“Would I have stayed – “ His sharp glare fell back on the Warlord, “Could conscience stand to allow me live as I do now?”
Venom for tempered venom, old friend.
“I chose to assist with the coup upon my own accord, the Matrix had no part in my actions beyond what taint came from it’s bond; I am not blind to the change that was so apparent after it’s initial interface with my systems.
“In a moment of selfishness, I willingly chose to alter timelines.” The statement falling like lead from his tongue and it knocked the Prime back to pensive reflection in the mirror. “And the decision that any other mecha would be given understanding, I was not.”
No thanks to the bastard sitting beside him.
“Are you attempting to garner pity from me, old friend? Truly? I’m afraid I have little to spare. You think you are the only one that now faces little but ire from all for the decisions he’s made? That you are the only one who wanted…”
The words catch in his mouth, as if blockaded by his clenched teeth. A jagged, scarred, monster of a mech, snarling at a weary old knight whose armor had been forced upon him. Megatron was steadily growing to hate the mirror behind the bar.
“…Something different?” The creature in the mirror deflated, pauldrons settling down against his shoulders into their familiar mantle. It glared still, but the gaze had softened too into an expression more reminiscent of an old pit fighter than a bloodthirsty beast. He studied the other, as if judging how to proceed.
Megatron's back up 