The ashes of one's enemies
Jul. 22nd, 2009 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
loltraitorlolLog with Saeru's Megatron. Alternate universe ending of Cape and Cowl Starscream. Closed unless you uh, talk to us first about hopping in...?
NONCANON FOREVER~
Starscream sat in a throne at the top of a great spire in the center of what was once Portland, Oregon, but which he had now dubbed New Kaon. And he was no longer merely human.
Just under his skin one could see layers of circuits; his eyes were very clearly mechanical, and his ears had already been replaced by the familiar vents – actually auxiliary data storage, but who was counting. More telling, however, were the great, graceful wings which sprouted from his back, beautiful expanses of white painted steel.
They were a comfort.
And he smirked. He smirked endlessly.
Megatron was here.
Megatron was here.
He'd ruled for nearly three years now, slowly turning this pathetic corner of the United States into a vision of Cybertron. Technoorganics walked the streets now, transcended from their human state (his children, he thought of them now), walking over the lower castes of those who refused the implants, with great behemoths of those who had opted to fully convert into machines looming over them.
He remained partially human himself, mostly because he still had to deal with the outside world as a politician, now; but also because it amused him that he could still rule like this. That he could... be the lord of all this even from such a pathetic body.
Besides.
If he wanted to, he could shed it any time he wanted, like old clothes.
Megatron was here.
He'd ruled, but it had always felt empty. He'd always felt in some way that he needed to take that power with his own hands, be it by subtle treachery or by force. And he had taken it, but...
The symbolic gesture remained.
Megatron was here.
His coronation was at hand, then.
And this time, it would not be mere comedy.
NONCANON FOREVER~
Starscream sat in a throne at the top of a great spire in the center of what was once Portland, Oregon, but which he had now dubbed New Kaon. And he was no longer merely human.
Just under his skin one could see layers of circuits; his eyes were very clearly mechanical, and his ears had already been replaced by the familiar vents – actually auxiliary data storage, but who was counting. More telling, however, were the great, graceful wings which sprouted from his back, beautiful expanses of white painted steel.
They were a comfort.
And he smirked. He smirked endlessly.
Megatron was here.
Megatron was here.
He'd ruled for nearly three years now, slowly turning this pathetic corner of the United States into a vision of Cybertron. Technoorganics walked the streets now, transcended from their human state (his children, he thought of them now), walking over the lower castes of those who refused the implants, with great behemoths of those who had opted to fully convert into machines looming over them.
He remained partially human himself, mostly because he still had to deal with the outside world as a politician, now; but also because it amused him that he could still rule like this. That he could... be the lord of all this even from such a pathetic body.
Besides.
If he wanted to, he could shed it any time he wanted, like old clothes.
Megatron was here.
He'd ruled, but it had always felt empty. He'd always felt in some way that he needed to take that power with his own hands, be it by subtle treachery or by force. And he had taken it, but...
The symbolic gesture remained.
Megatron was here.
His coronation was at hand, then.
And this time, it would not be mere comedy.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 05:28 pm (UTC)...But he was still Megatron.
No simple twist of fate could completely offset him...no. Not him. And he had risen, building off of less than nothing once again, determined to bind this world and make it his if so much else had been denied to him. He knew how humans worked, what they thought, what they desired, how he could manipulate them into wanting exactly what he told them to want until they slaved for him and did not even wonder.
He would have everything.
It was only a matter of time, and patience, and oh had he learned patience.
The skill helped, too.
Yet as he built he knew that something had been lacking...an ever-present thorn in his side that initially wasn't there, that he'd almost forgotten he could miss and only noticed in its absence.
Starsceam.
Granted, he appreciated not having to watch his back every living moment for a while, relishing briefly the ability to sleep and dream while letting his thoughts wander. It was blissful, for a time.
And then, the dreams had ended. The thorn had turned into a seed, sprouting up more prickly vines where he hadn't noticed them without even the benefit of roses to off-set the pain. His old lieutenant was adapting, and it would not do to let him go unchallenged.
So he built armies.
It was under human terms, and often the arena was in politics itself, his base forming in Chicago and slowly spreading through the Midwest. He promised change…advancement…the chance for those who excelled to not endure mundane trivialities…
And so he gave them change, but kept them human, advancing their genetics but letting them have the forms they seemed to revel in so much. It wasn’t even noticeable in the beginning, and by the time it was he’d already had the laws against it written off the system.
He’d found others, like himself, and renewed vows taken long ago to the Decepticon ideal…even finding an old friend who had been exceptionally valuable with insight into Starscream’s plans. There were still losses…
…some of them still pained him.
…but what he hadn’t taken then he would assimilate upon his victory. All would be one.
“Come face me, Starscream.” He had texted.
“…if you have the ‘guts.’”
short tag is short.
Date: 2009-07-23 05:38 pm (UTC)So it begins yet again, mighty Megatron he replied. And so at long last it ends. This was destined. Fated since the beginning: you and I, at last in one final duel. One shall stand, mighty Megatron. One shall fall.
And this time the fallen shall not be me.
I will give you the honor of choosing our arena.
Re: short tag is short.
Date: 2009-07-23 08:25 pm (UTC)Starscream never had been subtle, after all.
"You still could join me, you know. We'd make such short work of this planet."
no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 02:12 am (UTC)"And as if I need you. I've already made short work of this section of the planet. Already, it is reborn in the image of our homeworld. And what have you done here?"
"I don't need you anymore."
He noted the coordinates. Far, really, from his tower in Portland. But... well.
As he was now, not that far.
Walking out to the balcony, he looked out over his city. There was a storm rolling in.
He hated storms. But it didn't matter.
"Starscream," he said, "Transform and rise up."
With a clicking noise, his wings seemed to unfold as his powered armor - now integrated into his very body - folded over his skin, relays connecting with ports on his arms as he transformed. In only a few seconds, he suddenly appeared as a small version of his true form.
He walked to the edge of the balcony and fell.
After a few seconds, he clicked on his engines and rocketed straight to mach 3, a deafening boom following his passage as he streaked towards his destination.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-28 02:42 am (UTC)He did not answer the other question...feeling no need to flaunt his actions as his Lieutenant often had. What they had accomplished thus far wouldn't matter....only the outcome of this conflict, here, now, would.
It was...a pity.
He'd need to find out more about what Starscream had been up to, once this fight was over, in order to continue his conquest of the earth....determine whom, of Starscream's minions, could be loyal, once again. It would have been so much easier just to leave him to continue as he had been doing...
But their arenas had been overlapping, already.
The push and pull of politics, the strain of conflicting ideals...
There could be only one great manipulator of designs, for this world, before it turned into another Cybertron...
...and he would not allow that, this time.
He was there in moments, already prepared, nestled comfortably in a larger exoskeleton of his own. It was stolen technology...taken from Starscream's designs and modified to fit his uses, and though the interface was not as smooth the power of the suit made him content. This power would do, for now, until the day that he could find enough to satiate his lust.
Dropping from the belly of a transport, remote controlled, he landed in a crouch in the green fields below, waiting for the dust to clear, knowing that his adversary would be there, soon. Starscream had something to prove, after all...
something he'd been waiting to prove for vast millenia.
Perhaps, today, Megatron would gift him with something Starscream would never be able to appreciate.
Perhaps, today, he shall give him a fair fight.