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."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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."
no subject
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."