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Drabble Rabble	By : Chaosdreamer Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3377 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I am making no profit writting these stories.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Title: Assistance
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Rating: R. Slash. MegatronxOptimus Prime
Summary: Sequel to Conversion drabble. Fulfilling a request for murr_miay on deviantart, who was gracious enough to ask for a sequel to my humble drabble.

Quite a huge compliment from an artist I admire! So how could I say no? XD

Hope it doesn't disappoint, hun!

MegatronxOptimus Prime
Assistance
(Sequel to Conversion)
*Because murr_miay kindly requested a sequel…

“I repeat!” Optimus Prime ducked, avoiding the blaster fire, shouting into his open comm. link. “My team has met unprecedented resistance! We need immediate assistance—nnnghhk!!” The Prime was thrown backwards, the cerulean blast searing through his shoulder.

“Prime!” Prowl weaved and flipped through the air, using his thrusters to avoid keenly aimed shots. The cyberninja snagged Optimus’ wrist, pulling heavily at the larger mech, “The organics are too organized. Bumblebee is down. Ratchet and Bulkhead are cut off!”

“gggn..” Optimus Prime clutched at the gaping wound, the edges of the open injury cauterized by the heat of the blast. “F-Filthy meat bags.”

Across his comm. Optimus Prime hears the answering hail, the communication garbled by static and the Sumdac Tower’s shield causing heavy intercommunication interference, “…*ggkkt*…Optimus Prime….” The fire truck recognizes Shockwave, the mech’s cultured voice calm under pressure, “…br-king uppppp…sttatuuzzzz…w-whheere…*ccckktt* coordin¯”

The squad commander and cyberninja duck as a shock grenade sails over their position. Drone soldiers squealing as the electrical pulse fries their mainframes. The two Cybertronians snarling as the electricity crackles across their dermal plating, scorching the metal, but not fearing the same demise as the bumbling drones; their CPUs not upgraded with the quality of firewalls and neural systems such that the two Decepticons were Sparked with.

“This is squad commander.” Optimus Prime crouches down behind the concrete barrier that he has hastily constructed in the middle of the street. “Sumdac Tower has organized a massive strike force combined of organics and security drone units. The techno-organic is supervising the attack. Can not draw close enough to counter with hand-to-hand combat. Weapons are no use against the techno-organic ‘Sari’.”

“Ack….ged…squads…fou….and five…will rendezvous in…en kliks…”

“We won’t last that long!” Optimus Prime shouts over the comm. link. His vision is growing fuzzy. Energon loss draining reserve power cells, adrenal circuits firing at max capacity, “There won’t be anyone left by the time that slagging techno-organic is finished blasting away this sector!”

“Incoming!” Prowl wraps his thin arms around the Prime’s shoulders, jerking them both out of the way as another missile is launched towards them.

The impact of the missile hurls the Decepticons through the air. A loud wail of agony piercing forth from the cyberninja’s voice box as his helm and shoulders crack against a concrete building. The teetering column of crack enlaced concrete and rebar groans, tumbling, burying the slim black and gold offlined Decepticon.

The Prime slams down hard, rolling along the street until his back strut crashes into an overturned car. His pede hangs by several wires from his ankle, right shoulder dislocated and an optic cracked, optical glass pitch black. “PROWL!!”

A wash of heat roars above him. The hot afterburn of humming thrusters, the tiny being hovering above the fallen Decepticon.

Optimus Prime snarls, ruby optics watching the techno-organic’s every move. “Annoying insect…” The Decepticon spits in disgust.

Sari Sumdac’s cerulean eyes stare down in resigned remorse. “Optimus…please don’t make me do this…” The young techno-organic pleads. The planet’s orbiting sun a backdrop behind the cream and peach plated youngling, haloing the small femme in a spill of gold light.

Optimus chuckles darkly. “You’re overly familiar. Very presumptuous of you, since we’ve never met.”

“Optimus!”

“Shut up!” The Decepticon snarls, “If you’re going to do it, then do it!”

“……” Sari slowly raises her hand, a bead of blue light glowing, steadily pulsing and expanding until a basketball size orb of glowing light thrums against her palm. “I’m sorry.” She whispers.

His single working optic narrows at the hot burning light, unconsciously cringing, waiting for the final strike.

A loud roar engulfs the street. The techno-organic shrieks in surprise, then pain, a lavender blast engulfing her. Once the blast disperses, the young femme collapses to the ground in a heap, plating scorched black, black and blue protoform sparking through her organic dermal layers, arm sheared off at the elbow. Agonized blue optics flickering as she struggles to resist falling into stasis lock.

Optimus Prime slumps over, vents overheating, moaning softly as a gusting gale of wind roars through the street. A massive Decepticon intergalactic vessel breaking through the stratosphere, plumes of white clouds dispersing to reveal the black and lilac leviathan as it slowly descends upon the organics’ urban city.

The Prime’s frame drops slack, sprawled across the battle ravaged street pockmarked by raging fire and ringed pits of concrete and shrapnel, his flickering ruby optic fading into black. Emergency stasis lock claiming him as his injuries and energon loss prove too much for his systems to restore at a quick enough rate.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

SYSTEMS REBOOTING…

RECOVERY PROGRAMS INITIATED. WORKING AT 76% AND RISING..

SLEEP MODE DISENGAGED. ONLINING IN THREE..TWO…ONE…

“Mmm…” Optimus moans softly as he onlines. A trembling, weak hand slowly rising to hesitantly touch the smooth, undamaged skin around his repaired optic. His other wounds sting, metal dermal plates welded over the soldered wounds.

“You’ve finally onlined.”

The Prime blinks, tilting his helm. “L-Lord Megatron…”

The warlord sits on the side of the berth. Avidly watching over the mech, Optimus’ CPU slowly gathering itself, his memory files sketchy at best, “What happened?” Optimus’ voice is whisper soft, a hand spread over the array of medical-issued plating over his shoulder and chassis. Restoration systems slowly mending where the wide metal plating can not reach.

“Your distress signal pulsed across all available communication lines.” Megatron lays a large black hand over the wounded mech’s red chassis, “The Vengeance was the only vessel capable of reaching the planet with enough time to salvage the mission and scrape you and your squad off the ground before you were deactivated by those small insects.”

“The…techno-organic..”

“Still functions.” The tyrant’s sneer is ugly as he smiles cruelly at the memory, “I doubt that the femme and her creator can gather enough supplies to provide adequate repairs after my soldiers razed the city to the ground. While she will continue to remain online, the necessary repairs will halt her meddling. My soldiers will probably face little to no resistance now as they continue their sweeps across the planetary land masses.”

“…I’m…sorry..” His speech is slurred, the analgesics and repair systems dulling his CPU, “My teammates were injured…because I..did not anticipate the organic…resistance…”

“Silence.” Lord Megatron counters his command by leaning over, lapping at the Prime’s lips. Humming in approval as Optimus whimpers softly, pushing up into his Lord’s caress. Their lips regretfully separate with a wet pop of suction, Megatron running his thumb over the mech’s face, “The mission was resolved while you recharged. Now you must gather your strength and recover.”

“…the others…”

“Online, and currently tormenting Ratchet with their moaning and whimpering while they remain in the Repair Bay. Lockdown’s ship rendezvoused several solar cycles ago after he heard about the incident, and he and the cyberninja are reaffirming their…relationship as we speak.”

Optimus Prime smiled slightly, “The bounty hunter wasn’t pleased that Prowl suffered injury.”

Megatron grins toothily, “His irritation only benefited my soldiers. Lockdown’s ship scorched half of the city called Detroit in his fury, until Shockwave assured the bounty hunter that Prowl was nowhere near deactivation, and that Lockdown’s temper risked drawing fire too close to several Decepticon squads.”

“Sounds like Lockdown at work.”

“Hmph.” Megatron runs a possessive hand up and down the Prime’s chassis. Optimus sighing into the caress, shivering as the hand descends downward. Limbs trembling traitorously as the warlord traced his fingertips down and over his codpiece. “I seem to recall a conversation not too long ago that if I was forced to enduring dragging you out of a skirmish that you would repay me with compensation.” Megatron purrs. The warlord hasn’t forgotten his warning of Optimus repaying his master with his body.

Optimus Prime shivers, “I doubt I can provide suitable amusement in my current state.” Ignoring the sting of his wounds, his thighs spread. Plating snapping open, and he bites his bottom lip as Megatron’s fingers delve between his hips.

“I’m sure.” Megatron’s spears the mech’s port with two fingers. Nipping at the Prime’s lips as his fingers thrust in and out, lubricant trickling in response to the confident invaders. “I’ll be kind enough to amuse myself with only my hands until you are adequately recovered.”

Optimus gasps, moaning as the warlord leans over again. Wrapping a shaky, enervated grip around his master’s neck, “Just be gentle…” He cautions, mindful of his wounds, “I swear that I will make up for the inconvenience on a later date.”

“Of course you will.” Megatron teases the tight rim of the mech’s port, laving Prime’s throat with glossa and the edges of sharp fang as he partially straddles his berth mate, bracing his weight above the mech’s prone frame to avoid further injury. “For right now, this will suit me just fine….”
- 4
- 5
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