arc_wrench
in
damned
Night 41: M61-70 Hallway
Well, that was interesting. He'd just watched Lockdown being escorted out of the room by some of the staff. That meant one of two things, and he quite hoped it was the same as what it had been for him. A night of terrorizing meatbags was always fun, although HK did hope that if this was the case for Lockdown, the former droid would be able to
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Gripping his flashlight in his left hand, he nodded cordially to his roommate. "I have much to do tonight, but I expect to return before dawn. Guten nacht." With that, he stepped outside into the dreary darkness of the hallway. Remembering that he was in a different patient block than before, he carefully observed his surroundings as he traversed the hallway, familiarizing himself with it.
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As he moved to get up from the table, and ignoring the heavily plastic eating utensils, Megatron picked up the desk radio he had been staring at while he had consumed his meal. Efficiently turning it over and drumming the back, Megatron knew that no matter how he could manage to alter it, there would be very little chance that any sort of signal would transmit through the floors, let alone out of the facility. The Quintessons were pathetic, but they were not complete idiots. The prevention of wave transmissions would be the first thing to go. Of course, there was a miniscule possibility that they thought the technology was so utterly primitive that they didn’t bother, but considering the longevity of some of his fellow inmates, one would have certainly tried before - and trying again, judging by the comment on the ‘Bulletin Board’. He doubted the note-writer, this ‘Jaime’, would have much luck.
It was a pity. If he was able to contact Shockwave, his subordinate would have contacted and congregated his strewn army, and they could have forcibly taken the Quintessons’ facility.
...it was another matter entirely if Megatron wanted his army to see him in such a state. It would offer - in cases of subordinates with similar personality’s to Starscream - a perfect assassination attempt. Megatron would be unable to fight back. Loyalty was strong among the Decepticons, but so was reason. Megatron could see no logic in serving a sub-standard leader, and nor would his subordinates in turn. He would no doubt be eliminated as quickly as possible.
An immediate, efficient one-over of the room was again in order. Now that his... roomate was lacking, he could search more intensely. He had been rather forward in his behaviour as it was, but Megatron had been desperate for a weapon.
...even if it was just a primitive writing utensil.
...with a brightly coloured lid.
Searching his surroundings, even his roommate’s side of the room, left him with very little aside from the discovery of a lighting implement - a flashlight. The other man had been carrying one as he had left. Megatron flicked it on and off experimentally, the emitted light sorely lacking in a bright room.
Megatron stretched, rolling his shoulders and shifting on the spot. He was not used to this body by any means, but it was certainly becoming familiar. He experimentally spun on the spot and brought his arms up defensively, only to discover his processor was not as quick as he thought, and it took a few moments for his vision to right itself. He pressed his fingers against his temple with a snort.
Lugnut and weapons were the priority. If his new human processor had even the slightest bit of memory capacity, he should be able to find his way back to the room housing the ‘Bulletin Board’ with very little trouble - unless the Quintessons' were letting out their pets early. Megatron was egotistical, but a realist. He would have as much chance fighting a Sharkticon in such a body as Blitzwing would have a logical conversation.
Needless to say, with much difficulty.
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