[Animated] Stratego
a/n: so this is late. Should have been posted weeks ago, but yanno, life.
Still self-betaed. pretty SFW. still a little cracky. but enjoy?
Title: Stratego
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Optimus
Rating: T
Warning: None
Description: A political debate where Optimus dares to poke the sleeping tiger.
For dellessa's January prompt of MegatronxOptimus, “the right of all sentient beings”
It should be awkward. That it isn't makes Optimus painfully aware that while he resists, it might already be too late.
Perhaps he should give himself props for no longer being afraid of Megatron. Not that he's ever been afraid, per se. But wary certainly.
He studies the game board, well aware that Megatron is studying him in return. He resists the urge to ask the question he's asked Megatron countless times already. Because Megatron has yet to give him a satisfactory answer.
“You are quiet, little Prime.”
Optimus clenches his denta and reminds himself not to rise to Megatron's taunting. “I have a name,” he says.
Megatron chuckles. “I know.” He makes a gesture toward Optimus as though encouraging him to make a move faster. “My observation stands.”
He selects his game piece but hesitates. “I'm not quiet,” Optimus says. “I'm thinking.”
“Of ways to escape my company, no doubt.”
Optimus makes a noncommittal noise and finally completes his turn. He sits back to watch Megatron contemplate his own. “Actually, I was considering something you said.”
“Do tell.”
Optimus cycles a ventilation and hopes he is up for this challenge. It's time to start laying the framework.
“You see yourself as a hero. A liberator. But countless mechs and femmes have died by your hands and your orders.” Optimus is careful to keep his tone even, resisting the urge to squirm. “Isn't that kind of contradictory?”
Silence. The weight of Megatron's stare is like double-reinforced armor on his backstruts.
“You've been studying,” Megatron finally says at length.
Optimus nods. “I have little else to do.” Well, other than slowly but surely making friends of the Decepticons aboard the ship. Not only Onslaught, but also a twitchy little mech named Reflector who didn't look at all like a Decepticon.
“Mm.” Megatron looks at him, tilting his helm. “The Autobots paint me as the villain, yes. They don't see the hypocrisy of their words. Or the evil in their oppression.”
Optimus leans back, only half-feigning his interest. He's read the propaganda and he knows the Autobots are not completely innocent. But hes not about to start waving a Decepticon flag either.
Nothing justifies Megatron's methods, murdering innocent and guilty alike.
“I have only done what has needed to be done,” Megatron continues, words as slow and carefully chosen as his efforts on the gameboard. “To ensure that no mech is ever denied the right to exist.”
“Except for those you killed.”
“Necessary sacrifices.”
“I'm not sure they saw it the same way.”
Megatron sets down his piece with a defining click, completing his turn. “There is little I can do for those too foolish to see through Autobot indoctrination.”
Optimus pops an orbital ridge. “So you punish them for their ignorance?”
Megatron's optics narrow. “I remove obstacles,” he all but hisses.
There's a pause, a moment where Optimus cycles a ventilation and gathers himself. He leans forward, stares at the board, and then shifts his gaze to Megatron.
“And yet, I still function,” he says, and completes his turn swiftly.
Checkmate, is what Sari would say, though the game they play is not chess, there are similarities. Enough that while Optimus ought to feel smug, he doesn't. Because Megatron is violent and unpredictable and Optimus has sat here doing his best to provoke him.
Megatron leans back, casual as you please. “You are not an obstacle,” he says, fingers rapping a nonsense rhythm on his chair. “You are an indulgence.”
Curious choice of words. Optimus is not sure he likes their implication.
“You still think I'm going to change sides?”
“I know you are.” Megatron doesn't once look at the game board as though he has already dismissed that particular stumble. “Tell me, little Autobot, do you know where we are right now?”
Optimus scowls. “Of course I don't.”
Megatron's lips pull into a slow smirk. “We currently occupy neutral space, an Earth week's journey from Cybertron and well within communication range of anyone who wishes to hail us. No, you don't have to believe me. You can confirm this for yourself later.”
And Optimus will be sure to do that. But not until he figures out where Megatron is going with this change of subject.
“I have made no secret of where I am,” Megatron continues, completely at ease. “After all, not even the Autobots would dare encroach neutral space to attack me. And yet, no one has asked about you. Don't you find that odd?”
“I would, if I wasn't certain everyone probably thinks I'm dead,” Optimus retorts. Is that Megatron's endgame? To make Optimus doubt his allies? Because it's not going to work. Optimus trusts his team, even if he doesn't trust Sentinel. He knows that they are at least trying, even if they aren't succeeding.
“They know you live. It simply doesn't matter to them.”
Optimus paints a neutral expression and wonders which course he should take. Should he fake belligerence or pretend that he believes Megatron?
He falls back, lapsing into silence. He stares at the gameboard, feigning distress. “I am one mech,” he says. “And I'm sure you would have demanded some absurd random. I can't fault them for that. Besides, you can't tell me the Decepticons would have behaved any differently.”
He doesn't have to look at Megatron to know he's right. Autobots go back for their own, but he's only ever seen Decepticons leave their own behind. If Megatron wants to take the high ground, he needs to start looking where he steps first.
“There's a difference,” Megatron replies and he rises to his pedes as he says this, something cold-burning behind his optics. “Autobots never offer the return of my soldiers. And if I don't retrieve them myself, it's because they never live long enough for a rescue effort to be launched.”
Optimus squares his jaw. “I don't believe you.”
“Then fortunately for you, I don't live or die by your faith in me.” Megatron reaches for the gameboard and makes a move, one that Optimus realizes ends the game.
“I will see you for training in an hour,” Megatron says, his voice as tight as his field. “Don't be late.”
He sweeps from the room, taking the weight of his presence with him, and Optimus can only watch him go. There's a tension that hadn't been present before and it takes him a moment to realize that he's holding his ventilations. He doesn't know if it's out of fear or something else but for a moment, he expected Megatron to strike him.
Sometimes, he forgets just how dangerous this game can be.
Optimus laces his fingers together and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at the board. Pulling victory from defeat, he observes.
He should not be so surprised.
****
a/n: So. Still pretty nervous about this fic. First forays into new universes are always nerve-wracking. Special thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Your comments are what keep me going and keep the muses chomping. :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. And if anyone has a Decepticon (or even Autobot maybe?) they'd like to see make an appearance, lemme know. I need some 'Cons to fill in some gaps and I could rely only on my favorites, but yanno, nice to branch out?
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/275185.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Still self-betaed. pretty SFW. still a little cracky. but enjoy?
Title: Stratego
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Optimus
Rating: T
Warning: None
Description: A political debate where Optimus dares to poke the sleeping tiger.
For dellessa's January prompt of MegatronxOptimus, “the right of all sentient beings”
It should be awkward. That it isn't makes Optimus painfully aware that while he resists, it might already be too late.
Perhaps he should give himself props for no longer being afraid of Megatron. Not that he's ever been afraid, per se. But wary certainly.
He studies the game board, well aware that Megatron is studying him in return. He resists the urge to ask the question he's asked Megatron countless times already. Because Megatron has yet to give him a satisfactory answer.
“You are quiet, little Prime.”
Optimus clenches his denta and reminds himself not to rise to Megatron's taunting. “I have a name,” he says.
Megatron chuckles. “I know.” He makes a gesture toward Optimus as though encouraging him to make a move faster. “My observation stands.”
He selects his game piece but hesitates. “I'm not quiet,” Optimus says. “I'm thinking.”
“Of ways to escape my company, no doubt.”
Optimus makes a noncommittal noise and finally completes his turn. He sits back to watch Megatron contemplate his own. “Actually, I was considering something you said.”
“Do tell.”
Optimus cycles a ventilation and hopes he is up for this challenge. It's time to start laying the framework.
“You see yourself as a hero. A liberator. But countless mechs and femmes have died by your hands and your orders.” Optimus is careful to keep his tone even, resisting the urge to squirm. “Isn't that kind of contradictory?”
Silence. The weight of Megatron's stare is like double-reinforced armor on his backstruts.
“You've been studying,” Megatron finally says at length.
Optimus nods. “I have little else to do.” Well, other than slowly but surely making friends of the Decepticons aboard the ship. Not only Onslaught, but also a twitchy little mech named Reflector who didn't look at all like a Decepticon.
“Mm.” Megatron looks at him, tilting his helm. “The Autobots paint me as the villain, yes. They don't see the hypocrisy of their words. Or the evil in their oppression.”
Optimus leans back, only half-feigning his interest. He's read the propaganda and he knows the Autobots are not completely innocent. But hes not about to start waving a Decepticon flag either.
Nothing justifies Megatron's methods, murdering innocent and guilty alike.
“I have only done what has needed to be done,” Megatron continues, words as slow and carefully chosen as his efforts on the gameboard. “To ensure that no mech is ever denied the right to exist.”
“Except for those you killed.”
“Necessary sacrifices.”
“I'm not sure they saw it the same way.”
Megatron sets down his piece with a defining click, completing his turn. “There is little I can do for those too foolish to see through Autobot indoctrination.”
Optimus pops an orbital ridge. “So you punish them for their ignorance?”
Megatron's optics narrow. “I remove obstacles,” he all but hisses.
There's a pause, a moment where Optimus cycles a ventilation and gathers himself. He leans forward, stares at the board, and then shifts his gaze to Megatron.
“And yet, I still function,” he says, and completes his turn swiftly.
Checkmate, is what Sari would say, though the game they play is not chess, there are similarities. Enough that while Optimus ought to feel smug, he doesn't. Because Megatron is violent and unpredictable and Optimus has sat here doing his best to provoke him.
Megatron leans back, casual as you please. “You are not an obstacle,” he says, fingers rapping a nonsense rhythm on his chair. “You are an indulgence.”
Curious choice of words. Optimus is not sure he likes their implication.
“You still think I'm going to change sides?”
“I know you are.” Megatron doesn't once look at the game board as though he has already dismissed that particular stumble. “Tell me, little Autobot, do you know where we are right now?”
Optimus scowls. “Of course I don't.”
Megatron's lips pull into a slow smirk. “We currently occupy neutral space, an Earth week's journey from Cybertron and well within communication range of anyone who wishes to hail us. No, you don't have to believe me. You can confirm this for yourself later.”
And Optimus will be sure to do that. But not until he figures out where Megatron is going with this change of subject.
“I have made no secret of where I am,” Megatron continues, completely at ease. “After all, not even the Autobots would dare encroach neutral space to attack me. And yet, no one has asked about you. Don't you find that odd?”
“I would, if I wasn't certain everyone probably thinks I'm dead,” Optimus retorts. Is that Megatron's endgame? To make Optimus doubt his allies? Because it's not going to work. Optimus trusts his team, even if he doesn't trust Sentinel. He knows that they are at least trying, even if they aren't succeeding.
“They know you live. It simply doesn't matter to them.”
Optimus paints a neutral expression and wonders which course he should take. Should he fake belligerence or pretend that he believes Megatron?
He falls back, lapsing into silence. He stares at the gameboard, feigning distress. “I am one mech,” he says. “And I'm sure you would have demanded some absurd random. I can't fault them for that. Besides, you can't tell me the Decepticons would have behaved any differently.”
He doesn't have to look at Megatron to know he's right. Autobots go back for their own, but he's only ever seen Decepticons leave their own behind. If Megatron wants to take the high ground, he needs to start looking where he steps first.
“There's a difference,” Megatron replies and he rises to his pedes as he says this, something cold-burning behind his optics. “Autobots never offer the return of my soldiers. And if I don't retrieve them myself, it's because they never live long enough for a rescue effort to be launched.”
Optimus squares his jaw. “I don't believe you.”
“Then fortunately for you, I don't live or die by your faith in me.” Megatron reaches for the gameboard and makes a move, one that Optimus realizes ends the game.
“I will see you for training in an hour,” Megatron says, his voice as tight as his field. “Don't be late.”
He sweeps from the room, taking the weight of his presence with him, and Optimus can only watch him go. There's a tension that hadn't been present before and it takes him a moment to realize that he's holding his ventilations. He doesn't know if it's out of fear or something else but for a moment, he expected Megatron to strike him.
Sometimes, he forgets just how dangerous this game can be.
Optimus laces his fingers together and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at the board. Pulling victory from defeat, he observes.
He should not be so surprised.
****
a/n: So. Still pretty nervous about this fic. First forays into new universes are always nerve-wracking. Special thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Your comments are what keep me going and keep the muses chomping. :)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. And if anyone has a Decepticon (or even Autobot maybe?) they'd like to see make an appearance, lemme know. I need some 'Cons to fill in some gaps and I could rely only on my favorites, but yanno, nice to branch out?
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/275185.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.