[Animated] Criss-Cross
a/n: An update before I can post what I wrote for the flash fiction. ;) Self-beta'ed, my friends.
Title: Criss-Cross
Universe: Transformers Animated, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Description: Onslaught reports success and Megatron is not as pleased as he ought to be.
Megatron is on the bridge, clicking through a series of star maps, when his plating prickles and he knows he's being watched. There are few mechs onboard this ship who would not immediately announce themselves and would also have the bearings to approach him, which means he doesn't need more than one guess.
“I presume you have good news for me?”
“That depends on the outcome you intended.”
Onslaught. He'd been right.
Megatron taps the screen to save his calculations and turns to face his general. “You made contact?”
Onslaught's visor brightens, a hint to the smirk beneath his mask. “Barricade is nothing if not useful. One of these orn he might even figure out how much and demand more for his services.”
“And?”
“You were right.” Onslaught steps closer, lowering his vocals to keep others from overhearing. Though of his soldiers on the bridge, most are wise enough to not make it obvious they are eavesdropping. “He's looking for allies.”
Not unexpected.
Megatron moves past his general and gestures for Onslaught to follow him, mentally chewing on this detail. Autobots are notoriously social creatures. It was only a matter of time before Optimus overcame his inhibitions and ventured beyond the circle Megatron crafted for him. Especially if he thinks there is still some chance for escape.
Megatron holds no illusions. If Optimus is looking for allies, he will find them. Megatron knows that there are some Decepticons sympathetic to the Autobots. It's his job to make sure Optimus doesn't find those Decepticons, or if he does, it's only so Megatron can remove them from his ship.
“I'm certain you're using the utmost subtlety in presenting yourself as one,” Megatron says once they are finally clear of the bridge.
Onslaught chuckles. “This one does not require much subterfuge. You have left him lonely, Lord Megatron. Was it your intent to isolate him so?”
“He is a prisoner. He is not meant to have friends.”
Onslaught makes a low noise that Megatron is hard-pressed to identify. “A prisoner that we do not keep in the brig? I'm not even sure the infantry will believe that one. Sir.” The latter is belatedly added.
Megatron tosses a glare at Onslaught but unfortunately, his general is of a size with him, and skill. Megatron is not about to brawl with Onslaught here in the hallway. But that doesn't mean he'll forget this discourtesy either.
Onslaught blithely returns the look, his expression hidden by that damnable visor and mask. “In fact, Barricade tells me there's a rumor spreading amid the lower ranks.”
“A rumor.”
“That the Prime is more than a means to an end.”
Megatron looks at Onslaught from the edge of his optical feed. “Is there not enough tasks to be completed around here that my Decepticons have nothing better to do than gossip?”
Onslaught's engine rumbles. “Does that mean you're not interested in cuddling the cute Autobot?” He tilts his helm to the side.
Megatron keys the door open to his office and gestures Onslaught to precede him. His general obeys and that only earns him the barest of mercies.
The moment the door slides shut, Megatron grasps him by the throat and shoves him against the door, the dull thud echoing in the confines of his office. His free hand grabs and twists Onslaught's wrists before the thought to retaliate can even cross Onslaught's processor. And he doesn't miss the subtle whine of defensive subroutines cycling up.
“Watch him. Befriend him,” Megatron hisses in a low tone. “But it goes no further. Understand?”
He can feel Onslaught's intake working beneath his fingers.
“But of course, my lord,” Onslaught says, and his visor dims. His frame is noticeably tense, his field so flat as to be stale. “This is only a mission. I would never think to overstep my bounds.” His free hand rises as though to wrap around Megatron's wrist, but he hesitates and closes his fingers into a fist. “Shall I relay that order to the troops?”
Megatron's optics narrow. Perhaps choosing Onslaught for this task was not the best idea after all. But it's too late to reissue the order. It simply means he'll have to keep a closer watch on Onslaught.
“You can tighten Vortex's leash,” Megatron says. “That will be restriction enough.” He tightens his grip a fraction more, feeling the metal give a little beneath his fingers, before he releases Onslaught and takes a step back.
Onslaught does not move, save to touch his intake with the tip of two fingers. “And Swindle?” His vocals have a touch of static to them.
This Megatron does have an answer for. “Strika has him. Perform admirably and I'll see that you are reunited with your team.”
Onslaught's visor glows a baleful red at him. “Of course, my lord. I live to serve.” The dip of his helm is a performance for his own benefit.
“Dismissed.”
Onslaught's salute is picture-perfect, and he takes himself from Megatron's office without further comment.
Megatron presses his lipplates together and steps behind his desk, activating his comm with an expectation that he will not be ignored.
“Yes, Lord Megatron?”
“Blitzwing,” Megatron says, his engine rumbling with disquiet. “Report to my office. I have a task for you.” He ends the comm without waiting for Blitzwing to acknowledge.
He, at least, is both reliable and loyal. And Onslaught bears watching by someone Megatron can trust.
****
a/n: What's up with Onslaught and his team? Did Megatron actually out-think Optimus? Does Onslaught have something else up his... sleeve? You'll have to stay tuned to find out because not even I'm sure.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. It prods the muses into figuring out what comes next. Thanks!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/271565.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Criss-Cross
Universe: Transformers Animated, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Onslaught
Rating: T
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Description: Onslaught reports success and Megatron is not as pleased as he ought to be.
Megatron is on the bridge, clicking through a series of star maps, when his plating prickles and he knows he's being watched. There are few mechs onboard this ship who would not immediately announce themselves and would also have the bearings to approach him, which means he doesn't need more than one guess.
“I presume you have good news for me?”
“That depends on the outcome you intended.”
Onslaught. He'd been right.
Megatron taps the screen to save his calculations and turns to face his general. “You made contact?”
Onslaught's visor brightens, a hint to the smirk beneath his mask. “Barricade is nothing if not useful. One of these orn he might even figure out how much and demand more for his services.”
“And?”
“You were right.” Onslaught steps closer, lowering his vocals to keep others from overhearing. Though of his soldiers on the bridge, most are wise enough to not make it obvious they are eavesdropping. “He's looking for allies.”
Not unexpected.
Megatron moves past his general and gestures for Onslaught to follow him, mentally chewing on this detail. Autobots are notoriously social creatures. It was only a matter of time before Optimus overcame his inhibitions and ventured beyond the circle Megatron crafted for him. Especially if he thinks there is still some chance for escape.
Megatron holds no illusions. If Optimus is looking for allies, he will find them. Megatron knows that there are some Decepticons sympathetic to the Autobots. It's his job to make sure Optimus doesn't find those Decepticons, or if he does, it's only so Megatron can remove them from his ship.
“I'm certain you're using the utmost subtlety in presenting yourself as one,” Megatron says once they are finally clear of the bridge.
Onslaught chuckles. “This one does not require much subterfuge. You have left him lonely, Lord Megatron. Was it your intent to isolate him so?”
“He is a prisoner. He is not meant to have friends.”
Onslaught makes a low noise that Megatron is hard-pressed to identify. “A prisoner that we do not keep in the brig? I'm not even sure the infantry will believe that one. Sir.” The latter is belatedly added.
Megatron tosses a glare at Onslaught but unfortunately, his general is of a size with him, and skill. Megatron is not about to brawl with Onslaught here in the hallway. But that doesn't mean he'll forget this discourtesy either.
Onslaught blithely returns the look, his expression hidden by that damnable visor and mask. “In fact, Barricade tells me there's a rumor spreading amid the lower ranks.”
“A rumor.”
“That the Prime is more than a means to an end.”
Megatron looks at Onslaught from the edge of his optical feed. “Is there not enough tasks to be completed around here that my Decepticons have nothing better to do than gossip?”
Onslaught's engine rumbles. “Does that mean you're not interested in cuddling the cute Autobot?” He tilts his helm to the side.
Megatron keys the door open to his office and gestures Onslaught to precede him. His general obeys and that only earns him the barest of mercies.
The moment the door slides shut, Megatron grasps him by the throat and shoves him against the door, the dull thud echoing in the confines of his office. His free hand grabs and twists Onslaught's wrists before the thought to retaliate can even cross Onslaught's processor. And he doesn't miss the subtle whine of defensive subroutines cycling up.
“Watch him. Befriend him,” Megatron hisses in a low tone. “But it goes no further. Understand?”
He can feel Onslaught's intake working beneath his fingers.
“But of course, my lord,” Onslaught says, and his visor dims. His frame is noticeably tense, his field so flat as to be stale. “This is only a mission. I would never think to overstep my bounds.” His free hand rises as though to wrap around Megatron's wrist, but he hesitates and closes his fingers into a fist. “Shall I relay that order to the troops?”
Megatron's optics narrow. Perhaps choosing Onslaught for this task was not the best idea after all. But it's too late to reissue the order. It simply means he'll have to keep a closer watch on Onslaught.
“You can tighten Vortex's leash,” Megatron says. “That will be restriction enough.” He tightens his grip a fraction more, feeling the metal give a little beneath his fingers, before he releases Onslaught and takes a step back.
Onslaught does not move, save to touch his intake with the tip of two fingers. “And Swindle?” His vocals have a touch of static to them.
This Megatron does have an answer for. “Strika has him. Perform admirably and I'll see that you are reunited with your team.”
Onslaught's visor glows a baleful red at him. “Of course, my lord. I live to serve.” The dip of his helm is a performance for his own benefit.
“Dismissed.”
Onslaught's salute is picture-perfect, and he takes himself from Megatron's office without further comment.
Megatron presses his lipplates together and steps behind his desk, activating his comm with an expectation that he will not be ignored.
“Yes, Lord Megatron?”
“Blitzwing,” Megatron says, his engine rumbling with disquiet. “Report to my office. I have a task for you.” He ends the comm without waiting for Blitzwing to acknowledge.
He, at least, is both reliable and loyal. And Onslaught bears watching by someone Megatron can trust.
****
a/n: What's up with Onslaught and his team? Did Megatron actually out-think Optimus? Does Onslaught have something else up his... sleeve? You'll have to stay tuned to find out because not even I'm sure.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. It prods the muses into figuring out what comes next. Thanks!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/271565.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.