Disclaimer: All rights to Transformers belong to Hasbro.

A/N: Well, let's start this right off the bat. This was some crazy idea that spawned itself in that huddled brain of mine – let's say I have an awkward imagination. Now I have the time to actually get it written down, however long this took (I didn't really pay attention).

I'm unsure of where this story is going to take me, but we'll ascend our ladder in time. First things first, if I do say so myself. And I can already assure you positively that you will enjoy yourself through the whole thing. That is, if you're a slight-or-heavy shipper of Blurr and Longarm/Shockwave.

This is not the first story I have ever posted here, let's get that through our heads. I have another account, but I preferred if I continued my Transformers writings here. If you are familiar with my work (you know who you are), welcome back! If you do happen to be new to anything of my own, I welcome you with open arms to all that I am going to write in the near future! We'll get all along just fine, won't we?

Now, not all Author's notes are going to be so… expansive. This is just the beginning A/N, so we understand everything we're about to read. And you've read the summary, I'm sure, so you get the basic picture.

If you're one of those people that take the time to read the Author's Notes, I just have to say a great thank-you to exploring what the contents of this Fanfiction may hold in store for you. Who knows, you may find something in here to your liking. And to be honest, I wasn't expecting the first thing for myself to write to be Transformers: Animated, more along the lines of Transformers: Prime, but those nitpicks are minor.

Now, I do not believe there is any more cause to the delay of this chapter. Oh yes, I forgot.

The rating.

It will remain T. This isn't one of those stories that will eventually become M. There will be mention of some slightly-graphic material (blood, gore, etc.) but nothing that teens cannot handle. If you cannot handle slightly-graphic, then this isn't your cup of tea. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Since this story is for teens, I highly advise anyone below thirteen not to read it – but since when did anyone listen to this? Curiosity always gets the better of us – so, if you do choose to go on, enjoy.

Now, here we go!

"Duty and Deceit"

I:

What Goes Around

Surprisingly, it was Cliffjumper's idea in the first place. He had initiated a few talks with the Head of Cybertron Intelligence himself, as it were. No one in the Headquarters really had known his plan in the beginning, but suspicions of its contents were aroused as the questionings progressed. Whatever his intentions had been, Cliffjumper had been consuming a lot of time from Longarm Prime. The nature of these talks had been rather abstract, and the subjects of it were discrete. Only the Head of Intel knew of the true definition behind all of the uncomfortable prodding that Cliffjumper had been advancing upon.

Longarm pestered not an Autobot's audio receptors of these chats, despite whatever they would desire of its information. After the meetings with the vermilion Cybertronian, the Prime swiftly entered back into his office through the clear, sliding-glass doorways and proceeded his prior task. But several times already had the Elite Guard notified that Longarm's expression after those talks was usually stressed or lacking much emotion, although the Prime's face-plates were typically stoic.

And throughout the events of those talks, Cliffjumper became a bit… different on his external display. He walked with his head high, chin pointed up slightly. Not arrogant, to say at the least, but certainly… proud. His digits twitched every so often and his gait was long and graceful, as if he were trying to relieve some stress from off of his weighty shoulders. Nonetheless, the Elite Guard did notice, especially when a meeting was summoned for the highest of Cybertron Intelligence to transfer information with Cybtertron Command, Cliffjumper greeted all of his superiors with a dazzling smile, a firm handshake, and a coherent tone.

Myriad suggestions came to as why Cliffjumper may be acting in such an awkward manner amongst the members of the Intelligence team, but there was no definite answer. No one bothered Cliffjumper about the suspicious behavior. Heads kept themselves tucked once they heard the familiar twang of the vermilion mech's pedes. Because that Cybertronian had such a… temper, no one bothered asking. Not like they ever wanted to.

Among the first to notice these unusual changes, Agent Blurr kept his servos locked tight as he paraded the hallways towards his destination. Several times other members of the Elite Guard pressed on the topic towards the loyal hyper-speed-sprinting chatterbox, but Blurr always stayed locked up about it. His primary concern hadn't rather been Cliffjumper, but more Longarm on his end of the toll booth. What had the vermilion Agent been promising their leader? He wouldn't dare admit the reason to his concerns, as he was constantly reminding even himself that he did not have romantic feelings towards his Superior Officer.

And, after the weeks of pressing, Blurr was sure soon to figure out, Longarm agreed to whatever Cliffjumper had been saying. Not surprising enough, the blue Agent did soon crack out what it was:

Cliffjumper had been looking forward to giving Longarm a Sparkmate.

The aftershock was what sent Blurr on end. Longarm… a Sparkmate? He didn't seem the nicety type; that much was clear. The Prime was emotionless and cold, typically for duty over his free-time, dedicating many hours to the cause of the Autobots. The heavier mech didn't appear to have much time to mingle about with a Sparkmate. However, that wasn't the only problem Blurr was having internal conflict with himself about…

Longarm was going to get a Sparkmate? One that wouldn't be him?

Now the Agent was nervous. At first, this disturbing chapter hadn't been part of the equation, but Blurr was aware of his terrified, unrequited love over the Prime. He was dashing, charming, pleasant, kind, understandable, powerful, and responsible – an overall great Sparkmate. Apart for that busy factor.

Except Blurr now knew quite damply that he wasn't going to be that selected, although it didn't really quite seem that Longarm loved anyone. Blurr had tried to get some time for himself and the Prime to talk by lingering over-hours in the office that Longarm worked or hindering in the lobby downstairs while the behemoth mech swapped data-pads with his Inferior Officers in order to intercept transmissions between Decepticons, but the Prime usually paid him no heed, much.

That was exaggerating, a bit.

Longarm responded to everything Blurr said, for he was quite adept at picking up on what the speedster was saying, but that comrade/comrade relationship never felt like it was tilting a bit higher, ever. Blurr wasn't aware of if that was the truth, or just simple paranoia – because the Prime seemed very fond of partnering with him through scouts or just simply having him around.

The subject itself was really quite the most bit… overwhelming.

And on that uneventful day on Cybertron, Blurr swiveled through the vital information on his data-pad as he crouched achingly beside Longarm Prime's desk, awaiting for his opportunity to report. Cliffjumper was out on an important occasion that day, and the Agent was forced to fill in for the vermilion Cybertronian's duties while he was gone. Tomorrow, however, he'd be back in and able to satisfy whatever he'd missed.

Right now the Prime was occupied with another client having come by traces of a transmission between Megatron and his second-in-command, Starscream. Or at least that was what he thought – evidence was heavily proving otherwise. The Elite Guard member seemed positive that his theory was one hundred-percent accurate, despite all means against it.

Blurr's primary focus was trying to memorize the contents of the data-pad, but his mind buzzed with the information he'd worried himself only about two weeks ago. How long would it be until the Prime would pick his Sparkmate and forever have someone he could look out for and trust?

Finding it achingly hard to focus, Blurr pressed the palm of his right servo against his head – painstakingly cold. The soft murmurs of Longarm and the other mech echoed against the Agent's head as he listened nonchalantly to their conversation. It seemed as though Longarm was taking the whole "transmission" idea under consideration, but he waved off the Elite Guard member nonetheless.

However, Blurr remained quiet as he wrapped his arms around his long pedes and stayed crouched over. In how many days would the loyal Sparkmate be chosen? Surely there would not be much time.

Despite whatever odds there appeared to be on Blurr's side that Longarm was not interested in many of the Cybertronians around here, he had doubts that he himself was on the consideration list. But there was a light, dull tugging at the back of his thoughts. Was that his name being called? Was he really the one?

"– Um, excuse me, Agent Blurr? May I see the data-pad now?"

Shaken from his thoughts, the speedster looked up and found Longarm Prime's cyan eyes meeting his own. Flushing across his face-plates for that lack of awareness, Blurr leaned forward and extended his arm to let the more experienced mech take away what the data-pad had to offer.

"Is there something wrong, Agent Blurr? You seem to be distant today."

Again, Blurr struggled to get back in with the real world as he turned to focus on the Superior Officer. "I'm-fine-Longarm-Prime-Sir-just-feeling-a-bit-lightheaded-as-of-late-due-to-some-emotional-stress-that-has-been-going-on-in-my-head-it'll-pass-soon."

"I see," Longarm snorted, downloading the files from the data-pad onto his terminal's mainframe. "I hope you feel better soon – you're not usually one that lets the worst of days really get to you."

Blurr snorted. "Eh." Rubbing idly at the back of his neck, the Agent continued, "It's-really-no-big-deal-I-don't-really-feel-bad-about-much-of-anything-so-I'm-guessing-it'll-move-on-soon-you-don't-have-to-worry-about-it-because-it-won't-interfere-with-my-work-I-can-assure-you."

The Head of Cybertron Intel dipped his head in acknowledgement. "If you don't mind me asking," he conceded, unplugging the data-pad from the terminal, "what's on your mind? Is there any way I could help at all?"

Although pleased with the suggestion, Blurr kept his head ducked and muttered, "Hmm. I-don't-think-there's-anything-you-could-do-but-I-appreciate-the-fact-that-you-tried."

Longarm snorted. "That doesn't answer my question, Agent Blurr; what's on your mind? I think I could do something to alleviate your problems. Even if it doesn't work – who says we didn't make a few attempts at it? Even if it isn't that coherent what is currently going on in your processor."

Blurr sighed. "T-t-to-be-honest-I-was-thinking-about-your-new-plan-to-get-a-Sparkmate-with-what-Cliffjumper-was-talking-to-you-about."

Now, the Prime's interest was piqued. "How do you know about that?" he asked calmly, his eyes still focused on the data-pad as it now rested in his massive hand. "I'm not angry about it; just a bit curious."

"S-s-s-s-stuff-goes-around-Sir-Longarm-Prime-Sir," Blurr responded in a rushed, nervous voice.

The expression that crossed Longarm's face was quizzical, but he must've decided not to press his questionings any further on that subject. Instead, as a replacement, he responded roughly as he leaned back in his chair, "So… you're suddenly worried about a decision that I have to make? I wouldn't have much concerns regarding that scenario. I'm not even sure I am going to agree, although I did say I would."

It was that subject that interested the blue Agent. "Hmm. Well-does-that-mean-you-won't-do-it?"

"I will have to, soon," Longarm Prime snorted as he extended his arm to give Blurr back the data-pad that he received. "Or else Cliffjumper will come back at me and try again. Any other questions before you return to your duties?"

Blurr reached back again and rubbed the back of his neck cables. "I-was-wondering-when-you-were-going-to-pick-like-what-day-would-that-be?"

Opening the cabinets at his desk and running his digits through the files, Longarm retorted, "Actually, me and Cliffjumper had planned on the day of the event to be tomorrow. The decision that I will have to make is certainly… stressful, to say at the least, for such a short span of time."

"Why-do-you-even-need-a-Sparkmate-Sir-if-you-don't-mind-me-asking?" Blurr willed himself to say as he retrieved the data-pad and ran it through his digits. "It-doesn't-seem-to-me-like-you-have-much-time-for-that."

Longarm shut one of his drawers and set the files upon the desk, eyes flitting briefly back upon Blurr as he continued, "He said it will help relieve some kind of stress that is building up from this war. And to be honest with you, I don't think it will, but Cliffjumper is becoming quite the least bit… intolerable. The least I could do to stop him from becoming even further prideful was to oblige to it. Nowadays, the idea doesn't seem like that big of a deal. I wouldn't worry about it."

Blurr acknowledged that with a dip of his head. "Yes-Sir-Longarm-Prime-Sir." After a salute, the Agent turned and started making his way back down the corridors of the Cybertronian structure, but his head throbbed in terror.

This event was supposed to take place…

Tomorrow?

Word had gotten around about the matter later on that day. The rest of the fleet still stationed there on Cybertron before they were shipped had gotten hyped about the situation, but it eventually died down before it ran through their processors too quickly. Some members of the Elite Guard, such as Warpath and Jetfire, tried guessing who the Sparkmate would be. Other less-important Cybertronians in their caste system went around and tried to make themselves on the list.

Now every Autobot here still stationed on the Metroplex were aware that tomorrow was going to be a big matter for the Autobots. Every member of Cybertron Intelligence showed great signs of respect towards their Superior Officer, Longarm Prime, but remained impassive when he redirected his orders to Ultra Magnus. Vocalizers had it that the Magnus didn't even know of what was stirring under his cold-eyed, penetrating stare.

Not unpredictably, Cliffjumper seemed pleased about the scenario as well as he took matters into his own servos about much questioning. Whatever the Cybertron Intel Agent had planned for his leader wasn't much of a secret anymore, so he had no issues discussing its existence. However, he only seemed to want to expand upon the hype train, in fact.

The day had only further progressed into the shady nighttime over the Metroplex as the highway roads around the massive Cybertronian base grew alight with activity. All the members of the High Autobot Council were inside and having a current session about an energy surge ping that had sounded from a neighboring solar system regarding sinister Decepticon activity, leaving the ones on guard outside and for Cybertron's extreme weather hazards to consume and corrode.

"Agent Blurr, what do you think about the decision that Longarm Prime will be making soon?"

The Agent was ripped from his thoughts as he refocused his optics and found Jazz eyeing him from the side of the platforms they were scouting.

A torrent of wind howled through Cybertron as the mechs perched on their stations. Jazz's single blue visor was pointed at Blurr, his white arms folded, digits fidgeting around themselves as he leaned against a support beam.

It was Blurr that was now surprised that Jazz was even bothering bringing up this subject in itself. The topic had been thoroughly discussed several times over during its brief but absolute life-expectancy, just to now again be rebooted for another discussion on the barren, windswept courtyard outside the Metroplex.

"Um," restated Blurr as he fumbled to get a grip on the bold question, "I-don't-really-know-what-you-mean-by-think-Agent-Jazz-but-if-you're-referring-to-my-thoughts-on-the-idea-in-general-then-I-believe-this-isn't-going-to-benefit-our-Superior-Officer-in-any-way."

Jazz considered the response momentarily before a low chuckle squeezed out through his engines despite any suppression against it. "You share my same ideas – but Cliffjumper thinks this will help with any sort of decisions Longarm Prime will be facing, so I'll go ahead and give him a few kudos for wanting to help at all. Maybe we can give him a shot at this; if it ends up helping that Prime, then he's just done us a big favor. You dig?"

"Um-yeah-sure-I-guess." Blurr folded his cyan arms together and looked at the whirling pit of buildings and roadways outside the Metroplex, buzzing with hidden activity. "Now-that-you're-thinking-about-the-topic-who-do-you-suspect-it-is?"

Silence. "Heh, I don't know. There's plenty of ideas that I've heard all day that could be the real answer or not – who in Primus' name knows? Longarm has always been a bit… standoffish and locked up. I can't imagine whoever it's going to be is going to be expecting the choice, for sure. Hey – that gives me an idea: what if the choice is Cliffjumper? He did come up with it, after all…"

Terror gnawed and gnashed briefly at Blurr's gears. It all made sense now! The puzzle had redone itself without even a second glance. Cliffjumper was probably going to be the choice. Maybe him and Longarm had planned this –

Hold on a moment.

Blurr forced his processor to stop working things out so quickly. Longarm had seemed so distraught about the matter earlier, as if it was really quite the encumbrance he hadn't been hoping for. Either that, or one Cybertronian was going to end up as an actor while he was soon to be stationed on Earth.

Jazz's second statement made the skittish, hyper-speed-talking Agent want to quickly redo and rethink his opinion. "You've seen the way that Cliffjumper has been walking around, yeah? Maybe he knows this is his chance, maybe he has all along. Mayhap he cannot just contain his enthusiasm regarding this whole situation. Wow – I'm such a genius."

Blurr squirmed privately where he was posted, although he lacked movement because of his fierce dedication to obeying his orders. "H-have-you-conversed-with-Jetfire-recently-he-thinks-it-could-be-well-you-know-someone-higher-than-his-own-ranking-of-Prime-like…"

"Ultra Magnus?" Jazz conceded, an affronted expression swiftly arriving on his faceplates. "I never thought of that before… don't you think our Magnus would be a bit reluctant to taking on Longarm as a Sparkmate?"

The Agent shrugged absent-mindedly. "I-was-just-requoting-Jetfire-you-know," Blurr finished, rubbing his servos together as another blast of cold chilled his frame. "I-don't-think-Longarm-Prime-Sir-would-do-that-but-maybe-he-will-you-never-be-sure-in-times-like-this."

"You're right about that," Jazz agreed placidly as he leaned further back against the support beam he was still using to hold himself upright. The ninja-bot swiped off his digits as he folded them together. "And as I said before – Longarm is very… distant. Never quite shares anything he knows with anyone else unless it's important. His decision could be in plain sight where things are hidden best, or could be just a random drawing from inside an empty data-pad after every Cybertronian here writes their destinations down on a piece of recording."

Grunting after a stab of cold reached up into his gears, Blurr coughed, "We-should-really-not-even-take-the-time-to-guess-it-could-be-anyone-Jazz."

The comment that suggested diminishing the flame of the conversation seemed to downright Jazz, but the ninja-bot shrugged it off instead and snorted through his exhaust fumes, "Fine. But I still really think it could be Cliffjumper."

After that, the Agent said no more, but Blurr wanted to rub idly at the back of his head again, suggesting his nervousness.

Cliffjumper? Oh Primus, why…?

Quite later regarding the events of standing frigidly outside the Metroplex, most of the Autobots had gone to their barracks or berthrooms for stasis lock and recharge. Some were forced to stay up a bit longer in case of a Decepticon invasion, but chances were beyond zero. Decepticon activity seemed seldom as of late.

During the High Autobot Council's meeting, they discussed the events of the pinging outside the solar system that one of their firewalls had picked up on while an Autobot was rechecking a malfunctioning system outside of the Metroplex base. The suggestion of Decepticon presence there seemed likely, or it could be a stranded Autobot in need of rescue. Still, Longarm Prime and Ultra Magnus confirmed there would not be any members of the Elite Guard there for a while yet.

In case of Decepticon incursion, of course. Starscream or Megatron could have been staging this as a disguise of a downed Autobot shuttle while planning an offensive maneuver. Or it very may have been Swindle's personal cruiser scouting the outer ridges of the neighboring solar systems in searches of a marketing opportunity, or a chance for some credits that could very soon be in his servos.

Whatever it was, however, Longarm had made it clear – no Elite Guard members were investigating the dire situation there. Period.

As the rest of the Intelligence team settled up for recharge, Blurr passed between the two columns leading to the other hallway of berthrooms before he passed by Jetfire and Warpath deep in a conversation again. The barracks here were barely insulated, so chances were if the Cybertronian walking about outside was close enough, he could hear you.

Blurr prodded his audio receptors with a digit as he focused more clearly on the topic. He found himself guilty for listening at all – it wasn't his thing – but he wasn't surprised to find it on their suggestions again. They seemed to be narrowed down to a few less choices than before, but they talked in excited voices as they spoke, clearly close to one another and whispering.

"So who do you think would be Longarm's type?" asked Warpath as he made a noise suggesting movement on his berth.

Jetfire let out a low chuckle, rubbing his servos together. "Is it not more clear?" he buzzed excitedly, "Only the most loyal one here – the one that is willing to obey his every command."

Cliffjumper. Blurr sighed and was about to continue on his way before an even more hushed vocalizer pressed on:

"An energetic type, a very skittish, energetic type? One that might just be so quick that the events of this might all fly right over his own head?"

Warpath paused for a second. "You're not suggesting…?"

"That Longarm will go right for the quickest thing that in this case is too slow to pick up on the obvious? Oh, yeah. You've seen the way Longarm Prime acts and looks at this one..."

It was this comment that must have made Warpath smile behind that massive red plating over his mouth. "You want to bet?" he asked mischievously, rubbing his servos together.

"Slag yeah I do."

Blurr stepped away from the door, rubbing at the back of his neck. What had all that meant? Who here in the entire face of Cybertron was too slow to see Longarm Prime's choice? Shaking his head, the Agent continued down the hallway.

What were those crazy Autobots thinking of?

After all had been set and stone, Blurr had rushed off to his berthroom as the rest of the agency here combed themselves up for a good recharge. All the events of the day had been overwhelming, to say for the most part. The good thing was, however, that it wouldn't matter tomorrow. Things would go back to the way it always had been, and mayhap hype would die down a bit as the decision's impact would hopefully flush away, as well.

Things also increased their severity seeing as to how Cliffjumper would be returning to the Metroplex after his urgent call from Command. Hopefully, hopefully… whatever Jazz had said was completely naïve and made no sense regarding the situation. But things matched up quite well – why else would Cliffjumper had been so prideful these last few days? Longarm Prime had been right, earlier: the vermilion Cybertronian was intolerable as of late. Everything was starting to make sense now – the puzzle was sorting itself.

Blurr sighed as he set himself up for recharge, letting the soft hum of the berthroom's internal mainframe soothe him to off-lining his optics. Maybe the choice would not be Cliffjumper – but however: it remained a popular opinion it seemed. Agent Blurr found his gears stirring uncomfortably at the thought, but he shrugged it off modestly. Who cared who it was tomorrow? Maybe he'd get over his romantic thoughts for the Prime, and everything could all play itself out despite what everyone else thought. But that didn't shake off the obvious facts that...

It was going to be a big day tomorrow.