|
Base
022, the morning following the battle
“Oohhhh…
Aren’t they lovely?!”
Megatron
came back on-line with the feeling that he and Starscream were not alone
in the hangar. He used his scanner to trace the energy signature of the
intruder, which seemed vaguely familiar to him. ‘Ah, Slag this
dizziness scrambling my systems!’ he cursed inwardly.
“Don’t
waste your time scanning the hangar, brother. Mwaah!”
At
once, the warlord recognized the insane laugh of Galvatron, and felt
irritated at the idea that his insufferable sibling had surprised him in
this state of weakness, sharing some privacy with his paramour. Starscream
was still peacefully recharging, comfortably cradled in his arms.
“Stop
laughing, you’ll disturb his recharge!” he retorted, modulating his
voice frequency so that its level remained low but conveyed all his
irritation.
“It’s
about time to wake up, sleepy head! It’s already 7:00 AM! I promised
your troops a review at 8:00 AM, organised a meeting with the slagging
idiot of Ultra Magnus at 9:00 AM. If we are convincing, we pick up
Thanatron in his jail at around 10:00 AM and lift off for the base 0025
shortly after. The Atlantis is coming back to base 0025 with 2,500 energon
cubes. It’s a flight we shouldn’t miss.” Galvatron chuckled lightly;
“It’s not exactly a good time to sleep with your bird. You can give
him a ride again, tonight. Mwaaah!”
This
new obsequious remark didn’t offend Megatron; it actually amused him. In
a way, it reminded him of their young times, when they confided to each
other about their one-night stand adventures with lewd details during
their drunkard’s conversations.
“How
come this destroyed base has the means to provide 2,500 energon cubes?”
he asked,
“He,
he… Petrol is flowing in abundance from the depths of Earth. Stupidly,
the base doesn’t know how to protect itself, but is perfectly able to
resume drilling after an attack.”
“A
perfect lack of warfare strategy. It is so like Optimus Prime!”
Megatron
couldn’t help laughing at his own remark. Starscream stirred against
him, ready to come back online. He blamed himself for shortening his
sleep.
“Another
major piece of information; nobody else except you, Starscream and I know
that Thanatron is your son. Our “last conversation” hadn’t been
recorded. Besides, Thanatron, as the good brat of yours, has said nothing
to Ultra Magnus.”
“Who
asked you to gather information and organize all of this?” Megatron
asked, pretending to not understand.
The
reply caused Galvatron’s general hilarity.
“Oh,
stop this hypocrisy! That’s exactly what you were expecting from me. I
am sure that you spent your recharge time plotting how to take advantage
of this war and restore the supremacy of the Decepticons,” Galvatron
purred, extracting a data pad from subspace. “Besides, I guess that you
don’t have any choice but to entrust me the function of second in
command. Starscream is too unstable to fulfil this task, and I’m sure
you have the sweetest offer to make him, hum?”
Megatron
chuckled: Galvatron had hit the nail on the head. He had always known that
his brother was less stupid and crazy than he pretended. Besides, he knew
him very well.
“Let’s
admit that I have the intention to nominate you as my second in command…
I’m still only a simple civilian according to Optimus Prime.”
“Mwaah!
Since when have you taken care of the orders of this idiot?!” Galvatron
was literally
in stitches.
“I’m not worried about that. I know you will be able to stand your
ground.” He closed his datapad and put it back in place, in subspace.
“I’ll send you the coordinates of the troops review. Be on time!” he
warned as he headed to the exit.
“One
last thing, Galvatron!” Megatron heard the footsteps of his brother
stopping at the threshold. “Try to find a brand with the Decepticon
logo. I’ll need it for the troop reviews.”
“Mwaaah!
It’s already done!”
Galvatron
left the hangar, leaving Megatron and Starscream in complete silence. The
optics of the Seeker flashed a deep red more regularly as he definitely
awoke; his flickering gaze steadied on Megatron’s face, and he raised a
hand to brush gently the side of Megatron’s face.
“How…
did I get here?” he asked with a tremor in his voice. “I don’t
remember.”
“You
came to me and asked me questions about your father.”
Starscream
looked confused. “Why would have I ask you something about… him? He
hated me!” he stated in a tone showing he wasn’t comfortable with
speaking of this point.
“I
told you how much your father loved you.”
Pain
appeared in the expression of the Seeker as he ran a scan of this memory,
but found nothing but corrupted files.
“I
don’t remember. Please, tell me again,” Starscream murmured, trying to
not sob.
“Don’t
worry, I will tell you everything,” Megatron replied, kissing him
gently. He then caressed a dark cheek, forcing Starscream to look deep in
his optics. “But first of all, I have something important to ask you.”
One
hour later…
Skywarp
peeped nervously at the brazier that was burning with frightening howling.
Why had Cyclonus and Scourge lit this? Wasn’t this improvised meeting a
simple troop review? The purple Seeker didn’t know why, but there
was something wrong somewhere: knowing
Megatron, it looked as if this was meant to turn into something bigger.
“Decepticons…
Attention!” Galvatron barked.
All
the Decepticons stood to attention, like giant statues suddenly deprived
of life, red blazing optics fixed on the two figures that had shown up
next to the infernal brazier. Skywarp noticed immediately the radiating
expression of Starscream; he was smiling genuinely, his gaze worshiping
the bulky shape of Megatron.
“My
fellow Decepticons, it’s with an immense pride that I’m standing in
front of you!” The grating voice of Megatron caused the Decepticon
warriors to tense a little. “What we accomplished yesterday was a clear
warning to our enemies and so-called allies that the Decepticon army still
exists, and that they have to count with us in the power game that have
been played on this part of the universe!” he added as he walked to his
men.
Skywarp
was the first to bear the intensity of Megatron’s burning stare, forcing
himself to not lower his optics. Primus, their leader was so charismatic!
He had almost forgotten it with the successive crisis they had been
through. He was relieved when Megatron moved to stand in front of Octane,
whose energy field reflected the same trouble. Astrotrain, Blitzwing and
Dirge reacted the same way, unlike Scourge and Cyclonus, certainly well
trained with the demonstrations of dominance from Galvatron. Finally,
Megatron stopped in front of Soundwave, examining him from head to
thrusters. The former Communication Officer showed no more reaction than a
deactivated mech.
“Soundwave,
we’ll have a meeting as soon as we’re back to the base 0025. Before
this, I have a mission for you,” Megatron stated. “We’re departing
shortly for the base 0025 on board of the Atlantis with a cargo of 2500
energon cubes, and a prisoner of prime importance: the general Thanatron.
I want you to diffuse on a channel open to the Empire of Salonia a
message.”
“Yes,
Megatron.”
“I
want you to broadcast this, to the letter and in Cybertronian language:
“From Megatron to Darkracer: your son is in my grasp. Try to attack our
ship, and Thanatron will be executed on the spot. I know who he is, but
you know how I work.” Send it as many times as you need, but I want an
acknowledgement of reception from the Salonians.”
Megatron
looked so much like the devil tyrant he used to be that it sent small
tingles of excitement through Skywarp’s neural network. Their leader was
definitely back to his old self, with the improvement that he had managed
to win over Starscream. The colourful Seeker was definitely covering
Megatron with an enamoured look in the optics.
“At
your command, mighty Megatron!”
The
warlord outlined a satisfied smile, followed by a devilish chuckle as he
returned to the brazier. Galvatron was working on something stuck in the
fire, which he finally extracted through the hell-bound flames. The optics
of Skywarp narrowed as he identified the object; a brand, forming the
Decepticon logo, so close to melting that it was red like an Autobot
insignia.
“My
fellow Decepticons, it’s time for us to show to the others – Autobots,
Humans or Salonians – that we have our own identity, code of honour and
way of life. This victorious battle is the occasion to remind them that we
exist, different and stronger than the other Cybertronians, ready to face
the menace of the Salonian Empire with brute force and imaginative
tactics, more deadly efficient than Optimus Prime has ever plotted.”
At
this stage, Skywarp had to admit that Magatron was an excellent speaker,
but this was not enough to make him forget the threat of the brand. He had
an idea of how it would be used, but preferred not to imagine it.
“And
it comes first by the reinstatement of the Decepticon insignia on our
frames!!!!”
Skywarp
couldn’t suppress a shudder that shook his frame. Fortunately for him,
he wasn’t alone in reacting the same. A burst of anguish flared from the
individual energy fields, stating the same worry: it was going to hurt. In
the past, the Decepticon insignia was painted on the plating not engraved.
“I
understand your reluctance. I don’t hide this is going to be extremely
painful, but it won’t be useless; it will show to the face of the
universe how far we can go when we believe in a cause!”
Skywarp’s
throat went dry, as his energon had fled away from this part of his
anatomy. ‘Yes, escaping away… I’d like to do same,’ he
reflected, not daring to change his posture.
More
majestic and frightening than ever, Megatron beckoned theatrically to
Galvatron to approach him with the brand. His brother stopped in front of
him, their chests almost touching.
“I
want the insignia on my wings,” Megatron ordered in an icy voice.
His
brother smirked in return.
“And
you shall have it!” he groaned.
The
burning tip of the brand was immediately pressed against the white metal
of the Decepticon leader. Megatron clenched his fist and failed to
suppress a pained groan as his dermaplating melted down. After a few
seconds, Galvatron withdrew the instrument of torture and affixed it on
the middle of the second wing. This time, Megatron had to lean against his
brother to find a support. His optics off lined a few nanoclicks, giving a
taste to the onlookers of the intensity of the pain that overwhelmed him.
“I
hope you enjoyed!”
Galvatron
pushed back his brother without brutality. His gesture was rather gentle
and moderate in regards to his usual behaviour of grumpy brute. Megatron
looked back at him, the red of his optics reflecting some confusion, which
quickly vanished. His agenda was certainly clear again in his mind, and it
wasn’t the burn on his wings that could stop him. Skywarp bit his lip
components as he realized how much his leader was determined and would
leave them no possibility to refuse this sacrifice. For sure, this was
going to hurt, a lot.
Beside
the brazier, Starscream, still smiling like an idiot, reached the two
brothers and snatched the brand away from Galvatron’s hands.
“My
lord, I was too stunned earlier to give you a clear reply. I think this is
the opportunity to give it,” the radiant Seeker purred, loudly enough to
allow the onlookers to hear it. He then handed the brand to Megatron.
“Mark me… on the wings. I want to belong to the Decepticons, and
especially to you, forever!” he stated, tilting his head back to stare
at the optics of the taller mech.
Skywarp
cursed inwardly his wing mate for being so seductive towards the
Decepticon leader. In a usual situation, it would have amused him to no
end, and he would have spread hot gossips within the ranks of the
Decepticon army. But the prospects about what would happen to his own
wings didn’t suit him at all. Starscream was just to plunge all winged
Decepticons into a dark misery by not ranting against this “initiatory
ceremony”.
‘Slag
you, Screamer! Can’t you become the treacherous little brat you used to
be, just for a few seconds!?’
Unfortunately,
Megatron was under the charm, his red optics radiating more powerfully
than the flames or the red-hot brand. His energy field flared equally
strong, finding an echo as Starscream replied the same way. At this point,
Skywarp understood why his wing mate looked so “lovey-dovey”. Megatron
didn’t consider him just as a berth mate, but wanted him as his partner
in life. He had proposed Starcream, a bond; the answer was obviously
positive.
“Starscream,
I’m glad that you made your decision. I’m going to give you what you
are claiming,” Megatron replied, hiding very badly, his emotion.
One
ebony hand snatched around the thin waist of Starscream, pulling him
close. The Seeker smiled happily and rested against the broad chest,
making himself as comfortable as if he were on a romantic date. Megatron
seemed to hesitate a little, until his face regained his resolute
expression. The brand fell on an immaculate white wing, right in the
middle, dark coils rising as metal and job paint melted. Starscream moaned
in pain, knees buckling, and was caught just in time before collapsing in
a heap. His future bond mate supported his weight, murmuring words of
comfort and love so inaudibly that Skywarp’s keen audios hardly caught
them. The other wing met the same fate, tearing a loud complain from
Starscream, who however fought valiantly the physical pain and stood still
against Megatron’s bulky frame.
‘Oh,
that’s not good at all!’ Skywarp
was starting to panic, his CPU racing to find arguments to avoid such a
savage marking of his wings.
All
the other Decepticons watched the couple, mouths gaping open, as they felt
deep in their cores that they were witnessing a turning in the Decepticon
history. Galvatron was the first to recover from the shock; he grabbed
Megatron’s wrist and pulled away the brand, which he finally grabbed in
his hands.
“My
turn!” he harshly declared and then chuckled insanely. He walked to the
brazier and quenched the brand in the hungry flames, which devoured it
with a roar. He waited less than a minute to remove the tool and raised it
to optic range, observing the incandescent tip with a morbid fascination.
“Galvatron?”
Megatron
glared at his brother, obviously not enjoying the maddened expression that
blossomed on his sibling’s faceplate. Starscream was still the willing
prisoner of his embrace, red optics glowing a deeper red than usual.
“I
need no help to do it!”
Galvatron
applied the burning tool against the metal of his chest without even
flinching, ignoring blatantly the dark smoke that rose from the melted
area. He extracted the brand with a triumphal smirk and held it haughtily,
tip pointed at Skywarp.
‘No
no no, not my wings!’
Skywarp
briefly studied the various loopholes, which all ended on the same
scenario: him being shot down by Megatron or Starscream if he refused to
be marked. Or by both of them, with the assistance of Galvatron.
His wings quivered nervously as the tip of the brand clearly designated
him as the next sheep to be marked.
“My
dear Decepticons, it is clearly time show your allegiance to your new
leader!” Galvatron stated.
‘No
no no, don’t say my name! Don’t-’
Skywarp’s
silent pleas ended when his gaze met Galvatron’s burning optics, which
were covering him with a predatory interest.
“Skywarp!
You’re next!”
The
knees of the Seeker buckled as if he had been sentenced to death.
“Sir…
can you not do it on the wings, please?” he asked with little voice,
unsure of the reaction of the three high officers.
Galvatron
chuckled mischievously.
“Why?
You’d prefer being marked on the aft?” he asked on a libidinous tone.
“Right moon or left moon?”
‘Of
course not!’
Skywarp sighed and lowered his face; really, it was going to hurt.
‘TC,
believe me. You’re lucky being with nurse Skyfire!’
An
hour later
Ultra
Magnus knew who was standing on the other side of the front door of his
quarters; four war machines came to retrieve his prisoner at any cost. He
had watched through the surveillance network the Decepticons pledging
their oath to Megatron, self-proclaimed leader of the Decepticons. Optimus
Prime was aware of this show of power orchestrated by his old foe and was
forming a plan to contain this new threat once Megatron was back to base
0025. Ultra Magnus didn’t envy his elder brother’s position; the
victory of the previous day legitimated the rise of Megatron to the rank
of Base Commander.
“Magnus!”
The raspy voice of Galvatron echoes from the other side of the door.
“Open this slagging door. We need to talk!”
“Polite
and refined as ever!” Ultra Magnus reluctantly unlocks the door and
glares at his four visitors. “Please, proceed. I don’t have a long
time to consecrate you.”
“That
won’t be long!” Megatron enters the office first, followed by
Galvatron and Starscream. Cyclonus brought up the rear. “I guess you
already know what the purpose of my visit is,” the tall silver-white
Transformer purred.
Ultra
Magnus knitted his optic-ridge as he stared at the Decepticon’s symbol
engraved in the middle of Megatron’s broad wings. Starscream and
Cyclonus displayed the same dark insignia, moulded on the metal of their
appendages, while Galvatron was marked on the chest.
“You
don’t have the right to wear this symbol,” he retorted coldly.
“Since
when has it been forbidden to wear a sign on the paint job?” Megatron
chuckled lightly. “I didn’t know that you and Optimus Prime had become
totalitarian leaders,” he scoffed.
“I’d
suggest you avoid that kind of jokes,” Ultra Magnus warned. “Let me
remind you that the old factions have been abolished and it’s forbidden
to wear an Autobot or a Decepticon symbol. Besides-”
“I
haven’t come here to discuss that point.” Megatron waved aside the
idea with a disdainful grin. “I am here to claim Thanatron, to escort
him back to the base 0025.”
“There
is a prerequisite to this: you must swear that you will hand him over to
Optimus Prime!”
Megatron
reached his chest with a hand, pretending to look offended by the unspoken
accusation of Ultra Magnus.
“Of
course, I will hand this criminal to Prime. He’s the base Supreme
Commander, while I am just a civilian, willing to help!” he assured
reassuringly.
Ultra
Magnus recognized perfectly those fake intonations of sincerity and
modesty in Megatron’s vocal frequency. How many times had the Decepticon
leader tried to fool his brother or himself by proposing a truce, hiding a
tortuous scheming to backstab them at the first occasion? He could guess
from those suave inflections that Megatron was plotting, certainly not in
favour of Optimus.
“Perfect.
Thanatron is under custody at the block 738. I will inform the guards of
your venue.” He finally replied, hiding his reluctance. “Additionally,
I’ll ask Springer and Arcee to escort you to base 0025, as a support.”
This
last statement produced the desired effect; Megatron’s optics flashed in
annoyance, sign that he didn’t want any Autobot interfering in his
business. He was definitely up to some trick.
“We’d
like to collect Thanatron as quick as possible,” Megatron continued with
his treacherous voice.
“You
will, within less than an hour.”
Ultra
Magnus gestured towards the door, informing silently his guests that the
meeting was over. It was clear for him that Megatron was lying about his
true intentions, and pursuing this conversation would be a simple loss of
time. The Decepticon leader bowed politely his head and gestured for his
followers to leave. Once the four had exited the place and the door was
closed, the owner of the office reopened the laptop in front of him,
unveiling the face of Optimus Prime.
“You’ve
heard him, Optimus. Megatron is preparing something. Maybe a coup!”
Base
0025, Optimus Prime’s office
“I
don’t think so, Magnus. Yesterday’s victory legitimates his access to
the rank of Base Commander, but I don’t think he’s stupid enough to
try a coup against me. He knows that the Cybertronian coalition is too
weak to fight the Empire of Salonia.” Optimus Prime paused, his fingers
typing nervously on the console in front of him. He wanted to convince his
brother that such a threat wasn’t to be feared, but wasn’t completely
trusting his own words.
“Optimus?”
“Even
if the Decepticons have pledged an oath to their former leader, they are
still a handful of warriors, not as well organized as they used to be.
Megatron is not suicidal; his first priority is to usurp my power. He
wants Thanatron to get the information of the Salonian Empire’s defence
system first, and take advantage of them to be named supreme commander of
the resistance force. I must prevent this before it happens.”
“I
hope you’re right, Optimus, and that he won’t attack you today.”
Ultra
Magnus closed the connection, leaving Optimus Prime deep in his thoughts.
He hadn’t shared the bottom of his thoughts with his brother; awkwardly,
watching Megatron reorganizing his army and coming back in the foreground
wasn’t frightening for him.
‘I
must’ve become crazy.’
He
had fought during twenty-years to organize the resistance and push back
the enemy, in vain. The shuttles of the Empire of Salonia still blockaded
Earth, ruling the sky from the stratosphere of the planet. There were few
places on the destroyed Earth where the survivors could rebuild their
cities without fearing the attacks of the Stalkers.
‘In
another hand, I can’t continue like this.’
He
hadn’t been completely alone since the beginning of the crisis;
Shockwave and Prowl were excellent counsellors, and most of the
Cybertronians supported his actions. But deep inside him, he felt helpless
and powerless, needing the support of a charismatic figure that would
force him to continue fighting ahead. It killed him to admit it, but
Megatron was the right Transformer. After millions of years of war with
the Decepticon leader, Optimus Prime knew perfectly his qualities and
flaws; Megatron might be cruel and amoral, he was also extremely
intelligent, relentless and resourceful. A centrepiece of the
counterattack against the Empire of Salonia.
“Optimus!
It’s Prowl! I have a red code warning coming from the abandoned area.
It’s coming from the patrol in charge of hunting down the Insecticons.”
The
optics of the Prime narrowed to a slit as the panicked voice of his
tacticians announced that the sky would remain dark for that day.
“Prowl,
I’m listening. What is it about?”
“It’s
a message from the Insecticons that they had routed to us. I’m afraid it
doesn’t augur well,” Prowl quickly informed.
Optimus
Prime lowered his face, as if the burden of this information already
weighed on his shoulders.
“Let
me listen to the message.”
Base 0022,
outside Ultra Magnus office
“I
don’t think Magnus swallowed your story,” Galvatron sniggered.
“No
he didn’t.” Megatron shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “As long
as he doesn’t impede the retrieving of Thanatron, I don’t care for his
petty considerations.”
“Prime
might confront you at your arrival on base 0025.”
“Oh,
I hope he will.” Megatron smirked, his face showing a savage excitement.
“It’s time to remind him what I’m made off,” he gloated.
“What
we are made off, you mean!” Galvatron corrected.
Megatron,
feeling the underneath reproach in the voice of his brother, immediately
turned around to face him. “Of course; what the Decepticons are made
off,” he assured, giving him a typical male shove. He then peeped at his
Seeker, noticing the trouble reflected on his energy field. “Stasrcream,
you have to go back to the Atlantis and make sure that our troops are
ready to embark and the energon cubes already in cargo,” he ordered.
The
face of the Seeker moulded into a grimace, sign of a potential tantrum. It
comforted Megatron that the idea he had made to ensure his unexpected son
stayed well out of reach of his future bond mate, and vice versa.
“But
I want to go with you to retrieve this slagging bastard!” Starscream
finally shrieked indignantly.
“Do
you remember what I told you this morning? We need to be united and work
together,” Megatron replied calmly, walking to his promised one. He
reached the dark face with a hand, caressing tenderly the sizzled
faceplate as to sooth the pain and anger lying beneath. “Love, do as I
say. I understand your feelings and your wish for revenge, but I can’t
let you kill Thanatron. He knows so much; he’s a major asset to destroy
the Empire of Salonia,” he stated.
“I-
I know.” Starscream lowered his gaze, sobbing. “You’re sending me
away not because you love him more than you love me, aren’t you?” he
added, looking like a spoiled sparkling.
“Of
course not!” Megatron lowered his face to kiss him. “You know you are
the one counting the most in my life.”
“Hum!”
Galvatron cleared his throat noisily, obviously annoyed by the intimate
way the situation was developing. “Cyclonus, you go with Starscream and
help him for the preparations.” He ordered, beckoning his trusty
lieutenant to take away the Seeker.
“Hey!”
Starscream protested lightly when the purple con seized his wrist and
pushed him back, away from the caresses of his leader. “Take your hands
off me!” he protested, throwing a desperate look to Megatron.
Cyclonus
ignored his pleas and dragged him away. The Decepticon leader waited,
until the two lieutenants were out-of-sight, to resume his walk, Galvatron
on his heels.
“It
seems like Starscream took rather well the fact that I am your new second
in command,” Galvatron cooed.
“I’d
rather say that he took my bonding offer, well. He still finds you
insufferable and vulgar.”
“Mwaah!
I hope so! What about Thanatron?”
The
question drew a sigh from Megatron’s vocalizer.
“It
needs loads more work to be done on it!”
Base
0022, penitentiary sector, block 738
Red
optics flashed angrily when Megatron entered the cell. He replied with
equal intensity to the glare, although there was no anger in his optics,
just curiosity. He immediately ran a scan of Thanatron’s form, but found
no signs of assaults other than the wounds inflicted by himself or by
Starscream. The Autobots had the advantage that they never tortured their
prisoners.
“Get
out!” Thanatron roared, pushing on his restraints that kept his arms and
legs welded to the large chair he had been sat onto. “I don’t want to
see you!” He then looked at the corner opposite to the door. “Tell him
to get out of here. I don’t want to see him again!” he barked.
Megatron
noticed that there had been an onlooker hidden to his sight when the green
triple changer stepped forward. ‘Argh, Springer!’
“He’s
come to retrieve you, and take you back to base 0025. You will have to put
up with this.” The Autobot quickly informed in an icy voice.
The
news sent Thanatron into complete fury and he pulled on his restraints
like possessed. The doubts of Megatron about his ability to free himself
fell when the heavy chains started to creek and break.
“Stand
well back!” Megatron warned to the two onlookers, preparing for the
fight.
“I’m
going to kill you!”
Thanatron
rose from his chair, throwing the remains of the chains through the cell.
His radiant optics illuminated his face distorted by anger, darting at the
prey he wanted to slaughter. He was on Megatron in less than a blink of
the eyes, fist tightened ready for the kill. Megatron had however no pain
to overpower this opponent bereft of judgement; he blocked the punch with
a disconcerting easiness, his free hand aiming at a wound on the
general’s flank. Rapacious hand dug in the bared circuit plates,
inflicting a so deep pain that Thanatron pushed a howl and collapsed
against the one he tried to murder.
“Stop
this at once!” Megatron growled, reversing their position to pin his son
against the wall.
One
hand still scraped the exposed circuits on Thanatron’s flank while the
other squeezed his throat. Overcome with pain and humiliation, Thanatron
stopped struggling and looked aside, not willing to sustain the intense
stare of his father.
“Now,
you calm down!” the Decepticon leader growled in the audios of the
rebellious mech. He then felt some agitation in his back. “He’s under
control. Leave us alone!” he barked at Galvatron and Springer.
“But-”
“Okay.
How long do you need?” asked Galvatron.
Megatron
didn’t look back, but according to the protests of the Autobot, he
understood his brother was dragging Springer out of the cell.
“Enough
time. Now, get out and close the door!”
A
metallic cracking echoed his command, leaving the father and his son alone
in the feebly lighted cell, whose silence was punctuated by the raging
roar of their engines.
“Switch
to your comm. channel,” Megatron ordered. “I don’t want anybody
catching our conversation.”
“Go
and slag yourself!”
Megatron
had managed to keep his calm, but the stubbornness of this brat was
starting to piss him off.
“SWITCH
TO YOUR COMM. LINK! NOW!”
O
Thanatron
stared at him, dumbfounded by the strange light that he saw in his
creator’s optics. There was no hate; irritation and… care? Fatherly
care? No, it couldn’t be. Megatron was a good actor, a liar endowed
with speech; he was gifted to delude others with fine words and promises
of attentions, hiding his cold spark and unfitness for caring for
somebody. ‘Bar this slagging bitch of Starscream!’
(What
do you want?)
he replied, cursing himself for yielding to his father’s request.
(First
of all; your mother never informed me of your existence. What did
Darkracer tell you about the incident at the melting pit?)
(Don’t
you remember, monster? My mother begged you not to kill her, but you
didn’t listen! You pushed her into the magma of the pit. She had her
life saved only thanks to a friend, who waited until you and your
disgusting brother left!) Thanatron
replied with anger.
(She
lied. Galvatron and I unmasked her as the plotter who was trying to take
over the Decepticon faction. She didn’t deny it and tried to shoot us in
a last attempt to overthrow us. We threw her in the pit, granted, but she
never pretended nesting a spark!)
Thanatron
stared in shock at his creator, confusion quickly replaced by rage.
(You
dare pretend she lied to me!)
(Darkracer
had lied to Galvatron, many others and myself. Why not to you as well?)
Megatron retorted, optics flashing dangerously. (How do you explain she
had never encouraged you to contact me, and instead, had exacerbated your
desire for revenge?)
(She…
She was afraid you’d kill me…)
the general stammered. He had, countless times, asked himself this
question, without finding a satisfying answer.
(Or
maybe because it suited her plans that you blindly hated me?)
(You’re…
lying… as usual.)
Thanatron shook his head as if to expel the words of Megatron from his
CPU. His creator was terribly persuasive, he knew it. He mustn’t fall in
his trap and take his lies. (Leave me alone; I’m not listening to you
anymore!)
He
looked aside to show he ignored the paternal presence but Megatron grabbed
his chin and forced him to stare at his optics.
(The
conversation about this point is not over. The priority today is to
organize your retrieval and keep you under my care.)
Thanatron looked blankly at Megatron, failing to process what he meant. (In
case you don’t get it, you’re accused of major crimes against the
Cybertronian race. Prime might be an Autobot, but regarding the
seriousness of the suspicions hanging over you, it’s highly predictable
he’s going to torture you to get information about the Salonian Empire
and then claim your head.) Megatron paused, reaching his son’s
cheek, patting it affectionately. (I want to you avoid this fate).
Thanatron
snatched away the hand that outrageously brushed his faceplate. How
dare he?!
(Don’t
pretend you care for me! I transformed your life into hell, destroyed our
planet! I don’t need your pity or fake affection!)
he cried in despair mixed with anger. (I hate you, and I’m sure you
hate me!)
Megatron
cupped the face of his son in his both hands. Their foreheads met and
their optics burnt in each others radiance.
(You
want the truth? I don’t hate you, but I don’t care for you, not yet.
However, I believe we can get along together for the simple reason you are
the son of your father. Like it or not, you are exactly like me:
manipulator, relentless, brutal but also resourceful and pragmatic. A
powerful wolf among a pack of enraged wolves, destined to rule. It’s a
fact you are perfectly aware of, deep in your spark.) Once
again, ebony hand reached his cheek. This time, he didn’t try to push it
aside. (I can give you the answers your mother always failed to give.)
The
Salonian general couldn’t reply, fascinated by the glow in Megatron’s
optics and taken aback by the closeness with his creator.
(Now
listen. You will follow me to base 0025 and attempt nothing to escape. You
will speak only to me or to Galvatron, and above all, don’t mention you
are my son until I reveal it to the key people. I’ll keep you safe from
Optimus Prime’s sentence to death or any attempts for murder.)
Thanatron
watched his father with disbelief and confusion, trying to decrypt a sign
of insincerity in his composure or his energy field. He found none and
finally nodded in acceptance, almost shocked to feel reassured by his
words and presence.
Megatron
outlined a smirk and stepped back, allowing his son to get some personal
space. He glanced at the door and yelled: “Galvatron! Get ready to move
to the Atlantis!”
To
be continued…
Chapter 26
/ Chapter 28
|
