The Bet

Megatron inwardly growled, half-listening to Shockwave and Lugnut once again argue over certain points of the current plans. Also sitting at the long table, and discussing their next moves against the Autobots, were Starscream, Soundwave, Blitzwing, Strika – and the silver mech's mate, Slipstream . . . to his agitation.

Oh, don't get him wrong; he loved her.

However, they certainly weren't free of conflict. Such as the frequent times during war meetings or hastily-thought-out strategies just cycles before a sudden mission that Slipstream would challenge Megatron's decisions. And it annoyed him.

Apparently many of his plans lacked thorough examination of the situation at hand and the chosen vantage points for an ambush were "inadequate". Some of the chosen soldiers weren't capable enough. He focused on taking advantage of the wrong resources found on Earth. And he consistently misjudged his opponents which led to "guaranteed failure" – or so it was according to Slipstream.

Megatron couldn't stand it anymore. While he had no trouble displaying his annoyance whenever Slipstream spoke up, none of the others objected, wondering how their leader may react. He didn't know who the slag she thought she was and what authority she held just because they were mates. He was the leader of the Decepticons – and hers too. And he had to re-establish that.

The silver mech scanned the room with bored optics, seeing that his two lieutenants still weren't at an agreement. Why couldn't his mate shut them up? Then an idea began to form.

Megatron sat up straight, trying to seem intent on Lugnut's and Shockwave's bickering. After a while he finally spoke up, catching the attention of everyone in the room, "I propose we take a direct assault onto the local dams. Split into two groups, one can ambush the controls of the facility while the other distracts any Autobots –"

"And how do you propose you'll manage to churn out the energy?"

'Right on queue,' he thought, optic slightly twitching.

With a small edge in his tone Megatron replied, "From what we've learned the dam would require a massive force to churn the water – such as an earthquake –"

"Because we're completely capable of such a feat," said Slipstream sarcastically. "Raiding a primitive dam is a waste of time and energy."

"Then I suppose you have a better idea? I'm all audio receptors for whatever superior plan you must have in store for us."

"Actually, yes."

Truth be told Megatron wasn't expecting a rebuttal. Sometimes Slipstream would suggest some alternatives, but most of the time she only criticized his plots. Well, no matter, this would only help with the idea he had in mind.

"Ambushing a number of oil rigs provides more space for immediate attack and departure. Their simple perimeter allows us to form a defensive line against the Autobots – if they can even reach us depending on the terrain that surrounds the rigs."

"Care to explain how non-fliers such as Soundwave – our main producer for energon cubes – may be able to reach and work with certain rigs? As far as we're aware all the locals are surrounded by water." And then there was awkward silence. Everyone else in the room looked uneasy, save for Starscream, who seemed to be enjoying the argument.

Slipstream looked like she had an answer, but Megatron spoke suddenly, "I propose a bet."

"Um . . . what?" was all Slipstream said in response. Everyone else in the room exchanged confused glances, and then looked to their leader for an explanation.

"A bet, my dear," the silver mech repeated, smiling smugly at her. "Considering how many times you've questioned my decisions, let's see who's better capable for this, shall we?"

Slipstream raised an optic-ridge. "Go on."

"We'll see whose plan is far more successful. If yours is, I'll forfeit my leadership for a certain amount of time – and you can replace me." The others' optics widened, though Slipstream was the most surprised by Megatron's offer.

"You're serious?"

Megatron nodded. "You're so confident in your own decisions; I thought perhaps you may actually –"

"I never said that. Though I never took you as one who gambles."

"Only when my chances are high."

"We'll see about that." However the femme hesitated. ". . . and if you somehow win?"

Slipstream scowled murderously at the mech she called a mate. Of course the slagger just sat there smugly, relishing in his victory. Separately the two plans were put into action – and just guess which one became successful? How was it even possible to churn the dam, anyway? Fragging humans and their primitive technology . . .

It also ticked Slipstream off to see Megatron sitting in a lax position on his damn throne. "Why so angry, my dear?" he asked, "You're the one who agreed to the bet."

Not only was Slipstream denied a rather promising opportunity . . . but Megatron's terms just made it worse.

She really didn't understand the mech's terms at first, but now she just regretted the whole thing. The femme stood at his side, fists clenched, wearing what was apparently some sort of "maid's outfit" – or whatever it's called. Now for at least an Earth month she had to respect her part of the bargain as some fragging servant.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"I love you too," Megatron replied.