Chapter Seven | Protection

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 "When we love someone, we make it our business to protect them."  

~Donna Goddard, Waldmeer

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Predaking stalked around the halls of the warship in search of his creator, silently fuming. Though he wished to second-guess himself and give Shockwave's judgement the benefit of the doubt, the fact that he had been lied to bounced around in his processor incessantly. Shockwave had lied about using Ripclaw's body to experiment with a human. As if the desecration had not been enough, they had deceived him as well. It made him wonder what other secrets they were hiding from him.

The creator's scent lead him to a laboratory, one he recognized well, opening the door to a surprised Knock Out, who practically ran out of his way as he approached the ever-calm Shockwave. His anger rippled from his frame in droves, and yet even that did not faze the Cybertronian.

"You lied to me!" He snarled, slamming his fist on a countertop. "You destroyed Ripclaw's body for the sake of a human experiment!"

Shockwave did not even flinch, having anticipated that one day Predaking would find out. He had to assume that Predaking had put two and two together himself and did not actually know the truth, venting slowly as he gazed at his creation.

"Ripclaw's clone was dying," Shockwave answered monotonously. "She was the runt of the pack, and nature was taking its course. I let her pass away quietly, as a mercy. June Darby was merely secondary to what had happened; had she not been present Ripclaw still would have succumbed to her underdeveloped spark."

"And yet June lives inside her!" Predaking hissed.

"I was able to make modifications to the failed spark and, using the Cataclysmic Theory, created a spark that was able to run on its own, without prompting from a supernatural force," the scientist explained, only the first part a complete lie. The rest was true.

Predaking looked away, his servos curling and uncurling. He was processing the information, picking apart every word in search a deception, a weak link which would indicate that he was still being taken for a fool. "Is it . . . possible that June could retain some of Ripclaw's memories? Similar to how my predecessor's lives within me?" The Predacon asked carefully.

"Perhaps, but I do not know for certain," that was all true. "But, to prove such a hypothesis her memory suppressors would require removement, and that is a risk we are not willing to take."

The Predacon's claws continued to flex in agitation, his back struts twitching. He was unsure what to believe; though Shockwave's explanations made sense, so had his previous ones, the lies. Was the scientist afraid that, should Predaking know the entire truth, he would kill him in his rage? To replace Ripclaw's persona with that of an organic creature was like a slap in the face, an insult the the Predacon kind, but if she had truly been dying . . . then he supposed he could not fully reject their scientific endeavor. All the same, though, it was morbid to think that her body was being used as a puppet for a lesser creature.

His rage calmed just a little, his plating flattening back down against his frame as he thought. This was all the more reason for him not to like "June," to see them as different and himself superior. Perhaps that was for the best.

A tool dropping ripped his focused gaze from the creator and landed on an unfamiliar mech, whose optics dimmed as the energon drained from his helm. He had clearly been sneaking around behind Predaking in hopes to escape his notice, afraid for his life. When the beast saw why, his chest became hot again.

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