[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Loyalties (Megatron, Virtuoso Closed)

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(Week Two, Day Four)

Blackridge was busy, as usual.

Like a large, mechanical ant’s nest, any human who stood above it would see and hear nothing. But beneath, it was busy. Individuals going about their own duties that never ended; cleaning, tidying, inventory, planning, plotting. An army didn’t happen, it was created. Moulded from it’s surroundings, forged from scrap acquired here and there.

A fitting description, especially now, considering the Decepticon army was no longer exactly up to par.

The dark silver warlord stood in the front part of his personal quarters, crimson eyes moving over a map of the Earth. The large monitor and computer standing to the side of the room hummed quietly, waiting to be used.

The room Megatron stood in was the frontal part of his quarters. While his actual sleeping quarters weren’t all that large – being such a large mech would obviously require a large room for sleeping – the actual largest part of his quarters was his War Room. Here were maps, a few smaller monitors with lists of supplies and weaponry, stats, and other necessary information. Some of his own personal furniture from the Nemesis had been removed and brought here; chairs and a massive table that sat in the very center of the room, a bare light directly above the table casting illumination down onto the surface. A closed door in the back wall led to Megatron’s actual personal quarters.

On the table stood a large cube of energon, with a few empty containers beside it.

Megatron remained standing, arms folded before him, waiting for the one he had summoned.

Virtuoso.

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Of all the ways he expected his day to go, it was not this. Virti had prepared himself for menial tasks, either on his own or alongside vehicon troopers. He was almost actually looking forward to working with them- pleasant enough company. They were often obedient or polite enough to not talk back to him.

Then again, they barely spoke up.

At least he could preach to them without much backlash. That was to be Virtuoso’s next task; scoping out more of the base to see if he could set up a sermon somewhere. It didn’t have to be a permanent thing, no, just something for once a week. The very idea of preaching, talking about the joys of Primus- it gave Virtuoso something to hope for. But he was getting ahead of himself.

No, of the ways he expected his day to go, it certainly wasn’t a personal summons by none other than Megatron himself. Virti had found himself picking his way through the winding corridors of Blackridge, keeping to a faster than average gait. The Commander was a busy mech, to keep him waiting was unthinkable- to be tardy was to be disrespectful. From experience as both the lesser and the higher, Virtuoso was familiar with the implications.

The entry to Megatron’s quarters caught up to the priest before his own thoughts did. Instead of barreling into the room, Virtuoso took a moment to compose himself appropriately. Was he nervous? Not quite, he had been in important meetings with higher ranking church officials in the past. Surely it wasn’t so different? At the thought Virti had to fight hard not to chuckle. Warlords weren’t exactly clergymen. There were no nerves, only curiosity; it wasn’t like he was in trouble, so what was it exactly that this meeting was going to entail?

Time to find out.

Virtuoso took a few steps into the room, servos clasped behind his back as they so often were. He kept a close distance to the door, waiting either for permission to further enter the room, or an order to close the entry. Making certain not to let his gaze wander too much, he focused his attention on the mech who summoned him.

“Lord Megatron. It is a blessing to finally make your acquaintance.”

He kept his tone level and sincere. His facial features set to something neutral- this was most likely not a meeting to be all ‘buddy, buddy’ with one another. A partial bow, servos in front of himself and palms together- Virti would have bowed further down but to do so would upset his centre of balance. A second or so after, he straightened back up and returned to his default pose.

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He looked over a shoulder, regarding Virtuoso for a moment, before turning completely and facing the other mech. Large arms rested at his sides in a relaxed manner, hands loosely held.

“Ah, Virtuoso...or should I call you Priest? Thank you for coming – please, come in.”

Megatron eyes studied the other, looking over the pale blue and silvers of his frame, “I’m afraid my current residence is most likely not something you are familiar with. If I recall correctly, the Priests of Primus tended to reside in the cleaner, tidier parts of Cybertron.”

Megatron shifted his weight, turning to look over his war room, the dark rock walls and bare, strung lights, casting a harsh reflection on everything. There was a very quiet, but audible, buzz as the wires overhead carried the electricity.

Looking back to Virtuoso, the Warlord gave an apologetic grin, “I fear my Nemesis, while at least created from proper Cybertronian metal, was nearly as dark.

Forgive me for saying so, but you look extremely out of place here.”