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0 0 Part Seven 0 0
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After exiting his makeshift 'guest room', Overlord descended back into the main levels of the base via the stairs. They were more time-consuming than a lift, but more efficient in terms of energy consumption. Since the outpost currently only had two occupants, repowering the lifts hardly seemed necessary.
He didn't mind. The walk to and from the upper level gave him an opportunity to truly relish the little Combaticon's reactions. He strode down the halls, hands clasped behind his back, and smirked to himself as he walked. Poor Vortex. The helicopter knew all the tricks of torture and interrogation. He'd probably thought he could hold out by bending around the rules of the game, but no. No, Overlord did his research, and he knew how to change the rules so that there was no bending.
Overlord's victims never had a chance, but he did so enjoy how each one resisted breaking. Setting up the right canvas meant all the boundaries were placed and permanent, and his latest pet project certainly wasn't going to be the one who managed to escape. No, once the frame was constructed, it was only a matter of filling in the right setting for a proper breaking.
If Vortex were a garden, all the unwanted growth had just been hacked back. Burning out the previous tangle of weeds, really, that's what subduing his attitude and insolence really boiled down to. Now that Overlord had eradicated the root system, it was just a matter of pulling particularly stubborn bits of personality out and letting his own plantings take over the plot.
The vacationing officer walked unhurriedly towards the room he'd taken as his own, pondering how he'd shape his latest hobby victim and smiling absently to himself as he walked. When he reached the room, he filled a small cube from the high grade sent from Shockwave's personal distillery. A nice touch, he thought, acknowledging the, ah, 'care' he'd taken in his last assignment. There hadn't been a single survivor when he'd been through.
He swirled the energon in the cube and sipped from it, expression content. He didn't have much use for the Decepticon Cause, but the campaigns and violence? Ah, those he enjoyed. Wholesale violence never ceased to entertain.
It'd been somewhat unexpected to be rewarded for his dedication to furthering his own goals by serving the Cause, but he was hardly going to complain. It was nice to take a break from battle to focus on one project. Downtime between battlefield massacres was refreshing, especially when there were ready amusements at hand.
He took a datapad from the rows that filled the shelves along one of the walls, and then sprawled on a chair for some leisure reading. Shockwave's reading material held a wealth of pleasant surprises, most notably the closed files from the Iaconian Enforcers and reports to the Senate about the gladiatorial rings. Overlord was finding those quite enjoyable.
After a few moments, however, he lifted his optics from the screen and thoughtfully tilted his head. The sound that had followed him from the upper levels had stopped. His audios strained, dialing up to search for the thin thread of noise. He didn't want to miss a moment. It was his favorite background music.
Far above, Vortex started howling again.
Overlord smiled and settled into the chair more comfortably, taking another swig from the cube.
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