At that, the Prime’s stare shifts from cold indifference to something more pointed and harsh. There was something off about his nemesis, he was angry, but there was an underlying, new strain emotion that left Megatron’s frame shifting minutely.
“Due to circumstances that fell into place after my original intent had been fulfilled,” he replied coolly. “However I would vehemently argue that my reality is far from perfect.” When the shudder wracked the other’s frame, Optimus’ brows knit into a deeper frown.
"Have you found your defeating of my alternate to be less satisfying than you had hoped?”
He had to force his vents shut to keep the volume down, which only drove his temperature higher. Megatron wouldn’t be able to keep this up. He wasn’t able to do anything to satisfy his rage, the rapid building of which only served to exacerbate his spark. The dent he’d just made in the bar became the focus of his glare, since looking at the Prime wasn’t helping.
“Would it make you any happier if I said yes? That I felt nothing killing your replacement?” The warlord smiled cruelly despite the force with which his dentae ground together. Why was it getting worse, now of all times…
Megatron's back up 