Day 41: Breakfast

[oftemptation]

Endrance turned his head to look at the intercom, giving it a look that would wither an entire rose garden in an instant. He would never get used to ending up in his room again from somewhere else in the Institute

Comments

[oil_connoisseur]

[Luxord! ♥]

To fuel or not to refuel.

Staring down and absentmindedly drumming his fingers, Megatron couldn’t help but eye the glistening contents of his plate. He could assume his surroundings genuinely were simulated, and choose not to eat, but with the technology in consideration there was a very real chance that he could now be residing in a human body. If he did not refuel, and he was now organic, he would have no energy reserves to function on. He would be useless, and could easily be eliminated.

Well, he would somehow manage to be less of a threat than in his present state, which was decidedly minimal at best. He had an irritating realisation that Starscream, even as little more than a head, would most likely be an equal match. Organics, especially humans, seemed to be lacking in the department of even the most basic of defensive mechanisms.

…the Earth theory of ‘natural selection’ certainly had glaring faults.

Unfortunately, it did seem to be true that he would rue his existence-long unnecessary dependency on his right side - with every movement, sharp sparks of pain slid down his arm, quickly settling to a dull ache. Self inflicted injuries due to idiocy aside, it wasn’t hard to break off a segment with his left hand, and spear it with his eating utensil. It tasted oddly reminiscent of unrefined energon, and indeed was rather ‘sweet’. It was consumable, but still overpowering enough for Megatron to curl his lips in distaste.

- wait, had the human vocalised?

“No?” Megatron repeated, with a slight drawl. There was a possibility that the human/data simulation/ extraneous-variable-of-which-he-was-unsure could be of some use. If he was optimistic, conversing with ‘it’ couldn’t be worse than Sumdac.

…optimisticly.

[clockmongler]

"No." And again for good measure. Luxord did not even bother to look at the other this time. He'd done this pathetic exposition dance to the new members of the institute countless times by now and, if the man wanted information out of him, he would be surely disappointed. That was what the bulletin board was for. "To anything you are about to ask, the answer is no. Even to a question where the answer would logically be otherwise, the answer is still no."

If there were one thing Luxord never enjoyed, it was being helpful to another person without anything to gain from it. And, considering how this man was obviously new within these walls, it was highly doubtful he'd anything of use. He regretted his cynicism not.

[oil_connoisseur]

“Oh, be still my wounded spa- heart,” Megatron said dryly, only just catching himself with a smirk, “Whatever shall I do without such a beacon of light and hope to the questions of the universe?”

If this was a simulation, the unknown variables within the human reply code were fascinating. This fact unfortunately made it even more logical that he was dealing with an actual human. (Whose hygiene habits were apparently much to be desired from the way he carefully examining the tips of his fingers.)

Pity. A simulation would have been far more pleasant company. Thankfully, with the right persuasion and leverage, humans could be bought like any Cybertronian - unfortunately, he was lacking anything that could remotely be considered ‘leverage’. The best he currently had on offer was a cooling fuel source, of which the human had his own to consume.

…that said, Megatron had been in worse situations with less.

After catching another fragment of the infernal pancake, wiping off the tree-sap against the side of his plate and placing it in his mouth, Megatron couldn’t help but scoff, “Your apparent omnipotence is astounding. However to you cope with such world-encompassing knowledge?”

[clockmongler]

It was not his fault that he could not fathom just whose blood was dried under the tips of his nails. There were four people from which it could have been, including himself, and the simple fact that he would have to sit through breakfast without having the ability to wash it away was going to annoy him for a good while.

At least until the man spoke with an obvious dose of sarcasm. He would admit, it made him smirk.

"I do believe those are questions and I should rightly answer the both of them with 'no', but it seems I cannot follow my own set of rules." He pulled a die from his sleeve, rolling it back and forth across his knuckles as he spoke with the same level of seriousness as the other. "For the first one, I suggest you weep at the loss of the obvious brilliance I am unwilling to share. Secondly," he tossed the die into the air before swiftly catching it, "it helps that such vast knowledge is trapped inside such a gorgeous body. Being stunningly attractive and charming makes these games much more bearable."

[oil_connoisseur]

…and yet it was still highly distasteful. Megatron had low tolerance for human hygiene rituals at the best of times, and now he was at the receiving end of a front row view. He supposed he should be grateful that it was just mere observational work, and not one the more… private interludes.

“My sincerest apologies,” Megatron said idly, and with a flat tone of one well aware that they were bordering on a cliché: “I’ve never been one to play by the rules.”

It certainly was an impressive feat, though, as he’d found himself in the company a so-called sentient with a more inflated, egotistic view of himself than even Starscream. Apparently his ‘optimism’ had paid off - the human certainly was more entertaining than Sumdac.

But the other’s usefulness in comparison to a certain professor was another matter entirely.

“…of course. I don’t know how you would have coped with such a trial otherwise - you must have a great strength of resolve,” Megatron grunted, as he went to work scraping another large blob of tree-sap off his food. He did halt his proceedings when he caught a flash of moment out of the corner of his eye, and, armed with a maple syrup-free slice of pancake, found himself settling back in amusement to see what trick the human might do next.

[clockmongler]

Perhaps Fortuna was not as cruel as he first suspected. A good sense of humor was always a good thing in Luxord's book, meaning the stranger had less of a chance of feeling X's imaginary ire and a higher probability of Luxord telling him something useful. It was still not a high probability, simply higher.

"It's a miracle, yes I know. I've been told, however, that," he trailed off, distracted, the screaming from another obvious newcomer catching the Nobody's attention and, for a minute, he could not decide what was more depressing--that he could actually understand and make sense of everything coming out of the man's mouth or that he found it comical. He had been spending too much time around II, really.

...back to the person in front of him, though. X extended a hand to the man, a wry grin on his face as he did so. "You've not yet given me your name. That can be incredibly rude, I will have you know."

[oil_connoisseur]

Agh, I’m sorry, tried to post this earlier but the internet provider kept dropping in and out. Keepin' it classy, Australian ‘broadband’.

Megatron had never been picky about where his sources of amusement necessarily came from, so when the dulcet tones of a younger screeching human caught at his audio receptors, he pivoted slightly to watch the spectacle. No matter how advanced the Quintessons actually were, it was highly unlikely they had the imagination for such variable characteristic tendencies in their simulations. The Judges within the race were apparently a textbook definition of bipolar, with each joint face for an emotion, while the lackeys barely managed that. He had always found it particularly ironic that they could imbue their creations with such emotional sentience, when they themselves felt sporadically at best.

Which meant, after all the other variables had been eliminated, the most likely conclusion unfortunately seemed to be that he was, in fact, human.

The realisation left Megatron cold. He ended up frozen, staring off to the side for a moment, before catching himself and turning back abruptly to his dining companion with a raised eyebrow.

“…I suppose that happens quite often,” Megatron deadpanned, but was unable to completely hide the tightness in his jaw.

He highly doubted, despite the formidable amount of humans surrounding them, that they were still on Earth - possibly an oversized containment unit on Quintessa. Place enough recording devices around the rooms, catch a few non-humans and transfer their processors into human forms, and one would have the equivalent of human ‘reality television’ via Quintesson broadcasting programming.

Disgusting.

Megatron was not impressed to be apart of the entertainment. He was being mocked by creatures so pathetic that they did not even have walking servos. What better way to remove Megatron as an issue to their livelihood by giving him a fate worse than death.

Humanity.

Realising that the human - his fellow human, for Spark’s sake - had extended a hand in pleasantry, Megatron reluctantly reciprocated, grasping the man’s hand in a strong grip despite his bandaged arm.

Pulling back, Megatron spread his hands in an apologetic gesture, with an almost lazy smile. "Forgive me for my dreadful behavior. Apparently I’ve forgotten the meaning of decorum."

The question of a name did make him halt. Judging by the man’s earlier expression, he’d caught onto the fact that Megatron wasn’t necessarily human. It made sense, as Megatron surely couldn’t have been the first Cybertronian the Quintessons had brought through here. They would have had to refine their experiment, because if an error had occurred during Megatron’s processor transfer, they would have lost a valuable asset - what’s worse, they would have nothing to hold over the Autobots. It was a logical plan. If the Autobots didn’t behave, the Quintessons could set Megatron loose on Cybertron.

He couldn’t help but wonder who - or what - else they had managed to catch.

"I apparently now referred to as a ‘Walter Hamilton’, but I am known as - "

He paused. He would admit to being Cybertronian - but it didn’t mean he had to admit to being himself.

With a slow, easy smirk, he finished, "Ultra Magnus. Yourself?"

[clockmongler]

Hm. Strong, firm handshake. It was a good sign, but it never told the whole story. The name he was given, on the other hand...

Ah, so they were going to play this game again, were they not? Luxord shook his head and chuckled as he brought his hand back, unconvinced. Either people would learn how to lie without hesitating or X would just have to call them out every instance. He would be fine with either or. "What is your name, Mr. Magnus?"

Why was it that others felt the need to lie about their names? A name was a name. The fact that they would hide something so rudimentary and simple was enough to drive the Nobody around the bend. Was it that simple 'a name brings power' stigma that mortals held so dear? Not that this "Magnus" was a human. Ugh.

[oil_connoisseur]

Megatron, completely unapologetic, quirked his lips in response. “Oh, you are far too quick.”

Apparently his processors weren’t up to full speed yet - he was still sluggish, and hopefully this was a misstep that wouldn’t cost him. Unfortunately, that most likely meant consuming more fuel, and the sight of cold pancakes partially bloated with absorbed syrup wasn’t necessarily an appetising one. It made Megatron long for a container of rich oil - one of the few amenities on Earth that was surprisingly passable. At any rate, Megatron could not afford to be off his game anymore than he was, so he reluctantly took another two bites and slowly chewed as he mulled over the human’s request.

Settling back once again in his chair, and interlacing his fingers, he eyed the man in barely concealed amusement. “Is the name ‘Megatron’ more adequate to your purposes, Mr…?”

[clockmongler]

"Luxord," he supplied helpfully, evidently pleased with himself. At least this one did not fight with him over such a silly thing as Mr. Grants had. They all came around eventually, but it made things much smoother if they simply gave in before he became exasperated with them.

The new name was... surprisingly familiar, however. The Nobody paused, bringing his hand upward to stroke his goatee (apparently forgetting about the pressing issue of the blood under his nails) in thought. It was merely something he'd seen in a passing glance, yet the memory was so strong. Why? It must not have been so important for him to not comment on it, but-...

Ah, yes. He should have know. The grin on his face grew disturbingly creepy as the realization dawned on him. "You'd not happen to be one of those... 'Decepti-somethings, hm? I believe your little robot friends have been searching for you."

[oil_connoisseur]

There were few circumstances in the entirety of his existence that had left Megatron genuinely bemused - the knowledge that he was not the only Decepticon idiotic enough to get caught by the Quintessons was certainly one of them. The astonishment did not outwardly show, but he could not entirely conceal the tensing of his muscles.

Megatron had been disabled by stasis lock in order to be captured. What was their justification? Even more problematic was that the subordinates in consideration were apparently behaving blatantly enough to spread themselves throughout the human faction. 'Subtly' was not necessarily a trait found in most of his Decepticon warriors, but secrecy certainly needed to be.

"Decepticon. I am used to my reputation proceeding me, but not usually to... such an extent," he told Luxord dryly, beginning to drum his fingers against the table again as he mused on this new revelation.

Leaning forward, Megatron braced himself against the table and considered Luxord. "I don't suppose you would know which of my 'little robot friends' in particular?"

'Little' robot friends, indeed. An oxymoron if he'd ever heard one. As engaging as this 'Luxord' seemed to be, if Megatron were in his usual Cybertronian body, he would have no qualms of squashing him underfoot. In the name of the All-Spark, he would even delight in it.

[clockmongler]

And if Luxord had his powers, he would delight in turning the other into a die and punting him off a cliff, so it appeared they were at an impasse in that regard.

He shook his head at that question, however. In between all the 'slag this' and 'SLAG THAT, DISGUSTING HUMANS' and the occasional 'sex auuuuuugh sex', X never bothered paying much attention to their names. "Perhaps you should inquire on the bulletin board? They enjoy spamming the poor thing, so it should not be difficult to find your answers."

His bacon was going to grow cold if he did not eat it, but he could not bother with it at the moment. There was something about the idea of eating in front of others that the blond did not like.

Megs = an air-borne dice // Luxord = more squished than the Wicked Witch of the East. Going well!

[oil_connoisseur]

"Bulletin Board?" Megatron inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Appreciated."

Noting Luxord’s scrutiny with his food, Megatron reluctantly turned back to his own. He was thankfully starting to gain a little more dexterity as he became gradually used to using muscles over hydraulics.

"Even though it is not necessarily within the boundaries of your ‘rules’ from earlier - approximately how long have you been a captive with in this facility?" Megatron quired after a moment, observing Luxord out of the corner of his eye. He offered a condescending smile to the other man. “Of course, you are more than welcome to say 'no'."

The only way the Quintessons could have sourced such a large quality of humans was if they had obviously been to Earth. Considering Luxord was clearly quite resigned to the entire situation, he wouldn’t be a recent addition to the kept herd... surely there must have been multiple excursions to the backwater planet? Megatron supposed he could see why, as humans were lacking in stature even in comparison to something as diminutive as a Quintesson - with decent cloaking technology, it must have been an easy task to collect them by the dozen.

What made him furious was that they could have been in his vicinity for nearly half a meta-cycle without Megatron having any idea whatsoever. If the Quintessons had been keeping watch on the movements of the Earth-bound Decepticons, it would have been easy to see a profitable opening when the spacebridge malfunctioned.

...and judging by Luxord’s description of the proceedings with this 'Bulletin Board', it wasn't hard to guess who they had also captured in the process.

Obviously BFF material~*~*~

[clockmongler]

"Four weeks, two days, three hours, and twenty-nine minutes." He was asked about his precious Time, after all. How could he say no? That condescending smile sent his way was only dealt with via a shit-eating grin, though. If Megatron had found himself in this facility, he was obviously no better than the Gambler. "I consider myself within Fortune's favor, however. Most barely last three days before disappearing back into the nothingness or being slaughtered violently."

He began rolling the die across his knuckles once again, examining the light reflecting off of its surface as he spoke. "Shall we make a wager on your survival? You act competent enough to last at least a week."

They should get matching rings! It would be so... creepy.

[oil_connoisseur]

Slaughtered. They were not keeping them? Did that mean it was likened to a gladiatorial event? The humans were only sufficiently entertaining for a few mega-cycles before they annihilated them, and a new batch was brought out? After spending stellar-cycles of his youth within a fighting arena, it was not a scenario Megatron was unfamiliar with, but it was certainly not one he had ever expected to find himself in ever again.

That being said, Megatron used to be in possession of a fusion canon and swords to defend himself. He was now left with easily broken bones, flesh, and not a single combat simulator to speak of. There was not a chance that the Quintessons would transfer him to his Cybertronian body without a fight before Megatron found himself on the scrapheap.

...he would have no qualms about tearing a few of them apart first.

"So I suppose I should say your survival rate is most impressive," Megatron reflected, eyeing Luxord carefully. The human was apparently more capable than he let on.

"I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge, but -" Megatron spread his hands with an amused tilt of his head, "-it would seem I have nothing to wager in my livelihood on. Unless, of course, you’re particularly partial to half-eaten breakfasts."

Matching earrings, maybe? Luxord can always use some more.

[clockmongler]

If by "capable," the Decepticon meant "extremely stubborn, strong willed, and allergic to the very notion of physical effort and therefore escape attempts as well." Or simply "rolls with the punches." Either or. Then yes. Luxord was very capable.

He could almost hear Xigbar chastising him for being lazy. He was not lazy, he would have to say in response. He was only unmotivated and did not like straining himself over something that did not seem worth it. Gambling, on the other hand, was always worth it.

"I've been offered worse," he said plainly, attention mostly absorbed by the die dancing across the back of his hand. He rolled it back onto his palm before letting it fall against the table with a little clatter. Ugh, two. "Perhaps you may come to possess some interesting items or insight during your stay here. One can never be too sure in a facility such as this." X leaned in and narrowed his eyes as he spoke, almost as if he were talking to the game piece resting on the table instead of the man in front of him. With more effort than it took during the night, the die moved, flipping once onto its side until only one little white dot was facing upward. That was much better. Luxord sat back up and continued grinning at Mr. Megatron. "Surely you will find something of worth. I can only hope Lady Luck is on your side as much as she is mine. I would loathe to see you vanish before then."