At himself, at Optimus, at the situation, that he'd miscalculated as badly as he had. Distantly, his tactical programs spat out what he'd already realised, partly why he'd been pleased; no matter how they ended up dealing with this in the end, had he still been free, heading his rebellion out there instead of in here, this would have been a golden opportunity.
Sure, he hadn't intended the possibility of starving the part of the population he'd wanted change for, but at the same time... he could of course have used that. If society couldn't handle it, he'd (have scooped up) scoop up the ones who fell through the cracks, proof he was right.
"And do I somehow have a reason to listen to you, Prime?" Megatron growled right back, the elbow of the arm holding him up landing back on the couch instead of being in the air as Optimus shoved him. "You've been decent so far, but decency isn't proof that I can or should trust you!" His other hand rising instinctively, drawing back, Megatron didn't pause as he snapped it forward and closed it about Optimus' throat, yanking him forward, livid red optics colouring his white plating pink.
He'd almost punched the mech. Punched with intent to do as much harm as possible, and it wasn't the tingling warnings from the consort-convict programming that had made him change course.
"I don't believe you have what it takes... to be my minder ormy Prime." The dark, mocking smirk bloomed slowly over his faceplates, and he squeezed, relishing the feel of Optimus' throat beneath his hand.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2012-10-02 07:51 pm (UTC)At himself, at Optimus, at the situation, that he'd miscalculated as badly as he had. Distantly, his tactical programs spat out what he'd already realised, partly why he'd been pleased; no matter how they ended up dealing with this in the end, had he still been free, heading his rebellion out there instead of in here, this would have been a golden opportunity.
Sure, he hadn't intended the possibility of starving the part of the population he'd wanted change for, but at the same time... he could of course have used that. If society couldn't handle it, he'd (have scooped up) scoop up the ones who fell through the cracks, proof he was right.
"And do I somehow have a reason to listen to you, Prime?" Megatron growled right back, the elbow of the arm holding him up landing back on the couch instead of being in the air as Optimus shoved him. "You've been decent so far, but decency isn't proof that I can or should trust you!" His other hand rising instinctively, drawing back, Megatron didn't pause as he snapped it forward and closed it about Optimus' throat, yanking him forward, livid red optics colouring his white plating pink.
He'd almost punched the mech. Punched with intent to do as much harm as possible, and it wasn't the tingling warnings from the consort-convict programming that had made him change course.
"I don't believe you have what it takes... to be my minder or my Prime." The dark, mocking smirk bloomed slowly over his faceplates, and he squeezed, relishing the feel of Optimus' throat beneath his hand.
"Perhaps it's time you prove yourself."
Submit?
Hardly. Not yet, anyway.
They'd fight, or Join.