(Untitled)
WHO: Nemesis Prime and Malcolm
WHAT: Random bumping into each other.
WHERE: One of the lower zones.
WHEN: Sometime shortly after Malcolm is human again.
WARNINGS: Uhhhhh we dunno yet |D Probably at least minor violence. Add more if we need to. :3
( Malcolm needs to stop wandering around aimlessly. )
WHAT: Random bumping into each other.
WHERE: One of the lower zones.
WHEN: Sometime shortly after Malcolm is human again.
WARNINGS: Uhhhhh we dunno yet |D Probably at least minor violence. Add more if we need to. :3
( Malcolm needs to stop wandering around aimlessly. )
-the movement in that shadow, however, is not imagination. It is an actual Cybertronian...rather, what once was a Transformer, and now what has only empty optics as it looks up and towards the noise, what is visible of its mouth twisting in an ugly snarl.
Shrieking, it suddenly lunges at Megatron, moving with surprising speed for something so...
...well, damaged, with bolts falling from it even as it makes to strike.
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He vaguely recognizes the thing, remembers fighting them before as he staggers before finding his footing and he recalls they weren't the most difficult things to be rid of, just annoyances. Ones that he thought were gone.
His fusion cannon hums to life, energy crackling and this will be far more satisfying than ripping it apart just because he can use it again; he fires at the head of the... thing attempting to remove his other arm.
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Some seconds later, from off to the side - a slow series of claps.
"That was neatly done."
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His optics narrow slightly, Malcolm knows him from the network and the grandiose speech he had given, though he couldn't recall much of it now. Magnum kneeling at the mech's side had caught his attention far more than any words would have. Still he's better than any of his alternates and in turn is not particularly concerned.
"Of course it was."
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He makes a sound of amusement, raising his chin as he sizes Malcolm up - then holds out his hand. The before-seen black whisp seems to reform within it, then absorb back in to his chassis. "And humble. What a mech you are," he drawls, lowering his arm. "Though you seem familiar."
Perhaps from the network. He has been so lax in attending it lately, more concerned with his own plans, his own work, to care about others'...
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At least he knows it exists, unlike his experience with Magnus' swords, even if he isn't sure what it does
"We've spoken before," He tilts his head as he eyes Nemesis, optics narrowed. "I'm the rightful leader of the Decepticons."
That aggravates him; no one should forget who he is, especially not when they've had an entire conversation.
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The derision in Nemesis's voice is tempered only by honest bafflement. While he didn't hesitate to take advantage of this split, it is still...disappointing, to know that in so many different worlds, things are the same.
Are there no leaders of strength? No mechs capable of uniting Cybertron?
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"I was built to lead, to crush the Autobots beneath my pedes and reclaim Cybertron for the Decepticons," he's said this before, to countless mechs, millions of times and it's clearly well-practiced but he believes it just as much now as he ever did, perhaps more now that he's decided he has the right to the entire universe as well.
He's not interested in uniting, the time for that is long passed; Optimus Prime's goals and his are too different now. He's never believed in the words or promises of his sworn enemy and he's not about to start now.
"I will restore them to glory."
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To be built different - unless one meant to foster war, such is foolish. But then, perhaps such is - was the case.
Nemesis Prime waves a hand dismissively, scorn clear in his voice. "You know nothing of glory, only the false victory of fighting among your own kind. Move along, little 'Decepticon', and play your games of conflict and strife. You lead your Cybertron to its doom, and I am comforted only in that this one will not end up the same."
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He didn't care what Nemesis believed. He was built to lead the Decepticons to victory and that's all Malcolm needed to know to keep pushing forward.
"Little?" he snarls and takes a step forward. "Once I have conquered the Autobots, I will rebuild Cybertron and claim the universe for my own. I'm not 'playing,' whatever you think."
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He notes the weapon charging. And in answer, raises an arm, holding it out to the side as the cannon array upon it rotates and spreads. Four 'feathers' hum as well, a charge within them building ominously.
"I would take more care in my words, were I you."
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"I answer to no one, least of all you," he raises his chin defiantly. "But when I am done, you will answer to me."
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True irritation is within his vocalizer now, the humor fading fast. To take on a shambling chassis is one thing.
To challenge the Prime is another.
"Let us see just what you can do."
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He will challenge whomever he pleases and it seems to be Nemesis' lucky day. He says nothing only growls as he brings his cannon to full power, aiming and firing at Nemesis.
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