Ep0 - Nemesis - 'This Gets Ugly' - Closed
Nov 13, 2011 14:00:13 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 13, 2011 14:00:13 GMT -5
((Megatron, Sniper and Soundwave))
Megatron did not wait for the doors to finish opening to throw Sniper through, his claws slick with energon from where he’d been dragging the smaller mech through the corridors of the Nemesis. He did, however, wait for the doors to slam and seal shut behind him before speaking, standing against the opposite wall with narrowed optics and his voice a snarl.
Soundwave slipped in behind his Lord, narrowly avoiding the doors as they shut. Though his own indignation ran deep, he kept back from the other two mechs, moving into an inconspicuous position in a shadowy corner next to the door to simply watch the proceedings. This was an offence against him as well, but Megatron held first rights to vengeance. The dark mech was perfectly capable of amusing himself on whatever scraps his master left behind for him.
He did as he always did--kept silent and watched.
“You *dare* spy on me on my own ship?”
He had screwed up, big time. This was the only thought that kept pulsing through his mind, setting a slowly building panic into his spark chamber. His nicely gleaming, green paint job had now suffered its first battle damage in years - even without a battle. There was none to be had, as Megatron towered over him in rank, build an strength. Sniper was tiny compared to him, especially now, when he was being humiliated on so many different levels.
The spy grunted as he was thrown on the floor. He tried to crawl up immediately, but only ended up balancing the weight of his upper body on his elbows. The red optics looked up towards the Decepticon Lord - towards the angry expression in his eyes which didn't promise much mercy to the spy. Sniper's cool was cracking, but he tried to keep it on his faceplate, still.
"My lord," he said eventually, climbing to his knees, servos still on the floor. "You are surrounded by scavengers and opportunists. Rest assured, I'm simply pointing them out for you," he was reaching for a proper excuse, but at this point, there was none. Knowing this, he began to plan his escape, before Megatron could actually kill him. He slowly gathered his feet against the floor. And judging by the leader's fierce expression, the spy would have to be very fast.
Megatron barked a laugh at that, coming like a blast into the room as his optics flashed in charged, malicious delight. “You liken yourself to a particularly poor parasite as a tactic to beseech my mercy? You’re more pathetic than I thought. I can only congratulate you for surviving this long.”
Sniper lunged to avoid his hand a fraction of a second too late, his claw-like thumb catching across the smaller mech’s midsection and tearing at the mesh. A trivial wound - too shallow to be left. Closing his hand around the thin armour plate of Sniper’s hip, Megatron lifted him bodily and pressed him into the wall. His other hand punched into the already weeping abdominal plating in a pointed fist, tearing through to his protoform with ease. Growling against the resounding shout, Megatron opened his hand to gore the cavity wider and snapped his hand back and out.
Dropping the suddenly-limp body, Megatron took a step back to watch the pool of energon and coolant spread. His slicked thumb played across his claw tips, now dripping purple and flecked with shreds of protoform and armour shards. “You were not watching my datastreams, my consoles - you were watching your Lord. Why?”
Sniper grunted as he was forced against a wall, his back plating scratching against the dead metal. And for a moment, his red optics were forced to meet with Megatron's, whose gaze sung a series of malicious tunes. He felt a scratch being placed in his midsection, his faceplate giving a half panicked grimace, before, in a single moment, his expression was wiped clean. Pain. The spy's mouth cracked open, the red of his optics widening in shock. He felt his whole system around Megatron's grip tensing up, twitching, as the larger mech twisted his claws away from his mid section, leaving a nasty hole behind.
’Oh Primus, and in the name of everything that was holy.’ Sniper collapsed back on to floor the very second the Decepticon leader let go of him. The spy's shivering claws snapped to the open wound, as though it was going to help. His optics stared right across the floor, wearing an expression of shock, his whole body curling around the wound. It was beginning to soak the floor with weakly glowing purple.
"M-my lord-!" shot out of his vocalizer. The usually calm and collected voice wore shades of panic, as he tried to crawl onto his knees. "I simply-," he tried to hold the wound tighter. "-your well-being has been discussed on board the ship a lot of lately. And I-," Sniper grunted and hissed, trying to dismiss all the error messages that kept occurring in herds. "-I was trying to ... put the rumors to rest." Not entirely untrue. But still, not the truth - not by a long shot.
“Touching,” Megatron sneered, optics flashing even as they narrowed. He gripped both of Sniper’s doorwings in one fist to suspend him again, unaffected by the pained shout that came from the suddenly-straightened body. Slamming the slender mech back against the bulkhead, harder than before, he took a fistful of cabling and neural wires from the tattered edge of the grotesque wound and simply pulled them out. “But as you can see, any rumours about my health have been greatly exaggerated.”
The claws of Sniper's free hand attempted to dig into the floor panels as he felt a strong grip dragging his door panels. Yet, it only resulted in a broken whine and a sad screech of metal. The quick movement made the wound spew out more energon, staining the polished lime green with weakly glowing purple. He bit his dentals together when his tiny form was forced back between the Decepticon lord and the wall, attempting to keep the pained cries hidden from Megatron's hearing sensors. However, when the bigger mech started ripping his neural wires apart, one horrifying shriek erupted from his speakers, trailed by twitching of his limbs and a series of low, pathetic groans.
Sniper had seen his share of battles in this war, as he was not exactly a youngling anymore, but never had he been subject to such excruciating pain before. He cringed, his pain receptors working overcapacity. And behind all the warnings and errors his system kept spewing at him, the spy begun to realize that these moments could possibly be the last ones he would ever see. This thought set a panicked flare into his spark chamber, and even a hint of despair would show in the red of his optics, which weren't focused on Megatron at the moment.
But the glimpse was soon hidden, as the spy frowned, his dentals still bit together - partly out of pain, partly out of spite. If these were to be his last moments, which was a likely scenario, he wouldn't take all his secrets with him. Maybe the most important ones, but not the ones he had always wished to speak. He coughed weakly, a stream of energon dripping to his chin. The red optics were only narrow slits, but their expression carried all the spite in the world. Groveling was useless now.
"For now … at least," he struggled to say, his true feelings and intentions finally peeking from between the lies. "But I am not the only one who has lost belief in your cause," Sniper grunted, his claws twitching. "You should know that I … did not work alone. Your troops are filled with more treachery than you can even begin to understand."
Megatron pushed the mech higher up the wall, dragging his back and doorwings up the metal hard enough to scrape away the mesh. Fixing him there with one hand, the other scraped hard down Sniper’s body to his right thigh and then lower to engulf his knee joint. The actual act of pressing the claw of his forefinger into the gaps in the back of that joint was slow, savouring the neural lines and stabilising struts and pressure sensors, and energon feeds and everything else that felt and hurt even before had even reached the skeletal protoform in the middle.
“If at least a fraction of my crew wasn’t treacherous, then they’d be Autobots, and I’d have no use for them on my ship,” he replied, voice strong and even as he began twisting his hand, speaking over the pained sounds of Sniper’s knee joint being truly and utterly mangled. “I am the Commander of the Decepticons because of my former treachery towards those too weak to be Lord themselves, and I admire initiative over cowish following. Some follow because they fear me, enough to die for me as readily as those who truly embrace me as their Lord and Master. You, in idiotic arrogance and short-sightedness, do neither.”
No, on second thought, this might have been the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. The one that kept tearing through his knee, combined with the one that kept screaming in his mid section. Sniper’s faceplate twitched into a pained grimace, turning away from the Decepticon leader. He let loose a low hiss, and his claws froze into a tense hooks, their subtle twitching conducted by the painful notes that Megatron sang to his body.
"It seems that… I do not, doesn’t it?” he whined through his dentals. There was something very grim in the way these words were spoken. “But while I … I am obviously not strong enough to push the knife into your back…it won't take long for someone else to do that in my place," the spy's thought circled around Starscream for a moment. That useless glitch - he hadn't kept his end of the bargain. Sniper's optics snapped their gaze back to Megatron’s - and his mouth stretched into a little, malicious smile. It was only a phantom, but it was still there. "Maybe that is a thought you should sleep on." Emphasis - just in the right place to let the Decepticon lord know what he knew. Of course, there was lots more where that had come from, but at the moment, out of all the things Sniper had found out about Megatron’s state and upcoming ambush, for instance, this seemed like the one thing that could get through to Megatron.
A cold lance through his spark froze Megatron momentarily, his optics widening with sheer and numbing shock at not only the mech’s knowledge, but with sheer incredulity at Sniper’s nerve in saying it. To him.
The pause was brief before a thunderous sound snarled from his chest and vocaliser equally, optics flashing a hellish glow and teeth baring. Megatron threw the mech clear across the brig into the far corner and bore down on him intent to put his fist straight through his spark in a killing blow.
There it was, the reaction he had longed for: the moment when Megatron froze into place, shock sucking all the anger out of his optics. And during that moment, Sniper felt a tiny bit of amusement - which was gone for good, once he was thrown on the floor again. His green armor plating created a messy melody of metallic noises when it collided with the floor panels. The sudden movement sent a violent wave of pain through the slender body. A puddle of energon splashed onto the floor, and the spy let out the most agonizing shriek, his hand rushing to the wound, as though it was going to do him any good at this point. His body twisted uncontrollably, hisses and groans escaping it. The red optics remained closed for a while, his whole faceplate twisted into the expression of agony, before they snapped open again, their panicked gaze darting up to Megatron. The mech's shadow grew big and dark, hovering over the tiny spybot.
Sniper tried to pick his wrecked form up from the floor, but the second he put his weight on his bad knee, the circuits popped and the whole knee joint gave in. He fell back on his side, the red of his optics widening. He gasped, letting out a broken groan before he begun to pull his body away from the Decepticon Lord. His spark pulsed with fear as he realized Megatron was about to deliver the finishing blow.
And the only thing Sniper could do was to crawl away in fear. Eventually, his back stood against the wall, optics staring up to the growling shadow that had cornered him. And then came the death strike. Sniper let out an uncontrolled little whine and hurled his body to one more desperate attempt to dodge the blow.
Energon splattered to the floor.
But it was not Sniper’s.
Megatron had drawn his fist back so far, aiming at a point in the wall with intent to go straight through the dying mech’s body, that it had given Sniper precious milliseconds to get out of the way. His fist sank up to the elbow in screaming metal, which in itself didn’t hurt beyond the dull impact against his hand. When Sniper began to drag himself away, however, he wrenched his arm back mindlessly and felt the jagged shards of the caved bulkhead tear into him. His arm should have stayed stuck; blind rage put the pain outside of his mental sphere, however, and he saw more than felt his arm shredding as it came out in one hard jerk.
Sniper refused to stay still now that he had gotten himself moving again. So, coughing up little puddles of energon, he crawled away from Megatron as fast as he could. His movement was trailed by silent whining, but it was all over-powered by the Decepticon Lord's loud rampage. And when Sniper threw a panicked glance over his shoulder, he saw how the bigger mech's arm armor came apart.
Sniper had seen Megatron angry a number of times, but this time was different. He had never witnessed such blind rage before - not on the Nemesis anyway. And maybe in some other circumstance, he would have been proud and amused about the fact that he had managed to upset the Decepticon Master so. But at the moment, the only thought throbbing in his processor was the one that wanted to stay alive. Even if, in the back of his mind, the spy knew that his time was growing very short and dim. But still, he crawled forward, having no particular heading, his dead leg trailing the rest of his body. He just needed to get away.
With energon practically pouring out of his shredded arm, Megatron stilled by the wall and considered Sniper’s pitiful efforts out of the corner of his optic. If he hadn’t just put his hand through the bulkhead and done himself significant damage, he’d have continued to beat the small mech to gun-metal grey. As it was, however, he clenched his dripping hand into a fist and snarled aloud to the other mech in the room.
“Soundwave, see to it that this treacherous piece of scrap’s mind is reduced to the same state as his body. Then get his remains off my ship.”
With that, Megatron came about to walk across Sniper’s dragging path, spilled energon pulling at his pedes in thick ropes. He keyed open the door, his frame practically smoking, and locked it behind him without a backwards glance.
Megatron did not wait for the doors to finish opening to throw Sniper through, his claws slick with energon from where he’d been dragging the smaller mech through the corridors of the Nemesis. He did, however, wait for the doors to slam and seal shut behind him before speaking, standing against the opposite wall with narrowed optics and his voice a snarl.
Soundwave slipped in behind his Lord, narrowly avoiding the doors as they shut. Though his own indignation ran deep, he kept back from the other two mechs, moving into an inconspicuous position in a shadowy corner next to the door to simply watch the proceedings. This was an offence against him as well, but Megatron held first rights to vengeance. The dark mech was perfectly capable of amusing himself on whatever scraps his master left behind for him.
He did as he always did--kept silent and watched.
“You *dare* spy on me on my own ship?”
He had screwed up, big time. This was the only thought that kept pulsing through his mind, setting a slowly building panic into his spark chamber. His nicely gleaming, green paint job had now suffered its first battle damage in years - even without a battle. There was none to be had, as Megatron towered over him in rank, build an strength. Sniper was tiny compared to him, especially now, when he was being humiliated on so many different levels.
The spy grunted as he was thrown on the floor. He tried to crawl up immediately, but only ended up balancing the weight of his upper body on his elbows. The red optics looked up towards the Decepticon Lord - towards the angry expression in his eyes which didn't promise much mercy to the spy. Sniper's cool was cracking, but he tried to keep it on his faceplate, still.
"My lord," he said eventually, climbing to his knees, servos still on the floor. "You are surrounded by scavengers and opportunists. Rest assured, I'm simply pointing them out for you," he was reaching for a proper excuse, but at this point, there was none. Knowing this, he began to plan his escape, before Megatron could actually kill him. He slowly gathered his feet against the floor. And judging by the leader's fierce expression, the spy would have to be very fast.
Megatron barked a laugh at that, coming like a blast into the room as his optics flashed in charged, malicious delight. “You liken yourself to a particularly poor parasite as a tactic to beseech my mercy? You’re more pathetic than I thought. I can only congratulate you for surviving this long.”
Sniper lunged to avoid his hand a fraction of a second too late, his claw-like thumb catching across the smaller mech’s midsection and tearing at the mesh. A trivial wound - too shallow to be left. Closing his hand around the thin armour plate of Sniper’s hip, Megatron lifted him bodily and pressed him into the wall. His other hand punched into the already weeping abdominal plating in a pointed fist, tearing through to his protoform with ease. Growling against the resounding shout, Megatron opened his hand to gore the cavity wider and snapped his hand back and out.
Dropping the suddenly-limp body, Megatron took a step back to watch the pool of energon and coolant spread. His slicked thumb played across his claw tips, now dripping purple and flecked with shreds of protoform and armour shards. “You were not watching my datastreams, my consoles - you were watching your Lord. Why?”
Sniper grunted as he was forced against a wall, his back plating scratching against the dead metal. And for a moment, his red optics were forced to meet with Megatron's, whose gaze sung a series of malicious tunes. He felt a scratch being placed in his midsection, his faceplate giving a half panicked grimace, before, in a single moment, his expression was wiped clean. Pain. The spy's mouth cracked open, the red of his optics widening in shock. He felt his whole system around Megatron's grip tensing up, twitching, as the larger mech twisted his claws away from his mid section, leaving a nasty hole behind.
’Oh Primus, and in the name of everything that was holy.’ Sniper collapsed back on to floor the very second the Decepticon leader let go of him. The spy's shivering claws snapped to the open wound, as though it was going to help. His optics stared right across the floor, wearing an expression of shock, his whole body curling around the wound. It was beginning to soak the floor with weakly glowing purple.
"M-my lord-!" shot out of his vocalizer. The usually calm and collected voice wore shades of panic, as he tried to crawl onto his knees. "I simply-," he tried to hold the wound tighter. "-your well-being has been discussed on board the ship a lot of lately. And I-," Sniper grunted and hissed, trying to dismiss all the error messages that kept occurring in herds. "-I was trying to ... put the rumors to rest." Not entirely untrue. But still, not the truth - not by a long shot.
“Touching,” Megatron sneered, optics flashing even as they narrowed. He gripped both of Sniper’s doorwings in one fist to suspend him again, unaffected by the pained shout that came from the suddenly-straightened body. Slamming the slender mech back against the bulkhead, harder than before, he took a fistful of cabling and neural wires from the tattered edge of the grotesque wound and simply pulled them out. “But as you can see, any rumours about my health have been greatly exaggerated.”
The claws of Sniper's free hand attempted to dig into the floor panels as he felt a strong grip dragging his door panels. Yet, it only resulted in a broken whine and a sad screech of metal. The quick movement made the wound spew out more energon, staining the polished lime green with weakly glowing purple. He bit his dentals together when his tiny form was forced back between the Decepticon lord and the wall, attempting to keep the pained cries hidden from Megatron's hearing sensors. However, when the bigger mech started ripping his neural wires apart, one horrifying shriek erupted from his speakers, trailed by twitching of his limbs and a series of low, pathetic groans.
Sniper had seen his share of battles in this war, as he was not exactly a youngling anymore, but never had he been subject to such excruciating pain before. He cringed, his pain receptors working overcapacity. And behind all the warnings and errors his system kept spewing at him, the spy begun to realize that these moments could possibly be the last ones he would ever see. This thought set a panicked flare into his spark chamber, and even a hint of despair would show in the red of his optics, which weren't focused on Megatron at the moment.
But the glimpse was soon hidden, as the spy frowned, his dentals still bit together - partly out of pain, partly out of spite. If these were to be his last moments, which was a likely scenario, he wouldn't take all his secrets with him. Maybe the most important ones, but not the ones he had always wished to speak. He coughed weakly, a stream of energon dripping to his chin. The red optics were only narrow slits, but their expression carried all the spite in the world. Groveling was useless now.
"For now … at least," he struggled to say, his true feelings and intentions finally peeking from between the lies. "But I am not the only one who has lost belief in your cause," Sniper grunted, his claws twitching. "You should know that I … did not work alone. Your troops are filled with more treachery than you can even begin to understand."
Megatron pushed the mech higher up the wall, dragging his back and doorwings up the metal hard enough to scrape away the mesh. Fixing him there with one hand, the other scraped hard down Sniper’s body to his right thigh and then lower to engulf his knee joint. The actual act of pressing the claw of his forefinger into the gaps in the back of that joint was slow, savouring the neural lines and stabilising struts and pressure sensors, and energon feeds and everything else that felt and hurt even before had even reached the skeletal protoform in the middle.
“If at least a fraction of my crew wasn’t treacherous, then they’d be Autobots, and I’d have no use for them on my ship,” he replied, voice strong and even as he began twisting his hand, speaking over the pained sounds of Sniper’s knee joint being truly and utterly mangled. “I am the Commander of the Decepticons because of my former treachery towards those too weak to be Lord themselves, and I admire initiative over cowish following. Some follow because they fear me, enough to die for me as readily as those who truly embrace me as their Lord and Master. You, in idiotic arrogance and short-sightedness, do neither.”
No, on second thought, this might have been the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. The one that kept tearing through his knee, combined with the one that kept screaming in his mid section. Sniper’s faceplate twitched into a pained grimace, turning away from the Decepticon leader. He let loose a low hiss, and his claws froze into a tense hooks, their subtle twitching conducted by the painful notes that Megatron sang to his body.
"It seems that… I do not, doesn’t it?” he whined through his dentals. There was something very grim in the way these words were spoken. “But while I … I am obviously not strong enough to push the knife into your back…it won't take long for someone else to do that in my place," the spy's thought circled around Starscream for a moment. That useless glitch - he hadn't kept his end of the bargain. Sniper's optics snapped their gaze back to Megatron’s - and his mouth stretched into a little, malicious smile. It was only a phantom, but it was still there. "Maybe that is a thought you should sleep on." Emphasis - just in the right place to let the Decepticon lord know what he knew. Of course, there was lots more where that had come from, but at the moment, out of all the things Sniper had found out about Megatron’s state and upcoming ambush, for instance, this seemed like the one thing that could get through to Megatron.
A cold lance through his spark froze Megatron momentarily, his optics widening with sheer and numbing shock at not only the mech’s knowledge, but with sheer incredulity at Sniper’s nerve in saying it. To him.
The pause was brief before a thunderous sound snarled from his chest and vocaliser equally, optics flashing a hellish glow and teeth baring. Megatron threw the mech clear across the brig into the far corner and bore down on him intent to put his fist straight through his spark in a killing blow.
There it was, the reaction he had longed for: the moment when Megatron froze into place, shock sucking all the anger out of his optics. And during that moment, Sniper felt a tiny bit of amusement - which was gone for good, once he was thrown on the floor again. His green armor plating created a messy melody of metallic noises when it collided with the floor panels. The sudden movement sent a violent wave of pain through the slender body. A puddle of energon splashed onto the floor, and the spy let out the most agonizing shriek, his hand rushing to the wound, as though it was going to do him any good at this point. His body twisted uncontrollably, hisses and groans escaping it. The red optics remained closed for a while, his whole faceplate twisted into the expression of agony, before they snapped open again, their panicked gaze darting up to Megatron. The mech's shadow grew big and dark, hovering over the tiny spybot.
Sniper tried to pick his wrecked form up from the floor, but the second he put his weight on his bad knee, the circuits popped and the whole knee joint gave in. He fell back on his side, the red of his optics widening. He gasped, letting out a broken groan before he begun to pull his body away from the Decepticon Lord. His spark pulsed with fear as he realized Megatron was about to deliver the finishing blow.
And the only thing Sniper could do was to crawl away in fear. Eventually, his back stood against the wall, optics staring up to the growling shadow that had cornered him. And then came the death strike. Sniper let out an uncontrolled little whine and hurled his body to one more desperate attempt to dodge the blow.
Energon splattered to the floor.
But it was not Sniper’s.
Megatron had drawn his fist back so far, aiming at a point in the wall with intent to go straight through the dying mech’s body, that it had given Sniper precious milliseconds to get out of the way. His fist sank up to the elbow in screaming metal, which in itself didn’t hurt beyond the dull impact against his hand. When Sniper began to drag himself away, however, he wrenched his arm back mindlessly and felt the jagged shards of the caved bulkhead tear into him. His arm should have stayed stuck; blind rage put the pain outside of his mental sphere, however, and he saw more than felt his arm shredding as it came out in one hard jerk.
Sniper refused to stay still now that he had gotten himself moving again. So, coughing up little puddles of energon, he crawled away from Megatron as fast as he could. His movement was trailed by silent whining, but it was all over-powered by the Decepticon Lord's loud rampage. And when Sniper threw a panicked glance over his shoulder, he saw how the bigger mech's arm armor came apart.
Sniper had seen Megatron angry a number of times, but this time was different. He had never witnessed such blind rage before - not on the Nemesis anyway. And maybe in some other circumstance, he would have been proud and amused about the fact that he had managed to upset the Decepticon Master so. But at the moment, the only thought throbbing in his processor was the one that wanted to stay alive. Even if, in the back of his mind, the spy knew that his time was growing very short and dim. But still, he crawled forward, having no particular heading, his dead leg trailing the rest of his body. He just needed to get away.
With energon practically pouring out of his shredded arm, Megatron stilled by the wall and considered Sniper’s pitiful efforts out of the corner of his optic. If he hadn’t just put his hand through the bulkhead and done himself significant damage, he’d have continued to beat the small mech to gun-metal grey. As it was, however, he clenched his dripping hand into a fist and snarled aloud to the other mech in the room.
“Soundwave, see to it that this treacherous piece of scrap’s mind is reduced to the same state as his body. Then get his remains off my ship.”
With that, Megatron came about to walk across Sniper’s dragging path, spilled energon pulling at his pedes in thick ropes. He keyed open the door, his frame practically smoking, and locked it behind him without a backwards glance.