Ep 0 - Serotype’s lab - side room - Thurs. Night

[steele]

This entire day had been nothing but one disaster after another for Serotype. The most recent disaster, having to call quarantine because Sniper accidentally dropped one of her specimens that afternoon, was by far one of the worst. Although she had managed to contain the virus before it escaped from her lab, that still meant that her lab had to be cleaned from top to bottom along with having to deal with Sniper being infected. It had been until the early evening hours before she could deactivate the quarantine. By that time, she was more than glad to see the spy leave. She was dead tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and to recharge. She didn’t do so right away as planned. She had to double check everything to make sure it all came up negative for traces of the virus.

When Serotype was satisfied with the results, she had locked the doors to her lab again and went to the berth in one of the side rooms to recharge. She knew that only two individuals could unlock those doors. One of the being herself and the other being, well, a certain war lord whom she was hoping wasn’t planning to pay her a visit just yet. She removed her blades and leaned them up against a near by wall. It made lying down much more comfortable for her.

It didn’t take Serotype long to slip in to recharge and stay there. Matter of fact, it was almost instant as soon as her body made contact with her berth. She recharged for four hours and was hoping for a few hours more. But that wouldn’t happen today.

Like everything else, things were going to get worse for her. Again.

Megatron had indeed decided to pay the scientist a visit. Though he could simply unlock the doors as he could any other on his ship, the Decepticon commander was in such a frame of mind as to tear them off their mountings and throw them with a mighty and resounding crash into the laboratory.

He stepped into the newly created scene of destruction with clenched fists, one slamming outwards almost incidentally into a monitor and obliterating it. Like his posture, field and visage, his voice was a catastrophic bellow.

“Serotype!”

The doors crashing down in her lab was the first thing to wake her up followed by additional sounds of destruction which was also promptly followed by her name being shouted. Serotype’s eyes snapped open. She winced at the shouting. There was just no avoiding this at all. Megatron’s anger rumbled through the lab like thunder and she knew that she’d be far from the eye of the storm. The cold chill of terror was wrapping itself tighter around her spark with each passing moment that the silver war lord was here. Even she felt scared. She tried avoiding it manifesting itself in her mannerisms. But she just couldn’t help it leak out in her EM field. Of course, that still didn’t help what she was feeling currently. She was pretty sure she knew what this was all about - The Quarantine incident. Serotype did not move from her berth. She just wasn’t ready to deal with the current one-mech hurricane in her lab just yet. Not while the possibility of said hurricane was in his current terrifying emotional state. Not while the possibility of her demise was still thick within the air. She stayed stiff lying there. Frozen.

Megatron didn’t need the scientist to respond to know where she was - the cold pulse off the femme’s frame pinpointed her quite clearly. He rounded through the lab and entered through the second doorway in much the same fashion as he had the first, moving in one fluid motion to slam his hand on the far side of Serotype’s helm. The solid mass of his body at the side of the berth cut off any attempt at escape, whilst his growling field snarled across and into her own.

“The activation of emergency lockdown procedures and high priority quarantine with a mech whom you have no business associating with in your lab,” he snapped at her, his tone rife with fury and great suspicion. “Explain yourself, doctor.”

Serotype’s frozen state didn’t last long. She barely had the opportunity to move when a fist landed near her helm. There was no getting up. No escape. Her vents cycled with a sharp gasp and a visible jump as that fist came down. His EM field a growling darkened mass.

“I...,” Serotype started, “.... I had mistakenly assumed he was an ally of Fairwinds. She was here a few days prior for assistance. Quarantine was called because there had been an accident, my Lord. I... I wish not to put any additional personnel in harm’s way.”

Her voice was some what shaky. This was EXACTLY the kind of situation she was trying to avoid. She was forced in to making eye contact and out of sheer terror, she couldn’t break that eye contact. She couldn’t even dare herself to look away.

The warlord gave a slick, cruel smile, his tone turning mocking. “We’re all ‘allies’, Serotype, remember?” Hardly true - though the entirety of his faction was united under the Decepticon banner and his own leadership, in-fighting and personal, private sabotage were as usual to inter-personnel activities as casual threats. “What did Sniper want?”

It didn’t surprise her to know that Megatron knew that the ‘ally’ in question was Sniper. The Nemesis had its’ eyes and ears and they were everywhere.

“.... He was here to gather information about my activities. My... my work draws a lot of curiosity. They seek my knowledge and skill for their own... of which I divulge nothing to them. My interest lies with The Cause and I am in service to that,” said Serotype.

“But not so devotedly that you risk infection from a bioweapon of your own making?” Megatron asked lightly, though there was nothing light about his tone. “Pray tell this wasn’t from clumsiness, was it?”

“It was not. It was Sniper’s doing, my Lord. He had dropped one of my specimens. That’s when quarantine was called,” said Serotype.

Megatron levelled her with a cold stare, optics narrowing but not moving a micron as the hand against her berth lifted away. He pressed the point of his index finger to a point on her chassis directly over her spark chamber, pressing just hard enough to breach through the paint to the primer but not actually dent. It wouldn’t have taken much more force, however.

“I believe it’s time, Serotype, for you to make yourself useful off this ship, and away from accident-prone mechs who happen to wander into your lab without cause and drop highly contagious and potentially deadly contaminants onto the decking.” An optical brow twitched up, daring her to disagree - the flicker of amusement across the crimson lights indicating that he perhaps wanted her to. It would be a slight excuse to kill her, but enough of one to make it a not entirely senseless homicide. “What do you think, doctor?”

Serotype could feel that one clawed finger pressing on her plating directly over her spark chamber. It was an unspoken threat for sure. If she said the wrong thing at this very moment, it wouldn’t take much for Megatron to punch a hole clear through her plating. She knew at this point in time that she was very close to having her life ended then and there.

But then there was just an element of hope to her otherwise dangerous situation. A chance to leave this ship.

“Useful... off ship? Are... are you referring to the task you have assigned me earlier...?” asked Serotype.

Her voice sounded shaky and uncertain and by all means it should be. Though the question itself sounded, if anything, stupid to ask. She wanted to be absolutely sure that this was exactly what Megatron may have had in mind instead of just simply stranding her in the middle of nowhere as a potential punishment. If this was the case, she had a fighting chance.

Megatron didn’t press his claw any deeper, but he did shift his hand in a hard scrape up Serotype’s chassis to jerk her off the berth by her neck, throwing her with no effort into the opposite wall immediately thereafter. It had been to make a point about his now-entirely evaporated patience than to hurt her. If he’d wanted her hurt, she’d be bleeding, not just mesh-bruised.

“Do not be coy with me, Serotype,” the warlord growled, stabbing a finger towards her as she pulled herself upright against the wall. He did so with his right hand, the massive cannon glowing hot directly above. “You will demonstrate that your work is useful to the Decepticons through application, or I will hand you over to Shockwave to perform his own experiments.”

A cruel smile, murderous but underscored with dark mirth. “You will do this without aid - no Sniper, no Starscream, and I will have you supervised by one of the higher-functioning Eradicons. Hoff will meet you at the spacebridge controls when you have gathered what you need to depart, and he will watch you. If you try to run or show that you are not worthy of that insignia, he will break you and drag your still-conscious body back here for me. Have I made myself clear, Serotype?”

Before she had a chance to brace herself for anything, Serotype hit the opposite wall hard with an audiable ’whumf.’ She was barely able to scramble to keep herself up right. Glancing upwards, she saw the angry glow and could almost feel its seething heat.

“Most... certainly....” said Serotype slowly “I... I can be ready as early as tomorrow afternoon.”

Megatron leaned the barrel of the cannon closer to her face, until its glow haloed in her optics, before closing his hand back into a fist. “Get it done.”

And with that he stalked out, leaving a wake of destruction in every intended sense.