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[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG-13
Bayverse Wayward AU
Flatline, Onslaught, Motormaster, Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave
no warnings

A semi-sneak peek into Failwarp's backstory! :D  Written for tf_speedwriting  prompt.

Flatline shook his head, irritably.  Bureaucracy, rearing its bloated and self-important head, yet again.  Did the power-mongers not know, even after all this time, that their power was based, in no small part, on knowledge? And not merely mindless recitation of things already known—which too, too many thought of as ‘knowledge’—but the ability to think beyond that, to apply to new things, to conceptualize new possibilities. 

Without that, they would have all died on Cybertron.  Possibly before the war.  Half the modifications—if not more—on the limbs of the mechs seated in judgment of him now were innovations of precisely the kind of thinking they were now trying to punish him for.

He didn’t blame them. They were stupid.  They honestly didn’t know any better.  There was no limit to ignorance, just as there was no limit to knowledge. 

But of Megatron? He expected more. More vision, more foresight.  More esteem.

Esteem. That’s what it was. Flatline felt devalued.  Stifled outrage held his spinal struts stiff and erect, his optics glaring from under his brow, glowing a hostility he could not lower himself to express.

“You do understand the charges,” Soundwave murmured, with just a hint of insult.  As if he had the right to question Flatline’s grasp of anything.  Ironic, no? 

“I understand that your petty squeamishnesses occlude my progress,” he said, coldly.

“Squeamishness,” Onslaught echoed.  “You do understand there must be some limits?”

Motormaster scoffed. “Limits?  This is warfare, Onslaught. Limits are how we defeat ourselves without our enemies having to lift a hand.”

Flatline nodded. One got it, at least, or at least in some limited way wrapped his processor around the core of the issue.

“Limits because without some, we lose sight of the cost we are paying for our ideals,” Onslaught said, steepling his fingers. “Such as what brings us here.” His visor tilted pointedly toward Flatline.

“Oh?” Megatron asked—inasmuch as Megatron ‘asked’ anything. “Is there a price too high to pay for ultimate victory?” A dangerous question, letting Onslaught know he’d stepped in a minefield. 

Onslaught’s optics dimmed, briefly, considering.  He had not survived this long—possibly the longest of any of Megatron’s gestalt commanders—without some skill.  “Ultimate victory? Perhaps not.  But I remain unconvinced that his…’research’ would be the key to that door.”  If he hadn’t had his facemask on, Flatline swore Onslaught would be smirking.  Dangerously intelligent, he decided. Myopic, but clever.  He would have to be dealt with…later.

Megatron frowned, one of his long claws tapping an unsettled tattoo against the table. “You have,” he granted, grudgingly, “a point.”  He turned to Flatline, flipping the hand over, gesturing, waiting for Flatline to respond.

Flatline glowered at Onslaught. “My concern is research.  Application is another matter entirely—I am not to be held responsible if my research is not properly implemented.” 

“And,” Starscream cut in, his optics cuttingly keen, “is that the case now? Has your research been misused?”

Ah, this one went neither way—neither friend nor enemy.  Starscream’s dark emotion stabbed at Soundwave, who sat, slightly too serene for innocence. 

“No.  Skywarp’s issues have nothing to do with my procedure.” 

The silver jet bridled, slightly, possibly from the mention of ‘issues’.  Flatline had heard of jets and their narcissism, but if that extended to anyone in the frame type? 

“I do not see how you would imagine that what you’d done to him could win the war.”

Flatline grinned. Yes. You could not see.  Your problem, not mine.  “You don’t? Revivification?  Reformatting?  We can resurrect our dead.  We can reprogram Autobots.” It was magnificent—the idea itself left him nearly breathless. And the fact that it had worked…!

“It seems,” Soundwave said, his voice unharmonic, flat, “that we cannot yet judge your experiment, having incomplete data.”

An outraged bark from Starscream, quelled by something in Onslaught’s gaze.  Starscream’s neutrality had evaporated—his talons nearly trembled in outrage, barely contained.  Motormaster merely shrugged, restlessly, as if eager to get back to the act of war instead of these petty, useless dissections of archaic scruples.

Megatron nodded. “So it would seem.  Unless, Starscream, you would volunteer Skywarp for…dissection?” 

The jet’s optics flared, the center irises white with emotion.  “No,” he said, tightly.  “That will not be necessary.” 

“Well then, we shall waste no further time on this matter,” Megatron said.  He jerked a green tinged chin at Flatline. “You are free to go.”

“Back to my lab?” Pushing as far as he could—his lab had been forcefully shut down when the charges had been leveled. 

“I don’t see why not,” Megatron said, smiling benignly. Even Flatline had to admit the effect was a bit unsettling. 

Flatline’s face resettled itself into his former grin. “Thank you, my Lord.”  He even managed to get the title out without strain, he congratulated himself.  And he looked around the room—seeing as a scientist, a researcher, now the world neatly categorized into obstacles and, well, he wouldn’t exactly call them ‘allies’….

Bureaucracy.  The best way to handle it was to simply stand back and let it twist upon itself, a bloated serpent eating its own tail.

 

Comments

[kamiraptor.livejournal.com]

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo....................


Revivification and reformatting??? As applied to Skywarp??? What haaaaaaaaaaaaaaappeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnned???????????????????????????????????????????????

[gargoule.livejournal.com]

i do second the What haaaaaaaaaaaaaaappeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnned??????????????????????????????????????????????? because i wants details!