No Rest For The Weary

Crimson eyes glinted in the artificial light, watching the flurry of activity around him. The mech found it amusing that those who had once served him as Megatron made no comments toward his change of tactics. Skywarp, chest still sore from Hook's patches ran cabling around the massive chamber that served as the Decepticon's base of operations until they could expand further into the Mammoth cave system. The Western half had 'mysteriously' suffered a massive cave in resulting in the shifting of a previously unknown fault line running through the system, courtesy of Rumble's sonic pile drivers. Currently they had the western part of the system converted for their uses, the formations that made this system famous were removed to make way for the bulkheads and equipment being constructed on the walls. Thundercracker was busy working on the wiring of several panels, his back to Galvetron. Though each time he turned his head, he would shudder in revulsion and turn back to his work, trying to forget.

Galvetron's form was partially to blame for his discomfort, but the larger part was held on a chain at his feet. The short chain clinked, the femme turned her head listlessly to one side to observe the progress through dim optics. The chain was so short that she had no choice but to literally nuzzle herself against Galvetron's leg like the female subject of a cheesy Harlequin novel's front cover. Starscream imagined that this gave Galvetron an immense ego boost to have her forced to be so close to him.

Starscream gasped as the chain was roughly pulled, her head slowly rising to meet her new master's optics. She already knew what she would find there, and resigned herself to her fate. The femme was led like a dog, crawling on all fours, knees scraping the loose gravel, to the rear area, still without lighting. Galvetron sat in a Stalagmite formation that mimicked a throne, holding the chain tightly in his left hand, forcing Starscream's optics level with his waist, making no sound to indicate his desires. He already knew his pet understood. Starscream lowered her face, knowing she was forbidden from using her hands. She slowly gave hard bites to Galvetron's pelvic armor, using her serrated teeth to trail over the sensitive protective armor that closed his interface cable off from contaminates on the outside. Starscream knew that Galvetron had kept her hideous visage for a reason, humiliation. The same reason she was kept on a short leash and forced to move on her hands and knees. The slow humiliation was pleasure in itself to Galvetron, and the mech loved to watch Starscream's optics dim each time she was ordered to service him.

It wasn't the pleasure of their joining that kept the leash around her neck, though that did play a part. Galvetron loved power, especially when he wielded it over someone else. And he took particular pleasure out of humiliating Starscream. The Seeker had had the audacity to assume control of the Decepticons. He had had the nerve to seduce others to his cause with promises of Decepticon victory and the Autobots crushed under their heels. And he had had the gall to lie to one of Megatron's most trusted lieutenants about his plans to recover his old leader's remains. Galvetron gasped as Starscream nibbled on a particularly sensitive spot, soothing the sting away with her glossa. Though the femme did have her uses. She seemed adept at pleasuring another and Galvetron wondered just how many lovers his lieutenant had had over the vorns. Perhaps he should ask, though right now he was having too much fun with his pet to care one way or another.

*********************************

IronHide's optical guards lowered slowly, fixing the medic in front of him with a look he reserved for new recruits when they had just been caught over energized on high-grade. "Repeat that again, Ratchet. Without the medical gibberish." The dark yellow Autobot had just spent the last fifteen minutes explaining the situation without any word of it making any sense to IronHide. Sometimes he had to remind the medic that not everyone else was 'blessed' with his knowledge.

Ratchet bristled before calming himself enough to speak without shooting IronHide in front of Chromia. "I said, Ellie has the same spark frequency as Optimus." At the blank looks he elaborated. "You two know how rare it is for two sparks to resonate as one. They call to each other, as you know," Ratchet explained, referring to the bond the two Autobots in front of him shared. "Bonding to another's spark who calls to yours is not mandatory nor does not bonding jeopardize either mech's existence. However, it does make functioning in close quarters almost impossible, which is why Optimus has been avoiding your charge these past few months." Ratchet fully expected to hear the whine of IronHide's weapons charging, but the black mech just continued to stare at him.

"Does Ellie know this?" IronHide turned to Chromia who just shook her head. Ratchet, however was not surprised.

"She doesn't have enough knowledge of Cybertronian physiology to understand why she gets distracted when he is around. She's convinced that nothing will come of it and that he avoids her because he already has a mate." Chromia smirked, her processor buzzing with all the possible ways she could get the two alone together. Either there would be spark-bonding or a blood curdeling scream as Ellie beat the snot out of Prime. Either option was just as fun as the the other to Chromia.

"So...that over-chivalrous piece of scrap metal," IronHide annunciated every syllable with clipped and forced patience. "has been driving himself and Ellie insane with his over inflated sense of...of...I am assuming that Prime has sense left?" Ratchet stared at IronHide. The mech was more than willing to blast a hole into the twins and Mirage but he was not ready to do the same to Prime. Perhaps the medic had underestimated the weapons specialist. Then again, that was not a hard thing to do.

"Leave that to me, IronHide," the grin on Chromia's face started a low rumble in IronHide that turned into full out laughter. "I've been dying to get those two together the moment I saw them look at each other. Ellie won't stand me trying to convince her, so I will just have to show her." Chromia practically rubbed her hands together in anticipation, laughing manically like some cartoon villain about to hatch an the biggest of evil plans. Both mechs hoped that they would keep out of Chromia's sights when she got into her scheming moods. The last thing they needed was to wake up painted pink with paper flowers glued to their armor. Not that she had not threatened to do something similar to Prowl on all those occasions the mech had refused to let IronHide out of the brig early. They had retaliated by making so much noise as to be mistaken for an invading army. Though that would usually be followed by several more orns in the brig for both of them.

Ratchet held up his hands, backing away from the scheming femme. As much as he would like this idiocy to end, he was not going to let himself be drug down by helping Chromia in any way. Nor was the medic going to dissuade the femme. Once she had a plan formed in her mind, not even an entire garrison of Decepticons could stop her from carrying it out. "Count me out of any direct involvement." Ratchet chuckled. "Though...if things get interesting, put me down for a front row seat. I, too am curious as to their true feelings on the matter."

IronHide shushed her when she tried to describe what she wanted to do with a his hand covering her entire face. "No, you don't femme! The less we know the better chance we have to escape the fallout. You just do what you need to do and let us know when the fireworks start." This elicited a grin so wide Ratchet was convinced he would have to recalibrate the pneumatic pistons that controlled the plates in her face. Both mechs knew that if they got involved they would be spending a few weeks in the brig, and that was looking on the bright side. But if just Chromia was involved, then she would easily be forgiven. That was their plan at least. Now they had to figure out what to do to distract the twins and Mirage.

*****************************************

"Keep your arm steady, let it follow your optics," Mirage smiled as Ellie relaxed, letting her own targeting sub-processor take over the movements of her arm. He had to admit that her weapons were impressive, though they looked absolutely out of place on a femme in his opinion. Most mechs of his social standing thought of weapons on a femme as the epitome of distasteful. However they were needed sins against the demure nature of all femmes if they were to survive in these dangerous times. Though the way this femme relished the feel of a large gun reminded Mirage too much of Chromia. 'I shall have to help her to rid herself of that misguided need," he thought. "Right, now as soon as you have a lock on your target, you may engage your firing mechanism."

Ellie grinned, imagining her finger was tightening on an imaginary trigger. The plasma cannon on her left arm hummed to life, charging with energy in a high pitched wine before screaming out of the barrel of her arm, the recoil making her wince, though she was not thrown as she was the first time she had used her cannons. Her target, an older M1A1 Abram tank had its leading side turned into a puddle of melted slag, what was left of its body tumbling away with the force of the explosion. "Remind me to thank Ratchet." Ellie almost expected some half snide comment about her love of big guns, but when silence was her only answer, she turned.

Ellie rolled her optics. On the ground, Mirage lay, knocked out cold from the recoil of her shoulder hitting him square between the optics. leaving a rather nasty dent the size and shape of her elbow in his face. She almost laughed. "Poor little pretty rich boy." Ellie shook her head as she slung Mirage limply over her shoulder. "Too bad you can't walk your talk..." She was about to take the blue mech to Ratchet when she spied two figures headed her way, both with identical grins on their nearly identical faces. "I'd rather take 'rich boy'," Ellie grumbled, turning her back on the twins, knowing that neither would be deterred until she got within sight of the med-bay. Over the past few days she had gotten to hate the twins as much as IronHide, even begging him if she could use them as target practice when they clung to her like her shadow.

Ellie sighed, resigning herself to her fate when the two caught up with her, walking one on either side of her. "Wow, what did Mirage do to you?" Sideswipe had to start the games, determined to annoy her into killing him if it killed him. "I mean, I know he's pompous and all, but did you really have to shoot him?" Ellie nearly shot Sideswipe, opting instead for the most patient answer she could muster.

"He just got too close to my elbow and got hit by the recoil." She ignored the snickers from the red and yellow mechs. "Damn rich boy wasn't going to keep his hands to himself otherwise..." Ellie ground out, referring to the fact that Mirage's hands like to wander around her waist when she was trying to aim. This little side trip could teach him some manners, Ellie supposed. But she seriously doubted it. Now if she could just teach the two hounding her some manners her day would go by so much better. But she was in for no such luck as the two started shooting banter across her to each other, trying their best to get Ellie to answer or make a comment which they would respond with something lewd. Ellie kept track of Sunstreaker out of the corner of her right optic, waiting for him to do something stupid. Something stupid he did when he queried his brother on the perceived difficulty of two mechs mating with one femme.

Ellie hoped that Mirage would at least understand as she took his unconscious body in her hands and swung him by his ankles, hitting Sunstreaker in the midsection. The larger yellow mech went tumbling to the ground, cursing and fuming as he shot to his feet. His words, however, died as he came up to Ellie's cannon aimed directly at his face. Now this was familiar. Perhaps the family resemblance went deeper than the body type. "One more word, 'Sunshine'," Ellie knew that Sunstreaker hated being called Sunshine after Sideswipe mouthed off at him and had to have several dents pounded out of his aft. "and I will shoot off something more important than your head." She lowered her weapon to the junction of his hips, watching his face slacken, his lower 'lip' trembling. "Good boy," Ellie smiled, patting Sunstreaker on the head with her hand as it transformed back, turning to continue her trek toward Ratchet's med-bay.

***************************************

"Primus, Ellie!" Ratchet exclaimed, watching the femme drag the beaten body of Mirage behind her like a raggedy doll. "What the fragging pit did he do to you!" The look on her face, however was enough to quiet any further questions as Ratchet lifted the smaller mech onto a table and began to take in his heavily beaten frame. "May I ask what transpired to elicit such a reaction?"

"He got too close behind me when he was showing me how to fire my cannon. I think my elbow caught him." Ellie leaned against a near by wall, sending a puff of air through her intakes.

"Were you practicing on top of a mountain? Mirage looks like he fell all the way down." Ratchet watched Ellie's face, noticing the dark look that crossed it as she crossed her arms. "What else happened?" Ratchet asked, getting out the CO2 wielder to start getting the small cracks sealed up.

"'Sunshine' and 'Sideshow' happened." She snorted, seeming to become very interested in her fingers.

"And you saw fit to beat the living slag out of Mirage?" Ratchet's deadpan was belied by a tight grip on the wielder gun and slowly rising internal temperatures.

"No! Sunstreaker made a comment on what it would feel like to have two mechs on one femme and I took Mirage and smacked him." Ratchet stared at Ellie for a moment, his face slack. He made a curious noise that reminded Ellie of a can of shaving cream that was almost empty. The medic could only hold his composure for a few moments longer before he burst out laughing, leaning over Mirage's frame, shaking with mirth. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe chose to appear in the med-bay at that instant, Sunny sporting a Mirage sized dent in his midsection, blue paint marring his beautiful frame.

Ratchet lost it, pounding his hand on the table Mirage was laying on, rousing the blue mech from what ever stupor he had been in. His groans drawing an ugly look from Sunstreaker. Mirage was wearing little streaks of sunshine all over his armor, turning his royal blue paint sea green. Ellie was left in the middle, not sure if she should beat Ratchet over the head with something as the medic told Sunstreaker to wait for him on the other side of the med-bay. He also included something rather 'creative' to occupy himself with which caused the yellow mech's jaw to drop open. Where in the pit did Ratchet find out he had experimented with power receptacles when he was a youngling? He had thought that rather embarrassing episode was behind him when he had nearly shorted his entire system out trying to see if his interface cable would fit.

Drawn in by the noise, Prime poked his head in, optical guards rising until they nearly left his face. Ratchet had controlled his laughter, but he was still breaking out in snickering fits, directing his looks at Sunstreaker who looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and expire. And was that paint transfer on his and Mirage's bodies? And what in the slag had happened to Mirage? He looked like he had tried to take a flying leap off of the Hoover Dam face first to see what it would feel like. Ellie was on the far end of the med-bay, looking like she wished she was anywhere else as Sunstreaker eyed her with such contempt Prime was hard pressed not to laugh.

The small tug on her spark turned Ellie's head toward the door, her optics meeting Prime's for the second time that week. Both were unaware of four sets of optics watching them, and two sparks sinking in disappointment. Sunstreaker had sworn the femme off. He wanted a femme who appreciated the work that went into maintaining his looks, not someone ready to grab the nearest mech by the ankles and play 'Beat the Cyber-Pinata' with their heads. Sideswipe and Mirage however found the situation a little less heartening. How in the pit could they compete with Prime, let alone a spark bond?

Both mechs pouted, watching as a rather amused femme guided the two stupefied Autobots into a closed off area at the back of the med-bay, shoving both in before they could protest and locking the door with a complex series of code-keys. All four mechs swore that the giggling Chromia was the most evil femme ever created.