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yourdoorisunlocked · 2 months

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What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 6

𝐀/𝐍: *Drops this and runs away* THANK ME LATER!

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒,𝟑𝟔𝟐 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ʟᴀʙᴏᴜʀ | ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ ᴘᴀʟᴏᴍᴀ

“𝑵𝒐𝒘, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚-𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒘𝒆’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘… 𝒂𝒅𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔.”

. . .

"And the budget for next month! Woof! I gotta tell ya', Doll, Alasta's been a real Godsent, ya' know what I'm sayin'?"

Hugo’s voice faded into a buzzing white noise as your thoughts drifted off yet again to your musings of the night you’d spent with a certain radio host, whose chiseled, soft features consumed your every waking thought.

Though the details were a complete blur, the sensation of Alastor’s warm embrace hugging around your frame was an unforgettable feeling that you’d be chasing for the rest of your days.

His addictive scent, laced with undertones of cinnamon and soft notes of expensive cologne had embraced you as you recalled his electrifying touch.

You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were surely holding a torch for the man, and according to Hugo, you were horrible at hiding it.

But honestly, who could blame you for falling so deeply? The past week that you’d spent with Alastor had been beautiful, as he had surprised you more and more with courteous, almost flirtatious gestures that grew in both audacity and frequency with each passing day.

Whether it be assorted, freshly picked bouquets that he’d set upon your bedside table for whenever you woke up, or beautiful dresses and tops that looked to be hand-tailored from a certain seamstress you’d become very well-acquainted with, or chocolates and sweets that he’d whip up himself, just for you, Alastor always delivered in full.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Alastor was trying to court you.

Really, it was like he was trying to make you melt on the spot with just how forward he was! It took everything in you not to swoon at his feet with each gift and memorable outing you shared.

“Hey, Doll? Ya’ go deaf, or somethin’?”

Blinking, you snapped out of your trance and wiped a subtle line of drool from your face as blush dusted your cheeks. Hugo narrowed his eyes at you with his hands on his hips as you pulled yourself back into reality.

“Sorry about that, sir. I was just thinking...” you smiled apologetically up at your supervisor, and you try not to tune him out as he starts rambling yet again. When will Alastor’s evening podcast begin, again?

“Uh-huh. Probably thinkin’ about your lil’ boy-toy in the next room over. Speakin’ a' Al’, I forgot to tell you that he’s workin’ overtime tonight. Told me to let ya’ know,” the blonde mentioned nonchalantly, startling you out of your daydreaming trance yet again.

“H-He’s working overtime now?”

Hugo groaned with exasperation. “Stars, Dollface, are ya’ gettin’ amnesic on me, now? Yeah, I was just tellin’ ya’, Al’s hours extended a bit. His request,” he shrugged, unaware of how you deflated in your office chair. You were really looking forward to your evening walk home with Alastor.

“Well, did he say why?”

Hugo shook his head. “Nope, didn’t mention a thing. But I can walk ya’ home, if ya'd like,” he offered with a bright, innocent smile, which brought your usual guard down, despite the risks. You’d always had a soft spot for the spiffing, young producer, since you’d always seen him as a little brother despite being your superior. It didn’t help that he acted like one, too.

And besides, Alastor would only give himself later hours if he thought about you in advance, wouldn’t he? He'd probably put Hugo up to the task of walking you home, the considerate sweetheart.

It wasn’t like you had any other choice, so with a soft smile, you nodded. “Sure! When do you leave?”

“Eh... Around five-thirty, on weekdays. Just thirty minutes after you leave, right?”

With a nod and a smile, you waved Hugo off. “Sure is. Now, get back to work, you! I have scripts that need editing.” He rolled his eyes as you scolded and dismissed him and made himself busy around the radio station.

Once the brilliant, baby blue sky had slowly begun to fade into a reflective navy with nary a star yet in sight, your workday had finally ended, and you were finally free to go.

With a relieved sigh and a stretch of your knuckles, you grabbed your bearings and met Hugo by the front door as a few people had begun filing out of the station. You supposed some others were working late, as well, since some of the usual faces weren’t racing home from work like you and Alastor.

A sudden reminder of your usual stroll buddy made you turn to Hugo hopefully. “Oh, Hugo, can I say goodbye to Alastor? I’ll be quick, I promise!”

Hugo chuckled and shook his head with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Doll. Al’ said he'd needed to be alone for a while at the end of the workday and told me to just get ya’ home.”

He raised an eyebrow down at your disappointed frown, and he was reminded of how it seemed you two couldn’t seem to spend an hour apart, let alone an entire day.

Throughout the day, Alastor had asked at least a dozen times if he could take a small break simply to spend time with you, but Hugo didn’t need you two love birds distracting each other, not since he caught the both of you spending your lunch break together in Alastor’s recording booth.

You had both spent twenty minutes past your break simply to chat and nuzzle noses together like a couple of awkward teenagers under the bleachers, until Hugo found you, though he teased the daylights out of you, rather than reprimand you. He knew better than to step on the toes of Al’s girl.

Jeez, these kids are hopeless, ain’t they?

“C’mon, now, don’t look so glum,” Hugo tried to be comforting as he put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure that Al' misses you just as much as you miss ‘im, so don’t get ya’self down.” He smiled down at you as you perked up.

“You think?” You peeked up at Hugo as he walked you out the door and onto the sidewalk with an arm slung over your shoulder.

“Got ya’ interest now, don’t I?” The blonde teased with a smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows, making you groan. “So, how’s it been down in good ol’ Lover’s Lane~?”

“I’ve already told you, Hugo, it isn’t like that!”

“Uh-huh, and I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“Well, that monkey won’t have an uncle if you don’t drop this!”

The walk home consisted of your teasing and playful back-and-forth as the sky darkened further, and the glow of a few streetlamps had been left as the only light source illuminating your path.

Suddenly, you halted right in front of the diner you and Alastor had tried from a few weeks ago, and Hugo stopped with you.

“Uh... Ya’ sure this is the place, Doll?” He looked around for a moment, surveying the complete lack of civilization around you, just a snug little diner tucked into acres of forest, and far from the city.

You shook your head up at Hugo. “Nope, I’m just pickin' up dinner for Al' and I."

“Aw, what a Doll. Alasta' should count 'imself lucky to find a lady like you,” he ruffled your hair with a grin, and you rolled your eyes and fixed your now ridiculous-looking locks.

“Alright, so, I’ll drop ya’ off here, but you gotta promise ya’ won’t get kidnapped, or somethin’?” You rolled your eyes up at him with a fond grin before fixing up Hugo’s hair with a flair of your own and met his playful gaze.

“I’ll be fine, Hugo. Thank you for walking me home. Now go on, get out of here," you batted at him playfully as he walked off into the night, laughter echoing off the sidewalks stretching past the lone diner.

“Take care of ya’self, Doll, for my sake?” Hugo called back as you waved.

“I will!"

Once he had left, you headed into the quaint restaurant, smiling at the new receptionist as you made your way down the aisle.

“Hiya! Can I get two bowls of jambalaya? To-go, please!”

. . .

The soft crackle of the fire and the mellow turning of pages filled the deafening silence in the living room of Alastor’s mansion, the peaceful atmosphere heavily veiling the inner worry that conjured up a whirlwind of a headache as you tried to focus on the book in your hands.

It was a romance that you were in the middle of reading, though it was surprising to find such a rarity in Alastor’s library, since much of his selection consisted of thrillers and horror. Though this book was no different, you supposed, since it consisted of a healthy amount of gore sprinkled in between scenes.

You had re-read the same sentence at least five times, before looking over to the grandfather clock sitting snugly next to the mantel. Your hourly disappointment had flickered into irritation with each glance you took at the old thing.

The smaller hand that seemed to slowly tick by had decided to pick that evening to speed up its journey against the clock’s marble face as the hours passed, and your worry grew.

It was now nearly midnight, and you were just about ready to start leading a torch-wielding brigade out into the forest to search for Alastor, when a knock jolted you out of your seat.

There’s only one man who’d stray out this far at this audacious hour...

You look past the kitchen to the front door and crept up to it as hopefulness and irritation conflicted with one another in your chest.

You opened the door with a sigh of relief as Alastor’s frame towered over you with his familiar smile, though you didn’t miss how it twitched slightly at the tips.

You watched him with a concerned gaze as he stepped inside.

“Terribly sorry for the wait, my dear! Truly, I apologize, but I had to take care of a few things,” You wanted to slap Alastor for worrying you to the brink of re-reading the same mushy paragraph for an hour and being so dismissive about his disappearing act when he finally returned, but you were too concerned about his well-being to let your anger fully boil over.

“Welcome home, Al’,” you hesitated for a moment, watching as he sped into the kitchen with purpose, clearly adamant on making you dinner in the middle of the night.

“Are you... Alright?” You raised an uncertain eyebrow as he started rummaging through the cabinets, either unresponsive or flat-out ignoring you as you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

With a hesitant step forward and a reluctant sigh, you placed your hand on Alastor’s shoulder and tried not to flinch away as he whirls toward you with wild eyes.

“Hm? Is there something that you need, my dear?” Alastor inwardly cringed at how relentlessly cheerful he sounded, like an overworked mascot at a run-down theme park.

You give the man a once-over, glaring at him, unimpressed as you noted how disheveled he looked. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

You pinched your nose bridge with an exhausted sigh. He really didn’t want to be easy about this, did he? Alright, then. Time to be the bad cop.

“First, you come back home at an ungodly hour, looking like you’ve taken a tumble with a rabid racoon and lost,” Alastor rolled his eyes at that comment, “Second, you’re running around the kitchen the way you do whenever something’s bothered you. And you know that you can tell me if something’s bothering you,” your eyes soften towards him as you reach up and unclip his bow, and Alastor’s eyes follow your delicate, soft hands as you place it on the counter and smooth out his the front of his rumpled dress shirt.

“Look... I don’t know what’s going on, or what’s bothering you, or why the hell you came back so late, but...” your concerned gaze trailed up his form, and Alastor nearly shrunk like a raisin under your scrutinization.

“But you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“Anything?” Alastor pressed, his foolish heart answering the call for him as your voice grew hopeful, begging him to open up to you.

“Yes, anything. I mean it, Alastor.”

A silent moment fell between the both of you, one in which you felt as if all the tension in the world had suddenly been sucked into the kitchen, tightening the air as you held your breath and waited for Alastor to say the word, to tell you whatever was going on.

No matter how gruesome his actions, no matter the cost, you’d stay by his side. You’d bury the body and wipe the fingerprints; you'd dispose of the witnesses and give the police station false tips. Anything to keep Alastor safe. Anything to keep him by your side.

And Lord knows that you’d let the man get away with murder...

You can only sigh dejectedly as he gives his answer with apologetic eyes. “I’m afraid not, my dear. Besides,” he rubbed your shoulders soothingly. “I can get along just fine, don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”

Alastor, goddamn him, had flashed the most heart-warming, knee-buckling smile down at you, genuine and unwavering, and nearly all of your resolve evaporated in an instant. How funny, how you both had such an effect on one another without the other noticing.

Alastor nearly cracked under your gentle touch, and that word, that ‘anything’ had begged him to prod you. Test the limits of your loyalty, of your attraction to him.

And Alastor was sure he wouldn't be disappointed.

But Alastor’s head, the instincts of a predator, the mind of a realist, had grounded him down to earth. The radio host knew better than anyone not to mix business with pleasure, and that involving you would risk your finding out about his line of work, and his... tendencies.

You sighed, your grip tightening on the counter before stepping back. Alastor never pried into your life, and it wasn’t your business to force him into telling you anything. “Alright... If you say so. But I’m always here, Alastor.”

A hesitant hand carefully inches towards his, and a soft gasp of surprise leaves your lips as Alastor’s hand comes to encompass yours with a squeeze.

“I know, my dear. And aren’t you just a sweetheart for looking out for me~?” You couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed with him as he tucked a hair behind your ear and fluffed up your hair, before stepping away towards the stove.

“Now, if you’ll allow me, I’m afraid that dinner is quite overdue.”

“About that, I’ve already gotten a little somethin’ for the both of us, so you don’t need to worry,” Alastor raised an eyebrow, a strong wave of déjà vu hitting him as you pushed him out of the kitchen, before pulling out the two bowls of jambalaya you'd gotten from the diner.

You’d warmed it up quite nicely, and though the meal was delicious, it couldn’t have even compared to the wonderful dish you’d made Alastor your first night sleeping at the manor, as he’d remarked several times during dinner, reveling in your flustered blush at the endless stream of praise.

After you’d both had your fill, and Alastor finished washing the dishes, you both started to head up to bed, and you tugged on his sleeve with a serious look.

“Please, please try to get a good night’s rest, Alastor,” he chuckled softly down at you, as if your concern was completely unbased, but you didn't laugh, clearly adamant about him taking better care of himself.

What a good little wife you’d make, taking care of him, cleaning up the house for his arrival, editing his scripts and making him dinner, though Alastor hated the thought of you having to lift a single finger in his stead.

Alastor filed those thoughts away for later as he smiled gently and cupped your cheek with his hand as he bent down to your level, his pointed nose nearly brushing against yours. “I promise, darling. I won’t worry you anymore,” before a scarlet blush could fully race across your cheeks, Alastor abruptly stood and patted your head with a grin. “Now, off to bed with you. I’d feel simply terrible if you lost sleep over me.”

Huffing in disbelief, you ignored the burn flaring against your cheeks as you turned on your heel with your nose in the air. “You’re lucky I care for you, so much...”

You grumbled all the way back to your room, though you cast another weary glance at Alastor as he retired for the night into his own bedroom.

His prominent slump in the way he walked, the slight limp in his footsteps, it all seemed so obvious to you that something was horribly wrong. But if he wouldn’t open up to you about it, you couldn’t do anything but watch your friend suffer, and you hated that.

Still, there was nothing you could do but lose shut eye as you fret over Alastor most of the night, tossing and turning as you struggled to get sleep while wondering what in the world Alastor was doing, creeping around in the dead of night, and wondering what had happened to him.

Honest to God, Al’, if you give me one more reason to care about you...

. . .

Unfortunately, despite your pleads and Alastor’s poorly kept promise, the evenings that followed had spiraled into a concerning routine for the radio host.

You could only watch with worry that slowly burned into frustration as Alastor would arrive home during near midnight, start dinner, – but eat in his own room, which pleased neither of you – and leave you downstairs with a tired goodnight, and rinse and repeat.

The mornings hadn’t fared much better, either. Instead of Alastor taking your elbow in his, humming a little tune as he walked the both of you to work, he’d wake up at a baffling five in the morning and leave you with a quick spot of breakfast and some money for the bus fare.

It was an endearing thought that showed Alastor still thought of you, but it did nothing to shake your concern for him.

Upon the fifth night of this draining charade, you were on the brink of tearing your hair out by the bunches. Fuck respecting Alastor’s boundaries, you couldn't watch him destroy himself anymore.

You had very thoroughly planned to corner him about this, but while waiting for Alastor’s return on the couch, the hour was so late that you had fallen asleep beside the fireplace.

It was only in the very dead of night that you were startled out of your uncomfortable place on the cushions by the click of the front door, and you looked over to the clock to see it was two in the morning.

About goddamn time.

Somehow, Alastor knew you were downstairs as soon as he entered the house, and didn’t flinch, jump, or even blink as you magically appeared in front of him, glaring up at him with ire. Or perhaps he really was just that exhausted.

“Hello, darling.”

God, he just looked so tired, so done with whatever was getting him down that it nearly broke you down. You hated seeing Alastor like this, drained and sapped of all his usual, passionate energy that had once drawn you in for so long.

“We need to talk. Now.”

You didn’t even wait for his response as you gently took his hand and led him into the living room, the ticking of the grandfather clock and the short, frustrated breaths you exhaled filling the tense air between you.

You forced yourself to be stern with Alastor as you sat across from him with your legs crossed and arms folded as your sharpened gaze scrutinized him.

Rubbing your forehead, you sighed and muttered into the awkward air, “Okay, I think it’s time that we’ve talked about your work hours.”

You rolled your eyes as he started with his usual excuses.

“I’ve told you, I’m doing just fine, darling. I promise, I'm still eating, and I'm just dealing with a few things-" you cut him off with a hand in the air, before leaning over and taking his hands in yours, trying at a less confrontational approach.

“But why? Why work yourself to the bone like this? What could possibly be stressing you out so much, and for so long? Alastor...”

Said radio host sighed softly, unable to meet your pleading eyes. Alastor truly couldn’t answer your inquiries, no matter how much you begged him.

He’d lose everything if he told you half of what went down behind closed doors, when the rest of society wasn’t paying attention to him.

Perhaps someday... But not now. The time just isn’t right.

“I... I admit, I haven’t been as attentive to you as I should’ve been. I apologize, truly.” Alastor’s fingers grasped yours as he stared into the wood carvings of the table legs. “I just don’t want you to worry over me. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

"No, that isn't... Please, Al', just... Let me help you this time,” you sniffled and brought his chin up to meet your eyes that were on the verge of tears, and Alastor knew he couldn’t say no. Goddamn him if he ever let you cry because of his actions.

“Alright... You win, my dear,” he complies, albeit reluctantly, but the sheer joy that coursed through you was too alleviating for you to notice Alastor’s defeated posture as you literally jumped over the table to hug him.

“Good. Don't you scare me like that ever again, you."

You squeezed his midsection into an embrace, and it was then Alastor noted how comically short you were compared to him.

"I promise, ma chère."

He pet you with a chuckle, his other hand coming around to rub your shoulder as his mind was already racing back to the radio station, and your new arrangement.

"What does that mean?" You looked up at him from where you were, and Alastor simply shook his head and ran his hand through your hair.

"Nothing you should worry yourself over, darling. Now, I believe the matter at hand calls for a discussion," you blinked as he stood up and twirled you around, enjoying your delighted stream of giggles.

"Now, we should discuss the matter at hand," he pulled you into his chest with revived energy and you landed with a soft 'omph!'

"I believe that you, choosing to... Help me out, as it were," you raised an eyebrow as Alastor practically choked it out.

"Should imply that you are willing to become my assistant?" He raised an eyebrow down at you as your eyes widened with delight.

"Oh, yes! That'll be perfect!" You pulled closer to him with stars in your eyes, and Alastor's smile - not strained, nor exhausted of all energy, a real, genuine smile from him - grew as you beamed up at him.

“Don’t get too excited, now. Being my assistant is no easy task.”

You shook your head, grounded in your idea. “It’ll be worth it, if it helps you.”

“If you say so," Alastor grinned down at you. There it was, that relentless need to please him and care for him the way he did for you. Doing good brought its own rewards, he supposed. "But this will only work if Hugo allows it, you know.”

“Oh, boo! He’ll go with anything I ask of him. Worst-case scenario, he’ll tease me until the cows come home,” you pulled away from Alastor and crossed your arms, unaware of how he tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"I suppose that's a given... Though, I think he'll be just fine without you. The only real change will be your working area," you brightened at the prospect of being able to spend time with Alastor in his own work area, just the two of you, alone, and for the entire day.

"Then again, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of you running about the streets, running my errands for me...”

You shrug. “I’ll be fine! I didn’t manage to get kidnapped when I got you dinner that one time, so I’m sure I can handle myself,” you waved him off with a dismissive hand, and Alastor’s eyebrow raised.

“And wherever did you get our dinner from the other night, dearest?”

You flushed at the nickname and muttered, “Oh, just the diner across the road...”

“And what have I told you about wandering off, without me by your side?”

“It was one time! And I survived, so I’ll be alright! Just trust me,” you took his hands with pleading eyes. “Just have a little more faith in me? Please?”

“Oh, my pretty little assistant... What shall I ever do with you~?” Alastor curled a hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, enjoying the rapid thumping of his heart as pure contentment consumed him from the feeling of your skin against his.

He grinned down at you as you groaned and buried your face into a pillow, the smug bastard.

Though the gentlemanly of him was absolutely appalled at the idea of you lifting a finger to help him, Alastor figured that perhaps having a little helper around to deal with the less... gruesome aspects of his line of work could be fruitful.

He’d get his job done faster, and you’d be even closer to him than ever before.

And he’d have his shadows to send to your side to keep an extra eye on you, and he’d be there in a flash to come to your aid. Plus, this would be a delicious opportunity to indulge in his little assistant fantasies that had been consuming him as of late.

It would be all the more easier to woo you when you were so close to him, wouldn’t it?

“Now, darling, for you to become my fully-fledged assistant, we’ll need to make a few... adjustments.”

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Ok, so I am about to drop some Alastor-based BANGERS next chapter. I'm trying to focus more on the plot for now, so expect more development in the story later.

But first, let's all take a break from the beloved deer man and give Vox some love (totally not biased in any way whatsoever) because I've been starving everyone in Vox Nation 😭 So I gotta leave ya'll hanging for now.

See you next time!

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid, @slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #yourdoorisunlocked #✨tHe pLoT tHiCkEns✨#Buckle up for the next chapter lmao #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #yandere alastor x reader #possessive behavior #obsession

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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months

Text

Looming Doom

Megatron knew Orion Pax, and he knew Orion the named Prime. Both came from the same place and were made of the same spark. A former friend, a lost brother, and a worthy foe. They were on opposite ends of the war, but they understood one another in a way no other could.

Megatron had hoped to end the war peacefully, but when the mech he knew was replaced with an abomination, he knew that to no longer be an option.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Megatron was no fool. He was well aware the the war was largely based on a misunderstanding that was taken too far and inflated by those in power. Orion Pax had not intended to take the rank of Prime. Megatron had long accepted that truth. The only reason their war still raged was because Orion wished to keep things the way they were, at least in part. He wanted to change things slowly, to give the Senate a degree of power. Megatron on the other hand wanted nothing more than to tear it all down. What was short term suffering for long term gain?

What was once a small disagreement argued over drinks turned into the basis for their respective creeds. But even with that said, there was always a sense of possible reconciliation. There were peace talks periodically, and more than once he and Orion came to agreements that benefitted them both. War was still waged, but agreements and treaties were slowly lessening the fighting. Peace was on the horizon, one that both Megatron and Orion could work toward and find a happy middle in.

Then Orion changed.

Not a spark knew what happened to him, not even Orion. When questioned he had no memory of where he went or what happened, merely that he had been altered. He vanished one cycle on the battlefield, remained MIA for almost a full vorn before turning up on Decepticon lands looking gaunt and out of sorts. Out of pure kindness, the Prime in name was returned to his faction even as the Senate tried to claim the Decepticons were the ones who hurt him in the first place. It was a bunch of slag, and for the most part, mecha had enough common sense to see the truth of the matter. Whatever happened to Orion Pax was not Decepticon in origin, and that became more and more clear with every passing cycle. The former archivist had always been full of life, but he was thin and emaciated. He hardly spoke and seemed to be lost a lot of the time. His memory faltered, and from what Megatron's spies confirmed, he was slowly degrading more and more. Not even Ratchet, a world renown Doctor, was able to do anything. The Autobots covered for their ailing leader and the Senate took the chance to try and have more sway. They were largely kept at bay by the raging Autobots, but it was still a looming threat.

Orion only appeared for three more peace talks and showed up for a mere two conflicts before he ceased turning up for anything. Those few instances showed him as weak, sickly even, far more so than reports indicated. He couldn't seem to think clearly and often clutched his helm in pain. His optics were unfocused and when spoken to, he hardly registered the words. He was hurt in a way Megatron could not comprehend, and he was not given the chance to assist before the Senate had their favored champion shipped off to a location of their choosing to try and repair him. Despite the anger he held toward his former friend, Megatron worried for him. Orion had never once shown such agony before. He was always aware and calculating, cunning in his own right. To see him practically unable to comprehend where he was as he held his helm in pain... it startled Megatron.

Sending in Ravage to observe Orion only made him more firm in his need to do something about the situation. According to what Ravage reported, Orion was hidden in a bunker and spent more time suffering in his berth than anything else. Scans showed that there were strange spark signatures coming from him, and his systems were shutting down in the strangest way possible. It was as if all nutrition was being siphoned away from him and being given to a different source. No matter how much the Autobots gave him, he only got weaker and he stopped responding to anything for the most part. But what concerned Megatron the most was when Orion would convulse and strange green fluid would seep out of his vents.

He remembered clearly the cycle he finally decided he could no longer wait around to see what would become of his foe. If Orion was going to die, he wanted to be there for it, if only as a comforter. The affliction his foe faced was inhumane by any standard. Even Megatron could acknowledge that. They were not on good terms, but they were brothers once. It was his duty to see what the situation was, and if nothing else keep the information to be used to the Decepticons advantage. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Perhaps Orion had been kidnapped and was suffering from an illness he picked up. Maybe he had been shadow played and was fighting off the effects. There were a thousand and one possibilities. What he saw was most certainly not one of them.

"Orion... what in Primus's name happened to you?"

"Megatronus. It hurts. It hurts. Make it STOP-!"

He had not even needed to break into the facility his reports showed Orion to be holed up in. The Prime in name was wandering around the destroyed battlefields miles away from his supposed base. Not a spark was with him when Megatron landed, and his former friend seemed to be in a daze up until Megatron spoke. Orion screamed and clutched his helm, his optics shining so brightly as to be painful to see. Then he fell silent and continued in his aimless march, his pedes dragging and his gaunt frame heaving with every step while that disgusting green fluid trickled from his vents in a constant stream. It was a morbid curiosity that led Megatron to follow his mentally unstable foe. He did not need to follow for long though.

As soon as Orion entered into a desolate area with plenty of energon signatures nearby, he stopped dead in his tracks. He remained eerily still for a long time, twitching periodically. Megatron watched in silence, recording everything and transmitting it back to Soundwave. Then Orion screamed. It was an agonized sound, one that could have only come from one being torn apart from the inside out. Orion doubled over, he clutched his chassis and wailed in pure torment as he began to purge. First it was just energon that he expelled, but as the kliks passed by and Megatron watched in growing horror, organs and other internals quickly joined the growing mess on the ground.

He reached out to help more than once, but Orion's field was vicious and brutal. Not only that, but he could not longer be sure that whatever was happening wouldn't transfer to him. Megatron could not risk it... and so he could only watch on as Orion seemed to clear his frame of anything of worth, finally collapsing entirely onto the ground. His optics flashed only once more before he fell still and silent, his field vanishing as a sure sign of his offlinement. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave, but at that point Megatron did not even have enough time to process the loss of his foe and former brother before Orion's frame twitched again. Only this time there was no return of a familiar field. No, instead the frame that belonged to Orion Pax rose to its pedes and stood, it helm limply hanging and its posture akin to that of a puppet held on strings. The optics of the deceased mech before him flared, and then haunting words echoed from a body that should have been incapable of speech.

"Leave. Do not impede efforts to develop. Mission must be accomplished. Insufficient energon for gestation completion. More must be collected."

Mandibles chattered as whatever the thing was tried to speak. Orion's face split and his limbs contorted as the thing butchered Iaconian dialect. And just like that, the walking corpse dragged itself into one of the many crevasses that were sure to lead to energon deposits. Megatron did not remain and took to the skies as soon as the thing was gone. He should have killed it, looking back he firmly believed that is what he should have done. But the loss was so fresh and the thing so unsettling that he simply could not at the time.

He wished he had. He wished he had blasted the abomination into molten metal. At least then Orion could have rested in peace. As it was, he returned to his territory and shared with Soundwave all he had seen. They briefly tried finding the thing, but wherever it went, it was impossible to track. After a few stellar cycles of no word and absolute panic from the Autobots, they agreed that whatever the thing was had made itself scarce, as was for the best. Soundwave had theories about it being a parasitic creature of some sort, a mutant caused by the chemical warfare going on in the general area Orion had been found in. Starscream, upon seeing the data, thought that it could perhaps have been a phenomenon of a corpse moving after death. There were records of such a thing, but it did not explain what happened to Orion in the first place before he perished. Megatron had no theories of his own. He didn't care to consider what happened beyond the consequences. He had no intention of ever using whatever killed his foe as a weapon. It was not only disgraceful, but needlessly cruel.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to move on... but then a familiar face met him on the battlefield roughly six stellar cycles after Orion's death. He did not wish to believe it, but a powerful build, red and blue plating, those cycling optics... there was no mistaking the frame of his old friend and foe. Orion Pax stood before him, but there was something horribly, intrinsically wrong.

"Megatronus of Kaon. Lord of the Decepticons. You have seen more than intended. The threat you present is extreme. Surrender or an offer of peace will be accepted. Failure to comply will result in your extermination at my convenience."

"Don't you DARE call me that you abomination!"

"Your aggression is noted. To my understanding you had a connection to one Orion Pax. Compensation for that loss will be in the form of an amicable peace treaty should you agree to ending this war."

"Maybe once I would have accepted such an offer from Orion Pax, but you... you are a monster I cannot allow to live."

"Your emotional response is highly irrational. You would continue war for the sake of your personal interest? If it would soothe you, do know that I have no intention of causing any damage to your kind if there is an alternative."

"Allowing an abomination to rule over the Autobots is just as dangerous as the Senate having control over Cybertron. I don't care what your interests are. You killed Orion Pax and act as him. Both you and the Senate must be eliminated."

"How unfortunate... although not unexpected."

The thing, whatever it was, walked away from the battlefield without an concern for Megatron's reaction. It was cold, calculating, and driven by some goal he did not even try to understand. From that point onward, the thing was hailed as Optimus Prime, chosen of Primus and bearer of the Matrix. How the thing got the Matrix to comply with its will was something Megatron was unsure if he wanted to know or not. The Autobots adored their new leader, although Megatron did note some concern amidst Orion's old companions. Optimus Prime was a strategic genius and met Megatron at every turn. Their battles were fierce and the thing improved with every survived clash. It was rage inducing to watch the thing become better at blending in with every passing cycle. Did the Autobots not recognize how foreign its field was? Did they not sense the animalistic nature behind its far too Cybertronian optics? Did they not see the way in which it carried itself, its gaze always lingering a while too long on the dead and dying?

Optimus Prime was an abomination, a looming doom. Megatron fought his war for freedom, but now he had an additional goal. He needed to destroy whatever Optimus Prime was and ensure that it never rose again. Even if he destroyed the Senate and took control of Cybertron, if the thing lived, it was an unknown threat, one that had already proven to have at least a bit of backing from some source. How else would it have gotten the Matrix and Orion Pax's frame? No longer was his war just for freedom, but also to ensure that Cybertronians as a whole were protected from the threat of the pretender that controlled the Autobots.

His fears regarding the thing that called itself Optimus Prime only grew when the supposed Prime dropped off the map for several stellar cycles. He had vanished for deca-cycles at a time before, but whole stellar cycles? that was concerning. He directed all his effort toward hunting down the abomination while Soundwave directed the war. And through some miracle, he found Optimus Prime wandering the dead lands with something in its arms. Megatron for his part arrived with every intention to slaughter the abomination quickly and be gone. But before he could, the Prime turned to him coldly and Megatron's spark froze at what he saw.

In the Prime's arms was a larva, a huge creature akin to an isopod and almost as big as the its forearm. The larva had optics all over its insectoid face, although they were dim and unfocused. The thing was covered in plating and its mandibles chattered incessantly. However that was not what horrified him the most. Instead what shot fear into the very core of his being was the fact that the larva was obviously changing. Its plating was a rusty almost yellow color, its face was smoothed and its mandibles seemed to be slowly retracting. Its clawed legs were becoming hidden and far too Cybertronian digits and limbs could be seen developing behind layers of protective plating. The thing that called itself Optimus Prime had spawned.

"You seem to have a habit for seeing that which you should not."

"What in the Allspark-"

"I am aware you came with the intention to destroy me, but I would ask you refrain for the time being."

"Why should I?"

"My directive is clear, my orders unchangeable... but myself and my creation are a failsafe, one meant to preserve. To destroy us would only be a detriment, at least right now."

"What the frag does that mean?!"

"Our time has not yet come. For now, we remain hidden and we will not cause undue damage. But the more you see, the more you try to understand... it will only force me to eliminate you and your kind. Do you understand?"

"To the pits with you abomination!"

"How foolish."

He tried to fight, but before he could act, the Prime broke into a sprint that would put speeders to shame. Even as Megatron took to the air to keep pace, the monster was dutiful and hurried into a hole in the ground before he could do anything. Optimus Prime and its spawn were unable to be touched. From that point onward a certain yellow scout became Megatron's secondary target. He could see that the scout was far more Cybertronian than his creator. He felt, he blended in, and he seemed to not even know what he was. Megatron would one cycle need to kill him, but until the scout presented true signs of being like the pretender, he would be left alone. Megatron was not fond of killing young, regardless of their origin.

He half expected the Prime to spawn more as the war raged. But it simply never happened. The scout was the only one, and for that Megatron was thankful. The Senate was long gone by the time the war reached its peak. Now all he needed to do was eliminate Optimus Prime and its followers. He would allow the scout to live so long as he never spawned. He simply needed to ensure that Cybertronian kind were safe...

Optimus Prime's display of horrendous limbs and fangs after he hurt the Prime's spawn was more than enough to have Megatron reaffirming his belief that, whatever Optimus was, it needed to be eliminated for good.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #bumblebee #megatron #soundwave #eldritch abomination #pretender au #mystery #the plot thickens #who do yall think was involved in the making of the pretender?#:) I love making these kinds of au's

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