[TFA] Debates and Determination
a/n: Another flash fiction fill! This one's longer than my usual update but hopefully, just as interesting. ;) Also, is self-betaed.
Title: Debates and Determination
Universe: Animated, Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Optimus, Strika
Rating: K+
Warning: None really
Description: Megatron dodges Optimus' questions, presents a couple of his own, and in the mean time, Strika acquires a few Autobots.
For dellessa's flash fiction prompt: MegatronxOptimus, TFA, reserved
He lets Optimus stew for a couple days, not that he doesn't watch from afar. Despite their heated discussion, Optimus is not dissuaded from making friends. He draws more into his sphere of influence beyond Onslaught and Reflector. The only one who might possibly be of concern is Octane but Megatron is not worried. Barricade assures him that he and his team have surveillance well in hand.
Besides, not only does this give Optimus time to consider, but it also gives Megatron time to finish setting his plans in motion. Optimus is only a side project. Retaking Cybertron remains the ultimate objective, with or without the Prime's assistance.
Shockwave reports an increasing restlessness in the Autobot element. There have been murmurs over Optimus' disappearance, but they are limited to a select few. No one of high rank cares to notice. What Ultra Magnus is thinking, Megatron has no clue.
He'd looked into Optimus' history, or he'd had Shockwave do so. He'd seen the Prime's files, what had caused him to be expelled from the Academy and banished to the far corners of Autobot territory for space bridge maintenance.
Someone wants Optimus Prime out of the way. Megatron is inclined to find out who. And why. It can't have been Sentinel, that buffoon is in no way capable of thinking that far ahead. Ultra Magnus, however, is no fool. He has some reason for being rid of Optimus without resorting to assassination, but Megatron has yet to discern what. He doubts Optimus knows either.
No. Optimus is the sort to insist that his punishment is his due as he fails to recognize his own value. Having a friend like Sentinel does not help matters, Megatron supposes. But if he could somehow use that, cultivate a confidence in Optimus, well, the Prime can make a fine Decepticon.
He only has to break through that damnable Autobot indoctrination first.
This time, Megatron summoned Optimus to his office. Usually, he sought out the little Prime, a planned concession to allowing Optimus to think he is more than a prisoner.
When the Autobot arrives, it is with a sullen air better reserved for sparklings. To be fair, in Megatron's optics, Optimus is very young. Young and naive, though perhaps losing some of that naivete the longer he remains aboard the warship.
“You called?” Optimus asks, lingering just inside the door frame with a quick glance to the offered chair as though it is there to harm him.
It is almost adorable. Megatron knows the stories, the lies, the Autobots spread about him and his Decepticons. Contrary to popular belief, he does not consume Autobot protoforms for breakfast. They are not nearly nutritious enough.
“I thought we might have a conversation,” Megatron says, pushing away just far enough from his desk to appear casual. “Have a seat.”
Optimus' optics narrows but he does sit, though on the edge of the chair with his backstrut perfectly straight. “A conversation.”
“A friendly conversation.” After all, Optimus has no issues with chatting up Megatron's Decepticons in the refectory and trying to make friends or allies. So it can't be that Optimus doesn't like talking to Decepticons.
Of course, it doesn't come as a surprise that Optimus' hesitance is related to Megatron. He thinks Onslaught and Reflector and Octane to be safer, never mind that two of them are larger even than Megatron. Optimus hasn't a clue what madness he's let near his spark.
Onslaught might be obeying Megatron because he has learned the consequences of his disobedience. But he is using Optimus for his own ends just as much.
“We're not friends,” Optimus says.
“True. But that doesn't mean we can't be friendly.” Megatron resists the urge to smile. It never does much to put the little Prime at ease.
“With my captor? Impossible.” Optimus huffs a ventilation. “What do you really want, Megatron? I'm tired of playing games with you.”
Megatron leans back and braces one ankle strut over a knee, lacing his fingers together across his abdominal plating. It highlights the fact that he'd removed his plasma cannon, setting it aside for the conversation. See, little Autobot, how much less of a threat he is?
“I want what I have always wanted, Prime,” Megatron begins, studying Optimus' faceplate for signs of comprehension. “To return to my home. To be treated as a mech worthy of basic inalienable rights. And to defeat the Autobots, who would prefer above all else, to maintain the status quo.”
Optimus' face ripples with irritation. “You're being purposefully obtuse.”
“Am I?” He arches an orbital ridge.
Optimus grips the arms of his chair, his field loosened from his tight control so that Megatron gets a brief taste of it. Frustration. Confusion. The beginning threads of dispirit.
He is at a very receptive stage.
Behind Megatron, his console beeps, indicating an incoming transmission. He half-turns, reading the ident code - Strika. This is either very good or very bad news, but knowing his general, Megatron is inclined to think of it as the former. She has yet to lose him a battle.
Megatron accepts the call, reading the burst of surprise from Optimus' field as he does so. No doubt the Prime expected to be dismissed. It might yet happen. But, for now, let him see first hand the truth of Megatron's leadership.
“Strika,” he greets as the screen flashes and her faceplate comes into view, a haze of recent battle around her and a patch of temp plating on one shoulder. But it is not the expression of one who has suffered defeat. “I trust you have good news?”
“Yes, my lord.” Her gaze flicks past him, to Optimus, but she does not question his presence. “We've taken the space bridge with no casualties on our end. Several Autobots are in our custody.”
Behind him, Megatron hears Optimus' chair creak, his ventilations stutter, but he doesn't speak. He shows concern for these Autobots, despite not being around to be friendly with them. Interesting.
“Are they of any use?” Megatron asks, careful to keep his tone mild.
“One is a Prime. Oilslick awaits my orders to give him the antidote.”
“Antidote?”
“Cosmic Rust, my lord.”
Eugh. Not a pleasant manner in which to offline. Megatron would have preferred his Decepticons to be more straightforward in their talents, but needs must.
“Give it to him.” Should Optimus prove unhelpful by the end, it is wise to have a back up plan. “Treat our guests with care, Strika. We have a war to win.”
Strika is silent a moment, as though trying to read deeper into his orders. No doubt she'll ask him later, without his Autobot eavesdropper, about clarification. He doesn't plan on rescinding the command. He needs those Autobots alive.
War is fought on more fronts than battles of blaster and fist. He could kill all Autobots, take Cybertron by force, and still find himself the loser. If there is anything his time on Earth has taught him, it is that there is more to victory than destroying his opponents in their entirety.
“As you say, Lord Megatron,” Strika says, her tone carefully neutral. “Slipstream proved an effective leader. I have yet to see if the others are useful yet.”
Megatron raps his fingers on the edge of the desk, considering. Strika has taken several of Starscream's clones under her supervision, along with the Constructicons. They are her helmache to handle. He trusts that she will either turn them into effective soldiers, or find some way to be rid of them.
“I see.” Behind him, Optimus makes another noise but it is not enough for Megatron to acknowledge him. “And the other Autobots?”
“There is a medic and three warriors. One will not survive. He would not surrender.”
A pity. Well, you can't win them all.
Megatron inclines his helm. “Very good. I expect to hear from Turmoil and Scourge shortly. As soon as I do, I will give the order for the next stage. Continue to hold your position.”
“Yes, my lord. As you command.” Strika ducks her helm in a bow, but her optics flick to Optimus once more before the screen fuzzes out into static. She is not truly gone, but Optimus does not know that.
“Planning on a public execution?”
He's surprised Optimus has waited this long to say something. Megatron turns slowly back to the Autobot.
“I'm not an Autobot,” Megatron replies, bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair and lacing his fingers together. “I don't need such gestures to prove my superiority.”
The little Prime's face darkens with emotion, disbelief and disdain chief among them. “Then what are you going to do with them? More pets for your collection?”
Megatron chuckles. “When the one I have is so much trouble? I think not. They'll be safe and sound in Strika's brig until such time as I have reclaimed Cybertron.”
“You seem confident that you'll win.”
His lips pulls into a smirk as Megatron rises to his pedes. “My dear, Prime. What both you and the rest of Autobot High Command fail to realize is that I already have.” The destruction of the space bridge on Earth had been a setback, not a defeat. And as a matter of fact, it has proven fortuitous.
Not only has he gained more skilled soldiers, but more time to further enact his plan has given him a better foothold on Cybertron. He will lose far less soldiers this way.
Megatron braces his weight on the desk and looks straight into Optimus' optics. “What remains to be seen is whether you will make the smart choice, or the fatal one. While I have spent considerable resource on you, you are not irreplaceable.” He pauses, a touch of irony attacking him. “What is it the Autobots say, after all? You are but a cog in the great machine?”
Anger darkens the Prime's expression, his lips thinning in a manner that makes him far more attractive than the sullen cast he'd brought in earlier.
“You're mocking me,” he says.
“I am trying to make you think rather than blindly follow the propaganda they've been feeding you for all your function,” Megatron corrects, not that it does anything to soothe the Prime's growing frustration.
His optics have darkened. His frame grows tense. His field is stark and withdrawn. Were he a Decepticon, this probably would have come to physical blows. Neat and clean. Afterward, they would have made great friends.
But Optimus is still Autobot. And he relies on words when they no longer suffice.
He pushes to his pedes, chair shrieking out from beneath him. “No. You want me to believe your propaganda instead. As if it's any better.”
Optimus is as stubborn as Starscream, Megatron notes with some irritation.
“Then allow me to ask you something,” Megatron says, but he holds up a hand before Optimus can speak. “No. I don't expect you to answer. I only expect you to think about the answers.”
Optimus clamps his mouth shut and he glares, but he indicates that he will listen. Good. It is a start.
“One,” Megatron begins and he holds up a finger. “What did Ultra Magnus tell you when you first contacted him upon finding the Allspark?”
He's had many, many years to consider what happened. While Megatron is glad that he hadn't been set upon by the entire Elite Guard at the time, it has been a curious thing. Even more so when upon waking on Earth, the Elite Guard still had not come to Optimus Prime's aid. Despite knowing of the presence of Decepticons on the planet.
It could come down that they don't care what happens to Earth, but it would also mean that they don't much care about what happens to Optimus Prime either. Which is startlingly short-sighted considering that Optimus is one of their precious Primes. And will Optimus think to question it? Of course not. No doubt the fool thinks he deserves it because it is his punishment after the unfortunate circumstances surrounding his friend, Elita-One.
To Megatron, it comes as no surprise that politics are still the name of the game on Cybertron. That is simply how the Autobots have and always will function. Which is why that institution needs to be destroyed. But that is neither here nor there for the moment.
What he needs is for Optimus to start thinking and stop regurgitating his textbooks. And maybe, somewhere in there, realize that he's more valuable than just some cog. Because at the core of it, that is what the Decepticons want - to be more than a piece of some great machine.
“And two, how is it do you think I awakened? Because it was not Sumdac tinkering with my systems that brought me out of my stasis.”
Optimus needs reminding that the Allspark is not an Autobot artifact. It is a Cybertronian one. Meant for all Cybertronians, not just who the Autobots deem worthy.
Optimus' gaze shifts away, his field flattening. He is, at least, considering the questions.
Megatron sits back down, rearranging himself comfortably in his chair. “You may go,” he says, gesturing to the Prime. “I believe Onslaught is waiting for you, after all.” A reminder, he hoped, that Optimus is not as sneaky as he thought himself to be.
Heat flushes the little Prime's faceplate. “It's a training session.”
“Indeed.”
And it had better remain a training session if Onslaught wishes to remain functional. Megatron is well aware of the mech's inclinations.
Optimus stares at him for a moment longer before he turns on a heelstrut and takes his leave, his field a confusing tangle of emotion.
Behind Megatron, his console continues to flash, reminding him that Strika waits for him to return to the call. The false static clears from the screen, resolving into the faceplate of his soon-to-be second-in-command. He can think of none better suited for the role.
“Is your investment paying off?”
Megatron spins back around to face her with a smirk. “We shall see.”
“I do not understand why you do not be rid of the Autobot, my Lord. He is too smart to be kept caged.”
“I am loathe to be rid of anything or anyone that could be useful.” If there is anyone he could trust with the particulars of his plan, it is Strika. And perhaps Shockwave, but that worthy is unavailable. “Tell me, Strika, what do you know of construction? Of economics? Of energon farming or judicial proceedings?”
A light of understanding brightens her optics. “Very little.”
“Precisely. Autobots have their uses. And while I can take over Cybertron, retaining it is another issue. The more I appease the masses, the less likely they are to form a revolution of their own.”
A small smile curves Strika's lips. “You have learned, my lord.”
“The humans aren't entirely useless.” There had been very little to do while trapped as nothing but his helm but study the world in which he'd found himself. And the humans are very, very good at warfare.
“Organics have their place,” Strika chuckles. “Shall I try and court these Autobots, too, or save you the honor?”
“Do what you think is best. We could always use more medics.” What he has in his medbay could hardly be called a medical staff. Few Decepticon field medics had survived the first war. And of course, without access to the Academy, he can train no others.
Strika's grin would have struck fear into the sparks of many an Autobot. “I've the feeling she and Slipstream will make nice.”
“I wish you luck.”
“And you as well, my lord. Autobots are not be easily tamed and I suspect that one is more stubborn than most.”
Megatron flashes his denta. “Then it is fortunate I do not seek a minion.”
Strika laughs and signed off, as busy if not more than Megatron himself. He relies on her for many things, far more than Scourge or Turmoil, the latter of whom he can not trust, like Onslaught. However, unlike Onslaught, Megatron does not have something of value to Turmoil. There might come a time when he will need to dispose of the mech.
But for now, Turmoil remains useful.
Just like Optimus Prime.
****
a/n: ;) Notice how often Megatron doesn't answer the questions Optimus presents. Ah. He's so much fun to write. This story is getting more and more out of hand but I just can't stop. Also, a few tidbits of retcon in here because now that I know where my story has been, I realized I forgot a few things/characters/events. Oops. Expect to see a few more in future updates.
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/280219.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Title: Debates and Determination
Universe: Animated, Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Optimus, Strika
Rating: K+
Warning: None really
Description: Megatron dodges Optimus' questions, presents a couple of his own, and in the mean time, Strika acquires a few Autobots.
For dellessa's flash fiction prompt: MegatronxOptimus, TFA, reserved
He lets Optimus stew for a couple days, not that he doesn't watch from afar. Despite their heated discussion, Optimus is not dissuaded from making friends. He draws more into his sphere of influence beyond Onslaught and Reflector. The only one who might possibly be of concern is Octane but Megatron is not worried. Barricade assures him that he and his team have surveillance well in hand.
Besides, not only does this give Optimus time to consider, but it also gives Megatron time to finish setting his plans in motion. Optimus is only a side project. Retaking Cybertron remains the ultimate objective, with or without the Prime's assistance.
Shockwave reports an increasing restlessness in the Autobot element. There have been murmurs over Optimus' disappearance, but they are limited to a select few. No one of high rank cares to notice. What Ultra Magnus is thinking, Megatron has no clue.
He'd looked into Optimus' history, or he'd had Shockwave do so. He'd seen the Prime's files, what had caused him to be expelled from the Academy and banished to the far corners of Autobot territory for space bridge maintenance.
Someone wants Optimus Prime out of the way. Megatron is inclined to find out who. And why. It can't have been Sentinel, that buffoon is in no way capable of thinking that far ahead. Ultra Magnus, however, is no fool. He has some reason for being rid of Optimus without resorting to assassination, but Megatron has yet to discern what. He doubts Optimus knows either.
No. Optimus is the sort to insist that his punishment is his due as he fails to recognize his own value. Having a friend like Sentinel does not help matters, Megatron supposes. But if he could somehow use that, cultivate a confidence in Optimus, well, the Prime can make a fine Decepticon.
He only has to break through that damnable Autobot indoctrination first.
This time, Megatron summoned Optimus to his office. Usually, he sought out the little Prime, a planned concession to allowing Optimus to think he is more than a prisoner.
When the Autobot arrives, it is with a sullen air better reserved for sparklings. To be fair, in Megatron's optics, Optimus is very young. Young and naive, though perhaps losing some of that naivete the longer he remains aboard the warship.
“You called?” Optimus asks, lingering just inside the door frame with a quick glance to the offered chair as though it is there to harm him.
It is almost adorable. Megatron knows the stories, the lies, the Autobots spread about him and his Decepticons. Contrary to popular belief, he does not consume Autobot protoforms for breakfast. They are not nearly nutritious enough.
“I thought we might have a conversation,” Megatron says, pushing away just far enough from his desk to appear casual. “Have a seat.”
Optimus' optics narrows but he does sit, though on the edge of the chair with his backstrut perfectly straight. “A conversation.”
“A friendly conversation.” After all, Optimus has no issues with chatting up Megatron's Decepticons in the refectory and trying to make friends or allies. So it can't be that Optimus doesn't like talking to Decepticons.
Of course, it doesn't come as a surprise that Optimus' hesitance is related to Megatron. He thinks Onslaught and Reflector and Octane to be safer, never mind that two of them are larger even than Megatron. Optimus hasn't a clue what madness he's let near his spark.
Onslaught might be obeying Megatron because he has learned the consequences of his disobedience. But he is using Optimus for his own ends just as much.
“We're not friends,” Optimus says.
“True. But that doesn't mean we can't be friendly.” Megatron resists the urge to smile. It never does much to put the little Prime at ease.
“With my captor? Impossible.” Optimus huffs a ventilation. “What do you really want, Megatron? I'm tired of playing games with you.”
Megatron leans back and braces one ankle strut over a knee, lacing his fingers together across his abdominal plating. It highlights the fact that he'd removed his plasma cannon, setting it aside for the conversation. See, little Autobot, how much less of a threat he is?
“I want what I have always wanted, Prime,” Megatron begins, studying Optimus' faceplate for signs of comprehension. “To return to my home. To be treated as a mech worthy of basic inalienable rights. And to defeat the Autobots, who would prefer above all else, to maintain the status quo.”
Optimus' face ripples with irritation. “You're being purposefully obtuse.”
“Am I?” He arches an orbital ridge.
Optimus grips the arms of his chair, his field loosened from his tight control so that Megatron gets a brief taste of it. Frustration. Confusion. The beginning threads of dispirit.
He is at a very receptive stage.
Behind Megatron, his console beeps, indicating an incoming transmission. He half-turns, reading the ident code - Strika. This is either very good or very bad news, but knowing his general, Megatron is inclined to think of it as the former. She has yet to lose him a battle.
Megatron accepts the call, reading the burst of surprise from Optimus' field as he does so. No doubt the Prime expected to be dismissed. It might yet happen. But, for now, let him see first hand the truth of Megatron's leadership.
“Strika,” he greets as the screen flashes and her faceplate comes into view, a haze of recent battle around her and a patch of temp plating on one shoulder. But it is not the expression of one who has suffered defeat. “I trust you have good news?”
“Yes, my lord.” Her gaze flicks past him, to Optimus, but she does not question his presence. “We've taken the space bridge with no casualties on our end. Several Autobots are in our custody.”
Behind him, Megatron hears Optimus' chair creak, his ventilations stutter, but he doesn't speak. He shows concern for these Autobots, despite not being around to be friendly with them. Interesting.
“Are they of any use?” Megatron asks, careful to keep his tone mild.
“One is a Prime. Oilslick awaits my orders to give him the antidote.”
“Antidote?”
“Cosmic Rust, my lord.”
Eugh. Not a pleasant manner in which to offline. Megatron would have preferred his Decepticons to be more straightforward in their talents, but needs must.
“Give it to him.” Should Optimus prove unhelpful by the end, it is wise to have a back up plan. “Treat our guests with care, Strika. We have a war to win.”
Strika is silent a moment, as though trying to read deeper into his orders. No doubt she'll ask him later, without his Autobot eavesdropper, about clarification. He doesn't plan on rescinding the command. He needs those Autobots alive.
War is fought on more fronts than battles of blaster and fist. He could kill all Autobots, take Cybertron by force, and still find himself the loser. If there is anything his time on Earth has taught him, it is that there is more to victory than destroying his opponents in their entirety.
“As you say, Lord Megatron,” Strika says, her tone carefully neutral. “Slipstream proved an effective leader. I have yet to see if the others are useful yet.”
Megatron raps his fingers on the edge of the desk, considering. Strika has taken several of Starscream's clones under her supervision, along with the Constructicons. They are her helmache to handle. He trusts that she will either turn them into effective soldiers, or find some way to be rid of them.
“I see.” Behind him, Optimus makes another noise but it is not enough for Megatron to acknowledge him. “And the other Autobots?”
“There is a medic and three warriors. One will not survive. He would not surrender.”
A pity. Well, you can't win them all.
Megatron inclines his helm. “Very good. I expect to hear from Turmoil and Scourge shortly. As soon as I do, I will give the order for the next stage. Continue to hold your position.”
“Yes, my lord. As you command.” Strika ducks her helm in a bow, but her optics flick to Optimus once more before the screen fuzzes out into static. She is not truly gone, but Optimus does not know that.
“Planning on a public execution?”
He's surprised Optimus has waited this long to say something. Megatron turns slowly back to the Autobot.
“I'm not an Autobot,” Megatron replies, bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair and lacing his fingers together. “I don't need such gestures to prove my superiority.”
The little Prime's face darkens with emotion, disbelief and disdain chief among them. “Then what are you going to do with them? More pets for your collection?”
Megatron chuckles. “When the one I have is so much trouble? I think not. They'll be safe and sound in Strika's brig until such time as I have reclaimed Cybertron.”
“You seem confident that you'll win.”
His lips pulls into a smirk as Megatron rises to his pedes. “My dear, Prime. What both you and the rest of Autobot High Command fail to realize is that I already have.” The destruction of the space bridge on Earth had been a setback, not a defeat. And as a matter of fact, it has proven fortuitous.
Not only has he gained more skilled soldiers, but more time to further enact his plan has given him a better foothold on Cybertron. He will lose far less soldiers this way.
Megatron braces his weight on the desk and looks straight into Optimus' optics. “What remains to be seen is whether you will make the smart choice, or the fatal one. While I have spent considerable resource on you, you are not irreplaceable.” He pauses, a touch of irony attacking him. “What is it the Autobots say, after all? You are but a cog in the great machine?”
Anger darkens the Prime's expression, his lips thinning in a manner that makes him far more attractive than the sullen cast he'd brought in earlier.
“You're mocking me,” he says.
“I am trying to make you think rather than blindly follow the propaganda they've been feeding you for all your function,” Megatron corrects, not that it does anything to soothe the Prime's growing frustration.
His optics have darkened. His frame grows tense. His field is stark and withdrawn. Were he a Decepticon, this probably would have come to physical blows. Neat and clean. Afterward, they would have made great friends.
But Optimus is still Autobot. And he relies on words when they no longer suffice.
He pushes to his pedes, chair shrieking out from beneath him. “No. You want me to believe your propaganda instead. As if it's any better.”
Optimus is as stubborn as Starscream, Megatron notes with some irritation.
“Then allow me to ask you something,” Megatron says, but he holds up a hand before Optimus can speak. “No. I don't expect you to answer. I only expect you to think about the answers.”
Optimus clamps his mouth shut and he glares, but he indicates that he will listen. Good. It is a start.
“One,” Megatron begins and he holds up a finger. “What did Ultra Magnus tell you when you first contacted him upon finding the Allspark?”
He's had many, many years to consider what happened. While Megatron is glad that he hadn't been set upon by the entire Elite Guard at the time, it has been a curious thing. Even more so when upon waking on Earth, the Elite Guard still had not come to Optimus Prime's aid. Despite knowing of the presence of Decepticons on the planet.
It could come down that they don't care what happens to Earth, but it would also mean that they don't much care about what happens to Optimus Prime either. Which is startlingly short-sighted considering that Optimus is one of their precious Primes. And will Optimus think to question it? Of course not. No doubt the fool thinks he deserves it because it is his punishment after the unfortunate circumstances surrounding his friend, Elita-One.
To Megatron, it comes as no surprise that politics are still the name of the game on Cybertron. That is simply how the Autobots have and always will function. Which is why that institution needs to be destroyed. But that is neither here nor there for the moment.
What he needs is for Optimus to start thinking and stop regurgitating his textbooks. And maybe, somewhere in there, realize that he's more valuable than just some cog. Because at the core of it, that is what the Decepticons want - to be more than a piece of some great machine.
“And two, how is it do you think I awakened? Because it was not Sumdac tinkering with my systems that brought me out of my stasis.”
Optimus needs reminding that the Allspark is not an Autobot artifact. It is a Cybertronian one. Meant for all Cybertronians, not just who the Autobots deem worthy.
Optimus' gaze shifts away, his field flattening. He is, at least, considering the questions.
Megatron sits back down, rearranging himself comfortably in his chair. “You may go,” he says, gesturing to the Prime. “I believe Onslaught is waiting for you, after all.” A reminder, he hoped, that Optimus is not as sneaky as he thought himself to be.
Heat flushes the little Prime's faceplate. “It's a training session.”
“Indeed.”
And it had better remain a training session if Onslaught wishes to remain functional. Megatron is well aware of the mech's inclinations.
Optimus stares at him for a moment longer before he turns on a heelstrut and takes his leave, his field a confusing tangle of emotion.
Behind Megatron, his console continues to flash, reminding him that Strika waits for him to return to the call. The false static clears from the screen, resolving into the faceplate of his soon-to-be second-in-command. He can think of none better suited for the role.
“Is your investment paying off?”
Megatron spins back around to face her with a smirk. “We shall see.”
“I do not understand why you do not be rid of the Autobot, my Lord. He is too smart to be kept caged.”
“I am loathe to be rid of anything or anyone that could be useful.” If there is anyone he could trust with the particulars of his plan, it is Strika. And perhaps Shockwave, but that worthy is unavailable. “Tell me, Strika, what do you know of construction? Of economics? Of energon farming or judicial proceedings?”
A light of understanding brightens her optics. “Very little.”
“Precisely. Autobots have their uses. And while I can take over Cybertron, retaining it is another issue. The more I appease the masses, the less likely they are to form a revolution of their own.”
A small smile curves Strika's lips. “You have learned, my lord.”
“The humans aren't entirely useless.” There had been very little to do while trapped as nothing but his helm but study the world in which he'd found himself. And the humans are very, very good at warfare.
“Organics have their place,” Strika chuckles. “Shall I try and court these Autobots, too, or save you the honor?”
“Do what you think is best. We could always use more medics.” What he has in his medbay could hardly be called a medical staff. Few Decepticon field medics had survived the first war. And of course, without access to the Academy, he can train no others.
Strika's grin would have struck fear into the sparks of many an Autobot. “I've the feeling she and Slipstream will make nice.”
“I wish you luck.”
“And you as well, my lord. Autobots are not be easily tamed and I suspect that one is more stubborn than most.”
Megatron flashes his denta. “Then it is fortunate I do not seek a minion.”
Strika laughs and signed off, as busy if not more than Megatron himself. He relies on her for many things, far more than Scourge or Turmoil, the latter of whom he can not trust, like Onslaught. However, unlike Onslaught, Megatron does not have something of value to Turmoil. There might come a time when he will need to dispose of the mech.
But for now, Turmoil remains useful.
Just like Optimus Prime.
****
a/n: ;) Notice how often Megatron doesn't answer the questions Optimus presents. Ah. He's so much fun to write. This story is getting more and more out of hand but I just can't stop. Also, a few tidbits of retcon in here because now that I know where my story has been, I realized I forgot a few things/characters/events. Oops. Expect to see a few more in future updates.
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated.
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