by -Soundwave- » Mon Mar 10, 2008 11:09 pm
- Motto: ""Cries and screams are music to my Audios.""
- Weapon: Shoulder Mounted Rocket Launcher
Part two.
Galvatron hesitated as if something had blocked him from suddenly gaining control over himself. Cyclonus looked at Scourge, and raised an optic brow, something was further wrong than he thought. It was just an instant, but Cyclonus picked it out easily. Even then, in the next moment, Galvatron’s optics lit brightly their scarlet red as he sat up in an instant. The look on his face held more malice than any other previous time, and without a second thought, he aimed and charged the cannon, firing it once at Hook, clipping the Constructicon in the shoulder.
The growl was low and could only be heard by those in the immediate area, save for Soundwave. “I will not have any farther repairs.”
“Mighty one, some repairs are necessary.” Cyclonus attempted to plead with him.
With one good shot to the chest, Cyclonus fell against the near wall. “I will not repeat myself.” The tyrant shouted. He leapt down off the lab table with fluid speed then continued out of the room into the hall, heading for his own quarters, Cyclonus struggling to get up and follow. The entire way from the medbay to his quarters he strutted with determination. Those that saw him coming moved out of the way, others were tossed to the side without notice. His mind flared at what he thought was an intrusion, but from what he did not know. Hook had obviously done other repair work as his systems checked out; only something else was going on. He turned the corner from one hall to another, Cyclonus finally matching his pace.
“Is there something wrong, Mighty one?”
“Leave me be, before I make you part of the décor.” Galvatron barely managed to ground it out before the door opened to his quarters and he stepped in. Cyclonus was forced to stop short as the door closed and locked before him.
Sitting down hard at his desk, he sat back and did another diagnostic. Still nothing out of the ordinary, yet he could feel the difference.
This is impossible. I should feel nothing, Unicron is dead and gone, nothing remains of his hold, of that I am certain. Yet this feeling of uneasiness and the pure fury of it still boils from within. No one must know of this, not even Cyclonus, for if they find out my hold on them will deteriorate even more so. I have to find a way to combat it, to heal myself before . . . No. I will do it. I am Galvatron and nothing will stop me.
His energy level still somewhat low, he got up with a new vigor and headed to the recharge berth. He lay down fully aware that he had locked himself in, and then turned his optics off to recharge.
This is my chance, while that fool is recharging. I need to be able to surface. I’ve managed to navigate small areas and get myself connected to his sensors, but it is not enough. Distance is my enemy, and this idiot’s sanity is too questionable if I were to even manage to take over, few would believe it. Would that clown lap dog Cyclonus want to serve me over this fool? I doubt that, and that Scourge with all his senses? He might tell the difference, but who is to know for sure? I am not willing to take that chance. Soundwave, however, will be able to tell instantly. Where is he?
The form that lay on the recharge berth moved, but only rocked. Its optics fluttering with flickers of light then lay motionless again. The form suddenly sat bolt up right, optics still eerily dark. Silence took over the room as it sat there optics starting to light but very dimly.
Down four levels and nearly across the Decepticon base, Soundwave sat in a small room that substituted as his lab, working on yet another contraption that would probably be passed over and looked at as feeble in the optics of Galvatron. He sat up sharply, his constant telepathy suddenly alarming him to a change. It was coming from in the base, a familiar one at that. His hands gently placed the miniature circuitry down onto the table as he stood up and headed out. He instantly knew what the signal was; only he had thought it improbable, no, he thought it impossible, after what he had seen of Galvatron. He blocked his telepathic links to his cassettes, not wanting to alarm anyone as he quickly traversed the base. The door he finally came to was that of his new would-be leader. It, of course, would have been no other, given the circumstances.
Inside, Galvatron’s chassis lay again on the berth, optics dark and unwavering. He lay there decently, peaceful for the moment. Soundwave waited at the door, his telepathy telling him that what had disturbed Galvatron had gone. He listened intently, unwilling to go inside, should the tyrant be waiting.