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

[Breakdown]

Timeline: Week 1 | Day 6

---

      The first day of his searching had turned up nothing. He'd stayed out, chosing to carry the search into the night, which had been his first day of learning just how far he could push himself with the mistakes he made. It had just been too close to one of their emergency meet up locations for him not to take the chance that the medic would be there waiting for him, perhaps roll his eyes with his little comments about it having taken him long enough to come get him. Comm down, something simple. But Knock Out hadn't been there, and the knot in his gut tightened, forcing him to push himself. Traveling to the next set of coordinates had depleated a huge chunk of his Energon that he couldn't get back. Mistakes noted, with changes in his searching to be made.

      Second day had been much of the same. He had returned to base early into the third day to report his findings and get his new set of coordinates with hopes that he'd be allowed to bridge to them instead. He was surprised that he was given permission, figuring that Megatron would have ordered him to be pushed to the very edge. Not one to question it, he had thanked Soundwave for at least that small favor. Not driving between locations would at least save on consumption and allow him to further his search. The possiblities were almost endless. 

      The third day he'd had help from Flux, and though the fellow bruiser had assisted in covering more ground in the time he had him around, he had a feeling that somewhere between their separation and meet up the mech had either forgotten what they were looking for or didn't know what 'signs of disturbances' meant. He'd meant well, Breakdown didn't have anything but thanks for the effort. He'd spent the night covering that ground again just to be sure. That night he had spent that night recharging in his alt mode under the cover of some trees to stay out of sight. His choice to entirely shut down had been a foolish one to make, as he could have been snuck up on by MECH and never seen it coming, but it was one he had to chance. Reaching out to Bumbleebee had been fruitless, even if he had learned more from MECH's little ambush that had left him feeling a familiar discomfort that hadn't crept in for a while. Escaping MECH's clutches, whether you'd been stuck under their knife or not, was one of those too close for comfort things that Breakdown knew far too well about by his own experiences. He'd have to settle his score with them one day, if just to silence those nightmares.

      Morning of the fourth day brought him back to base. The failed searches were wearing on him for more reason than one, though his determination to bring his partner back into safe arms never wavered. The list was smaller now, with only a couple more possiblities. Something had to come from this. 

      Soundwave had been giving him very specific places to search, some in the same vacinity with only miles between them. He didn't know if the Spymaster was leading him on a wild goose chase to appease Megatron or if he was trying to help him in some strange way, which summed up to 'Soundwave's Way'. Not as if he could actually ask him. Considering that even the Vehicons were under specific orders, Breakdown had a feeling that this entire plot had more to do with simply him not showing up to Megatron's little welcome home party. 

      Did he suspect something? Or was he just pulling on Breakdown's leash to reign him in, to instill the fear that had been wavering in his absence in the same way of his loyalty? 

    〘  Warning. Energon levels reaching minimun recommended. System recommendations to follow. 〙

     Breakdown didn't have time for system warnings. This was only the fourth day of searching, but the taxed systems were also partly his fault. He hadn't taken his rations prior to the orders being handed down so he had already been less than three-fourths of the way down prior to all of this beginning. If he'd known Megatron would have gotten his backside plating in a twist like this he would have done things different. Now he just had to deal with the consequences of his choices.

     All of his choices. 

     And one of this choices, one far more dangerous to make, was to reach across party lines again. It had been a couple days, so maybe Bumbleebee had heard something? Breakdown searched through his comm list to look for the bugbot's frequency again. Then again, there was a moment of hesitation in which he let out a small 'hn' noise. Surely if the yellow bot had heard something knowing how worried Breakdown was about his partner, he would have reached out to him, right? 

     Or... did Bee know something and was playing dumb? No, he wouldn't do that, not when there was the possibility of MECH's involvement, right? But if the Autobots were responsible for his disappearance...

      'Of course he wouldn't tell you. He doesn't care if you die looking for him. It's one less Decepticon to worry about.' 

     "Shut up!"

     Before he could even stop himself, a fist lashed out and struck a nearby tree, the impact sending large splinters every which way as the trunk broke under the pressure of the hit. The upper portion tilted and fell, hitting the ground with a loud THUD as Breakdown stood there trying to regain his senses. 

[Megatron]

"I see that I am interrupting what one might call a 'private' moment," a deep voice ruminated from the thicket, from the shifting trees behind the addressed. The harshness of it was unmistakable. It was the gravelly tone of his master, the very same by whose whims he now found himself on the verge of starvation and deep in desperation. Megatron stood in Breakdown's presence, or perhaps he now stood in his. The rustling of the woods must have obscured his arrival and the soft howling of the wind melded seamlessly with the sound of the fading bridge some distance behind the Warlord. 

For how long?

He has surely been here only for a while, but it was long enough to hear, long enough to see. Keeping his hands behind his back, Megatron marched ever closer, stopping a short few feet away from the brawler and his little… incident. He did not comment on it in the negative. In fact, his voice was almost eerily close to his regular intonation. Far be it for Megatron to lecture others in the matters of hate and anger. He himself had plenty of both and they were not always focused constructively. If anyone understood that sometimes, all one can do is punch and scream… Well, it was him and he was here now.

He did not judge him for it, but there were many other reasons to judge Breakdown.

His optics lowered to the blue mech's form naturally as the Decepticon leader inclined his helm, regarding his starving asset with a searching look. Megatron instinctively examined him for signs of weakness, of wear and tear, of the toll his punishment had taken on him.

"...And by your disposition, I can only assume that the search goes poorly," he continued in his signature tone, a distinct hint of mockery hiding behind the sharper edges of his words, "Pitiable, but perhaps not unexpected."

Given Breakdown's recent past, Megatron had come to expect quite little of his brutish soldier. Many times he had considered what worth was a witless brute who could not even avoid capture by humans despite his significant strength. After all, strength was the only thing that Breakdown had going for him as far as Megatron was concerned. It had always been thus, and that is why they now stood in just such a position—one a servant, the other his master.

...or so the master thought. Naturally, he wasn't aware that his bruiser harbored such deep-rooted thoughts of dissent. Had he known, this torment would have only been the beginning of Breakdown's humiliation.

[Breakdown]

    It didn't take having to see the source of the voice for Breakdown to know who had managed to sneak up on him without notice. From the moment he heard the familiarity of it from trees behind him, his frame responded on impulse and he spun to face Megatron just in time to see him appear, hands out of sight behind him, speaking in tones that demanded the attention of anyone who heard them. Prior to Starscream's recent command and the events that unfolded during that time, he would have backed off from the Decepticon Commander, given him the space and berth whilst diverting his gaze to show his submission. Now as Megatron approached, the bruiser remained where he was, knee plating locked as pedes dug in right where he stood, the singular optic keeping locked on the approaching mech.

     The absence of Megatron had given him an opportunity to break through some of his oppression, combined with Knock Out's MIA and the dismissive nature of the Warlord's words regarding the situation- not to mention his cruel, rather self-centered order- forced a crack in Breakdown's otherwise gentle demeanor. The combination of everything was giving Breakdown room to breathe, to reflect, to think in ways he never had before. Certainly a smaller mech in stature, built from the literal ground up to be a force not to be taken lightly. Especially when he had something dear to him to protect- now, to find.

      At present, he needed to address the towering Commander who had made made short work of closing the gap between them, now looking him over. He knew that Megatron was inspecting him to check for signs of side effects from his orders. That was a satisfaction he absolutely refused to grant him, not without a factor that was out of his control, such as a forced system stasis to conserve what he had left in his tanks.

     "Lord Megatron." Short, to the point, far lacking the once timorous tone he once had when he would address his 'Master'. 

     "Not poorly. The locations Soundwave has directed me to just haven't shown any signs about what may have happened or where he might have been taken to."

     Breakdown, lacking the comprehension of most, probably misunderstood just what 'poorly' implied  in the way Megatron had used it. He was more driven by bare instinct to react to the tone the Warlord had carried with his words. It may have been bait, all things considered- probably was in some way, but Breakdown lacked the sense to bite his tongue when it involved anything to do with Knock Out. Not the smartest thing, though to someone on the outside looking in, not unexpected. 

     "Knock Out's out there somewhere, and I intend on searching until he turns up." With or without Megatron's order, his words hinted at. Starvation be damned. 

[Megatron]

Megatron maintained his posture and position with an eerie consistency, giving Breakdown very little to go on in terms of discerning the Warlord's intentions. He listened to the mech's report with much the same unchanging attitude. His optics remained pointed, but he otherwise concealed his malice beneath a veneer of cold command, letting the bruiser share as much of his findings—or lack thereof—as he would. Yet, in spite of his previous jabs, in spite of his distant demeanor, Megatron didn't see this as a trivial matter, nor was he amused by Breakdown's lack of success.

Whoever had Knock Out, provided that they also had the right tools or knew the right words, could extract any Decepticon secrets they wanted. Where Breakdown searched for love lost, Megatron only wanted to know whether the cause at large was in danger. He'd already appointed Flatline to Knock Out's old position, and so this search, at least as far as the Warlord was concerned, wasn't so much about retrieving a crucial asset as much as it was about protecting the Decepticons in their vulnerable state.

But such intentions were of no moment to Breakdown, to his situation, to his own condition. No, Megatron was not here to remind him of the urgency, necessity, or reasoning—he even doubted that the bruiser had the acuity to fully comprehend how much of a pressing matter this was beyond something as ineffectual as his own mushy feelings.

And so, Megatron would speak in a language they both understood—pain.

"Knock Out's out there somewhere, and I intend on searching until he turns up."

"...or until you starve," he stated cruelly as if it were just a fact, a reality, that couldn't be altered. The lack of care in his voice was palpable but perhaps not unexpected. After all, Megatron had treated Breakdown with so much contempt during his own capture. Only this time, they were face-to-face and he concealed none of it.

"Speaking of," the Warlord mused idly after a while, "I hope you appreciate the experience. There is clarity in necessity."

Ah, there it was. Tonight was not about Knock Out at all—it was about his own punishment.

[Breakdown]

A whirling of metal came from one of his servos as it shifted, only to quickly go back as quickly as it had started. That servo in question shook, digits curled into a fist still as an after effect from the lapse in judgement to bring out one of his hammers and forget that the mech before him wasn't Bulkhead, but rather Megatron, and that Hammer Time was not a smart direction to take. So he steadied his servo, hoping Megatron would merely write the moment as a reaction to his own anger issues taking hold, rather than a false challenge. Either could have been bad, but at least the former was something that was not an unknown trait of his.

He couldn't tell if the Warlord was really just out here for casual conversation and to smile at his own handiwork in action, or if he was purposely trying to bait him by giving him a reason to make it more. Either way, the latter was a trap he couldn't risk falling into. As far as he was aware, Megatron didn't know of his indiscretions regarding his wavering loyalty to the Decepticons, so he had to tread very carefully as not to either draw suspicions, or solidify them if they were already surfacing in that helm of his current Master.

"With all due respect, Lord Megatron," Breakdown began, looking up at the mech in question. "I fail to see how starving me does anything to prove a point besides looking like you're desperate to get everyone to fall in line. You're currently unable to build more Vehicons, we're down a medic, and by doing this you're risking the loss of another in the faction. Without knowing how many Bots the Prime had managed to wrangle together, is it really worth stacking the odds against us...?" 

He stopped short for once, refusing to allow his mouth get away from him as his Hammer almost did, just before 'For the sake of your ego' escaped him. Breakdown still had a mission to find Knock Out and didn't exactly want to be offlined before he had that opportinuty. A mission to find out if he were safe or not, at least.

"This isn't Cybertron, where you have an easier time to pull others to follow your lead. We have the issue of MECH and the Autobots to contend with. Is this really a time to be thinning our numbers?"

All the while Breakdown kept his field level- neutral-, refusing to show any of his cards. Did Megatron have other plans? Ones that didn't rely on how many Decepticons were readily available to him? He'd warned the Bugbot that Megatron was up to something, and he was still convinced that the Warlord was, even if he wasn't privy to whatever that may be. Their Commander always did have a way to hold things close to his chassis, which may have been why everyone was running around so blind trying to figure out how to manage- where they all stood within the eyes of their Great Leader.

Even Breakdown could have been colored curious if he weren't already very much aware.

[Megatron]

For a while, Megatron simply stood there in cold, dead silence. There wasn't a hint of fury in his face, no immediate reaction to everything Breakdown said. He stared at him with an almost vacant glance and were it not for the slightest narrowing of his brow, he would look like a perfect sculpture rather than the living tyrant he was.

And then, his lips parted wide open, he lurched forward and—laughed? It was an ugly, guttural sound, a tortured noise that echoed through the woods as if produced by some unholy creature of human folklore. The laughter dragged on and on, perhaps longer than it should. It was no mere scoff, no simple chuckle, but a deep-chested expulsion of emotions.

When he straightened out once more, the Warlord stepped closer and inclined his helm downwards at the other mech.

"Oh, your simplicity does amuse me, Breakdown."

Megatron's voice was as deep as it was condescending, amusement still seeping through to the very last few syllables, but when he next opened his mouth to speak and not to laugh, he did so with utter seriousness and a grave tone to match. No one would even believe that laughter was the Warlord's initial reaction had they only heard him speak as he did next.

"I did not punish you for the benefit of others. Had I wished to do so, I would have simply executed you and mounted that thick cranial casing of yours on a wall in the control room for all to see."

A small part of him still wanted to. The killer look in his eye, concealed behind layers of amusement and cold hatred, spoke of violent intentions.

"No. This hell is for you and you alone—and you have not yet grasped its purpose."

When at last he finished talking, Megatron finally revealed his hands, letting them fall by the side of his body. His right hand held onto something small, blue, and translucent.

Why, it couldn't be! But it was—a small cube of Energon, perhaps enough rations to keep Breakdown from collapsing on his Sisyphean duty. Was its purpose simply to taunt him? Megatron held it aloft, letting the sun catch it just right through the leaves and the boughs, its cerulean hue swirling with potent and delicious power.

This was life, in the palm of his hand.

[Breakdown]

Once, where there was fear held in his optics upon the Warlord, was now only met with anger and defiance as he listened to the laughter from the other mech. His servo, still clenched, harbored so much threat towards Megatron. What he wouldn't give to give him a good clobbering, if just once, across his faceplate, much in the same way he characteristically would do so to Bulkhead. The feud between the two seemed so far removed in comparison to the rage he had now, being fueld from within and burning to be let out. 

Then, something else. A flicker of blue that momentarily caught his gaze...

Breakdown saw the cube of energon. His taxed systems ached upon seeing it, his knee plating giving in only enough to tremble momentarily and for his optic to flicker, before he returned to his previous stance. The desperate part of him, the paranoia, scrambled around in the back of his processor, wrapping itself around it to try and take over. It struggled to force its way in, to dig its roots back into his core and force him to submit, not only to it, but to the Decepticon Leader before him. 

'There's no where else for you. Turn your back, he'll have you hunted down. Kneel, beg for forgiveness for your mistakes, pledge your loyalty.'

The paranoia was what kept fear at the forefront, keeping him in line so he did not step out and risk endangering the faction that he had taken to. He may have not wore the brand, but he had still taken the title- if just by name. Any Autobot registered him as an enemy no matter what he did or didn't do within the faction, the title alone was enough to condemn him...

'You're not a fool.'
'You're not his fool.'
'You're not his slave.'
'He is not your Master.'

"You don't need to talk to me about personal hell. I am very well aware of the one I live in, without your added... insurances."

'Stop! You won't be safe anywhere. Autobots? You will just be a prisoner to the Autobots if they catch you. You'll never know peace. Safety. Home.'

Would a prisoner within the Autobots be so bad, at least for him? He lived in a psychological cage, confined within the prison of his mind where fear factors kept him in step. A physical cage would at least give him four walls to see, to touch, to keep himself restrained in. 

'He will hurt Knock Out. You are to protect him. You will die to protect him. That is your mission.'

'You're not his slave.'
'He is not your Master.'

"I guess if you're not going to care about finding the medic who worked around the cycle to revive you when you were in stasis, I suppose I have to. And just to be clear, I am very well aware of my energon levels without you needing to taunt me with..." 

Your fake attempt at charity.

"... whatever that is."

Breakdown shifted then, stepping one pede behind the other as he circled whilst keeping his optic hard on Megatron. He would not turn his back on the Warlord, finding that any honor that the mech before him may have once had had become lost a long time ago, and that he would not hesitate to take an opening to strike Breakdown in the back should the opportunity present himself. Rounding to the other side of the mech, stood, facing him, intending on continuing along the path he had first been planning before he'd been interrupted.  

There would be no more fear, not for Megatron, not for his own situation. 

His frame, however, had other plans, and the end motion of moving was met with unsteady movements that nearly cost him his upright position. Being so angry, allowing himself this distraction, had strained his systems and his processor further. He'd have less time than before this. Had that been part of Megatron's plan? To see him fall to his knees, in spite of how unwilling he was to do so? 

[Megatron]

The amusement slowly drained from Megatron's face as Breakdown continued. The longer he spoke, the less the Warlord felt inclined to enjoy another laugh at his expense. What had once provided a source of joy had gone sour. Now, Breakdown looked just sad. Pathetic. Weak. It was the sort of weakness Megatron despised so dearly. And yet, despite it all, he did not strike. He answered. He spoke.

"This?" He gestured with the cube of tantalizing Energon, "This is a choice, Breakdown."

His voice was firm but he did well to hide his fury for moments longer.

"I had hoped to give you an opportunity. To claim it, by force or by submission."

The Warlord confessed, setting the cube between him and the bruiser in a small clearing. Suddenly, a new quality tore into his speech with an almost overwhelming force, drowning out the firmness with a distinct emotion: exasperation. He was growing tired of this, of Breakdown. Clearly, whatever was to happen today would be final—in one way or another.

His next words only served to reaffirm that purpose.

"...But if you would rather deny me and your choice so brazenly, then by all means, you are welcome to do so. To strike out on your own without my help, without Soundwave's coordinates, without the search parties that continue to comb the surface of this wretched planet—day in, day out—and will continue to do so after your systems finally force you to kneel in the dirt. Alone or before me, it matters not."

Rising, growing—the volume a crescendo by his final words. There it was, the lethal intent, the desire to see Breakdown live up to his namesake and break down. Oh, how he desired to see that insubordination purged from his systems. No, not by violence, but by necessity. This was his game all along. He wanted to show Breakdown. Show what? Who he would be without him, without the Decepticons.

A starving, paranoid pile of dumb pistons and bloated servos. It was a cruel and twisted lesson that he played at the bruiser's expense—it always has been.

"In truth, I wager that I have done more for the medic who saved my life than any Decepticon rightly deserves. But then you already knew that, didn't you?"

He stung again. To answer positively would be to admit a blow to one's own pride, to deny it would be to admit one's own ignorance. Double binds that bound tenfold. Constricting. Megatron knew, he always knew, how to ensnare a defiant soul.

And then, as always, came the ultimatum. He looked down towards the cube and spoke his final words: "Take it or leave it. We both know you will not survive the week without Energon." Coarse, brick-like words spread across the woods. "You will not be given another chance, ever again."

Only the sort of choice Megatron could give. A death of the body or a death of the self.

[Breakdown]

What Megatron had done for Knock Out? That had to be some sort of joke, one of which no one was laughing. Breakdown knew the sleepless nights, the long hours, the stress that Knock Out underwent as the Decepticon CMO at the base, even with the aid of Flatline. He could only imagine now what the new primary medic was probably going through now that he had to handle the workload on his own- with the added pressure of Megatron's warpath as he pushed to get everyone to fall into that very neat little straight line so he could put them under his thumb again as he had been for a while now.

Peace Through Tyranny, indeed.

Breakdown wasn't as foolish as one would assume, daring not to answer that rhetorical question at risk of letting that voice in the back of his processor get the better of him. It was bad enough already with everything else being said, the mockery, the baiting, that he had to bite back from. Squaring against the Warlord without the energy to spare would be an immediate death sentence.

He still had his partner to find.

The cube was right there, sitting between he and the Decepticon Leader, waiting on the choice that he had been given. To accept it would be to fall in line, to kneel once again, to fall back into the oppression. He'd have to admit that he couldn't make it without the acceptance of the Decepticons, without Megatron. The voice that always lingered in the back of his processor would win and probably never be silenced again.

On the other hand, to deny that cube would be to show Megatron that he felt he did not need neither him or the fection he controlled to continue on, which could cause issue within itself. He'd be staying on his own two feet in obvious defiance that could be looked upon negatively in the future. However, the voice would fall into silence against his own self conscious, and he'd regain something that he hadn't had for himself in a great long while.

"I have a Chief Medical Officer to find," he said simply, flatly, making sure to mind his tone.

Breakdown would not yield. Not this time, never again. Not that Megatron needed to know that. For the moment he just needed to put some distance between the two of them to avoid something far more dismal from happening. He took a step back, away from him, indicating his intention to do just that as he kept his gaze locked on him to watch for any signs of aggressive movement. So far it'd been civil, as much as one could call it as such with all things considered, but that didn't mean it couldn't go pear shaped at any moment.

That, and he was intending to leave without the 'offered' energon cube. 

[Megatron]

"A chief medical officer..." Megatron hummed idly in response, seemingly unbothered by the mech's decision. He did say that this would be his last opportunity to choose, so now all they could do was watch and wait. Precisely what that meant to the Warlord in the long run remained to be seen.

Whatever effect it had on him in the moment, he did well to conceal it beneath his signature veneer of cold command, of calculated cruelty. He crossed his arms over his chest and briefly lifted one of them, gesticulating in a questioning manner.

"Is that all there truly is to it, Breakdown?" He asked with a genuine tone of curiosity, "Such determination. Such fervor. It almost makes one wonder..."

Were you more than an assistant to him, he more than a medic? Megatron thought. His brow lifted in accord, searching, pondering. The bruiser had taken unreasonable umbrage with the mere idea that the Warlord was not doing everything within his power to find Knock Out a few short moments ago, only to subsume it into himself so suddenly...

And channeled it into the determination to find him.

No one else Megatron had punished in similar fashion ever wished to accomplish their objective so fervently on another's behalf—at the expense of their own body and health. At the cost of their life. So many Decepticons would fight him, would kneel, would reach for the cube and reel at the sight of their master's blade. Self-preservation was a virtue to them—to Megatron.

But not Breakdown...

There was a lack of understanding. It intrigued the old tyrant so much that he almost let go of the desire to hurt him.

[Breakdown]

Megatron had made his offer, Breakdown had turned it down. He assumed that was the end of it, with the Warlord being denied his subservant, denied having another pawn to toy with any further. 

However, it seemed that no, he was not quite done with him yet, and the tone of his words coupled with the question all had a hidden insinuation there, one that he had to be very careful with approaching. Had Megatron figured things out, or was he still in the rumormill with the rest of the faction, where others had their assumptions with no real proof. The pair had been cautious about making sure not to give anyone anything, but Megatron was a sneaky sod, who Breakdown wouldn't put past having Soundwave spy on them a little more intently. Not that the relationships of others really mattered when it came to war, except in cases when there was a risk of using one to elevate the motivation of another to fall in line. This easily could have been one of those situations- one that he and Knock Out had feared since the moment they took that irrational plunge. 

His current condition was already enough of a breeding ground for his inner turmoil to run amuck without this new anxiety inducing situation being presented to him. 

Somehow, in spite of everything, Breakdown still just stood there. Perhaps he was too exausted to react, or he'd just gotten so used to this line of questioning from the masses that he didn't care to waste the energy. Whatever it was, he was thankful for it. 

"I'm not really sure what you mean," he responded simply, staring at the Warlord without a hint of emotion outside of exhaustion. "I was assigned to be Knock Out's bodyguard, so I am just carrying out those duties, and until I get some sort of evidence that Knock Out no longer functions, that will not change. Any other weird suggestions you're getting at are really just... a waste of time. Time that I could be spending carrying out your orders."

[Megatron]

"You have already failed as his bodyguard," Megatron stated flatly in a cold refusal of Breakdown's words. His head inclined towards the bruiser with a sideways glance—a reminder or a mockery. It mattered not whether it was one or the other, for when he spoke, that distinction was lost instantly.

He pressed further, insisting.

"It cannot be mere obligation that drives you."

These words came from somewhere deeper. Not from here, not from this time.

An assumption? No. He sounded so certain. Did he truly know or was he prying deeper into Breakdown? Into what drove him? Perhaps he was looking for confirmation so that he could bring it to the surface and find a way to twist it to his advantage whether the mech consented or not. Breakdown may have suspected correctly, but that crude, iron tone of Megatron's... It concealed the Warlord's intentions remarkably well. He could never know for certain what he was thinking unless he said so himself.

And again, he spoke—revealing only as much of himself and his thoughts as he wished.

"If we found him gray and lifeless, what would you do?" The silver tyrant rasped, "I wonder..."

If this truly was only a bodyguard's duty, then surely Breakdown would feel nothing but shame at the suggestion of just such an outcome, of him having failed, and nothing beyond that.

[Breakdown]

"Then I would live with the shame of failing my duties as his bodyguard and I would accept the due punishment for said failure."

Simple enough answer, whih was all he wanted to give after the insult of failure. Knock Out knew the dangers of going out for his races, and no amount of telling him not to would stop him from parttaking in that self-indulgent entertainment. The fact he would do so right under Megatron's optics could attest to that. 
Obligation was an odd word to use to describe the situation he had with Knock Out, and it felt dirty to hear it for whatever reason. Though, if that was what Megatron wanted to use for it? He could. Breakdown wouldn't argue, at least not about that. There were far greater things to burn bridges over.

"Can't understand why it seems so difficult to believe that some of us do find motivation in something as simple as obligation and duty. Why make it complicated? I'm very simple minded."

Breakdown wasn't going to give Megatron anything to run with if he could help it, hoping that berating himself would sway the conversation and the intrusive nature of it from it's current course. He had to hope that he hadn't figured anything else, since suspicions were things that were far easier to wave off. Then again, this was Megatron, and once he dug his teeth into something he rarely let go until he got his way.

Though he had hoped for other news from Bumblebee during their conversation, he still wanted to believe he was safely within the hold of the Autobots. At least he was far away from Megatron, and away from the punishment Breakdown feared would be handed down if the medic were to show up out of the blue again, far greater risk if he were with the Autobots and Megatron believed he may have shared valuable information that would risk any Decepticon secrets. He knew his partner wouldn't be that foolish, but his word wouldn't stop the Warlord's rampage.

[Megatron]

"You are simple-minded," Megatron replied in a sudden and sharp tone—the barely concealed hostility bubbling over in a brief lapse of stillness—a commanding affirmation.

"But you are also emotional," he continued, the tempo of his voice evening out gradually. There was due emphasis on emotion, on being emotional, on that word, which the Warlord clearly considered the key to unraveling Breakdown. He knew that there was more to his concern than duty. If it were only about duty, he could just as easily be assigned to be Flatline's guardian and assistant, seeing as he was now their chief medic. Whether that position was temporary or not, this would have been a better use of Breakdown's time. But instead, Megatron had him combing this planet with everyone else and Breakdown was so singularly focused on it.

On Knock Out. The fixation was unusual, noteworthy, at least enough to force the other mech into an argument, into some defense on behalf of the medic. This was enough for Megatron. He needed no greater immediate revelations. He sunk his teeth into that fervor and he would not let go. It was enough—it was always enough.

His optics narrowed, absenting themselves of Breakdown's rugged, weary form, and briefly glancing over the fusion cannon on Megatron's arm, then slowly reaching for the bottom of the barrel where his sword would come into form if he willed it, but he didn't. Not here, not now, not yet.

Instead, he spoke with Breakdown a while longer as if to make a point of his own composure. Emotion. This was the subject. It continued to be the subject. The common thread. The control of it, the display of it.

His and Breakdown's... It was time to prod deeper.

"And I know that it is not hatred or pride that keeps you from goring yourself upon my blade," his optics were kept pointed to the exit point of his melee weapon, still concealed in his forearm, and then they traveled back to meet Breakdown. They remained narrowed as before.

"You can lie to me if it makes you feel safe, but you cannot lie to yourself—or Knock Out."

About what? Surely, there were no lies between the two of them. Perhaps Megatron assumed that Breakdown's devotion came from a place of one-sided obsession of some kind. It would be rather typical. He was, after all, the principal villain scorned. Maybe he could not conceive of another form of devotion, of reciprocation.

Or maybe he suspected that there was discord, whatever the true nature of their arrangement may have been. He did not know that, he did not know anything for certain, but he'd suspected for a long time now—and now? Now it was time to talk because there could never again be another time to talk.

[Breakdown]

Breakdown didn't react to the repeat of his statement of being simple minded, letting it slide to avoid reacting, minding himself very carefully as he watched Megatron reach for the where his retracted blade emerged from. The fusion canon was a danger itself, one constantly in the sights of those around him, but that blade was a much more hidden threat that could come out of nowhere at a second's notice. He took a couple steps back, just to ensure he was out of immediate swinging range before he allowed himself to focus on other parts of their conversation.

Emotional? Lying?

"I don't lie." Stretch the truth, bury it, even dance around it, but Breakdown never straight up lied. The insinuation that he even dared to was rather insulting, however, this was Megatron, and he was in charge of Decepticons. Masters of deception, so to speak. As deceiving as it could be, at least, considering they had Starscream on the faction who was quite loud about his desire to take over in place of the Warlord. By default, Breakdown should have been of the same nature just through title alone. 

"If you're talking about me being angry, well, then yeah, I'm emotional. Angry that I can't locate Knock Out in spite of all the locations I've been given to go to."

Point to Megatron if that were the case. Breakdown didn't believe for a split second that that was what he was talking about, though he'd play that game. Simple minded, right?

"Why don't you just come out with what you've been dancing around saying?" Breakdown grew tired of this back and forth, but he wasn't stupid enough to say that to Megatron's face. He'd stepped over the line a couple of times and drew back before he could be burned too badly, somehow, and wasn't ready to push that luck too far. "The longer I'm standing around is the less time I'm looking for Knock Out, and the longer someone has doing who knows what to him. If you did not want me looking for him, you could have given me any other order, but this was what you gave me to do." 

Let him waste energon looking for the medic, rather than standing here trying to play this cat and mouse game of trying to get answers out of Megatron in regard to what he exactly wanted to talk about. If he wanted to make him suffer for not attending the meeting, use him as an example to other Decepticons, then so be it. Petty, though effective against a faction of wayward mechs and femmes who had become far too lax in the time Megatron had been absent, to leave this... former Gladiator of Kaon putting a foot down rather hard and stomping on insubordination. 

Breakdown was merely one of many victims. 

"And I haven't 'gorged myself on your blade' because I've had no reason to."