(Bee double-takes at the not-Megatron who’s looking at his weird wiggly moss-and-octopus monster.) WAH!
“Such a strange creature, yet so devoted through enchantment…” Bee’s startle earns him a pat on the back.
“Be still, mortal! You are known to me.”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
Bellator came to rest both hands on the pommel of his sword, solemn and still. “Unicron’s stain taints his body. So long as it remains, the Chaos Bringer lays claim to his spark. An ill-fitting fate for such a fine warrior… but one I am certain he will combat to his dying breath.” A hint of a smile returned to his scarred features.
“Ah, not The Faceless One you know to send our messages, The Faceless. The Nameless, the Anonymous. These creatures summoned me here, and I must chose a suitable vessel when I arrive.”
“Is there anything I can do to help him fight it? Or at least make it easier? Primus cleared out Unicron’s blood from me- I’m sure there’s gotta be something that can be done to help Megatron, too! It sounds pretty awful to have to deal with that his whole life.”
“Ohh, those guys? I didn’t know they could get you guys, too. I guess I’m not surprised you’d choose Megatron- but are there other vessels you thought about?” Smokescreen’s coming close to Bellator, examining the god, curious. Is he hot to the touch? Can he really touch him?
“Unicron is not something that can be- wait…” Bellator leans down, the flame in his chest flickering with the sudden motion. His optics burn into Smokescreen’s, and from so close their heat can be felt physically.
“You have been cleansed by Primus, mortal? Hmm… your passion is a deep need to protect that which you have previously lost, and a desire to prove your worth, even to yourself. And you do have his touch… Of course, I have other vessels, but this one holds my favor. I know not how you could aid him, but this one is prideful and stubborn. By the mere offering of aid, you strengthen your bond, and therefore his will.”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
More laughter rumbled through the air. How bright a spark, how valiant a warrior. The mighty one’s gaze fell into a glare at the mention of Unicron, his open flame crackling.
“I am not the Chaos Bringer, nor his pawn, though I can feel his touch within this frame. Should my warrior fall, he will be consumed.” Seeing Smokescreen still so concerned, Bellator shakes his helm. “Not by me. My time here is ever fleeting, for I was summoned by the Faceless. Your Megatron shall return in time, strained perhaps, but unharmed.”
Smokescreen calmed, for about a moment, before turning to a face of worry, standing a bit closer to Bellator, as if ready to protect. “Unicron’s going to do that if he goes offline?”
“The faceless one? How come? Are you two close?” Faceless one… Maybe they were friends!
Bellator came to rest both hands on the pommel of his sword, solemn and still. “Unicron’s stain taints his body. So long as it remains, the Chaos Bringer lays claim to his spark. An ill-fitting fate for such a fine warrior… but one I am certain he will combat to his dying breath.” A hint of a smile returned to his scarred features.
“Ah, not The Faceless One you know to send our messages, The Faceless. The Nameless, the Anonymous. These creatures summoned me here, and I must chose a suitable vessel when I arrive.”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
The god takes a step to the side, keeping the mortal in view.
“Peace, my warrior! Were you to challenge me truly, you would surely lose.” From the air, Bellator’s might sword manifested in his right hand, and with a flourish he stabbed it into the ground between them.
“I am Bellator, The Flame of Battle. Your Megatron is one of my greatest disciples, and this planet’s war is done for now. Neither will come to harm by my hand on this day. Child of War, what is your name?”
“It’s not about winning! It’s about keeping you busy until Megatron has control of himself again!” While the sword startles him, Smokescreen stands his ground, glaring up at the god.
Smokescreen doesn’t seem to relax until Bellator finally assures him that Cybertron will be fine. “Greatest disciple? He is pretty good at fighting- I guess that’s true. So you aren’t Unicron?” Smokescreen’s leaning in, carefully examining Bellator. “Name’s Smokescreen- so, if you aren’t trying to destroy our home or anything, why did you take over Megatron’s frame? He’ll be back, right?”
More laughter rumbled through the air. How bright a spark, how valiant a warrior. The mighty one’s gaze fell into a glare at the mention of Unicron, his open flame crackling.
“I am not the Chaos Bringer, nor his pawn, though I can feel his touch within this frame. Should my warrior fall, he will be consumed.” Seeing Smokescreen still so concerned, Bellator shakes his helm. “Not by me. My time here is ever fleeting, for I was summoned by the Faceless. Your Megatron shall return in time, strained perhaps, but unharmed.”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
Bellator watches the mortal lunge but doesn’t move to defend himself. He laughs but doesn’t flinch, the flame in his chest flaring in pride.
“Ah, be still, Little Warrior. I commend your spirit, but Megatron is not lost. He rages doubly so even now, heh. Such glorious fury. It is no wonder he surrounds himself with those such as you.”
That doesn’t make him worry any less! Smokescreen’s getting even more frustrated- he’s not even defending himself? Smokescreen takes a few steps back, before running as if he’s going to make a jump onto the bot, before circling around, aiming low.
“Give him his body back! I don’t know why you woke up, but I’m not letting you hurt Megatron or Cybertron! This is our home and I’m not letting that get taken away too!”
The god takes a step to the side, keeping the mortal in view.
“Peace, my warrior! Were you to challenge me truly, you would surely lose.” From the air, Bellator’s might sword manifested in his right hand, and with a flourish he stabbed it into the ground between them.
“I am Bellator, The Flame of Battle. Your Megatron is one of my greatest disciples, and this planet’s war is done for now. Neither will come to harm by my hand on this day. Child of War, what is your name?”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
Smokescreen pauses, staring at the warped frame, at the mention of a vessel- that’s not Megatron. That’s not Megatron. And he’s seen that documentary where Unicron uses an alternate of Megatron.
Almost everything else is ignored, as Smokescreen runs at the god, and puts all his force into kicking a leg, hoping to make him lose his balance.
“Give back Megatron!”
Bellator watches the mortal lunge but doesn’t move to defend himself. He laughs but doesn’t flinch, the flame in his chest flaring in pride.
“Ah, be still, Little Warrior. I commend your spirit, but Megatron is not lost. He rages doubly so even now, heh. Such glorious fury. It is no wonder he surrounds himself with those such as you.”
The god lingers. He has embellished and warped Megatron’s frame and considers Smokescreen with a curious tilt to his helm.
“My chosen vessel reaches out to you. Fear not. He will be returned to you.”
A few drops splash the ground, staining it with blue. Almost immediately, the fuel catches fire, burning a brilliant white. The flames dance and expand, moving outward in a giant circle beneath the summoner’s pedes. The fire burns all in its path but leaves Bumblebee unharmed, at the center manifesting a massive figure, visible only where the firelight glints off of his plating.
“My blessing is not granted lightly, but fuel has been shed in my honor. Answer me, child of the outskirts, what is this unrest that flickers around us all?”
The quiet ring of the chalice stirs the war god from his vigil, pulling his thoughts away from the turmoil within. An offering from a mortal was one thing, but from one of his fellow deities? Even sharing drink held significance. Bellator took the chalice in his blunted hand, drinking deep enough from it to leave the Useless One only his remaining half. A trickle of lifeblood ran from the gash in his jaw.
“You are generous, Useless One. You honor me.” He held the glass before his chest, and soon the energon swirled and popped with heat. Only then did he offer it back, paying the smaller god in kind with something of his own.
“Mmm… I’m fond of you, it makes me softer I suppose.” Rung shrugged a shoulder absently. His features lightened when he noticed what Bellator had done and he held the chalice in both hands to help soak up the heat that radiated from it. Curling it close to him, he drank the rest of it with a delighted shiver. “Hotter than I usually taste it. This is what you’re used to?”
Perhaps it was different because Bellator was used to energon that was spilled on the ground in the heat of battle? It might not be what he was used to, but the flavor was good.
“There is nothing soft about you, Rung.” The warrior smiled playfully, meaning it as a compliment. “But no. Only blessings I bestow to others are touched by my flame. I would be in dire straits indeed to do so for my own benefit. You shared your fuel, and I have nothing to give in return but the fire within me.”
“You phrase that like it’s some small thing to grant me in return and it’s not. The fire in you burns bright and hot, and it spreads like something wild when consumed like this.” Rung tucked the empty chalice away, stepping in and lightly resting a hand on Bellator’s chassis, careful not to come near the flame lest he be consumed by it. It was a heady thing to feel touched by that power and he hummed happily. “How fares your temples?”
Bellator rumbled, considering Rung’s truth. “It was no small thing indeed, but neither was your offering. Few of our kind would extend such a gesture without expecting anything in return.” Out of respect, the tendrils of fire receded to a more concentrated point in the hollow of his chest, away from where they might graze his fellow.
“My temples are decrepit and long-forgotten, but my warriors carry me with them. They carve my glyphs into their plating, their weapons. They shed their energon on the ground for my blade to soak it up. I am always with them, alter or no.”
The quiet ring of the chalice stirs the war god from his vigil, pulling his thoughts away from the turmoil within. An offering from a mortal was one thing, but from one of his fellow deities? Even sharing drink held significance. Bellator took the chalice in his blunted hand, drinking deep enough from it to leave the Useless One only his remaining half. A trickle of lifeblood ran from the gash in his jaw.
“You are generous, Useless One. You honor me.” He held the glass before his chest, and soon the energon swirled and popped with heat. Only then did he offer it back, paying the smaller god in kind with something of his own.
“Mmm… I’m fond of you, it makes me softer I suppose.” Rung shrugged a shoulder absently. His features lightened when he noticed what Bellator had done and he held the chalice in both hands to help soak up the heat that radiated from it. Curling it close to him, he drank the rest of it with a delighted shiver. “Hotter than I usually taste it. This is what you’re used to?”
Perhaps it was different because Bellator was used to energon that was spilled on the ground in the heat of battle? It might not be what he was used to, but the flavor was good.
“There is nothing soft about you, Rung.” The warrior smiled playfully, meaning it as a compliment. “But no. Only blessings I bestow to others are touched by my flame. I would be in dire straits indeed to do so for my own benefit. You shared your fuel, and I have nothing to give in return but the fire within me.”
Megatron's back up 