons because there wasn’t any way he’d be joining the Senate. He saw the glyphs on the wall like anyone with half a processor.
(Saw the path to getting what he wanted was a lot easier signing up with the Cons and he didn’t care about anything else at the time. It had been all too easy a choice to make.)
Sure, maybe Megatron had taken things a bit too far. Killing the Senate and then going after their families, their units, their cohorts…maybe that was too much. But they couldn’t trust them. Just like they couldn’t trust even a fourth of the nobles coming out of the Towers to do right by the people and not try to slip back into the old status quo. They’d seen it happen too many times before, empty promises of change, propaganda of peace built on the broken struts and fried processors of those at the bottom of the pecking order. Of the removal of anyone who cared enough to try and make a change.
(Everyone remembered what happened to Shockwave. Hard to forget when he was providing the Cons with weapons that left Meister questioning if they were trying for a revolution or something else. Something Meister wasn’t going to think about right then.)
And if they had to pick the extreme response over the possibility of them doing this all over again. Yeah, Meister could get it. Didn’t make it easier, didn’t mean he had to like it…but he got it.
Which should have meant there was nothing standing in their way…except then the Autobots showed up. A guerilla army of mostly working class mechs – and the science class, Tower mechs, and a whole damn coalition of too many castes to count – ones who hadn’t liked how the Cons were doing things. Didn’t agree with the new distribution of power and the way Megatron wasn’t done with taking more of it. So they fought back, refused to bow their heads, and suddenly what should have been a rebellion-turned-revolution had turned into a civil war.
Only the Autobots had a Prime on their side.
Meister hadn’t seen him in person yet, but he’d seen the video feeds, read the reports. Soundwave had been working over time and all of his mechs with him to find out as much as they could about this new Optimus Prime.
Everything they had learned was that he showed up during the last assault on Iacon, directing forces, fighting Megatron directly and pushing the Cons back out of Iacon and turning it into their stronghold. Not that the ‘Prime’ had stayed in Iacon. Oh no, he’d been all over half of Cybertron. Helping out the run down villages on the outskirts of the big metro-states. Transporting energon to the fuel deserts. Relief efforts after the acid storm caused a flood that nearly took out half of Tetrahex, the tiny little city-state that it was (before the Cons took it over.)
He may as well have been slagging Primus himself with how he was going on performing miracle feats and yet still managing to skip out in just enough time to avoid being caught by any Con units in the area.
Either that or he had a very dedicated team of mechs on his side making sure it happened. Mechs like one Prowl of Praxus. It took a special mech to have the likes of Prowl, Ironhide, and Elita-1, of all mechs, stand by his side (and maybe she was the one that stuck out the most but Meister wasn’t going to think about why it maybe-kinda-hurt).
Which made him a curiosity and Meister sure did love teasing out curiosities.
And so maybe he did let himself get noticed on a camera or two. And maybe he didn’t get out as fast as he could have. He would give credit to the little minibots that caught up to him, they sure gave him a workout and almost were able to follow him through the ventilation system! Sure, the one got stuck on his back kibble, but hey, it was the effort that counted, right?
He hadn’t let them catch him, but he maybe hadn’t worked as hard as he could have to leave. Because he knew it would get him closer to where he wanted to be.
Sitting in an interrogation room with Prowl hadn’t been that ‘where,’ but it was getting closer and closer.
“Decepticon Soldier, Standard Polyhexian Compact Racing Model, unlisted for mods or outlier abilities, Lieutenant 2nd Class…yet hand chosen by Soundwave himself for his Intelligence, Communications, and Infiltration Division.”
“Yeah, I know, wild isn’t it?”
“So you admit that your rank is incongruous with your current position?”
“No, I meant it’s wild that Soundwave has all those duties under his hood. They say the more trusted you are, the more work ya get, ya know? You’d know all about that. Look what extreme competence gets ya. Couldn’t be me.”
Prowl’s optic twitched. He saw it. He could have stirred the pot even more by pointing it out, but Meister was being polite to his host.
“It appears extreme competence gets you regular high-risk missions and direct supervision by Megatron’s most trusted advisor and third-in-command. Although, I’m more impressed with how much of your records are redacted or completely blank.”
Meister is more impressed that Prowl was able to access those records. Where had he been deep diving? Who had they been talking to? How much of the old archives were still available. He thought he’d scrubbed most of them.
“A mech should get to have some mystery to him,” he said. “I mean, y’all Bots been all about the mystery, lately, haven’t ya?”
“Have we?”
Meister smirked. “Teasing everyone with your new Prime while keeping him hidden until he shows up like some hit-and-run. Don’t see me coming around demanding your secrets, do you?”
The door behind Meister whooshed open. Meister’s wings ticked behind him, his audials perked up.
He couldn’t see, but he could feel the change in the air. Prowl didn’t respond, still leaning over Meister, hands pressed into the table, but his wing shifted just a millimeter. Steady but soft steps followed. A broad shadow covered him, blocking out the light dangling above. Meister tilted his head, to get a better view, just as the shadow moved around, stepping around the table.
“If you think we are hiding something, we would be glad to explain things to you more clearly.”
“I didn’t approve any such explaining.”
“A good thing that we can discuss it now.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. We don’t need to hand information to a Decepticon.”
“It is not as if we expected this to remain unknown forever. It would defeat the purpose. We must show ourselves to be different than they expect, show ourselves to be as honest as we claim we are.”
Warm blue optics turned to him. “Excuse us, it was rude to speak over you that way. I heard you were interested in seeing me.”
Meister said nothing. He couldn’t. Not when the music in his mind skipped like a scratched record. Not when he was looking at the twisted joke of a spectre coming to haunt him at the most inopportune moment.
A lot of mechs had similar color schemes – especially when for thousands of years the functionists only allowed certain models to use certain palettes for Organizational Purposes – but a red and blue mech with clearly some kind of truck mode? Broad as a piano and servos thicker than the keys on one. A too familiar-looking helm with twitching, curious finials. He’s seen some blurry stills from the fights, heard descriptions…but seeing the mech up close was a whole different instrument.
If Primus existed, he sure did like playing games on ol’ Meister. The kind of games that had his spark stinging in his chest and him stretching his hands out just to avoid clenching them into fists.
Get it together, mech. They’re watching ya.
“Oh, you could say that interest went up a whole lot more,” Meister sat up more, his bound arms settling more comfortable against the table rather than pulling away from it. He ran his servos over the links of the chain binding him to the table. Nice sound to them, really.
The towering mech nodded. “Understandable, really. I am Optimus Prime. I felt that given your cooperative behavior, we could meet properly as a show of open communication.”
If by ‘cooperative,’ he meant the way Meister was talking in circles just to annoy Prowl, sure. Guess he had earned himself something. Good that they could recognize that.
“A face-to-face with the Prime?” Meister whistled. “You really know how to make a mech feel special. Would more good behavior get me a Private Audience?”
Meister had never been one lacking in confidence – and even when he did, he just played the right notes until it showed up – so teasing Prowl, teasing the Prime…it was nothing. Shouldn’t have meant anything. Prowl clearly hadn’t found any of it amusing.
The wide optics and darkening cheeks said the Prime was not as unaffected. Those finials twitched. Meister had his attention. Good.
“Ah…” The sound hung between them. Meister leaned forward. “We’ll see if our talk continues to be so cooperative.”
Meister smiled, hands clasped together and maybe leaned just a bit too far forward, back arched, bumper extended – a little bit of mass shifting he’d picked up from Soundwave’s cassettes – and his right wing gave a little wink of its own, flicking up and down in. Definitely got the Prime’s attention there. Prowl's doorwings were very offended by it.
“I know how to be real cooperative, for mechs who know how to ask nicely,” Meister replied.
“Thank you,” the Prime said, voice deep and rumbling like the engine Meister knew was behind those oversized windshields. “I know we cannot expect your trust and honesty in such a situation, but I would like to learn more from you. I want to know more about the Decepticons from a Decepticon, rather than from video propaganda and reports.”
“Ah, Megs sure does like his speeches,” Meister mused. “Real persuasive, getting to the spark of things for a lot of people.”
“He does,” Prime agreed, “but his speeches did not create our situation as it is now. Speeches did not topple the Senate. Will not build a society. Speeches are intent, but they are not action. What I have seen…does not align with the speeches I have witnessed. These choices, these actions, do not match the words of the miner who rose up to lead a movement.”
Oh, didn’t that sound familiar? Hadn’t he heard something similar not long before? Hadn’t he heard concerns about words and actions.
// ”Something’s changed. I’m worried. I don’t know if he’s listening to me as he used to. …I don’t know if he agrees with me like he used to.”
“That’s why they’ve got you. You’ll remind him about why you’re doing this. Keep things on track. They listen to you, too, ya know.”
“You think so?”
“Half the dockworkers wouldn’t have signed up if you hadn’t convinced them. Whoever is crooning in his audials, we can handle it. We’ll talk to him. Get him to back off some of that stuff he’s been hearing from that senator from Vos.”
“Talk is important, but it’s intent. Not action. Our actions lately…I’m worried things are heading in the wrong direction.”
“Then we’ll hash it out before the next rally at the docks.”
“Since when are you the one sounding so optimistic?”
“Guess it’s my turn to step up. I’ve never heard you doubt yourself being able to talk someone out of something stupid before. Besides yourself, anyway.”
“Haha...Maybe you’re right. We’ve always been able to talk it out. We can work this out, too. The Decepticons mean something. We can’t forget what that is.”
“That’s my mech.” //
Too many things didn’t make sense, except in a way that they did. And they made sense in a way that made Meister want to stab someone. But he didn’t. Not yet.
“Talking about his speeches, when you’ve got your own silver tongue?” Meister tilted his head. “Keep going. I want to hear just what ideas you’ve got in mind instead.”
“Is that so?”
Those finials shook up and down. Meister couldn’t help but think of how cute it was. Not the thing he should have been thinking about the Prime, but there it was.
There was a flicker of color off the ceiling. Behind the Prime. A vent. Something inside the vent. Well, that was his cue.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Meister asked. “I like to hear all my options. I’m loyal to the badge, to the Cause, and all that yeah? But I like to listen. Maybe if they had you giving more speeches, people would be listening. Have you heard your own voice? Down right lyrical.”
Had the blush on those cheekplates gotten darker? Soft blue optics crinkled. Despite the mask, it was obvious the Prime was smiling. “That’s–”
“Noted.” Prowl spoke in such a pointed way, he may as well have smacked his hand against the table. The look he sent the Prime’s way was positively melting. It was the most reactive the mech had been the whole time they’d been in the interrogation room. “Now, we may not know as much as we would like about you, Decepticon Meister, but what I do know says that you’re someone much more valuable than you give yourself credit for. Someone whose skills exceed what you give yourself credit for, as well.”
“Still trying to slick me up,” Meister commented, but he didn’t look Prowl’s way. His attention stayed focused on the Prime. “Guess, we’ll have to put that to the test.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, right, right,” Meister nodded. “I’m not explaining myself. It’s more like excuse me? I do have a prior engagement. And as much as I’m enjoying getting to know you, the boss calls.”
Meister raised his hands, the chains falling off easily as he’d unlocked the code on them some time before. He tossed the chair back and rolled back easily, somersaulting to his pedes just as the lights went out.
“Hold it!”
His visor switched to infrared easily and he could see Prowl had pulled a blaster from his subspace, but he couldn’t see where Meister was. Mester moved.
He should have gone for the vent. The open vent where it was obvious a certain cassette was waiting for him. But instead of making his quick escape before Red Alert – a mech even Soundwave respected – caught on and locked everything down…Meister didn’t.
He danced around the table, dodging Prowl without a sound even as the mech tried to put himself in front of the Prime. Too bad his tac-net meant he couldn’t get the typical infrared visual cortex upgrades like most Enforcers. What a coincidence for him.
He didn’t use his taser, but he did use his magnets, right to the crux of Prowl’s neck at the base of his helm. Right where he was the most vulnerable. The hand clamped with a clink to Prowl’s neck and he sent a specific pulse rhythm right into his circuits.
“You really should loosen up a bit, these cables are tight,” he said, just as Prowl dropped. Had he been a bit nicer, he might have caught him.
Meister wasn’t feeling particularly nice.
“Please tell me you haven’t harmed him.”
The Prime stayed in place, not moving towards him, but not trying to get away either.
“Nah, he’ll wake up soon enough. The reset might even make him feel better than he did before he took his little nap.”
“You were waiting for the chance to do that,” the Prime stated. “You knew how to get to Prowl. Make him want to be the one to interrogate you.”
“Of course ya’d think he's the most important mech in the room, even when you’re the Prime.”
He stepped over Prowl, doorwings high even though the Prime couldn’t see them. He hadn’t had them for too long -- had gotten them as a statement for himself and taken a real liking to them -- but he’d gotten real good at expressing himself with them. A pity the Prime couldn’t see it. He didn’t hesitate to touch him, sliding his hand up his chest plate, over those windshields…right to his mask. The Prime didn’t move. Meister could tell his hands were still relaxed at his sides.
“Was all of this just to get at me, then?” he asked. “Did Megatron send you here to scout me?”
Meister chuckled, pressing right up against the Prime. “My mission was maybe about stealing data from your head tactician, but that’s just the mission. I don’t always follow the music. I like to make my own.”
Suddenly, a hand was grabbing at his. Pulling it close.
“How…?” The Prime’s optics were wide, and Meister could tell his words had unsettled him in a way none of his flirting had. Those eyes were so full of confusion. Recognition.
Oh, no.
“Time’s up,” Meister cut in, not letting the Prime say anything else. “We can catch up next time, OP. Promise.”
He grabbed the Prime around the neck and jerked him down so he could press a quick little kiss on his battlemask, then he ducked, spun out to sweep his legs from under him. The Prime hit the ground with a heavy crunch – ouch, might have landed on Prowl a bit there – and Meister took off, easily scaling the wall.
“Wait!” The Prime called out, rolling to get back to his feet. “Jazz!”
Meister was already through the vent, not looking back. He reached one of the many ventilation intersections just as the alarms started blaring. Didn’t take him long to get out of the base, just long enough to avoid Red Alert. Didn’t take him too long to get back to the rendezvous point. Did take him a while to appease Ravage enough to not have her claw his face off right then and there, but the little chip of data he’d swiped from the Autobot databanks – without having to hack Prowl’s processor directly, he might add – was enough to cool her ire.
And on the way back to their own base…well, Meister would have a lot to think about.
Like why Orion Pax was alive after he’d been killed in the dock riots, the ones instigated by the Senate and blamed on the Decepticons. The very same riots that had upended the entire path of the Decepticons and proved to Megatron how little peaceful protests changed anything. How ineffective it was to try and change the system the ‘right’ way. It hadn’t changed the Senate. Nothing had changed the Senate.
Hmm…Starscream and Soundwave killing them all was a kind of change.
Orion Pax had been the leader of the union movement, one of the upper ranks of the newly founded Decepticons…and he’d paid the price for it.
Orion Pax was dead. Orion Pax wasn’t a Prime.
But he’d know that mech anywhere.
Not that the knowledge made anything easier for Meister.
But it did mean next time he broke into an Autobot base, he knew exactly who he’d be catching up with.
He did promise, after all.