red_diode_district | (no subject)

Temporarily 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The unexpected recovery was enough to make the archivist jump in his chains, despite the injuries. He had barely even begun to relax and calm himself from whatever unwilling heat had begun to build...

When Megatron made to close the distance, Orion jerked back- or tried to at least, knees sliding forward across the floor with the sudden force.

"-What?!" Optics gone wide, he flicked his helm to the side, dislodging the finger as panic blossomed, sharp and staticky in his spark.

Despite the futility, he strained at the bonds, their glow brightening as the energon only got stronger with the exertion, while his thin armor creaked in protest.

"I can tell when someone's getting worked up, so do yourself a favour and don't act surprised." There was a threatening rumble underlying Megatron's words, but he didn't exactly snap. He was still relaxed enough the percieved coyness wasn't lethally annoying.

And besides, he could certainly appreciate what little strength the mech could put into fighting the chains, glancing down to note the colour and intensity of the chains as Orion strained backwards.

Engine thrumming softly, Megatron didn't bother with catching Orion's chin again and rather curled one hand around an upper arm, smallest finger resting against the partly bared elbow joint and subtly pressing it inwards.

The other hand, the one which had offended by tilting Orion's chin back was spread over the prisoner's chestplates, too-hot and even vibrating slightly. Though from Megatron's expression one couldn't guess he'd done anything to enhance the touch on the less-armoured frame, his narrowed stare nearly blank.

Underneath that, however, and threathening to surface, was both amusement and a predatory urge to make sure he got what he wanted. Right now, what he wanted had nothing to do with death or pain in particular.

Orion jerked against the heavy grasp of the huge hand, startled and repulsed by the heady jolt that shot through his arm at the touch to his unarmored joint.

No.

"I'll- be surprised if I damn well please- get off of me!"

The touch over his chest, over his spark, tellingly warm from the 'show' - that brought out true fear. He couldn't lean back any further, but that didn't stop him from trying anyway, optics opened to their widest aperture in sick fear. He shook himself, distantly aware he'd sooner do more damage to the floor and himself than shake the war-mech's touch away if he didn't want to be moved.

That was certainly true, and Megatron wasn't going to be moved at the moment. The hand on Orion's arm tightened suddenly, a lot less gentle than previously. Though the finger against the joint remained surprisingly light on the joint even as the rest threatened to crush thinner metal.

"Stay still!" Snapping, Megatron shifted to lean closer not needing to change his position since he was - even when kneeling - taller than the relatively short Autobot.

"We can do this several ways, Autobot, and you wouldn't like the other possibilities." He paused, bent over Orion, their faces close enough it was like a mockery of a near-kiss. "All of them would include you leaving here alive and functional, however." The index finger splayed over Orion's chest drew a slow, caressing half-circle. The motion was probably threatening in context, but there was sincere promise in what Megatron was saying.