[Animated] Progress
Dec. 30th, 2014 05:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: While I'm not completely recovered, I am at least capable of sitting at my computer for short periods of time. Thus, an update. Enjoy!
Title: Progress
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Shockwave, Optimus, Slipstream
Warnings: None
Description: Shockwave and Megatron are up to no good.
“Is the uplink working?”
“Yes, Lord Megatron. I am receiving timely updates and downloads on a continuous basis.”
Megatron fights back a grin, leaning back in his chair and steepling his talons together. “Good. Will it serve it's purpose?”
“Undoubtedly. However, I do caution you. There is some data I won't be able to acquire without a direct link.”
“Which will not be happening.”
“Of course.” Shockwave dips his helm in service, optic dimming. “If I may, Lord Megatron, if you intend to sway the Autobot to our side, why give me access to his systems?”
Megatron does grin this time. “Because I have learned the importance of an alternative source. Optimus will be a Decepticon. But those codes will serve us the sooner the better. How long?”
Shockwave's image fizzles with static for a moment before it clarifies. “That depends on how often he uses the console.”
That is quite fortunate. Because Optimus uses that console every spare moment he has, that is when he's not training with Megatron. And speaking of...
“Good. Inform me when you have something we can use.” Megatron rises to his pedes, rolling his shoulders. “I am late for an engagement.”
“Yes, Lord Megatron.” The screen fills with static and then goes dark. Signal lost. Not that there's a remote chance of any Autobot hacking and carrying the signal.
All is going perfectly to plan, Megatron ruminates as he leaves his personal quarters and heads for the training arena. They are on course for Cybertron, arriving at a leisurely pace per his orders, and even as he struts, his Decepticons are slipping in past Autobot borders, taking up position.
The Autobots will see the Decepticons attack. Ultra Magnus will rise to thwart Megatron's advance.
They will not be prepared to have their pedes swept out from under them. Nor will they be prepared for the sight of their presumed-dead Prime, standing at Megatron's side. Megatron can succeed without the latter, but his victory will be all the sweeter for it.
Optimus needs only the right nudge. And training him is laying the groundwork.
By the time he arrives at the training arena, Optimus has found another sparring partner. A surprise, albeit a welcome one. There is much Optimus can learn from Slipstream, though Megatron wagers the Seeker-clone has a hidden agenda.
She knows better than to damage something Megatron has claimed, but that doesn't mean she won't walk the fine line.
Megatron keeps to the shadows and watches, evaluating Optimus for improvement. There has been some. His technical skills have increased by leaps and bounds. Though Megatron has been forced to bark at him on more than one occasion to stop thinking so much and start relying on his instincts. That seems to be the most difficult lesson for the Prime to grasp.
He shows promise, of this Megatron is certain. A few more sessions and he should be able to take on any of the clones without issue. Soon after, Megatron can start arranging a few lessons with Blitzwing or Lugnut, provided either of the two are available.
A muffled thump signals the end of the match as Slipstream hits the mat with a snarl and finds herself pinned, Optimus pinching the tip of one wing between his fingers.
“You got lucky,” she hisses.
Optimus inclines his helm. “I am lucky quite often, I've learned.”
Slipstream bears her denta.
Megatron steps into view, a rumble in his engine all the warning he needs give. Her optics shift his direction before she rolls out from under Optimus and to her pedes, wings stiff and raised behind her.
“Lord Megatron.”
He flicks a hand toward her. “Dismissed.”
She says nothing, proving already that she is smarter than her spark donor, and leaves. Megatron is certain he'll hear of this later. He'll indulge her if only to prove his point.
“Watching long?” Optimus asks, frowning as he examines a dent on his right forearm. Compared to the rest of the scuffs on his frame, it's negligible.
Megatron's optics cycle down. “You need a repaint.”
“You don't have my color.”
Megatron offers a crooked smirk. “Perhaps it is time for a change.”
“Not likely.” Optimus displays a remarkable amount of confidence as he strides toward Megatron. “Did you come here to stare or did you have something of use to offer?”
He arches an orbital ridge. “You're getting confident.”
Optimus makes a noncommittal noise. “I'm learning the value of patience.”
Megatron slides into a defensive stance. “You took down Slipstream,” he says, planting his pedes. “It seems you aren't a complete waste of time.”
Optimus' battle mask slides closed with a defining snick, his optics narrowing. “For someone so concerned about time, you're stalling.”
There's a lengthy beat before Megatron laughs. The gall! But the confidence, he reasons, is just that much more appealing.
He launches himself at Optimus, giving no sign of his intentions. There is the briefest flare of surprise before Optimus falls back, swiveling to avoid the first blow. For today, they keep weapons out of combat training. Which is unfortunate for Optimus because Megatron might as well be a living weapon. He has never needed the fusion canon to settle a dispute.
It does, however, make for a slagging fine point.
Optimus dances just out of reach, his optics a brighter hue as it gets when he's thinking too hard and not reacting. Megatron has found this the most difficult aspect of Optimus' personality. Though he is not averse to taking advantage of it.
Megatron attacks, executing a flurry of blows that leave no room for defending and force Optimus to avoid rather than deflect. He all but chases Optimus around the arena, waiting for the Prime to stumble, to react.
Instead, Megatron gets in several strikes. He dents Optimus' side, his thigh, his forearm. He cracks a windshield and bends an audial. Optimus' hiss of pain at the latter is less a cause for amusement than it is for frustration.
“I do not think you are even trying,” Megatron snarls as once again, Optimus absorbs a blow he should have dodged, the backhand rattling hard against his shoulder.
The Prime's engine growls an angry sound. His pedes scrape against the mat. His field escapes his control, lashing with frustration.
It is a good look for him. Megatron smirks.
Optimus aims a wild swing. Megatron ducks and snatches at his wrist, capturing it before Optimus can withdraw. He turns the Prime's own momentum against him, carrying through with the pivotal force to flip Optimus aft over helm, landing with a thud on the mat. Megatron plants one pede on the Prime's chestplate, right between those useless windshields.
Optimus grunts, twitching beneath Megatron, but he outweighs the Autobot by half. Optimus will not move any further than Megatron allows him.
“I find it curious,” Megatron begins, tilting his helm to the side, “that you can spar with Slipstream with little trouble, but lose your focus when it comes to me. Why is that, I wonder?”
Optimus' optics darken, though the battlemask leaves his expression hidden. It can't, however, hide the frazzled spike in his field. “Maybe you are not as good a teacher as you think you are.”
Megatron delivers a fanged smirk. “Perhaps I have a poor student.” He pauses, letting Optimus' chestplate bear a fraction more weight, creaking beneath his pede, before he draws back.
He reaches down, offering the Prime a hand. He expects Optimus to rebuff him, as he always does, and is pleasantly surprised when Optimus reaches back. He hauls the Prime to his pedes, their frames close enough to share heated ventilations. Though Optimus has to tilt his helm back to look Megatron in the optics.
“Am I a waste of your time?” the Prime asks.
“Not yet, you aren't.” Megatron releases the Prime, sending him a few steps backward. “Again. But this time, concentrate. I'll make you useful yet.”
He expects a rebuttal. But again, he is surprised. Optimus does not refute Megatron's claim. His optics brighten, his frame slides into one of the stances he has recently learned, but he does not argue.
Perhaps they are making progress after all.
****
a/n: Poor Optimus guessed that gift had strings but he could have never guessed how much. Naughty Shockwave and Megatron! And why is it, I wonder Optimus can't concentrate around Megatron? Hm? Heh.
Hope you enjoyed! Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
Next time, we see Optimus try to befriend some Decepticons and we bring in some new faces. Huzzah!
Title: Progress
Universe: TFA, The Art of Self-Destruction
Characters: Megatron, Shockwave, Optimus, Slipstream
Warnings: None
Description: Shockwave and Megatron are up to no good.
“Is the uplink working?”
“Yes, Lord Megatron. I am receiving timely updates and downloads on a continuous basis.”
Megatron fights back a grin, leaning back in his chair and steepling his talons together. “Good. Will it serve it's purpose?”
“Undoubtedly. However, I do caution you. There is some data I won't be able to acquire without a direct link.”
“Which will not be happening.”
“Of course.” Shockwave dips his helm in service, optic dimming. “If I may, Lord Megatron, if you intend to sway the Autobot to our side, why give me access to his systems?”
Megatron does grin this time. “Because I have learned the importance of an alternative source. Optimus will be a Decepticon. But those codes will serve us the sooner the better. How long?”
Shockwave's image fizzles with static for a moment before it clarifies. “That depends on how often he uses the console.”
That is quite fortunate. Because Optimus uses that console every spare moment he has, that is when he's not training with Megatron. And speaking of...
“Good. Inform me when you have something we can use.” Megatron rises to his pedes, rolling his shoulders. “I am late for an engagement.”
“Yes, Lord Megatron.” The screen fills with static and then goes dark. Signal lost. Not that there's a remote chance of any Autobot hacking and carrying the signal.
All is going perfectly to plan, Megatron ruminates as he leaves his personal quarters and heads for the training arena. They are on course for Cybertron, arriving at a leisurely pace per his orders, and even as he struts, his Decepticons are slipping in past Autobot borders, taking up position.
The Autobots will see the Decepticons attack. Ultra Magnus will rise to thwart Megatron's advance.
They will not be prepared to have their pedes swept out from under them. Nor will they be prepared for the sight of their presumed-dead Prime, standing at Megatron's side. Megatron can succeed without the latter, but his victory will be all the sweeter for it.
Optimus needs only the right nudge. And training him is laying the groundwork.
By the time he arrives at the training arena, Optimus has found another sparring partner. A surprise, albeit a welcome one. There is much Optimus can learn from Slipstream, though Megatron wagers the Seeker-clone has a hidden agenda.
She knows better than to damage something Megatron has claimed, but that doesn't mean she won't walk the fine line.
Megatron keeps to the shadows and watches, evaluating Optimus for improvement. There has been some. His technical skills have increased by leaps and bounds. Though Megatron has been forced to bark at him on more than one occasion to stop thinking so much and start relying on his instincts. That seems to be the most difficult lesson for the Prime to grasp.
He shows promise, of this Megatron is certain. A few more sessions and he should be able to take on any of the clones without issue. Soon after, Megatron can start arranging a few lessons with Blitzwing or Lugnut, provided either of the two are available.
A muffled thump signals the end of the match as Slipstream hits the mat with a snarl and finds herself pinned, Optimus pinching the tip of one wing between his fingers.
“You got lucky,” she hisses.
Optimus inclines his helm. “I am lucky quite often, I've learned.”
Slipstream bears her denta.
Megatron steps into view, a rumble in his engine all the warning he needs give. Her optics shift his direction before she rolls out from under Optimus and to her pedes, wings stiff and raised behind her.
“Lord Megatron.”
He flicks a hand toward her. “Dismissed.”
She says nothing, proving already that she is smarter than her spark donor, and leaves. Megatron is certain he'll hear of this later. He'll indulge her if only to prove his point.
“Watching long?” Optimus asks, frowning as he examines a dent on his right forearm. Compared to the rest of the scuffs on his frame, it's negligible.
Megatron's optics cycle down. “You need a repaint.”
“You don't have my color.”
Megatron offers a crooked smirk. “Perhaps it is time for a change.”
“Not likely.” Optimus displays a remarkable amount of confidence as he strides toward Megatron. “Did you come here to stare or did you have something of use to offer?”
He arches an orbital ridge. “You're getting confident.”
Optimus makes a noncommittal noise. “I'm learning the value of patience.”
Megatron slides into a defensive stance. “You took down Slipstream,” he says, planting his pedes. “It seems you aren't a complete waste of time.”
Optimus' battle mask slides closed with a defining snick, his optics narrowing. “For someone so concerned about time, you're stalling.”
There's a lengthy beat before Megatron laughs. The gall! But the confidence, he reasons, is just that much more appealing.
He launches himself at Optimus, giving no sign of his intentions. There is the briefest flare of surprise before Optimus falls back, swiveling to avoid the first blow. For today, they keep weapons out of combat training. Which is unfortunate for Optimus because Megatron might as well be a living weapon. He has never needed the fusion canon to settle a dispute.
It does, however, make for a slagging fine point.
Optimus dances just out of reach, his optics a brighter hue as it gets when he's thinking too hard and not reacting. Megatron has found this the most difficult aspect of Optimus' personality. Though he is not averse to taking advantage of it.
Megatron attacks, executing a flurry of blows that leave no room for defending and force Optimus to avoid rather than deflect. He all but chases Optimus around the arena, waiting for the Prime to stumble, to react.
Instead, Megatron gets in several strikes. He dents Optimus' side, his thigh, his forearm. He cracks a windshield and bends an audial. Optimus' hiss of pain at the latter is less a cause for amusement than it is for frustration.
“I do not think you are even trying,” Megatron snarls as once again, Optimus absorbs a blow he should have dodged, the backhand rattling hard against his shoulder.
The Prime's engine growls an angry sound. His pedes scrape against the mat. His field escapes his control, lashing with frustration.
It is a good look for him. Megatron smirks.
Optimus aims a wild swing. Megatron ducks and snatches at his wrist, capturing it before Optimus can withdraw. He turns the Prime's own momentum against him, carrying through with the pivotal force to flip Optimus aft over helm, landing with a thud on the mat. Megatron plants one pede on the Prime's chestplate, right between those useless windshields.
Optimus grunts, twitching beneath Megatron, but he outweighs the Autobot by half. Optimus will not move any further than Megatron allows him.
“I find it curious,” Megatron begins, tilting his helm to the side, “that you can spar with Slipstream with little trouble, but lose your focus when it comes to me. Why is that, I wonder?”
Optimus' optics darken, though the battlemask leaves his expression hidden. It can't, however, hide the frazzled spike in his field. “Maybe you are not as good a teacher as you think you are.”
Megatron delivers a fanged smirk. “Perhaps I have a poor student.” He pauses, letting Optimus' chestplate bear a fraction more weight, creaking beneath his pede, before he draws back.
He reaches down, offering the Prime a hand. He expects Optimus to rebuff him, as he always does, and is pleasantly surprised when Optimus reaches back. He hauls the Prime to his pedes, their frames close enough to share heated ventilations. Though Optimus has to tilt his helm back to look Megatron in the optics.
“Am I a waste of your time?” the Prime asks.
“Not yet, you aren't.” Megatron releases the Prime, sending him a few steps backward. “Again. But this time, concentrate. I'll make you useful yet.”
He expects a rebuttal. But again, he is surprised. Optimus does not refute Megatron's claim. His optics brighten, his frame slides into one of the stances he has recently learned, but he does not argue.
Perhaps they are making progress after all.
a/n: Poor Optimus guessed that gift had strings but he could have never guessed how much. Naughty Shockwave and Megatron! And why is it, I wonder Optimus can't concentrate around Megatron? Hm? Heh.
Hope you enjoyed! Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
Next time, we see Optimus try to befriend some Decepticons and we bring in some new faces. Huzzah!
