tfw u and ur friend remember an old thread and conveniently find an empty bar…
photo: @casuallyarobot
can i just
Tag: nightcap
Nightcap
“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.
Nightcap
The silence that fell between them was agonizing, Optimus rifling through any possible argument that he could throw back in case the Tyrant was bent on continuing the spat, but to his shock, the mood shifted.
His piercing gaze softened for a split second after the stool was scooted his way, waiting for Megatron to use the distraction for a invitation to engage in a physical fight. That was usually how these things went, after all.
“Neither did I,” Optimus replied quietly as his hand drifted over top of the bar stool idly. All the fire had been sapped from his arguments and instead left with a pensive and cautious need to clarify the events that had transpired between their timelines. Universes. However it could be explained. “When I chose to change my fate through the Anonymous’ means, I had not thought my timeline still functioned… Or to which I even belonged.
“I was aware of the Multiverse, and those hailing from differing worlds before I could catch my bearings. Where I was… Who I was-” Cyan optics snapped back to the Decepticon, “Surviving an extinction attempt has a way of rattling processors.”
Extinction attempt. Always so grave. It took effort not to roll his optics.
“We are not different species, Optimus. Our race would have lived on, just as it will now. At worst, genocide is a more fitting term.” An extremely poor attempt at dark humor perhaps, but it was true. He no longer took any pride in the fact, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it either. Megatron returned to glaring into his glass as the coil of pain blossomed anew.
Optimus had, as he always had, chosen the path with the least violence, regardless of consequence. Though Megatron found it typical of the Prime, the predictable behavior wasn’t what had his hackles raised. Why had Optimus been able to find a way out, when he was left to pick up the shattered remains of their planet and its people?
Because you’re the one who broke it, came the unwelcome answer.
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Amusingly, I seem to be one of the few from our plane of existence that understands your particular brand of logic. As far as condoning it, who am I to question the Matrix of Leadership?” The venom in his lines seemed to drip from his words, and the warlord clenched his jaw, as if to stem its flow.
Nightcap
“What you called peace I called complacency. The council would not have allowed anything to change, and still you-” The further along that train of thought went, the deeper his claws gouged into the wood. It takes a few heavy, shaky ventilations for the warlord to collect coherent thoughts. Optimus was right; his systems would fail soon if he couldn’t calm down. Pathetic.
"Injury… not insanity. You trained your scout well, if that matters to you. The scar he left may never heal properly, you should be very proud…” Averting his optics worked only for a brief time. That deep voice and blazing EM field wouldn’t let him forget who he was talking to. May as well look him in the eye, despite the burn in his overheating chest.
“Even thinking too hard about you gives me physical pain, isn’t that such perfect justice?” That cube of high grade is starting to look very inviting…
A harsh sound rattled through his frame as he looked away dismissively towards the too-large mirror that hung at the back of the bar. The reflection was comical to say the least: A Warlord nearly doubled over in pain, scratching deep into the polished surface of the counter, and a weary-looking Prime who’s paint had faded with time. Eons had not been kind.
“What damage Bumblebee caused, it was not by my command,” Optimus stated. “Since I assisted in the coup of this Universe’s Tyrant, I have not exercised the commanding power I once held.” He glanced at the cubes of energon that Megatron was eyeing, and with a nudge of a black hand, scooted one closer to his nemesis.
“Whomever the Council saw in me… Has long since retired.”
Megatron took the cube with a sneer, but opted to glare into the drink rather than consume it just yet. As he listened, the ache subsided slightly. It would be easy not to believe a word the Prime said, to disregard his attempts to relate and shut out his enemy. But what would be the point? If the old warrior kept that up, they’d be stuck in this purgatory forever, or until he keeled over from the scar pulsing in his chest every time he lost his temper.
Optimus would do and say anything to end their animosity. However… both of them had, technically speaking, succeeded in killing the other. Now they both had the chance to recreate Cybertron, in the fashion they each envisioned. What more reason did Megatron need to cling to, simply to justify his hatred?
The warlord forced down a swig of his cube, and sat heavily, before reaching over and pulling out another stool for the Prime. “… Good. I never liked him.”
Nightcap
“It would not be MUTUAL!!” he spat, snapping his helm back to boring holes in the Prime’s helm with his optics.This proved to be a bad move, as more still enraged battle protocols were forcibly deactivated. Several tons of metal plating refused to sit tight against his protoform.
"I will not fall to you… and if you think I’m mad, heh. You made me this way.” Vision started to blur. Sitting down suddenly became a necessity rather than an attempt to save face. He took the stool and gripped the edge of the bar, trying to count the strange striations in the grain of the wood and ignore the writhing throb. Do not show weakness.
The seething rage that bled through his EM field, coupled with the dark frown that had carved its way into his features kept Optimus from the same outbursts that his counterpart kept fighting. Barely.
“Did I?” He asked rhetorically, tempering his voice with forced calm, “By attempting to keep peace where you would not allow it to exist. Even now, you stand here, bordering a system’s crash and consumed with hatred.”
He let a harsh stare meet the Warlords’. “If this is not madness I cannot place a better example.”
“What you called peace I called complacency. The council would not have allowed anything to change, and still you-” The further along that train of thought went, the deeper his claws gouged into the wood. It takes a few heavy, shaky ventilations for the warlord to collect coherent thoughts. Optimus was right; his systems would fail soon if he couldn’t calm down. Pathetic.
“Injury… not insanity. You trained your scout well, if that matters to you. The scar he left may never heal properly, you should be very proud…” Averting his optics worked only for a brief time. That deep voice and blazing EM field wouldn’t let him forget who he was talking to. May as well look him in the eye, despite the burn in his overheating chest.
“Even thinking too hard about you gives me physical pain, isn’t that such perfect justice?” That cube of high grade is starting to look very inviting…
Nightcap
The sharp-dentae’d smile sent a pang of fury lancing through his chassis as the broadcast display flashed through his memory again; Agonizingly clear and raw as the day he’d seen it.
“And if I had stayed? What satisfaction would our mutual off-lining bring?
"You are mad.”
"It would not be MUTUAL!!” he spat, snapping his helm back to boring holes in the Prime’s helm with his optics.This proved to be a bad move, as more still enraged battle protocols were forcibly deactivated. Several tons of metal plating refused to sit tight against his protoform.
“I will not fall to you… and if you think I’m mad, heh. You made me this way.” Vision started to blur. Sitting down suddenly became a necessity rather than an attempt to save face. He took the stool and gripped the edge of the bar, trying to count the strange striations in the grain of the wood and ignore the writhing throb. Do not show weakness.
Nightcap
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…
Nightcap
Unable to launch himself at the target of his anger, the bar takes some damage as Megatron’s fist slams down upon it.
“And what about my words do you find fault with, Optimus?! Tell me, so that I may amend my accusations properly!” Another wince, but this one is expected. His plating merely tightens against his protoform, wild optics never unlocking from the Prime.
“I thought you had nothing more to say to me,” he fired back coolly, glancing up from the fist that had connected with the table to the warlord’s glare. “You achieved what you wished of your display, what matter does it make if I disagree?”
Megatron wished he possessed the Predacon’s ability to spit fire. Maybe if he waited a few minutes, his temperature would climb high enough.
“You stand here before me, alive and well, with a bondmate and a functioning Cybertron to call your own, oh Primus has indeed granted my wish! What a perfect end for you-!” Not in front of Optimus. He suppresses a shudder, forcing himself to remain standing despite the stabbing torment in his chest.
“Just perfect…”
Nightcap
Megatron could not remember the last time it had been so quiet. His life was so infused with sound; the cheers of his follower, the roar of the wind as he flew, the deafening ring of blaster fire and metal-on-metal. Even in the solitude of his quarters, the hum of the Nemesis’ engines was a constant. In the absence of it all… he felt exposed.
His digits clenched into tight fists. The sword contained in his arm wouldn’t release and his cannon wouldn’t ready itself. How he despised magic.
“As if I would have arranged this… I have nothing to say to you, Optimus.” He clenches his dentae, concealing a wince. How was he meant to calm himself now?
"I should think not,” he said. “There is hardly any more left to discuss with all your words bared to the Multiverse for judgement.”
The venom was barely concealed in his tone, expression steeled and distant as he turned away from the shadow he’d been staring at and instead examined the bar’s surface. Megatron was a loudmouth.
Unable to launch himself at the target of his anger, the bar takes some damage as Megatron’s fist slams down upon it.
“And what about my words do you find fault with, Optimus?! Tell me, so that I may amend my accusations properly!” Another wince, but this one is expected. His plating merely tightens against his protoform, wild optics never unlocking from the Prime.
Nightcap
The Anon’s magic dissolved the familiar halls of Iacon and Cybertron in favor of a flat, darker grey room that seemed endless. No walls, no ceiling – though a gradual fall off around them indicated that there was some light source above – and the strange human-built bar was far larger than it should have been. Clearly, it was made for mecha he and the Tyrant’s size, but it was hardly comforting.
It was quiet. Perhaps like the quiet that overcomes someone when they’re alone in someone elses’ home at night, trying to sleep. An uncomfortable, unfamiliar quiet only broken by the Prime’s steps as he took in the spartan surroundings. Two cubes of energon rested perfectly still on the counter top.
But his main concern was the acute angles that made up Megatron’s cast shadow. He kept his focus there, rather than meeting glare that was surely boring into him.
“This was not my doing,” Optimus rumbled quietly.
Megatron could not remember the last time it had been so quiet. His life was so infused with sound; the cheers of his follower, the roar of the wind as he flew, the deafening ring of blaster fire and metal-on-metal. Even in the solitude of his quarters, the hum of the Nemesis’ engines was a constant. In the absence of it all… he felt exposed.
His digits clenched into tight fists. The sword contained in his arm wouldn’t release and his cannon wouldn’t ready itself. How he despised magic.
“As if I would have arranged this… I have nothing to say to you, Optimus.” He clenches his dentae, concealing a wince. How was he meant to calm himself now?
Megatron's back up 