His metallic finish was sparkling, his presentation ready, and the crowd on the other side of the curtain were seated. This is what he had been waiting for his entire life. After years of working different tools, different alloys, paints, molds, and clays, he finally found something that HE was satisfied with. Sure, others may have enjoyed his creations before, but they were all ignorant and blind to what else could be worked into art. He only saw the same boring thing after another. Nothing unique, nothing new. He recently had some inspiration from a battlefield he surveyed from the recent "Decepticon" attacks. It was just what he needed.
Everything he's done, he's kept a secret, he couldn't risk any leaks or rumors, that would spoil everything. Though he has created quite a buzz in the Cybertronian art world. Indeed, he was well known for his works. He heard that a few senate members would be out there as well. He smiled to himself as he heard his name announced. Without any nervousness or hesitation, he approached the podium, knowing that he WILL get the reaction he wants.
"For joining me tonight, I thank you. My newest artistic vision, I would like to share with all of you."
He doesn't bother mentioning the senators in the seats, as his publicist had said he should, this night was about HIM, not the greedy politicians.
"Respected and well known artists, you all are. Throughout Cybertron, and the surrounding systems, your works are displayed. All look to brighter times for inspiration, all look for silver lining in dark cloud. A waste of your lives, these works were. Worthless, every one of them. Say nothing of the world, do they. Only mindless, trivial, tripe that would sell well to the soft minded and stupid who turn a blind eye to war, evil, and darkness."
By now people had begun speaking and grumbling amongst themselves as he stood there, slinging insults at them, but not one of them interrupted him or left their seats. He had them enthralled. They wanted to know what he was building towards. He has such sights to show them.
"Pain, agony, the chill of sensation as blade breaks flesh or metal. A dark pleasure rarely felt, often avoided. Only to those seeking pleasures unimaginable, is it revealed to, such as I."
They were all silent now. Their eyes transfixed on the gold and black mech before them, looking through his eyes and into his soul. All they could see was madness. A crimson flash emanates from his dark red optics.
"A vermilion line, a drop of plasma fluid. As a surgeon, I wield my blades, my saws, and my hands, my latest work, to bring you... The Sweet Suffering!"
He hits the switch to his side, and the entire crowd gasps in unison as they are shown a horrific scene of organic creatures and Cybertronians, dead. Their lifeless bodies eviscerated, hollowed out with candles ornately placed inside the chest cavities. The removed insides draped around them like regal gowns and robes. All over their bodies: Blood, plasma, excrement, bile, gray matter, acids, lubricants, oil. Their faces were cast down, heads gaping open with their eyes missing from their sockets.
All is silent, then an ear piercing shriek is heard, followed by another, then more. A terrible sound to most, a symphony to him. People began leaving, rushing out, pushing others aside, a couple of the organic creatures actually driven to regurgitation. The senators who were in the audience leave as well, calling for Autobot enforcers to come in. Slog grins as he watches all this. Exactly as he expected it to happen. They don't understand his art, he doubts if any one ever will, but, an artists life is a lonely one. Just moments before making his own escape, he walks to the edge of the stage, and takes a bow.
"Happiness is made of irony, sarcasm, and cynicism. You don't know or care why you're happy, and you don't want to know. Because if you did know, then you would think of what makes you unhappy, then you would have been better off not thinking about it at all, so why bother?" - Me