Also, I think I was bribed into writing this, but I'm not quite sure... In any event, Loony Megatron and Trying-to-be-Sneaky Cryotek within!
And for those lucky souls-- er, poor unfortunates who have not read my fic "Pity the Child", Slash is my two-second made up pre-Beast Wars name for Dinobot.
"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."
--Luke, 23:34
"Slag you!" The voice was low and pained, fury drawling the words out into nigh incoherent snarls. The speaker tried to push off the floor, his large frame shuddering, curved wings twitching as the cables connected to them strained.
"Alas, I'm quite afraid you cannot," he answered flippantly, watching his mentor struggle before him. "You see, as much as you saw potential in me, you never quite realised how far I was willing to go. Nooo..."
The large mech sneered, clawed hands scraping for leverage on the smooth floor. "Ah, yes, your obsession. Does your crew know? Or are they as loyal to you as they were to me, and you daren't tell them?"
A short laugh, and he knelt besides the prone figure. "Your problem, Cryotek, is that you put too much faith in those who serve you. Leave some room for treachery, and oft their betrayal will work in your favour." He rose. "But then, that was a concept you never seemed to grasp."
"Megatron!" Amber optics flashed in anger, and Cryotek managed to prop himself up, vainly reaching for that one treasure, that one prize, that his dearest student would betray Primus Himself for.
"Oh, yes, you want this as well," Megatron said, innocence and fake surprise rolling off him. He played carelessly with the Golden Disk, considering the blue mechanoid whose mech fluid was turning the floor slippery and iridescent. "Shall I let you touch it? Shall I let you hope against hope that you may grasp it, and thus force me back under your wing? Eh, my teacher...?" A cruel smirk distorted his face.
Claws scraping over the floor, through the mech fluid. "You truly are a twisted one. Who would've known..." If the words had not been spit out, by a voice that were not weak in pain, they might have been conversational.
Megatron playfully threw the Disk into the air, savouring Cryotek's look of horror as it spun wildly, golden beams shooting to and fro as it caught the light. It was effortlessly caught again. "My, Cryotek, but you do look a little on the wan side."
"It won't work, you realise. A crew of five, led by a lunatic with a obsessive revolutionary streak; you'll be dead before you leave Cybertron's outer defences." He wormed his way closer, wincing as the wound in his chest dragged against every small irregularity in the floor. "Let me use it; I can make changes, Megatron, and gain profit, and thus we'll both be happy." The fury gave way to pleading.
"Use it how?!" snarled Megatron suddenly, taking a threatening step towards his teacher. "Blackmail? Holding it for ransom? It could be used for so much more, Cryotek, and you know that!" His words reverberated through the abandoned halls outside of Cryotek's office.
Cryotek looked at flashing magenta optics and powered down his own. "I've lost you to the madness. I see." He pulled himself up by a chair, watching Megatron warily for sign of attack. "So you're going to flip the universe upside down. And then what? We'll all be complete oblivion!"
Megatron watched Cryotek's pained movements coldly, running a finger along the edge of the Disk. "But it is worth it, yeess," he purred, optics brightening as he looked away, enthralled by his own visions. "A galaxy, ruled by the Decepticons, under the iron fist of my namesake." Another smirk crossed his face. "Or the one that dethrones him. Imagine, Cryotek, the honour of our ancestors restored, our people in their rightful place at last!"
"Their people," growled the crime lord defiantly, battling into the chair. "We are not the Decepticons, Megatron. We are wiser, wilier, and better off for it."
"Better off?" asked his student incredulously. "We are oppressed! We are starved in the hopes that we will not revolt!"
"But we're gathering power! Soon, very soon, we'll be able to strike back at them, Megatron; if only you'll stay and aid me, we can make the Predacons rulers of Cybertron, but it'll take time." He settled into the chair, wincing and holding a hand to his wound. "Time and patience. That's all."
"We have no time, nor do I have any more patience for empty promises of salvation," said Megatron curtly, clutching the Disk. Cryotek vaguely feared it might break. "Action needs to be taken now!"
"It is being taken," Cryotek tried tiredly, leaning back, one hand dropping to his side, past the arm rest. "What do you think I've been doing?"
"Taking advantage of your own people! Extorting them, addicting them, when you really should be going after the Maximals!" He sneered, glaring visciously. "And the accursed Autobots...! They are far overdue an extinction!"
Cryotek sighed, hoping that his slumped body and weary face distracted his crazed companion from his desperate groping under the chair. "I agree, but you must not rush these things. Lull them into a sense of security, and then strike when you are certain to bring them all down in one swift blow."
Megatron groaned in exasperation, pacing the length of the office and gesturing madly. "But I have that chance! Why bother stroking our tyrants till they no longer fear us, when I can prove that they should so easily? You're a coward, Cryotek; I always gave you credit for being more!"
Clawed fingers struck their target, and Cryotek forced back a triumphant grin as he worked to free the gun. "I'm older and wiser than you. Your plots'll spell your doom, you realise. If you'd just give me the Disk and help me--"
A short laugh interrupted him, and Megatron strode close to glare at him. "Older, certainly, but wise? Opportunistic and untrustworthy more like. This," he held up the Disk, light gleaming over the surface, " is the salvation of our race, and you wish to demean it to a pawn, something to bargain over. I think no, nooo!" Fanatacism shone from his optics.
Cryotek tried to keep his face carefully neutral as he continued, desperately, to pull the gun free. "You don't even realise how you sound, do you? Primus, you're mad."
Megatron smiled and leant close, nose to nose, magenta to golden. "Distressing, is it not, how close madness is to genius?"
"Surely you're not calling yourself a genius? How vain of you!" quipped Cryotek, feeling the edges of his world slip away. Nearly there...
The mad optics faded slightly, narrowing. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing, Megatron; I wouldn't find any humour in this situation, believe me. But you do seem to be forgetting that you'll be obliterated along with the rest of us."
Megatron sneered and straightened, beginning to pace again. "I care not! I have to... I have to..." He faded, staring at the air, head tilted as if listening to voices known only to him. Cryotek wouldn't have been surprised.
The gun came free with a small jerk, making the blue Predacon grateful that Megatron had his back turned. "You have to do nothing," he said, struggling up to stand and missing the quiet woosh of the door opening. "Don't worry, Megatron; I'll knock these thoughts out of you soon enough." And he brought the gun to bear.
Green fire sizzled the air and shot the gun from his hand. Megatron spun with wide optics and pulled his own gun, firing, and Cryotek's world went out completely.
"Is he dead?" The question was asked for information moreso than concern.
"No," answered Megatron, subspacing his gun once more, looking at the smoking hole just above Cryotek's left optic. "I used a low setting. There'd be no use in letting him expire." The fanatic light had gone from his optics, and an amused smile played on his mouth. "He thinks I'm an obsessive lunatic without a plan. Can you believe that?"
"Hardly," the other answered with an amused snort. "But I suppose it shall work in your favour."
Megatron nodded, absently tapping the alarm button by Cryotek's desk. "Who worries all that much for a fanatic maniac? He probably couldn't find his way out of a box. Well shot, Slash."
The tan mech nodded in aknowledgement. "You as well, commander."
"Thank you," he said, clasping the warrior's shoulder briefly. "Now come; we mustn't dawdle. For, oh," he then breathed reverently, a bright light shining briefly in his optics once more, "we have so much work to do."