"Much too convenient! Just you wait until you get to my age, sparkling. Everything will hurt, even things you didn't know you had!"
He reaches for the menu to tap in his order as he barks this out, then taps the patch over his right optic. "Oh, yes. It seems like our third member managed to avoid it this time. Disappointing; I think losing a limb would do him a bit of good. Not that I'd be the one who would happily flush it out an airlock."
Megatron puts the menu back, having put in his usual. Robot vodka, straight. He seems slightly spirited as he speaks, almost like he's happy for the company.
"At the very least, the library remained unbombed, so thank Primus and none of his useless Primes for that." He crosses his arms on the table, looking at whatever decoration the organic bartender put out on the tables this month. "You've had a go on the space bridge revolving door."
It's a bland statement, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't leading.
Megatron snorted. "It has been a long time since I was called a sparkling," he said with reasonably good humor. He even smiled. It was swift, there and gone, but genuine enough before it disappeared behind his glass as he threw back its contents.
He lowered it back down onto the table. "I did," he confirmed, "though I do not remember all of it with clarity. Whether it is due to its feeling to me like it was millions of years ago, or the more typical explanation of my over-reliance on omniglobes during my flavor of the war."
He absently tapped a finger on his glass. "One of the side effects is degradation of the areas of your professor that have to do with memory. My long-term recall has been unreliable ever since."
His is a simple order, so it's brought out quickly. Looks like he tapped in about 3 bottles of the stuff. Megatron takes them from the vehicon server with some jovial thanks, then clonks back down into his seat to listen. He pours his own glass, then holds the bottle out to his counterpart in a wordless offer.
"Sounds like a skill issue to me," He snorts, knowing better than to think too hard about the implications of frying out one's own processor.
Megatron broke out into a smile and laughed a warm, rolling chuckle that he hadn't expected to find just now. "I suppose it is," he said easily, before giving a wordless noise and tapping again at his glass. "To answer your earlier question, I clearly came back through the bridge again," he said needlessly. "Optimus arrived shortly afterwards, controlled by some sort of interference with our badges."
He was tempted to look away, but he did not. "When he was freed and we spoke again afterwards, he told me that he had lied to me through omission about... quite a few things. But the one that sticks out to me the most are the pit fights."
Megatron accepted the bottle, and took a swig from it before passing it back. "My decepticons that have not chosen to join GHOST or be imprisoned starve, on Earth. The pit fights are one way to... earn a ration of energon, it-"
This time he did look away, trailing off into silence. He was thinking of how he himself had spent the bulk of his early life on the precipice of starvation, and how he had allowed it to perpetuated on those who had trusted him.
This time, he doesn't call it a skill issue. Megatron falls silent as he is, apparently, confided in, and listens with a vaguely cocked head. Fighting Optimus while controlled by something else, that he can understand, but the rest of it...
His optic narrows and he tilts his head a little more. "The Autobots-- do they control these fights?"
Megatron shook his head immediately. "Not a bad place to start from. But outside of someone motivated purely by hatred and thus unpredictable? There would be little benefit to any autobot, and one of their own named Grimlock was caught up in it, in any case. No."
"The true cause was apparently a human motivated by that hated I mentioned earlier. Mandroid. If I had to guess, his goal was twofold: advance his goals of wiping out all Cybertronian life on Earth, and to collect our parts to add to his own body."
His expression immediately curdles in distaste at it all, though whether it's the fights, humans being involved or anything in the last sentence that Megatron says isn't clear. Possibly all of the above. Definitely maybe thinking about how obnoxious the Grimlock from his own reality would be about freeing innocents from the pits-- he'd be right to, but he'd definitely be insufferable about it. The irony isn't lost, surprisingly.
"Getting his parts and reminding us all of how wonderful everything was back before the war. How industrious," He says blandly, but his expression is still pinched in distaste. "If the Autobots had no stake in it, why on Cybertron did the Prime hide it from you?"
He can think of several reasons, none of which reflect too favourably on Optimus, but-- he's not the one who should be theorising at the moment.
Megatron finally looked away. "He was attempting to investigate GHOST as well as our more obvious enemy, and was afraid that any reaction I might have had to the situation would have broadcast his intentions," he said down at the table with a twist of his mouth that was an attempt at his usual harmless smile.
He keyed in another order of his own drinks, and when they arrived almost before he was done ordering them, he threw back the first of the cubes.
That's all he says at first. Megatron pours another for himself, but the three bottles disappear into his subspace after a moment.
Whenever his counterpart reaches for another cube, Megatron puts a hand over it and pulls it back. He thinks this could probably spiral very quickly and has no interest in being a part of it.
"You will find no comfort for this betrayal at the bottom of these cubes," He says slowly. "Do you think he was right?"
Megatron's optics brightened as they focused on that hand, before dimming rapidly again. "I would like to think that he was wrong. I would not have survived millions of years of command if I was as big a fool as to fall for such an obvious trap."
He looked down at and through the sprawl of his own hands upon the tabletop, smooth and unblemished from the recent repairs instead of bearing any number of scars. "But then I remember what it felt like to hear about those pit fights," he said in an easy, relaxed tone, "and I am no longer certain."
He watches his counterpart for a long few moments, expression neutral.
"And yet you did survive millions of years of command by not being the kind of fool to fall for a trap like that." Megatron knocks back half his own drink. "For better or worse."
It's a difficult one, as kneejerk violence is what they're known for, and they both know it-- look at what happened when the Terran disappeared. Look at all the times he's been in the brig himself, and not many of them for a good reason. Megatron doesn't land on a solid answer as it's not his place and he doesn't care to, but; "You are not wrong to doubt his motivations in keeping this from you."
Megatron dragged a hand down his face, and let it fall back down to the tabletop afterwards. "I failed the decepticons through my own actions and my own choices again and again," he said heavily. "Before and during the war, and I was hardly uninvolved in the decisions made once I joined Optimus and the others in the hopes of saving what remained of our race once the space bridge was destroyed. I had just been foolish or optimistic enough to hope that..."
He trailed off for a moment with a strange expression that was torn between a grimace and a wince, and then shook his head. "I am already thought of as a traitor to my own kind. I suppose I had hoped that those I made those choices with trusted me enough to make a choice again that could easily go wrong, not knowing where it would lead."
"Would that it be so simple," he says with a sigh, crossing his arms in front of him. "But, I understand. I failed and abandoned my Decepticons enough that it seems they were only able to progress when I was... permanently removed from the picture."
Which is regrettable, but sometimes he wonders if it was inevitable. At any rate, it is what it is. He is, a little selfishly, just glad that he was never trapped on Earth.
"This is not an incorrect assumption to have, I don't think. Optimus - any Optimus - is very fond of his talk of working together and overcoming all the nonsense as a united front."
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no subject
He reaches for the menu to tap in his order as he barks this out, then taps the patch over his right optic. "Oh, yes. It seems like our third member managed to avoid it this time. Disappointing; I think losing a limb would do him a bit of good. Not that I'd be the one who would happily flush it out an airlock."
Megatron puts the menu back, having put in his usual. Robot vodka, straight. He seems slightly spirited as he speaks, almost like he's happy for the company.
"At the very least, the library remained unbombed, so thank Primus and none of his useless Primes for that." He crosses his arms on the table, looking at whatever decoration the organic bartender put out on the tables this month. "You've had a go on the space bridge revolving door."
It's a bland statement, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't leading.
no subject
He lowered it back down onto the table. "I did," he confirmed, "though I do not remember all of it with clarity. Whether it is due to its feeling to me like it was millions of years ago, or the more typical explanation of my over-reliance on omniglobes during my flavor of the war."
He absently tapped a finger on his glass. "One of the side effects is degradation of the areas of your professor that have to do with memory. My long-term recall has been unreliable ever since."
no subject
"Sounds like a skill issue to me," He snorts, knowing better than to think too hard about the implications of frying out one's own processor.
no subject
He was tempted to look away, but he did not. "When he was freed and we spoke again afterwards, he told me that he had lied to me through omission about... quite a few things. But the one that sticks out to me the most are the pit fights."
Megatron accepted the bottle, and took a swig from it before passing it back. "My decepticons that have not chosen to join GHOST or be imprisoned starve, on Earth. The pit fights are one way to... earn a ration of energon, it-"
This time he did look away, trailing off into silence. He was thinking of how he himself had spent the bulk of his early life on the precipice of starvation, and how he had allowed it to perpetuated on those who had trusted him.
His fuel pump turned over.
no subject
His optic narrows and he tilts his head a little more. "The Autobots-- do they control these fights?"
no subject
"The true cause was apparently a human motivated by that hated I mentioned earlier. Mandroid. If I had to guess, his goal was twofold: advance his goals of wiping out all Cybertronian life on Earth, and to collect our parts to add to his own body."
no subject
"Getting his parts and reminding us all of how wonderful everything was back before the war. How industrious," He says blandly, but his expression is still pinched in distaste. "If the Autobots had no stake in it, why on Cybertron did the Prime hide it from you?"
He can think of several reasons, none of which reflect too favourably on Optimus, but-- he's not the one who should be theorising at the moment.
no subject
He keyed in another order of his own drinks, and when they arrived almost before he was done ordering them, he threw back the first of the cubes.
no subject
That's all he says at first. Megatron pours another for himself, but the three bottles disappear into his subspace after a moment.
Whenever his counterpart reaches for another cube, Megatron puts a hand over it and pulls it back. He thinks this could probably spiral very quickly and has no interest in being a part of it.
"You will find no comfort for this betrayal at the bottom of these cubes," He says slowly. "Do you think he was right?"
no subject
He looked down at and through the sprawl of his own hands upon the tabletop, smooth and unblemished from the recent repairs instead of bearing any number of scars. "But then I remember what it felt like to hear about those pit fights," he said in an easy, relaxed tone, "and I am no longer certain."
no subject
"And yet you did survive millions of years of command by not being the kind of fool to fall for a trap like that." Megatron knocks back half his own drink. "For better or worse."
It's a difficult one, as kneejerk violence is what they're known for, and they both know it-- look at what happened when the Terran disappeared. Look at all the times he's been in the brig himself, and not many of them for a good reason. Megatron doesn't land on a solid answer as it's not his place and he doesn't care to, but; "You are not wrong to doubt his motivations in keeping this from you."
no subject
He trailed off for a moment with a strange expression that was torn between a grimace and a wince, and then shook his head. "I am already thought of as a traitor to my own kind. I suppose I had hoped that those I made those choices with trusted me enough to make a choice again that could easily go wrong, not knowing where it would lead."
no subject
Which is regrettable, but sometimes he wonders if it was inevitable. At any rate, it is what it is. He is, a little selfishly, just glad that he was never trapped on Earth.
"This is not an incorrect assumption to have, I don't think. Optimus - any Optimus - is very fond of his talk of working together and overcoming all the nonsense as a united front."