Chapter Text
Megatron had to stoop to get through the doorway. “Wait here,” the noble demanded, before turning and leaving.
Talk about rude. Megatron huffed, and looked around.
Large berth, high grade dispenser in the corner, door that locks.
Yup. Megatron was definitely here for a house visit.
The gladiator grumbled as he helped himself to the high grade. If all went well, he wouldn’t have time to have any after murdering Zeta, so he may as well drink his full while he could.
This party wasn’t just one for the sake of throwing a party. Megatron knew the difference; he’d been shoved into enough side-rooms to recognise them. He couldn’t figure out why, though. There were rumours, of course. There were rumours of Zeta stepping down, of some other mech taking his place. There was even a rumour that went as far as to say that a mid-caste mech was chosen by the Matrix itself!
Megatron scoffed as he finished his cube.
Tall tales. That was all they were.
He just needed to focus on killing Zeta, then getting out.
—--
Megatron arrived at Soundwave’s habsuite to find the cassettes curled up in a pile in the corner, buried in blankets. He raised a brow ridge at their antics, but pulled one of the blankets over their recharging frames. They were young. They were allowed to have their fun.
Megatron appreciated the domesticity of Soundwave’s habsuite. It was a welcome change to the chaos of the pits and gladiator quarters. Thankfully, as Champion, he was not required to stay there, only check in with the Guild every so often in between matches.
Soundwave was his highest paying patron, and main confidante when it came to the rebellion. Megatron couldn’t remember how he had come to tell Soundwave of his plans for a better and brighter Cybertron, but he could remember the joy the cassettes displayed when Soundwave agreed to assist.
Soundwave was on the couch, flicking through a data-pad, and only raised his helm once Megatron joined him. “Zeta Prime: deceased?” he asked. “Mission: successful?”
“Zeta Prime has already been dead for some time.” Megatron explained, feeling Soundwave’s surprise through their bond. “I was called there on the behalf of a new Prime. The host of the party thought he would enjoy a chance to loosen up. He disagreed, quite vehemently, in fact.”
Megatron could tell that Soundwave was urging him to get to the point, so he did. “The new Prime was mid-caste. A data-clerk in the Iaconian Hall of Records.”
Soundwave turned to properly look at Megatron then, but did not interrupt. “His name is Optimus Prime,” Megatron continued, rolling the name around on his glossa. He quite liked it. Although that was probably just bias towards another (albeit formerly) lower-caste mech being named - in part - after one of the Thirteen.
“He wishes to join the Decepticon movement. He promised to grant us access to whatever data-pads it is we wish to retrieve. I gave him my comm.”
“Megatron: taken risk. Plan: run by Soundwave first.” Megatron rolled his optics. “That is what I am doing now, isn’t it?” He easily dodged the index digit sent his way that attempted to poke him. “Besides, he will have to get in contact first. I told him to arrange a meeting through the pit masters. There would be far less suspicion that way. He cannot exactly waltz down to Kaon.”
Soundwave was silent for a few moments.
Then:
“Megatron’s plan: adequate. In future: seek Soundwave’s council ahead of time.”
“It is far better than adequate, and you know that!”