It all started innocuously enough. He had heard Orion speaking of Megatron, a miner from Tarn with big ideas and noteworthy passion. Curious, Glitch had gone, alone, to hear him speak. It was a decision that would set him on a different path. From that moment of he was hooked; enchanted by every word that Megatron spoke.
Before long, Glitch found himself attending every one of Megatron’s speeches, even going so far as to sneak away from Orion and the others in favor of making it on time. He knew it was dangerous to stray from the team, especially with how intently they were being hunted. Glitch could be killed, or worse, followed. It was bad enough that they had gotten Shockwave… he isn’t sure if he could live with himself if something happened to one of them due to his own negligence.
Lingering in back at first Glitch listened, straining to see over the shoulders of taller mechs, before finding the courage to slowly creep his way to the front of the crowd. Front and center, he stares up at his new hero in awe, hanging on every word. He nearly jumps when he catches Megatron’s eye. Expecting for his gaze to move on, he finds himself giddy with excitement when he holds it.
As the rally begins to disperse, he’s eager to blend into the crowd for a safer get away from anyone who may think to follow him. That is, until he sees Megatron walking in his direction, eyes locked on him. He can only freeze helplessly in his tracks, staring up at him with his bright blue optic. He’s at a loss for words for a few moments before he forces himself to say something
“That was wonderful. I— Y-you’re truly inspiring!”
He wants to cringe at how he stumbles over his words. Empurata eats any expression that would have been.
The young gladiator is crisscrossed with battle damage and red war paint from Kaon's fighting rings. While Orion had met him long ago, Megatron's rhetoric had began to turn more violent. He had virtually disappeared by the time he was sent to Messatine, ideas kept alive only by a slow trickle of writing and an unquenched rebellious fervor.
By the time he returned and began to emerge in Kaon's underground, Megatron of Tarn was a changed Cybertronian. He was quiet, save for when he addressed the crowd post-match, but a heavy presence that was easily felt either way. A tight coil of barely contained rage that had laced every word towards the evils of the Senate. A bare echo of the soft-spoken miner that had written so eloquently about pacifist change.
He had risen from the dirt, slaughtered his former master Clench, and was motioning to seize rule of the entire underground infrastructure. His influence was growing, and it was beginning to attract the eyes of Sentinel Prime's Autobot Security Forces. Megatron knew revolution was coming, and he knew he had to assemble an army the likes of which Cybertron had never seen. The more Sentinel and the Senate squeezed, the easier recruitment would be.
And he was very much interested in a former student of the recently mutilated Senator Shockwave.
He can't believe that Megatron would want to know his name. Glitch's spark flares wildly in his chassis. His optic lingers on war paint and battle torn plating. It seems so much more vibrant when he's standing this close, demanding his attention.
"People call me Glitch."
It wasn't necessarily his favorite name, but he's come to accept it. The taunt behind it doesn't burn him nearly as much as it once did. Still, he can't help but feel a pang of embarrassment the moment the name is said. Why would Megatron ever want something to do with some poor sap named Glitch; someone who is better at breaking things than building them?
The small Cybertronian's phrasing doesn't go over Megatron. The way he shrinks slightly at saying the moniker that was clearly inflicted on him by another. Megatron sees an easy opportunity in luring him in.
"That is not what I asked. I am interested in your name, not what others decide to call you."
"Damus," he repeats, in that grandiose voice that had stirred a massive crowd to a red-hot furor just moments before. He ignores the latter part of Damus' statement, it was clear enough the mech was unhappy with the nickname thrust upon him. So for all intents and purposes here, it did not exist.
"I have heard of you before, Damus. You and I have much to discuss - in private."
A large hand - slick with the energon and grime of a thousand battles - guides him to a darker corner of the rally stage. His encouragement was a rather assertive order that could have easily come off as far more threatening, but the energy from Megatron was magnetic. He seemed eager to learn more of this new Decepticon-to-be.
The corner would give way to the jagged jaws of a torn up industrial tunnel, foul smelling chemical fluids and steam still seeping weakly down the center of the floor. Decepticon rallies were in every dark nook and cranny of Kaon out of necessity, and so each location came with it's own set of idiosyncrasies.
The crowd was thinned to almost nothing, bar a few of what Damus might recognize as close allies of the insurgent next to him. For all intents and purposes, it would be them and them alone.
Glitch freezes, letting Megatron guide him. His legs feel like lead as he forces them to move him along. Has he really heard of him before?
"You-- You have?"
the world closes in on them. Glitch hardly notices anything expect Megatron standing before him, totally and utterly enraptured. The hand on his shoulder sends fire straight to his spark.
Damus didn't need a face to show he was hypnotized by Megatron's invitation. The Decepticon feels it in the Cybertronian's sheepish movements.
"The destruction of the Academy is known even down here," he raises his arms to gesture to the industrial pit around them,"and only a fool believes the excuses presented afterwards."
It also helped that Megatron had other means of finding information on events like these. Of course, he wouldn't mention this.
"It was a tragic and cruel punishment, but what else would one expect of a Senate opposed to your very existence."
Glitch misses Shockwave. Orion is fine, but his mentor could never be replaced. Shockwave was the first person to ever see value in him. The Academy was his home.
His optic dims as he hangs his head for a moment. a flame of anger flickers to life inside him.
"They wanted to scare us into silence, but we will make them suffer. They will regret what they've done to us."
There was a monumental buildup to that exact moment. Standing under the shadow of Megatron’s holo statue in a field of spark blue flowers, staring down his wayward leader. He knew what must be done, painful as it was to admit. Megatron has betrayed him and there was only one solution— or so he thought.
Megatron’s surrender was something of a surprise. He expected a raging battle, but got only the quiet of Megatron’s proposal. His life in exchange for the Autobots— How very noble. Surely it must be a trick, waiting for Tarn to lower his guard. He had considered it for a few moments before accepting, the opportunity too great to pass up. Taking mag cuffs out of his subspace, he restrains Megatron’s outstretched hands, calling for his troops to return to the peaceful tyranny. There would be no battle tonight.
The trip back to Tarn’s ship is in heavy silence as the DJD commander guides his mentor with a strong hand. He keeps his sullenness as the board the ship and even as he shoves Megatron into an empty cell in the brig. Staring for a few wordless moments through the bars, Tarn leaves.
He doesn’t return for several days, taking time to make a decision on what Megatron’s fate will be.
“Megatron.” He slips a cube of mid grade energon into the cell. “Lets have a talk."
Ravage likely hadn't meant for Megatron to actually go and meet Tarn when the cybercat had handed over the phone. However, Megatron couldn't see any other way. There is always a bit of a niggling fear that Tarn might not keep his word. It wouldn't be the first time that the DJD hasn't upheld a promise. Yet, the tank had held out on hope anyway. Offering himself for the others... It is the least that he could do for them. They had made him almost comfortable on the ship. He had actual friends and individuals that had seen him as he is, not the tyrant that he had been.
True to his half of the deal, Megatron hadn't fought back. Yes, the feel of those restrains on his wrist had caused the panic in his spark to rise... He just has better control of it than that. It's with silence, but his head held high that he follows Tarn back to the ship.
It's not his first go behind bars either. In fact, it's almost a welcome relief. Megatron doesn't really do much in those days. He thinks. Reflects. Though he doesn't even consider the possibility of escaping. That would make the deal he had brokered pointless. Likely Tarn is thinking about what to do with him. It's no surprise to Megatron. What does someone like Tarn, who had practically worshiped the tank's every word, do with his mentor and idol suddenly being a traitor to the "Cause" and has no plans to return to it?
Megatron originally doesn't look up as Tarn finally sees fit to come to the cell. The cube is there, but he doesn't touch it. "Finally decided, have you?"
"Perhaps." Tarn's voice is like velvet, heavy and deep as the regards Megatron in the cell. "Drink, we have much to discuss and I won't have you distracted because you're low on fuel."
he nods to the energon. watching and waiting expectantly.
"I could kill you. In fact, I should kill you. But, deep down, I still have hope for you. That you will return to us. That you will realize that there is still so much more for you to do." He produces his own cube, sipping at it. "Tell me, are my hopes empty? Do you truly think the past three million years a waste? All the lives lost?"
"I'm surprised you haven't and yes... You probably should," Megatron counters, eyeing Tarn warily.
He doesn't take the cub until Tarn has a drink. Megatron hardly trusts him at the moment, especially given the extremes that the DJD had went to in order to obtain the tank. Megatron isn't sure he can predict what the other is going to do. He takes a careful sip, frowning.
"Do not hope I will return. I am done with violence," he answers coolly. "While I don't regret removing the Senate from power, I do believe all of the lives lost afterwards to be a waste. How can I not? The crew was prepared to rewrite history, leaving me to die and the Functionists to rise to power, in order to spare the rest of the galaxy."
He will keep this conversation going, just long enough for Megatron to finish his energon before Tarn will make his proposal. He hopes that the strong aphrodisiac that he dosed it with will be enough to earn his agreement.
He coaxes Megatron along by taking another sip of his own, slipping a straw between the plates of his mask.
"You would align yourself with mechs willing to throw our race to another functionalist controlled bureaucracy simply because they were petty and bitter? Truly? Are you that broken?" He knows That Megatron will remain steadfast to his decision, but Tarn is determined to needle him and attempt to poke holes in his logic
"Not because they were petty and bitter," Megatron argues. "Because they felt so strongly about our kind wiping out billions of non-Cybertronian lives that they'd rather themselves suffer and allow the rest of the galaxy to flourish. The only reason I am here is because one individual was petty and bitter enough at the Functionists to not allow it to happen."
Which had done a lot to cripple Megatron's confidence in his choices. If the people he had wanted to free from the corrupt Senate would rather be shackled than allow their war to spread... What right has he to stop them? Megatron hadn't even tried to convince them otherwise.
He grumbles, taking another sip from the energon. It's different, yes, but perhaps that's because Tarn has odd tastes himself.
"I align myself with those that think I can change."
"Non-cybertronians? Why should we care about the organics? They would destroy us if we had not set out to destroy them first! The Black Block Consortia...The Galactic Council... They all want us wiped from the universe." Tarn can't help but lose his temper. Such nonsense. "Even before the war broke out they hated us."
"Change is one thing, but taking on the enemies brand? Denouncing the Decepticons? That's treason to the utmost degree, Megatron." By now his energon is almost gone. "Was it not worth the effort to rework?"
"It wasn't really the Autobots that defeated us in the end... It was the humans of Earth. I care little for organics, but humans are," Megatron pauses, looking for what he wants to say. "I have some respect for them. They are as adaptable as we are."
His dislike for organic races hasn't changed, even though he's helped save some. The tank swirls the energon around before taking a few more drinks from it. Honestly, he had expected some level of starvation in attempt to make him more malleable. That's what he would have done back in the day.
"I thought about reworking the Decepticons," he admits. "However the damage has been done. I've created too many monsters and have generated too much hate for much of anyone to want to change."
Tarn considered Starvation, but he thought a little chemical help might be more beneficial in the end. He smiles behind his mask as Megatron sips away.
"The humans.He scoffs disbelievingly." He'd never been sent to the battle front on earth, but he'd heard plenty of tales. "It wasn't the humans. It was you. You gave up."
He tucks his empty cube away, pacing closer to the bars. He's sure that Megatron has had enough of the aphrodisiac for it to really count. "So you won't reconsider. Fine. The Decepticons don't need you to lead them."
He folds his hands in front of him, holding his head high. He's anxious, but he hardly looks it. He appears the calm assertiveness of a competent leader.
You gave up... Megatron full on laughs. No, no it hadn't been that. Unsure of what to do, yes. The ex-warlord hadn't known at the time how to proceed and that is why everyone lingered on Earth for as long as they had. "I spent the following year or so being repaired. No, I hadn't given up until I watched someone die. His death stirred in me something long forgotten and that's when I gave up on the idea that the Decepticons could change."
Now Megatron slides his own empty cube away. He isn't surprised by Tarn's speech, not in the least. The tank's taken note of the increase in his frame's temperature, and subtly shifts. He decides to keep an eye on it, in case of any thing else abnormal. Something isn't quite right, but Megatron can't place what.
"Taking a page from Starscream now, are we? And here I had thought better of you."
"From Starscream. Oh no, you see I was more than happy to have you lead, until you decided to disgrace our cause. Think what you like of me, but I think a bit of reconditioning is in order."
Tarn's optics rake over Megatron's frame. He knows that he should be feeling the beginnings of the drugs effects by now. The uncomfortable heat, the sensitivity of his frame... Tarn can hardly wait.
"Do you recall how you trained me all those years ago?"
"I am not disgracing the 'cause.' My desires have not changed, only what I am willing and unwilling to do to get there," Megatron frowns, optics narrowing.
He doesn't like that term. Reconditioning. The tank only narrows his optics further at Tarn's question, figuring the two are somehow related. Tarn is going to have a hard time to get Megatron to resort to violence once more. He'll take the blows but not give them in return. There's no way that Tarn is going to be able to break him through that sort of exercise.
The other tank is right about one thing. Megatron's frame is warmer and it is getting uncomfortable. His gaze falls back to the energon cube. Something had been put it in. Something that could get passed his filtration systems. Megatron is still determined to not show that something is effecting him, even if his optics have dimmed somewhat.
Tarn isn't concerned on enticing violence. He has something much more decadent planned.
"Just a bit of chemical encouragement. You'll be feeling it's effects shortly."
He wave's off Megatron's concern, coming right up to the bars, wrapping his claws around the cool ununtrium.
"Don't you remember? Our lengthy training sessions. Pinning me down, punishing me when I failed to properly defend myself. Humiliating me as I loved every moment of it."
Running a claw tip down the length of the bar he looks at Megatron with distinctly predatory optics.
"You see, Megatron. If you don't want to fight anymore, I will accept that, but I will find a use for you yet."
Chemical encouragement... If his frame hadn't been running so hot, his lines would have turned cold at the mere thought. All this time, Megatron has tried to stay away from such substances. He likes to be in full control of his mental faculties. Anything that could hinder that isn't worth any potential benefit.
His face remains impassive, even with his very spark feeling out of place. Again he subtly shifts, taking in Tarn's words. It dawns on him then what the leader of the DJD intends to do. For a moment, he sees red. How dare he!
"I see. Can't coerce me of your own accord so you must resort to this method," he sneers.
"I simply thought that you may need a little help. You'd take far to long to warm up, and I know how stubborn you can be..."
Finally, he dares to enter the cell, locking the door behind him. He circles Megatron, taking in ever angle of his frame, but keeping his distance. Tarn could have never dreamed of having Megatron to himself. He's going to take his time enjoying this.
"I can feel the heat rolling off of your frame from here. It will become difficult to ignore soon. Your frame will become oversensitive to even the slightest touch."
"You can. It would be so easy. Just the slightest thrust and you'll get relief."
He remains in position, waiting patiently. He won't ruin this for himself. Not when he's so close. He can tell by how roughly Megatron is gripping him. His plating might even buckle if he squeezes any harder.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Destroy Me
Before long, Glitch found himself attending every one of Megatron’s speeches, even going so far as to sneak away from Orion and the others in favor of making it on time. He knew it was dangerous to stray from the team, especially with how intently they were being hunted. Glitch could be killed, or worse, followed. It was bad enough that they had gotten Shockwave… he isn’t sure if he could live with himself if something happened to one of them due to his own negligence.
Lingering in back at first Glitch listened, straining to see over the shoulders of taller mechs, before finding the courage to slowly creep his way to the front of the crowd. Front and center, he stares up at his new hero in awe, hanging on every word. He nearly jumps when he catches Megatron’s eye. Expecting for his gaze to move on, he finds himself giddy with excitement when he holds it.
As the rally begins to disperse, he’s eager to blend into the crowd for a safer get away from anyone who may think to follow him. That is, until he sees Megatron walking in his direction, eyes locked on him. He can only freeze helplessly in his tracks, staring up at him with his bright blue optic. He’s at a loss for words for a few moments before he forces himself to say something
“That was wonderful. I— Y-you’re truly inspiring!”
He wants to cringe at how he stumbles over his words. Empurata eats any expression that would have been.
git
By the time he returned and began to emerge in Kaon's underground, Megatron of Tarn was a changed Cybertronian. He was quiet, save for when he addressed the crowd post-match, but a heavy presence that was easily felt either way. A tight coil of barely contained rage that had laced every word towards the evils of the Senate. A bare echo of the soft-spoken miner that had written so eloquently about pacifist change.
He had risen from the dirt, slaughtered his former master Clench, and was motioning to seize rule of the entire underground infrastructure. His influence was growing, and it was beginning to attract the eyes of Sentinel Prime's Autobot Security Forces. Megatron knew revolution was coming, and he knew he had to assemble an army the likes of which Cybertron had never seen. The more Sentinel and the Senate squeezed, the easier recruitment would be.
And he was very much interested in a former student of the recently mutilated Senator Shockwave.
"-You. What is your name?"
no subject
"People call me Glitch."
It wasn't necessarily his favorite name, but he's come to accept it. The taunt behind it doesn't burn him nearly as much as it once did. Still, he can't help but feel a pang of embarrassment the moment the name is said. Why would Megatron ever want something to do with some poor sap named Glitch; someone who is better at breaking things than building them?
no subject
"That is not what I asked. I am interested in your name, not what others decide to call you."
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Though, he has to admit, he appreciates the respect that Megatron is showing him. It only makes Glitch think more highly of him.
is three months too late
"I have heard of you before, Damus. You and I have much to discuss - in private."
A large hand - slick with the energon and grime of a thousand battles - guides him to a darker corner of the rally stage. His encouragement was a rather assertive order that could have easily come off as far more threatening, but the energy from Megatron was magnetic. He seemed eager to learn more of this new Decepticon-to-be.
The corner would give way to the jagged jaws of a torn up industrial tunnel, foul smelling chemical fluids and steam still seeping weakly down the center of the floor. Decepticon rallies were in every dark nook and cranny of Kaon out of necessity, and so each location came with it's own set of idiosyncrasies.
The crowd was thinned to almost nothing, bar a few of what Damus might recognize as close allies of the insurgent next to him. For all intents and purposes, it would be them and them alone.
i will wait forever
"You-- You have?"
the world closes in on them. Glitch hardly notices anything expect Megatron standing before him, totally and utterly enraptured. The hand on his shoulder sends fire straight to his spark.
no subject
"The destruction of the Academy is known even down here," he raises his arms to gesture to the industrial pit around them,"and only a fool believes the excuses presented afterwards."
It also helped that Megatron had other means of finding information on events like these. Of course, he wouldn't mention this.
"It was a tragic and cruel punishment, but what else would one expect of a Senate opposed to your very existence."
no subject
His optic dims as he hangs his head for a moment. a flame of anger flickers to life inside him.
"They wanted to scare us into silence, but we will make them suffer. They will regret what they've done to us."
For Sad Dad
Megatron’s surrender was something of a surprise. He expected a raging battle, but got only the quiet of Megatron’s proposal. His life in exchange for the Autobots— How very noble. Surely it must be a trick, waiting for Tarn to lower his guard. He had considered it for a few moments before accepting, the opportunity too great to pass up. Taking mag cuffs out of his subspace, he restrains Megatron’s outstretched hands, calling for his troops to return to the peaceful tyranny. There would be no battle tonight.
The trip back to Tarn’s ship is in heavy silence as the DJD commander guides his mentor with a strong hand. He keeps his sullenness as the board the ship and even as he shoves Megatron into an empty cell in the brig. Staring for a few wordless moments through the bars, Tarn leaves.
He doesn’t return for several days, taking time to make a decision on what Megatron’s fate will be.
“Megatron.” He slips a cube of mid grade energon into the cell. “Lets have a talk."
well then
True to his half of the deal, Megatron hadn't fought back. Yes, the feel of those restrains on his wrist had caused the panic in his spark to rise... He just has better control of it than that. It's with silence, but his head held high that he follows Tarn back to the ship.
It's not his first go behind bars either. In fact, it's almost a welcome relief. Megatron doesn't really do much in those days. He thinks. Reflects. Though he doesn't even consider the possibility of escaping. That would make the deal he had brokered pointless. Likely Tarn is thinking about what to do with him. It's no surprise to Megatron. What does someone like Tarn, who had practically worshiped the tank's every word, do with his mentor and idol suddenly being a traitor to the "Cause" and has no plans to return to it?
Megatron originally doesn't look up as Tarn finally sees fit to come to the cell. The cube is there, but he doesn't touch it. "Finally decided, have you?"
no subject
he nods to the energon. watching and waiting expectantly.
"I could kill you. In fact, I should kill you. But, deep down, I still have hope for you. That you will return to us. That you will realize that there is still so much more for you to do." He produces his own cube, sipping at it. "Tell me, are my hopes empty? Do you truly think the past three million years a waste? All the lives lost?"
no subject
He doesn't take the cub until Tarn has a drink. Megatron hardly trusts him at the moment, especially given the extremes that the DJD had went to in order to obtain the tank. Megatron isn't sure he can predict what the other is going to do. He takes a careful sip, frowning.
"Do not hope I will return. I am done with violence," he answers coolly. "While I don't regret removing the Senate from power, I do believe all of the lives lost afterwards to be a waste. How can I not? The crew was prepared to rewrite history, leaving me to die and the Functionists to rise to power, in order to spare the rest of the galaxy."
no subject
He coaxes Megatron along by taking another sip of his own, slipping a straw between the plates of his mask.
"You would align yourself with mechs willing to throw our race to another functionalist controlled bureaucracy simply because they were petty and bitter? Truly? Are you that broken?" He knows That Megatron will remain steadfast to his decision, but Tarn is determined to needle him and attempt to poke holes in his logic
no subject
Which had done a lot to cripple Megatron's confidence in his choices. If the people he had wanted to free from the corrupt Senate would rather be shackled than allow their war to spread... What right has he to stop them? Megatron hadn't even tried to convince them otherwise.
He grumbles, taking another sip from the energon. It's different, yes, but perhaps that's because Tarn has odd tastes himself.
"I align myself with those that think I can change."
no subject
"Change is one thing, but taking on the enemies brand? Denouncing the Decepticons? That's treason to the utmost degree, Megatron." By now his energon is almost gone. "Was it not worth the effort to rework?"
no subject
His dislike for organic races hasn't changed, even though he's helped save some. The tank swirls the energon around before taking a few more drinks from it. Honestly, he had expected some level of starvation in attempt to make him more malleable. That's what he would have done back in the day.
"I thought about reworking the Decepticons," he admits. "However the damage has been done. I've created too many monsters and have generated too much hate for much of anyone to want to change."
no subject
"The humans.He scoffs disbelievingly." He'd never been sent to the battle front on earth, but he'd heard plenty of tales. "It wasn't the humans. It was you. You gave up."
He tucks his empty cube away, pacing closer to the bars. He's sure that Megatron has had enough of the aphrodisiac for it to really count. "So you won't reconsider. Fine. The Decepticons don't need you to lead them."
He folds his hands in front of him, holding his head high. He's anxious, but he hardly looks it. He appears the calm assertiveness of a competent leader.
I will lead and you will serve me."
no subject
Now Megatron slides his own empty cube away. He isn't surprised by Tarn's speech, not in the least. The tank's taken note of the increase in his frame's temperature, and subtly shifts. He decides to keep an eye on it, in case of any thing else abnormal. Something isn't quite right, but Megatron can't place what.
"Taking a page from Starscream now, are we? And here I had thought better of you."
no subject
"From Starscream. Oh no, you see I was more than happy to have you lead, until you decided to disgrace our cause. Think what you like of me, but I think a bit of reconditioning is in order."
Tarn's optics rake over Megatron's frame. He knows that he should be feeling the beginnings of the drugs effects by now. The uncomfortable heat, the sensitivity of his frame... Tarn can hardly wait.
"Do you recall how you trained me all those years ago?"
no subject
He doesn't like that term. Reconditioning. The tank only narrows his optics further at Tarn's question, figuring the two are somehow related. Tarn is going to have a hard time to get Megatron to resort to violence once more. He'll take the blows but not give them in return. There's no way that Tarn is going to be able to break him through that sort of exercise.
The other tank is right about one thing. Megatron's frame is warmer and it is getting uncomfortable. His gaze falls back to the energon cube. Something had been put it in. Something that could get passed his filtration systems. Megatron is still determined to not show that something is effecting him, even if his optics have dimmed somewhat.
"What did you do."
no subject
"Just a bit of chemical encouragement. You'll be feeling it's effects shortly."
He wave's off Megatron's concern, coming right up to the bars, wrapping his claws around the cool ununtrium.
"Don't you remember? Our lengthy training sessions. Pinning me down, punishing me when I failed to properly defend myself. Humiliating me as I loved every moment of it."
Running a claw tip down the length of the bar he looks at Megatron with distinctly predatory optics.
"You see, Megatron. If you don't want to fight anymore, I will accept that, but I will find a use for you yet."
no subject
His face remains impassive, even with his very spark feeling out of place. Again he subtly shifts, taking in Tarn's words. It dawns on him then what the leader of the DJD intends to do. For a moment, he sees red. How dare he!
"I see. Can't coerce me of your own accord so you must resort to this method," he sneers.
no subject
"I simply thought that you may need a little help. You'd take far to long to warm up, and I know how stubborn you can be..."
Finally, he dares to enter the cell, locking the door behind him. He circles Megatron, taking in ever angle of his frame, but keeping his distance. Tarn could have never dreamed of having Megatron to himself. He's going to take his time enjoying this.
"I can feel the heat rolling off of your frame from here. It will become difficult to ignore soon. Your frame will become oversensitive to even the slightest touch."
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omg i thought i tagged this already
u trash
:')
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He remains in position, waiting patiently. He won't ruin this for himself. Not when he's so close. He can tell by how roughly Megatron is gripping him. His plating might even buckle if he squeezes any harder.
"Do it, my lord."