Never Did Run Smooth, Ch. 18
Violent chapter is violent. Just to warn ya. Pretty much two mechs beating the slag out of each other and insulting each other throughout... and no, not in the fun way. (Actually, that might depend on who you are.)
- - - - -
The arena was packed, the lights dim, the resolution on the screen poor. The floor underfoot was sticky with pools of oil and spent energon, and the din of the crowd nearly drowned out the roars of the combatants. It was, Megatron reflected, a rather poor excuse for entertainment. He had been to many such establishments, and found few of them particularly impressive.
But he wasn't here to be entertained, anyhow.
He muscled his way through the crowd, taking advantage of his comparative size and the intimidation factor of the large cannon strapped to his arm. Any mech that wouldn't give way was simply flung aside. There was much growling and swearing, but nobody cared to make an issue of it. Most spectators in a Pitfight were there to watch other mechs get ripped apart, not to risk it themselves. Megatron reached the center ring unchallenged.
He nearly had to jump back as a monster of a mech crashed to the floor in front of him. The fighter was leaking fluids from a dozen deep injuries, his jaw half-severed, wires and cabling exposed. A large sword jutted from his shoulder.
The victor let out an animalistic roar, then strode forward to make the kill. His face and arms were splashed with enemy fuel. He wasn't quite as tall as Megatron -- almost a head shorter, in fact -- but he carried himself in a manner few other Predacons could match. Red optics met Megatron's oh-so-briefly, then fixed on the defeated opponent, ignoring the rest of the crowd entirely. Long, agile hands wrapped around the handle of the sword and wrenched it free. The wounded mech groaned loudly but gave no other response.
He wouldn't have to suffer for much longer.
The warrior raised his blade, positioning it over his opponent's Core, steadying it with both hands. A crackle of energy traveled visibly down the handle as the blade began to spin, each segment rotating counter to the others at a dizzying speed. All around Megatron the crowd grew tense, waiting.
Without hesitation or error the warrior drove his sword down, piercing the mech's chest. There was a shower of sparks and a scream of metal on metal as the blade rapidly disappeared. The fallen fighter shuddered violently, almost bucking off the floor, then abruptly fell still. After the briefest of pauses, cheers went up from the crowd. An announcer's voice boomed something unintelligible over the shouts, unnecessarily announcing the winner.
Megatron never took his optics off the victorious fighter. The sword was buried almost to the hilt, and its owner had to brace both feet on the body to pull it free. Gleaming metal shed drops of energon as it slid from the wound. Several mechs standing nearby offered cleaning rags to the warrior, but Megatron was closest. The fighter took his without a word of thanks or even glancing up to acknowledge him, and began calmly wiping the blade.
It was plain that he took better care of his weapon than of himself. His armor was pitted, dented and scratched from what must have been decades of hard wear, and he sported at least three or four fresh wounds that he wasn't tending at all. He ignored the corpse of his fallen enemy, which was now being dragged into the crowd for dismantling. Such was the way of Cybertron's steel jungle -- when a mech no longer had need of his body, the parts and materials went to those who did. Life was hard in this sector, and there were always many in need.
Satisfied at last with the condition of his blade, the fighter slid it into a sheath on his back. Megatron held out his hand to retrieve the cloth which was now stained with mech fluid. After a brief hesitation, the warrior handed it over.
As their hands made contact, Megatron locked and held the other's gaze with his own, taking a step forward into his personal domain. The warrior visibly tensed, but didn't back down or break the stare. He glared back challengingly. "Was there something you wanted?" His voice was a harsh snarl, no friendlier in civil conversation than the sounds he uttered during combat.
"A few moments of your time, when you're through here. I have a proposition for you." Megatron offered his most disarming smile, but the warrior seemed unconvinced.
"I'm not seeking employment." He started to turn away, but Megatron made the bold move of grabbing his arm. Instantly the warrior's hand went to his sword handle, but he didn't draw just yet.
"What are you seeking, then?" Megatron insisted. "A warrior such as yourself in this unglorious place must be a warrior without purpose. A tragic waste. I could use your skill, as could Cybertron." He saw hesitant interest, and released the warrior's arm, no longer needing it to hold him. "When you've had your fill of blood sport, come and find me outside. I will outline my proposal if you wish to hear. Otherwise, if you're content with performing nightly for this jeering crowd of fools, simply decline and I will walk away."
There was no immediate answer. He hadn't expected one. To give a sense of urgency, he started to turn away, and smiled inwardly in triumph when a clawed hand landed -- lightly, almost tentatively, as though unaccustomed to initiating such contact -- on his shoulder.
"I have three more fights ahead of me tonight. If you are still waiting when the last opponent falls, I will listen to your offer. Perhaps accept it. Perhaps not. We will see."
"Very well." As the hand drew swiftly away, Megatron rejoined the crowd, allowing the triumph to show on his face at last.
You're mine, warrior.
- - - - -
Decades after their first meeting, and thousands of years before either of them was even created, Megatron and Dinobot faced each other again. "This is getting repetitious," Megatron told his former lieutenant in tones of annoyance, without letting down his guard -- Dinobot had murder in his optics and he could be damn quick when he wanted to. Their first round had left Megatron half-blind with a cracked optic and missing some teeth from his tyrannosaur-head arm, most of which were buried in Dinobot's left shoulder. Now they were circling, too close for Megatron to use his cannon effectively. Dinobot could still use his optic beams at this range, but Megatron knew he would prefer to take down his long-hated foe in close, personal combat. He'd be so much harder to defeat if he wasn't so predictable.
"I suppose I should be flattered that you're devoting all your attention to me, instead of helping your friends defend that tower they worked so hard to build," the tyrant said mockingly, playing his first card. It was always possible to play Dinobot, if one knew him well enough. Just a matter of which tactic would work this time.
Dinobot sneered in response. "Once you are destroyed, your followers can be dealt with quickly enough. Stop stalling and fight!" He lunged, thrusting his sword at Megatron's abdomen. The tyrant parried with his heavy tail-arm, falling back a step as his damaged hip protested the shift in weight.
"Ngh... Anxious for blood as ever." His right arm struck, siezing Dinobot's shield in its jaws and wrenching it away. He made a quick grab for the warrior's now-unprotected torso, but Dinobot jumped back, his swordtip leaving a shallow slash on the side of the tyrannosaur's muzzle.
Back to circling. Megatron kept talking, searching for a chink in the warrior's emotional armor or, better yet, a trigger that would send him into careless rage. "Clearly the Maximals aren't letting you satisfy your thirst for combat. You never should have left me, Dinobot. I always gave you what you needed."
Ah-ha! Dinobot twitched, almost went for it before he caught himself. Megatron smirked at his enraged expression.
"You betrayed me first," the raptor gritted out through clenched teeth. His sword spun, carving patterns into the air between them, symbolically slicing Megatron's arguments to bits.
"Don't be so dramatic. It was your foolish honor that led you to challenge me, and look where it got you."
"Look where it got me, indeed! I should thank you, Megatron. I might still be part of your mad scheme if you hadn't driven me out!"
Megatron rushed him this time, catching Dinobot just slightly off-guard. There was a flurry of strikes and parries as the raptor fended him off with sword alone, holding his own quite well even without a shield. Eventually, however, Megatron managed to catch Dinobot's left arm in his tyrannosaur jaws. His heavy tail-arm blocked Dinobot's blade for an instant, bringing them to a grapple.
"You will regret it soon enough, once I have Cybertron under my heel and your Maximal friends reduced to scrap! You may have lost sight of our goals, Dinobot, but I have not!"
"You couldn't even land on the right planet!" Dinobot spat in his face. He pressed with all his strength, baring down on Megatron's left arm, and felt the teeth in his own forearm sink deeper in response. Mech fluid began to drip into the grass.
"A minor inconvenience," the tyrant sneered. "We have a world full of energon and only a handful of untrained Maximals to stop us from taking it! If you hadn't gone and joined them, you short-sighted ingrate, this war would be over by now!"
Dinobot snarled, raised his sword, and brought it smashing down on Megatron's upraised arm. Again and again he struck until the tough pseudoflesh began to split, revealing gleaming circuitry. Megatron braced himself against the rain of blows without letting go of Dinobot's arm. Finally the sword embedded itself point-first in the tyrannosaur-tail shield, piercing clean through. Before Dinobot could pull it free, Megatron lashed out with his tail-arm, backhanding the warrior fiercely. Both Dinobot's sword and the battered tail segment went sailing out of reach.
With his opponent disarmed, Megatron went for the optics. His fist crashed into Dinobot's face, trying to shatter his lenses before the warrior decided to use his lasers after all. Around the third or fourth punch, Dinobot managed to grab his arm. His left leg swung up in a sharp kick to Megatron's bad hip. The joint finally buckled, dropping the Predacon commander to one knee.
Dinobot leaned over him as the two strained against each other, growling, their faces inches apart. Small energon discharges were beginning to dance like static over the combatants' armor. Neither seemed to care. Megatron was trying to reach for Dinobot's throat, Dinobot barely holding him at bay while knifelike teeth ground into his forearm. The air around the mechs shimmered with heat.
"I will end the war today," hissed the warrior through clenched teeth. His optics began to glow green.
Then a scream faintly pierced his audios. It came from the direction of the tower, somehow penetrating the symphony of gunfire and explosions. Dinobot's head jerked as if tugged by a magnet.
Vermin! he thought chaotically. For Primus' sake, not again--
The split second distraction was all that was needed. Megatron released Dinobot's badly-gnawed and now nearly useless arm and clamped his teeth on the warrior's face instead. Gripping him firmly, he lurched to his feet, ignoring Dinobot's good hand clawing at the armor of his chest and face.
"That would be Tarantulas," the tyrant remarked. "His timing couldn't be better. Nor could the results be more pleasing, I think." He squeezed, and heard a crack as a tooth punctured Dinobot's left optic. The roar of rage and pain that followed was muffled to a groan by the jaws imprisoning his head. "I had a hunch, yess. So gratifying of you to prove me right."
He swept his arm sideways, flinging the warrior to the ground. Dinobot hunched up on his knees and his one good hand, trying to rise. A kick knocked him sprawling and sent a sharp twinge of pain through Megatron's injured hip, which he considered a small price to pay for such satisfaction.
"What is it I've always told you, Dinobot? Any opponent can be defeated if you know his weakness." Megatron knelt and grabbed the warrior by the throat. "I know all of yours. Pride, predictability, stubborn adherence to that crippling code of honor..." He smiled at the hate he read in the one functioning optic. "And it seems I've found a new one. Oh, yesss."
Dinobot launched himself with a scream of rage. Megatron didn't quite jerk back fast enough, and felt teeth sink into his throat. For an instant he almost panicked. He clamped his fangs on Dinobot's head again, trying to pull him off while the warrior clung to him one-handed, claws digging into his back. He finally wrenched free, but not before those savage teeth tore open a fuel line. Mech fluid splattered them both as they reeled away from each other, Megatron falling onto his back, Dinobot staggering and going down on one knee.
Coughing, the warlord pushed himself upright. He saw Dinobot rise and shake himself, tensed to charge again. He lifted his right arm, jaws popping wide open.
"I don't think so." He fired.
The warrior dropped, his shoulder smoking. Megatron waited a moment, ready to fire again if need be. When Dinobot didn't get back up, the tyrant got to his feet -- not without difficulty -- and limped slowly towards him.
The raptor lay on his back, exposed circuitry crackling where the skin and armor plating of his right shoulder had been. He tried to sit up as Megatron approached, but he could no longer move his right arm at all, while the left was a mangled mess below the elbow. Mechblood still dripped from his fangs, bared in a snarl at his former commander. "Finish it!" he snapped, his voice deep and harsh. "Finish it, or so help me, I will not rest until I melt down the last scrap of your lifeless frame!" There was nothing theatrical in his speech now -- the words were screamed with the conviction of a blood oath.
Megatron gazed down at him, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Interesting. Once you would have laid down your life for me. Now you would rip out my Spark with your teeth if you could." He reached up to rub at his throat, coughing a little as the severed conduit continued to bleed. "Quite fascinating, how love can turn so quickly to hate... and vice versa. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I never lov--" And there Dinobot stopped, his optics widening. The full meaning of Megatron's words became apparent.
He knows. Even I wasn't sure, but he is. He knows.
"Tsk, tsk. You couldn't hide the truth to save your life, Dinobot. A less subtle creature I've never met. It's obvious to any functioning pair of optics when you've decided on something." He made a face. "Though the reasons why are a bit... harder to fathom."
He turned his back on the seething raptor, searching for something. "For whatever reason, you've claimed something as your own. A new challenge. A new target. A new weakness... Ah-ha." He found the object he sought, and stooped, carefully, to pick it up off the grass. "I'm almost disappointed in you, really. But I suppose I should thank you for making things so easy."
Megatron returned to his fallen opponent, holding Dinobot's sword in his left hand. Casually he poised it over the warrior's Spark chamber. "Hmm... tempting. I could end this now... but, I don't think I'm through with you just yet. Another time, when we can both savor the moment. I have more pressing concerns."
He started to turn away again, then turned back. "Of course, I wouldn't want you to interfere any further, so..." He raised the sword high and slammed it down point-first into Dinobot's abdomen. The warrior bit off a shriek as the cold steel went through his body. Megatron bore down until only the hilt protruded, the blade buried deep in soil, pinning Dinobot firmly where he'd fallen.
"That's for Inferno," the Predacon commander informed him.
Dinobot immediately began writhing, trying to rip the sword out of the ground. As tempting as it was to watch him lie there and struggle, Megatron really did have other business at hand. The Maximals' tower was still standing, which meant that his minions weren't having much luck. Typical. If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself.
"Don't worry," he told the raptor, "I'll make sure you don't miss the fireworks." He began limping his way toward the tower, leaving the warrior pinned by his own weapon, mocking words swirling in his processor.
(TBC!)
- - - - -
The arena was packed, the lights dim, the resolution on the screen poor. The floor underfoot was sticky with pools of oil and spent energon, and the din of the crowd nearly drowned out the roars of the combatants. It was, Megatron reflected, a rather poor excuse for entertainment. He had been to many such establishments, and found few of them particularly impressive.
But he wasn't here to be entertained, anyhow.
He muscled his way through the crowd, taking advantage of his comparative size and the intimidation factor of the large cannon strapped to his arm. Any mech that wouldn't give way was simply flung aside. There was much growling and swearing, but nobody cared to make an issue of it. Most spectators in a Pitfight were there to watch other mechs get ripped apart, not to risk it themselves. Megatron reached the center ring unchallenged.
He nearly had to jump back as a monster of a mech crashed to the floor in front of him. The fighter was leaking fluids from a dozen deep injuries, his jaw half-severed, wires and cabling exposed. A large sword jutted from his shoulder.
The victor let out an animalistic roar, then strode forward to make the kill. His face and arms were splashed with enemy fuel. He wasn't quite as tall as Megatron -- almost a head shorter, in fact -- but he carried himself in a manner few other Predacons could match. Red optics met Megatron's oh-so-briefly, then fixed on the defeated opponent, ignoring the rest of the crowd entirely. Long, agile hands wrapped around the handle of the sword and wrenched it free. The wounded mech groaned loudly but gave no other response.
He wouldn't have to suffer for much longer.
The warrior raised his blade, positioning it over his opponent's Core, steadying it with both hands. A crackle of energy traveled visibly down the handle as the blade began to spin, each segment rotating counter to the others at a dizzying speed. All around Megatron the crowd grew tense, waiting.
Without hesitation or error the warrior drove his sword down, piercing the mech's chest. There was a shower of sparks and a scream of metal on metal as the blade rapidly disappeared. The fallen fighter shuddered violently, almost bucking off the floor, then abruptly fell still. After the briefest of pauses, cheers went up from the crowd. An announcer's voice boomed something unintelligible over the shouts, unnecessarily announcing the winner.
Megatron never took his optics off the victorious fighter. The sword was buried almost to the hilt, and its owner had to brace both feet on the body to pull it free. Gleaming metal shed drops of energon as it slid from the wound. Several mechs standing nearby offered cleaning rags to the warrior, but Megatron was closest. The fighter took his without a word of thanks or even glancing up to acknowledge him, and began calmly wiping the blade.
It was plain that he took better care of his weapon than of himself. His armor was pitted, dented and scratched from what must have been decades of hard wear, and he sported at least three or four fresh wounds that he wasn't tending at all. He ignored the corpse of his fallen enemy, which was now being dragged into the crowd for dismantling. Such was the way of Cybertron's steel jungle -- when a mech no longer had need of his body, the parts and materials went to those who did. Life was hard in this sector, and there were always many in need.
Satisfied at last with the condition of his blade, the fighter slid it into a sheath on his back. Megatron held out his hand to retrieve the cloth which was now stained with mech fluid. After a brief hesitation, the warrior handed it over.
As their hands made contact, Megatron locked and held the other's gaze with his own, taking a step forward into his personal domain. The warrior visibly tensed, but didn't back down or break the stare. He glared back challengingly. "Was there something you wanted?" His voice was a harsh snarl, no friendlier in civil conversation than the sounds he uttered during combat.
"A few moments of your time, when you're through here. I have a proposition for you." Megatron offered his most disarming smile, but the warrior seemed unconvinced.
"I'm not seeking employment." He started to turn away, but Megatron made the bold move of grabbing his arm. Instantly the warrior's hand went to his sword handle, but he didn't draw just yet.
"What are you seeking, then?" Megatron insisted. "A warrior such as yourself in this unglorious place must be a warrior without purpose. A tragic waste. I could use your skill, as could Cybertron." He saw hesitant interest, and released the warrior's arm, no longer needing it to hold him. "When you've had your fill of blood sport, come and find me outside. I will outline my proposal if you wish to hear. Otherwise, if you're content with performing nightly for this jeering crowd of fools, simply decline and I will walk away."
There was no immediate answer. He hadn't expected one. To give a sense of urgency, he started to turn away, and smiled inwardly in triumph when a clawed hand landed -- lightly, almost tentatively, as though unaccustomed to initiating such contact -- on his shoulder.
"I have three more fights ahead of me tonight. If you are still waiting when the last opponent falls, I will listen to your offer. Perhaps accept it. Perhaps not. We will see."
"Very well." As the hand drew swiftly away, Megatron rejoined the crowd, allowing the triumph to show on his face at last.
You're mine, warrior.
- - - - -
Decades after their first meeting, and thousands of years before either of them was even created, Megatron and Dinobot faced each other again. "This is getting repetitious," Megatron told his former lieutenant in tones of annoyance, without letting down his guard -- Dinobot had murder in his optics and he could be damn quick when he wanted to. Their first round had left Megatron half-blind with a cracked optic and missing some teeth from his tyrannosaur-head arm, most of which were buried in Dinobot's left shoulder. Now they were circling, too close for Megatron to use his cannon effectively. Dinobot could still use his optic beams at this range, but Megatron knew he would prefer to take down his long-hated foe in close, personal combat. He'd be so much harder to defeat if he wasn't so predictable.
"I suppose I should be flattered that you're devoting all your attention to me, instead of helping your friends defend that tower they worked so hard to build," the tyrant said mockingly, playing his first card. It was always possible to play Dinobot, if one knew him well enough. Just a matter of which tactic would work this time.
Dinobot sneered in response. "Once you are destroyed, your followers can be dealt with quickly enough. Stop stalling and fight!" He lunged, thrusting his sword at Megatron's abdomen. The tyrant parried with his heavy tail-arm, falling back a step as his damaged hip protested the shift in weight.
"Ngh... Anxious for blood as ever." His right arm struck, siezing Dinobot's shield in its jaws and wrenching it away. He made a quick grab for the warrior's now-unprotected torso, but Dinobot jumped back, his swordtip leaving a shallow slash on the side of the tyrannosaur's muzzle.
Back to circling. Megatron kept talking, searching for a chink in the warrior's emotional armor or, better yet, a trigger that would send him into careless rage. "Clearly the Maximals aren't letting you satisfy your thirst for combat. You never should have left me, Dinobot. I always gave you what you needed."
Ah-ha! Dinobot twitched, almost went for it before he caught himself. Megatron smirked at his enraged expression.
"You betrayed me first," the raptor gritted out through clenched teeth. His sword spun, carving patterns into the air between them, symbolically slicing Megatron's arguments to bits.
"Don't be so dramatic. It was your foolish honor that led you to challenge me, and look where it got you."
"Look where it got me, indeed! I should thank you, Megatron. I might still be part of your mad scheme if you hadn't driven me out!"
Megatron rushed him this time, catching Dinobot just slightly off-guard. There was a flurry of strikes and parries as the raptor fended him off with sword alone, holding his own quite well even without a shield. Eventually, however, Megatron managed to catch Dinobot's left arm in his tyrannosaur jaws. His heavy tail-arm blocked Dinobot's blade for an instant, bringing them to a grapple.
"You will regret it soon enough, once I have Cybertron under my heel and your Maximal friends reduced to scrap! You may have lost sight of our goals, Dinobot, but I have not!"
"You couldn't even land on the right planet!" Dinobot spat in his face. He pressed with all his strength, baring down on Megatron's left arm, and felt the teeth in his own forearm sink deeper in response. Mech fluid began to drip into the grass.
"A minor inconvenience," the tyrant sneered. "We have a world full of energon and only a handful of untrained Maximals to stop us from taking it! If you hadn't gone and joined them, you short-sighted ingrate, this war would be over by now!"
Dinobot snarled, raised his sword, and brought it smashing down on Megatron's upraised arm. Again and again he struck until the tough pseudoflesh began to split, revealing gleaming circuitry. Megatron braced himself against the rain of blows without letting go of Dinobot's arm. Finally the sword embedded itself point-first in the tyrannosaur-tail shield, piercing clean through. Before Dinobot could pull it free, Megatron lashed out with his tail-arm, backhanding the warrior fiercely. Both Dinobot's sword and the battered tail segment went sailing out of reach.
With his opponent disarmed, Megatron went for the optics. His fist crashed into Dinobot's face, trying to shatter his lenses before the warrior decided to use his lasers after all. Around the third or fourth punch, Dinobot managed to grab his arm. His left leg swung up in a sharp kick to Megatron's bad hip. The joint finally buckled, dropping the Predacon commander to one knee.
Dinobot leaned over him as the two strained against each other, growling, their faces inches apart. Small energon discharges were beginning to dance like static over the combatants' armor. Neither seemed to care. Megatron was trying to reach for Dinobot's throat, Dinobot barely holding him at bay while knifelike teeth ground into his forearm. The air around the mechs shimmered with heat.
"I will end the war today," hissed the warrior through clenched teeth. His optics began to glow green.
Then a scream faintly pierced his audios. It came from the direction of the tower, somehow penetrating the symphony of gunfire and explosions. Dinobot's head jerked as if tugged by a magnet.
Vermin! he thought chaotically. For Primus' sake, not again--
The split second distraction was all that was needed. Megatron released Dinobot's badly-gnawed and now nearly useless arm and clamped his teeth on the warrior's face instead. Gripping him firmly, he lurched to his feet, ignoring Dinobot's good hand clawing at the armor of his chest and face.
"That would be Tarantulas," the tyrant remarked. "His timing couldn't be better. Nor could the results be more pleasing, I think." He squeezed, and heard a crack as a tooth punctured Dinobot's left optic. The roar of rage and pain that followed was muffled to a groan by the jaws imprisoning his head. "I had a hunch, yess. So gratifying of you to prove me right."
He swept his arm sideways, flinging the warrior to the ground. Dinobot hunched up on his knees and his one good hand, trying to rise. A kick knocked him sprawling and sent a sharp twinge of pain through Megatron's injured hip, which he considered a small price to pay for such satisfaction.
"What is it I've always told you, Dinobot? Any opponent can be defeated if you know his weakness." Megatron knelt and grabbed the warrior by the throat. "I know all of yours. Pride, predictability, stubborn adherence to that crippling code of honor..." He smiled at the hate he read in the one functioning optic. "And it seems I've found a new one. Oh, yesss."
Dinobot launched himself with a scream of rage. Megatron didn't quite jerk back fast enough, and felt teeth sink into his throat. For an instant he almost panicked. He clamped his fangs on Dinobot's head again, trying to pull him off while the warrior clung to him one-handed, claws digging into his back. He finally wrenched free, but not before those savage teeth tore open a fuel line. Mech fluid splattered them both as they reeled away from each other, Megatron falling onto his back, Dinobot staggering and going down on one knee.
Coughing, the warlord pushed himself upright. He saw Dinobot rise and shake himself, tensed to charge again. He lifted his right arm, jaws popping wide open.
"I don't think so." He fired.
The warrior dropped, his shoulder smoking. Megatron waited a moment, ready to fire again if need be. When Dinobot didn't get back up, the tyrant got to his feet -- not without difficulty -- and limped slowly towards him.
The raptor lay on his back, exposed circuitry crackling where the skin and armor plating of his right shoulder had been. He tried to sit up as Megatron approached, but he could no longer move his right arm at all, while the left was a mangled mess below the elbow. Mechblood still dripped from his fangs, bared in a snarl at his former commander. "Finish it!" he snapped, his voice deep and harsh. "Finish it, or so help me, I will not rest until I melt down the last scrap of your lifeless frame!" There was nothing theatrical in his speech now -- the words were screamed with the conviction of a blood oath.
Megatron gazed down at him, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Interesting. Once you would have laid down your life for me. Now you would rip out my Spark with your teeth if you could." He reached up to rub at his throat, coughing a little as the severed conduit continued to bleed. "Quite fascinating, how love can turn so quickly to hate... and vice versa. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I never lov--" And there Dinobot stopped, his optics widening. The full meaning of Megatron's words became apparent.
He knows. Even I wasn't sure, but he is. He knows.
"Tsk, tsk. You couldn't hide the truth to save your life, Dinobot. A less subtle creature I've never met. It's obvious to any functioning pair of optics when you've decided on something." He made a face. "Though the reasons why are a bit... harder to fathom."
He turned his back on the seething raptor, searching for something. "For whatever reason, you've claimed something as your own. A new challenge. A new target. A new weakness... Ah-ha." He found the object he sought, and stooped, carefully, to pick it up off the grass. "I'm almost disappointed in you, really. But I suppose I should thank you for making things so easy."
Megatron returned to his fallen opponent, holding Dinobot's sword in his left hand. Casually he poised it over the warrior's Spark chamber. "Hmm... tempting. I could end this now... but, I don't think I'm through with you just yet. Another time, when we can both savor the moment. I have more pressing concerns."
He started to turn away again, then turned back. "Of course, I wouldn't want you to interfere any further, so..." He raised the sword high and slammed it down point-first into Dinobot's abdomen. The warrior bit off a shriek as the cold steel went through his body. Megatron bore down until only the hilt protruded, the blade buried deep in soil, pinning Dinobot firmly where he'd fallen.
"That's for Inferno," the Predacon commander informed him.
Dinobot immediately began writhing, trying to rip the sword out of the ground. As tempting as it was to watch him lie there and struggle, Megatron really did have other business at hand. The Maximals' tower was still standing, which meant that his minions weren't having much luck. Typical. If you want something done, you've got to do it yourself.
"Don't worry," he told the raptor, "I'll make sure you don't miss the fireworks." He began limping his way toward the tower, leaving the warrior pinned by his own weapon, mocking words swirling in his processor.
(TBC!)