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Sep. 7th, 2012 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lordmegatron posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
red_diode_districtTemporarily withdrawing from the battlefield and retiring into the temporary base, Megatron surveyed their progress over the running report Soundwave was supplying. The Autobots had, predictably, upped their efforts as he left, assuming that he was up to something... ah, "nefarious" if he was leaving the battlefield.
Smirking as he stalked down the corridor and distractedly rubbed a hand over hot metal, he thought about how correct they were. Though not where they thought they were. Since anything "nefarious" wasn't going on at this battlefield, in this bunker.
Oh no, that was half a world away, underneath Kalis and the energon refineries.
Such a pity.
The door to the room he'd claimed as his for the duration slid closed behind him, belying its rusted, makeshift look. The bunker was old, a leftover, and the only thing they had done when they took it over was moving in weapons and new equipment and furniture as needed.
Sitting down in one of those aformentioned new pieces furniture, Megatron disconnected all three of his cannons and slumped back. Still couldn't quite relax. The heat from the battle was still coursing through him, causing cables to stay tense, energon to continually be rerouted and charge to skitter down circuits and be held in preparation.
Megatron loathed to abort a battle. It was not, precisely, the only thing he lived for, but he was finely tuned, used to finishing what he started, may it be a task, a gladiator match, a battle...
With a grunt, he stroked the metal over his chestplates again, following the uneven surfaces and the rims of the sparklights...
Well.
There was more than one way to finish something...
::Lord Megatron? We have a stray Autobot. Interrogate or execute?::
Black hand frozen right over the dimming glow of his largest sparklight as the sequence to open his sparkchamber was initiated, Megatron scowled, glaring at the pitted floor. He was not in the mood---
The other hand, previously having rested on the armrest of the overblown "chair", relaxed from the fist it had turned into.
::Bring him in. It'd be a waste of opportunity and I am currently otherwise unoccupied.:: So to speak, really, because this still didn't stop him from sitting back again and allowing the opening sequence to run its course.
He'd waste less time and make use of his tension by simply questioning the mech either during, or after.
Smirking as he stalked down the corridor and distractedly rubbed a hand over hot metal, he thought about how correct they were. Though not where they thought they were. Since anything "nefarious" wasn't going on at this battlefield, in this bunker.
Oh no, that was half a world away, underneath Kalis and the energon refineries.
Such a pity.
The door to the room he'd claimed as his for the duration slid closed behind him, belying its rusted, makeshift look. The bunker was old, a leftover, and the only thing they had done when they took it over was moving in weapons and new equipment and furniture as needed.
Sitting down in one of those aformentioned new pieces furniture, Megatron disconnected all three of his cannons and slumped back. Still couldn't quite relax. The heat from the battle was still coursing through him, causing cables to stay tense, energon to continually be rerouted and charge to skitter down circuits and be held in preparation.
Megatron loathed to abort a battle. It was not, precisely, the only thing he lived for, but he was finely tuned, used to finishing what he started, may it be a task, a gladiator match, a battle...
With a grunt, he stroked the metal over his chestplates again, following the uneven surfaces and the rims of the sparklights...
Well.
There was more than one way to finish something...
::Lord Megatron? We have a stray Autobot. Interrogate or execute?::
Black hand frozen right over the dimming glow of his largest sparklight as the sequence to open his sparkchamber was initiated, Megatron scowled, glaring at the pitted floor. He was not in the mood---
The other hand, previously having rested on the armrest of the overblown "chair", relaxed from the fist it had turned into.
::Bring him in. It'd be a waste of opportunity and I am currently otherwise unoccupied.:: So to speak, really, because this still didn't stop him from sitting back again and allowing the opening sequence to run its course.
He'd waste less time and make use of his tension by simply questioning the mech either during, or after.