Bad Idea

++ Dead End <CON> ++
One of the most infamous points on the planet, the Dead End of Polyhex has  
become synonymous with desperation and criminality. A slum barrio that      
exists in stark contrast to the wealth and prestige of Darkmount on the     
other side of Polyhex, the Dead End is composed of ramshackle dwellings     
made of storage containers and refuse pulled from nearby scrapyards and     
welded into barely functional mounds. Rusty oranges, corroded blue-green    
coppers, dull flat grays and splotches of worn out and peeling paint        
compose the landscape as far as the eye can see.                            
The Empties - a mixture of criminals, homeless and the insane - congregate  
this area. Shuffling wrecks meander to and fro, eking a miserable and      
desperate living scavenging from the junkyards near the smelting pools      
nearby, while others turn to illegal activities to try to earn enough to    
keep fuelled.                                                               
++                ++
As one moves further east through the Dead End, there's a subtle change in the atmosphere.  To the north are the healthiest sectors where the scrapyards bleed resources into the shanties like an IV drip.  To the west are the loudest sectors, where Rodion and the rest of Polyhex prop up the slums with police patrols and a trickling diffusion of wealth.  Paradoxically, crime is busiest there as well but to the east, where the only escape from the sector is the long road to the Tagan Heights, is where it's most entrenched.  Beyond all but the most determined reach of law or outside influence, the rotten core of the Dead End is almost a polity to itself.  Here healthy criminals roam freely among decaying empties and any and every crime is available for the right price.
Walking slowly down the middle of the street, Overclock casts her optics around her and cycles the stench of spoiled oil and rust through her vents.  She's acquired a tattered but serviceable cloak on her way in and is no longer advertising either her health nor her affiliation.  An EM ping echoes outwards from her frame as she listens for the response of a hive; the drones are closer now but still out of reach.
Looking down the street, the Insecticon spots what she's been searching for: a small and deceptively plain shack that's guarded by a large pair of enforcers.  It's too small to be of value on its own of course but the Dead End's soft ground makes underground bases a popular and effective hiding place for those with something worth hiding.
Approaching the pair, Overclock pulls back her hood enough to show her face and waves a placating claw as their optics snap to her.  "Easy... I heard your boss had a nice hive... I'd like to buy it from him."
The guards look between one another, noticing the rather obvious antennas poking out of the Insecticon's helmet.  "I'm not sure where you heard that, but it's not for sale," the left one grumbles in a gravely tone.
"Everything's for sale for the right price, second rule of the Dead End," Overclock disagrees smoothly.  She pulls aside her cloak just enough to show off the Decepticon mark on her chest-head.  "I've got orders straight from Megatron to gather Insecticons for the mines; I can pay half-again whatever your boss paid for them."
The larger guard hums deeply as he peers at the brand, then nods stiffly and tilts his head sharply towards the shack's interior.  "Come on in, I'll show you to him."  Stepping through the open doorway, he crosses the tiny room in three strides and lifts up a false floor panel to expose a ladder, waving Overclock after him.  "Well don't just stand there, hurry up."
The towering Insecticon has to duck to get into the tiny structure and frowns beneath her facemask as she notices that the hatch is only slightly wider than her hips.  Thinking for a moment, the broad-shouldered femme transforms into her bestial altmode and backs towards the hole.  "For such a big guy, your architect never had size in mind, did he?"
"The boss is a smaller number," the guard answers mirthfully as he descends the ladder.  "And us normal frames fit just fine."
Overclock grumbles something over wavespeech as she backs down and tries carefully to descend the vertical ladder with paws.  The Insecticon's cloak almost immediately bunches up and tangles itself around her face and no sooner does her torso fully enter the hole than her back scrapes against the wall with a metallic screech.  "Ugph Queens of the--Wah!"  Clumpsily grinding and stepping her way down, the femme's paws slip and what had almost been a controlled descent turns into a rough fall as she skids and knocks down the ladder before landing in a pile at the bottom.
"Oof!"
"Watch it you crazy glitch!" the guard shouts as he scampers down the last few rungs and jumps away to avoid being pinned under the large femme's aft.  "You work for Megatron?  He'll let anyone be a Decepticon, won't he?"
"Hey, it's not my fault your ladder was too small!"  Overclock defends indignantly as she rootforms again and tugs at her cloak to pull it back down.  The femme stands up as she rights her outfit and brushes herself off.  She doesn't have much dignity to salvage, but she tries.
"Gearbox, what in the boiling slag-pit did you bring me?"  An authoritative voice critiques from across the room.  Seated on a copper and iron throne, a sleek mech with a pointed yellow and black frame stares critically at the pair with yellow optics.  A single pair of wheels at his back suggests a cycleformer but his position suggests something far more important.  Flanked by two femmes, his throne places him at the apex of the ornate chamber that makes up the shack's basement.  The wall behind him is decorated with sculpted gold finery and a chalice of enerwine rests in easy reach of his hand.  Before him, a large pit has been dug out of the floor over a narrow grate walkway and inside it are the snapping, hungry jaws of dozens of Insecticon drones.
Gearbox starts as he's addressed and turns to bow deterrently.  "She said she wanted to buy your hive, Luster."
"/She/?  *That's* a femme?"  The mech baulks with a laugh.  The femmes at his side heft a pair of cannons half their height and aim them towards Overclock with noticeable effort.  It's another display of wealth as much as a threat.
Overclock bristles at the laugh as she turns to the boss-apparent and sets a hand on her hip, exposing in the process her Decepticon brand again.  "Yeah, what of it?"  She replies smartly.  "I was hoping to do business here but if you don't want Megatron's money I can buy direct from the hive hunters."
"Sorry clanky, my hive's not for sale.  Go back the way you came," the seated mech dismisses with a flippant wave of his hand.
"Your guard told me that too.  I told him everything's for sale for the right price and I've got enough backing to pay it," Overclock disagrees, not moving an inch.  "How's 2.3 grand sound?"
"Hmm... that's a good line, I might need to use that," the mech muses idly, not seeming to give Overclock's offer much attention.  "For two of them?  I'm not paying less than seventy for the entire hive."
"Forty," Overclock shoots back.
"Seventy," Luster insists as he sips from his chalice.  "If Megatron wants my hive I expect him to pay for it."
Overclock looks down at the pit-bound drones and reaches out to them over wavespeech.  As the "domesticated" hive responds, her engine growls.  "That hive's not worth a speck over fifty the way you've been caring for it.  I'm surprised it can still move."
"Seventy is my lowest offer," Luster rebukes.  His optics roam the femme as he taps his chin thoughtfully.  "But I could go down to fifty with you in the deal too."
The most immediate response to the mech's second bid is a livid roar from Overclock's engine and the Insecticon glares molten steel at Luster.  "I'm not for sale."
Startled, Luster's guards step closer to his chair and keep their guns trained on the angry Decepticon.  Unruffled, the mech waves them off.  "Everything's for sale for the right price," he replies with a smug calm as he gives the femme's own words back to her.  "If Megatron wants my hive he'll pay seventy thousand shanix or he'll pay fifty thousand shanix and I'll get you to keep.  You seem..." he pauses to sip again and smiles coolly.  "Entertaining."
Overclock snorts in derision as a plan hatches in the back cores of her processor.  With the impulsive femme, that's rarely a good thing.  She steps forward and the walkway over the pit creaks and groans as it bears her weight. "You like entertainment, huh?  Well how about I entertain you and then we talk price?"  Reaching around her neck, the Insecticon pulls off her cloak and drops it on the grate, exposing the rest of her chimeric frame.
Down below, the drones pool under Overclock's feet, coursing over one another in a shifting mass as they try to climb up and reach her, their mandibles snapping.
Luster's optic ridge rises in interest and he grins as he gets a full view of the unique frame before him.  Is it ugly?  Sure, but it's also rare, and on a planet choked with spark-siblings and generics, it's always sweeter to have something when you're the only one who does.  "I'm listening... what kind of entertainment did you have in mind?"
"Just a little demonstration," Overclock answers confidently as she takes a half-step off the walkway and drops into the pit.  The Insecticons scatter just enough to avoid being crushed and the metal floor dents where she lands.  Then the hive swarms over her and the femme looks up calmly at Luster as the whole of her form disappears under a shifting mass of bugs.
Luster laughs in utter disbelief as Overclock willingly drops into the hive pit.  "Hey, you know they'll eat you, right?  How are you supposed to pay me if they eat you?"
Scurrying up Overclock's legs the moment she touches the ground, the feral hive piles onto her.  With no self-aware steering the drones they're left with the most basic of instincts and Luster has left them very, very hungry.  Mandibles open and saws and drills are exposed towards the armor of Overclock's body as the hive tries to cut its way in to the more succulent mechanisms within.
As she's rapidly covered by foreign Insecticons, there is a brief moment when Overclock considers that she might have made a bad decision.  Controlling a hive was supposed to be intuitive, or at least Scorn hadn't bothered to instruct her on it, and the Vehicons had listened well enough... right?  The pointed legs itch as they scratch all over her panels and it's an uncomfortable but bearable sensation as the hatchling tries to focus and speak clearly to them in wavespeech.  She's a queen, they're a hive, she's there to help and get them out.
A foreboding buzz of spinning blades sends a chill through Overclock's spark as the itching is replaced by the full-bodied pain of having her armor ground away.  In that moment she panics and forgets herself entirely as she screams in fright while trying to knock the drones off of her.  It was a good plan... until now.
Up above, Luster continues to laugh.  It's always fascinated him to watch the hive feed.  It's one of the reasons he put them in the center of his chamber and the lead-up to this unexpected meal just makes it that much more fun.  "You're right, this is entertaining!  Try not to die too quickly now."
Knocking one drone away by force would be an easy task and maybe even six could be managed, but the starving hive is clambering over itself for even a square inch of exposed panels to bite into.  For every one Overclock knocks away, two more find an opening.  As the Insecticons continue to borrow, the high whine of their spinning blades drops to a macabre grind as saw teeth and prying limbs chip and pull the Decepticon's protective outer shell apart.
Blinded by a drone trying to eat through her faceplate, Overclock flails wildly and swats at the Insecticons in a failed attempt to get free.  She rams herself heavily into one wall then another, and gouts of fire splash against her shoulders as she tries to burn them off with her tail.  The pain is intense and mind-numbing but rising with it is anger and disbelief - the Insecticon in her can't fathom this reality.  She's a queen, or supposed to be, and drones always obey self-awares - it's part of their most basic code.  Drones are the limbs of the hive, they move and do, not think.  Yet here was a hive without a self-aware of any kind, eating her alive.
Luster takes a long, satisfied drink from his glass as he listens to the music of rending and buckling metal below.  One drone here and one drone there is smashed by Overclock's struggling but not enough to stop the swarm.  Panels are opened, joints are jammed stuck, and Insecticon mouths begin to dip inside to snip apart wires and bite off bits of circuit board.  The warm glow from her spark casing, almost an Insecticon spark, draws hungry optics and most of the drones that can nibble towards it.
Overclock's cries become strangled and distorted as her throat and vocoder are invaded and the would-be queen collapses to the ground.  She's rapidly losing the ability to move and even to feel in her extremities as sensor lines are cut and sensors themselves are eaten.  The blinding pain begins to dim as her speech fails entirely and the hatchling's world shrinks.  There's a dim awareness that the spectre of Mortilus is close at her back, waiting for a vital line to be cut or her spark to be compromised.
A natural but damaging defense mechanism kicks in as her engine goes into overdrive to keep her running.  The femme's systems overheat and her joints begin to glow red.  The smell of hot oxides and Insecticon shrieks fill the room as the swarm draws back from their meal and eyes it cautiously, momentarily unsure what to do.  Using the moment it buys her and with a blind exertion of effort, Overclock pushes herself off the ground and leaps backwards out of the pit.  Her joints creak and groan tortuously at the abuse and she lands in a damaged heap by the ladder.  Struts are visible through her malformed panels and the acrid smoke of burning insulation wafts from gaps in her frame.  Oblivious to her surroundings, the failed queen catches her breath and prays that she can self-repair anything too serious.
"Aww, that was just getting good.  Is that all the entertainment you were going to show me?" Luster laments, heedless to the femme's injuries.  She can bleed out for all he cares, his hive can clean it up.
Overclock continues to vent loudly until eventually the room stops spinning in her optics.  With a creak and a grunt of pain, she pushes herself up to a sitting position and looks back at the mech - or rather towards him.  Beneath her cracked visor, her optics are glassy and unfocused.  The hatchling's mind is elsewhere, still too stunned to think.
"I... need to... go..." she chokes out in a broken voice corrupted by static.  Pushing herself backwards into the ladder, she reaches overhead to grab a rung and tries to pull herself back to the surface.
"Well, that's just too bad," Luster sighs dramatically as he watches the femme's weak attempts to move with continuing amusement.  "That was entertaining, but my price of 70,000 still stands.  You'll come back with that, won't you?"
"Yes..." Overclock manages weakly.  As she reaches the start of the tunnel to the first floor, her broad shoulders bump the ceiling and the shift in momentum looses the Insectibeast's grip, causing her to drop back to the ground.
Disrupted but beyond any feelings of new pain, she groans brokenly and rolls over as her damaged panels creak.  Slowly, her frame transforms from biped to quadruped and in the process, redefines the meaning of 'discomfort'.  Overclock gasps silently as almost every joint in her body finds a way to rebel against the reshaping.  Okay, maybe she's not beyond pain.
Luster continues to watch from his throne and chuckles.  "You know if you can't get out yourself I might be tempted to keep you," he taunts.  He's enjoying the fun this unexpected guest brings him.
Overclock may as well be deaf.  Her desire to get out is a tunnel vision that comes from too little energon and too many injuries.  It's doubtful if she's even processing anything higher than the first five rungs.  Almost in her correct beastmode now, she puts one paw on the ladder, then another, and gingerly lifts her weight from the floor.  One step with one leg at a time carries her away from the ground but even at this slow pace, she slips.  The femme freezes as the sudden jolt sends a shock of immobilizing pain up her circuits, then tries to resume her climb twice as carefully and even more slowly.
Eventually, her back scrapes in familiar fashion against the wall of the tunnel and Overclock braces against it for support.  Step, step, scrape, step, step, scrape... it's slow, agonizing going, but with the added assurance of a wall to check her balance, she makes her way out of sight.
Red optics crest the hatch to see the empty but infinitely welcoming sight of the ground floor and the rest of Overclock's frame eventually follows.  She pants in exhaustion as she trudges across the room and out the front door, then wanders aimlessly down the street, not sparing either guard the slightest glance.  It's several blocks before the Insecticon's energon reserves give out and she collapses in an alleyway between shanties to recharge.  All the way from the hive, up the ladder and down the street, a splotchy trail of glowing pink fuel marks her passing.
No, that was not a good plan at all.