Prowl sends a comm ping. No words, marked as medium priority. Megatron is free to take his time answering. Really. Prowl means it.

verdigrisprowl:

mightymegatron:

Megatron was not expecting to be contacted by this Prowl after what he’d put them through. Hadn’t he been given enough of a verbal lashing, no matter how justified?

With a resigned sigh, Megatron answers.

::You have my attention.::

… He could have taken a little more time and Prowl wouldn’t have complained.

But Megatron was on the line now, better to get this over with. «As you are no doubt aware, when we extracted Unicron from you, we had to store him in the reliquary for the All-Spark. In the process of destroying that facet of Unicron, we also, unfortunately, had to destroy the reliquary.

«Considering it’s because of you that another Cybertron had to lose its reliquary, it would be appreciated—and fair—for you to supply a replacement.

«If you’re concerned about losing access to it altogether, I’m certain an arrangement could be made guaranteeing that your universe may borrow back the reliquary in the event of an emergency necessitating such a device.»

Prowl never had what could be called an expressive voice, but this was as flat as he got. As bland and businesslike as a concrete wall. Otherwise some loathing might slip through.

Megatron listened with his arms crossed behind his back, staring at the wall. It was a small comfort to know that at least part of him had been destroyed, but as Prowl continued his optics narrowed. 

::Regardless of whether or not I agree with your terms, I am not in possession of a device that may replace yours. Its location was lost to us in the course of the war, otherwise we would not have had the need to use yours. My Cybertron is as yet without the Allspark, without a means to replenish the lives lost.::

::Forgive me if finding it remains my priority over creating a new one. Surely you can survive without it until then.:: Where Prowl’s voice was (ironically) robotic, Megatron’s tone was downright cordial, even saccharine. He couldn’t help himself.

[Pingity Ping Ping, Pa-Ping, Ping, Ping]

 heligooddeals:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The pings wake Megatron, but seeing who they’re from he forgets to be irritated, answering the urgent message.

::Blackguard, what’s happened?::

If Quickshaft had come back from the dead and returned to Blackguard’s side, that would be one thing. But instead, he had taken the place of someone who Megatron knew and respected. To treat such an event with the casual attitude this mech presented rubbed him in all the wrong directions. 

Once he hears of the Golden Age though, his curiosity returns. Blackguard lost this mech long ago… Such would explain why she didn’t seem like a mech in mourning for her lost love, and why Quickshaft didn’t understand who he was speaking to. Megatron decided he could forgive that, at least.

::By my count, it’s been nearly five million years for you. It’s a wonder you’re remaining so… calm about the current state of things.:: Keep him on the line. If he was using Blackguard’s comm he was in her office, and as soon as the tests cleared him, that’s where he was headed.

[: Huh. :] Was all he had to offer in reply, falling into a long and heavy silence. Five million years was… a lot. Plenty of time for cultures, laws, governments, and mecha to change, leaving him outdated and out of place. Which was to be expected, he was dead and life goes on, but it was still jarring to hear.

Five million years, and he only had – at best – fragmented memories of what went on while he haunted around Redstrike. He felt utterly lost in the universe and wondered if it had made the right call in bringing him back for awhile.

[: I don’t really do panic and all that. :] He shrugs, pushing his pede off the desk and spinning himself around in Blackguard’s chair, unaware of how fast approaching doom was. In his mind he was completely safe; The universe made its swap and wouldn’t kill him off until the right moment. [: Things were bound to happen and stuff, ya know? Why freak out about all that?

[: So who you are anyway? :] When the chair starts to slow, Quickshaft kicks himself off for another spin. [: And how do you know my lovely helicopter? :]

::I can appreciate such flexibility.:: The mech was going to have it tested in a few moments. Singer’s readings finished compiling, showing Megatron’s spark as self-sustaining and stable enough to pass through an energy field. He unhooked himself from the monitors and summoned a space bridge. 

The warlord steps into Blackguard’s office just as Quickshift spins himself back around to face the front. The helicopter was large, so Megatron could stand his near 50 feet in here without ducking his horned helm.

“I am Megatron, Lord of the Decepticons and High Protector of Cybertron. Blackguard is the guardian of a youngling I’ve sworn to protect, and a friend, besides. Regrettably for you, I’ll be needing her back.”

Megatron’s cannon whirred to life, and aimed squarely at the much smaller mech in her chair.

Meet the Muse!

  • LEGAL NAME: Megatron
  • ALIAS[ES]: Lord Megatron, Megs, and whatever nonsense Smokescreen is calling him on any given day
  • DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown, but I have it assigned as Frank Welker’s, March 12th
  • FRAME TYPE | SPECIES: Panzere (has since been altered for flight), Cybertronion
  • PLACE OF BIRTH: The Well of Allsparks, surfaced at Tarn
  • CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Confined to the Nemesis medical bay
  • SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Neo Cybex (several dialects), Primal Vernacular (a little rusty), the dominant languages of the last planet he visited (in this case, Earth)
  • EDUCATION: Self-taught. Everything he knows is either from experience, his time spent with secret access to the Hall of Records, or his extensive spy network
  • OCCUPATION: Lord High Protector of Cybertron
  • DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: High grade, hasn’t smoked a cygar since the pit, and please do not give him anymore drugs
  • LIKE[S]: Respect, trees, thick warm energon sludge, flying up above the clouds, thunderstorms (when he’s not caught in acid rain)
  • DISLIKE[S]: Assumptions made about him, people who regularly quote Optimus Prime, being confined for indefinite periods of time (he is going MAD in the medbay)
  • FEAR[S]: Dying before Cybertron has reached the ideal he has in his mind, being under anesthesia, that Soundwave won’t wake up or something will go wrong with his recovery
  • PERSONALITY TRAITS: Stubborn, protective, determined, private, undyingly devoted to those who earn it

{ P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N }

  • ARMOR COLOR: Silver with purple accents (and rust patches, thank you Unicron)
  • OPTIC COLOR: Ice blue
  • HEIGHT: 35 ft
  • TATTOOS:  His Decepticon brand above his spark (which will have to be replaced when his chassis is rebuilt)
  • PIERCINGS: Well he’s been pierced by weapons and shrapnel? A lot?

{ F A M I L Y   I N F O R M A T I O N }

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N }

  • SEXUAL PREFERENCE: TF’s may not have classic genders, but there are certain slender-waisted frametypes that rev his engine more than others
  • RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Conjunx with @xxxsoundwavexxx, in a relationship with @willnotgogently, not currently seeking more

Tagged by: @heligooddeals!
Tagging: @willnotgogently, @the-scrappy-stinger, @ask-smokescreen, @radioactivibee, @thesoundlessvoid, @choochoomotherslagger, anyone else who would like to play!

/Smokescreen’s coming by this time and is giving Megatron a long present, currently wrapped up in a box./ So I should transform again today, right?

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

“You should.” He carefully takes the box, confused as he unwraps it. “What is the meaning of this? It’s no occasion I can recall.”

Smokescreen nods, staying close to Megatron, but transforming. It takes a little less time to transform this time!

“Do I need a special occasion? I just wanted to give you something!” It’s a very long pillow, almost as long as some two-wheelers! “I have something else I wanna show you, but I need to practice more with it.”

After a few minutes, Smokescreen transforms again, walking over to lean on Megatron, sighing in relief. It was still nerve wracking, but he was starting to get more comfortable transforming with Megatron around.

He pauses in his opening of the present to watch Smokescreen as he transforms. There’s not as much resistance this time, and he’s even able to talk in vehicle mode, staying for a few minutes rather than seconds. He doesn’t say so, but if Smokescreen gets close enough he may feel pride in Megatron’s field.

…Until he turns the pillow over, and finds a suggestively posed version of himself on the other side. “…I hesitate to ask where, or how or why you have this.”

Megatron? I think I’m ready to transform.

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

Megatron nods, taking a few moments to stand from his place on the berth. He walks over to the center of the medbay, the largest open space in the room. 

“Alright, then. I’m watching.”

Smokescreen pauses, waiting for Megatron to come over, and another moment, just to prepare himself…

His transformation is a bit slow, but that might just be from not having done it for a while. But Smokescreen manages to stay in his alt mode for almost a minute before transforming back and running towards Megatron!

He waits, arms folded behind his back. There is nothing to be rushed, it has to be Smokescreen’s choice.

When he finally transforms, Megatron can see the sticking, his very T-cog resisting, but it’s progress. The warlord smiles, satisfied as he stays that way for a few moments. He isn’t surprised when Smokescreen pops back into his root mode, although he wasn’t expecting the Autobot to run towards him. Smokescreen clings to his leg… and Megatron lays a servo on his upper back, between tense doorwings. 

“Very good.”

If anyone asked, Smokescreen would just say that clinging to Megatron might make it so the Lord High Protector might get hit with magic instead, but being near him does feel safer.

He wasn’t expecting the servo on his back, but he’s not squirming away, and seems to be slowly relaxing. Even being transformed for a short time made Smokescreen’s frame pretty tense, as if anticipating some magic to hit again.

“That’s it? No tricks?” Smokescreen’s looking up, starting to loosen his grip on Megatron.

He raised an optic ridge, but didn’t remove his servo.

“No tricks.” For a few moments, Megatron looked around the medbay. Nothing had changed. Singer was seated at his table, watching the whole affair but refraining from comment. All was well. His gaze returned to Smokescreen, smirking.

“The first step, proving you’re stronger than your fear. Very good. Tomorrow, do it again. For now, rest.”