[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]He who pays the piper, calls the tune. [ Closed | Megatron ]

[Megatron]

Megatron remained quiet for a long while. He gave the other mech no indication that anything had changed in his thoughts, in his behavior, until he lifted his right arm towards the Energon cube. Still silent, the Warlord's optics narrowed briefly.

"Gored, Breakdown," he corrected him in a harsh voice, "The term you are looking for is gored."

Stillness became his sole constant. Only the forest framing his figure swayed unnervingly, making Megatron seem all the more statuesque. His arm still held forward as if though he were posing for a portrait with remarkable patience. Then, suddenly, a whirring noise cut through the woods. A soft, plasmatic glow emanated from the barrel of his fusion cannon.

...

Miles away, a human watched the birds soar high from their perches in frantic flurry and thought he spotted what seemed like a blue flash cutting through the treetops.

...

When the dust settled, Megatron stood amidst burning grass and scorched earth. He did not even seem phased by the explosion of Energon. And still, still he looked at Breakdown.

"And you will never 'gorge' on anything ever again should your devotion to that mech fail you. This I vow."

Fail to locate him, to save him. Megatron's iron words bound like shackles. Breakdown wanted him to say outright the unspoken. This was it. A threat as direct to his life as there ever was. No longer would the tyrant dance to the tune of his lesser. A lesser who decried him, who had not the courtesy to beg for his life in good conscience. Whatever good will there may have once been for the bruiser had faded, perhaps a long time ago when the humans took his eye or perhaps today amidst the roaring fire.

[Breakdown]

Breakdown watched, listened, didn't move, and didn't take his optic off Megatron. A word error had given him his means of a new speech, so the bruiser just let him go off on it without really letting it phase him. What could he do? Tell Megatron he'd misheard? That would just give him more to go on him for, so what really was the point? It was easier to just take the licks this time, let him get what he needed and wanted to say off his chest, then hopefully he'd move on.

When that arm raised, Breakdown did brace himself slightly. It was not out of fear, as one would most likely call him foolish over ( Knock Out certainly would) since at this point the gesture alone would have sent even Starscream scrambling somewhere far away. Rather, to brace himself, prepare in case he needed to move out of the way. When he aimed it down towards the little energon cube he side stepped so there was enough clearance. 

Though he knew no amount of such would ever be enough. He'd seen depots explode back on Cybertron, he'd witnessed the aftermath of the mines here on Earth. Even one singular cube could cause a large amount of damage. He just hoped that Megatron wouldn't be so stupid as to...

Of course he would. Why wouldn't he? It was Megatron, one who was always for theatrics, even moreso than Starscream. The louder, larger, the explosion the better. Not that it would do much to damage that thick chassis...

Or that thick helm, either.

Breakdown felt debris clatter against him as splintered wood, rocks, dirt traversed outward from where the cube had once sat. From top to bottom various combinations of organic material rested on his frame, settled there as the dust did the same, leaving the bruise to turn his gaze slightly to the end result of Megatron's little... tantrum, of a sort. The creatures he usually listened to on his outings had fled, some probably not so luck to get out of the path of the blast radius.

Senseless. It'd been absolutely senseless. Optic and upper lip plate twitched slightly in a sign of disgust, though the grumble that wanted to come up was far easier to force back, to keep it from surfacing. That would only make matters worse. The best thing he could do now was just stay silent and hope the Warlord had gotten whatever he had going through his systems thoroughly out of them, whilst keeping himself from blatantly asking him 'if he was done now, and if he felt better now,' as one would say to a sparkling acting out for not getting it's way.

Pulling his bright yellow optic from the scene, he glanced back to Megatron and merely stared. Be either from his desperate surpression of his anger over this entire situation, or the flames themselves from the grass that reflected off the surface of the optical plate itself, the glow of his optic seemed to be brighter than normal, giving him an appearance of even more determination than before as his pedes stood firm within the scorched earth below him. 

He would not be oppressed by the tyrant before him. Not now, not again. That he vowed.

[Megatron]

"We are done here," Megatron continued decisively in a rough tone, his optics already abandoning Breakdown to his lonesome. Instead, they wandered to the Warlord's right shoulder, whereupon he brushed off the debris collecting on his pauldrons. The motion was almost strikingly casual and it said more than the tyrant perhaps intended. Where one saw a gesture of defiance and unyielding will, another saw a desperate poise that barely warranted his attention.

Breakdown made a stand. For Megatron? This was business as usual.

Now that the message has been delivered, Megatron simply turned around with one lumbering sway of his towering form. He hadn't the effort in him to turn back, but he did speak some final words towards the other mech nonetheless: "For your sake, pray that we find Knock Out alive."

Already, the word 'alive' rung to the sound of muffled footsteps as the Warlord began to walk away with a slow and deliberate step. He emerged from the carnage and the ashes, slowly disappearing behind a curtain of smoke. He seemed confident in his departure, sure of himself. As if this entire conversation was only for his own benefit and altered nothing in the grand scheme of things. Confident that Breakdown would not strike at him from the back and maybe even confident that he would not defy him further.

After all, it was not his life on the line. It rarely ever was.

[Breakdown]

Done. They were done, according to Megatron.

While he could breathe that the conversation for now was at least over with, he had a feeling that it would be brought up later. Or at least touched on. Probably during the worst of times- perhaps once Knock Out returned, when the tyrant leader could confront him on this as well. That could only end as horribly as he imagined it would. 

Pray to Primus ( not that he asked for much help there, but it never hurt to try once in a while ) that it would simply be let be. Somehow that seemed like it was something far too grand to even ask of some deity to influence. 

At the moment Breakdown's single optic watched Megatron as he walked away. He wouldn't strike him in the back, not out of fear, but more that it was simply not how Breakdown was. The bruiser didn't take shots when his opponent wasn't facing him. Of course he knew what Megatron was capable of and taking a shot at the back would probably be far more advised than a face off with him, though his fighting style simple wouldn't allow for something that cheap, no matter who it was. 

If he wouldn't take a shot like that at Bulkhead, then he certainly wouldn't for anyone else. 

Knock Out would come home. He'd be alive. Breakdown had no doubt about that. It was the afterwards that he was mostly concerned about.