Pretense to Nothing

 

Logged:  early 2001

 

 

Tempest slips up onto one of the crates in the corner and watches, with a blank gargoyle-like expression, almost vanishing in the shadows save two dimly glowing ruby lights that are her optics.

 

Megatron looks over to the door, seeing Tempest. He finishes his drink and walks over to her.

 

Tempest watches him, her expression still blank. During yesterday's altercation with Straxus, Tempest kept her distance from the boss...the logo incident had already set her on edge somehow, and Megatron's anger seemed to make it worse...

 

Megatron looks at Tempest, his expression saying: let's get out of here.

 

 

Living Quarters

 

        When needing to rest, recharge, or relax, Decepticons go here to their private rooms. A long hallway has doors on either side leading to each Decepticon's assigned space. The rooms are equipped with a small computer console and work station, a recharge bed, and whatever personal belongings the individual has. The rooms are fairly small and packed close together, but they are reasonably sound-proof for privacy.

 

 

Tempest tags after Megatron, still silent.

 

Slipstream staggers into an unhabited, empty quarters and quietly moans in painas his laser core wars with itslefelf, and tries to stabilize it.

 

Tempest is rather conflicted as well, though the only sign of the war raging within her is the occasional flame-like flicker in her optics.

 

Slipstream finally just does a complete system reset and collapses in the unoccupied quarters, going still, a look of relief on his face.

 

Megatron watches Slipstream disappear in one of the Quarters, slightly concerned about his actual status.

 

Megatron turns to Tempest.

 

Tempest glances back at him...sighs deeply. "I suppose it's not good enough for me to simply ask you to trust me...no. No, you deserve an answer. As leader of the Decepticons you have a right to demand one...but that's not why I'll tell you. I'll tell you because of what you've told me."

 

Megatron says, "Shall we go to where it is more private?"

 

Tempest nods.

 

Megatron's quarters

        A small computer console, work station, and a recharge bed... there is nothing except for the extensions of the room that shows the importance of its owner.

         On the shelf aside the entrance, there are several rusty cannons of primitive design which belonged to the wrack of a pirate ship that is situated close to the base. They are small like toys to a Cybertronian. Also on the shelf, occupying a special place, lays a metal carving. It is a sculpture showing Megatron's Walther P38 mode, done by skilful hands.

        On the wall opposite to the recharge bed is a large picture showing only the starry sky...

Contents:

Megatron

hologram projector

 

Tempest looks around uncertainly...

 

Megatron gestures at the chair. "Take a seat.

 

Tempest curls up on the chair...shoots him a sudden suspicious glance, and you may be reminded of the way she actually hissed at you yesterday when you were so angry at Straxus...she's looking like she'd rather be pretty much anywhere else right now...

 

Megatron takes off his fusion cannon. He decides to stand on the wall opposite to Tempest, his back leaning against it, his arms folded in front of his chest. He waits patiently.

 

Tempest takes a deep breath into her air intakes, pulls off the helmet and sets it on her lap, crossing her arms over the helmet's crown. "I wish I was more of a liar...that I could just take the insignias and be done with it...but I won't.  Because of you." She gives him a glance as if to imply that this is his fault--as if that were a bad thing. "Because I respect you too much for that."

 

Tempest elaborates, "If I ever wear the Decepticon logos it will mean my commitment...my allegiance to the crew...ah, team...my devotion to you as leader. And I will mean it to the core of my being. Right now I cannot make that promise..."  Her expression is pained, as if part of her would like to...

 

Megatron smiles calmingly. "If you are not sure, I will not force you. However, you show me again that you are worthy to be a Decepticon.”

 

Tempest hangs her head, gestures towards the helmet. "I belonged to another crew once. Not mine. Being leader is different... Before that. Before that I was a follower once, wore another's insignias." She picks up the helmet. "Most of Backfire's crew wore helmets like these. I didn't. I wore his brand but not his headdress...I was not accepted as a true warrior..."

 

Tempest smiles at Megatron, seeming momentarily proud...then something in her optics shifts and the smile turns to ice. "Perhaps you judge too soon..." She says lightly, "I thought Soundwave was always warning you about that?" but it's not enough to lift whatever darkness is behind her expression...

 

Megatron looks at her, seriously. "I told you once again: I dare to take this risk." He takes the insignias out again, offering them to her. "They belong to you  - even if you don't want to join our forces and wear them. Take them as a present... from a friend."

 

Tempest smiles, somewhat sadly, but accepts them. She shakes her head, looking down at them, seeming somewhat pleased at the present despite herself. "Thank you." A pause. "I swore I'd never belong to anyone else's crew ever again, after Backfire..."

 

Megatron says, "Tempest, it's not in my intention to force you doing something that is against your conviction."

 

Tempest looks up at Megatron and this time the smile is real.

 

Megatron offers his hand. "Friends?"

 

Tempest picks up the helmet by the pointed front, gazes into it as if she can see another's face within it. "I don't think I told you about Backfire..."

 

Tempest glances upward, sets the helmet down, takes Megatron's hand. "Friends."

.

Megatron smiles.  Megatron says, "No, you haven't told me about him."

 

Tempest gets that odd dark look behind her optics again. "My mate." She gives him a rueful grin, again somewhat cold... "Would you believe I had a mate?" And all this time the helmet's sitting on the chair, and she again looks no older than Ruse...save for a horrible cast to the corners of the optics, making her look very old and weathered indeed...

 

Megatron says, "I had the impression there was someone."

 

Tempest picks up the helmet, swinging it... "Backfire was leader of a pirate crew in a very bad sector of space...Overall his group wasn't much even by Spaceways standards, but he /was/ the biggest, meanest bot in that sector, and that was enough to give him the power to rule it as his own..." She laughs a little. "He was nothing next to what I eventually became, but at the time..." The vicious spark in her optics dies and she looks rather quietly at the helmet. "At the time

I was barely more than a child, albeit one already trained in the arts of killing, and alone...alone again...on the verge of starving."

 

Megatron listens quietly.

 

Tempest doesn't seem to want to say any more, at least not without prompting...she's contemplating the helmet.

 

Megatron says, "That was when you met him?"

 

Tempest nods. "A bar...backwater bar like a thousand others, though granted one of the more seedy ones." She snorts. "I know I don't look like much, but I was the only game in town..."

 

Megatron realizes that he obviously has a much higher opinion about Tempest's looks than she has herself. "He was the strongest, so he got you..?"

 

Tempest says, "Oh, it was a bit of my choice as well...He was the leader, he had a crew, a ship, fuel to eat, reasonable security for his life, and most importantly power...power and the freedom to do whatever he pleased with it. In short, he had everything I wanted..."

.

Tempest's grip on the helmet tightens.

 

Megatron gestures at the helmet. "It was his, wasn't it?"

 

Tempest nods.

 

Megatron says, "You..?"

 

Tempest, wordlessly, opens her storage compartment and spins the hilt around her fingers.

 

Megatron says, "What happened..?"

 

Tempest's optics darken almost to black. "It's not like your story, Megatron. You know...or knew...what love was."

 

Tempest says slowly, "It wasn't...what you said, him winning me by virtue of power, that's what he thought. I played his games...wore his insignia, followed his rules, put up with being the target of his rages and his sick little games..."  Her voice gets lower, harsher, with each word. "All the while when I could have run, I didn't, because I knew that my waiting would pay off...for the day I got

close enough to strike." On the word strike, she triggers the hilt and releases the laser sword, looking up at him to see if he really wants her to continue.

 

Megatron wants her to continues. Yes, he knows that he's not the best in evaluating other people's feelings. However he has the impression that it was good for Tempest to talk about it..

 

Tempest deactivates the blade, tucks her legs up on the chair and curls tighter against herself...somewhat heartened by his reaction, continues.  Tempest fiddles with the inactive hilt. "The whole thing came to a head in another bar, "the Last Best Place" on Saphiro's moon... The place was also a site for fencing goods, it was where Backfire sold most of his plunder to the bar's owner, and it was where he kept his galactic credits in some sort of ad hoc bank they ran...all very shady, illegal. I had to wait until then. I had to wait until I knew the key passage to the vault...

 

Megatron looks down for a moment. Now he understands Tempest's reaction when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder - back in the repair bay, when she was just here for a day.

 

Tempest draws a deep breath. "Backfire wouldn't let me carry weapons, but he didn't know about the hilt...the one I kept from the destruction of Kilair. It was simply a matter of waiting for the time to strike..." She glances up at Megatron as if expecting him to condemn her for this. "So there you go. I'm a confessed traitor and backstabber."

 

Megatron watches her for a while, a soft smile on his lips. "You did what was necessary to survive. And... from what I've learned about the rules of the space ways... you acted according to them: kill or be killed."

 

Tempest glances up at him, then manages a small smile herself. Then her expression darkens again and she jams the helmet back on her head. "Yes. And it damn well did kill me. And I swore I'd never go through that again...that I'd fight to the death before I subordined myself to anyone ever again. And I almost did...and then you came along..." Her expression softens. "And now I don't know what the hell to do..."

 

Megatron says, "Tempest, I said it before and I'll do it again: I will not force you to do anything you don't want to."

 

Tempest gets up from the chair, hesistates, smiles again. "You're not the least what I expected from a commander..." and based on what she's told you, it's obviously a compliment. She stands about three paces away from Megatron and slowly puts the hilt back where she got it.

 

Megatron seriously says: "I won't give you a reason to take MY helmet.

 

Tempest grins, walks closer and actually flips the tip of it with a finger. "I don't think it'd fit me anyway..." and she laughs...

 

Megatron grins, then starts to laugh as well.

 

Tempest tilts her head and smiles up at him, suddenly feeling a lot more secure.

 

Megatron says, "It may be a bit too big, huh?"

 

Tempest nods. "Both the helmet and the job that comes with it...Starscream is /all/ yours..." and her optics glint mischieviously...the darkness broken up like clouds after a storm.

 

Megatron smirks. "Well, well, Starscream... I fear, he will never realize that my helmet is too big for him as well...

 

Tempest giggles a little and then grows somewhat more serious. "Do you understand why I like the way I look better this way?" she asks, reaching out a hand to him but not quite touching him...

 

Megatron says, "Tell me..."

 

Tempest draws back a little. "I was never really the naive little girl I pretended to be in front of Backfire...that ended when Kilair was destroyed...but I had to pretend, so that he'd never suspect me. I had to hide my true nature and let him think he ruled me. I feel...a liar, I have no desire to pose in front of you as something I'm not."

 

Megatron really feels honored and... touched by that. Damn, yes, he has this sentimental side...

 

Tempest glances around, trying to get a look of her reflection in a bulkhead. "I prefer to look this way...as a warrior, a warlord...and on the Spaceways, if you don't look tough, something is guaranteed to try to take a bite out of you. It feels more honest somehow...and I fought for this, I /won/ this."