He cuts a sizable piece for himself, but licks the cream from his blade first. “You never fail to sate my hunger.”
“Technically, I overtook the planet. There are no terms. He called me a dictator and at the moment, I can’t deny that is what I am. I gave myself the title of Lord High Protector and now, citing the horror at Tyger Pax, he claims I am unworthy of the title.”
He glares at nothing in particular. “That the only lives I’m interested in are those who fought under me.”
… what.
What.
He wants to depose you because of the thing the crazy cult made?!
“He does, or at least for the deaths it caused. They got hold of surveillance footage, of radio messages before and during the attack, showed us visiting the building beforehand!” He growls, wiping the rest of the food from his sword.
“For all they know, I intended all of it to happen. And they’ve sewn seeds to have whoever sees their message begin to think that as well.”
Megatron doesn’t usually just keep utensils in his room, and is faced with a dilemma as to how to cut the cake. He looks around for a moment, before unsheathing his sword. Maybe this would be fine enough.
“Ah… That might indeed be the cause. I’m sure you recall the neutral who was giving me trouble, who you made all those delightful names for? He’s made a public statement, declaring me unfit to rule, and calling for an election of some kind.” He very carefully slices a thin piece for Bee, an appropriate size for him. “I have yet to respond.”
Pffft, he can’t wait until your term’s over? I mean not like you officially declared a term, but still. I dunno, maybe you’ll wanna retire and do stuff at some point! What’s his platform? “Vote for me, I have guns on my legs instead of my arm”?
(Bee forgoes manners and just eats the messy cake with his hands.)
He cuts a sizable piece for himself, but licks the cream from his blade first. “You never fail to sate my hunger.”
“Technically, I overtook the planet. There are no terms. He called me a dictator and at the moment, I can’t deny that is what I am. I gave myself the title of Lord High Protector and now, citing the horror at Tyger Pax, he claims I am unworthy of the title.”
He glares at nothing in particular. “That the only lives I’m interested in are those who fought under me.”
He could press the issue, blame him for ditching the device, and he almost does. But what good would it do but take them down the same road? He chooses to focus instead on the second part.
::Not intending to travel much in the near future?::
:: No. ::
The reply carried more weight than he expected after he hit ‘send’, especially in context of speaking with the mech that funded his first great escape. How long would it take for wanderlust to start scratching under his plating again?
:: This universe is fine. ::
Megatron smirked, something like pride working through his field. What was the matter with him?
::Alright. I am still here should you require me for reasons other than my space bridge.:: Whatever the hell those might be he couldn’t say, but it was true all the same.
Initially, he’d followed Bee to see where he’d gotten to, but the minibot had bridged off-ship for whatever errand he required. No matter. He would explain when he returned.
Some time later, the bridge reopens on the ship. At this point, the soldiers are used to unannounced groundbridges appearing at all hours. They’re always for Megatron. “There you are. Why did you- …You look as if you’re about to fall over.” He offered to take the large covered platter.
THANK YOu yes it was REALLY heavy. Optimus made it look eas- I mean- wait- no, you know what?! No! Me and Optimus made you a cake!
(Megatron will find a blue energon crumb cake, made obviously to look like the purple one from the pictures, on the plate. Some of the cream’s started to leak out of the sides from the warmth of the fresh-baked cake, much to Bee’s audible horror.)
He’s not sure what is more of a shock; that the cake beneath the cover is a copy of the dark energon one, or that Optimus helped make it. He subtly scans it for any toxins out of habit, but… it looks as mouthwatering as the one in the photo, even if the sides are leaking a bit. It is exactly the one in the photo.
“…You did this for me.”
I know how it is with you and the dark energon! Or I think I know? Maybe? But I know it’s addictive ‘cause of you and Smokescreen and Astrotrain and that it’s evil but- BUT HERE! Maybe! Maybe this’ll help it hurt less!
(Bee lets out a massive gasp of air. Finally, he feels like he can relax a little.)
Megatron looks from the cake to Bumblebee’s optics. There is a deep concern there that he can’t hide. He sets the platter on his desk before kneeling down, offering his servo for his friend to climb into.
“You continue to surprise me with your empathy, Bumblebee. …Thank you. This does help. Let us eat- did you get a chance to taste your own creation?”
Uh- no. Not this particular one.
(But the suspense is killing him, he’s gotta call Optimus and let him know if Megatron likes it-!)
(Bee hops into his hand and climbs up his arm, catching a ride on his shoulder and onto the desk.) You okay otherwise? Like, the dark energon stuff usually comes up if you’re really stressed.
Megatron doesn’t usually just keep utensils in his room, and is faced with a dilemma as to how to cut the cake. He looks around for a moment, before unsheathing his sword. Maybe this would be fine enough.
“Ah… That might indeed be the cause. I’m sure you recall the neutral who was giving me trouble, who you made all those delightful names for? He’s made a public statement, declaring me unfit to rule, and calling for an election of some kind.” He very carefully slices a thin piece for Bee, an appropriate size for him. “I have yet to respond.”
:: Yeah. I gave it to another Megatron to make a blueprint, but left his Nemesis before I got it back. ::
Otherwise he would have left his root-verse prison before Manus had a chance to do anything at all.
:: I probably don’t need one anyway. ::
He could press the issue, blame him for tossing ditching the device, and he almost does. But what good would it do but take them down the same road? He chooses to focus instead on the second part.
::Not intending to travel much in the near future?::
Initially, he’d followed Bee to see where he’d gotten to, but the minibot had bridged off-ship for whatever errand he required. No matter. He would explain when he returned.
Some time later, the bridge reopens on the ship. At this point, the soldiers are used to unannounced groundbridges appearing at all hours. They’re always for Megatron. “There you are. Why did you- …You look as if you’re about to fall over.” He offered to take the large covered platter.
THANK YOu yes it was REALLY heavy. Optimus made it look eas- I mean- wait- no, you know what?! No! Me and Optimus made you a cake!
(Megatron will find a blue energon crumb cake, made obviously to look like the purple one from the pictures, on the plate. Some of the cream’s started to leak out of the sides from the warmth of the fresh-baked cake, much to Bee’s audible horror.)
He’s not sure what is more of a shock; that the cake beneath the cover is a copy of the dark energon one, or that Optimus helped make it. He subtly scans it for any toxins out of habit, but… it looks as mouthwatering as the one in the photo, even if the sides are leaking a bit. It is exactly the one in the photo.
“…You did this for me.”
I know how it is with you and the dark energon! Or I think I know? Maybe? But I know it’s addictive ‘cause of you and Smokescreen and Astrotrain and that it’s evil but- BUT HERE! Maybe! Maybe this’ll help it hurt less!
(Bee lets out a massive gasp of air. Finally, he feels like he can relax a little.)
Megatron looks from the cake to Bumblebee’s optics. There is a deep concern there that he can’t hide. He sets the platter on his desk before kneeling down, offering his servo for his friend to climb into.
“You continue to surprise me with your empathy, Bumblebee. …Thank you. This does help. Let us eat- did you get a chance to taste your own creation?”
Scrap. :: Yes. I didn’t think you’d open it that fast. ::
::Am I not to open secret parcels that appear on my desk?:: His glyphs are tinged with humor so that the light sarcasm carries. It doesn’t look bad for being home-made gel. After turning it over in his hand, Megatron slips it into his mouth. The liquid center oozes.
::It is very good, Rigel. Perhaps we should trade recipes.::
The mech on the other end of the screen misses that intent completely, frowning warily at the messages.
:: I found it on the Datanet, anyone can get it. I lost your bridge remote. ::
Megatron's back up 