[Bay] Insoluble - Part Two
Jan. 11th, 2015 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: So this one got to me. But it had to be done. Mind the warnings. Oh, and self-beta'd.
Title: Insoluble, Part Two
Universe: Bayverse, pre-films, Indivisible
Characters: MegatronxSunstreaker
Rating: R
Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death
Description: He loves Optimus and he hates him and Megatron can see only one way to reconcile this.
“Show them,” Megatron growls as the Seekers announce the call to battle above them.
He looks into the blue optics of his gold lover, grips his jaw with careful talons, and presses their forehelms together. Sunstreaker quivers with battle-lust, his swords already extended, shimmering with heat in the charged atmosphere.
“And when you return,” Megatron adds, drawing a drop of energon with his thumb. “I will take your spark.”
A full-frame shiver dances over golden plating. Sunstreaker jerks his helm and captures Megatron's thumb with his mouth, denta biting at his talon.
“Oh, the promises you make,” he purrs and tears away, whirling fast and sharp on those wheeled pedes of his, a trait the twin-brothers share.
Megatron stands, his army ahead and behind him, and watches Sunstreaker take his rightful place on the front lines. Megatron will join him soon enough. He can see his own prey in the distance, weak and guarded by a phalanx of warbuild traitors.
They protect him as they do their noble Senate, their useless council.
And Optimus will fall as they have.
For Megatron to keep an optic on Sunstreaker in the midst of battle is an insult to his golden partner's skill. Sunstreaker is not worthy of his Decepticon badge if he can't protect himself. And Megatron has seen him in battle.
He has full faith in Sunstreaker.
This battle is key. Pivotal. Megatron needs a victory here if he intends to win this war. They cannot afford to lose. The Decepticons have attacked in full force and the Autobots have responded in kind, pathetic though it may be.
The clash of bot against bot is music to Megatron's audials. The ground rumbles with the tread of thousands of Cybertronians and ordinance. The air is rank with smoke and ash and spilt energon.
He takes Soundwave and Barricade as he cuts through the Autobot army for their vaunted leader. He has optics for Optimus alone. And he doesn't need them to find his brother. He need only follow the pull on his spark, the nonverbal calling.
He comes optic to optic with his former general, the traitor, and Megatron growls, Ironhide falling to his onslaught.
“I taught you all you know!” Megatron roars at the beaten pile of spare parts, twitching in his wake, energon staining the plain.
And then there is nothing between himself and Optimus, the other guards occupied by Megatron's own allies.
Optimus is small and weak, but he doesn't cower. At least he has the pride to stand firm, to draw his sword however unskilled he holds it. Megatron can see evidence of Ironhide in Optimus' frame.
So they seek to teach a scientist to fight? And how unwilling has he been to learn, Megatron wonders.
“We meet at last,” he says.
“Megatron, can we not cease this?” Optimus asks, ever the peace maker. Ever the talker even long after words no longer suffice.
Megatron shakes his helm. “We have passed such things, brother.” And the pain, it consumes him.
The push-pull, the strike-yield. His frame trembles. His plating clatters. His vision fills with static and the world is at once too loud and too silent.
He loves Optimus and he hates him and Megatron can see only one way to reconcile this. He attacks and Optimus is lucky enough to dodge the first blow. He has always been a nimble mech and now is no exception.
Agility is not enough to save him. He is prey and Megatron is predator and a single misstep causes Optimus to be pinned beneath Megatron, subject to an onslaught of blows. He can hear his vents wheezing heat. He can feel each blow, the metal buckling under his fists. He isn't firing his cannon, finds no reason to do so.
He can hear Optimus gasping, the static cries and reminders. His spark is screaming with agony and there's a shouting in his audials. There is a relentless pinging, a shriek in his processor.
And then impact. Something crashes into Megatron, sending him tumbling backward. He grapples with his new opponent, tearing with talons and denta, snarling. There is a blur of plating and crushing blows. By the time Megatron works his way free, throwing his assailants in opposite directions, it is clear they are only a distraction.
A rotary is streaking into the distance and Optimus is nowhere in sight. Megatron roars his anger.
This is far from over.
The truth, however, is clear. The Autobots have called a retreat. But so, Megatron comes to learn, have the Decepticons. This is, at best, a stalemate.
There is always tomorrow.
But he has dearly underestimated how viciously love-turned-hate can poison.
Soundwave is the one who tells him, as Megatron is sloughing his way through bullet-pocked frames and pools of energon. The coordinates ping on Megatron's HUD and he follows them, a pathetically short distance away.
Laserbeak stands guard over the broken frame. There is worry, even now, of scavengers.
“Leave,” Megatron growls.
The casseticon squawks and takes off, a fog of ash rising in the wake of wings.
And Megatron is alone as he drops to his knees, as he reaches with energon-stained talons for the limp gold frame. Sunstreaker is far less damaged than Megatron would have expected, but the evidence of an energon blade lays in thick, black stripes across his armor, marring the once perfect paint.
He would have been furious.
Megatron traces the lengths of them, a lifetime spent in battle telling him the story of the fight. No, the duel. Because this could only be Sideswipe's work.
This strike here, luck. This jab here, anger. This slash here, desperation. This hesitant scrape... regret.
Megatron's hand rests on Sunstreaker's chestplate, where the gaping wound is testament to the final blow. The one that prevented any hope of a medic proving himself a miracle. He doesn't have to scan to know that there isn't a trace of spark energy.
He bows his helm and offlines his optics.
Words are not Megatron's forte. Not for situations like this. His spark aches and in this moment, it speaks nothing of Optimus. His brotherbetrayertwin is far from his thoughts.
He sits in silence. Feels the ash-choked airflows against his plating. Listens to the dim noise of clean up. Feels Soundwave's regard, from a distance, waiting.
“We should have been free,” Megatron murmurs at last, his other hand allowing a final caress to Sunstreaker's helm. “But you, at least, precede me in it.”
He scoops Sunstreaker's frame into his arms and pushes to his pedes, refusing to allow his gold lover to be another statistic. Another casualty to the Senate's might.
It is, however, another crime to add to Optimus' tally.
He will pay for this, Megatron vows, his hands tightening in their grip. He has nothing left to lose.
***
a/n: There are at least five more parts to this. I'm working hard to get them done.
As always, feedback is most welcome and appreciated.
Title: Insoluble, Part Two
Universe: Bayverse, pre-films, Indivisible
Characters: MegatronxSunstreaker
Rating: R
Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death
Description: He loves Optimus and he hates him and Megatron can see only one way to reconcile this.
“Show them,” Megatron growls as the Seekers announce the call to battle above them.
He looks into the blue optics of his gold lover, grips his jaw with careful talons, and presses their forehelms together. Sunstreaker quivers with battle-lust, his swords already extended, shimmering with heat in the charged atmosphere.
“And when you return,” Megatron adds, drawing a drop of energon with his thumb. “I will take your spark.”
A full-frame shiver dances over golden plating. Sunstreaker jerks his helm and captures Megatron's thumb with his mouth, denta biting at his talon.
“Oh, the promises you make,” he purrs and tears away, whirling fast and sharp on those wheeled pedes of his, a trait the twin-brothers share.
Megatron stands, his army ahead and behind him, and watches Sunstreaker take his rightful place on the front lines. Megatron will join him soon enough. He can see his own prey in the distance, weak and guarded by a phalanx of warbuild traitors.
They protect him as they do their noble Senate, their useless council.
And Optimus will fall as they have.
For Megatron to keep an optic on Sunstreaker in the midst of battle is an insult to his golden partner's skill. Sunstreaker is not worthy of his Decepticon badge if he can't protect himself. And Megatron has seen him in battle.
He has full faith in Sunstreaker.
This battle is key. Pivotal. Megatron needs a victory here if he intends to win this war. They cannot afford to lose. The Decepticons have attacked in full force and the Autobots have responded in kind, pathetic though it may be.
The clash of bot against bot is music to Megatron's audials. The ground rumbles with the tread of thousands of Cybertronians and ordinance. The air is rank with smoke and ash and spilt energon.
He takes Soundwave and Barricade as he cuts through the Autobot army for their vaunted leader. He has optics for Optimus alone. And he doesn't need them to find his brother. He need only follow the pull on his spark, the nonverbal calling.
He comes optic to optic with his former general, the traitor, and Megatron growls, Ironhide falling to his onslaught.
“I taught you all you know!” Megatron roars at the beaten pile of spare parts, twitching in his wake, energon staining the plain.
And then there is nothing between himself and Optimus, the other guards occupied by Megatron's own allies.
Optimus is small and weak, but he doesn't cower. At least he has the pride to stand firm, to draw his sword however unskilled he holds it. Megatron can see evidence of Ironhide in Optimus' frame.
So they seek to teach a scientist to fight? And how unwilling has he been to learn, Megatron wonders.
“We meet at last,” he says.
“Megatron, can we not cease this?” Optimus asks, ever the peace maker. Ever the talker even long after words no longer suffice.
Megatron shakes his helm. “We have passed such things, brother.” And the pain, it consumes him.
The push-pull, the strike-yield. His frame trembles. His plating clatters. His vision fills with static and the world is at once too loud and too silent.
He loves Optimus and he hates him and Megatron can see only one way to reconcile this. He attacks and Optimus is lucky enough to dodge the first blow. He has always been a nimble mech and now is no exception.
Agility is not enough to save him. He is prey and Megatron is predator and a single misstep causes Optimus to be pinned beneath Megatron, subject to an onslaught of blows. He can hear his vents wheezing heat. He can feel each blow, the metal buckling under his fists. He isn't firing his cannon, finds no reason to do so.
He can hear Optimus gasping, the static cries and reminders. His spark is screaming with agony and there's a shouting in his audials. There is a relentless pinging, a shriek in his processor.
And then impact. Something crashes into Megatron, sending him tumbling backward. He grapples with his new opponent, tearing with talons and denta, snarling. There is a blur of plating and crushing blows. By the time Megatron works his way free, throwing his assailants in opposite directions, it is clear they are only a distraction.
A rotary is streaking into the distance and Optimus is nowhere in sight. Megatron roars his anger.
This is far from over.
The truth, however, is clear. The Autobots have called a retreat. But so, Megatron comes to learn, have the Decepticons. This is, at best, a stalemate.
There is always tomorrow.
But he has dearly underestimated how viciously love-turned-hate can poison.
Soundwave is the one who tells him, as Megatron is sloughing his way through bullet-pocked frames and pools of energon. The coordinates ping on Megatron's HUD and he follows them, a pathetically short distance away.
Laserbeak stands guard over the broken frame. There is worry, even now, of scavengers.
“Leave,” Megatron growls.
The casseticon squawks and takes off, a fog of ash rising in the wake of wings.
And Megatron is alone as he drops to his knees, as he reaches with energon-stained talons for the limp gold frame. Sunstreaker is far less damaged than Megatron would have expected, but the evidence of an energon blade lays in thick, black stripes across his armor, marring the once perfect paint.
He would have been furious.
Megatron traces the lengths of them, a lifetime spent in battle telling him the story of the fight. No, the duel. Because this could only be Sideswipe's work.
This strike here, luck. This jab here, anger. This slash here, desperation. This hesitant scrape... regret.
Megatron's hand rests on Sunstreaker's chestplate, where the gaping wound is testament to the final blow. The one that prevented any hope of a medic proving himself a miracle. He doesn't have to scan to know that there isn't a trace of spark energy.
He bows his helm and offlines his optics.
Words are not Megatron's forte. Not for situations like this. His spark aches and in this moment, it speaks nothing of Optimus. His brotherbetrayertwin is far from his thoughts.
He sits in silence. Feels the ash-choked airflows against his plating. Listens to the dim noise of clean up. Feels Soundwave's regard, from a distance, waiting.
“We should have been free,” Megatron murmurs at last, his other hand allowing a final caress to Sunstreaker's helm. “But you, at least, precede me in it.”
He scoops Sunstreaker's frame into his arms and pushes to his pedes, refusing to allow his gold lover to be another statistic. Another casualty to the Senate's might.
It is, however, another crime to add to Optimus' tally.
He will pay for this, Megatron vows, his hands tightening in their grip. He has nothing left to lose.
a/n: There are at least five more parts to this. I'm working hard to get them done.
As always, feedback is most welcome and appreciated.
